" 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves - Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves - And the mome raths outgrabe."

Click here to see the official course description (Yuba Expeditions)

Click here to read Big Johnny's hilarious diary of the race (DrunkCyclist.com) 

Click here to see my SSWC Photo Gallery


It was absolutely EPIC.  If you were there - you know exactly what I mean.  If you missed it - you should be ashamed of yourself.  I speak of course of the SingleSpeed World Championships which was held in Downieville, CA on October 12, 2002.

Those of you who have read these columns before will recognize that this is not the first time I will write glowing things about that little gold rush town of Downieville.  But what I realize now is exactly why I love this place so much.  It's because of the simplicity - one general store, one diner, one saloon, and one bike shop.  That's what it's all about - a lack of Complexity.  No cell phones, no email, no nothing.  Just you and the land, and what a drop dead gorgeous land it is around these parts.  Lack of Complexity.  Exactly the SAME reason I love riding SingleSpeeds so much.  It's the same thing.  No gears, no lockout, no anti-bob, no 3 link triangle, no rapid rise.  It's just two lungs, two legs, one gear, one brake …  Did I say one brake?  More on that later.  I am of the opinion that every cyclist should visit Downieville once before they die.   My visit this past summer (read about it here) was only a prelude.  The return visit for SSWC exceeded my every expectation.  The change of seasons in these parts is just incredible.  Trees looking like they are on fire and the temperatures just perfect for a little exertion.  And exertion is exactly what we did as this town of 325 residents more than doubled it's population by hosting this event.

 

I guess to host a World Championship, one needs to have a course that is suitably challenging for the world's elite.  And that it was.  Unfortunately the other 99% of us got our asses kicked by 36 grueling miles which covered over 6000ft of vertical climbing - with no gears.  Ouch.  I arrived in Downieville on Friday and met up with Rob and met a new guy Mark.  We made a plan to do a pre-ride of about 15 miles starting at the TOP of the mountain.  Carrie dropped us off in the van and we had one hell of a sweet descent back into Downieville.  It was definitely not SS territory but we managed to plummet through the twisty aggressive singletrack with tempered aggression.  We actually passed a few armor clad downhillers riding full boinger's.  Puzzling look on their faces.  It was actually hard to hold back somewhat as I had to keep reminding myself that in less than 24 hours I would be riding UP this damn thing in what could easily become an all day journey.  At the conclusion of the pre-ride everything had checked out perfect.  Felt great, equipment was running great, trails were in great shape.  Get up in the AM and GO.  After sunset the temps drop fast, so following dinner and an early night at party central (more on that later) it was off to snooze under several layers of blankets at the Downieville Inn. 

After Saturday morning breakfast it was a short (and cold) 4 mile ride to the race start.   The assembled multitude of SS nutters was truly a sight to behold.  I don't think there is a "politically correct" way to describe this motley bunch - kind of like Woodstock '94 meets Halloween Night in the Barrio.  Riders from Australia, Scotland, Ireland, Canada, and more.  The Brits were there in full force plus a strong showing from MSP.  Lots of California dudes, Colorado, Oregon - you name it.  Even a nice showing from AZ.  Also a very, very impressive assemblage of SS machinery - everything from homemade conversions, top shelf offerings from the elite manufacturers, plenty of disk brakes, a few suspensions, and yes quite a few rigs that begged the question "you gotta be kidding me?"  The Schwinn cruiser with the coaster brake and ape hangers was not at all out of place.  But the pilots - they were the real attraction.  Every kind of clothing (a lot of it not bike related), S&M gear, body ink galore, and enough body jewelry to tell you for sure that these cats could care less what their bikes weighed.  One Canadian dude had built a CD Walkman into his camelback including stereo remote speakers like you would have on your desktop computer.  I must admit that his AC/DC cd's definitely helped push us up the long climbs.  All around the start area there were riders powering down that last Bud (plus two more in the jersey pockets for later in the race) or passing around the old "pleasure pipe" loading to the hilt with mother natures finest combustibles.  Plenty of wine sacks and bottles of Sangria had been fitted to backpacks for what would surely be an epic day in the woods.  It wasn't until the start flag dropped at 10 AM that it really dawned on me that this was supposed to be a RACE!

Although the pace was slow, you could not exactly slack off completely, as there were checkpoints for 2 hrs and 3 hrs cut-offs.  My only real goal was to make the cut-offs, have fun if possible, and finish in one piece.  The climb was long, long, long, cut-paste, cut-paste, blah, blah, blah.  Just when you thought it was over, it kept right ongoing.  Rob was already far in front - maybe I'd see him again, maybe not.  Didn't really matter.  I had decided to ride a 32-18 gear for the race and it actually was not too bad to climb in.  I did stop twice to catch my breath, but for the most part I reached the 2 hr checkpoint in good shape.  Now, I know this is hard to imagine but the next 10 miles or so were actually way harder than the initial climb.  Lots of boulder fields, more climbs, steep as a mother and one incredible son of bitch rock downhill that was so far beyond ride-able it was an absolute joke.

Little did I anticipate that this section was not even easily walk-able.  As I dismounted for what would surely be the hike-a-bike from hell, I started to slide off the trail and in trying to recover I went over the bars flipping the bike behind me.  No obvious damage, except that when I would pull on the rear brake lever, it would not return.  Hmm… as this is a hydraulic system, a potential trailside repair would be no easy matter.  I could not figure out exactly the root cause of the problem until I noticed that the lever was bent slightly and it seemed likely it has binding on the lever housing.  I bent it slightly back into position and the problem was almost eliminated.  But I decided to "make it perfect" and the extra fraction of a mm that I now bent it caused it snap off right in my hand.  GREAT - how in the hell am I gonna ride this course with no rear brake?  I hiked down the hill and gave it a try, but there was NO WAY that I could ride with front brake only.  Problem was that I was now about mid course so faced a hell of a long walk in either direction I chose.  But then the engineer in me realized that I could likely take the left hand (front) level and attached it to the rear brake.  Riding with rear brake only should be possible.  Took about 5 minutes to do the switch-er-oo, but actually it worked out like a champ.  I found that I had to skid stop a lot more using just rear brake, but otherwise it looked like I was back in business and at least could continue riding.

Of course the weekend was far from over.  As battered SS riders filtered into town, the Downieville Saloon began to fill up.  I guess you could call it a late lunch.  The school house hosted a free Pasta feed that was actually pretty darn good.  Great lemonade.  Sat with some Canadians who seemed pretty cool about having the next worlds in Vancouver - although word on the street is that an Australia event is perhaps more likely.  Anyway, the pasta feed provided the necessary holdover until the post race party got rolling later that night.  Huge amounts of beer flowing as riders claimed their raffle swag.  Damn those Brits can sure drink a lot.  Snagged a Ti bottle opener and a Timbuk Two T-shirt.  I'll tell you, for $20 you made out pretty well in this race.  Beer, food, raffle swag.  Without question the most cost effective race I have ever been to.

Logger:  "Hey - did ya hear 'bout that damn bicycle race?" Miner:  "Nope, but I figgered somethin' wuz up 'cuz a all them bikers hanging 'round town and drinking all that beer" Logger:  "Well those damn idiots rode all way from Yuba campground up to Packer Saddle and down through the canyon.  The winner had to get branded" Miner:  "No shit?" Logger:  "Not only that, but they rode bikes with out no gears" Miner:  "Well, Gaw damn" Flo (the waitress):  "Now I'll tell YOU boys something.  They was the nicest bunch of fellows you could imagine.  Way nicer than those downhill guys we get 'round here.   They might have drank a whole lot of beer, but at least they pee'd in the toilet and not all over the streets like them other guys did".

I almost hate to close out this story - just as I hated to say goodbye to the SSWC and say goodbye again to Downieville.  It was now Monday morning after the race and I stopped at the Downieville Diner (the one and only eating place in Downieville) to have some breakfast prior to departing for home.  I overheard the following conversation between a logger, a old-time miner, and Flo the waitress.

And so it went in Downieville …….

Dave (October 2002)