The second installment of “One My Worst Dayz Out There!” is by North Dakotian, Dave Simmons. Mr. Simmons is a mere man-boy when compared to Pramann or the writer, but he has the right stuff and so can look forward to a great and long future of pain and suffering on THE ROAD of DESPAIR. Last year he did very well in the Arrowhead 135 and also was a top finisher at the RED ASS 300 up in Winnipeg in June. He also has recently sired a man-child of whom the whole future of arctic exploration, upon bicycle, rests. Plus hez a first-rate young man... Below he recounts one of his worst dayz out:
...My greatest memory of a full on "bust" comes from last year’s Arrowhead135. After curling up with an old narley DBDer (that was obviously suffering from some kind of dementia) for a spell to try and stay warm, I took off again early morning in the sub-zero temps, but quickly hit the proverbial “wall” of insufferable pain and anguish...But let me start at the beginning; I got myself in trouble as I had packed up from the half-way cabin in such a hurry that I didn't eat or drink anything before heading off to chase down the front runners. After four or so more night hours on the trial, I was totally gassed and looking for a place to bivy. At the top of a beautiful rise I spied a three-walled snowmobile shelter and made for it. When I peered into the hovel, I saw the old one laying there in his ratty antiquated sleeping bag. He called over something amounting to, “Welcome youth, I’m glad for the company, I've busted, me legs are no good.” I recognized him as an old member of one of Mallory’s group and a veteran AH rider. I set up my bivy next to him and although bitterly cold for most of the time, the rest did bring a relative degree of respite from the harshness of the trail. I think I rested for a few hours. With the sun, I arose to a frigid morning as did the ancient one. Now this was about 24 hours after starting the race and freezing all night. So, not surprisingly a few hours later towards the finish of the race, the muscles in my neck and shoulders went numb and I started hallucinating. I swear there was a snowmobile following me for the longest time, but it never got any closer or further away. Then I thought I saw someone alongside the trail taking pictures, but again when I got up to him there was no one there. I was reduced to sitting along the edge of the trail with about 5 miles to go thinking there is no way I could make it, just a measly five miles after completing 130 miles. Five miles! That's it! Pretty hard to imagine not being able to ride five miles. Eventually I warmed up the cajones enough to stagger into the finish. I can't wait to see what kind of trouble I can get into on the Alaska trail one day. Hopefully that old man will be there to keep me company again during the long Alaskan night...
...My greatest memory of a full on "bust" comes from last year’s Arrowhead135. After curling up with an old narley DBDer (that was obviously suffering from some kind of dementia) for a spell to try and stay warm, I took off again early morning in the sub-zero temps, but quickly hit the proverbial “wall” of insufferable pain and anguish...But let me start at the beginning; I got myself in trouble as I had packed up from the half-way cabin in such a hurry that I didn't eat or drink anything before heading off to chase down the front runners. After four or so more night hours on the trial, I was totally gassed and looking for a place to bivy. At the top of a beautiful rise I spied a three-walled snowmobile shelter and made for it. When I peered into the hovel, I saw the old one laying there in his ratty antiquated sleeping bag. He called over something amounting to, “Welcome youth, I’m glad for the company, I've busted, me legs are no good.” I recognized him as an old member of one of Mallory’s group and a veteran AH rider. I set up my bivy next to him and although bitterly cold for most of the time, the rest did bring a relative degree of respite from the harshness of the trail. I think I rested for a few hours. With the sun, I arose to a frigid morning as did the ancient one. Now this was about 24 hours after starting the race and freezing all night. So, not surprisingly a few hours later towards the finish of the race, the muscles in my neck and shoulders went numb and I started hallucinating. I swear there was a snowmobile following me for the longest time, but it never got any closer or further away. Then I thought I saw someone alongside the trail taking pictures, but again when I got up to him there was no one there. I was reduced to sitting along the edge of the trail with about 5 miles to go thinking there is no way I could make it, just a measly five miles after completing 130 miles. Five miles! That's it! Pretty hard to imagine not being able to ride five miles. Eventually I warmed up the cajones enough to stagger into the finish. I can't wait to see what kind of trouble I can get into on the Alaska trail one day. Hopefully that old man will be there to keep me company again during the long Alaskan night...
Wow, what a great epic! What Mr. Simmons calls 'hallucinations' I like to think of as 'vision quests'…I wonder who that old man was? :)
Stayed tuned for the next installment of "One of my worst dayz out there." Featuring Duluth's own Tim Ek....
ps: If you have an experience with "going bust" contact me and I'll include your narrative. Don't be afraid to embellish as I make it a rule to never let the truth get in the way of a good story!
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comments?