Rockwell Relay Crew Report, Part 4: Enter Sandman

There won't be a lot of pictures for this blog post because these crazy bike racers ride in the middle of the night! Crewing for them was a bizarre, but strangely memorable, experience. This is a doozey of a blog, though, so grab a cup of coffee and settle in.

Last picture I took before sunset.

Oh, context? You need context? Check the index on the bottom right for the rest of the story.

With Ranger Dave riding off into the gloaming, Ranger Katie and I broke camp and saddled up for the next part of our journey. The first leg Dave raced was hot and sunny and windy. This stage would be cool, windy, and dark. We'd be driving through Capital Reef National Park, not that we'd see it at all, because it was the middle of the night, mind you.

We drove off down the road, keeping out eye out for racers and one racer in particular. One crazy dude didn't have any lights, I had noticed when he left the transition, but when we passed him he was taking a nature break in a ditch. I could just make it out as the sun went down, so I knew we wouldn't, probably, kill him. 

About 5 miles into the leg, we found a gravely spot and pulled over. RD had his lights on, but because there was still some day light left, we tell it was him when he rode by. "I'm fine," he called out, "but check on me about every five miles." 

We packed up, pulled out, and rolled about 5 miles down the road. As we passed RD we noticed that he had grouped up with a couple dudes. Good! Safety and speed in numbers. 

We pulled over in five miles, and soon, RD and his little group, was whizzing by us. "I'm fine, but check on me in about 5 miles." 

We repeated that process about 12 more times, us pulling over, pulling out chairs and bottles, and watching up the road for RD. As we did, the night deepened around us. The stars came out, and the moon was rising over the massive rock thingy we couldn't see because it was dark.

With practice, we came to be able to distinguish the RD's light from the other bike racers lights. His was the one that can also be used for spotlight hunting feral hogs in Texas. 

Dramatic reenactment

So, we'd stand staggered up the road, each with a bottle, me with the cow bell, hollering at racers we couldn't see, except for their lights. I kept ringing the bell, so RD would know we were ahead. Then, when the lights would pass, we'd hold bottles out. Sometimes, the racers just passed, because they weren't Ranger Dave. Other times, out of the dark, there'd be the heavy thump of a hand making contact with the bottle and snatching it up. And, we'd catch a glimpse of Dave's rump riding uphill. 

He was cooking with gas, though. Every time he and his little group went by they were flying, and from the tone of his voice, he sounded like he was having fun. Even when they were grinding up some dark-washed mountain. 

As weird as it was, it was really fun to pull over, pull out the camping stools, and hang out in the dark of Capital Reef. We were driving through a deep canyon, if the dark shadows of the rock walls were any indication. We drove through the historic village and orchards of Fruita and parked next to the river. We listened to the murmur of water eroding ancient seabeds while we watch the bobbing white lights slip by. 

Dramatic reenactment.

At our last stop, Katie told me that she was going to have me pull out into the road before her so she could back out. The gravel was pretty deep on the side of the road. Now, I am not much of a "night driver" and when I get sleepy my mental capacity goes from so-so to semi-comatose llama. So, I pulled out and popped on to the road. Then I saw headlights behind me, so I panicked, put it in drive and drove off, figuring Katie would overtake me. 

Turns out, I had left my chair leaning against my car. I remember leaning it on the car and thinking, "I am going to forget that." I also missed the water bottle that Dave chucked onto the shoulder, so she picked up both. We met up at the gas station outside the park and she returned my items, and we waited for RD to arrive. Thankfully, we could see his lighthouse beacon about 3 miles away. 

We found the rest of the Jerks, and soon, Silver Fox Jerk was on his way and RD was recovering in a camp chair behind his car. While he huddled under a sleeping bag and slurped things, Ranger Katie and I went inside to order some Mexican food. Apparently, it is very good, and the restaurant stays open until 1am or so, until all the teams are through, which is good. 

We ate burritos and watched RD attempt to recover. After about 45 minutes, RD felt okay enough to be loaded into his car.

We had a special plan for this leg of the journey. Rather than drive to Torrey, Utah, where RD would begin his last leg, we'd drive to RD and RK's house at Bryce Canyon. Torrey, Utah was about 2.5 hours away on dark highways covered with cyclists. Bryce was 2 hours away on dark highways covered in cattle, but if we drove to Bryce, we could nap, maybe shower, and then drive the half hour to the last Dave-exchange at the appropriate time. That way, we wouldn't be sleeping in the car while the other three Jerks rode their race.

So, I followed RK into the darkness. I can't say I was really "driving." I was so tired that this point, I was just following those tail lights and praying. At one point, RK pulled over and RD hopped out and went to the ditch. Apparently, racing two really hard stages of a race just hours apart, then driving through winding roads, is not easy on the old digestive system. Dave was a hurting unit. He hadn't been able to keep food down, really, even though he desperately needed calories and fluids.

We drove on into the dark, stopping once, just so Katie and I could get out and shake things out in the cold breeze and wake up. The landscape was bathed in moonlight from the full moon. Everything was shades of black and gray and silver. Jack rabbits with suicide wishes were popping out of the bushes in front of car, and as we continued driving, cattle loomed like brown boulders along the roadside. Our last road was this dirt road along a river into the park. My eyes were so sleepy, arriving at the park felt surreal.

And then before I knew it, I was tucked into the most comfortable bed ever and falling into a deep sleep.

Unfortunately, this story doesn't have an exciting climax. R.D. just couldn't recover enough to be able to ride his last leg. He couldn't keep food down, and he looked like hell, so he had to call it and send the other jerks on without him. Then, we got to go back to sleep and sleep in late!

I think I was more shocked that people could actually complete that crazy race! What kind of idea is that anyway? Let's send people out to ride across Utah in the heat, cold, sandstorms, dark, blazing sun, wind and mountains, and see who can do it fastest. Geez. I found driving over some of those mountains kind of challenging, let alone bicycle cycling.

They should take some lessons from ragbrai:

1. Ride west to east--with the prevailing winds.
2. Ride across a state with no mountains.
3. Take 7 whole days! No rush. Eat pie.
4. Beer is the best recovery drink! Have some. Carbs! Tastiness! Natural electrolyte!
5. Ride during the day time when it is light out!
6. Everyone wins!

All in all, I had a great time crewing for R.D. I got to see a lot of Utah, watch people ride their bikes, and I got to eat a burrito at 12:30 in the morning!