Water Valley spring classic report

After weeks of email thread organization and anticipation, I arrived to cadence coffee 8:15 Saturday morning to find 17-odd bikes parked out front. Incredible. The weather was less than cooperative at -7 and a few cm of overnight precipitation, but that had done nothing to calm everyone's excitement for this once a year event.

We rolled out of town into a brisk north wind, making our way towards dogpound and water valley township. First miles passed uneventfully and after 80km (3hrs) we arrived at our first stop - the Water Valley saloon. Sandwiches were ordered, (fries and gravy to accompany mine, why not indulge when you have a guarantee of lots more calorie burning to come?). 

We easily overloaded the service capacity of the mostly-empty saloon. I even ordered a beer, knowing there was no rush over the next 60km of undulating gravel - all communications had focused on a desire to make even the weak (relative) riders feel at home on the most difficult and exposed part of the ride, and it had signed up with full intent to do so.

Despite the outstanding effort from Water Valley Saloon server/bartender/busser (all same lady) we rolled out an hour and a half later. Within 5 km we hit the beginning of the 579 gravel. Within a hundred meters all spirits at the sensation of the soft, saturated gravel underneath us. "Really firm mud" is a better descriptor, but we pushed on as the group started to show its first signs of differentiation.

Rolling along, we became more and more distant from an easy exit or assistance, and I became conscious of the increasing effort of pedaling, but also of the pre-ride plan and importance to leave no man behind unassisted. This seemed logical given the ability and experience levels present. Unfortunately, only seven of us had such discipline and courtesy, whilst the remaining group disappeared up the road not to be seen again. Interestingly, our now "broomwagon" group contained the strongest/most experienced members. 

Andrea was one of those struggling to roll her wheels along as mud filled her road bike frame. She received alternating pushes from Erik and I to help with the hills. As we carried on, we came across Trev, who was in the process of single-speeding his bike after a mud-induced derailleur explosion. 

We reached the 579 summit and looked forward seeing the well-trafficked trunk road 40, but not until another derailuer explosion and one muddy mile too many put Ryan and Andrea in the back of a passerby pickup-truck.

Around this point, the accumulation of ice-mud in our drivetrains and spontaneous explosion of derailleurs became a concern. Cogsets were so ice-filled that chains would slip over all but the most used cogs. Someone devised a clever solution which was quickly adopted by all – and the golden cogset shower was born. Desperate measures, or genius? The bikes now rolled much smoother. The 40 was pure enjoyment, sun and easy tailwind rolling. 

We reached Waiprous and re-supply at the paintball camp, then were surprised with a visit from Cindy and Ashley, who had driven out with soup and respite for those who'd had just enough. Apparently the "fast group" had disintegrated into ones and two's in varying states of shattered disarray. By this time even our paced group was pulling the plug at every bailout opportunity, and four of us carried on through Waiprous to Cochrane at a pretty brisk pacelined pace (brisk, considering ride time was now 7.5 hours).

40km melted away, and for the first time ever there was no doubts that we had to go over the wildcat hill. By this time it was almost 8pm. As we climbed in our long shadows, I realized the reason we do this ride - it's not about racing, it's about experience by bicycle. Sometimes it's a fast ride to satisfaction, sometimes it's the long haul from sunrise to sunset that produces the same effect.

Long post, for a long ride. 188km and 8:41hrs to be exact. I did take a ride home from Cochrane, but Erik had a different plan. As we rolled into town at 8:28pm, he quietly merged back onto the hwy 1A. He knew what had to be done, and off he went - to finish what was started.