Through the desert in a race with no name
By Bogue
The Sunday after Thanksgiving, everyone coming down from Mammoth complained how it was colder in Bishop than it was up on the hill. “It’s 20 degrees, but at least it’s not windy!” Normally it wouldn’t be any big thing, but it was that day for the dozen-plus people dressed in spandex, standing out in the biting wind next to their neither fat-nor skinny-tired bikes. There were a couple of mountain bikes in there, but for the most part, they had specialized bikes, looking like road bikes with slightly fatter tires.
They were awaiting the start of the Owens Valley Cycle-Cross Series, organized by Bishop resident Scott Weaver. Asked whether there was an official group associated with the race series, Weaver said no.
“Should we make up a name for the story?”
The race started right at the cars, on the dirt road next to the canal off Dixon Lane in the northwest corner of town. Down the road a short way, then cutting back through the parking area, then weaving through a maze of flagging for a small, technical area before taking off down a single-track. A couple hundred yards down was a pair of small wooden barriers that bikes had to be carried over, and a few hundred yards past that was a small hill that sorted the riders out by style. The first rider rode up, another ran up next to his bike, another ran up carrying his bike. Back down the knoll, along another canal, across a series of single-tracks to the graded dirt road to the start.
Scott, the organizer, gave me a brief rundown of the rules. Somebody should pre-run the course to get a base time, and then they multiply that by however many laps it takes to get 45 minutes to an hour’s worth of riding in. “We only do seven laps now, because that is how high our numbers go,” he said, referring to the 5×7” numbers his wife Mary holds out for the leaders to see. The race ends on the winner’s lap, so even if you are dragging a 25-pound bag of dog food under your spandex shirt and lapped twice, you are done when you cross the finish line.
Scott came across the line first this day, not that it really mattered. There is just a tinge of competition in the air but it is mostly about camaraderie. There are a few people ringing cow bells and blowing horns, and the riders themselves join in when they finish. One of the riders flatted in the first lap, so I got a chance to look at his bike closely. Dang. “How much are those wheels?” I ask. “A couple thousand bucks, retail.” He answers. “I’m sponsored, so I got ‘em for $800. They’re boron.” They may as well have been kryptonite for all I knew. Later on, Scott explained that the tubular (sew-up) tires worked better than clinchers because they can be run at lower pressure without flats, but that obviously didn’t work for that fellow. Somehow I had it in my head that this was fairly new, that this was a cross-training thing for cyclists between seasons so I was surprised when Scott told me the history. “We’ve been doing this for 10 or 12 years.” He told me. “This is about our twentieth race in this series. It’s probably our last one of the year, but some people are interested in having one more.” There were only 12 or 14 riders that day, it being Thanksgiving weekend and butt-ass cold. Usually, however, the races draw a couple of dozen riders.
Immediately after the race, one of the guys filled a barbeque with wood and lit it off, the cars were circled against the wind, a table got set up and covered with food and the beer bottle opener became the prized possession. I found out that everything used to be cooked after the races, but now it was just brats and sausages, easily cooked and eaten, along with a table full of chips and hummus and desserts. The after-race party went on as long as the race did, a couple dozen people in puffies enjoying food and beer with old friends and at least one more new friend.
For information on the next race series, contact Scott Weaver at scotteweaver@yahoo.com.
