Chris and I had another epic battle at Michaux. We exchanged the lead several times but I got a gap on the final climb to seal my 5th Spring Classic.
I couldn’t believe the weekend weather forecast on Wednesday when it was 87 degrees. They where calling for snow and punishing cold in the mountains of south central PA. Home of the toughest mountain bike course know to racing and a special place that tested great riders like; Floyd Landis, Tom Danielson, Roger Bird, David Duval, Gunner Shogren, Susan Haywood, Bob Ruther, Kyle Dixon, Chris Eatough and anyone else who managed to finish this beast of a course. For us in the know, this place of honor is simply referred to in great reverence as Michaux.
The Rocks are planted in the Earth like tombstones on Graves Ridge. And like half buried cars in spots on Rattlesnake ridge. The trails are so rocky but have rhythm if you can just find the line. You surely could only ride the same line twice in your dreams and if they are good dreams you don’t flat or crash.
This place is holed ground to the mountain bike racer as Chris Eatough has called it. It has been ridden by many survived by few conquered by none.
My race was a very lucky dace with fate. The rocks gave me passage as I was not there to beat them “impossible to say the least” but rather with respect to flow around and over them with patients and subtlety.
I was rewarded with my 5th win at what has come to be THE spring classic on the East Coast; Michaux Maximus!
Ride smooth, it’s faster! ☺
Jeremiah Bishop
The following is a well-written tribute to Queen of the Spring Classics for mountain biking! By Jay DeJesus fro Dirt Rag.
Dirt Rag Articles:Of Warriors & Generals by Jay DeJesus
"...at last he got so far down, so deep into the yellow depths, that pall and roar of a dust storm appeared above him, he (pedaled) in a strange yellow twilight. And here the sun showed a darker magenta. Fine siftings of dust floated and fell around him, dry, choking, and, when they touched his face, like invisible sparks of fire... He realized that during these lonely hours he was one instant a primitive man and the next a thinking, or civilized, man. The thinking man he understood; all difficulty of the problem lay hid in this other side of him. He could watch, he could feel without thinking. That seemed to be the state of the mind of an animal. Only it was a higher state-a state of intense, feeling, waiting, watching suspension! He divined that it was the mental state of the undeveloped savage, and that it brought fleeting moments of strange emotion."
- From Zane Grey Wanderer of the Wasteland.
So it was, on 16th April 2000, three mile climb in the blinding hot sun; struggling, suffering, sucking dry lifeless wind. That day would be the last time up that particular climb for me, for so many. And like too many good ones before, this would be the 10th and final chapter of the Michaux Ironmasters Classic.
Classic indeed! 28 miles, one loop; Grave Ridge, 3 Mile Trail, Rattlesnake Ridge. Like book-ends, they now meet the legendary Plantation Trail, Lindy Run, Railroad Grade-The Original 50K, Blackwater. Two classics, one loop, neither NORBA. Both now a heartfelt memory and both of equal stature to many, both "up there"in importance and difficulty as well as their respective locations on the old race calendars. Classics; one spring and the other, the final meeting place, the last Warrior Party. Get ready, Hell's come to breakfast. As I arrived at another race, my odometer clocked 543 miles. I was tired. Slight rain splattered my windshield, a soft fog enveloped the night sky and peepers chirped loudly somewhere out there in the dark velvet forest of green. Tomorrow would be the unknown, the final battle to end all battles, waged upon the brutal hillsides of the Michaux State Forest, hallowed ground. As we awoke, stood sipping French press on the porch of the Ironmasters Mansion Youth Hostel, the slight rain still fell, but a break in the clouds peeked out above the wooded hills.
Battle. Everyone was there. Generals, old and new, warriors just the same.
The course, original as I know, in fine shape to test the backs and early season fitness. And so it began with a BANG! Spinning up the road, the hammer drops, the first crack and a split in the pack as everyone dashed for the singletrack. No recovery as you worked your way through the punishing rock section (my heart-rate never dropping below 195!), stringing out the riders as positions were established. Twisting, winding, ripping through the trees, then DOWN, flat out across Grave Ridge; a cruel twisted mass of tilted slate features, flatted riders littered everywhere, fallen warriors. Yet, chasing. Always chasing. The first break was that long exposed three mile dirt road climb- a deciding factor for many with lots of attacks waged there. For others, the realization of the piercing heat and sun, slight humidity robbing power and draining energy from tired legs. Relentless with false plateaus and no real flat, no faking it. To the top. No relief, no feed. Just 3 Mile Trail, the roughest singletrack in the race-big granite rocks, no rest nor breaks, steep ups and bone jarring downs, pounding on relentlessly rock after rock. Then a slight stretch of road, up to Rattlesnake Ridge. Huge ominous looming slabs of rock, twisting broken lines snaking through the tempest of boulders to heart stopping downhill. Almost there...
Cooked. I'd been done since 3 Mile Trail, crooked in the brain from the heat and brutally cramping legs, keeping pace with an equally spent Fergie (Greg Furgeson, Trek East Coast Factory) for the last few miles. As we limped up Log Sled Climb we chatted about this race; its toughness and grit required to finish, its original layout, the regard it has from the "old timers." Fergie summed it up best, relating this race to another tough one-day European road racing classic; the Paris-Roubaix. How many of you out there know what the Paris-Roubaix is? I'll bet if you do and if you have done this race, you would feel the same way. It is forever a classic. Thank you to Shawn Withers and MORE for so many cruel and rewarding memories. This race will not be forgotten.
Perhaps good things don't die; they live on in the memories, strange dreams and silent screams in the darkness. You remember and realize that, yes! Over the bars, twilight, my face did indeed just bounce off the ground!!! The pain sets in, the dream evaporatesÉ At the time of my writing this piece, the last race was done, the ten years a fond memory like the days of Blackwater, Davis, W.Va. Immense thanks to Jess Stith and the folks at Gettysburg Cycling for their efforts in keeping the tradition alive-it would have been a monumental loss to have to see this race end. You will get another chance at this race of epic proportions, on April 22nd. Be it known that The Battle will take place on this day. Where will you be?
posted by Jeremiah Bishop # 11:55 AM 
