To do the Hoodoo

Last year's Hoodoo 300 was my first road ultracycling experience-discovering the pristine joy of riding silently through the night over distances that most would consider somewhat outrageous.  After my recent DNF at Race Across the West in the blistering heat of the desert, we set our sights on returning to St. George for the Hoodoo 500.  Successfully finishing Hoodoo would qualify me for RAAM, and open up options to attempt RAAM as early as 2020.  

The short story is that I had 410 really awesome miles in a 512 mile race.  Oddly, the difficult miles were not the last.  From about 320 miles until about 420 miles was an epic struggle of self-doubt and self-discovery when everything that was going right suddenly wasn't anymore.  My crew got me through it, and I'm sure it was as difficult for them as it was for me. We got my legs back on and my head straight for a strong final 90 miles into St. George, a finish well below the time limit, and qualified for RAAM.  

Throughout my blogs I tend to use the pronoun "we".  My only real job race day is to pedal the bike.  My crew are with me every step of the way, following with a wagon full of feed, hydration, and encouragement.  Their investment in time is a much as my own. Their sacrifices supporting my passion are immense and deeply appreciated. Every finish is a shared accomplishment.

My crew are with me every step of the way, following with a wagon full of feed, hydration, and encouragement.  Every finish is a shared accomplishment.

My Hoodoo 500 Crew, my wife Cathy, and my youngest son Jack.

Light check in the morning on our support vehicle, cleverly named "FOLLOW".

The Routes

Both the Hoodoo 300 and 500 are famously beautiful and infamously difficult courses through the canyon country of Southern Utah.  The 512 mile route passes through Coral Pink Sand Dunes, Bryce, Grand Staircase-Escalante, Capitol Reef, Black Rock Valley, over Bristlecone Summit and down Cedar Canyon, and finally Snow Canyon.  The route traces every mile of scenic UT-12, including the 10-12% climb out of the Escalante River Canyon at 202 miles, and across the "Hog's Back", where the road is perched in the sky between two deep valleys and featured in the "Visit Utah" TV commercials.  The major summits are mostly unnamed and include the summit at Roundup Flat (229 miles, 9580'), Windy Ridge (281 miles, 8410'), Bristlecone Summit--the top of Cedar Canyon (410 miles, 9912').  Other more subtle challenges stand in the way late in the race like the 10 mile/2-3% climb to the unnamed 6450' summit climbing out of Cedar City at 445 miles, or Hoodoo's last punch: the 5 mile/3-5% climb out of Enterprise at 470 miles to another summit marked only by a small green sign.  

The Hog's Back on UT-12. Photo by Mike Conti (https://hoodoo500.smugmug.com/2019-Hoodoo-500/Mike-Conti-Photos)

The Early Miles

Hoodoo starts with a 8 mile neutral rollout as a single group containing both the 300 and 500 solos, and the 300 stage solos.  The neutral start is a pleasant affair and an opportunity for the socialize before the racing begins with a rolling segment into Hurricane, and the 6 mile/4.5% climb out of Hurricane.  Several of us it seemed were in a hurry to separate from the peloton before the narrow highway segment on out to the State Line.  The new route this year offered a scenic treat, a visit to the Coral Pink Dunes State Park.  A newly paved segment of road provided this scenic bypass, eliminating half of the high-traffic/no shoulder of UT-89/AZ-359.  After turning north off the highway onto Cane Bed Road, the lack of traffic and Utah scenery was a real treat. 

From a racing standpoint, a couple of interesting things happened along here.  First, I had been leapfrogging back and forth with Justin Diamond since before Hurricane.  Justin is a 25 year old former collegiate racer doing his first ultra.  He had a film crew and drone along, and I'm sure they got some incredible footage of both of us.  I was really impressed with his strength and pace--ultra is not a young man's sport, but he was moving right along. Also through here, Heather Poskevich from Iowa went by me like I needed an orange triangle on my back.  I had chatted with Heather during the neutral start, and was impressed with her bike setup, handling skills, and obvious fitness.  I learned that she had recently finished the Iowa Wind and Rock 340 mile gravel grinder non-stop in under 32 hours (see her Iowa Wind and Rock race report here). She was intending on riding straight through without sleeping.   It was pretty obvious who was going to be the person to beat today. 

Heather took a break out on US-89 and lost some time--I was puzzled when I saw her crew holding her bike and she was nowhere to be seen.  I first I had assumed she had changed bikes and was still up the road.  I don't know what delayed her, but she obviously figured it out.  She would more than make up the time later.  On up the road at TS1, Forschers Bakery in Orderville, Ron Iseri would roll in first, with Justin, Tim James, and myself all together 8 minutes back.  It was fun to actually feel like I was racing!

From a racing standpoint the next 50 miles were uneventful, and my mind was filled with the wonderful scenery and the gentle climb to the top of Gravel Pass (7482'), After turning onto UT-12, I had a delightful run on the Red Canyon Bike Path through Bryce chatting with Tim James.  Tim was riding super strong, but beginning to suffer in the heat.  I remember he asked me what the secret to finishing this thing was.  Truthfully, I didn't really know, I had DNFed at RAW, and this was my first 500.  Sometimes the simplest advice is the best: "Stay hydrated.  Stay fed.  Keep moving."  As I've learned, nearly everything in ultracycling rolls up to one of these three fundamentals.  At the time I forgot the tip about changing your shorts--sort of an less obvious component of "keep moving".    

Stay hydrated.  Stay fed.  Keep moving.  And change your shorts often.

We flew through Bryce and exited the bike path... 142 miles done, 8:32 into the race, and we had less than 5 minutes of stopped time.   Minimizing stopped time has always been a challenge for me, but today, nearly all of the feeds were handups, and we were hitting every one, even the double bottle and the high speed ones.  Using an all liquid diet (a custom mix by Infinit Nutrition) was working, and greatly simplified feeding.  Everything was clicking--at least for now.  The first major climbs were just ahead.

50 servings of my Infinit Ultra1 mix, about 14,500 calories! This is actually my lighter mix, the one I used at Hoodoo is 300 calories/bottle, higher in BCAA and electrolytes.

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The Tropic Canyon Wobble!

After exiting the bike path and passing just north of Bryce, the route hits the first major descent into Tropic Canyon.   The Tropic Canyon descent is not especially a technical descent, but the upper part of the canyon is steep at 7-8%.  I've had front wheel wobble issues before at Hoodoo, and they returned with a vengeance on the upper part of the descent.  At one point, the front wheel was oscillating back and forth several inches and I was resigned to getting of much speed off as I could before going down.  I managed to get the bike stopped at a pullout and almost instantly FOLLOW arrived.  The Tropic Canyon Wobble would recur throughout the remaining miles, and I learned to manage it with a combination of staying on the aerobars, a very loose handgrip, and rear-only braking. 
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In a separate project, I'm working on my ultrabike for RAAM 2021, and testing a new cockpit for the Serotta, which will include a new Enve fork and Chris King headset (to chase the wobble away), and a conservative bullhorn aero basebar.  Since 95% of my time in ultras in on the aerobars, and the rest of on the hoods stretching or climbing, I'm going to leave the drops behind, have a more aero setup.  Enve is one of the few aftermarket 1 1/8" straight steer tube forks available anymore.  Sort of ironic since the t-shirt I won at the Hoodoo raffle was an "Enve Composites".  I'm hoping to bring a local shop to work with me on the final setup.  Look for some Blog posts in the coming months as I build up Eric's Ultrasteed.  

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Down to the River and Back Up Again

After Tropic, the scenery changes as the route slowly climbs the multiple benches through Grand Staircase-Escalante.  Each layer has its own unique color in the fading sunlight.  The major climbs seem to have no names--the next 14 miles gently climbs 1900' following  Henriville Creek through blue sandstone mountains cleverly named "The Blues" on the USGS topo maps.  The spectacular scenery was only beginning with 3300' of descending over the next 33 miles to the bottom of the Escalante River Canyon.  Here is where the real climbing began, with 5000' of climbing ahead to the summit of Roundup Flats, the highest point on the first half of the Hoodoo. 

Cresting the climb up from the river was an epic moment.  I had ridden over 200 miles.  Our pace allowed us to arrive in the golden hour before sunset!  Each segment of the climb was exceedingly difficult and rewarded by an equally astonishing view in the fading golden light.  At one point I stopped for bottles to remark to my crew that I felt so alive--then had to move on down the road before tearing up emotionally over the experience.  We crossed the Hog's Back before sunset--something reserved only for those moving at a pretty quick pace.  The epic moments just kept coming.   In the fading evening, Seana Hogan passed us briefly when we were stopped at the base of a descent. We quickly overtook her again as we got underway and the climb steepened.  Finishing the climb in the fading twilight is one of the best hours I've had in cycling.  When we rolled in the TS3 in Escalante, I had been on the bike for 10 h 53 m, with less than 13 minutes of stopped time.  

Each segment of the climb was exceedingly difficult, yet rewarded by an equally astonishing view.  I felt so alive.

The Summit at Windy Ridge

The TS4 at Bicknell (260 miles) was an expected treat--Starbucks Coffee (we were told he would have coffee at the prerace meeting)!  We arrived just before midnight--nearly a full hour ahead of schedule. We found the official at the back of what appeared to be an otherwise unoccupied motel.  I was surprised that I was greeted enthusiastically by name, and he told me that I was the first solo-500 rider.  We took a short break and headed out of town.  The next challenge would be the 9 mile/3% climb to a nondescript hilltop that I had named "The Summit at Windy Ridge" on the time sheet.   Windy Ridge tops out at 8400', finishing off the last of the high altitude summits on the first half of of the route.  I was still feeling awesome, excited to be leading, having no feed or cramping issues, and still feeling strong.  The descent was incredible, blasting down the hill at 40 mph. I had learned how to control the Tropic Wobble--if I stayed on the aerobars, the wheel would run straight.  Since it was a dark moonless night, the visual scenery had been replaced by the audible ones--the occasional hoot of an owl, the song of crickets, a group of howling campers around a campfire, and the occasional rhythmic sound climbing on my deep dish carbon wheels echoing of the sandstone wall alongside the road  I had become accustomed to the periodic grown of the fan on FOLLOW, and the sound of its tires as my crew adjusted their follow distance.  I could judge the distance back to FOLLOW by the angles of my shadow in its headlights.  The miles flew by with little sense of time.

The night run to Bicknell. Photo by Mike Conti.

The Colossal Kingston Slowdown

One truth about ultracycling:  Things can go really really well--right up until they don't.

There are some simple truths to racing vast distances.  One is that things go really really well--right up until they don't.  Until Kingston, everything was going exceedingly well.  My stopped time was well managed and still under 20 min total, I was moving along well, had no biomechanical problems, and had been feeding and hydrating well on the new all-liquid diet based on Infinit products.  The only issues I had was a bike computer that would not charge on the on-bike external battery but we had a spare.  The night was still warm, as we descended towards the two river valleys that would lead us to Kingston.  After putting on a couple of layers, we cut on over into Kingston, where the temperature suddenly spiked up to nearly 70 F.  We gave it a while, then shed some layers... then it was 50 again, but this time it felt to me like it was 30.  Suddenly I was chilled, shivering uncontrollably, and just shut down both mentally and physically.  We took two long breaks without much result other than wasting time.  Seana and Heather both passed quietly in the dark.  It was a struggle just to get into Panguitch, still chilled and bundled up like it was December.  Racing to win had suddenly become a struggle to finish.   

While we were stopped, one of the relay support vehicles pulled in behind us, and one of the riders came up to the car.  "Are you Eric Pearce?" he asked.  They had been watching the run into Bicknell, and then my colossal slowdown live on the GPS tracker.  I don't think I have ever received that kind of support in a race before from another athlete.  They knew my struggle and were rooting for me.  I was genuinely touched.  I still am.  It helped get me into Panguitch. 

The final miles into Panguitch. Its about 50 degrees, I'm dressed more like its 30, and still cold.

Bouncing Back

It would ultimately take 100 miles and a good 8 hours to return to form after the Kingston Slowdown.  We have some theories about what went wrong, and it certainly reinforced the idea that you should never, ever, let an tired ultracyclist get chilled. Climbing up to Bristlecone Summit would take forever, with all forward momentum you expect in an LA traffic jam.  At times, progress was being made 1/4 mile at a time, with long stoppages, and spirited discussions with my crew about the merits of ultracycling.  I tried to put my bike on the roof rack twice, but did not have the energy to get it up there.  At one point Cathy said "Remember your dream of doing RAAM!", to which I replied simply "RAAM is stupid."  By the time we finally got up near the lava fields short of the summit, I was coming around (yes, the crew was right, I was wrong--I was not going to die).  Getting over the summit was a en-route victory bigger than finish.  The 52 miles and 5312 feet of climbing from Panguitch had taken all day. I had survived the still unexplained mental and physical shutdown out of Kingston, but had bounced back, and was ready for the final run back to St. George.  During the climb Jen Orr and Tim James had long since passed.  Jen was struggling but moving purposefully and with tenacity.  Tim James was clipping right along, obviously completely recovered from his prior difficulties. I had given up any chance of a win, or even first 50+, but finishing and the RAAM qualification was well in hand again.  I descended Cedar Canyon, controlling the front-end wobble that still haunted the bike the best I could, 

Goblins in the Dark

Riding through the night is an awesome ultra experience, but at Hoodoo, we only expected to do that once.  After the Kingston Slowdown, we were 7 hours behind schedule, and the run into St. George would be in the dark on our second night.  During an ultra, you see lots of strange things at night. Maybe they are not hallucinations if you know most of them are not real.  At RAW, I remember being startled by the sudden appearance of my right brake hood running along beside me!  Earlier in Hoodoo, I was puzzled that there was someone that looked like Mr. Potato Head looking in the back of FOLLOW, only to figure out it was my own image in the rear view mirror.
​At Hoodoo, we have Bench Road.  No one seems to like Bench Road. It's an out of character cutoff from Newcastle over to Enterprise.  It's an odd 8-mile segment of featureless local road striving to become a highway.  Even riding at night when the miles pass without a sense of time, Bench Road feels endless.  The grass along the road is high and it is very very dark.  The combined shadows from FOLLOW and my own light create all sorts of moving shadows that my tired mind tries to make sense of.  I saw all sorts of things, creatures, a living room furniture set, even a group of Peruvian sheepherders crouching down in the bushes.  I think most of them were not really there.

The Final Run From Enterprise

After surviving the imaginary gremlins along Bench Road, I was really beginning to feel back in the groove I was in for the first 300 miles.  My crew told me the Ron Iseri was 7 miles up the road.  I last saw Ron in Cedar City at the time station eating a popsicle, then he quickly left while I enjoyed my own big gulp and continued to recover,   The chance at recovering 2nd place in the 50+ inspired me and I began to chase, hammering up the climb out of Enterprise.  "Hammering" is a relative term 450 miles into an ultra--I was putting out 150-160 W at most.  After miles of chasing I was about to shut the chase down.  I had not seen another rider since leaving Cedar City.  Finally, at the top of the climb out of Veyo I spotted Ron's follow vehicle, and we passed just before the turn into Snow Canyon.   The crew had already given me my cell phone back and my wrist strap (in the unlikely event the guard at the Snow Canyon gate was there charging admission at 1 am), and I made the turn and went right down into the Canyon without stopping.  

Coming into Enterprise--a stiff flag foretells the headwinds that would slow the final run into St. George.

Finally another rider on the road!

FOLLOW says goodbye as I dart down into Snow Canyon for the final 40 minutes alone in Hoodoo 500.

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Epilogue

The support rules are such that the final miles at Hoodoo are alone.  The solitary run through Snow Canyon and St. George takes about 40 minutes, and gives you time to reflect on the ride, and on the journey that brought you to a level of fitness, courage, and character that you are completing a 300 or 500 mile solo bike ride across awesomely beautiful and difficult terrain.  And most of all, time to reflect and be thankful for those that helped you along the way.

Without my family and crew, none of this would be possible.  The crew light my way and keep me safe. You share all of yourself with your crew.  The ultra exposes your weaknesses, vulnerabilities, and self-doubt.   When you are weak, they are strong.  They remind you who you are and who you want to be.  Without my crew, I would have been heading back to St. George in a car down I-15. 

I am also grateful for the many individuals that supported us along the way: the other athletes at Hoodoo, tracking and rooting for me when I was down, and to Ian Scott-Parker who chatted with my crew outside of Hurricane, and the Hoodoo official out on FH050 who offered encouragement when all I could say was "We are contemplating a DNF".  Thanks also to my sponsors and supporters back home,

• Maria Crawford and her team at Edge Integrative Wellness
• Ray Rede and his team at US Cryotherapy Tucson
• Honey Stinger 
• Voler and Light and Motion
• My charity partner, Arizona Greyhound Rescue and the Sol Dog Lodge
• My dear friends Joel Thompson, Richard Rast, Jim and Lisa Colella
• And my crew:
  • Jack Pearce and CTS (Dirty Kanza 2014)
  • Cathy Pearce and Karin Hibler (Hoodoo 300 2018)
  • Cathy and Jack Pearce, Adam Block, Paul Rasmussen, and Maria Crawford (RAW 2019)
  • Cathy and Jack Pearce (Hoodoo 500 2019)

Tonight I end this blog with a new byline... the thought of continuing to pursue the dream of racing 3000 miles across this country is humbling.  The idea of being qualified to proceed is exciting and stirs emotions that I cannot describe and don't fully understand.  However, being qualified for RAAM, and being ready to line up in Oceanside for 12 days and 3000 miles are two different things.  The real work towards being ready to credibly roll down The Strand and make that right turn onto Surfrider Way towards Annapolis Maryland is still ahead.  I invite you to follow along.

Being qualified for RAAM, and being ready to line up in Oceanside for 12 days and 3000 miles are two different things.  The real work towards being ready to credibly roll down The Strand and make that right turn onto Surfrider Way towards Annapolis Maryland is still ahead.

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​My RAAM Story, Day 1, about 652 days to RAAM 2021.

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