Team Margarita at Whiskey 50: Trip Report

Thursday:

A 7am drive through both heavy rain and the rush hour madness ended in Beaumont where Sarah discovered she had left her ID, Credit cards and phone at home. Turning the hunk of junk Civic around to go back into the rain and rush hour traffic required a steely will not to cry. Lunch time came early with a stop at Ruby’s for a PB Shake and a chicken burger. Team Ryan in Margarita Machine 2 (David’s Jeep) sent me a text saying that their lunch had involved ‘possibly the greasiest Denny’s in existence.’ I felt a little better about my PB blow-out after that. The rest of the drive sailed by without anything eventful. If Blythe is the anus of Arizona then from there we headed northerly through the lower intestines of some shady towns where hope had long since departed. Closing in on Prescott we got another report from the Hill-Mobile that it had stopped hailing and raining. Just outside Prescott we spotted the Mann’s car off the 89 where Justin was out doing some preview riding. On getting to Whiskey Row Sarah demanded I pull over so she could get out, strip down into her Cycling kit and head off to try some of the course! That didn’t quite happen but I dropped her off to ride whilst I chatted to her competition on the phone.

The hotel was a pleasant surprise. The lobby looked awesome and they had some trippy native American pan-pipe music wafting out of the speakers. Room was nice, spacious with a decent view. Heading over to the Hill-Room it was chaos. David had done a major ‘Blythe’ in the out-house and although the air still looked clear the wilted flowers and paint peeling off the wall told the real tale of a mustard gas attack. Sarah returned from her pre-ride and although we were all starved we did what anyone would do if they had access to a casino and headed off to blow mad cash in a smoke-house filled with the dregs of humanity. Beer was $1.50 a pop and a Jack & Coke was $3.50. You can’t say no to that. Ryan disappeared and whilst we waited for his return I threw down mad cash to tune of four American dollars and got the big zero in return.

Finding Ryan at the bar chowing down on some tasty calamari and Salmon steak reminded us all of the difficulties in getting five people(three of whom I think I can safely say are picky eaters) to agree on meal venues, times and anything else. Disaster averted we headed into town and found only one place open. The local Indian. Ryan and Kt had bailed leaving David, Sarah & I to brave the unknown and enter the spice-fest. It was 9.57pm. On entering I asked the owner if he was still serving. He froze momentarily and took off running like a madman, down the stairs along some long corridor and out of sight before we could hear him yelling at the chef. We entered, sat down and quickly made our choices before the owner came staggering back over demanding to know who we were and what we wanted. I don’t recall why but he demanded I do Jack Daniels shots with him at the bar if we wanted to eat. Moving to the bar it became clear that he was even more wasted than it first appeared, maybe even beyond wasted. Every other phrase had him kissing his hands, making prayer gestures and starting his sentences with ‘Mother ****er…………..’ At the end of a long day it was pretty surreal. It became more so when the pasty looking geeky waiter asked David whether he had AIDS (Seriously - wtf?!). He said ‘I thought I heard you say you had AIDS?’ (We were talking about the Aid Station at Skull Valley). He then followed up with a series of slam-dunk highly non-PC japes about getting AIDS and having AIDS. The very fact that someone would say this, someone that looked like him as well – was funny in itself. We were about to leave when the drunken master returned and demanded we hand out 15%-Off cards to every rider we met. As a result he gave us a 3” tall stack of cards. The day ended with me saying a prayer for Ryan and Kt - Sending David in there ‘weapons hot’ after a prawn Balti wasn’t going to end well.

Friday:

David, Sarah & I headed out to go Jeeping on part of the Whiskey 50 race route whilst Ryan & Kt headed off to rent a Hog (Hog as in Moto – not as in ‘squeal like a pig’) for the day. Jeeping was pretty cool; we briefly got lost but drove down Skull Valley and came back along the highway. 

We made it back to town with minutes to spare before the Pro rider meeting in the local theatre. It was good to see all the riders and recognize the odd famous and familiar face. There was a good presentation, a speech by the Mayor and the local Forestry commission before it was time to head back to the hotel to get the bikes ready for the Criterium race around the town centre. David had already been to the bathroom 4 times today. After last night’s curry meltdown he’d been talking about Ex-lax and Metamucil. What kind of medieval deviancy has affected this boy? 

Elks Theater: 

The warm up for the Criterium looked like fun. I took a few pics and helped Allison get the right number on her bike then noticed a camera crew doing some filming. One of them came over and asked whether Sarah was in the Crit. Sarah was on her way back from a break (had David given her performance enhancing stomach / emptying pills?!) so I talked up some of her cycle related achievements to the film crew before Sarah got a solid 5 mins plus of air time for the forthcoming Whiskey 50 DVD! Best bit was when she was asked what Team Margarita represented – the interviewer’s retort…’So you sit around drinking margaritas post-race’?! - Awesome press!

Writers note: At this point in time Sarah had already transgressed the team moto of ‘minimum effort’ and little did she know she her case had been sent forward to the elders for possible excommunication for violating the prime directive.

The Crit started. There was almost a pile up at the first corner (Sarah needs to watch more F1 races so she can see the best lines for 1^st corners.) There then followed 20mins of flat out racing on the street. The 1^st hill after the start/finish straight was brutally steep and made for an excellent vantage point. Sarah was clearly enjoying herself way too much and I don’t think she ever wanted it to end – OK, not quite. It really did look pretty brutal. Sarah did really well out of the field and would have done ever better if she used wider lines on some of the corners that sapped her speed and forced her to work harder. It looked excessively strenuous considering it was bust 36hrs away from the Pro race. During the Crit a man dressed as a gorilla ran up and down along with semi-naked youths and a grown man wearing only very baggy Speedo’s. These Prescott folk have been isolated too long.

Sarah's start:

Sarah's turns:

Gorilla and underwear man (heckling Chloe):

After the race the Team hit the New Belgium beer garden to watch the Pro-Men’s Crit race. Cheap and frosty beer is always good after a long day. 

David in the Pro Men's crit:

With the beer froth still wet on my face we headed over to the Girley Grill with the Mann’s to follow the team tradition of pre-race liquid carbo-loading. There was a wait for a table for seven but they kindly opened us a separate room upstairs. Whilst we were grateful for this special treatment I think we all knew deep down that the hotel had called them and warned them of the potential damage that having David’s poisoned gas rear end in close confinement with paying customers may cause. Potential fire/explosion hazards were no doubt talked of and the fact that there was a fire in Whiskey row some days later is unlikely to have been a coincidence.

Ryan and I started a pincer attack on the bar that started with a 1-2 jab of IPA and Jack on the rocks and culminated in an upper-cut of Guiness with another Jack chaser as the final blow. In between we had some great pasta and some good laughs. We headed home for last minute race prep and prayed not to wake up with a hangover.

Saturday:

Woke up early and didn’t feel too bad from the night before - relief. I headed down to the lobby and spotted Ryan already tucking into a mother-load type breakfast. I resisted the temptation to ride my bike out of the elevator and straight down the stairs into the bar area despite having wanted to do it since I arrived.

Sometime later Ryan and I are lined up at the back of about 1000+ riders:

It didn’t take too long after the starting gun for us to actually start moving – (it took about 10mins in the El Tour du Tucson with 8000+ people). We got going and were soon climbing through the local side streets of Prescott. Locals stood in their gardens and driveways and waved as we rode by. This was my 1^st exertion since arriving on Thursday afternoon and both Ryan and I commented on really feeling the elevation. Some miles in whilst still on the streets there was a short downhill leading into a tight right hand bend. Approaching the apex we could hear another of the locals cheering us on but her tone sounded slightly off through the buzzing swarm of freewheels and roar of tyres on tarmac. On rounding the corner I saw the woman and notice her expression and frantic hand movements. Not a moment later a large grey deer comes hauling out of her driveway but there’s nowhere for it to go because there’s a solid stream of riders flying by. Those to the right and middle of the peloton of riders see it and brake hard but those on the far left have no time to react. I’ve heard of deer taking down riders before but in this case a large 200lb+ rider T-bones the deer at a solid 25mph (after the briefest of tyre lockups). The deer slammed into the floor hard as did the rider and his bike. Grey deer fur was all over the road but thankfully it sprang up (eyes wide in terror) and ran off into another garden. Wow – seen it all now - and up close too. On meeting the dirt trails we soon ground to a halt where the fireroad turned to singletrack. Unbelievably we were pretty much stationary for 15minutes or more – mental note to not start at the back if I do this again – this was caused by some riders not being able to ride the rock step-ups and small technical features. The traffic jam continued on and off until about mile 9. There was a lot of fun singletrack, water bar drops of a few feet and other assorted trail objects to enjoy. Skull Valley was a long long way down and it was getting hotter too – the climb back up was never ending and not long past the aid station I felt the onset of cramp. More super fun singletrack followed but I soon ground to a halt with my usual leg cramps (on cramp hill no less). The final part of the trail before getting back on the streets for the descent back into Prescott involved criss-crossing a stream over and over with a lot of rock gardens that are hit at speed. Two people in front of me pinch-flatted on the rocks and then it was the final stretch on the road. My legs had come back to life and my Epic was blazingly fast on the street. I got into road racing mode and sprinted between groups of riders, slipstreaming for a few seconds to get my breath back then sprinting to the next group. I love riding downhill on the street on my Epic – it was probably my favourite part of the ride – something’s not right with that! Strong brakes, loads of grip and the Brain tech allowing me to not waste any energy. Afterwards we headed over to The Raven for some good food and a well-earned beer. Saturday night was a night in at the hotel where I finally felt pretty tired.

Ryan's finish:

My (Keith's) finish:

Post-race beers:

Sunday:

Sarah and David were up early and both took off flying for the Pro start. 

After snapping a few pictures the unstoppable beast that is Ryan’s belly demanded a primo food intake. Sadly the wait for breakfast was interminable but eventually we settled into our morning banquet. The waitress was probably the feistiest and most genuine we’d come across which was refreshing after years of OC manicured ‘how may I be of assistance to you today and obligate you to give me as much of your pitty money as I can whilst not caring a bit whether you enjoy your meal or whatever you say’ attitude. Post breakfast carbo-blow out hit us hard and the only thing we considered doing for the next 4hrs was lolling through the bike expo and lying down. 3hrs or so in with lunch approaching we spotted the balcony (empty) above Whiskey Row and in a flash we were up there with midday drinking the only thing on our mind. The old duffer behind the bar was a right character and seemed pleased that we started tipping back the Guiness so early in the day. Our elevated view point allowed us to both heckle the masses and get an awesome view of ‘Lamb Chop Sideboards’ Kabush coming home to victory on his Scott 29er with Fox prototype electronic suspension. Sometime later David came through covered in a film of white powder. The uneducated may have thought he’d been filming a remake of Scarface or had sweated out Cheez-It salt badly we knew deep down it some kind of side effect from the X-Lax. Sarah came in 9^th in Class and promptly keeled over after the finish line, bleeding badly from one knee and enjoying the cramps that I put up with on most rides. 9^th was an awesome finish in one of her first Pro races but additionally she had won some decent cash too – always a bonus. We headed down to the Raven again for most post-race grub and fine ales and the rest of the day was something of a blur. Assorted moments were chilling in the hot tub, winning more mad cash in the casino, Team Margarita vehicle getting reversed into and smashed up.

The car debacle (victim of a teenage driver):

Monday: 

Mundane chores of packing up the Team Margarita off-road command vehicle and despite a decent feeding last night at the Girley Grill we set off for a solid breakfast and then tracked down the local Donut Factory. Before embarking on the looooong drive back to SoCal. Awesome weekend over!

Keith