Written by: Dan Spengler

The Maah Daah Hey trail is that kind of new and untested condition. A hundred miles of single track that skirts Theodore Roosevelt National Park in the Badlands of North Dakota, the MDH has been our dream destination. The trail is a point-to-point ride in mostly desert-like conditions with no available support. Riding it requires planning. Tales of a little rain turning the trail into an unridable swamp made the fat bike the “obvious” choice. When a race appeared on the radar this August, we knew there’d be the support, transportation and and available water that’s needed to check this one off the list. 100 miles of Maah Daah Hey in a day. A stellar accomplishment on any bike. Yet to be executed on a Fat Bike.

I’m used to the looks I get when I bring the fatty to races. The frowny faces of ultralight racers encourage me. The helpless smiles of spectators delight me. When this race started from the CCC campground on the Little Missouri, it was dark. 5am. By 15 or 20 miles into the race, the sun began to shine. Each checkpoint brought the usual fatty comments – “Whoa, are those tires hard to push?,” “Is that bike heavy?” You know. You’ve heard ’em. Except this time each comment carried weight. Like, actual weight. I started to have doubts about my choice of bike.

The trail itself is unlike any other I’ve ridden. It’s vast. Real vast. It weaves in and out of red rock canyons, over grasslands, through rivers, cow herds and even a fertile forest. It’s breathtaking. It’s “The West.” During a race like this, you can’t stop and appreciate the majesty for more than a glimpse, but it’s there. It feels real. Like old-school mountain biking, it has the formula for adventure, something raw and new.

The fatty loves adventure. It’s durable and doesn’t care if your shoulders are up to taking the rocky decent it’s plowing. It doesn’t care about creatively inventing a pretty line through some questionable terrain. It just does. And it expects you to push it uphill once in a while for it’s efforts. Everyone has to push their bike at some point on this trail. It’s inevitable. The river crossings have incredibly steep banks. Some of the climbs are in the same trenches that give the Badlands it’s moon-scaped look. I kept thinking that besides Andy, I may have the heaviest bike in the race. I probably did.

The heat on this trail can be oppressive. 110 degrees F. on some riders GPS. On one seemingly endless climb, I knew my 100 miles was possibly out of reach. I was out of water and couldn’t down another power-waffle-cube-gel. But, I had passed mile 50 and I was dying to see what was around the next corner. The fatty was dusty, creaky and had a fresh tube in the front tire. The Surly Larry’s were a great choice for this trail. Fast rolling, especially over the grass that makes up about 25 percent of the trails surface. I put in some light Q tubes before the race, but the friction between the tube and tire proved too much in the heat and the tube split 3 inches along it’s seam. I was carrying a heavyweight Surly fat bike tube. I put it in with confidence. Pumped the PSI up to 12, just to be safe. I tried a couple of different chain lubes on the trail. The best of the bunch was TriFlow. Seemed to last the longest and gave the most assuring sound – which makes a huge mental difference out here. Any creak, any grind you hear, any thump of something loose is amplified ten-fold in the middle of nowhere.

I made 62 miles of trail, fixing 2 headset related mechanicals, a flat tire, and losing a crown on my tooth (during an especially rocky descent) before getting pulled at checkpoint “Evergreen.” My friends Dan and Pat made it 82 miles on their “normal bikes” before getting the hook. Andy got smart and reached the 50 mile checkpoint and piled into an air conditioned van looking for other riders who’s day had ended. At this checkpoint, it was myself and two of the many caring and curious volunteers that made this race so unique. They had more than they could have bargained for during this event. They had to convince some riders not to go on while said riders laid on the desert floor cramping and delirious. They thought we were nuts. At the time, we were.

After a 20 minute “nap” in one of the volunteers support vehicle, I drove with them looking for other riders. You can’t make a racer quit a race, but you could see the ones that needed some coaxing, which at this point was everyone. I want to restate how well these volunteers did their job on this race. Markings on the trail weren’t perfect. “Detours” took valuable time. The stations seemed too far apart for belief sometimes and emergency water seemed to vanish. But the volunteers made this race, and at the risk of sounding unmanly, I got emotional toward the end seeing a green volunteer shirt knowing I was seeing safety.

Finally, with all the riders accounted for, we packed up the bikes and took the support shuttle to the finish line in Medora for our 3 dollar campground shower. If you are thinking of doing this race, invest in the 3 dollar shower. Seriously. I was offered beer, pizza, water and hugs at the finish line, but made a bee-line to the 3 dollar shower. I kept thinking of John Travolta in Pulp Fiction gushing over his 5 dollar milkshake. 3 dollar shower. I’m telling you.

We left feeling a little defeated, but with brains working overtime on how to beat this trail with a fat bike next year. Can’t come soon enough. Tips? Bring water, lots. Bring tubes, more than 1. Bring real food, make it salty. Swim in all river crossings. All of them. And last but not least, you can’t go wrong by bringing the fatty.

Share this article!

Facebook

Google+

Twitter

tumblr

Email