Huracan Chapter 3: Beware of Single Speeders

 My eyes eagerly opened at 5:00 a.m. on the dot. El Carlos had a conch shell he was going to blow into at 5:00 a.m., after he flipped the coin and the route direction was chosen. I heard the Conch and grabbed my phone to check my email. Clockwise direction! 

That was bad news. My gamble had not paid off. My 50/50 shot was now 100% going the wrong direction. I quickly pulled out my gps and started loading the CW route. Calculating, calculating, calculating, and 13% dead stop. Just will absolutely not load. Ok panic is setting in. What can we do? Start over I guess?. So I reset my Garmin and delete and reinstall the apps on my phone. Big mistake. Now I’m really lost. I have next to no cell service and no WiFi. 

Ok calmly pivot. It’s 5:45. I’ve got 2 hours and 15 minutes to the start. Starbucks has WiFi and is 17 minutes away. Do it, go! Now! Time is ticking away. Make a decision and go! So I did. 

I pulled the sheets from my windows. Left my bike leaning against a tree and drove 17 minutes to Starbucks. I sat in the parking lot and connected to WiFi, reinstalled the apps, connected the Garmin gps to my phone and starred at the devices. Loading. But not loading. Nothing would completely load. 

And then. 26 minutes later. It just. LOADED! No explanation or anything, it just loaded and calculated and now I was ready to attempt to navigate the Huracan 400 Clockwise route. 

Now that I was calm, I ran into Starbucks to get some caffeinated calories. Large brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso of course with light ice. And when I said light ice, the gal making it heard, mega-maximum ice. All was well though, less beverage to consume but same calorie count. 

I drive back to Shangri La Campground,  get dressed and everything assembled and loaded on my bike. I got out my go pro to film a little pre event confessional and….. no SD card inserted. Guess I forgot that; no big deal, less weight! I ditched the go pro and 4 extra batteries I had and kinda felt a bit of a weight lift off my shoulders. One less thing to think about, one less thing to charge, and one less thing to lose. 

Speaking of lost items, let’s break for a theory: 

Theory: I started to develop this theory through the Huracan that the more items you had, the more items you would loose. There is too much digging into bags in a hurry, in wooded areas to drop things, campsites to forget things. It’s inevitable that you will lose things. So my theory is; one of you expert bikepacker experienced persons; needs to develop a magic number of items to take. Like, a limit for us newbies. After required gear, you’re aloud 8 items only😵 use them WISELY! 

Another added point to this; I had so many extra items, I forgot what I actually brought, so I didn’t even know if I had lost things or not. So the theory is, you can pack less and then you will lose less. 

Theory end. 

The race was about starting so I scurried away to try and get a majestic Florida sunrise picture of my bike. Then It was time to line up at the Starting line. To say I was nervous was a bit of an understatement, something about leaving your vehicle, 17 hours away from your home, to ride your bike 400 miles before you arrive back to the safety of your car; made me a bit nervous. excited for adventure though. I was hoping to see an Alligator, and make it my friend. 

Then the event started and the nerves were gone, there were 100 or so bike packers pedaling through the campground and straight into the single track, lots and lots of single track. 

This would be the start of Caloric deficit. Yah see, this Florida single track will convince your eyeballs that your on flat ground, but your heart rate will confirm, there’s elevation. ALSO some Florida secret. Sand=> (equal to or greater than) Elevation. So I was working harder than I had hoped this early. But it was 75 and sunny and there were loaded bikes as far as the eye can see. And that is a cool feeling. 

The singketrack was magnificent and I was eating as I had trained. Constant stacking from my top tube bag, full or peanut butter monster trail mix from target, Bluey fruit snacks, and dried mangos because I’m gunna become healthy… really soon. However, when you break down the math, I was accidentally burning 800 calories an hour, and between choking on peanuts in the Florida sun and spitting out my trail mix and the excessive amount of time it takes to chew 13 calories worth of dried mango; plus or minus a heart rate above 160 all day; it was possible I was cruising for a bonk. But denial is like a super tool in endurance events, So I was full denial on the calorie consumption. 

Shortly after… 

I get linked up with a familiar fella, that gives me “Navigational Confidence”. Let’s introduce to you… Shrett. 

Shrett Bio:

Natural hair color: green 

Bikepacking skill level: Expert

Proof:in the patches 

Notable Film mentions: FREAKIN Ryan Van Duzers Huracan Series!!! 

(I know rite! 🫢)

So Shrett claimed “ If we get a chance to stop, I’ll send Ryan a pic of us and tell him you said Hi”. Well obviously I’ve got wayyyy more to say to the god father of bike packing but…. Hi, is a solid, solid start. 

But we never got that opportunity! 😔

However, not all hope is lost! Since the Huracan, Shrett has graciously accepted my Facebook friend request WHICH has resulted in a “recommended person you may know” of the one and only Boulder, Colorado native and resident, Ryan Van Duzer. So, I friend requested him. 

Now Shrett: I’m speaking directly to you. This is not part of the story. So everyone else you can skim past 😉. Ok Shrett, let’s pull out your phone, Pull up Ryan’s number and give a little text. Maybe something like 

“Hey RyRy, wat is ⬆️, NMHJCLV (nuthin much here, just chillin like a villain), anywho the point of the text here Mr. Duz, I met this mega radical 5’3” Ohio fella with an owl tattoo on his throat, he’s in your friend requests under “Matt Ives”; your really going to want to accept that request…. Or else 

Sincerely XoXo, green haired guy

And that’ll be much appreciated! 

Continuing on… 

Navigation confidence following Shrett was great because he is a Huracan Legend and knows the course, this was important because it seemed everyone’s gps units were becoming entangled in some sort of satellite battle royal and everyone was beeping and going different directions, quite chaotic. I held Shretts wheel as long as I could but eventually the experience/FTP was too great and I had to let him slip out of view. 

Now I was pedaling forward with my gps, being very confused and I was on the hunt. I needed to hunt down a few of the other 17 souls that had signed up for the hardest “WTF” route, so I could grab a wheel and follow them until my gps calmed down. So I come upon 3 compadres, whom of which I had identified in the previous days as being fellow “wtf” attemptees . One of which was the Mallard whisperer himself, Ship! So I asked, mind if I tag along for a bit, since we’re on the same route? And these 3 outstanding gentlemen said “sure! But we are single speed, so you’ll be faster than us”. 

⬆️ that statement has more red flags then going on a date with someone who just got outa prison. 

But, I didn’t know what that meant, I trusted these grey haired, surly riding, wide tire, single speeders 😶. 

Random thought: sometimes I think people see my tattoos and think that equates to a higher FTP, which I also thought that, hence the excessive amount of doodles on me. However I can tell you 100% I tested this theory and it is 100% false. Possibly even the opposite effect. 

Now, it could be the type of tattoos, maybe my Ostrich in the armpit, “I love my mama” on the forearm, turtle on the calf, or the rose on the hand; maybe they aren’t tough enough tattoos to convert to watts in the legs. 

But regardless, I was about to learn real fast what a “grey haired single speeder” was all about. 

Teaser: this decision would lead to speechless, delusional, possible hallucinations in about 11 hours. 

Back to the adventure 

I’m following these single speed guys through the single track now and they are just a smidge faster then my cardiovascular system would prefer, but eventually my abundance of gears would rescue me and I’ll be ahead of them! 

We got out of the single track and took a little detour to santos bike shop, which I was ecstatic about because remember the intimidating military man that told Shill and I about needing a brush and chain lube? Well, now was my chance. A chain brush, largo bottle of chain lube, and a Santos bike shop sticker; to go please. I ran outside and took a video of me cleaning and lubing my chain and sent it to my coach. (I may have gotten a little “talking too” about bike maintenance in the past😂) so a fun little reminder video was a little boost. 

My grey haired SS friends got beer and ice cream. They got an abundance of calories to refuel them and I took a video of a bike chain. This would be an error. 

Sometime before or after that, our leader Sheorge

Sheorge Bio:

Helmet color: green

Kindness rating: 11/10 

Course knowledge: better then El Carlos 

Fitness:Next Level 

Friend for life: whether he likes it or not! 

Sheorge used his vast knowledge of the course to recommend an option to skip a hike n bike section of the route that was about 3 miles but would take several hours. By this point, I was down for whatever, we hadn’t made much mileage in the single track and today’s goal was 120 miles to Samari Camp. 

Samari Camp has 2 definitions: 

1.) a carrot El Carlos dangles in front of you to ride past your ability in order to camp with friends and feel safe on night 1. 

2.) a super great camp that El Carlos has reserved for anyone, doing any distance, can meet, get water, likely food, and camaraderie at the end of the first day. 

After Santos Bike shop we made it to a beautiful trail that was thick with palm trees and other green vegetation. The rumor had it, this area was always under water and required alot of hike a bike around mud holes, but it was super dry and a quite delightful ride today.Those single speed guys were just outa sight though. I kept pushing to catch them, trying to eat and drink constantly. The water was going good, I was well hydrated and topping off my water at every available point. 

One of those points was this bathroom, somewhere out there, and apparently it was the last water stop for a long stretch of exposed road. The line of bike packers was funny to see, waiting patiently with open hydration bladders and water bottles, waiting at one drinking fountain, to fill up with the most flavorful water I had ever tasted; and it turns out, one thing you don’t really want in your water: FLAVOR 🤔 especially mystery flavor 😂. Nothing a few electrolyte tablets can’t hide. 

The gravel roads that followed were a welcomed break, my Single speed friends were finally calming down and my Gears were a little bit of an advantage. I was able to get in a taller gear, lean down onto my aero bars and enjoy some lower heart rate riding. We rode past somewhere, that they often drop bombs, although none that day apparently. Then some very large fenced in, hunting area, and then we arrived at the ghost trail. 

The Ghost Trail

The time had come, we had arrived at the first of many unique, attraction/challenges. The Ghost Trail was not a trail, it was as if you put a gps tracker on an excited  young alligator and just let it run around in the woods for 5-7 miles, and this young rambunctious alligator…. Had an affinity for going over trees, rather than around them. The trail was basically non existent, you just had to find your own way, close to the line on the gps. BUT, we were in luck, it was a drought, therefore the lake was dried up so some sort of side by side related off-road capable machine had drivin around the lake in the tall grass, matting it down and creating a trail around the lake bed, almost mimicking the ghost trail route. 

SCORE! We thought; this was a good path to replace the miserable ghost trail with and it was going to be easy! Well, it turns out the “all terrain vehicle” had driven in the opposite direction we needed to go, so we were riding into waist deep tall grass that was laid down somewhat by tires, but we were riding into them, almost as if every individual grass blade was intentionally trying to push my tire backwards. It was not easy pedaling, unless your apart of the “grey haired single speed coalition”, then apparently you just stand up and slowly pedal along at a conversational pace. Meanwhile ol Ostrich tat over here, was in first gear trying not to tip over and frantically trying to follow the tire tracks in front of me. I kept loosing sight of my friends Shoerge and Shlint. 

Shlint Characteruzation: 

Position held in GHSSC (grey haired single speed coalition): Vice President 

Backpack of choice: Big frog 65

Spooky adventure fact: he broke his pedal at TNGA and rode off course to Walmart, bought flat pedals and running shoes and rode the 100 miles left to the finish 

Beer: was like giving him rocket fuel 

Brotha from anotha motha vibes: All day, everyday 

Once I would loose sight of those guys, the feeling would immediately switch from: Florida Adventure race.. to.. Alone in the vast grasslands of the African desert. … Then I would see them again and put in too much effort to regain contact. 

The Ghost trail was the first nail in the coffin for that day, it was around 5 miles long and the heat mixed with the slow calculated effort and many of trees to lift my bike over, I had stopped eating. Once my body goes 20 minutes without food, I’m in bad shape. Now it had been well over an hour of intense effort; both physically and mentally trying to navigate the Ghost trail. 

We then popped out onto the road and my friends were starting to show chinks in their armor. They were saying things like “my legs are feeling it already!” And “ I’m out if energy, I need food”. This was music to my ears, hopefully the pace would slow down and I could work on some recovery. We were on roads now, so my gears were shinning, I was able to keep pace with the SS guys and lower my heart rate. Time to eat some more food. I tried a mango and had to spit it out, food was not going to be easily consumed anymore. 

Distance update: 

Mileage on the day: 60ish

Time: almost dark 

Goal for camp: 120 miles 

I was becoming increasingly aware that my body was disagreeing with this effort so far, I was bonking. As my calorie deficit was growing, it was becoming more and more of a struggle to maintain the positive mindset. This is what makes the Ultra distances and endurance bike packing events so enticing to me, I love all the different angles you can train. Like the brain, the brain tells you so many tricks, but you develop tools to help you get through those negative thought tricks. I’ve got lots of tools, bonking is my specialty, I’ve trained it very consistently, but not intentionally. 

We were close to Shockley Heights, a tiny little country store in the middle of nowhere. This was a staple for the event and the first major re supply of the route, and they had pizza! I think we were around 65 miles in and I knew that I could not do the 120 to Samari Camp. I would need to find somewhere to stay before then, but the beauty of bike packing; is that you can stay anywhere, anytime. Maybe slightly illegal, but if it’s dark, and you wonder into the woods, secure a clearing, and leave before sun up; then all you basically did was take a little longer break then usual. 

So at some point I would make the decision to stop and sleep somewhere, but hopefully my SS friends…. Who were vocally displaying their suffering, would recommend a camp first! 

We rounded the corner and there was Shockley Heights, with at least 60 bikes leaned all over and Smiling cycle enthusiast stuffing their faces with pizza and bags with sugar. The line inside to buy my pop tarts, Gatorade, and water took about 30 minutes. The shelves were empty, we were buying everything they had and completely overwhelming them with pizza orders. 

I tried to eat a chocolate eclair ice cream bar, it was easier then chewing to just kinda left it melt in your mouth and drizzle into your belly. And then I got that feeling, the unsettling feeling of those 3 Imodium I had taken that morning, they were tapping out and calling it quits on the blockage for the day and wanted to let me know. 

This problem though is not really even a problem anymore. After the Mexican belly buster surgery 8 years ago, I quickly learned that diaper bags are not just for babies, they are also for endurance athletes. So I went to the closest bag to me, that’s rite, I’m no dummy, that trash panda bag rite under my seat on my top tube with the “worlds greatest dad” keychain on the zipper, yeah that’s the “shit kit” bag. The most important of all the bags. So I grabbed my kit and took a confident stroll across the street into the wooded area, where I confirmed that my body had come to a decision on the day. And that decision was: IF, IF, I decided to force some calories down my throat and refuse to let them come back up, my body would fast forward the process and divert all calories elsewhere…. And Not where I wanted them. 

I’ve been here before though, and I would make it through. The vibe at the Shockley store was that everyone was whooped, and it seemed most people were going to stop at the next campground. So they would be my new plan, I would hang with the SS guys and then bail at the next campground. How far away was the next campground you ask? I have no idea. That was a lot of thinking. I’ll just follow people and it will work itself out. 

Ship gave me a piece of pizza and it was pretty good, that warm food is a pretty nice break from all the snacks in my bag. I ate everything but the crust, and saved the crust in my pocket. 

My 3 new best friends were smashing pizza, ice cream, and beer and taking fun medications. They were just refueling with superpowers I would find out. I put on my leg warmers and my light rain jacket, along with my reflective vest, front and back lights, and my helmet light. It was dark now and my intel was that we had “a few road miles, a few single track miles” and then we would evaluate at the next campground. That was perfect, that campground was my goal. 

Leaving Shockley Heights

We took off down the road and I had high hops that it was 99.2% road miles and .8% single track miles to the next campground. I had my percentages rite, just flip flopped, as we immediately turned off the road into sandy slightly uphill single track. Oh know! Time to use my sharpest tool in my mental tool shed. DENIAL! I was in total denial that we would be on this single track more than a mile. No more than just one more mile. Around the next turn is a downhill paved road, closed off to cars, with warm wind, that led rite to my tent already set up in a campsite. So just make it to the next turn and we’re good. This is a fantastic tool if you never look at your bike computer. That’s the key, never know what mileage or time you’re at, just consistent, repetitive, bold face, lies to tell yourself. Works like a charm. 

As soon as we get into the single track the GHSSC grows wings and floats away; and I immediately just become ok with that. It’s ok, I can let them go, I have my computer, food, water, all the gear; it’s ok to be alone. And then my computer says “82 miles!!! Great ride!” And turns off. WHAT THE heck! Now I can’t stop to mess with it, I have no idea where I’m at, there are so many intersections in this trail and I don’t know where to turn. I have to pedal faster and upshift so I can try to see the lights from the SS crew, that’s the only option. So I push harder and at every intersection was the Mystical Mallard Man himself; Ship. Ship was as solid as they come, he waited for me at every turn and made sure there was no way I could get lost. 

I had in my mind that I should maybe share my energy struggles with Ship, but everytime I would catch up to him and he would say “you good bud”, I would accidentally gather my composure and calmly in the most cool guy voice ever exclaim “yep”; and he would fly away again with his feathers and the chase was back on. 

Toxic trait: I’ve got this cool toxic trait where I will lie about physical condition to everyone, including myself, until it’s so obvious and apparent I cannot hide it any longer. Combine that with a 78,675 lumen outbound light on top of your helmet, shining at someone and it’s easy to fool kind people into thinking you’re “ready to rip😉”. 

This single track had to end soon, from what I remember it was pure sand, 2”-6 foot deep, at grades from 1%- 1 million%. I kept going, as hard as I could. My legs still had life, they weren’t cramping or hurting really bad, it was my energy, I had none. So I tried to utilize my legs and put down more power to catch their lights, but I was too deep into the bonk, just thinking would send my heart rate to zone 4. 

The temperature started dropping and the shivers were starting, I had worked up a sweat in this sandy single track wearing a rain jacket and now every-time I slowed down it was immediate shivering. 

Sheorge noticed the Absence of my lights and stopped to let me catch up. This time I was prepared with the correct answer when he asked “you doin alright Matt?”. “I’m starting to feel it I think, I’ll probably just stay at the campground if it’s available” I replied as if I had not lost 7 lbs on the day and had 4, energy sucking, mega dehydrating, diarrhea events. Sheorge assured me it wasn’t much further and we would come to the road that the campground is on. 

We pressed on and now that I had vocally spoken weakness, I was hurting. Something about not knowing before, kept the pain at bay, but now knowing I was close to being done, my brain allowed the hurt to be felt with vengeance. I started to think I couldn’t, or shouldn’t continue on. Not like for the whole event, just for that night. I started scanning the sides of the trail for an opening to camp. I figured I would just stop and start setting up, Ship would come back and find me and I could tell him that I was staying here. 

Hallucination or Hunting?

It’s hard to know when your hallucinating, because unless your with someone else to verify or contradict; you don’t know if that racoon really has 2 broken legs and is hissing at you, or your hallucinating from a bonk. I believe hallucinations are usually sleep related but, it’s hard to tell. 

So I had given up for the night, I stopped pedaling and I would find a clear spot and set up camp. Then I believe I heard an abundance of barking dogs, with flashing lights, and it was on the other side of a barbed wired fence, that was constructed pre 1700s era, therefore it was easily crossed by an angry hunting dog but not easily navigated by a bonked bike riding guy. That mixed with the message we received at Shockley Heights from El Carlos about an angry land owner around mile 90, my only option was move forward. Immediately! 

So I “emptied the tank” as they say, A few painful, but fast miles later and we arrived at the road. By this time I was struggling to hide my depleted condition and I basically just shouted “please find me a safe spot for my tent”. Sheorge, the amazing outstanding human that he is, pulled out his phone and found the most direct route to the campground. Just down this road about a mile he said, “I’m sure there’s some fellow riders you can share a spot with”. 

T.M.I. Alert: so I’ve got bad anxiety, like that weird anxiety where you’d rather grocery shop when the store opens at 5a.m. Because the thought of going at a normal time and running into SHlinda the HOA lady and listening to the latest update on who is NOT putting their trash cans away…… is just not a mental energy bar,  I don’t want to waste. 

That Anxiety also means that I’ll never ask for help. Ever. Like if a school bus tips over onto my body and only my head is sticking out and you ask if I need help? “No thanks, this is comfy, I’ll just hang here for a minute 🙂” . And that’s something Therapist SHamy says we need to work on 😉😂. 

So here I was, about to make SHamy proud. Mega Bonked mode does not have anxiety. It only has survival mode. Which is just so fantastic to get to survival mode. Nothing else matters, not the dog hair on the couch, or the high electric bill from those 14,000 Christmas lights, not the super hard exam I have next week. Survival mode strips you down to: Food, Shelter, and Water. That’s why I do these things. Survival mode is so pure and simple and easy. Easy to Focus an ADHD mind to a simple task. Rest and hydrate. 

Therefore as soon as we crossed that speed bump into the campground, I went to the first bike I saw and shouted “I’ll pay you anything to set up my tent in the corner”. Now if we’re being honest, I never heard his response over the sound of my bike hitting the ground and my tent being shaken out of its satchel. My decision making was non existent. I moved my tent multiple times for a variety of confused reasons. Then when I landed on a spot for my tent, I tried furiously for a long time to put my rain fly on upside down but it just wouldn’t work. It had to be rite side up. Once my tent was up, I randomly put things inside it, got out $20 and put it on the picnic table and got in my tent. 

I was already very cold from the temps getting into the 30s, matched by the massive amount of calories I had used and not replenished. 

One thing I had not scrimped on when packing was warmth. I had a feeling the first night would be rough and I wanted to make sure I could be warm and safe in my tent. So I put on my rain jacket and pants, extra socks, my puffy pants and puffy jacket, hood and hat, inside my sleeping bag liner, fully zipped up into my 32 degree sleeping bag laying on top of my 4” thick sleeping pad. 

Whew did I feel relieved. I was safe and warm. Sleep wouldn’t happen due to the bonk, too much trauma for the body, but I knew that. Warm laying in 1 spot until sunrise would help almost as much as sleep. 

Before Sheorge and the other members of the GHSSC left, Sheorge was spitting facts at me like : looks like we did just over 3,000 feet of climbing, 92 miles, and just under 8 hours moving time. 

For context, my closest adventure I had done resembling those kind of stats was; 500 ft climbing, 84 miles, and just over 10 hours of moving time, on an unloaded carbon fiber bike. With a tailwind. 

Now I have Amazing endurance coaches and I have had multiple long, hard, awful, amazing days in the woods. But mentally my brain has a mental block at 84 miles. It’s the longest I had ever ridden. So 92 miles with 3000 feet of climbing in under 8 hours moving. HOLY MOLY! That’s the biggest effort I had ever come close to putting in, and honestly, my body; muscular system wise, was solid. I felt good, the training and yoga and meditation was on point. Just that pesky anxious eating, or anxious not eating, with the itty bitty stomach that got me. 

Also looking back on it, I learned that single speeders are among the most elite athletes on earth and the grey hair is because they ride to fast for color to stay in. 

Moral of the story: if you see some grey haired single speeders talking about how they met at TNGA (trans north Georgia- 550 miles with about 60000 feet of climbing)…. If you see a group of those guys… pause, don’t make eye contact and back away slowly. Do not engage! Their kindness will make you go against your coaches advice and go WAY. TO. HARD. 

As always, thanks for hanging out and keep a lookout for chapter 4 to see if I recover or call my mom to rescue me from the Florida sand. 

From my tippy toes, Matt