Team Alchemist Blog

Guyot Loop Elevation Profile. That red hot poker at mile 12 is French Pass

Stage #3, Mt Guyot Loop.  The notable feature of the day being the death march to over 12,000 ft.  Approaching it is like doing the Firecracker 50 course backward.  So we got to descend Little French Gulch instead of climb it.

Along the way, Stuart had to see a man about a horse

I thought this would be the day that I found my legs.  It wasn’t.  I still felt sluggish and winded, but on the bright side, we came across Chris after cresting French. He was using some choice four letter words as he struggled with his CO2 and a flat tire. We stopped for a bit and got him fixed up.  We all stayed together down the rest of the rocky descent, since Chris only had about 15 PSI in the fixed tire.  We made it down fine though, and he was able to fill up at aid 2.

Disco, Chris, and I on top of Georgia Pass. Chris and Stuart crushed the climb and had to wait for me. They were chatting with tourists when I got there.

We rode most of the rest of the stage together, snapping photos, and enjoying the day. Well, as much as you can enjoy having a red hot poker shoved up your a$$,

Shower Cap Boys

The weather was intermittently rainy and then sunny.  So we stopped to put on or take off our jackets about a dozen times.  At aid 3, we donned shower caps as the weather seemed to be getting serious.  But of course, as we climbed American Gulch, the sun popped out, and we roasted under our jackets and shower caps.

Podium!

Despite my crappy riding, we still managed to get on the 3rd podium spot. We are still over an hour out of 3rd place in the overall.

More photos below.

Riding up French Pass

Little Marching Ants. This was a false summit.

From the top of French. Whole lotta this going on.

Welcoming party at the top of French. They were handing out Skittles, which I promptly aspirated on the way down.

Big Johnson. to be more precise, a smoked, nasty Johnson. Named after Tim Johnson. Bread, marshmellow fluff, Nutella, potato chips. Pickles makes it nasty. Bacon makes it smoked.