November 8, 2006 (Costa Rica) – Well, the debates are raging – how much heat exhaustion, how much dehydration, dual suspension vs hardtail”¦ and finally is La Ruta a good race or a mad man’s adventure?

At the end of Stage one I was convinced that La Ruta was a hiking mad man’s adventure, not really a bike race. So the hardtail strapped to your pack would have been ideal, and I can tell you that even when I am completely whipped, there’s always more in this old man’s tank.

Stage 2 was essentially an all-day odyssey up (37 kms), steep at the bottom and finally pitching up on a paved road to the top of Irazu volcano. Followed by, you bet”¦ a 30km downhill, which would be nice, I thought.

We were all warned to take a jacket with us as the elevation we were starting at, and the heights we would climb to, did not offer the usual heat of Costa Rica.

Being mentally crushed the day before I convinced myself that just taking a sightseeing tour would be fine – no pressure, just roll out, relax and enjoy.

Woke up again at 4 a.m. and blasted into the cool morning air. Up, up and away, truly this stage was built for the small men, not yours truly “˜a burly N. American’. But I climbed very well and got stronger as the day wore on. Into the clouds we went, just a little sad that the top of the volcano was covered in clouds, as the view which takes in both coasts (Pacific and Caribbean), is supposed to be breathtaking.

This stage was so thoroughly like a typical day at TransAlp or TransRockies that I can’t say too much – I was happy to be back on a true cycling course and the descent wasn’t “all that”. It was a boulder field of rocks, at which point I was loving my dual suspension Rocky Mountain Element. I rolled into the finish with a small mechanical, the last 8 kms being pretty wicked, a gravel road two-wheel drifts and a big grin – viva Costa Rica!

Stage 3 was coming and at this point unbelievable day one was a distant memory of bonking and heat exhaustion. Day two was business as usual, and it barely felt like a hot tropical country with the cold air at the top of the mountain, so I was right at home. That brings us to the penultimate day.

According to the profile it was 120 kms long with three climbs in the first half (60 kms) then flat out to the Caribbean Ocean for the second half. This had been my goal the whole event – if I could stay with the climbers, maybe I could sprint for victory.

Another 4 a.m. start and we were onto the climb, no rest for the wicked. I was feeling amazingly good and came over the top comfortably with a group. The right size four, all good men ready for a long day of road pounding. On the first major descent I flatted, but I can’t describe how rough, fast and exposed this descent was. As usual with 4 on the go, 25% gets bitten, and it was me. I started to fix my flat and realized that the tourist had only brought a pump and not a CO2″¦ ha ha ha!

Back on the bike I caught a bunch of people that had snuck by me during my flat. I was looking for a group to work with and did not want to be isolated especially for the last 60 kms. On the next descent I flatted the other tire. Once again I was somewhere between frustrated, as this was the day I was actually feeling good, and doubled over with laughter at my own irony – again me and my Austin Powers hand pump, ha ha ha.

So I managed to catch a few more guys this time, but they were a groupetto of three and moving pretty slow. Some others came through blowing up the group and splintering another small alliance that had formed. I pushed on with two riders only to find myself isolated on the next hill.

Plan A, to go for the stage or overall GC gone. Plan B to have an ok day, gone. Plan C “tourist” Dre cruising alone to the Caribbean Ocean — that was on. As I descended the last rough patch of gravel to the flat run-in, and guess what – another flat – and you bet no more tubes. I looked about and sure enough some local Ticos (that’s what the locals are called) were riding counter-flow. They immediately swarmed about and took over; they gave me a tube; and then elbowed me out of the way and took charge. I was soon on my way.

With 60 kms to the Caribbean Ocean, the heat was climbing and I was all alone. I put my head down and within 5km had began to pick up other guys, soon we were 7-strong. Groupetto three was to be my new home for the next 40 kms.

Overgrown rail tracks and dilapidated rail bridges were the sign that the end was near. As the finish came so did the cat and mouse end run ensue”¦ antsy racers nervously position themselves and tired racers hide.

Enough, I jumped away and decided to power home alone, no more games. Along the final kms I picked up three more blown souls, and dropped them, finally coming to the beach with one young gun I had worked with 100 kms and three flats back.

The race was over and the debate will rage on, but truly La Ruta is an adventure. It is one of the toughest races on the planet and whether or not I will come back remains to be seen. I did manage to rise above my first day’s debacle, and even impress myself. Mostly though I take my hat off to my fellow Conquistadores. Success under these conditions is not easy and champions we all are.

Thank you to La Ruta for a “journey of growth” (though I thought this area was full), and thank you to my fellow competitors, for the shared road from ocean to ocean, along the footsteps of the Conquistadores.

Dre