Calimesa Country Club CX: Drunk Ants
This past weekend's southern California cyclocross road show took everyone out to a place called Calimesa. What did I know about Calimesa before this? I knew it was about half way between home and Palm Springs, and is home to a Bob's Big Boy. What do I know about it now? The freeway can become quite impacted by people trying to get to Oak Glen, and the old Calimesa County Club grounds are a fine place to hold a bicycle race.
the stampede's away
I knew my beer was mostly gone, but looked down at the cup to check anyway and that is when I saw it, near the top of the still somewhat foamy amber liquid - a big ol' black ant doing a slow back stroke just beneath the surface. My first thought was, son-of-a-bit..., how did that get in there? After that I rapidly sifted through other questions - how long had it been there? Had there been more of them in the cup at some point? Was one, right now, attempting to climb back up my gullet? And then, with a slight change of course, was it moving in slow motion because it was drunk? I mean, how much been can something that small consume before reaching that state? Because the Cat 4 and Cat 5s were on the course I didn't have much time to ponder the answers to those questions; that combined field, plus the Cat 3s, who had unloaded just a minute before them in the same wave, was one of the larger Cross fields to occupy my recent memory and, by this point of the race, having become all strung out, there were not many gaps large enough for such considerations.
Fortunately it was a long morning (and early afternoon) with plenty of time to circle the course, cutting across here and there while looking for the best vantage points, getting stabbed in the ankle by the dried stalk of some previous plant, and realizing just how nice a course had been laid out in this old golf course. I think if I had not been preoccupied with CRL Effect stuff, I would have braved the heckling at my sub-par Cross ability, and joined a couple team-mates sucking in the dust at the back of that big ol' field.
Teams were encamped all up and down the lower half of the draw in which the races took place, large shade trees with open spaces dominated the bottom, enclosed by some low, but steep bluffs. The big pond was dry, as was a stream bed leading away from it, but one could easily imagine the locations of well-watered greens, fairways and sand pits. For some reason I imagined the scene as a re-creation of an early 1800s fur trapper rendezvous with little encampments running along a valley bottom, mounted riders racing back and forth in displays of bravado, and men clustered around campfires regaling listeners with tall tales filled with braggadocio. I listened in to a few and heard stories of cornering exploits, someones brilliant pass inside of a 180 degree turn, and the gaps, always the gaps that were opened up. One though, stood out far beyond any others for its "tallness;" apparently one racer, upon reaching the barriers hopped up and balanced a nose-wheelie on the first board. After precisely three seconds of that he forcefully spun into a tail whip, cleared the gap to the second board, balanced there on his rear wheel just long enough for the next nearest chaser to come into view, hopped off and up the hill before racing away.
Though I'm not sure I actually believe that one, it is in true tradition of rendezvous story-telling, and if anyone has a better one to tell I challenge you to let it be known. If not, keep in mind that I will have my ears open next weekend at MoValley.
Anyway, special thanks to Team Redlands for going the extra mile to present us with such a fun and entertaining course. Photos selected for the album can be accessed here.
Fortunately it was a long morning (and early afternoon) with plenty of time to circle the course, cutting across here and there while looking for the best vantage points, getting stabbed in the ankle by the dried stalk of some previous plant, and realizing just how nice a course had been laid out in this old golf course. I think if I had not been preoccupied with CRL Effect stuff, I would have braved the heckling at my sub-par Cross ability, and joined a couple team-mates sucking in the dust at the back of that big ol' field.
Teams were encamped all up and down the lower half of the draw in which the races took place, large shade trees with open spaces dominated the bottom, enclosed by some low, but steep bluffs. The big pond was dry, as was a stream bed leading away from it, but one could easily imagine the locations of well-watered greens, fairways and sand pits. For some reason I imagined the scene as a re-creation of an early 1800s fur trapper rendezvous with little encampments running along a valley bottom, mounted riders racing back and forth in displays of bravado, and men clustered around campfires regaling listeners with tall tales filled with braggadocio. I listened in to a few and heard stories of cornering exploits, someones brilliant pass inside of a 180 degree turn, and the gaps, always the gaps that were opened up. One though, stood out far beyond any others for its "tallness;" apparently one racer, upon reaching the barriers hopped up and balanced a nose-wheelie on the first board. After precisely three seconds of that he forcefully spun into a tail whip, cleared the gap to the second board, balanced there on his rear wheel just long enough for the next nearest chaser to come into view, hopped off and up the hill before racing away.
Though I'm not sure I actually believe that one, it is in true tradition of rendezvous story-telling, and if anyone has a better one to tell I challenge you to let it be known. If not, keep in mind that I will have my ears open next weekend at MoValley.
Anyway, special thanks to Team Redlands for going the extra mile to present us with such a fun and entertaining course. Photos selected for the album can be accessed here.
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