Breck Epic - Six Day Stage Race - USA!

Breck Epic - Six Day Mountian Bike Stage Race - Breckenridge Colorado, USA.

The Breck Epic, a six-day mountain bike stage race in Breckenridge, Colorado, has a quirky, laid-back vibe. But don’t be fooled, behind the relaxed atmosphere lies an incredibly tough event and one that’s impressively well organised. Two aging Kiwi riders took on the Duo 100 category, where the combined team age tops 100 years and both riders must stay within two minutes of each other throughout the race.

Breckenridge town is two hours from Denver via a shuttle. The only odd thing about the journey there is after about 30kms of flat highway you climb, your ears pop, and you begin to feel dizzy. Breckenridge is a ski and mountain bike mecca, but as you've guessed it's 3,000m closer to the sun than the coast. The saying goes it's like breathing through a straw at that altitude, and thats in town! The locals say the oxygen levels are around 70% at sea level, and that hurts. For the under prepared the Rockies range that formed the 6 day courses backbone should have been more of a clue to what we'd be riding on. Everything is hyperbole in the US, except how rocky the Rockies actually are!

Arriving three days before the race began was the perfect amount of time. Acclimatization is key, the negative symptoms varied across the team. From headaches, mild nausea, to trouble sleeping. Those intermittent symptoms didn't stop us exploring the trails and taking in a few sections of the race stages. We were impressed, it was like Rotorua had a muscular big brother with a bad attitude. There was single track galor, some of which was old mining tracks or waterways, and some doubled as cross country ski routes. This place was awesome.

Day one nerves were high. There were shifty looks as we eyed up the preymantuse looking opposition on the start line. Stage one was an awesome 58kms course of predominantly single track climbs and downhill. The downhill runs that made us feel 30 years younger. The ensuing few days were largely carbon copies of unlrelenting single track and uber fun steep single track downhills. Day three featured an 8 kms downhill section that picked it's way through rocks the size of microwaves and was covered in thick tree root drop-offs. All designed by nature to tip you off your bike in a split second. This race did not want to be conquered. Needless to say it claimed plenty of victims, the pre race briefing not putting the fear of God into most participants it seemed. The trauma tent looked more and more like a war scene as the stages wore on.

The jewel in the crown of the Breck Epic in its 17 year history has always been the infamouns stage five. The Wheeler Pass stage (read on to get the pun). Climbing to around 3,900m in altitude it didn't sound like much. But it was pretty much straight up from the town center. It was also on day 5 after 4 serious days in legs. About half way up the climb either the lack of oxygen, the steepness, or the large rocks caused everyone to walk. It looked like the world's unhappiest congo line snaking up the mountain. The dry talcomb powder like ground was peppered with blobs of sweat, like diesel engines leaking oil as riders scrolled up this terrible monster. Reaching the top was hard. Coming down the other side harder, adding to the nightly carnage in the trauma tent. I still don't know how the bikes stayed together as the hallow carbon frames endlessly echoed worrying sounding rock strikes.  Daily post stage bike clean revealled wheels that progressively looked like a cheese grater had attacked them and warped brake rotors from the heat.

As seasoned mountain bike stage racers we were use to the mental and physical fatigue that crept in. Even that couldn't dampen the pure magic that is the Breck. Riding six stages that loop you back into town every day, staying in an off season ski chalet, and waking to clear blue skies and 25 degree temps every day was magic. Catching the free gondola back into town at the end of stage 4, both a necessity and a non bike highlight. This race had it all. With track names like Vomit Hill, Mount Gawdamit, and Good Times you get the love/hate relationship that grew across every stage. 

The finishers medal is a belt buckle. All in the vein of the miners who once dominated the rugged terrain. Stamped on the back of the buckle are the words "Bad Mother Fu*ker".

Enough said.