The good kind of mistake

Sometimes it's best if you don't know what you've signed up for...

There’s a gravel/mountain bike race in Alabama called Skyway Epic, and the “epic” part of the name is not an exaggeration. The long version is 100 miles – 50 miles out to almost the highest point in the state and then 50 miles back, with 12 miles of singletrack at the beginning and end. And most of the road between the singletrack sections is on the Skyway Motorway, probably the most misleading road name in the South. If you’re thinking it’s a smooth, scenic drive in the mountains, you’re only half right. It’s now an unmaintained Jeep trail that was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s. It’s the Dollar General store-brand version of the Blue Ridge Parkway.

I’ve always wanted to ride on the Skyway, but it’s so rough it’s best suited for a mountain bike (which I don’t have) or a gravel bike but only if you have excellent mountain bike skills (and I definitely don’t have the latter.)

Last weekend, my friend Greg Caldwell and I were going to ride gravel from OGG, Oldfield Green Gable, a cycling gathering place near Sylacauga where a group was getting together to ride gravel or mountain bike trails. I had a previous route downloaded that was all gravel and included a nice 13-mile loop that you could repeat to make the ride as long as you want.

When we started, my route took us to a short section of singletrack and doubletrack through the woods. No problem: we’ll pick up the gravel loop eventually.

After coming out of the woods we began a long gravel climb that I didn’t recall riding before. “This is the beginning of Skyway,” Greg told me. But at the top of the climb, we turned onto pavement and began descending. Definitely not Skyway anymore. After a couple of miles, we pulled over to figure out the route. It definitely wasn’t one either of us had done. But we were both game to explore.

We left the pavement and were on Horns Valley Road, a beautiful rolling gravel road tucked between the Talladega National Forest and farmland. And then we turned on to the Skyway Motorway and began climbing. At the top of the first short climb, Greg recognized it as the turnaround point for the 60-mile version of Skyway Epic. Our only options were to retrace our steps or finish out the route, including another 13 miles of Skyway.

The night before the ride, when we were considering route options, I had wondered about riding a little of Skyway. Greg said that getting to Skyway was one long climb but that Skyway on a gravel bike would be “zero fun sir,” to quote “Remember the Titans.”

Man was he right. To be fair there were some beautiful stretches of gravel, with views of the fall leaves in the valley that looked like a grandmother’s quilt draped over your knees. But the climbs and descents were a different matter.

There were long stretches of exposed rock where I couldn’t go any faster downhill than I did going up. Some parts we just had to walk. On long descents I was on the brakes constantly, to the point my hands hurt.

My rear tire began to leak and wouldn’t seal, but we added air every five or 10 miles and I was optimistic it would finally seal. But that wasn’t the biggest problem. The route I had intended to use was a lot faster – we could be done in less than four hours – and I had only brought two bottles figuring that it was a cool day and worst case we could head back to the Gable to resupply.

On the Skyway there was nowhere to resupply, and I was running out of water. So thank you to the guy I stopped in the Jeep Cherokee who gave me two cold bottles.

A little over five hours later, we were back at the Gable, where the group was beginning to wonder if they should start looking for us. It turned out one of them, Bo Bozeman, had created the route we used but had never verified it, as he always does before sharing them. I have no idea how I found it. In my defense, the intended route and the one we rode were both exactly 55.5 miles, started with “OGG” and were vaguely shaped the same. That afternoon Bo took “gravel” out of the name and put “mountain bike” in so no one else will make the same mistake.

But isn’t that the best kind of mistake? Trying something you believe might be beyond your ability but without having any of the doubt and anxiety in advance?

This was classic Type 2 fun: not fun while you’re doing it, but fun in retrospect. And maybe the best Type 2 fun is born from a mistake. The line between Type 2 and Type 3 – miserable in the moment and not even fun in retrospect – can be very thin. In fact, you can’t know which it is until you’ve finished. Most people aren’t going to knowingly choose “zero fun sir” adventures.

I’m glad we did it, and while I said I won’t do something like that again, now I’m not so sure. Maybe the best Type 2 fun starts out with the acknowledgement it will be “zero fun sir.” Whether it turns out to be Type 2 or Type 3 depends on your attitude.

The ride: Greg said Skyway would be “zero fun sir” on a gravel bike and he was right.

The routes

Actual: OGG Dega Clay 55.5mi MTB Route

Intended: OGG no singletrack