Arkansaw High Country Race Day 3 / Waveland Campground to Rich Mountain / 99 miles

 

I rolled out of the campground at 4:30 a.m. knowing that the store at Rich Mountain would close at 6 p.m. I was aware that since this day's route was much more demanding, I’d have to push the pace to make it there by closing. With short stops for filling bottles, eating, and going to the bathroom I had managed to maintain a pace of roughly ten mph over gravel through the previous two days, but I knew the route would be much tougher today. After a ten-mile flat start the course steeply climbs a ridge comprised by Petit Jean and other mountains. This is a truly remote area and I saw several wild turkeys, which are normally very wily and people shy. Near the end of the first long hilly section near Kingdoodle Knob, a black object appeared at about 75 yards in the double track gravel road to my front. My initial thought was that a large dog sat in the road, but I was far from any houses. The moment my brain processed the word "bear" I braked and discerned that two small black bears were sitting in the road that I would have to traverse. Of course, my main concern was that classic problem that if there are small bears present, a large protective mama may be nearby. They seemed to be unaware of my presence as I took pictures from a distance. I eventually spoke up loudly and asked, “Well, are y’all just small and medium or is there a small, medium and large[1]?” They startled and ran into the woods along the south side of the road, and I waited about a minute to give them time to clear out before continuing to ride at a brisker pace. If you ever hear anyone wonder if there really are bears in Arkansas, you can tell them that there certainly are.

 

   

The road kicked up again after crossing Highway 71 at the 40-mile point to ascend into the rugged Poteau Mountain Wilderness. Late morning temperatures were creeping up into the 90’s and my water was running low, so cued by a tip from High Country race veteran Tracy Wilkins and guided by the Bicycle Navigator app, I found a spring at an informal campsite just off the course where I refilled my camelback. The water looked and smelled pure, but I dropped a couple of water purification tablets in the 2-liter bladder just to be safe. The big task of the day, riding up and over Poteau Mountain was an agonizingly slow slog (including a great deal of hike-a-bike) up steep, loose, chunky gravel while competing with people on ATV’s and car-sized buggies for space on the double-track road. Being Saturday, folks were out recreating and I’m sure they were as puzzled by my decision to bust my hump climbing a mountain motorless as I was by their choice to experience pristine nature while sitting on top of something that sounded like it was powered by a jet engine. My bike computer tells me that my cresting the top of the mountain coincided with the temperature hitting 100 degrees Fahrenheit, a 50-degree increase over what I had woken up with.

The descent down the south face of Poteau Mountain was steep and treacherous. My brakes, Paul Klamper mechanical disc brakes, are a great improvement over what I had last summer, and I was thankful for their power, modulation, adjustability, and dependability under load in adverse conditions. After getting off the mountain I still had over thirty miles of gradual uphill to reach Rich Mountain, and the road surface was dreadfully bad.

I arrived at the Rich Mountain store a half hour after they had closed and I was dreading the prospect of riding/hiking another brutally steep hill to the Queen Wilhelmina State Park. The owner, Steve, saw me taking a break in the shade of his front porch, opened the store and let me come in and buy a few things. Steve is part Santa Claus and part retired Grateful Dead roadie. He has an ample beard and long white hair spilling over his shoulders gathered by reading glasses around his neck. He has plenty of experience with High Country racers in desperate need of support and he was kind, helpful and personable. I had tentatively arranged to camp in his RV camp behind the store and he showed me a large pavilion where I could sleep and have shelter. While showing me around he said, “If you’re not too intent on roughin’ it, you can sleep in the cabin.” 

Steve's cabin

I was grateful for his unsolicited generosity. My legs were aching from what was, up to that point, my toughest day (on top of two other fairly challenging days), but I was happy to have Poteau Mountain in my rear-view mirror. I was hungry and a little dehydrated and didn’t get a good meal that night, but I did get a hot shower, was able to recharge all my devices and batteries, hand wash and dry my cycling clothes, and get several solid hours of sleep on a trundle bed.  

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[1] Nearly three days of relative isolation and hard effort were already making me a little goofy.