This is my story from the @texasshowdownseries WTS race—an ultra-distance MTB race where both Gerardo and I raced on gravel bikes. Patrick did warn everyone that an MTB was probably the best tool for it, but since neither of us had mountain bikes and I had just gotten a new Lauf Seigla for Unbound XL, I figured I’d give it a go. This was the inaugural edition of the race.
The race started with an easy 10-mile road section. There were three of us at the front on gravel bikes; the rest of the group was on mountain bikes. Gerardo and I got to the front, and spirits were high. We built a nice gap.
We stopped and lowered tire pressure at the entrance to Big Bend Ranch State Park, then kept riding on the singletrack. One of the guys mentioned that he’d averaged 20+ mph at Unbound XL 350. Strong dude. Unfortunately for him, he was on a gravel bike with no suspension, and about 5 miles in, he destroyed his rear derailleur. He was out. Now it was just the two of us on gravel bikes.
I made a wrong turn, and several people passed me. The chase was on. The riding was tough but not super bad. Here and there we had to dismount and walk, but we were mostly riding uphill.
The first rest stop was around mile 40, and we made it there with Gerardo a few minutes behind Kyle and one other guy on an MTB. Gerardo grabbed a few bandages for his blisters, filled up on water, and kept going. He was riding very strong, but the terrain with clip-in shoes and carbon soles was unforgiving.
We missed a turn and ended up having to backtrack 5 miles. Soon the road became very rough, and Gerardo got a bit disconnected as I was trying to make up ground. The descent to River Road (170) was scenic but pretty insane—I’d barely call it a hiking trail.
I was greeted by a nice photographer on Road 170, which follows the Rio Grande, and kept going until the next turn back into the park for the second checkpoint at mile 100. I found the guy on an MTB who had been in 2nd place pretty cracked at the water station. I bummed a gel from him, filled up on water, and kept chasing Kyle.
After a fairly easy singletrack section, the road started to meander uphill through dry arroyos. I found Kyle trying to take a nap and a bit shaken up from seeing a mountain lion. I told him not to worry—“I’m a bigger animal. I’ll protect you! Let’s get to the checkpoint where the burgers are waiting.” It wasn’t far—maybe 10–15 miles—but it was uphill and required lots of hike-a-bike from both of us.
I got to the checkpoint first, ate two burgers, filled up, and just as I was about to leave, Kyle showed up. He was pretty tired, and I knew the next section was all downhill. I figured it couldn’t be that bad, so I kept going.
It was the right decision. The gravel road out of the park was pretty nice. However, Patrick had added another half-loop on the way to Marfa: Black Hills. Probably the worst section yet. It was unrideable on a gravel bike—rocks, impassable thorny bushes that would cut you. I found a section of grass that was devoid of ants and snakes, set the alarm for 30 minutes, and passed out. I woke up 2 minutes before the alarm went off, shivering from the cold. Got up and kept going. It took me probably 10 hours to hike-a-bike through that small 20-mile section, and I was running low on water.
Getting to the nice gravel road and later to the pavement felt amazing. I still didn’t have reception and had no idea where everyone was, except that I knew I was leading the race.
I got reception in Marfa and was surprised Kyle was only 1.5 hours behind me. He must have blasted through the Black Hills. Still, it was a 90-minute gap, so I took it easy on the next section. Later I found out his tracker wasn’t updating and he was much closer.
He caught me at the bottom of Pinto Canyon Road, and I was pretty surprised. We now had a 30-mile paved section back to the park and then a 20-mile gravel climb. He said he’d slept for 5 hours. I was shocked—he must have been flying through all the sections where I was walking.
Kyle started to push the pace on the road section back to the park while I was getting my burrito. The race was on. I caught up to him and pushed the pace myself even harder on the tailwind road section. I immediately got a gap on him, and looking back, I couldn’t see his light anymore. I figured I would need that buffer on the 20-mile climb—there’s around 50 pounds difference in weight between us.
I skipped the Presidio stop and started climbing on what looked like a straight, endless gravel runway—super wide and straight up. I figured all I needed to do was get to the top, and then it would be all downhill from there. Nobody has yet to beat a 200-pound dude downhill.
Man, was I wrong about that. I got to the top of the climb first and started going down the hill back to 170, but what I had in mind as a nice downhill turned into another insane hike-a-bike—barely rideable on a gravel bike. Kyle caught up to me, blasted down the hill past me, and up the next section. All I could do was yell at him as he passed: “Man, you sure do go faster than me!”
At this point, I knew my race was over. I leaned on some rocks and tried to rest a bit. No point pushing it anymore—no way I could ride this section.
The temperature dropped to 43°F, and sleeping on the ground was out of the question. I tried sitting on the bike and kept waking myself up by bracing with one leg as I started falling. We were pushing past 44 hours at this point.
Some of the rocks started to take the shape of weird man-made objects. I don’t remember exactly what they were, but they for sure didn’t belong in the desert. I started collecting what looked like desert hay to keep myself warm—insane idea. I wrapped my base layer around my head to stop heat from escaping.
Hallucinations were in full force. I started seeing people looking at me from behind the bushes. I saw what looked like a couple camping next to me—I was 100% sure they were real. They were not. There was nobody around. The gravel started to look inverted; the texture resembled porous marine rock. I was a walking frozen zombie waiting for the sun to rise and thaw me.
The sun did rise, but the route kept getting crazier and crazier. There was no more path—I was walking in the middle of the desert following the GPS, questioning my sanity. Dodging thorny bushes, climbing steep grades, crossing dry arroyos. Every now and then I’d see a bike track, so I knew I was on the right path.
I kept walking, and it was around 2 p.m. I ran out of water, looked at the GPS, and it said another 15 miles to the next checkpoint. It was hot. My phone had died at night, so I wasn’t exactly sure where I was. But I knew walking another 15 miles without water in the heat could end badly. I pressed the SMS button on the tracker. There was just one button and no way to communicate that I’d run out of water.
Luckily, the trail became more rideable, and I was able to ride the next 15 miles to the water stop. I found some people close to the trailhead who gave me water. Filled up and kept going. Got to the Lajitas Grocery Store, bought some food, and was riding on the road. Felt great!
In the next 5 miles, the WTS crew found me as I was passing one of the park entrances. I told them I wanted to keep riding—at least 5 times—but they said because people were looking for me, I had to stay there and my race was over. This back-and-forth lasted about a minute, and I agreed to get into the car. I figured I’d definitely had my fun, was still in second place, and was the only person still out there on a gravel bike. Good enough for the first run!
I’ll definitely be back next year, but this time on a proper MTB. I would not recommend this route on a gravel bike to my worst enemy. I walked over a marathon—maybe more—with my bike over those 50-something hours.