It fell over with a sickening thud. I was standing in the shade beside the corral. Had just arrived onsite. It was 4:45 pm. Immediately, a pair of friendly hands were there to help. Carmen and John (Lincoln, NE). Grew up downriver, just across the border, in Missouri. Went to Northwest Missouri State University (Go Bearcats!)

Met them at the route meeting two nights before. John lifted the bike and Carmen took my things as I quickly (and nervously) ran thru a check to make sure nothing was damaged. Minor adjustments had to be made. The seat had been knocked out of alignment. It had fallen on the right side. Was concerned the derailleur had bent again (repeat of 2 years ago). All was fine and we exchanged contact info this time.

Also on hand were Michelle and Kelly of Wichita. We had met at last year’s Gravel Worlds. Kelly and I teamed up the last half of the 150. How it goes when out there. Friendships are formed fast, out of necessity. Nowhere to hide. Kelly ran the 50K earlier in the day and would line up for the 150 in the morning. Michelle the 75 miler.

Carmen and John did the 50K gravel course on Saturday. They are still relatively new to the scene but early indications are they’re doing great. Everyone finished btw, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

It was time so I took my usual place at the back of the pack. Was good to see Andy (from Topeka) in the lineup. We’d met a couple of years before, after my first attempt at Long Voyage. He finished and I didn’t. That’s another story.

Don’t remember much more about those last few moments. Dan Hughes (Lawrence, KS) snapping photos and offering encouragement. Also exchanged a few words with Matt Gersib. Pirate, local legend and all around cool dude. He completed a Long Voyage back in ’21 and is onhand this year as a promoter of the event.

The temps were as expected, somewhere north of 90. It was also muggy although not unusually.

And we’re off. Neutral start, rolling the first couple miles on pavement before hitting gravel. I rode the first 15 miles as a shakeout the day before and was getting my “sea legs” back. It felt good but had no illusions. A lot of things had to go right and only one thing wrong. Had done the math. Knew my chances of making it thru the first night were good and on into the early afternoon of the next day. Wasn’t sure about what would happen after that. Getting into uncharted territory.

Caught up with Andy at the first stop (Weeping Willow mile 46) around 9pm. He’s on a single speed (as usual) and goes at a different pace. It wasn’t long before he got out ahead of me. I was creeping along in the darkness. Applying brakes on the descents. One careless moment, a bit of loose gravel and the ride would be over. Wasn’t quite ready to let ‘er rip.

It was many miles before I talked to another soul. Occasionally, a blinky light way off in the distance. I remained on course.

Had a funny encounter with a voice somewhere in the darkness. Was it just in my head? Just before crossing the toll bridge over the Missouri river into Iowa. “What’s your ETA back in Lincoln?”, it asked. “Late”, was my one word reply. There was something else, uttered unintelligibly, couldn’t quite make it out.

No matter. There was work to be done. Iowa can be a lonely place. It greeted us with loose and chunky gravel. Makes the going tough as you slip and slide along. Have to maintain momentum which requires more power. “This gravel is a friend”, was the mantra. Trust it don’t fight it. Let it go where it wants.

Lightning flashed to the south and west as eastern Nebraska got pelted by a front. Friend or foe? Too early to know.

After the first century was a stop at Jason Strohbehn’s childhood home, in Treynor, Iowa (mile 109), around 3am. Jason’s another organizer of Gravel Worlds.

My brother Kelly and I wandered into Lincoln five summers earlier. Looking for adventure. We got what we bargained for. The hospitality is what keeps us coming back. The heat is optional. Call it a bonus. A test of will. One of the best events in Gravel. A real sufferfest. Endless miles of twisty, hilly, sandy, chunky, gravel goodness. If you can ride these hills you can ride any.

I met Jason’s father Thursday evening, walking around the venue when surveying the starting line. A friendly guy. Like father, like son. They grow good humans in Iowa.

That stop was run by Jamie, who I had met at the course meeting Wednesday. He assured me then that he wasn’t leaving until the last rider passed thru. Gave us expert help, weather reports, advice, encouragement. There was also cold water, gatorade, cokes, ice, pizza. He’s married to Kristie Tracey, pro athlete. Last year she was struck by a car while training. Suffered devastating injuries including severe head trauma and compound fractures to bones in her leg. She’s battling back having successfully finished this year’s Long Voyage (way before me).

I met Kristie back in ’21 at the first Long Voyage stop. She had just pulled the plug due to a mechanical. What struck me at the time was her positivity. Took it in stride.

There were others at Treynor. It was perhaps a little too cozy. Didn’t want to leave. Some discussions over the storm and its bearing. I put on a rain jacket. Stowed spare batteries in ziplocks. A once over on the bike. Wet lubed the drivetrain. “Head north as fast as you can, might just miss it”, Jamie’s calm words of advice rang in my ears as I departed.

Not long afterward the rain came. I allowed a moment of self pity before checking it. This front is what’s going to get me across the finish line. It should draw much of the heat out of the atmosphere.

When I was overtaken by emotion. All of the things to be grateful for. A long list. I didn’t understand what was happening but realized something was guiding and powering me effortless thru the darkness. Truly a transcendent moment.

I really enjoy riding at night. It’s much cooler in the summer of course. It also brings back something of the child in me. Back when we would sneak out from backyard campouts. Meet other kids. Our parents of course were unaware. Long before technology, cell phones, trackers and surveillance. We’d wander the neighborhood. Chasing and running from dogs. Communion with the nocturnal animals. Wonderful memories brought back after having been long forgotten.

Soon it would be sunrise. A blessing and curse. Certainly, it’s inspiring as the surrounding countryside lights in amazing detail. Those hills we’re laboring over offer beautiful visas. It’s also when the adrenaline stops and fatigue sets in.

Next stop was Missouri Valley (mile 151). Refueled at a McDonald’s off the Interstate. It was 8 am and about half full. A few other riders were there. We smelled bad and probably looked like hell.

Once they knew what we were up to their suspicion turned into curiosity. “Are you the leaders?”, one youngster asked. “Naw, we’re pretty much last place”, Andy flatly replied.

And Then There Were Four
Nothing was said. We just ended up riding together the next 100 miles. The morning air provided a slight chill. Enough to consider putting my jacket back on. I decided not knowing the forecast called for temps to be in the 80’s. Nothing like the blistering triple digits a couple of days ago.

I pushed back thoughts of finishing. Keep the mind in the present. The next 50 miles were hilly. One wrong line away from a bad outcome.

Knew I was in the company of greatness but had no idea it was Johnny Gravel. A 68 year old veteran of these kinds of events. He was accompanied by Greg. At 62, no spring chicken either. He had completed a Long Voyage last year. The rains and mud had slowed him down and he missed the cutoff by a couple of minutes. They gave him a finish anyway (well of course the Pirates would) but there was unfinished business.

They hail from the Twin Cities. Greg had talked Johnny Gravel into it. Rounding out our group was Andy. Who as I said had completed Long Voyage in ’21 and last year.

l to r, Greg, Johnny, Andy

About when the temps started hiking up. It was probably in the low 80’s but as the sun bears down the road temps feel about 10 degrees warmer. By this time we were helped and cooled by the north wind that had just a touch of west in it.

Having fallen behind during the night, riding hills and unfavorable winds in Iowa, had to make good time in order to hit the cutoff. We worked together. Johnny was keeping an eye on it. At one point he announced our average went over 10mph. Now well into the third century, thoughts of a finish were allowed to creep in.

Mile 245 was a stop in Valparaiso. We had just lost site of Andy. I knew there was the checkpoint at mile 261 but this late in the day supplies can get low. We refueled and soon were off again.

Just before the checkpoint my electronic shifter malfunctioned. “Y’all go ahead. I’ll catch up”, I told them. Knew it was:

1. Derailleur battery dead
2. Shifter batteries dead
3. Other

Hoping it was #1. Had spares for the shifters too, but they’re a pain to replace. If it was #3, I’d be calling Don at Triple D City Car Service, Lincoln, NE. We agreed to a modest fee up front and he’d fish me out of whatever hole I fell into (on the course) if need be.

Don kept an eye on the tracker and texted messages of encouragement. Cool dude. If you’re ever in the Lincoln metro area, need a ride or SAG for an event, Don gets a strong endorsement.

It ended up being the derailleur battery and was replaced in a couple of minutes. Now caught up with Greg and Johnny again we could only speculate how far ahead of us Andy had gone.

Checkpoint

Mile 261 anxiety was building. We had fallen behind again due to the stops and now were back in the bubble. Darkness was setting in but had one more trick up my sleeve. A packet of Infinit Cold Brew snagged from the swag table during check-in on Thursday. Had been saving it for just this moment.

Loaded that into one of the bottles, mixed in some ice when Greg asked if I was ready to roll.

The last 40

Early on, Johnny and Greg were on my tail. Lost them over the next hill as I entered “The Zone”. Fatigue and pain were forgotten. The dim twilight illuminated the lines into a sharp focus. Concentration was absolute. After nightfall my eyes adjusted to the headlights and continued to bomb the downhills.

Holding the line can be difficult, especially at night. It was never in doubt. Again, that presence guided and protected as thoughts of my parents set in. We lost my father in 2015. My brothers and sisters all helped take care of him. We lost my mother during lockdown. She was in an assisted living center. We weren’t allowed in to see her until the very end. Huge regret over that period.

Felt like they were saying it was OK.

Caught up with Andy a few miles outside of Lincoln. My hearty greeting must’ve startled him. At the finish line my friends were there to help even though surely they were tired from the day’s events. It hadn’t been easy for the others. The storm from the previous night saturated the course with rain making it a muddy mess. Then the wait as Johnny and Greg finished Dead Fucking Last (DFL).

Could not have scripted it better. Luck, planning or divine intervention? Probably a little of one and a lot of the others.

Experiencing life changing perspectives. Doing what seemed impossible. Amends with the past. Makes the pain worthwhile.

This Long Voyage is over. The next begins.