La Ruta de Conquistadors is a phenomenally difficult MTB Stage Race held annually in Costa Rica. In 2007, Stuart Spies was there with a troupe of racing mates. With the date set for November 2-5 in 2011, perhaps Spies’ indepth recollection of the race may tempt you to organise flights and an entry.
“What a race! I’ve been wanting to do this thing for two and a half years. You start hearing about it at Mountain Bike Stage races with a certain measure of respect and fear from riders contemplating it. It was a changed format this year, in previous years racers faced a 150km opening stage that literally wiped out half the field, so in some respects we had it easy, 4 days 356km and 11500 metres of climbing…they do mention the mud. But nothing my Maxxis Medusa’s cant handle, surely!?
Day One
I’m there! I have made it, I am finally a mountain biker. Two rows in front of me is Thomas Dietsch, currently 1st on the UCI XC rankings, Sandro Spaeth who took 2nd at Transalp 2006, Andreas Hestler Canadian Olympian, legend Tinker Juarez, Federico Ramirez previous winner and Paolo Montoya who took 3rd in the U23 World Championships, their combined medal tally is like notches on a Messerschmitt . They are the Stage Race Maestro’s! Its 4 in the morning, I’ve spent 3 days soaking up the sunshine in Jaco with my partners in crime Charlie Eustace, Liz Ward, Garry Christopher, Kerrie Noonan, Matt Kemp, Vik Chaudhuri, Eelco Doctor and of course poor Simon Turner who thanks to a back operation was a non-starter. However he proved rather useful in organising us and laughing at our folly.
Right, so its big fireworks display (Battersea Park eat your heart out), and a multi lingual run down of the impending doom, I keep trying to block out yesterdays promo video that ended with a Canadian saying ‘ something something, RELENTLESS SUFFERING…ay’ and we’re off!! CHAAAAAAARGE, the outriders have the masses controlled nicely as we speed through the town of Jaco on the west coast of Costa Rica. Before us lays 95km , 4420m of elevation and 100% humidity. We hit the first gravel road, I move behind the Maestro’s, this is all so easy …oh wait hang on here comes the climb, BOOOM they’re off….jeez!??
We had done a burn the day before my head wanted to explode from the heat. I decided I best work really hard on holding myself back come race time. This tactic was going great until I fell in the first river crossing 20km in and cramped! What the hell?!? Survival would be the order of the day. Eelco proved a great pacing partner and I jumped on his wheel as he passed me. We spent the next few miles negotiating our way through some super slippery crater filled death traps, and over the lumpy climbs that actually offered a nice respite from the trips over the handle bars.
The mud was getting tedious. After roughly 38km of the goo, Eelco seemed tired of my ‘F&*KING F&*K!’ outbursts every 2 seconds so I decided to concentrate harder and grit the teeth. I hadn’t got the handle on the tyre pressures and was slipping all over the place, but finally we hit some hardpack. By km 50 we looked like we had been dragged over the course backwards but my legs were feeling happier and my little defining moment of the spirit of the race was around the corner. You enter a ride-able river as you come around a bend supporters are there yelling encouragement. As you exit a local is holding a squeezy ketchup bottle filled with oil and sets about spraying it on chains, what a champion! The locals (Tico’s) generally hose you down in the heat, yell at you on the climbs and think its hilarious when their mangy mutts run in front of you on a mineshaft descent. Basically they’re great, they have a horde of lycra clad nutjobs racing through their towns and really could not have been more tolerant.
Back to the race, my second wind kicks in, the tar of the last climb has started and I’m a reasonably happy man, Eelco took a bit of strain on the last major climb and said I should roll at my own pace, he went on to smash an hour into me by day 4 so my guilt was short lived. I rode the last climb like it was the last climb of the year and after losing my computer in the sludge I was relying on the Tico’s to relay how far to the finish…never rely on a person with a beer in his hand ‘one km to go’….20mins of slog passes….’one km to go’…another 20mins…’one..’ IF YOU SAY 1KM I WILL RAM MY PUMP UP YOUR NOSE HOW FAR!!?’ clearly I was having a hard time in the last…er…40km??
Finally I see the finish, as a last laugh riders have to negotiate a big mudpit that sucks the last energy out of you, I cross the line seeing stars and after realising to my horror the table filled with fruits and recovery drinks was obviously a mirage I sit down in the middle of the information booth and demand food. They called the paramedics. After a quick systems check I’m fed some cups of super sugar and Eelco arrives in time to laugh at me, cheers mate!
What a day, I was shattered, the boys started to arrive each looking a little shell shocked, Liz getting a big cheer as she sprinted the last stretch to pip an American chap to the line and claiming 8th lady, incredible! We wait anxiously for Kerrie to arrive shaking our heads like old sages agreeing that this may prove too big a race for a first timer when we get greeted by the beaming Australian who obviously must have taken a short cut, awesome ride Kezza!”
We will continue with Stuarts story over the coming days – make sure you check back.