L.A. TOURIST:
Trans San Gabriel’s
Words by Sean Geivett @slow_leak
Photos by Sean Geivett @slow_leak and Stephanie Ortega @stepho_
For the better part of the last decade, Mike from Let’s Ride Cycles has been organizing one-day checkpoint adventure races in the Angeles National Forest, located north of Los Angeles. These events attract a diverse crowd, ranging from race-ready fighter pilots to more laid-back riders seeking an engaging story.
L.A. TOURIST:
Trans San Gabriel’s
Words by Sean Geivett @slow_leak
Photos by Stephanie Ortega @stepho_
For the better part of the last decade, Mike from Let’s Ride Cycles has been organizing one-day checkpoint adventure races in the Angeles National Forest, located north of Los Angeles. These events attract a diverse crowd, ranging from race-ready fighter pilots to more laid-back riders seeking an engaging story.
These events attract a diverse crowd, ranging from race-ready fighter pilots to more laid-back riders seeking an engaging story. Typically, participants enjoy a choose-your-own-adventure format with mandatory checkpoints, allowing them to reach those checkpoints in any manner they prefer. Last year, they introduced a new event with a diff erent focus: the Trans San Gabriel’s, designed as an Ultra distance race featuring a fixed route and a strict 35-hour cutoff. In its inaugural year, the race faced extreme weather in the mountains, resulting in only a few finishers. This year, another type of extreme weather impacted the planned route. Just two weeks before the race was set to begin, the Bridge Fire swept across 50,000 acres in the east fork area of the San Gabriel’s, aff ecting parts of the original course. Consequently, the decision was made to reschedule the event and significantly alter the route. As fall approached, the likelihood of inclement weather, similar to the previous year, increased.
On Saturday morning, riders began to arrive at the meetup at Let’s Ride Cycles in Burbank. With a fantastic weather forecast, the atmosphere was cheerful and laid-back. Participants enjoyed their coff ee while sharing tales of the past year’s race and sneaking glimpses of what everyone was packing for their adventure. Some were packed to the gills, appearing ready for a week-long tour, while others looked like they were just going for a casual coff ee ride with the mates, their bikes stripped down and aero socks pulled up. My setup fell somewhere in between; with no intentions of sleeping on the 365km route, I traveled light—just a top tube bag with essentials and a matching half-frame bag stuff ed with CARBS sachets. The morning was brisk, but I expected it to warm up as we ascended. I chose a pair of Ultra Climbers Bibs to sit on for the next 24 hours and an Ultra Long Sleeve Jersey for some protection as we climbed closer to the sun and a bit of warmth when it cools down in the evening. Amid a crowd of gravel bikes, my Santa Cruz Highball stood out. Recalling the very few times I’ve ridden in these mountains, the 7,500 meters were not going to come easy. Hoping that having a little more cushion for the pushing would prove beneficial in the long run.
These events attract a diverse crowd, ranging from race-ready fi ghter pilots to more laid-back riders seeking an engaging story. Typically, participants enjoy a choose-your-own-adventure format with mandatory checkpoints, allowing them to reach those checkpoints in any manner they prefer. Last year, they introduced a new event with a diff erent focus: the Trans San Gabriel’s, designed as an Ultra distance race featuring a fi xed route and a strict 35-hour cutoff . In its inaugural year, the race faced extreme weather in the mountains, resulting in only a few fi nishers. This year, another type of extreme weather impacted the planned route. Just two weeks before the race was set to begin, the Bridge Fire swept across 50,000 acres in the east fork area of the San Gabriel’s, aff ecting parts of the original course. Consequently, the decision was made to reschedule the event and signifi cantly alter the route. As fall approached, the likelihood of inclement weather, similar to the previous year, increased.
On Saturday morning, riders began to arrive at the meetup at Let’s Ride Cycles in Burbank. With a fantastic weather forecast, the atmosphere was cheerful and laid-back. Participants enjoyed their coff ee while sharing tales of the past year’s race and sneaking glimpses of what everyone was packing for their adventure. Some were packed to the gills, appearing ready for a week-long tour, while others looked like they were just going for a casual coff ee ride with the mates, their bikes stripped down and aero socks pulled up. My setup fell somewhere in between; with no intentions of sleeping on the 365km route, I traveled light—just a top tube bag with essentials and a matching half-frame bag stuff ed with CARBS sachets. The morning was brisk, but I expected it to warm up as we ascended. I chose a pair of Ultra Climbers Bibs to sit on for the next 24 hours and an Ultra Long Sleeve Jersey for some protection as we climbed closer to the sun and a bit of warmth when it cools down in the evening. Amid a crowd of gravel bikes, my Santa Cruz Highball stood out. Recalling the very few times I’ve ridden in these mountains, the 7,500 meters were not going to come easy. Hoping that having a little more cushion for the pushing would prove benefi cial in the long run.
Severely outgeared by the rolluers on gravel bikes, we glided ( i spun) through the city streets for the initial 50 kilometers of our route. I didn’t have a clear strategy for this ride, but to enjoy a free ride to the mountains, I needed to stay with the leading pack. The fi rst dirt section, Van Tassel to Redbox, begins with a challenging 3 kilometers of 15% grade fi re road. As we tackled this stretch, the group broke apart into a long, single fi le. Many of us were likely questioning our choice to spend the weekend this way. During travel to LA, my derailleur hanger took a bit of a hit, and after my chain slipped behind the cassette a few times, I realized I needed to pause and check my bike. Fortunately, I always carry a spare derailleur hanger. After a quick fi x and a snack, we were back on track, fi nally enjoying smooth shifting. At the summit of the 38-kilometer climb, we were welcomed by a water source to hydrate our parched lips. A thrilling descent down the Angeles Crest Highway provided a moment to regroup, stretch, and prepare for the challenges ahead.
Severely outgeared by the rolluers on gravel bikes, we glided ( i spun) through the city streets for the initial 50 kilometers of our route. I didn’t have a clear strategy for this ride, but to enjoy a free ride to the mountains, I needed to stay with the leading pack. The fi rst dirt section, Van Tassel to Redbox, begins with a challenging 3 kilometers of 15% grade fi re road. As we tackled this stretch, the group broke apart into a long, single fi le. Many of us were likely questioning our choice to spend the weekend this way. During travel to LA, my derailleur hanger took a bit of a hit, and after my chain slipped behind the cassette a few times, I realized I needed to pause and check my bike. Fortunately, I always carry a spare derailleur hanger. After a quick fi x and a snack, we were back on track, fi nally enjoying smooth shifting. At the summit of the 38-kilometer climb, we were welcomed by a water source to hydrate our parched lips. A thrilling descent down the Angeles Crest Highway provided a moment to regroup, stretch, and prepare for the challenges ahead.
After 5 hours and 30 minutes into the race, I approached the sharp turn back into the grit. Fall Creek→ Pacifi co Mountain was next on the agenda. This part of the route would turn out to be the most challenging for me. Ahead lay 40 kilometers and 1,750 meters to reach Checkpoint 1. What began as an exhilarating stretch of classic Southern California mountain single track would soon transform into something... a bit slower. At the bottom of the canyon, the trail wound steeply upward through extremely overgrown terrain. In the Chaparral, everything is defensive. The path was fl anked by robust manzanita and mountain mahogany that wouldn’t merely let you pass. Thankfully, I had my walking shoes. Whenever there was a brief opportunity for a few pedal strokes, my tires sank into loose sand, which at a gradient of 10-15% was hardly a refreshing experience. Finding comfort in the fact that everyone faced this diffi cult section kept me motivated. Plus! What’s an adventure without a little hike-a-bike?!
Eventually, Fall Creek transitions into North Fork Mill Creek Road, which opens up signifi cantly. I spotted a rider just around the next bend, exactly what I needed to lift my spirits. However, just as quickly as my mood soared, a sharp rock appeared out of nowhere, sending sealant fl ying and leaving a substantial gash in the sidewall of my tire. No Dynaplug was going to remedy that! I was ready for this setback—perhaps not mentally, but at least I had the tools necessary to tackle the problem. After spending a few moments cursing the earth and wiping sealant off my face, I managed to boot the tire, and once again, we were back on the move.
As I neared the summit of the intermediate climb, the sun began to slip behind the mountains, painting the sky in a golden glow. I soaked up those last rays like a sponge, welcoming the cooler temps and fresh vibes. Time to clock in for the Night Shift™! A quick refi ll at a fi re station’s water spigot, and I was off , charging toward Pacifi co Mt. The prospect of a 40km descent leading to a guaranteed resupply in Palmdale made the journey feel eff ortless. I thought the fi rst checkpoint was back at that fi re station, but surprise! As I rolled up to MT Pacifi co, I was greeted by laughter and the sounds of a good time. One of the organizers, Stephanie, along with a group of enthusiastic volunteers, greeted racers at the summit with pickles, cheers, and encouragement. It was the perfect opportunity to smile, zip up my jersey, and put on a windbreaker for the long descent ahead.
The descent into Palmdale was a sweet reward for all the day’s challenges. Night riding is pure magic. You can practically taste the speed when your eyes are as big as saucers, glued to the glowing path ahead. I was on a good one, and Little Rock Canyon really delivered.
After 5 hours and 30 minutes into the race, I approached the sharp turn back into the grit. Fall Creek→ Pacifi co Mountain was next on the agenda. This part of the route would turn out to be the most challenging for me. Ahead lay 40 kilometers and 1,750 meters to reach Checkpoint 1. What began as an exhilarating stretch of classic Southern California mountain single track would soon transform into something... a bit slower. At the bottom of the canyon, the trail wound steeply upward through extremely overgrown terrain. In the Chaparral, everything is defensive. The path was fl anked by robust manzanita and mountain mahogany that wouldn’t merely let you pass. Thankfully, I had my walking shoes. Whenever there was a brief opportunity for a few pedal strokes, my tires sank into loose sand, which at a gradient of 10-15% was hardly a refreshing experience. Finding comfort in the fact that everyone faced this diffi cult section kept me motivated. Plus! What’s an adventure without a little hike-a-bike?!
Eventually, Fall Creek transitions into North Fork Mill Creek Road, which opens up signifi cantly. I spotted a rider just around the next bend, exactly what I needed to lift my spirits. However, just as quickly as my mood soared, a sharp rock appeared out of nowhere, sending sealant fl ying and leaving a substantial gash in the sidewall of my tire. No Dynaplug was going to remedy that! I was ready for this setback—perhaps not mentally, but at least I had the tools necessary to tackle the problem. After spending a few moments cursing the earth and wiping sealant off my face, I managed to boot the tire, and once again, we were back on the move.
As I neared the summit of the intermediate climb, the sun began to slip behind the mountains, painting the sky in a golden glow. I soaked up those last rays like a sponge, welcoming the cooler temps and fresh vibes. Time to clock in for the Night Shift™! A quick refi ll at a fi re station’s water spigot, and I was off , charging toward Pacifi co Mt. The prospect of a 40km descent leading to a guaranteed resupply in Palmdale made the journey feel eff ortless. I thought the fi rst checkpoint was back at that fi re station, but surprise! As I rolled up to MT Pacifi co, I was greeted by laughter and the sounds of a good time. One of the organizers, Stephanie, along with a group of enthusiastic volunteers, greeted racers at the summit with pickles, cheers, and encouragement. It was the perfect opportunity to smile, zip up my jersey, and put on a windbreaker for the long descent ahead.
The descent into Palmdale was a sweet reward for all the day’s challenges. Night riding is pure magic. You can practically taste the speed when your eyes are as big as saucers, glued to the glowing path ahead. I was on a good one, and Little Rock Canyon really delivered.
To the right, Little Rock Reservoir marked the end of my adventure in the wilderness, at least for the time being. I transitioned back into civilization, hitting tarmac for the next few kilometers as I approached the fi rst store since entering the mountains earlier that morning.
This store also indicated the midpoint of the race—180 kilometers and 4,300 meters in. I quickly stopped in to grab a few cold caff einated drinks. With a moment of cellular service, I took a peek at the tracker. To my astonishment, I found myself in 5th place, a surprise considering all of the riders that had passed me as I dealt with mechanicals throughout the morning. I also noticed that the riders in 3rd and 4th place were both situated in Palmdale, the city i was in. I chose to make my stop brief and take advantage of this fourth wind I was experiencing. At this stage in the race, with 180 kilometers still remaining, the top ten were all within an hour or two of one another, which is incredibly close in this type of race.
Fast forward two and a half hours to the Leona Divide Fire Road, just after midnight. The twisting dirt path sometimes kept me alert with sections of Manzanita-laden singletrack. Glancing back into the darkness, the only visible sights besides the stars were the headlights of two riders chasing closely behind me. I felt confi dent I had a few kilometers and some time separating us, thanks to the climbs and descents I had just tackled. Yet, an undeniable urgency coursed through me; it felt as if I were being hunted.
Checkpoint two was situated just a short distance along the trail. Once more, I was welcomed by a stokers as I arrived at the hangout, having a smile and a cola. One of the volunteers shared some valuable information: the rider ahead had just departed the checkpoint 15 minutes earlier. At this stage in the ride, claiming fi rst place seemed unlikely, but second place was defi nitely within reach just up the road. Another thought that kept crossing my mind was that the two riders just behind me were on gravel bikes. This gave me an edge on the descents, but once we returned to the tarmac heading back to Burbank, they would have a signifi cant gear ratio advantage. Part of me wanted to catch up to the homie ahead of me, a fellow flat bar enjoyer, not only to squeeze into second but also to alert him about this tough reality.
For the next four hours, I pushed into the darkness in pursuit of Adam. Unfortunately, He was riding at too steady a pace, and I was running out of gas. The trails were eerie and quiet, and coming across fresh bear tracks layered over tire marks at 5 AM is undeniably a experience i could have done without. A few times, I scared myself just thinking about all the candy and sticky shit I had in my pockets—defi nitely a tempting snack for a cuddly black bear. With 115 km still ahead and 25 km left until the tarmac, I faced the tough decision to pause my pursuit for second place and take a moment to lay down. I just knew I couldn’t sustain. I slowly made my way to the top of the last 700m+ climb, curled up in a ball, spotted a shooting star, and took about an hour-long nap. When i woke up rough and crusty eyed I found myself still in third place, but the hour-and-a-half lead I had on the two behind me had shrunk to just about 25 minutes.
To the right, Little Rock Reservoir marked the end of my adventure in the wilderness, at least for the time being. I transitioned back into civilization, hitting tarmac for the next few kilometers as I approached the fi rst store since entering the mountains earlier that morning.
This store also indicated the midpoint of the race—180 kilometers and 4,300 meters in. I quickly stopped in to grab a few cold caff einated drinks. With a moment of cellular service, I took a peek at the tracker. To my astonishment, I found myself in 5th place, a surprise considering all of the riders that had passed me as I dealt with mechanicals throughout the morning. I also noticed that the riders in 3rd and 4th place were both situated in Palmdale, the city i was in. I chose to make my stop brief and take advantage of this fourth wind I was experiencing. At this stage in the race, with 180 kilometers still remaining, the top ten were all within an hour or two of one another, which is incredibly close in this type of race.
Fast forward two and a half hours to the Leona Divide Fire Road, just after midnight. The twisting dirt path sometimes kept me alert with sections of Manzanita-laden singletrack. Glancing back into the darkness, the only visible sights besides the stars were the headlights of two riders chasing closely behind me. I felt confi dent I had a few kilometers and some time separating us, thanks to the climbs and descents I had just tackled. Yet, an undeniable urgency coursed through me; it felt as if I were being hunted.
Checkpoint two was situated just a short distance along the trail. Once more, I was welcomed by a stokers as I arrived at the hangout, having a smile and a cola. One of the volunteers shared some valuable information: the rider ahead had just departed the checkpoint 15 minutes earlier. At this stage in the ride, claiming fi rst place seemed unlikely, but second place was defi nitely within reach just up the road. Another thought that kept crossing my mind was that the two riders just behind me were on gravel bikes. This gave me an edge on the descents, but once we returned to the tarmac heading back to Burbank, they would have a signifi cant gear ratio advantage. Part of me wanted to catch up to the homie ahead of me, a fellow flat bar enjoyer, not only to squeeze into second but also to alert him about this tough reality.
For the next four hours, I pushed into the darkness in pursuit of Adam. Unfortunately, He was riding at too steady a pace, and I was running out of gas. The trails were eerie and quiet, and coming across fresh bear tracks layered over tire marks at 5 AM is undeniably a experience i could have done without. A few times, I scared myself just thinking about all the candy and sticky shit I had in my pockets—defi nitely a tempting snack for a cuddly black bear. With 115 km still ahead and 25 km left until the tarmac, I faced the tough decision to pause my pursuit for second place and take a moment to lay down. I just knew I couldn’t sustain. I slowly made my way to the top of the last 700m+ climb, curled up in a ball, spotted a shooting star, and took about an hour-long nap. When i woke up rough and crusty eyed I found myself still in third place, but the hour-and-a-half lead I had on the two behind me had shrunk to just about 25 minutes.
“The trails were eerie and quiet, and coming across fresh bear tracks layered over tire marks at 5:00am is undeniably an experience I could have done without”
“The trails were eerie and quiet, and coming across fresh bear tracks layered over tire marks at 5:00am is undeniably an experience I could have done without”
Back on the bike, I transformed from the hunter to the hunted. At least, that’s how it felt to my frazzled mind. I recognized the task was straightforward: just keep your head down and drive forward. There were still a few more dirt descents I could utilize to my advantage before reaching Ridge Road, where I would descend alongside the grapevine and plunge back into the busy city streets of Santa Clarita and back to the fi nish line at Lets Ride Cycle’s
There was nothing I desired more than to stop at a store for a refreshing drink, but I realized that if I paused even for a moment, the two behind me would simply zoom past. At this point, I couldn’t allow that to happen, so I pressed on.
In the end I would be the third person to make it back to Let’s Ride Cycles after a wild 28hours.
I never really considered a podium fi nish to be signifi cant or on my radar, but when you fi nd yourself standing there, it sure doesn’t hurt.
Back on the bike, I transformed from the hunter to the hunted. At least, that’s how it felt to my frazzled mind. I recognized the task was straightforward: just keep your head down and drive forward. There were still a few more dirt descents I could utilize to my advantage before reaching Ridge Road, where I would descend alongside the grapevine and plunge back into the busy city streets of Santa Clarita and back to the fi nish line at Lets Ride Cycle’s
There was nothing I desired more than to stop at a store for a refreshing drink, but I realized that if I paused even for a moment, the two behind me would simply zoom past. At this point, I couldn’t allow that to happen, so I pressed on.
In the end I would be the third person to make it back to Let’s Ride Cycles after a wild 28hours.
I never really considered a podium fi nish to be signifi cant or on my radar, but when you fi nd yourself standing there, it sure doesn’t hurt.