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[claro brasil] German pro Andy Eyring sails across one of the routes many Claro Brasil Ride water crossings.
Courtesy Claro Brasil Ride
Before you sign up for the 2011 Claro Brasil Ride mountain bike stage race, best ask yourself a few probing questions. Start with the basics. Can you—and more importantly, do you want to—ride your bike hard for six days in a row? Can you handle torrential rain, tropical heat and sweltering humidity? Can you deal with trailside mechanicals? Is it okay if your bike gets thrashed by the eroding effects of sand and water? Next move on to deeper queries. Can you deal with lots of pain and suffering? Can you stay mentally positive even though at times you’ll want to break down and cry? And are you willing to sacrifice at least a week of vacation time and about $2,500? If you passed the test, block out Oct. 16-22, 2011, start training, and get very excited. The Claro Brasil Ride is a true bucket list experience.
WHAT TO KNOW IF YOU GO Congratulations, you’ve decided to head to South America for the second running of the Claro Brasil Ride. Now what? For starters, a little geographical info is helpful. The event is held in the northeastern Brazilian state of Bahia in an area dubbed Chapada Diamantina. According to the race handbook, chapada means “region 82
of steep cliffs” and diamantina is a reference to the area’s diamond mining history. Think the dramatic expanses of the American Southwest’s canyon country, only a whole lot greener and wetter, and you’re on the right track. Better yet, do a Google images search for “Chapada Diamantina National Park.” You’ll like what you see. The 2010 race was based half in Mucuge and half in Rio de Contas, both replete with cobbled roads, brightly colored buildings, and lots of small-town charm. No matter who you are, expect to sign autographs for the curious kids who come out to watch the race. The $1,450 race entry includes lodging in tent city with a mattress, plus breakfast, dinner and aid station food and drink. In 2010, round-trip airfares were in the $1,000 range. To get there, you’ll first fly into the coastal metropolis of Salvador. This heavily Afro-influenced city of 2.7 million was founded in the 1500s and is rich in colonial history. Add its perimeter of world-class beaches, and you’ll want to make sure to include some post-race time to look around this vibrant city. From Salvador, it’s a seven-hour bus ride due west to Mucuge, where the 2010 event started. Once on site, buckle up for some serious saddle time. The inaugural event included 565.5 kilometers, only 13 of which were covered in the technical opening day prologue. Two ensuing stages were in excess of 135 kilometers, including Stage 2’s gut punch from Mucuge to Rio de Contas in which only 79 of the 104 teams finished before the 11.5-hour cut-off, and only 50 teams clocked sub-10-hour times.
[claro brasil] Total six-day race times ranged from just over 24 hours for Men’s Open winners (Czech duo of Robert Novotny and partner Kristian Hynek), to 45 hours for the last official-finisher team, Brazilians Claudio Kligerman and Carlos Perpetou. The top Women’s Open team of German Olympian Ivonne Kraft and Portuguese partner Celina Carpinteiro carded a time of just over 30 hours. The Mixed Duo of Brian and Jenny Smith from Gunnison, Colo., won in 27:48. Mid-packers were in the 33- to 38hour range. (For stage-by-stage race reports and more photos visit www. MountainFlyer.com.) If you either don’t finish a stage or miss the time cut, you can still start the next day, but you won’t be considered an official finisher, meaning no finisher’s medal or jersey at the post-race party. The good news is that no matter what, there will be plenty of beer and caipirinhas when the six days of racing are done. Before that post-race party, expect things to be fairly business-like in tent city, with each day going something like this: Wake up, eat as much breakfast as your stomach can handle, ride your bike for six to 12 hours, clean and service your bike, shower, rest in tent, eat as much dinner as your stomach can handle, enjoy daily slide show, video and awards ceremony, sleep, repeat. “Time management is huge,” explained race director Mario Roma, who’s competed in ultra-endurance mountain bike stage races all over the world. “For a lot of people riding their bike is the easiest part. It’s taking care of all the other details and making sure to leave enough time for recovery that’s hard.” Total climbing for all six days was in excess of 10,000 meters, much of it done on what felt like a never-ending barrage of gradual fire-road grinds. But in some ways, that was the easy part. Six days of on-and-off torrential rain wreaked havoc on bikes and turned some trails into nearly impassable muddy trenches. “Stage 2 was the worst,” recalled Alberto Jara, an amateur racer from Brasilia. “There was every possible type and color of mud. It stopped being a bike race and turned into an episode of ‘Survivor.’” There was also plenty of steep, technical singletrack and numerous, punishing hike-a-bike sections, including a sun-scorched, 30-minute grind during Stage 4. “It’s a good thing the downhill after that was so fun,” said Sonya Looney, who, along with Topeak-Ergon teammate Jeff Kerkove, finished third in the Mixed Duo category. “Because that was a death march going up. It was hot, it was steep, and the trail was nothing but loose rocks.” Racers compete in teams of two, with a Men’s 40+ Masters category in addition to Men’s Open, Women’s Open and Mixed. Rules dictate that you must stay within two minutes of your partner at all times. Trails range from smooth and tacky, to teeth-rattlingly rough and rocky. Sometimes you’re careening across wide-open, desert plateaus; other times you’re picking your way through thick, leafy jungle. Most of the aid stations are in small towns where curious residents come out to cheer. “That’s one of the best parts of the race,” Kerkove said. “You roll into these little towns in the middle of nowhere and people are cheering and taking pictures with their phones. Kids are asking for your autograph. Everyone’s super friendly. It’s an amazing experience.” Equipment wise, best opt for the full-suspension XC bike with tubeless tire setup. Six days is too long to put up with a hardtail beating, and punctures are no fun—especially when it’s raining and muddy. No matter what, expect your bike to take a beating. Just hope you
Jason Sumner
Total ride times in excess of 40 hours left some riders wondering what they’d gotten themselves into.
don’t have to deal with an unglued bottom bracket shell like Kerkove did. “It was about 10k [into Stage 4] and the thing just came apart,” said the Fort Collins resident. “The chain wouldn’t stay straight, so it was skipping in basically every gear. It felt like riding without a rear skewer ’cause the back end was moving around so much.” While that mechanical is all but impossible to prepare for (Kerkove started the next day on a loaner bike), you’ll want to bring lots of extra brake pads. Most racers swapped in new pairs at least twice, and the Shimano neutral service crew ran out of replacements at one point. “The rain and sand is very hard on the bikes,” said head Shimano mechanic Ronaldo Aguagm. “Most days we worked on at least 100 bikes and sometimes much more. There were a lot of long nights for my mechanics.” This may all sound like hell on wheels—and certainly there are moments when you’ll want to quit. But push past the suffering, and you reach this valuable realization: Riding a bike is a great way to see a foreign country, and Brazil is a foreign country worth seeing. Indeed, while the event’s tagline (“More than a race…a stage in your life”) ventures toward hyperbole, the combination of epic fat-tire adventure, exotic and breathtaking scenery, welcoming people and introspective enlightenment make the trip south very worthwhile. “There’s something amazingly cathartic about pushing yourself to your breaking point, and then pushing through it,” Roma said. “That’s something everyone should do during their life.” –Jason Sumner 83