Well NECS groupies,
at long last my vision quest to the spiritual birthplace of Team Seagal and an unofficial non race has taken place and I have had a spiritual rebirth, more so then anyone would at one of these –
And believe me there were plenty of river crossings to be blessed at the Middle Fork event. Preparation for an event of this magnitude requires total devotion and focus,
countless hours in the dojo and a strict dietary regime that culminated with Thai chicken and Asian noodles for breakfast the morning of departure, an intense regime that only a few have mastered. Despite this intense and focused preparation the mission was almost aborted when I inadvertently left for the airport without my phone. I borrowed my cabby's phone, dialed the wife and waited for an IED to go off when the call connected. God/Allah bless her as she was in a cab and on the way to the airport to make the exchange.
My mobile device in hand it was time to clear security. Now I had a flask of Del Maguay, and a present for my good friend Nico Toscani that might raise a few eyebrows at the screening station. Alas rather then the alarms going off I gave the TSA agents a good morning chuckle as the xray machine revealed my cargo.
Once on board and winging my way to St. Louis the turbulence kicked in and we were strapped in for the duration of the flight. These days sitting for any period of time is painful and here I was strapped in and feeling like Keith Richards waiting for a fix.
Touching down in the land of macro breweries I hustled my ass off the plane to the destruction of last week’s tornado
and a greeting from the jerk of all jerks, Nico Toscani. Off we went to Casa de Nico where the Mrs had prepared a fantastic Chinese noodle lunch to provide the necessary carbs for the race. Following lunch (and a few PBRs) I was issued my team travel bag and race day swag (that included a mini Seagal head, stickers and the rare Cockpunchor refrigerator magnet)
and we loaded the car up with the trusty rides and cooler before heading off for the foothills of the Ozarks and the famed Council Bluffs.
En route we stopped at the local Wholefoods to load up on top tier IPAs and all of the required makings for the infamous Braquito, a standard of Team Seagal. You know you are in the deep South when the Wholefoods sells racing fuel
And the local McDonalds sign is sporting a McD boner.
As we arrived at the last vestiges of humanity before heading into the mountains we came upon what I believe might have been the original home of the Toscani family as they arrived from the shores of Europe. Needless to say we stocked up on the fine offerings to ensure maximum gas attacks on the field the following day.
Shortly after this we entered “Blood Alley” the most dangerous section of roadway in Missouri.
Those entering this section of roadway can gain comfort from the fact that the revered “Bathtub Marys” are along the road to guide you to safety.
(we put a lot of thought into how hard it must be to bury the bathtub and then realized that the Bathtub Mary set are also the same families that have a backhoe as a second vehicle).Having survived the road of death we pulled into Council Bluffs to clouding skies and a chance of rain. For those of you that venture to the nether regions of the blogs and follow the
antics of Team Seagal then you are familiar with the cult like status bestowed on the trails of Counsel Bluffs/Middle Fork. The standards were high and expectations great as we pulled into the campground. Using all of our senses we did the most important thing and kitted up and headed out for ride before the rains came, worrying about setting up camp at a later time. I have to tell you it was not 5 minutes into the ride and Council Bluff had already lived up it’s top billing. Despite heavy rains the trails were well drained, hard packed, fast and flowing. (think of Raystown Lake on steroids). Near the end of the ride we came upon Tropical Storm Mason and brother T-tocs and with 18 miles in the books we headed back to camp to commence in the consumption of fine yeasty malted beverages. By the time we were back activity in the campground was gaining momentum and some of the wives were gearing up for a hike on the trails. Now being Missouri and being Team Seagal these are some serious bad ass women and you don’t want to cross one of them on the trail – side arms are standard issue.
Stoking the fire to the proper temperature Senor Toscani set about preparing the sacred Braquito, a combination of bratwurst, sharp jack cheese, bbq sauce and soft shell tacos, and my next step of the initiation to the team. Fortified with a stomach full of Braquitos we next met up with the Lawman as he pulled into the grounds. Lawman is the resident Ozark trial master and keeper of the sacred chainsaw and is known throughout the region for his ability to bake some of the best cookies on either side of the Mississippi.
The Lawman
The Lawman's Camelbak
Lawman Treats
With tents and bat hammocks in place the rest of the evening degenerated into a typical beerfest with my last memory being something like this before I stumbled to the tent and the safety of a horizontal positioning.
Race day morning dawned with cool temps (in the high 40s), beautiful clear skies and Nico sawing logs in the hammock/womb and the damage from the night before present everywhere including an open, untouched Stone Ruination that left most of the racers in a total state of shock.
Thanks to Nico the jerk I stepped up to the line with a colon full of gas (thank you Braquitos) that left some of the non racers gagging and this fine stallion to ride.
But on the first descent the flask loosened up and I had to pull to the side for a quick repair which put me in DFL. Slicing through the field I had made solid progress until I came upon Coach Ryback snapping pics which meant only one thing, stop and have a social shot of Del Maguay. After countless miles of kick ass singletrack we had a long section of road to spin it out before the wall of climbing showed. The reward at the top was a bar set up by the Lawman featuring PBRs and trail towels to dry off with. The Lawman was snapping photos so I made a point of pulling out my junk for a feature shot.
Never one to pass on a good time I dropped the bike trailside had a social beer with the Lawman before setting out for the second half of the race (which I learned would be nothing but singletrack). Back out on the course I caught with Sasha, introduced myself and partnered up for a few miles. As we rode down one section of connecting road we were faced with what looked to be a giant sand tsunami which turned out to be the local quarry. Retracing our last couple of miles of riding we found the missed turn and were off into the woods making up for lost time. With Sasha leading the women’s class I marked her and ran interference for a time on the next climb. Soon after the rains started and combined with the countless river crossings I was getting down right cold. Several times, after long stretches in the woods with no one in sight I began to question if I was on the right course and if not was I to become a slave of the backwoods folk, forced to stoke the fires of the stills for the remainder of my life. In fact on several occasions I retraced my route until I came upon T-tocs and knowing that he and bro Tropical Storm Mason had set the course I rode on in comfort. All of this came in one of the sweetest sections of trail that also happened to be T-tocs favorite trail and view – I was getting the best from the locals! With the rain now pouring we removed our glasses, toweled off and headed back out on the trail. At the last water stop we were told 2 descents and 2 climbs to the finish, well after 4 descents and 3 climbs and with the odometer was showing race distance in the books (I had no idea how much backtracking I did) again I became concerned with getting lost in the Ozarks. Once again I resorted to the now infamous C-Dubs back track until I again came upon T-tocs who got a good laugh when I realized that I had turned around less then ½ mile from the finish and rode about 2 miles back down the trail.
Finally the sounds of jerks eminated from the woods of Middlefork and I was at the finish but was so cold I didn’t have the energy to flip off Coach Ryback. Waiting in the parking lot was one Nico Toscani, master wrist snapper, ruler of the singlespeed class and winner of this fine trophy.
Having finished early on he was there to give moral support to yours truly and T-tocs, setting us up with beers and providing all of the towels we would need to dry off after we called “Service” and stripped in the pouring rain. Once changed it was into the car for heat, beer and Oxycodine to relieve the pain that reared up once the race was over.
With Bratquitos and a non race under my belt the final leg of my initiation was soon to be complete as we rolled into the parking lot of the one and only Dos Primos (and the one and only Dickey Bub in existence where I am sure you can buy everything from diapers to ammo).
Entering the establishment we were greeted by Juan who immediately inquired “ your usual table Mr. Toscni?” and once seated served up with an order of Dos Primos dip. I don’t know what was in it but I wanted more before the first bite was done. Of course there was only one thing to chase such a meal down with and it was the mother of all margaritas.
With our pie holes stuffed it was off to St. Louis to unload the car and get whisked off to an evening of bliss at the Ritz Carlton where I was hooked up in style (king size bed and balcony) by Mr. Toscani. In the morning I was escorted to the exclusive Ritz club at the top of the hotel for this incredible breakfast.
Unlimited espresso from this mood lit $8,000 espresso machine
and dessert from the worlds only cookie humidor.
Simply put the life of a Team Seagal member in St. Louis is the ticket to being treated like royalty. I can’t wait for a return to some of the finest trails I have ridden and one hell of a great group of guys to ride with.
On a final note a big round of applause to Tropical Storm Mason, Coach Ryback, the Lawman and Gino Fellino (who bravely pulled sweep duties in the rain) for putting on a great non race.
with amazing results. Just yesterday I was a svelte PBR swilling rider like this -
and then this morning it was this -
Boy am I going to kick some ass.
got right down to business and stormed the sport field at Waywayanda taking the top step.
Next up, after a week of torrential rain, was the Stewart Six Pack where, in pro class, there was a event that happens less often then a swarm of locusts - Monte's doing his impersonation of a Japanese fighter pilot -In Sport class it was MacGyver in 7th for under 45 and for the soon to be Centrum Silver grouping it was Top Chef in 6th and the Mayor, well, he was simply the Mayor. Meanwhile in the singlespeeds it was El Obamador in 5th, Tom "Hobo Slayer" Hill in 13th, Senor Agua in 15th and an unconfirmed sighting of Mikesquatch in 18th.
