Foreword.
If you haven't already, please read about last year’s attempt in the previous post: DVWM 2017. It provides greater background detail and a thorough depiction of the emotional highs and lows of attempting (and failing) something beyond my abilities. See Instagram @jkoons10 for tidbits of recent adventures.
Disappointment.
Ending the 2017 attempt two miles short of the peak pained me greatly. To put in that effort, to come so close, to turn back without reaching the top… the emotions of that moment still linger. My mistakes became regrets which felt like punishments.
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| Gloomy last look from 2017 |
Motivation.
The failure to summit only strengthened my desire to complete the route. Before even leaving the mountain, I knew I’d be back for a second attempt.
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| Road to Badwater |
Circling a date on the calendar solidified the summit as a concrete goal.
Planning.
By understanding the 2017 mistakes, I addressed my weaknesses. I needed to be fitter, stronger, tougher and more efficient.
Commitment.
Starting in the winter, I began a focused effort to train specifically for the challenge of DVWM. I taught myself to enjoy hill climbing repeats. One day I completed 42 laps of the same hill, accumulating 29,029’ of elevation gain. It’s called ‘Everesting’ and it only took 17 hours.
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| Enormous switchbacks |
Toughness.
When training got uncomfortable, I learned to ignore the pain and push through. Most of the time, it was merely a mental barrier to surpass. The penance taught my legs to continue as long as my mind would allow.
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| Big mountain climbing: Whitney, far right |
In the spring I signed up for a brevet series, including rides of 200km, 300km, 400km and 600km. These semi-supported endurance events taught me how to fuel, hydrate, conserve, and pace myself over long hours on the bike. Feeling strong and confident, my mind pushed my body too far. I ignored a shooting pain and shredded the cartilage in my knee. I completed 250 miles in under 18 hours, but the success* came with an asterisk. My mental toughness was much improved, but a physical set-back brought my plan crashing down.
Patience.
For 12 weeks I couldn’t ride. The self-induced injury left me in purgatory. It was hard to sit still while the calendar turned. The pain slowly faded but the uncertainty and anguish remained.
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| Waiting for sunrise |
Strength.
Months of physical therapy helped me develop a plan for my redemption. Stretching, exercise, and massage slowly rebuilt my knee, while some easy cycling fueled my confidence.
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| Long way to the top: Whitney, again |
Inspiration.
Having friends with ambitious goals made it easier to think bigger. If they could do it, I could too. Whenever I felt I’d reached my limit, I looked to others to see the infinite realm of possibility.
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| Follow the leader |
Obsession.
My training plan evolved to include harder workouts and longer rides, each with increased frequency. The gym gave me strength and power, while the bike gave me endurance and optimism. I constantly eyed the calendar, counting the days, completing my workouts and hitting my benchmarks.
Addiction.
Taken a step further, obsession became something else. So fixated on my goal, I often lost track of priorities, focusing solely on the summit and the endless preparation required.
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| Stay on trail |
Practice.
Nearing the final stretch of training, I put all the pieces together to practice the various stages of the route. I trained in the heat, on huge climbs, at elevation, in the dark, on the dirt, and everything in between. Critically, I also practiced eating and drinking under the stresses of long strenuous climbs.
Teamwork.
My 24-hour goal was impossible without a team. I assembled the best crew, Brandon and Kimber, and added another rider, Nate, for the second attempt. With much discussion on needs and logistics, we finalized the plan and approached the start.
Start: Badwater Basin, Death Valley, the lowest point on the continent (-282’). 3:01pm, 115°F.
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| Smiles at the start: Jeremy and Nate |
Determination.
Despite my training in the heat of summer, 115° is merciless and vicious. It is difficult to breathe. My heart races. It’s harder than expected. Frequent resupply is barely enough to keep the wheels rolling. I reach my first checkpoint dejected, pathetic, and miserable. Dante’s 7th Circle1 wasn’t this hot. It feels like fate, but I am not yet resigned. To escape this Inferno, I must continue.
Stage 1 complete: 42mi to Stovepipe Wells (0’). Goal time 6pm. Actual 5:45, 108°F.
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| Death Valley |
Suffering.
I knew the first stage would be brutal, but three hours in the Valley plays tricks on my mind. I’m looking for an excuse to stop. Maybe my knee hurts. Maybe I’m feeling sick. Maybe today just isn’t the day… We reach the first climb before sunset: a mistake. Dehydrated, overheated, with a 5000’ climb ahead, my body begs for a reprieve, but my mind is now stronger than ever. We continue. Up.
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| Hotter than hell |
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| Still smiling |
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| Or not |
Co-misery.
The crew offer commiserations, but Nate and I share the real misery ourselves. Suffering with a partner makes it more bearable. If he can do it… It’s not the first time I’ve stared bleakly at his wheel and continued only because he was there. Finally, mercifully, the sun sets and the dusk breathes life into my soul.
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| Leaving the Valley |
Camaraderie.
With the distress waning, we breathe deeply, more easily, and take in the beauty of the night. Using minimal lighting, the stars fill our eyes and propel us through the dark.
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| Darkness descends |
A year ago the wind whipped through this section, unleashing a torrent of torment on my psyche. I had opened Pandora’s box and the escaping sorrows clung to me until the end. This year, I dispatch the gloom, brace for the worst, and notice a token on the median: a gift from Pandora herself.
Stage 2 complete: 49mi to Crowley summit (5300’). Goal time 10:30pm. Actual 11:50, 60°F.
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| Midnight snack |
Luck.
The headwind from 2017 still gives me nightmares. I am prepared for another long challenging night, but this year feels different; the wind is at our back. For 10 hours Cerberus2 has hounded us, but a tailwind turns the tide. The task ahead remains herculean, but for the moment, we are immortal. With steely resolve, I check our pace and smile wryly. It is our turn to chase the beast.
Stage 3 complete: 73mi to Big Pine (4000’). Goal time 4:30am. Actual 5:00, 60°F.
Efficiency.
Through the first twelve hours, our efficiency is superb. Minimal stops, quick refills, and excellent teamwork cut corners on the route. We find time by not losing time. I feel the momentum and take the opportunity for a full reset: a shower, hot meal, and fresh shorts.
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| Through the gates |
My passion for this project has infected my friends, but in the end, nobody cares more than I do. I’ve taken countless mornings, evening, and weekends preparing for this moment, often at the expense of family and other opportunities. Now begins the final climb: 10,000’ to gain. After 14 hours riding together, Nate starts to drift behind. For the next 10 hours, we’ll ride alone. I have my own demons to fight and my own score to settle.
Stage 4 complete: 23mi to the Bristlecone Forest (10,000’). Goal time 8am. Actual 8:30, 50°F.
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| Alone to Bristlecone |
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| After a long night |
Gratitude.
I invented this goal, the most net elevation gain in under 24 hours, as the most difficult challenge I could conceivably complete. Other riders may well do it faster, or find a harder route or a bigger mountain, but for my skill set, this attempt is the pinnacle of my ability. It takes a huge team effort to complete this ride and I literally couldn't do it without my crew. The countless water bottles and calories, the batteries and gear, the infinite encouragement, after 18 hours of support, I fully realize how grateful I am to my team. Brandon, Kimber, and Nate prove indispensable, as do the family and friends back home who lend us vehicles, provide childcare, and generally pick up my slack when I need a rest day (or two).
Stage 5 complete: 15mi to the Barcroft Gate (11,700’). Goal time 11am. Actual 11:15, 60°F.
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| Endless horizon |
Perseverance.
A year ago, the miles before the Gate left me weak and sputtering. With Brandon now riding next to me, this year is different. Only a few minutes behind the pace, I float past the Gate and glide up the ramp to Barcroft. Vivid memories of the previous struggle envelop me, but I brush them off and surge forward. I reach the stones of last year’s DNF and stop for a symbolic snack and photo. Hikers on the trail are astonished at our progress, but warn that “it only gets harder from here.” You don’t say?
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| Summit in sight |
Stage 6: 10mi to the Peak.
Tenacity.
The final pitch becomes unridable. The trail narrows, steepens, and sharpens. To consider the route ‘completed by bike,’ the bike must make the summit too. Pushing a mountain bike uphill, a Sisyphean3 task at 14,000’, proves the hikers right. Switchback upon switchback, progress is indiscernible. A mile from the summit, with 1000’ to gain, I take some food and grit my teeth. I mount the bike, leaving Sisyphus behind. The clock is ticking and I’m not yet ready to pay for my sins.
End: White Mountain Peak, the highest point (by bike) on the continent (14,252’). 1:52pm, 50°F.
Satisfaction.
I crest the final switchback and receive a welcome greeting from another hiker. Probably thinking I’ve done only ten miles, not two-hundred and ten, she cheers “Congratulations! You made it!” Exhausted, out of breath, I’m able to stammer, You have no idea… how much …this means… to me. I collapse on the summit platform and reach for my clock: 22 hours, 51 minutes, 56 seconds.
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| Trail's end |
Relief.
I savor the summit alone, looking widely out and down, absorbing the mountain of effort below. Brandon rolls his own stone to the top, and for a moment we have the world to ourselves. We celebrate, we sigh, we embrace, and barely, I cry.
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| Warmer memories of the peak in 2018 |
If pride is a sin
I’m going to hell
Take me to Badwater
I’ll ring the bell
Epilogue.
Net gain, in a day: 14,534’, a national record.
Afterword.
Nate is hugely inspiring. On short notice, with little training, he joined this ride on borrowed bikes and managed, through grueling effort, to reach mile 210. Only 2 miles from the summit, the clock expired and we had to turn him back. No doubt he could have finished in the dark, but it didn’t feel safe to send him up alone. It’s eerily similar to my 2017 result, but I hope his optimism will still consider it a success. His adventures are mythical, and if his mistakes put him through hell4, at least I’ll have good company.
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| Brandon - Jeremy - Nate |
1. Dante’s 14th century epic poem, Inferno, leads the journey through nine concentric circles of hell.
2. The three-headed ‘hound of Hades’ guards the gates of hell to prevent the dead from leaving.
3. Forced to push a boulder to the top of the mountain only to see it roll back down, Sisyphus must start again and repeat the process for eternity.
