The Massanutten Ring

I first heard about The Massanutten Ring shortly after moving to Harrisonburg, VA towards the end of 2015. Among of my goals in moving there were to become a part of the city’s vibrant cycling community, and explore the endless miles of trails in the nearby mountains. Eric Jensen at Bluestone Bike and Run was one of the first people I rode with down here. He took me on my first ride in the nearby area known as Fort Valley, in the Massanutten Mountain Range, about 20 miles north of town. We rode North on the the East Ridge, from Camp Roosevelt to Veech Gap. Coming from Northern NJ, I was both accustomed to and very fond of hard, rocky, technical riding, but this was some next level stuff. It was 100% singletrack...tight, narrow, knife edge ridge line with razor sharp sandstone coming at you non - stop, from all angles and in all shapes and sizes. There were scores of steep chutes, both up and down, some rideable, some not, plus big gnarly climbs and descents to get on and off the ridge. It was both beautiful and brutal...easily the hardest and most challenging terrain I’d ever seen. I absolutely loved it, and I absolutely could not wait to see more. 

Eric informed me that the trail we rode was but a small section of the orange blazed Massanutten Trail, a 70 mile loop that encircles all of Fort Valley, primarily traversing its ridge lines. The full loop has roughly 14,000 vertical feet of climbing. 

Since 2012, a select group of riders have been attempting to ride the loop in its entirety, a feat known as a full pull of The Ring of Fire (Officially called The Massanutten Ring, but known to most simply as “The Ring”). The thought of riding that much gnar all at once seemed completely, bat shit crazy to me. Eric and I had ridden a mere 15 miles of it and it took the better part of 5 hours. My initial thoughts on ever attempting The Ring were something along the lines of ”Well there’s something I have no desire to do in this lifetime, or any other”.

The 5 years that followed brought many riding trips to Fort Valley. I would come to know and love the various classic rides that make up the multiple sections of the Massanutten Trail, from Signal Knob at the North end, to Jawbone at the South. These are long, burly destination rides onto themselves, where local riders go when they really want to test their mettle. The more time I spent riding in the area, the more taken with it I was...and the sharper my technical skills became.  When I’d visit the rocky parks in NJ that used to challenge me, they now felt easy by comparison. Still, attempting a full pull myself seemed like a feat of total madness.

Cut to 2020. It’s March. I do one early season race, the Stokesville 60/40, in which I crash hard, break my face (and my finger). Then COVID 19 hits and the world flips upside down. All my live sound work disappears. I’ve got an excess of time to ride and train, but nothing to train for, as all the remaining races on my calendar are cancelled or postponed indefinitely. As Winter softens into Spring, I suddenly notice a slew of new Ring full pull completions. Friends of mine, peers, people with whom I ride are not only attempting it, but actually succeeding. New FKTs (Fastest Known Times) are being set in rapid succession by Madison, then Sam, then Abe then Jeremiah. A germ of a thought begins to grow: I do need of some sort of goal to salvage my virtual non season, and I do like pushing my own limits. I can’t believe I’m actually considering this, yet somehow I am. 

Attempting The Ring is not something you just wake up one morning and decide to roll out out and do. It takes research, planning and preparation to pull it off, not to mention the training. As I began to go down that swirling vortex of information, I quickly realized that, for a variety of reasons, it would be about 5 months before I could attempt The Ring. To begin with, there are two relatively short windows per year in which to do it: one in the Spring, one in the Fall. You don’t want to try it in the winter — too cold to be on the bike for that long and not enough daylight. Summer might be even worse: way too hot and humid, plus some sections get badly overgrown. The Spring window is longer and you have more daylight, but by the time I’d mentally committed to it that window was essentially closed...no way I could get in Ring shape that fast. So I started planning for the Fall. It’s a shorter window because the temps stay high and the brush stays brushy through September. But by November you are slipping surfing through rock-obscuring leaves. So that left October, which presented a few challenges of its own. While the cool, dry weather is ideal, the days are shorter, which meant that I’d need lights for both the beginning and ending hours of the ride. Ok then, challenge accepted, insanity confirmed. I had roughly four months to prepare.

According to the official Facebook page “Ride the Massanutten Ring”, there are 3 classifications of Ring attempts: 1) Supported: you have a support team meet you at various road crossings along the route to resupply you and provide encouragement. Despite numerous offers of support from friends, I wrote this option off knowing I wanted sole ownership my success or failure. 2) Unsupported: you must carry all your food, water and supplies, and when you run out of water you replenish it by filtering it from streams. This would add an extra layer of brutality to an endeavor that's supremely brutal already. Hard pass.

3) Self Supported: you strategically pack and stash your own resupply bags/coolers with food, water and supplies along the course right before your ride, but accept no outside help. Option 3 fit the bill for me, and so the preparation began.

There are two are fronts on which you need to prepare for the Ring; training and logistics. Let’s start with the latter. There was A LOT of thought that went into this. First, I needed to set a realistic time goal for myself so I could figure out how much food, water, lighting etc. I’d need, and where I should stash my resupply drops. I looked at the times of my Ring finishing peers like Madison Blake and Lindsay Carpenter and figured that without any unforeseen problems I could do it in somewhere between 16 and 17 hours. Badass former World Champion cyclocross racer Libby Sheldon, who I’ve raced multiple Tours de Burg alongside, completed a supported full pull in 16:31. If I could come close to that time on my self-supported effort, I’d be very happy.

After considering weather and sunrise/sunset times, I picked the third week in Oct for my target date. I would need a day with perfect weather...no chance of rain, with highs in the 60s and lows in the 40s. At that time of year I’d have roughly 12 hours of daylight from 7am to 7pm. I’d need to start with one set of lights and a backup at 4am, with the goal of finishing with a second stash of lights by 9pm. Next was hydration. The plan was to ride with a 3 liter Camelback with plain water and 1 bottle on the bike with Skratch Labs energy drink. I’d need to carry enough fluids to make it to each resupply point, but no more that necessary...extra weight on my back could be a killer on a ride this long. My first drop point would be Camp Roosevelt at mile 23 and the second at Edinburgh Gap at mile 46. This allowed me to think about planning my route in thirds. Each drop would have water to partially fill my pack, a fresh bottle of Skratch and a bottle of Pedialyte to drink with my lunches while I was stopped. Speaking of food, my plan was to stick with my standard for long races: GU and Honey Stinger gels or Clif Shot blocks every hour (I'd set an alarm on my Garmin to remind me to eat) then Peanut Butter and Nutella sandwiches on multigrain bread for my breakfast and lunch stops. All foods I knew would keep my energy levels consistent without upsetting my stomach. The drops would also contain more gels/blocks, spare tubes, CO2, chain lube and, oh so importantly...chamois cream. Allowing my nether regions to get chaffed could be the difference between enjoyment and outright misery. 

When it came to training for The Ring, the foundation was similar to what I’d do to prep for a season of endurance racing, with a few key differences and areas of focus. Knowing how long I’d be on the bike, naturally I focused on doing lots of long training rides of 5, 7, and eventually up to 10 hours. I mixed these up...some on gravel, and some on very hard technical trails, including parts of the Ring route itself. I also used this as an opportunity to scout the few sections of the route that I hadn’t ridden recreationally before, which were Duncan Hollow, The Waterfall Mountain HAB (Hike a Bike), and the brief section between Jawbone Gap and Short Mountain. I also did some shorter, high intensity riding, but without any real structure...no timed intervals on the trainer or the road. 

Knowing that the route had countless sections where I would need to walk, push or portage my bike, I did quite a bit of hiking to prepare. Some of these were just plain hikes, and some were arduous rides with HABs mixed in. Not exactly fun, but necessary. Another component of my training was core and upper body strength work...abs, shoulders, back, triceps etc...I do some of this anyway, but I definitely stepped it up a few notches for The Ring. The final component was yoga. I knew that between constantly being on and off the bike, hiking on jagged rocks and carrying a heavy pack all day, I’d need to be as loose and limber as possible.

The final decision was which bike to ride. This really wasn’t that tough a choice, my 100mm Trek Top Fuel was too racey and my 150mm Santa Cruz Hightower was too heavy at around 31lbs. This left My 2016 Trek Fuel EX With 120mm of front and rear suspension travel, slightly relaxed geometry and a weight of about 27lbs. It would be the perfect choice for an all-day adventure. To get it Ring ready, I upgraded to a new Shimano XT 12 speed drivetrain with a 32t chainring up front and a 10-51 cassette in the back, which would be crucial for spinning up the climbs without pushing myself into the red. The other key factor was tires. The Ring can destroy a set of light race tires within a few miles, so I opted for some nice, fresh, burly rubber...set up tubeless of course.

Throughout the entire summer of training I continued to question the sanity of what I was committing myself to. There was always a shadow of doubt as to whether I’d actually go through with it. To ensure that I wouldn’t back out, I leaked my plans to just enough of my riding friends to hold me to account. Fortunately, by late September, something had clicked: I was feeling 100% healthy and really strong on the bike; I knocked out several. 10+ hour rides with 10k’ of vert without cramping or lower back issues (to which I tend to be susceptible). To the extent that anyone every really is, I was ready for The Ring. 

After a 3-day weekend of riding in West Virginia with friends (longish days, but pretty chill) the plan was to come home, rest and ride easy for a few days, then go for it on Thursday or Friday. But the weather had different ideas; When I returned to Harrisonburg on Saturday, I checked the 5 day forecast. It called for highs near 80 toward the end of the week...way too hot. That left Wednesday Oct. 14th, with a low of 45, a high of 70 and a 5% chance of rain; pretty close to perfection. This had to be the day! That still gave me 3 full days of rest and recovery. Hopefully it would be enough.

Sunday it poured as expected. I spent the day making lists of everything that needed to go in my coolers, drop bags, Camelback and handlebar feed bag. Monday was devoted to prepping and packing: I charged my lights and my Garmin GPS, putting it in battery saver mode so it would last the whole ride. I laid out and packed my nutrition, hydration, tools, clothing and gear. I also inserted a hand written note in each of my drop bags, imploring any humans who found them not to tamper with their contents (Not sure how effective this would be for bears and raccoons though). Tuesday I started pre-hydrating, did a mellow ride in the morning, and got ready to head up to PoeTown Music, the recording studio where I work (conveniently located just 2 miles from Elizabeth Furnace, my start point for The Ring). I would stage at the studio and spend the night. As I was leaving home I had a moment of panic when I realized I only had one backup light, and that I might need another for the end of the ride. I stopped by Bluestone and picked up a handlebar mounted Nite Rider to ease my anxiety. I grabbed 2 foot-long subs from Sub Station, one for dinner and one for when the Ring was complete. I drove into Fort Valley and carefully hid my drop bags and coolers in the woods at the two locations that I’d previously scouted. I got to the studio, had my dinner and charged my new backup light. 

I crawled into my sleeping bag and managed a couple hours of sleep before the day’s hydration forced me awake at 2:30 am. I donned my bibs, jersey, knee and arm warmers, wind vest, tall socks, shoes and helmet and drove the 7 minutes to the Signal Knob trailhead. I reminded myself of the mantras I’d chosen to repeat throughout the ride: “slow is fast, conserve your matches!” In other words, never attempt to ride something that would send my heart rate into the red zone. Even if I knew I was capable of doing so...just get off and walk.

I stepped out into the crisp, clear 45-degree morning and saw my breath on the air. I looked up to Orion for some cosmic inspiration, checked my lights and the time. 4am sharp. Time to rock and roll.

It starts with a quick, mandatory up and down on the bottom of Bear Wallow to warm things up, then across the road and up the beastly first climb of Shawl Gap. It climbs gradually, but gets increasing steep and gnarly. Around halfway I’m mostly off and walking through rock gardens and up stone staircases. Now I’m really warmed up; the arm warmers come down and I dial my lights back to a low setting, not needing much for my crawl up the mountain. After the final boulder field on Shawl I reach the ridge and keep on climbing. My legs feel good. I ride a couple sweet miles of rocky ridge when I notice the spectacular crescent moon through the trees. I sacrifice a little time to take a few photos.

My Garmin lets me know an hour has passed and I down my first energy gel. A few more HABs and I’m near the summit, when my gears start to skip. Not good. I also notice that my rear brake seems to be fading. Did I hit a rock and not realize it? I stop and look. Nothing looks bent, nothing stuck in my cassette. I keep rolling and start the super chunky descent down to Veach Gap. It pitches up in a few places and my gears feel ok. Weird. When the descent mellows out and gets fast, I brake and my rear lever goes right to the handlebar. WTF!? I stop again. This time I flex the wheel and I see that the rear axle has fully backed out of the thread on the drive side of the frame. Holy @#$&! I rethread the skewer, tighten the hell out of it and roll on with a huge sigh of relief; trying not to dwell on just how badly that could have ended.

 I rip the rest of the descent then start the doubletrack climb up the other side of Veach. I imagined myself staying on the bike for the whole thing, but it’s not to be. It’s surface is so loose that I spin out a couple times and have to hoof it. Back on the ridge it’s another nice, undulating couple miles of pedaling before the trail drops sharply to the eastern shoulder. Here I’m faced with big, off-camber rock moves that if misjudged could easily result in a long tumble down the hill. Repeating my mantras, I’m off the bike again. Now almost 3 hours in; the sun start to rise over the Blue Ridge Mountains. It’s orange glow causing the peak leaf colors to explode atop the ridge. The scenery is stunning. Time be damned; I’m already walking so I pull out my phone and snap some more pics. 

From there, the ridge becomes a narrow tightrope with jagged, angular rocks and steep ups and downs. I ride what I can, and walk when I should, keeping my heart rate out of the red.  Now fully light, I remove my helmet light and stash it in my pack. I never needed the backup light. At an overlook I peer off to the west to find a stunning lake of mist sitting in Fort Valley. More pics are taken. I’m feeling strong, the bike is now flawless and the beauty of my surroundings propel me forward. I finish the East Ridge without incident; despite a few rock strikes on my derailleur, it continued to shift perfectly. I nail the highly technical descent into Camp Roosevelt, cleaning it for the first time...always good for morale.

Twenty-three miles in and I’ve reached my first drop point at 9:30 am. I pull my cooler from its hiding place and go through my mental checklist of things I need to do. First, eat! The PB & N sammy goes down easy, chased with a bottle of Pedialyte. I drop my lights, refill my Camelback, grab a new bottle of Skratch, replenish my gels and blocks and return my cooler to its hiding tree. It all takes longer that I was expecting, but I’m still where I should be in terms of timing. I send my friend (and studio manager) Kevin a quick text, to let him know where and when I was. He lives nearby and has agreed to be my safety net should I get hurt.

 Back on the bike, I tackle the 5-mile, mostly gradual climb up Duncan Hollow. It starts with some fun singletrack then quickly devolves into loose, wet doubletrack. It’s an hour long death march and I can’t really say I’m enjoying it, but at least I’m treated to some more great views near the top.

I descend the fun and fast run into the next valley, to the base of the infamous Waterfall Mountain. Several other Ring finishers I’d spoken to site Waterfall as their least favorite part of the route, with good reason. It’s an absolute wall; a full half hour plus HAB straight up a mountainside, with pitches of up to 50%. I walk all of it, with the exception of two tiny sections where it levels out slightly. I pedal for a few yards just to give my calves a break. It was brutal, but I’d pre-ridden (well, pre HAB’d) this section a few weeks before so I knew full well what I was in for. I grit my teeth and just get it over with. 

When I finally crest the ridge and pedal the short section before Jawbone, my legs feel surprisingly strong and fresh. I cross Crissman Hollow Road and zip up the short little climb to the overlook. I stop for a quick bite to eat. As I gaze out over the Shenandoah Valley to the West, I send Kevin another text updating him on my whereabouts...I’m now roughly halfway through The Ring

 I set off on Jawbone; the fall leaves blazing red and orange as the midday sun warms the ridge to a perfect 65 degrees. Mile for mile, Jawbone (aka Kern Mountain) is one of the two most technical sections of The Ring. I find a nice groove here, riding a lot of the gnar but always getting off when it gets too crazy. I have one scary moment when I whack my derailleur on a blade of rock. It jams into my wheel, with one of spokes getting stuck in the lower pulley. Not good. I stop and VERY carefully work the wheel backwards. The spoke pops out of the pulley and the derailleur springs back into place. I breath another huge sigh of relief when I shift through the gears without issue. Whew! I finish off the ridge, bomb down the Jawbone descent, and cross a gnarly traverse with portage through a boulder field. I reach the crossing at Moreland Gap; another quick gel stop and another update text.

The ascent of Short Mountain is painful. It’s too steep and rocky to ride without having put out a massive effort, so I walk almost all of it. This climb is nearly as long as Waterfall, and even more unpleasant. Once on the ridge, Short doesn’t get much easier. This nasty, 6 mile stretch of gnar dips steeply up and down the ridge ad infinitum...forcing me on and off the bike over and over again. I suffer through each undulation thinking every new dip off the ridge is the start of the final descent, but it never seems to come. I am fully in the No Flow Zone, which is a pretty demoralizing place to be.

Then at the height of my frustration, disaster: on one of the more drastic grade reversals, I foolishly try to upshift too many gears at once and my derailleur jams in my rear wheel. Again. This time it looks really bad, with chain twisted up in a way I can’t physically comprehend. No matter how I try I can’t seem to unravel it. I attempt to remove the wheel but it’s being held in place by the twisted mess of metal. My heart sinks. This feels like the end of my Ring attempt. After about ten minutes, I give the wheel one last desperate, brute force pull. It comes free. I untie the chain from the derailleur and it pops back into place, but it has to be badly bent, right??? I remount the wheel and shift through the cassette. Shockingly, It doesn’t seem to be skipping, but riding the bike would be another matter. I start peddling and again, to my astonishment, the bike shifts perfectly, without so much as a minor adjustment! I soldier on with a mixture of joy and disbelief. This XT 12 speed stuff is friggin’ bulletproof! Without further incident, I bomb the chunky but fully rideable descent off Short Mountain to my second refueling point at Edinburg Gap.

I pretty much repeat my ritual from the first rest stop: downing some real food and Pedialyte, restocking water, Skratch and gels, chain lube and chamoise cream etc. I mount up my fresh primary and backup lights to the bike and send my update text. It’s 5pm, and I estimate that I have about 3.5 hours to go if nothing else goes horribly wrong.

I’m off. I’ve lost some time on Short, but I’m thrilled to still be in the game. My legs feel strong and my mindset is positive. I knew I had some of the day’s most enjoyable sections coming up, but first I had to scale the brutish climb up to Wanoaze Peak. With the exception of one rock garden, the bottom half is all rideable.  But the top, in Ring context, is another 15 or 20 minutes of HAB. As I’m trudging up the mountain I come upon a photographer with his camera on a tripod (only the second human I would see on trail all day), no doubt capturing the golden hour magic of the valley. He speaks some words of encouragement and snaps a few shots of me as I push past. I ponder the fact that somewhere out there would be images of my suffering that I would likely never see.

I crest Wanoaze and begin the rocky yet ripping-fast West Ridge; a super fun, hour-long pedal that trends gradually downhill for nearly 10 miles to Woodstock Tower, with almost no dismounts. This is easily my favorite section of the route. After a quick snack and text stop at Woodstock Tower, the ridge flattens out. The stretch from here to Mudhole Gap is more fun, rideable ridgeline. I’m moving well and really enjoying myself, but the specter of the final climb and descent are never far out of mind. I milk the sun’s final rays for all I can, but I need to ignite my lights near the top of Mudhole.

 I finish the ridge and the steep little plunge down to the fire road in darkness. I make a quick final stop at the natural spring to top off my bottle and send my last update. After a few miles of gradual gravel, and a short but mandatory singletrack around the reservoir, I hit the dreaded final wall up to Signal Knob...400 vertical feet of loose gravel at about 20% grade. Somehow, my legs are up to it, and I stay on the bike until the little singletrack detour at the radio tower. I down one last gel as the fire road gives way to the last climbing section of the day: the boney Signal Knob trail ascent up the shoulder of Meneka Peak. I summit with only one dismount, just as my Garmin beeps it’s hourly reminder. It’s 8pm. I have a full hour to meet my goal of under 17 hours. Only the 4 mile Signal Knob descent stands between me and a successful Ring attempt. But getting down off that mountain is no easy feat...the trail is insanely technical with the middle section essentially a mile-long boulder field.

A highly skilled rider with fresh legs MIGHT be able to fully ride it all if they were lucky. I stay on as long as I can, but eventually I’m off and walking. It’s so gnarly that remounting is very difficult, especially in the dark. I keep reminding myself not to try anything stupid. Even so, I have one scary moment when I stuff my wheel into a rock and almost fly over the bars. Somehow I manage to bring the bike down sideways and land on my feet. That was too close. 

After the boulder fields, the tech level eases up a bit, and knowing I’m so close is a much needed shot of adrenaline. I rip the last mile with only two dismounts that I probably could have ridden, but at this point I’m taking no chances. I round a corner and see the silver moonlight glinting off my car. Rolling into the parking lot, I drop my bike to the ground, emitting a primal scream that no one is around to hear. There may or may not have been some some tears shed at this moment, I really can’t remember. My bike and body had held together for 16 hours and 34 minutes...making me only the 18th person to complete a full pull of The Massanutten Ring. I had joined the fellowship! It was hands down the hardest, and without question the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done on a bike.

As I was shedding my helmet and pack, my elation was joined by deep, full body fatigue, which had been kind enough to hold off until I’d finished. I felt a little dizzy, and my legs were pulsating; almost as if they were still trying to turn in circles. Without changing out of my bike clothes, I somehow drove back to the studio without cascading off the road, arriving just as Kevin and owner Donnie Poe were finishing up a band rehearsal. I mumbled some incoherent greetings, they offered congratulations. I hit the shower, barely able to lift my still pulsating legs. Once clean, I devoured my sub, some salty chips and chocolates, along with several bottles of iced tea, while making sure that my ride had accurately saved and uploaded. I crawled into my sleeping bag and reflected on what I’d just put myself through. Closing my eyes, all I could see were endless grey slabs of sandstone...for about 20 seconds. What followed was perhaps the soundest and deepest sleep of my entire life.

Stats and data dork info:

Ring ride type: self supported

Start/end point: Signal Knob Trailhead, Elizabeth Furnace.

Date of ride: 10/14/2020

(According to my Garmin 503. YMMV, literally))

Total time:16:34:17

Total mileage: 67

Elevation gain: 13,442‘

Average heart rate: 136

Max heart rate:163

Average speed: ~5mph

% of singletrack: 96

% of doubletrack: 2

% of garvel: 2 

% of pavement: 0

Estimated time spent HABing ~2 hours

Estimated time stopped for mechanicals: ~15 minutes

Estimated time stopped at drop points ~20 minutes

Estimated time stopped for natural breaks, photos, texts, snacks and other minutiae: 

~10 minutes

Current Fastest Known Time (FKT) as of 1/1/21: 11:23 - Abe Kaufman 

Relevant bike geek stuff:

 

Bike: 2016 Trek Fuel EX 9.9 120mm

Fork: Fox Float Factory 120mm

Wheels: Stan’s Arch S1

Tires: Bontrager SE5 2.3 Team Issue @ 18psi (rear). Maxxis Minion DHR EXO 2.4 @ 17psi (Front) Both tubeless w/ Stan’s sealant.

Drivetrain: Shimano XT 32t chainring/10-51t cassette

Brakes: Shimano XT, 180mm(front ) / 160mm(rear) rotors

Pedals: Shimano XT SPD

Saddle: Bontrager Evoke Ti

Drooper post: PNW Cascade w/ Loam lever

Other nerdy gear of note:

Shoes: Five Ten Kestrel Pro Boa

Lights: On the start:- Cygolight 1300XL, helmet mounted

            At the end: - Outbound Lighting Trail edition, Handlebar mounted Light and Motion 700, handlebar mounted (final descent only)

Gloves: Specialized Body Geometry dual gel (w/ chamoise cream inside to prevent blisters)

Foodstuffs consumed: 1 Clif Bar, ~12 assorted Gu and Honey Stinger energy gels, 3 packs of Clif Bloks, 2.5 peanut butter and Nutella sammys on organic multigrain bread.

Drinks drank: ~ 6 liters of H2O, 48oz Skratch Labs, 40oz Pedialyte

Other cool Ring stuff:

The “Ride the Massanutten Ring” Facebook page has lots more info and recaps by other Ring finishers.

An excellent recap with lots of video footage by then Ring FKT holder Jeremiah Bishop:

https://youtu.be/viwVBaB5NWk