By Christopher Bagg
Standing at the start-finish of the inaugural Steamboat Gravel (SBT GRVL), shivering almost uncontrollably in the pre-dawn Colorado air, I realized I’d lost my sunglasses on the descent from the house. Shit, I thought, seven hours of riding in the sun and the dust without glasses? Is that going to be OK? I’ll probably be OK for the first few hours before the sun really gets up, but what about after that?
I looked around for help. Someone at the start line had to have something they could loan out. I saw one of my housemates, Steve, who works for IRC Tire and was attending the race as part of the expo, standing near the huge inflatable arch marking the start line, snapping pictures. I handed my bike to my nearby teammate and nudged my way through the thickening crowd of skinny, mostly bearded riders to the barriers.
“Steve!” I called, and he looked up, startled—this was an interruption from the script.
“Yeah, what’s up?” he asked. “You OK?”
“I lost my shades on the way down here. Do you know anyone here who might be able to help?
“Shit,” he exclaimed, echoing my thoughts from just a few minutes before. “Hang on, I’ll ask around.”
I returned to my bike, watching the clock tick towards 6:30 and our departure for 141 miles of what SBT GRVL advertises as “the best roads you’ll ever ride.” All the usual pre-race emotions of anxiety, excitement, and straight-up fear boiled through me, turned to high due to the addition of an unexpected equipment loss. A few minutes later a tall skinny man wove through the crowd towards me.
“Hey, I’m Jim,” he began. “We actually met via email a few months ago. What a crazy coincidence to bump into you here. I hear you’ve lost some sunglasses?” I told him I had, and that I’d be indebted to him if he could help me out. “They’ll just be casual shades,” he cautioned. I told him I’d take anything. “Sit tight,” he said, and wove back through the crowd, his ease at navigating a swarm of Lycra, carbon, and ego suggesting a long history in the sport.
Before disappearing to search for the aforementioned shades, he lifted a microphone to his lips and began to speak. He was—along with being my possible savior—the race announcer, and he’d taken a few precious minutes before the start of this first-time race to try and help me out. I couldn’t believe it, but in a season now of racing long-distance gravel races, I was beginning to believe it more.
Gravel cycling is sweeping across the endurance sport world for many reasons (safer, more fun, more adventurous, better views, and fewer pecking orders), but the reason many people love it is the fact that it still feels like the informal races we rolled up to in the 1990s, where you knew most of the organizers, riders, and supporters. At the moment, gravel racing sits at that precious verge between mysterious and mainstream, and races such as SBT GRVL show us that we can have both grassroots feeling with big time amenities. All throughout race weekend everyone I talked to expressed some kind of “Can you believe this is a first-year event?” sentiment.
Pre-race rides left on schedule, with GPS links distributed clearly and effectively; expo events ran smoothly, despite Colorado’s explosive (and punctual) 2pm thunderstorms; and most importantly, probably, racers of all levels were supported and helped throughout their days, whether they raced the Green (37 miles), Blue (100 miles), or Black (141 miles) route.
With a few minutes remaining to go to 6:30, Jim snuck back through the crowd, which had grown denser in his absence, as elite riders joined the front line and the rest of us pressed forward nervously. “I’m sorry,” Jim began, the whole story encapsulated in those two words, “but I couldn’t find them. I really wish I could have helped. OK, I have to go and start the race!” Despite my dismay, I couldn’t help but be warmed a little by the fact that he took the time to come and tell me the outcome of his search, a tiny detail in a morning warming with other things more important than me and my carelessness.
So SBT GRVL nails the customer experience side of things, how was the actual race? Each gravel event I’ve completed this year has its own unique character. Belgian Waffle Ride is dirt, rocks, beer, and irony; the Cascade Gravel Omnium is gritty, tough racing in a splendid stage race setting; Dirty Kanza is a moonshot at the center of the gravel world, the sheer distance turning the day into a “will I even get there?” question that one answers over a long, solitary ride; SBT GRVL feels like all of those things put together: competitive racing un-blunted by enormous distance (although 141 miles is plenty far!), in a setting that only the Cascade Omnium could rival for beauty, with gravel’s tongue-in-cheek attitude firmly in place. A guy lined up in front of me at the start wearing a white cotton t-shirt and a fanny pack. One hour later, I noticed he was calmly climbing the day’s first KOM, apparently breathing through his nose, while a glance at my heart rate monitor put me well beyond my second aerobic threshold (side note—the altitude is no joke; if you have any ambitions of really doing well here, you should spend some time getting acclimated before attempting the race).
The big reason so many people love gravel racing, I believe? You meet it on your own terms, and it accommodates you. Want to try your luck against the best in the sport? Simply ride at the front for as long as you can. It’s a true meritocracy, where water finds its level. If you can hang, you’re welcome to the front. Want to spend a beautiful day challenging your endurance and your mental toughness? That is welcome, too, without judgment. Gravel is participatory, in the best tradition of the word. World Tour riders show up, as do domestic professionals, and people’s grandmothers. To gravel, it’s all the same.
Man, I keep veering away from the subject at hand. It’s a good thing there’s no editor here to keep me in check. The race—what it’s actually like.
We left Steamboat making a cloud of steam, I imagine, all of the riders generating heat in the cool morning (race start temperature: 42 degrees Fahrenheit!), and then a cloud of dust seven miles later, when we hit the dirt for the first time. The course rolls up and down many times here, and the field begin to thin down at the head of affairs. By the time I flatted for the first time (I know, I kinda buried that lede), the group had narrowed to maybe fifty, showcasing a Who’s Who of American cycling. As I felt my rear tire go flat, I coasted to the side of the road, feeling fairly placid. I had survived Kanza with no mechanical issues at all—perhaps it was my due. I re-inflated the tire, hoping that perhaps the tubeless set-up just needed to seal somewhere, and continued on, making contact with a group that sat a few hundred meters back from the leaders. That, however, was the last time I saw the front of the race, as we hit the first KOM at 28 miles and the groups shattered into smaller knots of eight to fifteen riders.
I rode with my group for another 20 or so miles, rolling through the second aid station, when my rear tire went flat again and I decided that today would be more of a sight-seeing excursion than a race. This time I put a tube in and pumped it to well over 50 PSI, hoping to ward off pinch flats for the rest of the day, and I watched the other groups that had been behind me catch up and roll past. Everyone looked happy, even though the distance and the altitude and the heat clearly had begun to bite, and I could hear jokes and compliments getting passed around like party favors. People seemed to be genuinely enjoying themselves, which isn’t hard to imagine.
SBT GRVL lives up to its “Best Roads” billing: the roads provide rolling, plush, Cadillac gravel—well over 90 miles of it. When you are on paved roads, the pavement is smooth and fast, too. Even though you climb just as much as one does at Dirty Kanza (around 10,000 feet of climbing), the speeds are much higher due to the conditions of the road surface. At DK200, for example, Colin Strickland won by averaging a little over 20 miles per hour. At SBT the fastest riders were close to 22 mph.
In terms of tire selection, I would go with something around 32-38mm wide, with a smooth-rolling tread and medium side-knobs. That’ll let you roll fast on the smooth stuff but have your way with the descents, which are quick and flowy. I went with a set of 36mm IRC Bokens, and although I did flat, it was due to tire set-up than a puncture. 40mm tires would be plush but a bit overkill here, and you’d surrender some speed.
While I changed my second flat, my teammate James Walsh actually found himself in a racy position, sticking with the leaders far longer than I did. Here’s what he had to say about his day in the thin Steamboat air:
“As I expected the field at SBT GRVL was stacked and fast. The race played more like a road race than others like Dirty Kanza. I found myself in good position for the first half of the race before the big guns decided to blow it apart. I got dropped at mile 72 after an aid station snafu and then it was time for some solo suffering. I rode my own pace in hope that the race would come back to me a bit as people started paying the price for their earlier efforts.
After filling a bottle with coke and ice at the mile 90 aid station, I started to come back to life. Following the summit of the biggest climb of the day at mile 100 I could see a bunch of riders ahead on the descent in the distance and went into full-on chase mode. I felt the best I’d felt all day (a flash-back to my Dirty Kanza in 2018, when I mysteriously came around after 160 miles of riding) and started moving through groups of other riders. The preparation I’d done before the race definitely paid off as I've never closed out a race of this length that strong.
Last summer when this race was announced, I was stoked about a big gravel race coming to Colorado less than a three-hour drive away. SBT GRVL lived up to all the hype and exceeded all my expectations. The course, aid stations, volunteers, post-race food, beer, and general all-around stoke were all top notch. I cannot wait to go back next year.”
As the man says, we cannot wait to return next August for the second SBT GRVL. It would be difficult for the organizing team to outdo themselves, but I don’t really think they have to—they pretty much nailed it first go. My advice? If you need something done, hire the SBT GRVL guys for anything—they clearly know how to put on a big-time event with a personal, low-key feel, which will be the key to maintaining gravel racing’s appeal as it heads through its adolescence into full maturity. And I will be back for sure, with an extra pair of sunglasses, some more time at altitude for acclimation, and a racier attitude!
