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Dirt Rag Articles
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Neatly wedged between North and South America, and between the Pacific and the Atlantic oceans, there is the little big country called Costa Rica. A country without an army, and whose president is a Nobel Peace Prize winner. A country where almost 30% of the territory is occupied by National Parks and other forms of wildlife refuges.
Spanish conquistadors took almost twenty years to fully explore this nation half the size of Tennessee. Their slow and difficult advance testifies to the devilish complexity of the Costa Rican geography, and to the impenetrability of its jungles. The volcanic ranges of Guanacaste, Tilarán, Central and Talamanca form a gnarled backbone that splits the Costa Rican isthmus from North to South, rising 12,500 feet above sea level at its highest point. On either side of this barrier, a tangle of gorges, canyons, and valleys fans down towards placid swamps and pristine beaches, carrying along the churning waters of powerful rivers like the Pacuare and the Reventazón.
In a terrain like this, cycling over to the corner store can sometimes be what in other places of the world we would call an Epic Ride. Steep grades, slippery surfaces, a changing climate, rough trails and spectacular nature are quintessential elements of Costa Rican mountain biking.
In 1992 a Costa Rican sportsman by the name of Román Urbina had the idea to pay homage to the Spanish conquistadors by crossing the country from coast to coast on a mountain bike. A total of thirty cyclists left Jacó, on the Pacific Coast, and arrived three days later in Limón, on the Caribbean. Thus La Ruta de los Conquistadores was born, one of the first multi-stage "adventure races" in mountain biking history and the one which is still considered, arguably, the hardest.
La Ruta started off as an almost purely Costa Rican affair but, by degrees, this race grew into the populous and international event that is today. In 2007 more foreigners than locals took part, the majority of them Americans. Some of the strongest riders in the world regularly take part (such as Thomas Dietsch, Thomas Frischknecht, and Tinker Juárez) and mingle casually with the mob of adventurers of all levels, ages and origins who try their luck at La Ruta. Traditionally, however, the locals dominate the top twenty of this race, making the most of this yearly opportunity to show off the high level of Costa Rican mountain biking to the rest of the world.
So who are these unknown Tico riders and how come they are so ridiculously strong? Tico is the nickname that Costa Ricans have given themselves. Supposedly, the origin of the term is the suffix "-tico" which they often append to certain words—"un momento" becomes "un momentico" and so forth. While mountain biking has become a relatively popular sport in the United States and other countries, in few places we see it expressed in such a real and spontaneous way as in Costa Rica, where cycling, more than a sport, is a part of life itself. On a given weekend, groups of Tico cyclists of all ages are seen pedaling through the rugged Costa Rican backcountry. Some are fit, some have pot bellies; some ride good bikes, some old clunkers; but all have in common the fluid and easy spinning that identifies strong and seasoned riders. Bike clubs are abundant and so are local races, some of which, small and unknown as they are, would be labeled as hardcore by American standards.
Years of covering La Ruta for outdoor magazines have given me the chance to meet and befriend some of these anonymous Tico riders, and to learn of their personal stories. They are construction workers, cooks, fruit pickers and taxi drivers. Some work overtime loading bananas and coffee sacks onto semi trucks so they can afford a suspension fork for their aging hardtail. Some save for months in order to pay for la Ruta's entry fee. They ride hard in a country where mountain biking either kills you or makes you strong.
The arrival in the capital of San Jose is always a somewhat perplexing and disappointing experience. La Ruta headquarters is located in a Best Western hotel, overlooking a busy intersection and surrounded by truck repair shops, car dealerships, and miscellaneous grimy businesses protected by electrified concertina wire. Dominating the whole scene is a giant Denny's sign. On a rainy night—and under the influence of a few shots of guaro, a local 80-proof distillate—it might seem out of Phillip K. Dick's post-nuclear Los Angeles. On the morning after my arrival, a microbus took a group of us from San Jose to the start of the race, dodging potholes, passing trucks at blind corners, and displaying the nonchalant attitude towards near-misses which seems to define Costa Rican road etiquette.
"At least there is no road rage," I teasingly said to a dozing Thomas Dietsch, 2007 XC World Cup overall champion, who was seated behind me. He nodded and smirked, as we both know what driving in Paris or Madrid is like.
Seated next to me was a Costa Rican rider. When I told him that I am from Spain but live in California he suddenly became very interested.
"Tell me about mountain biking in California. I bet it's bellísimo there," he said.
"It is. But very different," I replied.
"In what way?" he asked.
"Well, sometimes it seems to me that California is becoming a theme park. People drive 100 miles with their SUVs to self-paying trailhead parking lots. Trails have rules, man-made features, posted signs and preposterous names. However both nature and trails are, indeed, extremely beautiful."
"Oh!" he said, and fell into a bewildered silence. I looked to see if any of the Americans sitting around us had heard my sarcastic portrayal and had anything to say. But they all seemed transfixed, looking out the windows at a passing landscape of bottomless gorges, cloud-covered heights and almost neon greenery.
We were running late and it was only reluctantly that the driver agreed to slow down, briefly, at the bridge over the Río Grande de Tárcoles. Below, several immense crocodiles could be seen lounging, motionless, half-awash on the sandy banks. We snapped our crocodile photos and soon were speeding again towards Jacó, our destination. Jacó is a burgeoning resort city on the Pacific coast, catering to surfers and beer-drinking, sleeveless-shirt-wearing, American beach-goers. This was no time for loafing, though. Our hotel was alive with a feverish activity: Lycra'd figures whirled around like dervishes, claiming luggage, checking into rooms, picking up number tags, scrambling to find and tune-up their bicycles; some laughing, some swearing, but all possessed by a nervous, almost hysterical energy.
In the lobby I bumped into Susan Haywood, who seemed in a bit of a daze. "The airline lost my bike. Looks like I'll have to race with a loaned bicycle," she said resignedly. At 4 a.m. the race would be ready to start. For many it would be a very short, sleepless night.
The fist stage of the race starts in true La Ruta fashion. A mile into the course, cyclists are greeted with the ascent to Carara National Park, which climbs 2100 feet in 8 miles. And that is just the appetizer of what is ahead. From Carara the trail roller-coasters and traverses a series of rivers, some chest-deep. Few realize that the last of these rivers is precisely the Río Grande de Tárcoles, where we had taken our crocodile photos the previous day. From the vast beaches of this river the real climbing begins: 2400 feet in 10 miles to Grifo Alto. As a rare respite to the riders, this year the ascent was on a paved road. The previous year, the climb to Grifo Alto followed a steep, narrow, endless slippery trail, which left half of the field out of the race and sent many participants straight to San José's hospitals, exhausted and dehydrated. After reaching Grifo Alto the riders still have 15 miles of tough terrain ahead of them before the finish line at the El Rodeo natural preserve.
It was at El Rodeo where I was able to say hello and talk at leisure for the first time with both new and old acquaintances. Sprawled under a tree, shivering, I found Tinker Tico. As the nickname implies, he is a Costa Rican, Tinker Juárez look-alike and a La Ruta regular. We chatted for a bit, I lent him my wind jacket and went to grab some food. At the table I sat by American ex-bike messenger and singlespeed fiend Rich Dillen (AKA "Dicky") who was wolfing down a plate of pasta and, as per usual, stressing over whether he would be able to make it to the hotel in time for happy hour. Some did make it in time, some didn't, especially those who got lost that day. As a matter of fact, one of the idiosyncrasies of La Ruta is the minimalist and wavering signage criteria; as a result, it's not rare to see large groups of riders take the wrong turn. Those who do and later appeal indignantly to the organizers are always met with the same answer: "This is La Ruta. Sharpen up." I myself arrived to the hotel just in time to go out for an early, teetotaler's dinner with polyglot European pros Thomas Dietsch, Sandro Spaeth and Thomas Zahnd.
The second stage of La Ruta was completely new and had been added this year to celebrate La Ruta's 15th anniversary. On paper, the itinerary didn't look particularly inviting: lots of miles on asphalt and a finish at a shopping mall. But this is Costa Rica and appearances are deceiving. The stage, in fact, was a succession of grueling climbs and treacherous descents. On the first long downhill of the day, I was passed by La Ruta's founder and director, Román Urbina. A few yards in front of me his KTM motorbike skidded and bucked him right off the seat. Román took a nasty fall, breaking his left leg under the knee. I stopped to help and, as he waited in agony for the medics, he gave me a valuable tip: "Go to La Carpintera. That's the place where you will take the best photographs this year." So I hopped on an ATV and went straight there. La Carpintera was the last climb of the day and it started with a long, non-cyclable hill full of slippery, broken rocks. Then the route meandered through a boggy hillside culminating in a long, steep, muddy trench that pointed towards the sky and whose top was plugged by an 8-foot semi-vertical wall that riders were supposed to clamber over somehow. I got there minutes before anyone had passed and got my camera ready. Lico Ramírez, one of the strongest Costa Rican riders and four-time La Ruta champion, was the first rider to show up, walking briskly with his bike on his back. A quarter of an hour later his compatriot Paolo Montoya passed, pushing his mud-caked hardtail. By the time the bulk of the competitors arrived to La Carpintera the terrain had become badly trodden and waterlogged and a true mud pit had formed at the top of the climb and just below the final muddy wall. At this point the riders, stuck thigh-deep in gooey mud, struggled to find the leverage they needed to lift their bikes over their heads or to get themselves out of the pit and over the top. A traffic jam of exhausted riders started to form, so I stopped being a photographer and became a bicycle-hauler, a hand-puller and a butt-pusher. I learned there and then that a state-of-the-art carbon fiber bike can weigh more than 40lbs. if enough Costa Rican clay sticks to it. After this Pit of Death, there came a few waist-deep puddles before the trail plummeted down the mountain. It was a short but dangerous, non-rideable, downhill. At the bottom of the hill the trail suddenly emerged from the depths of the rainforest and, as if a spell had been broken, the athletes were presented with the surrealist vision of the finish line at the TerraMall shopping center.
I entered the mall, leaving a trail of mud, and walked pass Quiznos, Cinnabon, KFC, Taco Bell, McDonald's, Subway, Pizza Hut and Burger King before recoiling in horror. As I stepped back outside I bumped into Dax Jaikel, a Costa Rican amputee mountain biker. Dax was run over by a truck in 2003 while training with his road bike and had to have his right leg amputated below the knee. However that didn't stop his cycling career. He is a very strong rider who has completed La Ruta, the TransRockies and the TransAlps. Dax told me that he wasn't taking part in this year's La Ruta because an airline had lost his luggage in the summer, along with the prosthetic carbon-fiber leg he specifically uses for bike riding. It took two months for the airline to locate his lost bags, and when he finally got his leg back, it was too late to train for La Ruta. I could sense the disappointment behind his beaming smile, but I'm sure we'll see him taking part in other adventure races later this year.
Another charismatic figure that I saw that day was Heart Akerson. This bearded, long-haired, 58-year-old physicist has finished every stage of every edition of La Ruta since 1998. Several of his nine children also race in La Ruta regularly and he is looking forward to his four grandsons taking part as well. Every year, rain or shine, Heart wears exactly the same outfit: cutoff jeans, sandals, naked torso, and a knife hanging from his belt.
The third stage of La Ruta is an old classic: the volcano climb. Hardly a mile into the stage the trail starts climbing towards the Irazu volcano (11,259ft.) As the race gains altitude it gets foggy and cold and many riders are seen desperately begging for newspapers and garbage bags. Even Heart covered his naked torso with a garbage bag this year. Dicky took this fad to a new level by trying to put on a garbage bag that was not empty. At San Gregorio, at 9,875 feet of altitude, the course stops climbing and begins to skirt the slopes of the adjacent, rumbling Turrialba volcano (10,958ft.) before literally plunging towards the coffee-growing area of Aquiares. In the last 13 miles the course loses 6,500 feet of elevation. This endless downhill has mud, ruts and slippery rocks the size of shoe-boxes. It beats up riders and machines and is sometimes described as being physically harder than the climb itself. It was here that Jeremiah Bishop fell in 2006 and literally broke his face. This year, as usual, bloody shins, shattered handlebars, burnt-out brake pads and ruined disc rotors were common sights at the finish line.
In Aquiares I had the pleasure to bumping into Alejandro Oporta, one of the traditional heroes of La Ruta. This 44-year-old Costa Rican mountain biker had his right arm amputated after being run over by a car. How he manages to ride the technical Costa Rican trails with only one arm has always mystified me. Both brakes on his bike are operated with the left lever, but he must let go of the handlebar and reach over to the right in order to switch gears. Alejandro receives no disability pension and works as a construction worker. He was able to take part in the previous edition of La Ruta thanks to his sponsors: "Banco Nacional and God Almighty," in his own words. This is funny, because, coincidentally, his race number at the time was 666. Unfortunately this year his sponsors—at least the former—flaked on him and he was unable to afford the entry fee. I found him at the finish line, morose but smiling shyly. He had scanned a magazine article I had written on him the previous year and made himself a T-shirt with the text and photo on his chest. I was moved. "I dream of having a lighter bike some day. Maybe a Cannondale, because I am, too, a lefty," he said in reference to Cannondale's famous one-armed suspension fork. I really wish that someone would sponsor Alejandro so that La Ruta can have one of its most inspiring riders back on board.
Aquiares is also the hometown of Diego Quirós, a strong Costa Rican deaf-mute mountain biker. Diego cannot hear approaching vehicles and has been run over several times while training. His friends got him a small blue sign depicting an ear with a slash through it, which he hangs from his saddle. Unfortunately this has not proven enough of a talisman: Diego showed me a 6-inch scar on his right thigh caused by a recent close encounter with a car and which left him out of this year's La Ruta.
In Aquiares I also chatted with Alejandra Carvajal, one of the several Costa Rican female riders taking part in La Ruta. She's very young but already showing a lot of strength. Alejandra finished third overall, right behind Susan Haywood and three-time La Ruta winner Louise Kobin.
The fourth and final stage of La Ruta climbs out of the Aquiares valley and descends towards the Caribbean coast, following a semi-abandoned railroad track—originally built by the infamous United Fruit Company—and finishing at Playa Bonita, near the busy port city of Limón. The challenges of this stage are the humid heat of the coastal swamps and the pounding suffered while riding over the railroad ties. Riders who are afraid of heights meet their nemesis at several trestle bridge crossings, balancing themselves and their bikes over oily ties, some of which are rotten or missing. This year, overcast skies and occasional torrential rains eliminated the heat factor. But flooding at some fords forced the organizers to re-route the course and added 9 miles to an already long stage (83 miles total). Added spice came in the form of a freight train, which, apparently unaware that a race was going on, came charging full-speed towards the Reventazón bridge, the longest and most spectacular of the bridges that La Ruta traverses. Fortunately, some farmers and journalists realized what was going on and were able to alert the conductor, who brought the train to a screeching stop a just a few yards before the bridge. At the time about 30 riders were crossing the bridge over the fast, churning waters of the Reventazón River. An ugly situation had been avoided in the nick of time.
At Playa Bonita, some riders celebrated finishing La Ruta with tears, others with laughter, many with both. Seated behind several empty bottles of Imperial beer I found Manuel "Doñas," La Ruta's ultimate jinx. Manuel is a strong, sinewy cyclist, but also a chain smoker and a subscriber of Spanish underground hemp-grower's magazine Cáñamo. Supposedly Manuel finances his entry fee by selling pendants and key-chains shaped like mountain bikes that he carves out of coconut shells. However, every year for the last five, some accident has prevented him from actually taking part in the race. Last year he broke several fingers in a crash and this year he gave himself third-degree burns on the right calf with the exhaust pipe of his dirt bike. "Well, maybe next year," he said, philosophically. I toasted to that, grabbed my beer and went over to talk to Tinker Juárez, who at 46 years old, rode a splendid Ruta, always at the top and finishing 5th overall. Tinker had recently been the father of a baby son and told me that he looked forward to reaching his 50th birthday fully active in competition. It's no surprise that Tinker is the most loved foreign athlete in La Ruta.
Thus ended another edition of La Ruta. For many it had been a terrific adventure and for many more also a journey of self-discovery and personal growth. It is interesting to see how Americans are often the ones that enjoy and benefit the most from experiences like La Ruta de los Conquistadores. When they come to Costa Rica for adventure, few of them suspect that they are following, backwards, another ancient conquistador's route; one that took other adventurers from Central America to the heartland of the United States five centuries ago. In the early 1500s, Francisco Vázquez de Coronado, the uncle of the first governor of Costa Rica, shipwrecked in the Florida coast and traveled, alone, throughout the southeast of what would become the United States for eight years before he was able to make it back to the Spanish colonies. Later on, he set out to search for Quivira and Cibola, two of the mythical Seven Cities of Gold. His party started over land from New Spain—what now is Mexico, named the Colorado River, explored the Grand Canyon, crossed Texas and Oklahoma and reached the confluence of the Kansas and Missouri rivers. This was almost three hundred years before the first English-speaking pioneers arrived in this area.
What would these conquistadors think of our times? Today, the most remote corners of the world can be Google-Earthed and scrutinized from the screen of our laptops and iPhones. No need to hack, wade, climb or trudge. No myths to debunk, no blank maps to fill in. We travel over the clouds, sipping gin-and-tonics and reading catalogues for sky-malls. We cover in a matter of minutes, distances that took months, sometimes years, to conquer. But of course we, too, face the discomforts of travel. We whine at the ritual removal of shoes at the airport's security check-point and cringe at the sight of boxed latex gloves on the counter, while guards with beefy forearms search our bags—hopelessly—for deadly box-cutters. We stuff our faces with vitamins to avoid catching the dreaded plane flu and pop melatonin pills against jet-lag. Once we reach our destination, we live under the permanent fear of non-bottled water, of anti-American sentiments, of real and imaginary guerrillas, and of other manifestations of the evil Hydras that lurk beyond the borders of America, according to Fox News. And lest we dare to venture beyond the resorts, we protect ourselves with mosquito nets, sunscreen and snake-proof boots, so that we can safely photograph semi-naked children and barefoot locals who saunter through the jungle, strangely oblivious to the multiple dangers listed in our Lonely Planet guidebook.
It's sad, but the word adventure has become devaluated and overused. A term often confined to the marketing spiel of outdoor brands, travel agencies and energy drink commercials. Adventure today, like almost everything else, has become an object of consumption. However, the word "adventure" somehow still resonates in the human spirit with such a formidable and ancient power that, the instant we hear it, it awakes in us the irresistible yearning to fathom the unknown, the untamed and the uncontrollable. The urge, in sum, to explore and map out the limits of our own existence.
And this is precisely the main appeal of La Ruta de los Conquistadores. Like a rusty Spanish conquistador helmet found in a North Dakota cave, it reminds us that the world used to be—and perhaps still could be—a place open to discovery. A place full of natural wonder, perilous yet exhilarating. A world that National Geographic and "Animal Planet" will never be able to encapsulate within the diminishing limits of a plasma TV and the stereo sound of a voice-over with British accent.
They keep it real in Costa Rica. For how long this will continue I don't know. Probably not too long. But as of today, in La Ruta you can get really lost, dehydrated, break all your teeth, and get run over by a train. No bright orange sign with block letters will warn you of this and no lawsuit will make your heirs rich. Thank God for la Ruta and those who keep it wild, cruel and wonderful. I know where I will be next November. I hope to see you there.
Detailed stage facts and race results can be found at www.adventurerace.com.
| Exclusive Dirt Rag Web-Only Extras For La Ruta de los Conquistadores | We received the following press release about the same time that we were working on this story:
(June 23, 2008)
For Immediate Release
No doped racers in La Ruta 07'
For the second year in a row, the doping tests collected during the four stages of the 2007's La Ruta de los Conquistadores resulted all negative.
Costa Rican Doping Commissaries controlled 20 racers over the past edition of La Ruta, which is the only MTB multi-stages race in the country that applies this kind of controls.
The Costa Rican Cycling Federation (FECOCI) communicated the final results to the organizers last week, after several months of waiting.
"We are now allowed to release the prizes to the Top 5 finishers in each category. We are going to deliver more than $25,000 USD in both cash and gifts prizes; such as several amazing Fox Shox", said PR Director, Luis Rueda.
Besides, the winners in all 5 categories have won a free entry to this year's La Ruta, which is held for November 12-15.
The tests were analyzed at the Madrid Laboratory, in Spain, which is the UCI's approved institute responsible for all the Costa Rican Cycling Federation's controls.
"I guess the time was finally worth it. We don't know why it took almost five months for them to examine and send out the results, but the important thing here is that all the racers that were tested turned out to be clean once again; all of them, local and non-local guys", added Race Director, Diego Víquez.
Last year's winner, Costa Rican Federico Ramírez, has now total green light to represent the country at the XCO, at the Olympics, next August.
Other 2007's champions were:
Open Women: Susan Haywood (Trek-Volkswagen) USA
Master A Men: William Valverde (Vedoba y Obando) CRC
Master B Men: Mike Charuk (Team Whistler) CAN
Veterans Men: Sandy Mitchell (Gerick Cycle Nelson) CAN |
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| Comment from Juan Carlos on 2008-11-05 |
| I will be there this year for my first La Ruta. I knew Alejamdro Oporta running the Guanaride this years and I want a tell you, this man in amazing! |
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| Comment from Manuel Maqueda on 2008-10-01 |
| Hello. I am Manuel Maqueda, the author of this article. I wanted to clarify that Rich Dillen AKA Dicky is in fact an active bike messenger, and not an ex-bike messenger, as I wrote in the article by mistake. My apologies to Dicky for this early retirement! |
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| Comment from Alex Salas Muril on 2008-09-23 |
| Thanks to DirtRag for writing about my country,Costa Rica y La Ruta,Im taken DirtRag to Costa Rica and share with friends. |
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| Comment from Lockwood on 2008-09-17 |
| I like this! |
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| Comment from Jeff Cote on 2008-09-17 |
| Done it 3 times. Hated every minute of it.
But, it leaves this nasty stain on the brain that awakes around September. Then you find yourself signing up for it.
Not this year though, I need a break. Maybe next.
Keep it solo folks (I heard it may be going team approach, yuk). This race is meant to swear alone! Has a bit of everything. Even crocs! |
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| Comment from Trev on 2008-09-14 |
| Great article, I was one of the guys on that bridge and did'nt think that train was going to stop!!! |
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| Comment from Scott Nichols on 2008-09-02 |
| This is one of the best articles I've read in Dirt Rag in a while. I really enjoyed it. I got a kick out of the theme park comment regarding CA trails.. LOL |
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| Comment from Steven Rule on 2008-08-28 |
| I finished the beast in 2007 for my first time, WOW!
This article was spot on! |
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| Comment from Carlos on 2008-08-18 |
| Excellent article specially the last three paragraphs. |
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| Comment from Jason Puett on 2008-08-15 |
| Wonderful article, perfect example of great journalism, inspiring. Just wish I was capable of doing the race. |
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