Emily and I raced Ascend Armenia as a pair this summer, and while almost nothing about it went to plan, we had a lovely time. Armenia is such a beautiful and friendly place - and current events have reminded me of how Armenia continues to prove itself one of the most resilient places in the world.
We chose this race in large part because it was described in (all capital letters) RIDEABLE. Spoiler alert: it was not. In fact, it made Silk Road Mountain Race seem fairly easy in comparison. (Please note - a lot of effort and love went into planning/organizing this race and I am not criticising the wonderful crew who put this together - it was an inaugural event. While the reality was a little frustrating and disappointing, I'm not mad or anything).
Although Ascend Armenia had substantially more climbing per mile than SRMR, and required more miles per day than SRMR to finish in time for the finisher party, Emily and I figured that if the road surface was "rideable," we would manage ok. With our experience at SRMR as our guide, Emily and I had a solid plan to keep moving, sleep very little, and keep moving. We both packed much lighter than we have previously and were fit enough to finish.
DAY 1 (35.43 miles/13:40 elapsed time (about 50 miles behind "schedule"))
The race started in the main square in the Armenian capital of Yerevan. The race was a big deal, and governement officials made speeches and such. I cannot recall when it was supposed to start but we started late on a hot late June morning. I had not realized that my Garmin was rejecting the race route so we were reliant on Emily to navigate. Day 1 was replete with navigational issues, so it would have probably been helpful to Emily if I were better prepared that day. The first day was also a long long climb, and very hot. I usually do fine in the heat but I was feeling pretty unwell. Essentially, this began the theme of me being proverbial cement blocks on Emily's feet.
Eventually we got pretty high and were navigating through double track that may or may not have matched the GPS route. Shepherds make and abandon roads each year, so we were told to just use common sense in these areas. We did our best but lost quite a bit of time trying to figure out where we were supposed to go. It was beautiful, however. All of the shepherd camps are guarded by very aggressive and very large dogs, so that's fun. Fortunately, the stray city dogs were the opposite and were sweet.
We finally threw our bivies on the ground and tried to sleep around 11:00 p.m. We were near 10,000 feet and it was cold. We shivered in our bivies sleeplessly until 4:00 a.m. and got up, made coffee, and headed out to start making up for how woefully behind "schedule" we already were. We weren't panicking though because we likened it to the first day of SRMR where Jiptik Pass threw off our schedule. It didn't matter in the end but I knew we *could* have caught up at SRMR if we had only been as experienced and informed as we now were in Armenia. Day 2 would be a lot of downhil so no problem. Note that I'm including elapsed time not riding time - my Garmin seems to count pushing as not doing anything at all so "riding time" isn't very accurate in terms of time on the go.
DAY 2 - (52.82 miles/18:12 elapsed time and no chance of finishing)
We were riding by 5:00 a.m. and anxious to make up the distance needed to finish. It was still cold so we started the morning in our sleep cozies and down coats. We continued to probably walk in circles and followed the route to a section that made no sense to us. I think there was a special view but to our minds it was a side junket that ate a considerable amount of our morning. When we finally completed the climb, it continued to be slow going. Why we imagined we would suddenly be on a faster rolling road or something I've no clue. But this day had some really very steep climbs and was not condusive to making up a lot of miles or even riding the bare minimum average number of miles.
Looking at my photos I do recall there were some road sections that were rideable. Yet, we made meager progress on the route. We did roll that night into a small village with a shop where another racer from Belarus caught us. He was riding in Crocs and seemed very nice, so we were fine when he decided to escort us to Areni, a wine town where we would not be drinking wine. After some tired confusion, we found a guesthouse and slept about 4 hours before rallying for another day.
DAY 3 (58.61 miles/13:59 elapsed time)
The ride out of Areni was, in fact, rideable. Emily was having some bike issues that ate into the day, but who cares we were so behind already. We had a pretty lovely day that I don't entirely remember, which included a long paved descent that was very beautiful and took us into a canyon which led to the first checkpoint in Jermuk, a very pretty ski town. Maybe a mile up the nice road headed to Jermuk, Emily stopped abruptly and explained excitedly CRAB! I looked at the crab but not Emily and crashed right into her. I fell in some way that I can't recall but that made my wrist hurt very badly - like throw up badly. I had a sickening rush of adrenaline and tried to wait it out until the pain went away and I could keep riding. The pain eventually subsided but I couldn't get on my bike. I couldn't put even the smallest amount of weight on it. We still had 12 miles to Jermuk. The road looked glorious - the kind of riding you live for. Alas, Emily and I walked 12 miles Jermuk with our bikes. I dug into my ultramarathon experience, where slow miles are common and require a heightened level of zen. Emily had that in spades, but also had to dig into her patience reserves as she felt fine and I f-ed everything up.
Emily was such a good sport. And very patient and kind. I must have done something really special in a former life to deserve a friend like this. She would have been in her rights to just leave me. But of course she wouldn't do that because she's my friend.
We rolled into Jermuk around 1:00 a.m., exactly the time we anticipated, and were greeted by our Belarussian friend and a new Russian friend with a charceuterie type spread with nuts, amazing apricots, lavash, and waters.
DAY 4 - ZERO DAY
I figured I just neede a day to let my wrist heal (turns out it was broken though) so we took a day off and drank beer and ate ice cream. We greeted our new Australian friend Lauren as she came into CP1 and pretty much parked ourselves outside the hotel all day like old men.
Emily and I discussed our next steps and I was adamant I wanted to keep riding. I had a better splint/wrap situation and would make do. Emily convinced me that riding really rough terrain was a bad idea and noted that she would have to do a lot for me that she didn't have the bandwidth to do if we followed the race route. So, instead, we came up with a more paved route to the next town on the race route. However, despite knowing we weren't going to finish and having accepted this, not continuing on the route and having to scratch was a weirdly tougher pill to swallow. It was an official act of throwing in the towel and we did not like it not one bit. My guilt at having gutted Emily's race was pretty intense. This is the main reason I'm not so sure about racing as a pair. You are so dependent on your partner and responsible if you are the weak link. Ugh.
DAY 5 (72.01 miles/11:53 elapsed)
We left at a civil hour of the morning and begin our journey towards Martuni on Lake Sevan. My splint (made of cardboard and ice cream/popcicle sticks), to my relief, was strong enough to allow me to get on my bike. Both my friends Corinne (doc) and Shana (PT) gave me good ideas for moving forward. We just circumnavigated around a tough hike-a-bike on the race route by riding road through gorgeous landscape. Before long we were back on the race route and it was fantastic.
We enjoyed a long road climb to this silk road caravenserai, which was one of the coolest things I've ever seen in my life. Here is the wiki:
Orbelian's Caravanserai (Armenian: Օրբելյանների Քարվանսարա; also known as Sulema Caravanserai and Selim Caravanserai, Armenian: Սելիմ), is a caravanserai in the Vayots Dzor Province of Armenia. It was built along the Vardenyats Mountain Pass (also known as the Selim Mountain Pass) in 1332, by prince Chesar Orbelian to accommodate weary travelers and their animals as they crossed from, or into, the mountainous Vayots Dzor region. Located at the southern side of Vardenyats Mountain Pass at a height of 2,410 metres (7,910 ft) above sea level, Orbelian's Caravanserai is the best preserved caravanserai in the entire country.
A man let us sample his "vodka" and we purchased the most delicious fruit lavash (fruit leather) with honey and nuts. We had a wonderful day and eventually made it to Martuni on Lake Sevan. Although we appeared pretty late the proprieter whipped together a feast for us. We ate well everywhere we went. I could do a whole post just about the food. Let's just say it's phenomenal and we were never underfed.
DAY 6 (65.5 miles/10:00ish elapsed)
On this day we road around Lake Sevan to CP2, a little beachy resorty spot. The riding was fairly easy, and we sort of lollygagged our way to CP2. We stopped for a full lunch and shared a bottle of wine. Neither Emily nor I are typically into white wine, but Armenian whites are perfection. Crisp and dry.
At CP2, we were able to rent a cabin which we shared with Lauren. Lauren was going to ride the route as long as possible (as was our initial plan) and we all enjoyed some beers and revelry.
DAY 7 LAST DAY OF RIDING (38.43/4:35 elapsed)
We followed a fairly random route back to Dilijan, where the finish line was, and it varied from beautiful and amazing to confusing and weird. We tried to use that "common sense" we heard about and managed to make our way to the finish in good time. We found a great guesthouse where the owner promptly got us super drunk and found our people. The rest was vacation stuff and a great time was had.
MISCELLANEOUS
People were always giving us stuff and were so friendly. We didn't have a single negative encouter and were struck by how instinctively defensive we are. Essentially, we were probably very rude seeming at times. We are not proud of this. Assuming people are out to get you is a hard habit to break and is an unfortunate one. All told, we were offered and accepted many perfect apricots, cherries, lots of booze, and were offered but very rudely turned down an entire salted fish retrieved from the offeror's trunk. We learned refusing an offer is very bad form and feel bad in hindsight. Armenia is a beautiful country replete with a great people and rich culture. Somehow the people perservere despite the incessent violence perpetrated against them throughout history. I don't have enough good things to say about Armenia.
I think maybe a quarter to a third of the field finished, with the winner taking nearly the entire allotted week, and no women finished. Emily and I laughed that the sole "pro" woman was barely hitting our planned schedule before she scratched. If the race happens in 2024 (probably dependent on the current state of agression/horribleness against Armenia), the course should be more manageable in 2024. The organizers did not intend it to be some sort of "hardest race in the world" situation. It's possible that I'll return though it's hard to say until I see the course. I'm not sure what to do in 2024 but I do know I'm going to return to SRMR in 2025 as a 50th birthday present to myself.
