Events: Tour of the Catskills 2023
(2023) There are tales in history of ill-fated expeditions seeking northern adventure. Some of those adventures were rife with unheeded warning signs. My experience with the 2023 Tour of the Catskills felt like I should have paid attention to warning signs before climbing atop the bike and heading out to try Devil’s Kitchen for a sixth time.
You see, weeks ago, I was on the fence about riding the Tour of the Catskills, a fondo based in the eastern Catskills town of Tannersville, NY. Each event I had participated in since the start of 2023 I either rode the short version or shortened the course myself on account of an injury. Further, I wanted to add new miles - if I were to start the Tour of the Catskills, I planned to do the fifty-mile course to see some twenty miles of new tarmac. That is, until I fired a message to Eric asking whether he wanted to join.
As luck would have it, Eric’s eligibility aligned perfectly with the event. Instead of riding the fifty-mile though, he insisted on the seventy-mile to make the three-hour trip worth it. Reluctantly I signed up for the long route, and suddenly Devil’s Kitchen once again stood squarely in my way of cycling enjoyment. No matter. If I summited the officially- named Platte Clove Road, my success rate would jump to 50% of riding up without walking.
Preparations were made for the long route for Eric and myself. But then his responses went silent the night before. Thinking he was so excited that he actually went to bed early, I proceeded as normal with a bedtime routine and early wake-up. The next morning, I was ahead of schedule. Eric was not to be heard from. Eventually he reached out to say he had the stomach flu of sorts, that he was trying to gear up, that he just needed a few more minutes, but ultimately - and uncharacteristically - Eric pulled the plug on his Tour of the Catskills, leaving me heading into the upstate New York mountain range solo. I had originally planned to go alone, so this was no major warning sign to me.
The drive up was without issue as I mulled the idea to revert back to the fifty-mile route. The problem involved the fact I had paid for the seventy-mile route. I could either break off and do the fifty-mile route, regret not doing Devil’s Kitchen and sulk the whole way home. Or, I could do the seventy-mile option, attempt Devil’s Kitchen solo (which would put me squarely at odds with a forecasted storm at that time), possibly not summit without walking, and sulk the whole way home. My single concern involved only having the long route stored on my Garmin.
The mysterious outcome of a bat having been struck in the early morning and somehow getting lodged behind the bottle cage.
Having arrived for registration, I got out of the team car with an air of indifference. No sooner did I reach for the bike on the roof rack, than I realized a major omen: at some point in my drive, the bike was struck by a bat, and it was still attached. Would this be the albatross? Would I be the Ancient Mariner? With minimal options to deal with a clearly deceased bat, I removed the sticky carcass from the frame and poured rubbing alcohol on the seat tube. Immediately commencing whistling as if nothing happened, I rode to registration. Riders were lined up for the seventy-mile, and it was here I proclaimed the decision to reroute to the fifty-mile distance. Yet when I announced my name, I was told my online registration happened too late, and that I would not receive a number plate, nor would I immediately receive a t-shirt. Suddenly warning signs were inventoried.
Returning to the team car/ crime scene, I geared up with the expectation of a relaxing day out because of the Devil’s Kitchen omission. The parking area at Rip van Winkle Lake was quiet, probably from nature aghast at the grisly scene I had just created. Having dressed for the ride, water bottles full up with Skratch, and messages sent to the team back home, I meandered to the starting banner where I unceremoniously passed under and continued on down to Main Street to start my 2023 Tour of the Catskills under cloudy skies. Surely the warning signs were over now that I was on the bike.
The Tour of the Catskills starts in the town of Tannersville and happily speeds mostly downhill along route 23A past Hunter Mountain Resort. The segment finally ends the twenty-mile drag race in the town of Prattsville where the Tour’s climbing would start. I found myself collecting one or two participants before settling into a rotation with one other rider, a fast pedaler atop a Giant Propel. The state road of 23A was busy for the Tour of the Catskills. Either there were numerous dropped riders from the long course or other cyclists/ teams happened to be in the area. Sure enough, when it came time to turn abruptly onto Washington Street in Prattsville, my pacing buddy continued on without hesitation. We never talked, so it’s a mystery as to whether he carried on or simply missed his turn.
A quick snap of Hunter Mountain Resort while starting the Tour of the Catskills 2023. This is from route 23A, a mostly downhill affair into Prattsville.
Having ridden this event for the fifth time, a new observation came to light: many teams rented houses along the route for the Tour of the Catskills. The first indication came atop the climb of Washington Street where it changes names to County Road 10. Cyclists were stopping at houses with several people gathered on the front lawn. This scenario would play out several more times along the route. County Road 10 would be the place where I solidified my decision to step away from the long route. At the marked intersection, I dove hard right down Mitchell Hollow Road where I expected a downhill coast to the finish on new roads. Though we were at 2,000 feet elevation, the highest point of the course had still not arrived. While on County Road 10, a second new observation came in the form of neutral moto support being ever-present. There would be at least two mechanicals along this section alone.
The roads back to Tannersville, NY, utilizing the fifty-mile return route were unique but oh so worth it. Mitchell Hollow Road reinforced the belief that it was all downhill to Tannersville. The road was quite populated with houses. Numerous places were replacing their roofs on this day. Few cyclists were seen along this section. I was sure I was the first to come through for the fifty-mile course.
The opening miles on 23A were spent with this rider atop a Giant Propel who took monster pulls. He continued on past the turn onto Washington Street.
There was this persistent disbelief any time a significant climb entered the view. Having passed through the Euro-chic town of Windham, “the gem of the Catskills," with nothing but downhill coasting, little nubs of climbing were dismissed as necessary evils. It was the two-mile climb out of Windham that caught me off guard, especially when nearly two switchbacks produced a small number of walking cyclists. It was at this point I decided to start respecting the shorter course as I did the long route. This particular climb was followed by the last significant uphill, a two-mile affair that sent the route to its highest point at 2,400 feet. It would truly be all downhill into Tannersville after that. A quick couple of turns past Rip Van Winkle Lake, and I was back at the start/ finish area. Somehow the whole ride went off without an issue. I even managed to ride the entire course without a rest stop visit.
The weirdness would return immediately. No sooner had I crossed the line, than a volunteer gave me a finisher medal. I inquired about extra t-shirts and he produced one. I was excited. But I became confused when a rider crossed the line only to be pursued by a man with a phone camera gimbal. Thinking it was all a bit of humor, I really lost my mind when the man with the gimbal cranked up patriotic music and seriously handed a microphone to the rider who went right into a post-ride interview. At this point I was under the belief the day was screwing with me.
Having stashed my bat-bike and newly acquired Tour of the Catskills t-shirt, I decided to head to Last Chance Tavern. I slid into a bar seat, drank off a celebratory beer, inhaled a post-ride burger, and made my way out of Tannersville. Last Chance Tavern was bursting at the seams for the first time in my patronage, a good sign for the restaurant and the town of Tannersville.
The Tour of the Catskills route offers numerous panoramic views like this one atop Washington Street/ County Road 10.
I got the pulse of the Tour of the Catskills by not pursuing the flying mass start of the seventy-mile ride. The twenty-mile route peeled off early along route 23A. I missed out on the scorching road into Durham used by the long course. Yet it was my goal to add some new miles. Sure I missed riding with Eric, but in a pinch, this worked. According to Wandrer, I added nearly twenty miles of new road because of my route selection. Without it, I would not have seen Windham Mountain Ski Area, a castle at an intersection, and the differences amongst small Catskills towns. The less competitive crowd was welcoming and cheerful. Meanwhile the volunteers at the intersections were asking if I were leading the group, to see if they needed to gear up.
When in the Catskills, I insist on visiting Circle W in Palenville. This general store offers sandwiches, beverages, dry goods, and tables to sit at to take a break from driving or cycling.
I left the Tour of the Catskills with no major accolades. I had not bested my Devil’s Kitchen PR. I had only one PR according to Strava, a forgettable stretch measuring .18 of a mile. What I gained was a strengthened perspective of the Catskills. Even though the park is only 700,000 square acres, the personalities of the places are unique. This continued on display as I commenced my drive home. The swimming holes were overflowing with city visitors cooling off in the pools and waterfalls. The general store shelves were relatively bare, no doubt having been cleaned out by travelers since Friday. Many private houses looked like they were in the process of being converted to AirBnBs. The final two billboards before getting onto I87 advertised fentanyl nasal sprays.
The Tour of the Catskills provides such a unique experience for me. It’s far but not too far. It’s rural but not rustic. It’s a vast unfolding route but not isolated. It’s worth a visit but most travelers opt to continue through to Troy or the Adirondacks. My thoughts turned to this on the drive home. What does the Tour of the Catskills mean to me? It’s an event that whisks me down country roads with enough touch of civilization to let me know I will come back. There are challenging climbs. After all, the Catskills are a mountainous region. But there are enjoyable flat, wide downhill miles to feel like a Grand Tour rider. The route beckons riders to come back in autumn when the leaves are aglow.
Luckily my northern expedition did not come to a calamity. I did not resort to wearing the bat around my neck to reverse its omen. As with any year, I longed to ride the Tour of the Catskills with someone, but the calendar - and stomach bugs - said otherwise. Once returning to the creakybottombracket.com office, I noticed an old cycling buddy had also ridden the Tour of the Catskills. He summited Devil’s Kitchen even faster than I ever have on his first attempt. I was lucky enough to identify the person whose day went as planned. Perhaps that’s an omen should I find myself at the lower slopes of Devil’s Kitchen in 2024.
