09/29/2026
Our Methow hero Brig Seidl has been honored for his VICIOUS determination and perpetual self punishment! Here is his report:
Ahoy there esteemed cycling cognoscenti, Lieutenant Seidl here reporting from the field. The latest skirmish being the “Twisp River Rambler” this past weekend and once again I was forced to go into battle completely alone. Not a teammate in sight to protect my flank or take a short pull on my behalf. Tsk!
This was the 6th and final round of the uber-prestigious Vicious Cycle Gran Fondo series that has been running continuously since 2008 and is loosely based on the real European monuments of cycling with the first several rounds in spring and then the final one in fall – just like Paris/Roubaix and Il Lombardia. It all started with just Gran Fondo Ephrata those many years ago but is now a robust 6 rounds spread across Eastern Washington between March and September. Cycling historians will be hip to the fact that the “Twisp River Rambler” was originally the “Gran Fondo Winthrop” but that course killed too many unwary participants – even the 2nd generation “easier” course – so the good folk at Vicious Cycle moved the whole event slightly down valley to Twisp 3 years ago where Jake laid out a more humane course. The fatalities plummeted and all seemed right in the world. But then, when nobody was looking, Jake surreptitiously slipped an additional huge climb into the Twisp course this year bringing the total elevation to about 9,000 feet. You can’t just “sneak” an extra 2,000 feet of climbing into an event that that is already familiar. People will notice. Democrats will complain.
Another feature that was added to the already ridiculously prestigious series 3 years ago was the advent of the GRIT List. This iconic list separates the crème de la crème from the mere crème. Obviously to finish a single Vicious Cycle Gran Fondo would be a lifetime achievement for most cyclists. To complete two or three, well that would be crazy. The GRIT list acknowledges and celebrates those bulletproof souls who complete all six events in a single season. And if you somehow achieve this monumental feat you will be awarded a classy plaid flannel shirt mimeographed with “The GRIT List” in leather on the breast pocket. Wear that shirt in public and respectable men will doff their hats and bow slightly when you pass and attractive ladies will blow you kisses and flirt shamelessly. Permit me to tell you something friendly in your ear; the bonus structure in the standard Ridge Cyclesport contract also pays big at the year end Christmas party if your name is on the GRIT list. How can Evan afford such extravagance? Easy. Only one team member has ever accomplished the deed.
Think! Poor ole Evan laid up with a shattered femur wanting nothing more than to see his team’s colors represented in profusion at the region’s biggest races. And you sitting at home watching football! Don’t break his heart as well.
The day before the event autumn arrived with a crash bringing torrential rain and a big drop in temperature but it turned out to be a boon as it produced perfect conditions on race day. Meandering the pits I was once again struck by the sheer number of bike brands I’d never even heard of. Opus? Open? Otso? What happened to Raleigh and Schwinn? Where am I? Where are my meds? Without even realizing it I’m becoming a dinosaur almost by osmosis.
The race starts right downtown in Twisp Park, crosses Highway 20 and – surprise! Goes directly up a humongous hill! This is the fearsome Poorman Creek Rd climb up to Black Pine Lake, a route originally laid out by FDR’s CCC during the depression. Times were so bad then that they could only afford to put a single switchback in the entire climb so it’s a pretty aggressive grade. I got to exchange a few words with my old pal Caleb Ambrose before he floated by like helium. Was also immediately dropped by Brad Thompson and Sabrina Hirsch who were also sporting the coveted yellow number plates. Indeed the large majority of the peloton once again rode away from me within the first 10 minutes of the race. A lesser man would be demoralized.
Upon summitting we were directed down the 12 mile long Libby Creek Rd where, despite my once legendary descending abilities, a few more people rattled by including a woman in tennis shoes and platform pedals. I noticed that she, like a lot of folks nowadays, was riding what was essentially a mountain bike with drop bars, probably an Opus. I consoled myself with the thought that she would quickly come back once we hit the flats or started climbing again but as it turned out that thought was misplaced; there were no flats and like so many women she never came back.
There actually was a very short flattish section along Highway 153 to the Gold Creek Rd but I was too busy trying to cram in some calories to appreciate it. This was also the only section where I had company for more than a few seconds all day as I rode these couple miles with Ben Miller of Bellingham who was rhapsodizing about the beauty of the Methow. Solid chap Ben.
Jake had warned us that the Gold Creek climb was a bruiser and I’ve come to learn over the past 15+ years that Jake doesn’t tend to exaggerate. The damn thing had no respite! It was just a continuous steep, interminable, pitch. How he thought he could sneak that new climb into the course without anyone noticing is beyond me. And once you reached the top you were not actually back at Black Pine Lake, no. You descended a few miles, some pretty sweet descending I must confess, and were deposited back on Libby Creek Rd about 2/3 of the way up the 12 mile climb – right before the really steep section!
So it was a pretty gassed B. Seidl who eventually limped into the aid station at Black Pine Lake. I saw willowy climber Bryn Mayo there as well as Roger Burton and Carlos Romero arrived seconds after me but I departed before all of them. Hooray I just passed 3 people!
The downhill on Buttermilk Rd was the certifiable goods but you had to keep your wits about you as the road, though nominally paved, was littered with craters that were best avoided at the 35 mph you were going. Soon enough we were on the good asphalt of Twisp River Rd where Roger took the opportunity to re-pass me for good. And all too soon we were at the base of the Thompson Ridge Rd where boom! My left inner thigh exploded in cramps and I was forced to dismount and walk for a few minutes. Shortly after remounting Bryn glided back past me as I settled into a dirge-like pace trying to keep the cramps at bay. This climb felt way longer than I remembered from previous years and I suffered more on this one than the previous, steeper ones. And, man, the gravel was about a foot deep towards the bottom of the descent on the other side causing me an anxious moment where I couldn’t turn and damn near wrapped myself around a tree. But, whew, made it! Was pedaling peacefully along Patterson Lake Rd with pleasant thoughts of the finish line in my head when that damnable hellhound Carlos Romero flew by and scared me out of my wits with a friendly greeting. Dang! Where did he come from? But a quick trip over Elbow Coulee Rd, which was insanely smooth for the climb up to Pine Forest, and we were deposited back on Twisp River Rd and all that was left was 4 miles into a headwind to the finish and the inevitable accolades that accompany GRIT Listers.
A special shout out to 63 year old Sara Graham from Gig Harbor who completed all 6 Gran Fondos this year. When I met her on the start line my first thought was, hoo boy, this poor lady doesn’t know what she’s in for. I figured she must be one of those strong but misguided women who think they can do anything. No challenge is too much for them. No lost cause too hopeless. No social condition too irredeemable or human outcast too unsavable. They can do it, fix it, solve it! At first acquaintance I did not recognize these traits in Sara but by sundown that day she proved she belonged amongst the Joan of Arcs, Mother Theresas, and Phyllis Benish’s of the world. Chapeau.
