The Firehouse 50
A grand race at Grand View
By Charlie Melk Remembering where I have been and what I have been doing during the first weekend of August for the majority of the last 12 years is pretty easy. The answer, of course, is Grand View, Wis., for the Firehouse 50.
For me, it all started in 1984. I was 14 that summer, and the cycling bug was just working its way into my system. I was participating in a bicycle tour around northern Wisconsin, and we stopped in Grand View one day for our picnic lunch. I remember sitting in the park and thinking, "Man, this is a cool little town."
I liked the rollers on the way in and out of town, too. For a guy like me, who had grown up in pancake-flat
Wisconsin Rapids, the hills were nice and I always liked going up north. More than that, however, I couldn't help but notice how nice the people were. We stopped in at the general store and as we stocked up on junk food, the clerk at the store engaged us in a conversation about who we were and where we were going. The town just seemed to be pervaded with a sense of amity, and I liked it. Soon though, we were on our way toward Cable. But I never totally forgot about Grand View.
Four years later and I was back. The previous four years since I had been to Grand View saw cycling take over more and more of my time and energy, and it was good. If there had been a cycling major at my high school, I would have gotten straight A's. As it was, however, there was no such program of study. I spent almost all of my time either working on bikes at Bring's Cycle, or riding. And the weekends were usually
filled with racing. My school work suffered, but I was focused on something positive that was making me happy, so my family was very supportive.
During the first three of those four interim years between visits to Grand View, I kept hearing about this insane race up north that fielded well over 1,000 participants – without making the connection between the town I had ridden through in 1984 and a town that could support such a huge race.
My friend, Tom, who I started riding and racing with, had gone up to Grand View for several years and brought back some great stories. I can't remember why it took me so long to check it out for myself, but during the summer of 1988, I decided that it was finally time to see what all the fuss was about.
Once we got up there, I remembered the idyllic little town of my touring days, and connections were made. I was happy to be back.
The Race The first four to five miles are primarily uphill. It doesn't happen all at once, but rather in stages, all the way to the Great Divide. It's a mad rush to the top of the divide, and by the time the race hits that point, it is usually grouped into several packs. After the divide, everyone comes screaming down the other side past
Lake Namakagon and then up a pretty nasty little hill that has the potential to break things up a bit. The rest of the way to Cable is pretty flat, and the packs tend to stay intact as they have formed.
As the riders hit Cable, the halfway point of the race, the packs string out due to several tight turns and the anticipation of the narrow and winding roads on Lake Owen Drive. This road used to be very bumpy and
cobble-like, but it has been repaved and is in great shape now. I can't decide which way I like this road better, but it's easy to lean toward the cobble-like incarnation from a safe distance.
This stretch is the most exhausting of the race, as the road undulates and turns constantly. Once the riders reach Drummond, and turn off of Lake Owen Drive, they are treated to eight miles of smooth and fast
rollers all the way up to the finish. The last turn, the famed "Church Corner Turn," is a little bit tricky but adds so much to the mystique of the race. This turn is off camber and the road surface changes from relatively new pavement to old-school cheese-grater – the front pack takes this corner at around 30 mph or more so the transition is pretty hairy. In other words, never stand on the outside of the church corner turn as
a spectator. It's a short sprint after the turn, so most positions are held after the corner, making it very important tactically.
The Hook That first race was intense. Tom suggested that I petition the organizers for a preferred start, meaning a
place in the first 100 people. I did, but secretly thought that this cautionary measure was completely unnecessary. I mean, how many people could there be? Waking up rather late the next morning amidst loudspeaker announcements in the ballpark where we had camped, I scrambled out of the tent and was completely blown away by the size of the crowd. All I could think was, "How are we all going to fit on this
skinny little road?" It turns out that lobbying for a preferred start was a pretty good idea. (Thanks once again, Tom.)
As the pack pulled away for the start, I looked back and could not even see the end of the pack – it was awesome in the truest sense of the word. I was used to doing USCF races with much smaller fields – something more along the lines of between 30 to 100 participants – and this was quite an eye-opener. I
spent the whole first half of the race, all the way to Cable, just concentrating on getting to the front and staying there. Time and time again I would make it to the front only to be squeezed back 20 or 30 people – it happened just like that. Of course, the front pack was much smaller now, around 100 people, but there were a lot of good racers, people I had seen win some big USCF races elsewhere. Since we couldn't cross
the centerline, and the road was totally packed from line to line, I ended up resorting to moving up in the gravel on the right. I know, not the best idea, but I was 18!
After Cable, the pack strung out. The roads between Cable and Drummond were just brutal. Most of the bigger potholes were spray painted, but this did nothing to point out where the roots were pushing the road up into miniature walls. At one point, both of my sweat soaked hands actually popped right off the bars and
I almost smacked my chin on my stem! The pack strung out like crazy on this section, and I loved it. Finally, I was able to stay near the front. Unbeknownst to me, as I was moving toward the front of the field, a couple of riders went up the road for good – I missed the winning break. I found out about it while talking to Tom, who was also up front, just before we hit Drummond. I wanted to try to chase them down, but
Tom, knowing the course much better than I, told me it was too fast after Drummond – big tailwind and fast, smooth roads after the narrow and cobble-like brutality of Lake Owen Drive. It was not the best of conditions for an effective chase since everyone would be going pretty quick, including the break. We contented ourselves to trying to help drive a pack chase, but nobody was very interested in that either, so we just sat in and tried to maintain our positions.
That last eight miles between Drummond and Grand View went by in a blur. Most of the time the pack was traveling between 30-40 mph. To this day, I still don't know how those two guys stayed away. Several miles from the finish, I started remembering what Tom had told me about the finish – "It's scary, man ... everyone piles into that last corner, and if you're not in the top five, you're risking a crash." Once again,
heeding this sage advice, I made sure that I was toward the front without peeking my nose into the wind for more than a couple of seconds from time to time, just to see the road ahead, and hopefully the break. As I was concentrating on my position in the pack, a white and black blur shot up the road on my left. That blur turned out to be my discerning advisor, Tom, who had decided to completely disregard his own advice and
bridge the gap by himself – and it was four miles to the finish. I didn't know why he was doing it, but I was curious to see what was going to happen. Unfortunately, after getting a nice gap the pack got antsy and chased him down within a couple of miles.
Soon we could all see Grand View at the top of the last roller. As we got closer, everyone started to try to move up in the pack and it was time to defend my position. Mostly due to lots of criterium experience that
summer and the good fortune of having inordinately sharp elbows and long arms, I managed to hit the last corner in second place, and couldn't quite come around the guy in front of me. Since the break contained only two people, I ended up taking fourth place – and I was hooked for life.
The Memories The Firehouse 50 became a mainstay in my summer from that day on. We returned every year with more
and more people, and it turned out to be just as much fun for the friends who came to watch as it was for the people who raced. One year, Bring's Cycle let us use their shop van for the annual pilgrimage. Tom, who had become quite an artist at this point, elaborately painted the van with all of our faces, and all eight of us piled in, with four of us racing.
Another year, we drove up in my 1975 Ford Granada, named "The Luger" for it's unfortunate color, a very
1970s shade of light green. Right after we arrived at the ballpark to set up our tents, my brother, Andy, who had been chomping at the bit to drive my car the entire drive up to Grand View (and who, by the way, was only 15 at the time), jumped into the car and accidentally backed it up right over my gear bag, crushing my prized Giro Prolight helmet. After the obligatory fight we immediately engaged in, I looked all over the place
for a new helmet, for without one I couldn't race. Try finding a helmet at 8 p.m.on a Friday night in Grand View, Wisconsin! The next morning, I made one last effort to find a helmet before the race. Enter Skip Perkins, the man who sponsored our team and had been so generous throughout my years of racing. He literally gave me the helmet off of his head to allow me to race instead of him. What a guy! I ended up getting sixth place that year thanks to him.
After years of competing in the road race at the Firehouse 50, last year I decided to try the individual time trial over the same course as the road race. It was an incredible experience to ride on my own on the roads that I had become so accustomed to riding in a pack. In fact, it was truly a defining moment in my life. Great memories from the past decade surged up in my mind as I tired and needed them. The section through Lake
Owen Drive was so much harder on my own than I had ever realized it was in the pack, and the final eight-mile stretch into Grand View was seemingly so much simpler. I didn't have to worry about my position within the pack for the sprint. It was very uncomplicated – all I had to do was keep the hammer down and finish as fast as I could. It was racing in the purest sense.
Whenever my friends and I talk about the Firehouse 50, we simply call it Grand View. The town and the
many volunteers make this race what it is. Without fail, I always forget to preregister for the event and have to try to finagle a preferred start. And without fail, the kind folks at registration recognize me (or more likely take me at my word for someone who is "preferred-start worthy") and put me into the first 100 without any problems. From the time we arrive to the time we leave, the fine volunteers who put this race on and have
put it on for over 20 years now, constantly assist us, whether it be in registration, at the spaghetti and/or pancake feeds, or at the finish.
In short, this race is not just a circuit of roads running through northern Wisconsin called the Firehouse 50. It is Grand View, the town, too. It is the people who volunteer their time to ensure our comfort and safety before, during and after the race. This race has a heart and soul – a classic of northern Wisconsin citizen racing.
This year, my old friend Tom and I are going to do the two-man time trial at the Firehouse 50. It will be the first time that Tom has done the time trial and the first time that we have ever done a time trial together, after racing for 15 years. It should be a lot of fun. Hopefully, we'll see you there.
FOR MORE INFORMATION The Firehouse 50 is August 5 this year. The 50-mile road race, tour and time trial begins at 10:30 a.m. For more information, contact Chris Iverson, 715/763-3333 or 715/763-3197; e-mail: gvfh50@win.bright.net; web page: www.firehouse50.org.
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