Dubai to Murba, Coast to Coast Race - by Pete Armstrong

December 11th Training Ride from Dubai to Murba‐ The Coast to Coast Ride

The Coast to Coast ride starts in Dubai, next to the Gulf. Its waters are warm and shallow and a beautiful backdrop to Dubai. The end of the ride is the Indian Ocean, the other side of the UAE and parts of Oman. The waters here are also warm, but not as warm or calm as the Gulf. India boarders on the east, and Oman on the west.

In total, the Coast to Coast ride is just over 150 miles, and climbs around 4,200’. The landscape goes from harsh flat desert with dories spewing thick black smoke, to soft red sand desert with rolling hills, and into desert mountains void of any vegetation except for the few irrigated town centers. We even passed through an oasis with camels looking at us like we were crazy. Another side note; camels are one of the smartest animals capable of hearing thunder from 40 miles away (directing it to water). The native people to the area, the Bedouin, regard a camel as a “Friend”.

In Dubai all cyclists know the Coast to Coast ride. The last few years it was a race drawing pro’s from around the globe looking for off‐season training (not quite the guys from Tour de France, but a close 2nd ☺). This year the ride was for training or fun, but we all trained for the “training ride” (no idea why it wasn’t a race this year). The organizer did a great job of letting everyone know the regroup points, as there was sure to be a blow‐up within the pack. Call it a training ride, call it a race, we all had intentions of being the first to see the Indian Ocean.

The first 40 miles of the Coast to Coast followed our typical Friday ride. Side note; Friday is the Middle East equivalent of Sunday in the US (no work and a day of prayer‐ sometimes from a bike). These 40 miles were really to stretch the legs and watch the sun rise. We started at 5:30am, so plenty of time for all to finish and beat the mid‐day sun. Watching the sunrise on the world’s tallest building is a great way to start a day (Burj Dubai). We also have to stay in a close pack in the outskirts of Dubai due to all the dories (dump trucks) zooming in and out of traffic and generally not looking for small groups of riders. They won’t aim for you, but may not notice if they hit you.

At the first water stop, mile 40, we divided into 5 different groups based on ability or planned effort level. I jumped in the fast group hoping for a challenge along the remaining 110 miles. I wanted to push the pace and get my Taleo jersey out in front. Being a classic type A bike racer, simply riding along in the Middle East isn’t enough. Leg cramps and mental anguish is required to make the experience epic.

This section of the ride left the outskirts of Dubai, and entered the soft rolling red sand hills. This area is more what I had envisioned as a desert. The concrete medium in the roadway was drifted in with sand the way a Colorado medium barrier looks after a good snow storm. Definitely not at home anymore.

We had one more water break just as entering the desolate mountains and the final stage of the ride. I stayed close to the guys who looked like they could take off without me. On the other side of the mountains was the Indian Ocean, and the unofficial end to the ride.

The first major climb was done at a decent pace letting all know it would be a long ride through the mountains. We were in solid rotation when the next major climb came into sight. It was about 2 songs long. Not long enough to hold much back, but long enough to burn a match early in a long ride.

Lacking much reservation on the bike, I attacked the climb wanting to split the group. I figured this was a perfect place to drop the people not contributing to the pace, and let the others know they had better plan carefully if they wanted to drop me.

The group was smarter than I was at this point on the ride. I’m guessing most knew the route, and the pain to come. They fully let me go. I got so far ahead of the pack that I passed our lead car. I looked back to see what the reaction was from the peloton, but just kept my tempo high.

I relaxed a little on the top of the climb seeing two tri guys bridging up to me. It was game time and they wanted to win. I couldn’t do it alone, and hoped three of us had a chance. It’s always worth a try, but we had another 20 miles of mountains before the regroup spot. As we all know, that’s a long distance to hold off a motivated pack.

We lasted about 5 miles. The tri guys were amazingly strong. They were giving me short pulls, but then taking minute pulls on the flats at over 30. The strongest guy told me there were a few big climbs remaining, and that would be my area to attack. All I had to do was hang on for the interim.

The peloton in the Middle East is just same as the peloton in California. There are no thanks for big pulls, no respect for breaking away, and opportunist at every corner. The minute we were swallowed, a counter attack occurred. It was a tough go hanging on, but the pain only lasted a few minutes. By the time we hit the next climb the pack was sorted down to 20 or so.

One of the riders I had talked with earlier in the day had moved to the front. This guy looked strong, and had a Type 1 kit on. I had no idea he was the real deal. As he picked up the pace all I could do was keep my head down and focus on the wheel in front of me. I had to play chase up a few times as the wheel I followed fell off the surge.

We dropped all except for 6 by the top. It was 2 tri guys (had iron man jersey’s), 1 from the Abu Dhabi bike team, 1 local, 1 Type 1 rider, and myself. I was lucky to hang on as I had just about given up. I had expected the top of the climb to be the crux, rather than just ending as it did. Knowing the route is everything when calculating effort/distance= minutes of pain.

I was deep into the red and could see a tunnel about ¼ mile up the road. I told myself it was Not OK to be dropped before the tunnel, but would gladly die after. My previous coach told me this mental trick for Copperopolis saying to give her three deaths along the race. Go until you really can’t anymore and count one death. The tunnel ahead was my fourth death of the ride… As luck had it, the summit was the tunnel. Never give up.

The decent was mad! We went straight down to the Indian Ocean in our pack of 6 reaching speeds over 50mph. Lots of curves, and scary drop‐offs. I figured I didn’t hang on through the top to be dropped on the decent.
We were told to regroup in Kalba, a little town on the shores of the Indian Ocean, and just beyond the bottom of the decent. I had burned a lot of matches early in the ride and my legs were cramping as a result. Another mental goal was to reach the town with the group and then hide and recover with the group.

The remainder of the ride was flat following the Indian Ocean. We arrived in the small city of Fujairah just as afternoon prayers started. We were approaching the end of the ride; the Mosque reminded me where in the world I was. Our day had started during the Dawn prayer in Dubai, and now was ending with the afternoon prayer as we passed through Fujairah.

The guy wearing the Type 1 jersey turned out to be working this day (Daniel Holt). His team sends him to the UAE for training during the off season. Last year he had won this race, and could have easily had a repeat performance from what I saw. Not saying he had an easy day at the office, but his gas tank was not empty when we reached Kalba. It is very cool to ride with the real deal so far from home. I got some good words of advice from him, and the chance to see how good, good can be.

Lots more training rides in the coming months. Not sure where these rides may be, but I have a bike that is willing to travel. Looking forward to race season in California.