Iditabike camp - humpday 3

 

Camp was going exceptionally well - we were getting to know the lay of the land, our knowledge and confidence was increasing, as well as our situational awareness and respect for the semi-arctic environment we were in.

 

 

I've never been one to sleep in. All my life I've pushed the sleep boundaries - never getting enough because I want to pack so much into every day. ITI camp was no different, I wanted to get some pre-dawn photos on the lake and just enjoy the solitude.

 

 

Out on the lake I followed some trails and sloughs to the SE of camp. I had a few hours before our 9am group rendezvous. 

 

My regular tripod got damaged in the flight, so I MacGuyvered a makeshift UL version - my mini Joby, on top of an alloy tent pole (from my Contrail tarptent) jammed into the snow. Not great in any slight breeze, had to bracket the shot below for pot luck in getting a shake free long exposure.

It's amazing how much your eyes and brain compensate colour balance. What you may 'see' as white light, could be hued or tinted due to atmospheric conditions or ambient light sources. One of the many first things you learn as a photographer/videographer is white balance - correcting and sometimes using a false reading to your advantage in camera, instead of manipulating the image in post production. It's a real treat when the image is exactly how it was.

 

Kurts cabin overlooking Flathorn lake and Mt Susitna was a great base for camp and is also a checkpoint during the ITI. Many thanks for the hospitality!

Our first class today was tyre changing. Now I'm very experienced and well qualified to change tyres, however changing a flat fat, in the snow, in sub-zero conditions, was a new experience for me. Bill handed over the class to me, my mate Rob shot some video of the demo. I had a ball, and I hope everyone took away some new knowledge - sometimes the tiniest tech-tip or trade secret could get you out of a bind. So Bill, have you used that paintbrush in the bidon trick yet?

 

We all put our bikes back together and got moving. The plan was to head out over the lake, cross the dismal swamp and pick up a snack at the churro stand. Okay okay, there was no churro stand - should be though, calories come in handy...

 

Dismal swamp and a fair share of firm overflow, great fun riding with non-studded tyres - slippin' an'
driftin' an' fallin' an' hurtin'.

 We stopped on the edge of the swamp to practise bivvy, cook/melt and repack again. By now, things were falling into place and the routine getting faster each time. I was refining my SOP, updating my diary and methodically logging what worked and what didn't... but in this pic I'm just taking a break to enjoy the moment.

Stickboy showed us his skills in making a fire from the basics - birch bark. The oils in the bark assist firestarting - even when wet.

 

 Spruce on the left - shelter, bedding and needles for your tea, Birch on the right - bark for your fire. The birch reminded me of our own aussie Maleleuca (paperbark tree) and a quick scan of Wikipedia revealed some amazing uses for Birch.

 

We rode over the rollers till we got to the Susitna river, then we turned back towards base camp.

 

 

The return leg to basecamp turned into a bit of a TT, was great to open it up on the trails with a familiar destination. I got back and was sweat saturated (on purpose) with just my long sleeve Icebreaker shirt on - I wanted to go through the process of drying out wet clothes on body during motion. Amazing how much heat your body can produce! Bill gave us an optional solo navigational exercise - the directions were cryptic and fairly basic - "Out on the lake, turn left, then right up one of the sloughs, loop through some backcountry and come out on the track you rode in on, before you drop back down onto the lake again. See you when you get back." Love it, this was just what I was after - off the leash and up for a bit of freestyle exploring. Sun was just setting on the treetops as I left.

I came across an area of the lake where some guys had been ice fishing. I spent half an hour picking up the trash they left behind - candy wrappers, used hand warmers and general trash - filled a 10L trash bag and took it with me. Felt a little sad that someone could show such little respect.

Back on task, I turned up the slough to find a decent patch of overflow. The surface was slick and still a bit greasy in places - meaning a fresh flow and not quite frozen. Hmm, and not waterproof to the knees either. I scouted it, confirmed my line along an existing snowmachine track, poked it with a stick. Satisfied, I pinned my ears back and went for it. Nothing happened, but it was a valid learning experience - made me think more about traversing long, deep, slushy crossings and what I'd need in the future. Mental note to update SOP and equipment list.

Nirvana. Narrow, buff singletrack disappeared into the spruce forest. The trail meandered through the prettiest country I'd ever seen. Easily the best bike ride of my life.

 

Along with remaining spatially aware (I had no maps, relying purely on dead reckoning for direction - no need for the compass yet) there was also the situational awareness. I spied plenty of fresh animal prints on both sides of the trail - moose included. The distinctive heart shaped, cloven hoof print crisscrossed the trail.

My journey took me through some incredible backcountry on the original Iditarod trail, some twists and turns, and back onto a trail I recognised as the one we rode in on Monday. I rolled down the steep bank back onto the lake trail and startled a moose off to the side, a safe distance away. First moose! I now know what it feels like when tourists see their first kangaroo or koala.

 

 By the time I got back it was late, found I was the only one who fully navigated the exercise. Sleep debt was starting to mount in a few of us, and with it warm and dry in the cabin, Renzo was the first to succumb.

 

 

Iditabike camp - day 2

The sound of the surf was enchanting. I floated effortlessly over the beach, the warmth of the night was inviting me to slumber. There was another sound on the breeze I couldn't identify. I paused to adjust my pack as something was digging into my back, but couldn't locate the source of my discomfort. The sound continued, gradually increasing into a muffled hum. The horizon glow indicated dawn was approaching, riding through the night in this dream like state had approached an almost Zen clarity. I was almost there...

Blink. Awake.

The generator had been running for quite some time. Bad place for a bivvy, but even Bill didn't know the genset in the workshed would start so early. The routine begins...

Start the cooker, melt snow for water, make brekky, clean up, pack up, brush teeth, go. We were to repeat this routine many, many times on camp, to refine our packing strategies and improve efficiencies.

The lump under my back turned out to be a poorly stomped bivvy site, I didn't let the snow 'set up' long enough and ended up with big postholes and lumps under the sleeping pad. Learning all the time...

The snow was often full of spruce needles and other woody bits - no health risk if you leave them in, but if you are refilling bottles with delicate seals or bite valves, you might want to scoop out the floaties so they don't clog or jam the seals open and you end up with a critical leak.

Brekky each day began with a Clif bar, warmed in my jacket pocket (placed there the night before to thaw) munch this in my bag while the snow melts, prep the Quaker oatmeal and Swiss Miss hot chocolate.

Had a bit of time before our 9am class, great to soak up the atmosphere, the views over Flathorn Lake and Mt Susitna.

Today was a lot of theory and Q and A inside. Plenty of tech shared around, with such a diverse range of backgrounds and experience levels. We had pages of information to get through, Bill and Kathis knowledge is first rate, interspersed with some great stories from Iditarod.

 

Back outside, there was an equipment muster - we break our kit down, lay it out for inspection and adjudication by Bill (yes, this all went towards our passing the course). We learnt a lot, checking out each others setups and getting valuable feedback from both Bill and Kathi. Some of the guys had hired their kit (including bike) from outfitters in town, so was vital to get familiar with it real quick. 

 

Here's my kit - needless to say I got full marks for my spares, tools, bike knowledge and preparedness - everyone wanted me at their side should they break down!

 

 I don't know what Stickboy (Jason Bratton) was doing in this pic, but I think Bill might have said 'Yeah, you don't want to get that caught in your zipper'

Kathi modelling a true -40 below jacket. Nome veteran.

 

Our afternoon test was a run through of basic navigation up the sloughs, along with a practice cooking stop and snow melt. Again, Rob bought along that beer keg:

 

Here's Kelly, the northern neighbour from, well, the north eh - Canada.

Guy Jennings, from South Africa, broke a mount on his bag or rear rack from a fall at Point Mackenzie, so had to lug all his gear on the front rack. Behind Guy is Will Muecke from Costa Rica - he is THE driving force to get a fatbike division in the 2013 La Ruta de los Conquistadores race.

We got to push up a nice, steep hill to get off the lake, what followed was couple of km of wooping singletrack under a full moon and crystal clear skies.

We stopped to melt snow and have a cuppa.

 

 

The glow from the stove was hypnotic.

 

 

We returned to base camp at Flathorn. I asked Bill if I could move my bivvy - I spied a nice little shelf just above the lake with an incredible view of Mt Susitna...tonight I would be sleeping beside a Lady of Alaska and dreaming of her natural beauty all around me....

 

ITI camp. Here. Now.

"Are you doing the dog race?" many people had replied, when I mentioned the word 'Iditarod'.
"No, I'll be riding a bike on the trail." I would respond.

Some would understand without explanation. Some would glaze over as they tried to process what a fatbike was. Others shook their heads, thinking I'd been out in the sun too long.

So, why would an Aussie leave the relative comfort of a Queensland summer, to go ride a fatbike in Alaska, mid winter? I had trouble explaining this in 10 words or less when people asked - and it wasn't due to my accent or regular use of rhyming slang.

Well, here via words, pictures and eventually a video type thing, I'm hoping to convey to you what drew me to Alaska. The adventure continues...

We all meet in the carpark of the hotel. Bill and Kathi (Iditarod Trail Invitational race owners and organisers) will be our guides and teachers for the next week, putting us through our paces and testing our mettle.  There were 9 of us, from Costa Rica, France, South Africa, Australia, Canada, Italy as well as continental US. 

Time to get busy loading the truck with expedition-ready fatbikes, cache drop bags etc

Out amongst those mountains is where we were headed. A few hours in the van gave us all a chance for introductions and to share bike adventure stories.

We unload and begin our ride from the iconic Pt MacKenzie general store. The ITI race began here for many years, until fire damaged the store.

Bill did a quick ride briefing, we rechecked our packing and paused for a group photo. It was interesting to see and chat about the setups - some with racks and full panniers, others with lightweight Revelate seatbags and slings. We had little idea from this point on, all of our future expeditions would be gauged on this trip.

We were heading to the other side of the iconic 4,396ft peak called Mt Susitna, 'The Sleeping Lady' as it is also known, was the location of our base camp at Flathorn Lake. These snow roads form a major link to many small communities, via snowmachine and dogsled. It was hard to resist stopping every few kilometres to take snapshots, when you had a vista like this in front.

Our trail wound its way through stands of Spruce and Birch, in a Narnia-like winter wonderland.

...and over long straights of frozen marsh/swamp:

My mate Rob drew the short straw and had to carry the beer keg for the group.

Some of the local dogsled teams use this area often for race training, these teams can really hook along at speed and often travel quietly, courtesy is to let them through wherever possible.

To the North-East we had the company of the imposing spire of Mt McKinley, at 20,320ft it is the highest peak in North America.

We hadn't travelled very far along the trail and still had a ways to go. We often paused to soak it all in, take photos, adjust layers. The day rolled on, we settled into a rhythm, finding our own groove on the trail and enjoying the moment.

Bill and Kathi warned us about group mentality and about how it can affect each of us. We all run on different temps and clothing layers, calorie requirements, hydration and rest room breaks - so if you need to stop, you stop. Stopping to adjust your layers, tyre pressure, hydrate or feeding, might mean you'll run more efficiently over the long term, for your own circumstances. With a group mentality you may blindly dig yourself deeper into reserves, beyond which you may not recover quickly enough to replenish and then run depleted. This camp was as much adventure as it was teaching us to learn the very subtle nuances about our own physiology that we may never have experienced before.

 
I was so stoked to be out there.

We dropped down off the rollercoaster and onto the frozen stretch of Flathorn Lake. There were several patches of overflow, the lake ice was covered in only a few inches of loose snow, making it treacherous for us without tyre studs. Fell over a lot. Hubbard.

We got to base camp and Bill showed us our bivvy area. Straight to work stomping out our pad, melting snow for our bottles and setting up bedding.

Pure luxury and totally unexpected - I knew there was a hut at base camp, I pictured it as a small 1 room log cabin - bit of a shock to find a large, self supported cabin.

No K-rations here either. More carbonara? Or would you prefer another prawn cutlet...

I was beginning to feel like I'd missed a turn and got mixed up with some degustation group, but no, Bill and Kathi reassured us over the next week we would appreciate the cabin comforts, as the cold, the exposure and the training started to take effect on our minds and bodies.

 The night rolled on and the stories flowed, about blizzards, 40 below temps, racers postholing their way through feet of fresh snow and the raw, unforgiving landscape. We had bluebird weather today, temps ranged -2C to -15C, low humidity, barely a breath of wind and these conditions were considered by many as mild.  I could only imagine how bad it could get out there, and I'm told that's what breaks people and equipment. I was here to learn, trial equipment, dial in my layers, and to see how I would adapt to the conditions. Yesterday was easy, but I was eagerly looking forward to tomorrow.