Iditarod Trail Invitational 2015 - day 2 race report

I must have looked like some big, green worm all night in my bag. I was doing ab crunches, side raises, back extensions, leg extensions and hamstring curls in the bag to generate heat. Sure, it was cold out, but not that cold. My gear choice was solid, location good. It was all due to the time gap between my last major feed and bivvy down - I should have fed right before sleeping - simple as that.  Lesson learnt - but to be honest I'd never been able to field test this exact scenario to experience it - so I saw it as a positive.  Plus the body was still going through significant thermal adaptation and acclimatisation - it still thinks that its summer...

Only a few hours sleep, brekky done and back onto the trail. I saw a few racers go by while I was eating, so was eager to get moving and make ground. The green waves of the Aurora was now replaced by a fireball moon, my only companion.

TECH - HEADLAMP: the headlamp I chose was a Black Diamond Icon Polar. 200 lumen max, 4 lumen minimum. Runs on regular AA batts. Reasons for choice:  the battery compartment can be remotely mounted (connected by a generous cord length and has a sealed, threaded connection) so I stowed the battery pack in a warm chest pocket. The brightness is  infinitely adjustable via the top multi-function button, and switches between the high power single led, the two white side leds (you can see both modes in these two images) and the red leds. Flash function on white and red low power leds. Excellent lighting adjustment and battery economy for close in work (like cooking and around camp) and great brightness for trail work. Battery indicator is on the bottom of the head unit, so when you power it on it illuminates a small led - an appropriate colour to match battery remaining - you see this due to the position just above your eyes.  

Jim was nice enough to let me know he had passed by a few hours before. He was taking medication that had the amusing side effect of turning his urine bright blood orange - one particular deposit, one could be fearful a racer was losing a considerable amount of blood, until one saw the artistic and quite talented manner in which it was deposited on the snow. Humour is never far away. 

I spent the next few hours chasing that moon - even howling at it just for giggles - until the sky bruised purple with the hint of a sunrise in a few more hours.

Here are a few of the challenges along the way - this is what you white knuckle the bars against - chunked up river trail that is difficult to change ruts once you are in them - the tyre slides on the edge of the rut and you go down. 

...and then there is the glare ice/overflow. Can never get complacent on this - you don't know how thick it is, how fresh the flow is, and just because you see snowmachine tracks over it, doesnt guarantee it is structurally sound (but is a good indicator of safety) for smallish point loads like bike tyres - still apply your common sense, look for rotten spots and above all, take calculated risks. Nothing is perfect and you have to accept responsiblity for your actions. (this was fairly mild overflow - there was worse to come) 

The entrance to Skwentna Roadhouse CP2 appeared, the signs indicated 3 miles. This is where you encounter certain  humour and things unique to the ITI - 'Bill Merchant Miles' - where a mile isn't really a mile as we know imperial miles. But I won't ruin the surprise - that's just part of the rookie experience. Bill has a lot of fun things in store for his racers.

 Inside the checkpoint were a few racers catching a quick snooze, and Jim, Mike and Adam tucking into a hot breakfast. We shared a laugh or two and trail stories, but I was eager to depart before 'checkpoint suck' set in (to me, checkpoints can be like a vortex that sucks you in with the warm fire, dry timber floors and food aromas - all nice things that are best savoured post-race). Plus I was going to be off the river for a while now onto buff  trail and into the Shell hills:

TECH - GOGGLES: I chose goggles over glasses. I wouldn't say my eyes are sensitive - they are just average eyes - but they are Aussie summer eyes that don't have an acclimatisation to this winter environment, so I wanted to create a positive microclimate for them to do their job day after day. I chose 2 lenses that easily changed out - the goggles are Oakley Airbrakes - from the fire iridium for high glare, to the high intensity yellow for ultra-low contrast days and night running. On previous trips I trialled photochromic lenses in my Jawbones, they worked well but the cold does affect the lighter range of the tint (they stay darker than they do in a warmer climate) - found them a little dark for night riding as the lens isn't totally clear in the absence of UV stimulation.

With regards to fogging - it certainly is something that you have to manage. The vents on the goggles must be kept clear of snow and your headgear must direct your breath away from the vents.  On my headgear I stitched in a small length of insulated electrical wire with gear cable crimps on the end, to make a mouldable nose bridge to ensure a positive seal and also to cover exposed skin from windburn/frostnip.

The steady climb into the Shell hills is rewarded with some of the best pump track trail you'll find on the race. The descent to Shell Lake was fantastic afternoon fun - almost no pedalling required - as I pumped my way through each section I was whooping! I'm told the runners hated it due to the random push-pull on their sleds.  It was hot through here too, 5 degrees C. 

I dropped into Shell Lake Lodge and chatted to another racer Thomas. He was feeling a bit broken down at this point, by the sounds of it he was ready to pack it in. I'd also heard that several racers missed the turn at the lodge and continued along the lake for several miles, caught in the red mist and not looking for vital trail clues back up into the hills.

See the trail in this shot below? It's barely there, the lighting is so flat with the low contrast of sky and snow revealing no trail texture  - this is where the high intensity lens really proved itself, being able to highlight the subtle shading of trail contours. This was the last long descent into Winterlake CP3.

Winterlake Lodge is the chance to get a meal, replenish supplies from your first drop bag and have a nap in the hut. Talking about drop bags - about now is where I was starting to pay the penalty of the classic rookie mistake (first evident when I compared the size of rookie and veteran drop bags over a week ago at the B and B). Another of Bills' sayings is 'You always pack your fears'. I had overestimated my food consumption, and spent a while re-sorting my food into what little space I had left - given that I'd only made it halfway through my existing rations. Needless to say every Bonk Breaker bar was packed and a lot of other non-performing food was left behind.

Night was coming so I was eager to exit the CP in the light of day - there are quite a few sharp descents and ascents here that are easier to assess with good lighting. At the bottom of some descents I saw lots of imprint carnage - where riders had binned it and spilled their lollies. Literally. Frozen trailside gummi bears are a rare treat that I happily munched on for  the next hour or so.

Several points along this section required a fair amount of pushing up ravines and icy chutes - I used a pair of Hillsound Trail Crampons for much needed traction. On one of the sections, I overbalanced and fell over into a 2 foot snowbank - the bike fell over on top of me and the crampon spikes punctured the face of my carbon rim.

Second night on the trail, light snow falling, silence. I was having a great time.

Iditarod Trail Invitational 2015 - day 1 race report

"If you had one shot, one opportunity, to seize everything you've ever wanted, one moment, would you capture it...or just let it slip..." EMINEM

Poignant words from a modern storyteller, that encompasses the fulfilment of a dream, of a goal to achieve and let no barrier foil your effort.

But lets snap back to reality - it's race day!

We had a large group of racers staying at the Alaska European B and B, our wonderful host Irene cooked up a fabulous high energy breakfast to prep us for the day. Racers from the lower 48, Denmark, Czechoslovakia and of course Australia - we all spent the last few days prepping, sharing ideas of setup - each of us having our own methods.

A quick ride downtown to the Westmark Hotel, load the bikes into the provided truck, load ourselves onto the race bus for travel out to Knik Lake for the start. Many veterans go through their last minute checklists, weather forecasting and food/race/sleep strategies - while rookies are just wondering which direction to ride over the lake...

The Knik bar is a rite of passage - a place for race veterans to catch up, or to share a story or two with the locals and cram a pre-race meal. I wasn't homesick until I saw those bears.

All too soon though, it was go time. Mirth ensued as eager rookies led the charge...in the wrong direction, as vets sat back in the pack with a clear run in the right direction. The lake ice was covered by a very thin dusting of snow - this was truly a trial of fire - tyre studs proved totally ineffective for traction on the ice, as the tyre tread filled with loose pack snow and the snow acted like a lubricant - like bare feet on a wet tile floor. Oh yeah, falling on the ice was sooooo much fun...over, and over, and over...

Settled into a nice rhythm and stripped off layers, I passed people and people passed me - I was racing the Iditarod baby...ooowwwoooooo! You could hear the hoots, hollers and wolf cries through the forest as racers let the fun flow and the trail magic happen. For whatever reason (raceday red mist, taking pics and adjusting layers), I missed a turn (Burma Rd) that would take me along a valid shortcut along the gas road (flat and fast way to Flathorn Lake) from Pt MacKenzie, I remained on the marked Iditarod trail (a lot more hills, traditional and way more scenic). A serendipitous mistake for sure, but a mistake that I reckon every rookie should make – to reinforce the effect of navigational importance in familiar ground and to keep you on your ‘A’ game. This trail was way more enjoyable too!

This trail section undulates through the hills, finally coming out on one of the NE sloughs of Flathorn Lake – back into familiar territory – however there was no fatbike traffic. I’d been following a few other fatbike tracks (and trailside urine deposits that are undeniably the marks of racers) along the marked Iditarod trail (trail markers are reflective alloy triangles nailed to trees) so I knew my direction was solid - discussion with other racers later confirmed many had also taken the scenic route to Flathorn.

Snowmachines had chunked and balled the trail ice in the slough, then snow had covered this trail. I hit one of these patches and went down – FAST and HARD. Left knee took a big knock and opened it up on a chunk of ice – geez it was only the first day! No time for drama, patched myself up, checked the bike and got rolling again.

The race tension eased a little after that fall,  the pressure of trying to get along the trail quickly had overcome my common sense – there was a lot to learn and re-learn since last riding in Alaska 2 years ago – and experience is the best teacher. Although I had been focussing on conservative outputs for so long, the excitement of the race takes over and you find yourself becoming complacent as you push hard. I was slowly adapting to the longhaul mindset – I wasn’t just tootling around the trails of Anchorage anymore. So with the sun setting behind the ‘sleeping lady’ form of Mt Susitna, I sauntered over Flathorn lake with only a few tyre tracks in front of me.

The lack of tracks over Flathorn from my entry slough had me on edge...just a little. Mainly for ice integrity, but I was confused where the other pack riders had gone - they must have hugged the bank closer to Susitna and I had no idea how many riders were in front of me or behind. No problem, this made it a little easier to ride my own ride.

I paused for dinner on the edge of Dismal swamp and reset my gear for the night ride. Crossing the swamp is the first real exposure to mucky overflow. The plants have chemicals in them that minimise cellular damage when the seasonal freeze comes - their own kind of anti-freeze. These chemicals leach into the surrounding water, and because the water volume is low the higher concentrations of the chemicals affect the crystallisation and strength of the ice - it tends to crumble, crack etc and the overflow ice is rotten. It was a low snow year, the snowmachine trail was rotten and watery - you had to weave a cautious line on the tussock and the trail. And push.

Once past Dismal swamp, roll through the pump track to the drop onto the Susitna river. This drop is worthy of respect - you have to drop in 20 odd feet down to the river ice - it's lumpy and you collect a lot of speed real quick. Many bikes and people have broken right at this spot. I saw a runner ahead - turned out to be my good friend Peter Ripmaster - this ultra-running veteran was going to show me the secret art of Iditarod suffering in a few days time. After a few hours on the river, my thoughts only broken by light whisperings of the Aurora Borealis overhead. Total silence. But the strangest thing - I heard the sound of running water, turned out to be a small spring of fresh water running into the river. Strange juxtaposition and it intially confuses you, as the only water you can relate to in your immediate vicinity is all frozen! More hours pass, river confluences and sloughs roll on by, in that cone of light in front of you. But then you remember you have caffeinated treats...

More time. More ice, snow, more cone of light, before you know it the sound (that generator!) of Yentna station appears. CP1. The moment of truth - to see exactly where I was in the field and quell those questions of who-where that had been rattling around in my head.

I was a bit set back by how much time I'd lost, but this is a race of constant adaptations to new realities. I noted quite a few bikes still in the lot, with riders taking the time to sleep at the checkpoint cabin. My plan was to bivvy out each night - I didn't come all this way to sleep inside!

Before I left Yentna to gain a few more miles for the night, I spied one bike in particular. This bike belonged to my good friend Jim - an ITI veteran headed for Nome and one with whom I shared a unique sense of humour with. I spent a bit of time with Jim before the race, teaching him bike repair techniques and common field repairs. I wanted to notify Jim I'd been through, so took the time to pen a note and remind him of the importance of oral hygeine (I found this skanky looking toothbrush on a nearby fuel drum). And humour - oh the humour - it'll get you through some tough times on the ITI.

I wanted to bivvy down - I felt like I had to stop due to some pre-programmed mode - a remnant of sensible civilisation, but I also needed to keep moving forward for another hour or so. Plus, the genset at Yentna was going to ruin any plan for an hour or two of restful sleep under the stars on the snow. Oh yeah, it sounds so romantic. It was -12C on the river, and not much warmer up on the river bank. I wanted to stay close to the bank edge so I could see racers going past.

TECH - BEDDING: First of all you stomp down your snow patch and let it set for a few minutes, a snow crust will form. For insulation I use a Thermarest Z-lite foam pad on that crust. The great thing about the Z-lite is the way it folds up easily and quite compact - another popular option is the Thermarest Ridgerest - plus they are virtually indestructible and you never worry that a foam pad will puncture. The drawbacks - nearly no comfort and a seemingly low R-value of 2.6. I was using a hipbag Camelbak - this became my pillow (I would drink all water out of it and inflate - any water left in it just freezes). The sleeping bag is an Exped Waterbloc 1200, and inside this I used a Klymit Inertia X-frame inflatable for added comfort.

'Never go to bed depleted'. That's a Bill Merchant quote. I had cooked up a double serve of Idaho buttered mash potatoes a few hours ago, supplemented by a Bonk Breaker and other stuff. Would it be enough to hold me through the night in the bag?