Iditarod Trail Invitational 2015 - day 3 race report

I'd bivvied a little way off the trail, at some point during the night a racer came through and left some bright red pasta on the trail nearby. When I say left, I mean decoratively sprayed it in a wide arc. Had to be Jim. A light snow was still falling and only one racer had been through so early.

                                                

This section of the trail was heavily wooded with tall, mature spruce and I found myself a slowing just a little too often, to savour the vista, a Bonk Breaker and the absolute silence.

The tech aspect of the trail went up a couple of notches too, on the approach to the Happy River steps. All good fun if you enjoy and are competent at technical offroad riding - an absolute nightmare if you're the type who struggle with transition at a triathlon. 

One of the descents though, I wasn't going to risk riding. I scouted it top to bottom, I saw that some had indeed ridden it and some had also binned it quite hard at the bottom. Too many variables for me, I rigged up a quick belay line from whatever I had in my kit - some lengths of rope and some straps, on with crampons and began the belay. The chute was steep and  icy so gravity just dragged the bike down.  The lumps at the bottom is what caught riders out - the ice offered no braking traction so you hit the jumps at a fast pace. On an unladen bike I'd have no problem riding this - but gear preservation was at the forefront of my mind - tear a major bag mount or overload a component is not what you want out here. Ride smart.

 

TECH - BOOTS, SOCKS, PEDALS ETC: 30+ odd years of cycling I've always ridden clipped in - as a juvenile I raced in toe clips and straps, then moved to LOOK Delta pedals in the junior ranks during the late 80's. For ITI, I went through a lengthy test process of whether to race with flats or clips. My flat options were a pair of 45NRTH Heiruspec pedals, combined with Saloman Anka insulated boots, along with NEO Navigator overshoes. Dave from BOGear made me up a pair of his modified FRS straps to fit the pedals, to give me a strapped in feeling (read his blog post here ->  http://www.bogear.com.au/blog/frs-pedal-straps-for-iditarod/ ). My clipped options were Crank Bros Mallet 3 (the model with needle roller bearing/cartridge bearing - I rebuild all bearings with -60C winter spec grease for smoooooooth running), my tried and tested 1st gen 45NRTH Wolvhammer boots, a pair of Vaude 3mm neoprene shoe covers, Hillsound Trail crampons and 45NRTH Bergraven insulated gaiters. I also had a pair of Wiggys Overshoes if needed for problematic overflow.

Sock system - I used an Injinji Coolmax thin liner sock, then a RAB vapour barrier liner sock, over the vbl went a light but lofty Wooltek insulation sock. I never removed the liner sock (I trim my nails, clean meticulously and prime my feet with an anti-bacterial/anti-fungal powder before putting the Injinjis on), but would strip off the other layers at night to dry the feet. I only wore an insulated bootie in huts, I had no issue with trenchfoot or similar wet foot skin issues - I put this down to living in a warm climate and wearing closed leather shoes each day, my feet have adapted to a warm and non-breathable micro-climate.   The Mallets provided a spiked platform to act as a pseudo flat pedal, if I wanted to pedal without clipping in. Due to the brass cleat on the boot, I found it acted like a 'temperature differential nucleation point' for snow to collect on when walking and compress into an ice ball. Due to the rigid sole the ice didn't dislodge when walking, you had to chip it off on the pedal to allow clipping in.  I've spoken to many racers about which option is best in their opinion - my conclusion is use the system that works for you and that you are familiar with, but foremost does not compromise your waterproofing or your temperature range. All systems will have some form of negative and positive. For me, I liked the rigid feel of the Wolvhammer - it felt like a solid mountaineering boot with a stiff sole and firm feedback on the ice with a crampon fitted. The clip gave me positive engagement to the pedal to match my pedal stroke. With the platform on the Mallet, I could still ride as a flat if needed, and could ride with the crampons fitted.

 

A little ways along the Happy River, there was a matching climb up a short, vertical face up the river bank then straight up the ravine of 'The Gorge'.

 

I could see the crampon marks in the ice from pointed crampons, but alas my little trail crampons weren't up to this kind of vertical. There was a side track, with very loose snow and soil - required carrying the bike. The risk was if I fell with the bike, all kinds of random things happen during the 3-8 metres of falling, with spindly willows to stab and tear. I scoped the traverse and planned out my moves. I drove some branches into the undercut soil bank (not frozen) and tied some fixed rope handles to the willows. Was all I needed to maintain balance and control.

 

 

 

Snacktime! This flavour has a story. I packed a wide range of Bonk Breaker flavours and evenly distributed them throughout my ration packs. Ironically, the Blueberry Oat seemed to be the flavour that appeared every time. Every single time. It became this little game in my head, which flavour would be next - I craved the Peanut Butter and Choc Chip - and I'd hoot and howl when it appeared.

 

It was a long push up the gorge, through some incredible country. To many racers who are used to the weather cycles of harsh winters, this was probably a mundane task. But to an Aussie from a surf, sun and sand culture - every metre of the race was fascinating and awesome! The little details you absorb, admire and appreciate - the depth of the snow, the absolute silence (I know I've mentioned it before) was a reward that softened some harsh realities.

50% of the view is also looking backwards...

Just like any trail, the drivetrain is bound to pick up trail debris - and snow is no different. As long as you remain mindful to turn everything over once in a while as you walk, it won't ice up. If parking your bike into snowbanks - park the front wheel and not the back - racers have had issues with drivetrains icing up severely and ripping off derailleurs, mincing the chain into the spokes and other fun repair tasks.

 

This section of trail has several dangerous sidehill traverses along the mountain, in some places it drops several hundred metres down the steep slope into the Happy River canyon. There are a few side streams that glacier over the trail - you've gotta keep on the lookout on the upside of the bank for the change in vegetation that signals this kind of overflow, as it may be covered in a thin, slippery veneer of snow as I found out several times - the side angle will overcome studded tyres. More steep and icy downhill trail - some say this is the toughest stretch of trail in the race, certainly nothing to laugh at.

 

But it's not all trail horror and twisted shapes and hard falls on the ice and mental fractures from flavoured oatmeal bars - I was passing through a very active community of squirrels - they would bark and chatter at me for challenging them, darting between trees and then oops, they'd stray into a neighbours turf and an affray would begin between them, all highly amusing - I just wish the pet monkey was there to see it (I'm sure she will...one day she could come back and race the 130 as a junior).

Serenity. Snap back to reality man, this is a race!

 

Alone with my thoughts and the legs ticking over on auto pilot, it was a startling thing to meet other racers. Mike and Adam were riding together (I'd last seen them at Skwentna) and they were powering along to meet the dinner cutoff at Rainy Pass Lodge. I arrived at the cabin to find a few racers sleeping inside. There is hot water, coffee, a trading post of sorts with all kinds of food left by racers, a well stoked fire, places to hang and dry clothes, plenty of rustic beds and the charm of many decades of Iditarod history in this cabin. I recognised the bikes parked outside and knew Jim, Adam, Mike, Thomas and Lars were bivvied inside. It was late, I needed food and water, I needed to sleep - the cabin seemed like the path of least resistance and I succumbed to checkpoint suck. Leaving a checkpoint late at night with no exit intel can be a time wasting experience too - many tracks around may seem correct, but veer slightly over time, forcing a backtrack and time/energy loss.

 

RACE TIP - CABIN ETIQUETTE: Be meticulous about how and where you set your gear out in cabins. It's not uncommon for other racers to accidentally pickup your socks/gloves/headgear etc in the dark and in a sleep deprived state, or for you to do the same or even completely forget a piece of gear, or it gets moved/bumped/knocked over and lost or damaged. Also, when drying gear,  think about proximity to the fireplace. Boots and gear can get burnt if knocked closer to the fireplace, or a racer may stoke the fire up and radiant temps rise to the point where your gear gets scorched. Use earplugs to minimise disturbances from snorers and the comings and goings of racers. Use a headtorch with a low setting or a red LED to minimise disturbance to other racers. Hydrate well and you won't need a watch for a wakeup call.

 

 

 

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?

Iditarod Trail Invitational 1000 announcement - 2016

I was chatting to a good mountain biking mate of mine the other day, he was wondering what my next big adventure was. I told him "the Iditarod to Nome - 1000 miles". He seemed surprised - not at the distance or the race - but moreso that I'd not formally announced it.

I know I'd hinted it in FB status updates. I've IG'd it. I've hashtagged it. He had a point though, I just presumed peeps would pick up my cues - but who takes notice of hashtags nowadays? Pfft.

#youalreadyknewiwasdoingiditarod1000milesin2016didntyou

So here it is.

In February 2016, I'll be racing the Iditarod Trail Invitational, the 1000 mile distance (that's 1600km to us metric folk) to Nome, in Alaska, in winter, on a fatbike. I even screenshot part of the 2016 roster, just to prove it:

I just didn't get my fill of cold, ice, danger, sleep debt and mystery this year on the 350, so I went on and signed up for the 1000. Crazy, huh?

I covered a little bit of the race in a previous post Iditarod Prologue, so I won't bore you with the same pics again, but I've got more in store - I'm still threatening to post up those daily race reports and gear list!

The map below could pretty much pass as a satellite image - Alaska in winter is just one big snowcone.

 

I'll be taking a Trace tracker this time, so you guys can enjoy watching the glacial pace I'll be making along the 1000 mile route. The riveting online discussions you can have about what I'm doing when stationary will be legendary and something that the internet will be proud of.

Sure, I've been training (commuting to work on a Cannondale fatbike is training, yes?) splashing around in the pool, savouring pleasant morning jogs in the bush and using one of those electronic muscle stimulators so I can crunch my abs while watching the telly and blogging. Core strength is crucial people!

I had a nasty knee issue in 2015 from falling on ice during the race, but thanks to the awesome hands and knowledge of my physio Howard Arbuthnot, that's been sorted.

I've changed my diet to low carb/high fat (many thanks to Brisbane Paleo) and refined my lean body mass (reduced 10kg). Carbs are so unfashionable these days, besides I've always wanted an excuse to just eat butter for breakfast and peanut butter M and M's all day long...and you think I'm joking right?

Ahh, please allow my jest.

But no, this is serious stuff. I've been doing all kinds of experiments to see what works for me. I like experiential evidence...and peanut butter cups.

Real food - Bonk Breaker bars from my nutrition sponsor FE Sports - will be there for me again for 2016. 250 calories roughly each, with roughly 50 from fat. Diesel power.

Skratch Labs have these neat portioned energy chews, nitrous oxide injection for this diesel.

 

I'll be riding my Muru Cycles Witjira titanium bike again, similar setup from 2015, only lighter. I've been drillin' holes in things and changin' out components for lighter options - yeah, I've gone full weight weenie.

Ride Mechanic race lubes kept me rolling smoothly through all kinds of conditions in 2015, why change from a good thing for 2016?

Follow the race updates on the official Iditarod Trail Invitational website and also on my facebook page. Nyree will be updating where possible.

Countdown is on - race day is 28th February, 2:00pm Anchorage time - about 7 weeks away from this post.

I can't wait!