Archive for the ‘Susitna Valley’ Category

The Iditarod Trail Invitational was many things. Easy was not one of them.

Monday, March 9th, 2009

I am back home now after successfully completing the 2009 Iditarod Trail Invitational race to McGrath. It was an incredible race, and I am still in slight disbelief that it played out the way that it did. Somehow I managed to finish, despite broken equipment, faulty race strategy, nagging injuries, and the worst trail conditions the ITI has seen.

I am planning to write a detailed account of my race, but that might take a while. Hopefully I can start posting it in sections, starting next week.

In the meantime, let me answer the two questions I’ve been asked most often since I finished:

1) What happened on the last leg? You came into Nikolai in second place, but ended up in 6th, as the second skier?
I’ll go into more detail later, but basically up until that point I had not been racing. I had been playing it smart and safe and resisting any urge to be competitive. And that strategy was working great – after all, I was in second place! Plus, I was also dealing with a broken ski and pretty severe tendinitis in my Achilles. I was exhausted and I knew I couldn’t catch Jeff to win the thing. And honestly, I thought I had the ski division sewn up because Pete’s leg times has always been at least an hour or two slower than mine. So I played it smart and safe, and Pete skied an amazing last leg. Sure, now I wish I had left Nikolai with Pete instead of an hour and twenty minutes later, but I still think I made the smart and safe decision based on the information I had at the time. My hat is off to Pete for kicking into high gear when it counted. He’s the record-holder in this race for a reason.

2. Will you do it again?
I doubt it. There are too many other potential adventures on my list for me to continue focusing on this one. Plus, I was pretty disappointed in the skiing aspect of this race. The skiing was never very good. I understand that a race like this will have highs and lows. I don’t mind the lows. I can deal with miles of trail-breaking or skiing through crud if it means that eventually I’ll enjoy gliding down a packed snowmobile track. The problem was that even the good trail sections, the parts that should have been the ‘highs,’ were kind of miserable. The snow was cold, dry and windblown, and I couldn’t get an inch of glide while pulling a sled. I couldn’t skate, I couldn’t double-pole, I couldn’t even stride. I wasn’t skiing, I was shuffling. I signed up to ski 350 miles, not walk 350 miles with skis on my feet.

But having said all that, there were plenty of moments that made the trip worthwhile. I look forward to cataloging all of my thoughts and getting them down in written form. Check back soon.

Going strong!

Sunday, March 1st, 2009

Got a call from Greg, a work friend of Cory’s. He wanted to let me know that he was flying his plane in the area of the race today, and spotted Cory at about 5:30pm (3-1/2 hours in). He called to let me know that Cory looked strong. A lot of the cyclists were walking. He mentioned that no one had reached the Susitna river yet, but I haven’t studied the map enough to know the implications of that. Greg noted that the wind has caused a lot of drifts to pile up on the river, so the cyclists may have a rough time tonight. He also said he didn’t see anyone ahead of him for ages and thought that Cory was in the lead! That conflicts with the messages out of the race organizers, but they did state that the cyclists were really spread out.  We’ll see how things look when racers log into the first checkpoint, but it’s nice to think that he’s skiing well and making progress.

Greg noted that he saw Ed (skier w/the backpack) with the cyclists. But he didn’t mention Pete Basinger, so I hope Greg didn’t confuse Pete for Cory. Cory’s ‘safety orange’ sled cover should have been pretty eyecatching.

-Linda

Into the wild….

Sunday, March 1st, 2009

[disclaimer- Cory may be pissed I'm posting, but he can always delete this later]

After yesterday’s snowstorm, today’s clear skies were a relief. I doubt any of the racers were excited to see several inches of soft snow arrive, but maybe the nice weather will bring out the snowmobilers and they’ll pack the trail.

There wasn’t much left for the racers to do at the start, since all the gear choices and prep were complete by the time they arrived. Everyone was ordering burgers and fries for one last warm heavy meal and trying to choke them down. It was outwardly calm, but the racers were generally withdrawn into their own little worlds. It was so strange, even I started to feel that pre-race nauseous feeling.

At about 1:45, Cory pulled his sled together, took a short spin to decide which poles to use at the start (skate poles), and then we said our goodbyes. I thought his sled looked pretty compact compared to a lot of the others, but there were a lot of different sizes and designs. A couple of runners were checking out Cory’s suspension system.  They were using rubber tubing over ropes, so their system looked very lightweight, but runners have very different needs than skiers. The only sled that was intriguing to me was Peter Basinger’s metal frame on skies with a backpack attached. It rides a 3-5 (?) inches off the ground, and supposedly it can be lifted up and carried on his back.  With the inches of new snow, it looked like it was gliding easily.  The other skier had a pretty compact backpack, although supposed his load was about 35 lbs.

Watching 50 racers start doesn’t take too long, and Cory was smiling and waving as he passed us. I took some photos (the race website has better ones), and watched until the racers were all out of view. If I hear any updates, maybe I’ll try to post.

-Linda

Iditarod Invitational Goals

Wednesday, February 25th, 2009

Four days until race day.  In all my posts about Alaska Ultrasport’s Iditarod Trail Invitational, I’ve referred to it as a race.  And technically it is a race.  There is a start line, a finish line, and who ever gets from the start to the finish fastest wins.  But I’m not approaching it as a race.  I’m approaching it as an adventure, an experience.  I’m hoping to see some amazing places, take lots of photos, and make it to the finish line.   For anyone who might be expecting to see me out in front, I want to point out that in all the results I’ve seen, a biker has won every time. 

With that in mind, here are my goals.

  1. Come back alive 
  2. Come back with all body parts intact
  3. Finish the race
  4. Finish the race in less than six days
  5. Have fun

Recently, I was starting to feel optimistic about the race.  After my post about the mental battle of a race like this, I got an email from a friend who is an expert on this type of adventure.  He said,  ”the hardest part of long ski trips is getting to the point where you take the first stride.  From there on it’s usually just plain fun.”  That helped a lot.  My fear was giving way to excitement and anticipation.  But then Craig Medred had to go and write this article: The loneliness of the long-distance winter race.

The hardest race to run is the one waged in your mind, and it is for this reason the Iditarod Trail Invitational is the hardest race in the world.

Sweet.  Just what I wanted to hear.  

But I am still excited and optimistic.  I believe Tim.  He’s usually right.  It has been much harder than I expected to get to this point. For months, every minute of my time that hasn’t been spent with work or family has been spent on this race.  I am ready to move on to the actual adventure.  I am looking forward to taking my first stride.

Susitna Shakedown

Sunday, February 15th, 2009

Two weeks to go until the big race starts. This weekend was my last training opportunity before focusing on rest. It also happened to be the weekend of the Susitna 100 race, so I decided to combine my training with a little spectating.

The Susitna 100 is a cousin of the Iditarod Invitational. It’s a 100 mile race for bikers, skiers and runners through frozen Alaska on trails that vary from snowmobile superhighways to almost no trail at all. While the Invitational is mostly about survival, the Su100 is definitely a race. For 100 miles. It is so physically demanding that, after I finished in 2005, I told my wife never to let me do that again, even if the painful memory faded with time. So I’m doing 350 miles instead. Yeah, that makes sense.

As with most of my training this year, I got a late start leaving the house on Friday night. After I helped put my son to bed and got packed up, it was 9:30 PM. I still had a two hour drive and then a ski before I could sleep, and my motivation was low. Fortunately, a RockStar Roasted Mocha and a killer playlist on my iPod got me fired up during the drive. By the time I started skiing at 11:30 PM, I was raring to go.

I followed the Su 100 trail from Point Mackenzie until just before Flathorn Lake which took about 2.5 hours. As I set up camp, I tried to focus on doing things warmly and efficiently, but the temperature was a mild 20 degrees F, so it felt a little silly to be wearing a down jacket and mittens.

I had a fitful night of sleep, mainly because I am still experimenting with sleeping pads. I had hoped to use only a Z-Lite foam pad in the race, but after shivering through a recent night at -5F, I decided I needed more. I’ve also got four different Thermarests that I could use either with, or in place of, the Z-Lite, but they are bulky and heavy. This time around I tried the Z-Lite with an Insulmat Air Core 3/4 length pad on top of it. The Insulmat folds up small and light, but it has no foam insulation, just air. I was plenty warm for this trip, but the race will be MUCH colder. Plus, the Insulmat was slippery and I kept sliding off it. You would think that with seven sleeping pads in our house, I’d have a decent combination for the race, but you’d be wrong. That is my biggest question mark as far as gear goes right now. Still trying to figure it out without dropping $200 on a down/air mat. Anyway, back to the Susitna 100.

Saturday morning I packed up camp at 9:00 AM and skied across Flathorn Lake. When I intersected the inbound Su100 trail, I came across the tracks of a fat bike headed out on the trail. The tracks were clearly made the night before, likely by someone doing the same thing I was. For some reason I thought it might be Epic Eric. He’s crazy enough to camp out in the middle of winter just to watch a few bikers and skiers go by. I followed the tracks through the Dismal Swamp and across the Susitna River. Sure enough, on the opposite river bank, Eric was kicking back, getting ready to build a fire and cheer on the racers. We hung out and chatted as we waited for the lead racers to come through. Some people camp out for Star Wars or iPhones, we camp out to watch the Susitna 100.

The trail this year started out a little soft in the morning, but still good for both skiing and biking. As the day went on, and the temperatures climbed into the thirties, the trail softened more. The skiers and some lead bikers seemed to handle it fine. Other bikers and runners really struggled. I kept telling them “It’ll firm up when the sun goes down,” even though I wasn’t nearly as confident as I tried to sound.

I did a little more skiing up and down the trail towards EagleSong lodge, watching racers go by. About 2 PM I realized that if I wanted to sleep in my own bed that night, I’d better get going. On my ski back towards Point Mackenzie, I stopped in the Dismal Swamp to cook dinner and melt some water for my CamelBak. I cheered on the racers as they passed. I think a few were tempted to sit down and join me.

Most of the Su100 and Little Su 50K racers I passed in the last four hours of my ski thought that I was the leader of the race, headed for the finish line. I felt like I was disappointing them when I had to say, “No, no, I’m not racing. I’m cheering YOU on.” Sorry to steal your thunder, Chet.

I stopped to say a quick hi to Bill and Kathi at the Alaska Ultrasport tent on the homestretch of the trail. See you in two weeks!

I arrived back at my truck at 7:30 PM. It was a 10 hour day, probably about 8 hours of actual ski time. The total trip distance was about 60 miles. Mostly skating, with maybe 8 miles of classic skiing thrown in for practice. I didn’t get to work on cold weather strategy as much as I hoped, but it was a good training session. It was a lot of fun to see so many friends out in a beautiful area on a gorgeous day.

Susitna 100 results

Eric took a ton more photos than I did.

My photos

 

2009 Susitna 100

 

The Mental Game

Thursday, February 12th, 2009

Last week’s training was decent.  I did two long skis (6 hours and 4.5 hours) pulling the sled.  I also did a night ski, then campout, then ski again in the morning at Hillside on Tuesday.  But I have to admit that I haven’t logged nearly as many hours of training as I had hoped.  This is mainly because I severely underestimated how much time it would take to get my gear together.  I have a garage full of ski gear and camping gear.  So how hard could it be to pull together the equipment for a week-long ski trip?  Pretty hard, apparently.  

My weekdays are scheduled down to the minute in order to get in a full day of work and a few hours of quality time with my son. This schedule includes one “free” hour that I typically use for exercise.  But recently, when I should have been ramping up my training, that free time was being increasingly monopolized by other race preparations: building a sled, experimenting with boots and socks, and shopping for long underwear, food, boot liners, dry bags, etc.

As I slowly cobbled my equipment together, I was amazed at how much gear I didn’t already have.  I think that’s when it dawned on me that this race is a completely different beast from anything else I’ve ever done.  It’s nothing like the Susitna 100, which was a one-day, one-shot deal.  For that race, I left home in the morning and was back in my own bed that night.  Skiing was the only skill required.  It’s nothing like the three-day adventure race I did.  That race was in the summer with a full support crew.   All I had to do was keep moving.  In the Iditarod Invitational, the ability to keep skiing/moving is only one of the many mandatory skills.

“Iditarod Trail racing is … strictly about self reliance, adaptability, sense of humor, and oh yeah, physical strength, to some degree.”

- Rocky Reifenstuhl, a veteran of many, many human-powered Iditarod races

The physical ability to ski 350 miles is only one small part of actually skiing 350 miles.   This might be the only ski race I’ve ever entered where my years of ski racing experience mean absolutely nothing.  The mental game is much more important.  And having the right gear goes a long way towards improving self reliance and adaptability, and thus improving your odds in the mental game.

Because my training has been less than ideal, it is reassuring to read a quote like Rocky’s (which I have heard many other Iditarod racers echo).  Maybe the training is not that important.  But then again, how strong are my self reliance skills?  My adaptability?  Or even my questionable-at-best sense of humor?  I don’t know the answers to these questions yet.  But I’ve tried to invest my time into both training and gear preparations, so that when the mental game starts, I’ll have the tools I need to play at my best.

 

This just in…the Iditarod Invitational is going to be really hard

Monday, February 2nd, 2009

Om Saturday, Scott and I headed out to Knik to do a long ski on the Susitna 100 course. A snowstorm on Friday had dumped almost a foot of new snow on the trail, which wasn’t ideal for skate skiing. But we headed out anyway, hoping that plenty of snowmobiles would hit it before we did. Besides, I’m going to encounter a lot of challenging trail conditions in my race, so a day of slogging through soft snow would be excellent, if difficult, training.

The trail from the Point Mackenzie General Store was as good as we could have hoped for, given the new snow. We skated down the road (FYI: travel on the road is not allowed in the Su100) for the first few miles until we hit the trail. The road was slightly icy, and super-fast. The trail was not. It was packed by many a snowmobile, but it was soft and uneven. About what we expected.

We had planned to take the Su100 oubound trail to Flathorn Lake via the Nome Sign, then maybe ski out a little farther before returning via the Su100 inbound trail. We never saw the turn-off for the outbound trail towards the Nome Sign and ended up going out and back on the straight section line that is the inbound Su100 trail.

It was slow going. I was towing my loaded gear sled, and Scott was wearing a heavy pack. In soft snow, there is no way to skate at an easy pace while towing a sled. You need to maintain a certain amount of momentum to keep the sled moving, and that requires churning the legs at a quick pace, even as they sink into the collapsing snow with each stride. It took us about 3 hours to travel the fifteen miles to Flathorn Lake. And even though that’s a pathetic 5 mph average, I was spent by the time we got there.

We took a short break to eat when we reached the lake, and I got cold really fast. The temperature was zero degrees F, not too cold, but a slight wind on the lake chilled us to the bone in minutes.

As we skied across the lake for a look at the Su100 checkpoint, I started to get really nervous. No, not nervous. Scared. I began to think about how tired I was after only three hours and fifteen miles. And I began to think about how cold I was, even though the current weather would be considered mild for the Iditarod Invitational. I knew I would survive this day. I knew my fingers and toes would warm up and I knew I would make it back to the car after a long slog. But what would happen when it is much colder and windier? When I’ve already skied 150 miles, not fifteen? When I don’t have a warm car and a bowl of soup at the end of the day, but only a sleeping bag and frozen chunks of peanut butter? And I have to get up and do it all again in a few hours? These are all concerns that I’ve had for a long time, but they all hit me at once as I looked across the barren expanse of Flathorn Lake.

Just before the four hour mark, we turned around and headed back. I skated as much as possible and resorted to classic ski shuffling when needed. Surprisingly, the shuffling was only marginally slower than skate skiing. My worries haunted me for the entire return trip.

It was almost 8 PM when we finished. It had been a 7.5 hour ski. Scott and I had a bowl of bean soup and a Coke at the General Store before heading home. It was a great day of training, and yet I went to bed that night feeling much less optimistic about my race than I had the day before.  I told my wife I thought I had a 20% percent chance of finishing the race.

On Sunday, I loaded up my sled again, but I didn’t have time for a long ski. I skied the trails at Kincaid Park instead. It was amazing how much easier it was to ski the firm corduroy of Kincaid. Even the steepest hills of the Lekisch Loop were easier than the flat section line from Saturday. I skied for two hours and felt like I could have kept going forever.

Sunday’s workout lifted my spirits quite a bit. I’m now pretty confident that I could make it to McGrath if the whole trail was groomed like Kincaid Park. Which is to say, I’ve still got a lot of work to do.

2009 Iditarod Trail Invitational

Thursday, January 8th, 2009

“It’s a dream until you write it down.  Then it becomes a goal.” – source unknown

 

It’s a goal until you post it on the internet.  Then it becomes a commitment.  

I am going to attempt the 2009 Iditarod Trail Invitational race to McGrath.  This is a 350 mile race through remote, frozen Alaska that competitors can tackle on bike, ski or foot (I’ll ski, of course).  The race has also been known as the Iditasport, the Alaska Ultrasport, and many other names throughout its varied history.  

For those unfamiliar with this race, it follows the Iditarod Sled Dog race trail.  The entire course is in the middle of nowhere, far from any roads or towns.  There are some remote cabins and lodges along the way, but that’s about it.  Racers can go to McGrath (350 miles) or all the way to Nome (1100 miles).  I’m doing the ‘short’ option.    The race website claims that this is the “World’s Longest Winter Ultra Race.”  There are a few checkpoints along the way, but for the most part each racer must be self-sufficient as far as food, clothing, navigation, and safety.  For more on this race, go to the race website, or read this recent piece from the New York Times.

The race will take about a week, plus or minus a few days depending on conditions.  There will be a lot of darkness, sub-zero temperatures, wind, snow and many other obstacles.

Why am I doing this?  Here is the backstory.

As you probably know, I was a full-time ski racer until 2002, usually training in the neighborhood of 15-20 hours a week. When I gave up ski racing and moved to Alaska, I was happy to no longer keep a training log or go to the weight room twice a week. I kept in decent shape simply by doing what I wanted, when I wanted. Even with a pretty steep drop-off in training hours, I was still in good shape. I liked to joke that I had 90% of my fitness with 50% of the effort.

Then, in 2006 my job became more time consuming. In 2007, Linda and I had a baby.  My decline in fitness, which had been relatively slow, began to accelerate. My race results went from “slightly less than I hoped for” to “slightly embarrassing.” I was getting soft, but I wasn’t gaining weight. In fact I was losing a few pounds, which meant my muscle mass was decreasing. My fitness was on a slippery slope, in danger of going off a cliff.  I didn’t want to pass the point of no return, where getting back into shape would require a herculean effort.  I needed a goal to motivate me.  Run-of-the-mill ski races weren’t going to cut it.  The goal needed to be not only challenging, but intimidating.

So a year ago, I decided that I wanted to ski the 2008 Iditarod Invitational race to McGrath. It was a third priority, behind family and work, but I still thought I could get in decent shape for it. The race is expensive, so I had a “wait and see” approach. I would wait and see if I was able to get into shape, before I would plunk down the $800 entry fee.

Well, between work and a newborn baby, I did not get in shape and thus did not sign up for the race. But when race day came, I found myself wishing I was out there, even without the training.  I decided then that I would do the race in 2009.  No more wait and see.  I needed to get the ball rolling.

I started ski-specific training on September 1st. I’ve been getting my gear together. I’ve been planning overnight trips to practice my winter survival skills.  I’ve been experiementing with different foods in frozen environments.  And a month ago, I plunked down my $800.  I’m on the list.

Now that the race is less than two months away, my preparation has kicked into high gear.  Check back often for updates on training, gear, and other thoughts as I prepare for this challenge.

Nordic Skating at Nancy Lakes

Sunday, November 9th, 2008

I think that Nordic skates were created with a place like Nancy Lakes in mind. The Nancy Lakes area is a collection of small lakes and ponds, many of which are connected by short portage trails to create a loop. If you did the loop on regular skates, you’d end up spending most of your time putting your skates on and off between lakes. But with Nordic skates, you can clip in and clip out in a matter of seconds.

Yesterday there was up to an inch of snow on the lakes, and about 4-6 inches in the woods. This wasn’t ideal for skating, but it did open up the possibility of skating the lakes and skiing the woods – all without changing boots!

Tim, Ian and I took advantage of the conditions to do a 26 mile ski & skate loop that hit 22 lakes (both numbers are approximate). Two years ago, Tim and I did the normal Nancy Lakes canoe trail in under two hours. This time we were looking to do a bigger loop. We took ski blades, classic skis, and wore combi or skate boots. We basically encircled the entire Nancy Lakes area, except for Nancy Lake itself. The loop took five hours. The skating was good (even with the snow) and the skiing wasn’t too bad. We skated very quickly across the lakes, but sometimes got bogged down breaking trail on skis. Some parts of the route hadn’t seen any human traffic yet this season.

Its not often that these conditions occur, and we had a great time taking advantage of them. Check out my photos by clicking the photo below. Also check out Tim’s photos and video here.

 

Nancy Lakes Ski Blading

 

Tokositna Loop Ski

Friday, March 28th, 2008
 

Tokositna Loop Ski

 

March 28: Three years ago, Linda and I skied and camped on the Curry Ridge Rider trails near Trapper Creek. Ever since then, I have wondered if it would be possible to ski a big loop up and around the Tokositna River using those trails. When I recently read that the CRR had just finished creating such a loop, I couldn’t wait to ski it. Tim Kelley also has some good pictures of this trip (and many, many others).


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