Iditarod Trail Invitational by Andy Wilson
Sat 28th February saw the start of this years Iditarod Trail Invitational. A race across Alaska where competitors choose between travelling by foot, mountain bike or ski for the 350 miles along the traditional Iditarod trail from Knik Lake, near Anchorage, to McGrath in the Alaskan interior. The route follows the same course as the traditional Iditarod dog race which starts just a week later, tracing a route through remote Alaska wilderness, while crossing the Alaska mountain range, and this being the Alaskan winter competitors can expect temperatures down to -40C.
MORE...
The race is, perhaps unsurprisingly, not flooded with applicants. Those that do apply are vetted and some turned away each year. There are very good reasons for this, not least the remoteness of the course, the minimal support once the race is on, and the harshness of the environment. Entrants are expected to be able to look after themselves in extreme conditions. There is a limit of just 50 entrants, and this year just 32 were accepted by the race director. Of these just 26 made it to the start line. It was an international line up with competitors from Slovenia, France, Italy, the UK, as well as those from the continental USA and Alaska itself.
There were 7 entrants from the UK, myself included, more than quarter of the field. The Brits have long been keen to meet extreme challenges, so much the better if there is a chance of freezing to death. This is not lost on the race director - just being British is a plus point when it comes to acceptance. We are, apparently, more willing to accept that getting ourselves out of any mess we might have willingly got ourselves into, is our own responsibility - and not his. This is not to say he has any disregard for competitor safety, far from it, but rather would like to ensure that everyone who steps onto the line is up to the task whatever happens and will enjoy rather than endure the race.
prequel
It didn't start too well when I was nearly turned away by US immigration at Minneapolis airport. "How had I managed to take 4 weeks off work" they asked. Well actually I'm "between jobs". Oops, wrong answer. Apparently this made me a prime candidate to overstay my "welcome" and freeload off the American state.
I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition... I was asked to step into a side office where a truly odious official went through all my papers - flight tickets, printouts about the race, itinerary, wallet, etc. He quizzed me about my criminal past, and was frankly shocked that I didn’t have one - not even any minor misdemeanors? By the end I was sure I must be guilty of something - I just couldn't remember what. It was with ill grace that he finally gave up trying to find a reason to put me on the first flight home and let me go.
We arrived a week before the race to prepare drop bags for shipping down the course to Finger Lake and Rohn, and then spent 6 days going back and forth to REI to buy stuff - any stuff really as long as it passed the time.
The Wednesday before race day some of us went out to the race start to ride, run and ski the first part of the course. This was also the first time I pulled my sled, covering 16 miles. It felt ok, but there were a just few minor adjustments needed to the sled. Thursday I went and bought a new one (yes, from REI).
During the week we watched The Thin White Line on video, twice. This is the story of the 2001 race and is a superb film - I can't recommend it highly enough. Just don't watch it immediately before you're going to start the race for the first time. Save it for after the race, or if you have no intention of entering at all. Trust me on this or you might have some doubts about starting – I did. Quote of the film for me was an old guy at the Nikolai checkpoint after the Burn: "This fella came in... he was more dead than alive...". He was talking about Rocky Reifenstuhl, a hugely experienced racer, who would then take 3 days to recover before continuing to McGrath.
Race day dawned, bright and clear, though not very cold. Most of us travelled by coach from Anchorage to Knik, a very quiet trip, not much chatter. Bill has said during the week that rookies don’t tend to do very well, because they simply don’t know how best to manage the race especially with regard to what kit to take. When you’ve got to haul it 350 miles a few pounds can make a big difference to your finish time. “You carry you insecurities with you” – looking around I seem to be a lot more insecure than most other racers, as my sled has twice as much kit as some others.
Just time for a quick cheeseburger and fries - food of champions - in Knik Roadhouse before the race. Funny how only the Brits think this is a good idea.
At 2pm the klaxon sounds and everyone skitters off across Knik lake. This first stretch claims quite a few, particularly the cyclists who find a thin dusting of snow over glassy ice doesn’t offer too much traction, and several find themselves the wrong way up. Some several times.
knik lake to luce's lodge
Once past the lake the route followed firmer ground with a clear trail through forests and frozen swamps. I settled into a comfortable pace and soon most of the competitors disappeared into the distance, in front and behind. I some sled problems to begin with, my sleeping mat and sleeping bag falling off fairly early on. Thankfully I noticed this straight away and it wasn’t serious, other than the rising concern about what mess I would be in if they fell of and I didn’t notice. Things improved, but I was dogged with sled problems at times for most of the race.
The first part of the route is probably the most confusing for route finding. Being close to civilisation, unlike the rest of the course, there are numerous well used tracks, and it is very easy to choose one leading somewhere you don't want to go. Fortunately I had listened closely to the few route hints that Bill had given out in the week and I chose the right way. Later on it would become easier with no more than one route to follow.
As night fell I was nearing Flathorn Lake. The trail I was on dropped into a frozen creek and up again the other side. Then another creek with the trail again rising up the other side. The trail now seemed poorly used, much less so than the trail I had been on, so doubts began to grow, though I'm certain it is going in the right direction. Then I saw some lights ahead - this must be a snowmachiner who could tell me where the path comes out. As the light gets closer I see some ski tips below it.
Its not a snowmachiner but Brane, Marco and Oakley coming the other way. I'm surprised to see them not just because they're going the wrong way (perhaps) but because I was sure I was well behind them. They had given up on this trail and were trying to find a cabin which Brane is convinced he has GPS coordinates for. I'm not interested in the cabin and am convinced that this trail, though not necessarily the right one, is going the right direction and will take me forward. After some discussion they turn around again and follow me. Shortly, just as my doubts are starting to rise, Flathorn Lake appears through the trees to our left and the trail drops down to the lake. Never in doubt… Just in front of us, in the gloom, is the Red Bull tent, which the sponsors have set up, replete with roaring fire, bagels, Red Bull and water, though the drinks are both slush.
We sit down for a rest, but despite the fire it’s not too warm. Brane reveals that he has broken one of his skiis on the trail just before the lake. Its snapped about 30cm back from the tip and is unusable - he doesn’t have a spare. Brane had been intending to complete the entire course to Nome, but now his race seems over after just 30 miles. There is little we can say.
As the chill seeps in the rest of us set off again leaving Brane to contemplate how he can rescue his race. The route soon joins the Susitna river and the trail becomes flat, relief after many miles of bumpy track which is awkward and painful to drag a sled over. The sled races down the bumps, poking the poles into your back, then stops dead snapping you back with a yank on the waist belt. Repeat ad-nauseum every 3 meters for mile after endless mile.
The temperature also falls to -13C which is actually quite comfortable while you are walking, though my Camelbak hose freezes despite the neoprene insulation and so I have nothing to drink. This is a hard lesson learnt and from now on I always keep the hose under several layers on clothes, and sometimes even this isn't enough.
The stretch up the river seems endless. It's the middle of the night and the natural light is strong enough that my headtorch isnt needed, but the monotonous trail makes time drag. Luce's lodge is the first checkpoint but we haven't been given any clear idea where it is, just that it's between 3 and 8 miles before Yentna Station Roadhouse and we can't miss it. At about 6am (16hrs in) I see a light ahead which must be the lodge. It seems so close, but the light plays tricks and its another 30 mins before I finally pull up the steep hill into the lodge.
Luce’s to skwentna
I ran into trouble in the section up to the 2nd checkpoint. The cold of the previous night soon lifted and due to fresh wet snow and warm conditions my feet soon got very wet. They were in a bad way, and I was concerned that they would blister badly if I carried on without drying them out. I was also very tired after 28hrs with only 3hrs break since the start, and no sleep for 36hrs. So with 20 miles to the checkpoint and the first place to dry out, I bivied on the river beside the trail to dry my feet out.
I didn’t get going again for 8hrs - which is really bad when most people bivi for no more than 2-3 hrs at a time. This allowed me to make the next checkpoint without too much damage, where I was able to dry all my kit out completely and have a rethink. Also at the CP I found 2 guys who had scratched from the foot race - John Stamstad (who has never been beaten in the race when on bike) and Tom Jarding (who won the foot race to Nome in 2001). This was a huge shock. Also pulling out at Skwentna was David Barker Milner one of the British bikers and veteran of many Iditasport races. I have to admit it crossed my mind briefly as I was very tired, wet and still had 260 miles to go. This was also a cheap place to get out, further up the trail it would get very expensive to scratch.
It had snowed all day and there were several inches of snow covering the trails. There was no prospect of a clear trail up to the next checkpoint, and conditions were getting worse all the time, but I had no wish to break trail all the way by myself through the night. I wasn't even sure I was strong enough, especially when I thought of the 260 miles still to go. Several other athletes arrived at the roadhouse and Rob Kehrer, Oakley Cochran and myself decided to join up and share the work breaking trail. We left at 3am the next morning.
skwentna roadhouse to finger lake lodge
From this checkpoint I wore overboots over my trainers and ditched the "waterproof" socks. This worked much better and my feet stayed pretty dry for the rest of the race. We set out into several inches of fresh snow as we started climbing into the Alaska range, and though we shared the trail-breaking this was tough going. The trail wound through trees over the Shell Hills and didn’t seem to have been used by a snowmachine for some time.
By lunchtime we reached Shell Lake lodge and had a break, some food and a beer. Zoe, the owner, told us that some workmen were on their way from Finger Lake to use her welder. This was great news as their snowmachines would clear the trail of the fresh snow. We left in the afternoon once they had arrived and going was much easier over the packed trail. Our luck didn't last though and it soon started snowing again, covering the trail and making pulling hard again. I saw then why some train by pulling tyres, as I had increasing problems with my hip flexors, caused by having to haul the sled through the fresh snow. We arrived in Finger Lake at 01:30am and now I had something else to worry about.
finger lake lodge to puntilla
We crashed out at Finger Lodge for a few hours, and decided to leave just after lunch. The trail ahead was unbroken with several inches of fresh snow, but Rich Crane, the trail-sweep, arrived and offered to ride his snowmachine for a dozen or so miles down the trail to make it easier. He also told us about a cabin about half way to Puntilla where we could take a break. Oakley set off later but caught us just as we reached Shirley lake and the cabin where we took a break for a few hours and grabbed a couple of hours sleep, setting off again just after midnight.
It had stopped snowing now and the sky was clear. The temperature dipped but only to about -15C. You could just make out the outline of the mountains in the moonlight. This was the first time we had had any sort of view and as dawn broke it was just spectacular.
By midday we pulled out of the trees and finally into Puntilla where we were met by Bill and Kathi. The checkers who should be there haven’t been able to fly in because of the conditions so there have been some rearrangements and Bill and Kathi are manning these checkpoints either side of the pass themselves. Bill told us that since the fresh snow he had been over the pass a couple of times and there were also a number of guys working on the trail who had used the trail so it would be hard and clear of fresh snow. Great news.
Rainy Pass is where the route crosses the Alaska range with a top height of about 3600ft. Almost all competitors before us had set out at dawn and crossed in daylight. We arrived at Puntilla at 2pm and did not want to waste time, also conditions were good and there was a clear trail. We were warned that there was snow in Anchorage and it could be heading this way - we didn’t want to get caught in more new snow. So, a short break at Puntilla and we set off for another hut which Bill had told us about, about half way to the pass, getting there just before dark. We could see where earlier racers had not had such luck - with snow covering the trail they had struggled to keep on it - sinking deep into the snow where they had strayed off.
Puntilla to rohn
So we stopped for a short kip at the hut and then set out late evening in the dark but with clear skies and moonlight. The night started out clear with the mountains ridges defined by moonlight, but in the last few miles up to Rainy Pass the clouds rolled in and the wind started up. Rob & I crossed the pass at 05:30 in a snowstorm. In some places in the few minutes between us his tracks had completely disappeared.
Oakley had left the hut an hour after us, and being on skiis we expected here to catch us. She hadn't, so once we found somewhere we thought was out of avalanche danger down the far side of the pass Rob & I bivied to wait. 90mins later, and just as we were thinking of going back up to look for her she appeared, and we could set off down the pass for Rohn and the Northern side of the Alaskan range - the drier, and colder, side.
rohn to bison camp
By Rohn it was clear we could catch the Italians. Oakley's feet were in a real bad way - she would scratch 40 miles further on - so she stayed on longer at Rohn to recover and Rob and I carried on without her setting off at about 4am. It was now much colder as we gradually left the mountains behind and entered the Farewell Burn and expanse of stunted trees just recovering from a devastating fire decades ago.
The sun is going to be out so after dawn I try and put some contact lenses in so that I can wear sunglasses. I wear daily disposables. The first I open is frozen, several more simply wont stick to my eye, perhaps because it’s too dry. I get cold so give up and go back to my glasses. The glare doesn’t prove to be much of a problem fortunately.
The terrain was now much flatter after Rohn but I was struggling with the sled. I couldn't fit everything on very well and my kitbag hung over the back. I didn't notice but it was dragging in the snow behind the sled like an anchor. After 30 miles I finally sorted it out and got a new lease of life.
On the trail I finally see some major wildlife when a moose appears on the trail ahead. We have been warned about moose as they are massive animals, can kick with all four feet and are bad tempered on a good day. Probably the most dangerous animal you can come across out there. This one runs away – this is hunting country and moose get shot around here so it’s a bit more wary than the ones you find in Anchorage.
Brane later tells a story about also seeing a moose on the same stretch. This is at night and the moose doesn’t move initially. There really isn’t the option to walk around because off the trail you would be floundering in deep snow. Then the moose runs off. Brane glances over his shoulder and not far behind him are four eyes shining in the dark. We’re told that wolves don’t attack healthy adult humans but I can imagine that isn’t really very reassuring in that situation.
The next stop was a Bison camp - 2 wooden walled, canvas ceilinged tents in the middle of the Burn. Here it is very remote - from Rohn (which itself it a temporary campsite only populated for this race and the Iditarod) Bison camp is the about the only inhabited site before the small village of Nikolai. We reached Bison camp at about 9pm with the temp falling to about -25C (my watch display stopped working) and set off again at about 4am with the temp below -30C. Moose stew was the only thing on the menu (breakfast, lunch and dinner) - but it was one of the most outstanding meals I have had.
John Runkle the owner delighted in telling us about Carl Hutchings who had taken a bad fall before Rohn and had to be flown out to McGrath for stitches. He flew back in to Rohn and picked up the race now having lost a lot of time to the other Brit cyclists. With favourable trail conditions he arrived at Bison camp as they slept and when John suggested Carl go and say he'd arrived Carl replied: "No, I think I'll just keep riding along". And with that he stole a march on the rest of them.
In the warmth of the tent I was able to remove some layers and take a look at my arm, which had been hurting since before Puntilla. It was a bit of a shock to find the whole forearm badly swollen, and a grating feeling when I rotate the arm. I have to cut the wristband of my base layer to relieve some of the pressure, but there's not a lot else that can be done here. It was difficult to leave the warmth in the bitter cold before dawn.
Another 40 miles to Nikolai over the fairly flat Burn in a bitterly cold day, the temperature barely rising above -20C. As night fell I frost-nipped my fingers as I took too much time sorting out my headtorch. Very painful - it took 30mins to an hour for them too warm up and they still feel a little numb. At those temperatures not being careful about even small tasks can be very costly, as you cant afford to uncover your hands for very long at a time.
The end now seemed in sight but to add to the physical hardship came boredom. On foot you can guarantee it will take about 14 hours to cover the 40 miles. Nothing can get around that, and between Bison camp and Nikolai the trail is flat and quite monotonous. We finally arrived at Nikolai at about 9pm. This is a sizeable place especially after the wilderness we've been through, and we find that the checkpoint is on the far side of the village, another 15 minutes walk, though people from the village guide us there.
nikolai to mcgrath
One more stretch to go and the monotony continues, the last stretch was a long a winding, though flat, 48 miles to McGrath. 8 more miles than the previous day so about 18hrs but with the finish in site we plan to go to the finish. A nice sunny day and spectacular scenery.
This stretch is less remote with quite a lot of snow mobile traffic, relatively speaking, between McGrath and Nikolai. One time a snowmobiler stopped for a chat. He soon gets out a vodka bottle and asks if I would be offended if he has a drink. The locals are very friendly but alcohol is a problem and he seems already half cut. I decline his kind offer of a swig of vodka and he eventually rides off. Whenever I see another snowmobile I cant help but be concerned that the rider is probably drunk, travelling at about 60mph+ on a machine weighing several hundred kilos and speeding past me a few metres away. As long as he misses all the me’s he can see I’ll be fine…
The temperature didn’t let up all day, never getting above –20C with my watch recording -35C just before we arrived in McGrath - and still falling hitting -40C later during the night.
We arrive after midnight and the house is quiet, so sign in and crash out on the living room floor. Some finishers have left for Anchorage already but some are still there including the 2 Italians, Marco and Gigi, who had finished a day earlier. Handshakes and congratulations all round over breakfast.
We had just beaten the first Iditarod dog teams into McGrath - they do start a week after us. We watch Jeff King and Martin Buser as they arrive that afternoon.
postscript
Of the 26 who started, 8 dropped out, mainly through injury. 9 were intending to go on to Nome, but just Tim Hewitt did (he made it in just over 22 days). The rest called it a day in McGrath due to poor trail conditions. It was unquestionably the hardest event I am ever likely to do, unless I come back to go to Nome ;-)
Throughout the race we were plagued by bumps in the trail - moguls really - cause by snow machines. The sled would speed up down the slope, ramming the poles into your back, then stop dead pulling back savagely on the waistbelt. Despite all the provocation I only kicked the sled once. There is much I have to learn about good sled design if I'm ever going to do this again.
Posted by: Admin on Jul 04, 04 | 12:40 pm |
Profile
