When Ed and Ann first created the White Mountains 100 race 3 years ago I was immediately drawn to it. As opposed to the (in my mind) boring slog of the Susitna 100 course, the WM 100 is in the rolling mountains north of Fairbanks in a far flung wilderness area that I doubt I would visit if it were not for an event like this. Good excuse to sign up for a 100.
The question lingered.. Bike or Ski? I knew I did not want to have repeats of knee inflammation and the doubts of failure that come with "knowing" an old injury will flare up. So I put the idea of biking out the door all together and started training in December for the longest skate ski of my nordic existence. It took some getting used to. I know what it feels like to bike for 12+ hours, but I'm usually pretty well thrashed after 2 or 3hrs nordic skiing, so knew I needed a way more solid base for the skate specific muscles. Then came all the other stuff that not comes with it, basically figuring out backcountry enduro skate skiing. I did a bunch of (cold) 4+ hr skis in December leading to the 50 mile sufferfest Frosty Bottom in January. Did not get many other long skis other than the usual daily exercise under my belt until a few weeks before the race where I did some 5 hr jaunts with a pack to beat my self up. Raced the 50k classic in the Oosik to get super sore the weekend before the Whites (not the best idea but great fun) and my training was complete.
Along the way I confirmed that traveling light was key and that I really needed to stay on top of the calories for these long skis. Unlike biking where if my blood sugar dives I can still plug along spaced out but moving... skate skiing does not offer that luxury (for me at least), things get ugly really quick when you don't take care of yourself due to the coordination involved.
Anyway, off we go. 6 hr drive north to Fairbanks, jolly group of skiers Abby, Chris Wood and Drew Harrington. Pre-race meeting, crashed at Jeff Oatley's place. Awake at 5:00 brewing coffee and eating manfest with Brain Hartman and Tim B who ended up going on to win it. Temps around 7 degrees on the rolling drive north to the start. Off we go.
The setup, .5L nalgene on the shoulder strap (carried 1L more in pack) and 2 modified mtn feedbags on the waist belt, all worked fantastic.
The fast skiers, Rob on the right was gunning it with the lead bikers till mile 60-70 until the trail got bomber for riding.
Surprisingly enough I had zero jitters at the start, I was really relaxed. When someone yelled "GO" I looked over and saw Drew in a last minute panic with a binding problem, so I helped him for a minute while mostly everyone save the walkers cleared out, then started almost dead last in a nice and relaxed pace trying trying to get around people on the initial climb. The sunlight increased dramatically showing through diffuse snow laden clouds. It would snow on and off through the whole race, moments of bluebird, moments of blizzard.
At some point I caught up to Chris Wood, which was fun since we used to work together and we were both equally psyched about the race. Chris is a strong dude and has been skiing way longer than me, so I was happy to pace and swap leads with him for this whole first leg. Right away though the trail was FUN, really fun, lots of climbing and really fast micro-air-catching downhills which on nordic gear is pretty exciting.
Climbing and more climbing. Tips catching, bikers everywhere, such was the story all the way to CP1 which ended with a mile long climb just barely wide enough to hack away skating up. The bikers were all walking so I passed quite a few. CP1 was a few wall tents and some trail side snacks. Chris pulled in right behind me. I pounded some warm water, fritos and cookies and took off. I'm not one for checkpoints really and I did not want to cool down much from the big up hill. The trail from there followed a broad ridge line that continued to climb and descend through an old burn. This was my least favorite part of the race. The trail was the worst, soft and narrow on the climbs with bits of veg that liked catching ski tips causing face plants. I started leap frogging with a crew of bikers including Michael Braun, which was great, some of the other guys were a bit too serious for my tastes never saying much of anything. Misery loves company so might as well laugh about it, ok fine I'll just laugh to myself.
photo by M. Braun. notice the impeccable technique.
The burn did provide a sense of getting deeper and deeper out there, which I love. Big views off into big wilderness. A place you could just disappear into were it not for a ribbon of trail snaking around a 100 mile loop...
Finally the big descent down to Beaver creek. It was basically a 2 step descent, the first being a long straight shot screamer laden with craters and trenches left by bikers, then a flat, then a really steep drop down to the creek itself with a 90 deg right at the bottom. Ho LE SHIT, this descent was nuts. I started going really fast on the first part sketching out and floating over bike craters before I said BRAKES! and sat down for a half controlled half crash butt slide. ok that worked, nothing broken.. Thinking I was good I put my mitts back into the ski straps (bad idea) and skied the flats and started bombing drop #2, snow plow, oh fuck, too fast, I'm gonna eat it, edge edge turn runn it out yyyeaaaaahhh made it to the creek unscathed and all fired up and proceeded to stomp out the rolling 6 miles to Cache mtn cabin under blue skies. Doing it, feeling good 40 miles in.
I pulled into Cache mtn and found Bill Pearson and his sister Kate getting ready to head out. I was psyched to see them since it meant I was actually keeping a decent pace going. They good skiers and have both done the race in the past. But for now it was time to chow. Cache mtn was to be a fuel up spot for me. Gloves over the stove, sit down, lean against the wall and shovel in baked potato covered with moose chili & cheese, chased down with coke, cookies and pringles. Does not get any better for checkpoint fuel. Chris pulled in pretty soon after me and started the same routine. His back was bugging him so he stayed a while and unfortunately this was the last I'd see him for the race. Right after Cris was Russ Devries who was skiing on Classic gear. I could not freaking believe it and was really impressed he was going so fast. Russ ended up finishing about an hour after me. Maybe I need to come back and Classic ski it next time and see what I'm missing...
Hard to leave CP2 with the sun shining and abundant food but there's a pass to climb out there. The trail basically is flat then starts to gradually climb and climb and climb to Cache mountain Divide, the high point on the course. It was hot. mid-20's with sun. I was roasting in the effort and finally threw in the towl and took off the thin tights I had under my pants. This was a bit of a trail side chore that took a few minutes and I second guessed myself several times knowing that I was heading up high into snow and wind. oh well. I was hot. At the start of the climb the trail was infuriatingly narrow. I walked a few of the short steep ones and started to get down... then.... the bulb went off and I dug out the secret weapons. nano-skins armed I started stomping away, climbs be dammed I was moving. Not much glide but I was basically running and putting out far less energy than trying to marathon skate or walk it. Head down, stomp, stomp. If I keep it up and don't stop it's going to work. Higher. Passing bikers, more bikers, ski boot foot prints.. 2 sets of ski boots prints! - Bill and Kate. I'm gonna get them damn it. stomp stomp. post hole tracks, another biker. stomp stomp. fewer trees...getting colder, snowing more.. why did I take off my tights?... these gloves suck.. wait.. is that Bill?? with a defeated look he yells,"DO YOU HAVE A SKIN?" "I have TWO!" I catch Bill really close to the pass, I feel bad for him, but not enough to linger, he's going to out ski me anyway so I might as well get some ground. Almost white out conditions at the pass but basically a party going on of snowmachiners. This was the one dichotomy of this event - it's in a remote wilderness area, but you're never more than 12 miles from a cabin and there is a small army of safety and support staff out there. But this was fun as I feeling great having made such good time up the climb. Skin's ripped, hoodini armed, puff mitts on - Down.
Photo by Josh Spice
Totally flat light, can't see shit. just 4" wide tire trenches and craters from crashing bikers, passed 2 guys hip-deep wallowing off the trail. a bit of skating and I hit the famed Ice lakes meeting up with Michael Braun and Bill again. The ice lakes are a section of massive overflow ice sloping downhill with usually anywhere from toe to knee deep water on the surface. We had reports of moderate overflow still so I stopped to put garbage bags over my boots/overboots and cliped in, better than nothing. Gingerly double poling onto the ice I almost right away eat it and both my feet go shin deep in ice water. crap. keep moving.
Getting through the lakes went pretty quick and was not too bad. Bill and I skiied out together swooping and gliding down tight trail with some great views of the limestone craigs through the blowing snow. Really a sweet section of the course to travel in any mode. A few short up's and I started roasting and had to drop the wind jacket and swap to my wet thinner lobster gloves. A bit more overflow right before Windy Gap Cabin for the third checkpoint.
Bill near the cool craig's.
On the menu was meatballs and soupy rice, even though I was feeling strong overall, the was starting to catching up to me. My lower back was pretty thrashed and my right elbow tendonitis was cooking a medium burn, this was making me compensate more poling with my left side which and I was slowly getting pretty jacked up from the modified technique. The bummer about Windy Gap was Kate was there feeling like crap and ended up scratching. I was pretty stoked about everything and it was probably not the energy she wanted to hear. So I cleared out of there fairly quick assuming that Bill was going to catch me at some point.
This next leg was wild, from here on out I felt more or less by myself till the finish. The trail was fun, rolling, generally downhill for a bit across ice and swooping through big evergreen forests, a little erie and wild for sure. Michael on his bike started leap frogging until he disappeared ahead of me on a gradual climb.
After about 10 miles the trail hung a left and had a steep climb that I walked up to gain a side valley that the course traversed to get to the Borealis cabin. Light was fading and with the light out went my distractions. I was either totally zoned out completely forgetting miles, or totally focused on some ache, pain or slowly failing muscle group. Of all the checkpoints so far this one I was REALLY ready to get to. Everything was starting to hurt and I did not want to stop to get my light out, temps were dropping and my legs were just barely comfortable without any under layers. But soon enough pulled into the Borealis cabin and wallked up the hill complete with battery run christmas lights. nice touch.
"We love Skiers!" was the reception I got. awesome. I had the place to myself with 2 happy volunteers who immediately offered me everything in their stock, including ramen and homemade bread. yum. I took the opportunity to strip down and dry out my super fleece over the stove and hoped my crappy gloves would dry just a touch. Sufficiently fed and layered up I cleared out when the place started filling up with bikers.
Alright 20 miles with tons more climbing, headlamp on here we go. Almost right off the trail climbs forever. I bailed pretty quick and re-activated my secret weapons. Slow but low energy output, passed the 2 pushing bikers with ease even though they flew by me on the flats shortly after. Off camber ice, more overflow, rolling terrain. Headlamps dancing in space ahead of me, flashing red lights taunting me. Were they 2 miles ahead or 200 feet? I could not tell. Reached the 90 mile trail shelter feeling pretty thrashed but stopped in to say hi to Robin and Dean. Robin snapped me out of my funk by putting boiling water in my bottle which I proceeded to chug and we all know how that goes. tasted nothing for about a day. whatever, I have the wall to climb so let's get it over with.
When the hell am I going to get to this thing? The famed Wickersham wall climbs about 1,000' to gain the ridge were were to get back to the start. But just getting to it felt like forever. I had the thought that 80 or even 90 mile ski races might be better idea than 100's. At some point the skies cleared and the temps started to drop. I could not really tell though if I it was an actual temp drop of if my body was just not putting out any extra heat, either way it was getting chilly, gone were the pangs of heat and sweat when battling up short climbs. There was one bad overflow section right at the base of the wall, I went ankle deep in water and immediately had to hike up the bank on the other side. Instant binding ice down. I spent about 15 or more minutes here trying to get clipped back into my bindings and had to resort to digging out the little can of lock de-icer I bought just for the occasion. To the wall - skins back on and stomped away. Kept a steady pace and got to the top without much trouble, switching to striding was a nice change as my skate muscles were toast.
I stole this photo from Josh Spice's blog. This is the view from the top of the wall, except imagine it in total darkness with a 50' headlamp beam. I need to come back here and go faster to see it the daylight.
Backtracking for 6 miles the way we came out from the start to finish. I was wasted and could barely skate at this point. The colder temps, fresh snow and wax job with 95 miles in it made it all feel really, really slow. Working hard for the glide. More climbing, walking the steep ones. Snowmachine moguls, are you kidding me? am I bonking so close to the finish? can't be... did we really descend so f-ing much in the beginning of the race? endless climbing. one mile to finish sign and a fun fast rolling downhill to end it.
Somehow it was almost 3:00am when I finished, but in the darkness I had lost all sense of time. It was so good to be done, so much had happened. The White's had delivered. Walking away from it the race was everything that was expected and more. Beautiful, hard and above all, really fun with the best organization you could imagine. Thank you Ed and Ann for the hard work and to all the many volunteers that make this event so awesome.
The aftermath.. Abby finished about an hour after me totally rocking it being the first woman skier, we tried driving back to Fairbanks and had a nap car bivy en-route. Slept about 5 hrs in Fairbanks then drove 6 back to Anchorage. Happily I felt pretty much recovered with no injuries within a few days but have generally been lazy since. Breakup is upon us and I'm looking foreword to biking again after such a ski focused winter.
Saturday, April 07, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
Grandaddy ++
Finally got out snowboarding again in the ridiculous snow year we are having.
This tree tells the story pretty well:
Turns out Blogger updated their photo system, so click the images below for a better view, it's worth it :)
So Jeff, Najeeby and I headed back to Grandaddy. Apt name for it, long haul up the valley between Corn Biscuit and Lips.
These next photos are climbing the skyline in the photo above.
not bad not bad, if you're into winter and mountains that is. Yeah!
Tommy moe run on the W face of Grandaddy. BIG! Did Tommy ski it? I have no idea, but it's a proud line so I'm guessing he did. Jeff coming into where we could spot from... conditions were perfect, pretty slow snow made the angle feel a bit easier than it really is.
Back up and over. Not too cold this day, probably never got above zero but the sun actually felt warm at times, actually only right here I think.
yes the swallowtail was happy.
Nice chute to get back to the valley we came up. After this Jeff and I skinned over and booted up the thing in the background for a run on the Mistress, oh the Mistress.
climbing one of her thighs.. light fading.
Jeff ready to go down on the Mistress at sunset.
sick day, 3 new runs for me, 2 of which have long been of lore and intimidation. Good (and stable!) conditions make it happen. Will have no problem sewing little bags all day tomorrow.
This tree tells the story pretty well:
Turns out Blogger updated their photo system, so click the images below for a better view, it's worth it :)
So Jeff, Najeeby and I headed back to Grandaddy. Apt name for it, long haul up the valley between Corn Biscuit and Lips.
These next photos are climbing the skyline in the photo above.
not bad not bad, if you're into winter and mountains that is. Yeah!
Tommy moe run on the W face of Grandaddy. BIG! Did Tommy ski it? I have no idea, but it's a proud line so I'm guessing he did. Jeff coming into where we could spot from... conditions were perfect, pretty slow snow made the angle feel a bit easier than it really is.
Back up and over. Not too cold this day, probably never got above zero but the sun actually felt warm at times, actually only right here I think.
yes the swallowtail was happy.
Nice chute to get back to the valley we came up. After this Jeff and I skinned over and booted up the thing in the background for a run on the Mistress, oh the Mistress.
climbing one of her thighs.. light fading.
Jeff ready to go down on the Mistress at sunset.
sick day, 3 new runs for me, 2 of which have long been of lore and intimidation. Good (and stable!) conditions make it happen. Will have no problem sewing little bags all day tomorrow.
Monday, January 02, 2012
Happy 2012
So it's been what, 5 months since I've updated this thing? Guess I'm not too into blogging lately. Maybe in 2012 I'll make more of an effort. doubt it!
Jeff, Najeeby Andy and I started the New Year off right. Temps never got above zero and the wind was brisk on the ridges but conditions could not be any better. Skied Todd's run on Tincan in perfect top to bottom powder. Then climbed up the left side back to the top and did one of the south face lines between Proper and the hippie bowl, superb conditions that felt like those sweet pow lines you seen in ski films shot in Japan, skinny trees, steep, tons of snow, you get the idea. Up again for the wicked gnar line (thanks Andy) to the road. Wore the big gloves all day and the puffy pants emerged from the pack quite a bit.
Mostly skinning photos, the temps & wind were not conducive for exposing flesh for photography sake on the descents.
Looking over to Eddies and Wolverine, Joe and Cathy are somewhere along that ridge.
Had some of the deepest, almost underwater blue tones today - yelling at you "it's faaacking cold here", especially later over the 20 mile valley.
Heading down the South side
Happy New Year!
Jeff, Najeeby Andy and I started the New Year off right. Temps never got above zero and the wind was brisk on the ridges but conditions could not be any better. Skied Todd's run on Tincan in perfect top to bottom powder. Then climbed up the left side back to the top and did one of the south face lines between Proper and the hippie bowl, superb conditions that felt like those sweet pow lines you seen in ski films shot in Japan, skinny trees, steep, tons of snow, you get the idea. Up again for the wicked gnar line (thanks Andy) to the road. Wore the big gloves all day and the puffy pants emerged from the pack quite a bit.
Mostly skinning photos, the temps & wind were not conducive for exposing flesh for photography sake on the descents.
Looking over to Eddies and Wolverine, Joe and Cathy are somewhere along that ridge.
Had some of the deepest, almost underwater blue tones today - yelling at you "it's faaacking cold here", especially later over the 20 mile valley.
Heading down the South side
Happy New Year!
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
gear geekery
I've had a bunch of questions about gear for the beach trip so here goes. A key point in this however is not so much what, is how. What's loaded where is constantly in flux.
BIKE:
Old style pugsley, 80 mm chopper rims, larry's, thick surly tubes, singlespeed 22-20/22 with bashring, XT freewheel, surly front hub, no brakes, salsa 17 degree straight bars, square taper cranks, phil bb.
The trend with fat bike design is for more and more standover but I think it's over rated, it's not an issue for me and I'd rather have the frame bag space for big trips. If all I rode was winter singletrack then I'd have a different opinion.
Brakes are only useful when pushing and you want to keep the bike from slipping back, but they die no matter what within a few days, even if they don't die the sound of grinding grit will make you sick of them.
seat bag:
I used a stock Viscacha on this last trip and liked it better than the rack & drybag combo used on Yak-Cordova. Inside the bag I had 12 days of dinners and breakfasts in a fitted drybag, Iridium Satellite phone in hard case, the megamid and once some dinners were eaten, a spare surly tube. Totally full! I think this is the max length of trip for this setup. One trick I learned was that for stream crossings I could loosen the post and swing the seat 180 degrees keeping all the load, frame bag and seat bag (all the dense food weight) centered on the boat. Another advantage is less paddling interference than a rack for long paddles when the bike is stripped down, less to catch on bushwacking, and it's lighter. Man i sound like I'm sponsored by them of something.
Frame bag:
The bag I used was a big, simple, single zip, tapered front bag with 2 vertical dividers. I made heat sealed dry bags for the 2 vertical compartments which held my daytime snacks for 12 days. The front section held 2 x 20oz water bottles and pedals when they were off the bike. The skinny drybags worked very well since they were super easy to unload into my pack for schwacking and pushing. I took the bag completely off once and shoved it into my pack's beavertail when we played roulette with the La Parouse glacier and I wanted to be able to run with the totally stripped bike on my shoulder... and that I did!
Gas tank:
multi tool, chain lube, bug net, random crap. The new design kept more water out for sure.
Front:
Packraft and sometimes paddles loaded in a Sling. Worked good, last minute decision, I would have brought one of the small pockets next time to go with it. What was nice is that the straps could be used for other things.
Pack: old home made, 22 oz, 45-50ish L (?) with beavertail, no lid, frameless. Key to be able to unload bike to varying degrees and be able to carry everything. When biking it was pretty light with zero water or food weight, carrying only sleep stuff (go lite syn. quilt, prolite XS pad, sleep socks), clothing, ti cookpot, and random stuff drybag (camera batteries, repair kit, ibu) and PFD. I empty it every night and use it as the sleeping pad for my legs.
PDF - Opinions differ but I like using a real PDF, simple kokatat. Sure it's heavier and bulkier than alternatives but... Its safe in the water, part of my sleeping pad setup and can be used as an insulation layer under rain jacket giving a warm buffer between your body and wet pack, that's the clincher personally. On Yakutat north we wore them probably 40% of the time, all day for added warmth. We had superb weather so did not use it really at all for that on this trip.
Clothing:
Thin wool T, Ibex hooded indie, home made wind pro hooded fleece (similar to an R1 hoodie) older REI gossamer hooded puff, go lite storm rain jacket with modified wrist cuffs. Bottom: Patagonia R.5 tights, homemade fleece tights, homemade goretex rain pants with neoprene ankle cuffs and a extension that came up mid-torso. Patagonia release runners with sewn on mini gators (nice and durable uppers but the soles could be better... you are so close Patagonia!) wool socks, NRS hydroskin thin neoprene socks, simple kenai neoprene gloves (luxury).
Since the weather was so darn dry and warm on this trip I did not get to compare how the Ibex wool layer compared to just using fleece against skin. When it's really wet I like just a T, then fleece. Nothing long sleeve synthetic or wicking since it just stays wet and cold, wicking from wrist up.
Shelter:
MC and I shared a BD megalight mid, the other was a go-lite mid, using the paddle shaft as pole. Splat paddles works fine but the adjustable length of the Sawyer paddles sure is nice. no stakes, I use small parachutes made of ripstop and ribbon at the 4 corners for sand and rocks.
Raft:
Old stlye llama circa 2003, with old deck. 2 thick bungee's tied off on the front, mini biners on the other ends. works for me, tons of ways to go about it. The pro-lite XS fits like a glove behind and under the seat for back comfort and warmth.
Bike to Packraft changes:
The prep (or lack of) taken for paddling goes in varying degrees. Basically for quick river crossings and the water is mellow I just put the bike across the front and jump in the boat, Pack either still on my back, or on top of the bike. This way I can quickly jump out of the boat and get everything out of the water since the bike is not attached, It's fast and efficient and great for when there is quicksand, no eddys etc. This disaster style method (thank you Kelly Cordes) gets dodgy as Dylan and I once learned when there is any sort of wind / wave action which might move the bike on the deck, but for most stream crossings it's totally fine.
For long paddles, it's pedals off, seat post off, handle bar off and everything packed tight and compact. Doing this I can get full paddle stroke and go for hours.
Bike to schwack:
Minimally it's pedals off and handlebars unloaded. That's fine for most pushing. If Carrying is involved then food gets unloaded into the backpack using the drybags. For mega-schwacks the seapost gets dropped and the seat bag comes off.
What else? Lumix LX3 camera in a mini shoulder strap drybag case. Bear spray on pack strap bungee. Cookset was 4 oz of 99% alchool and a Ti pot. The alcohol used as fire starter and aquaseal repair prep. With the dry weather we cooked exclusively on fires had a minimum of 2 a day with abundant hot meals. If it had been raining lots, then fire starting would have been more interesting and I would have eaten more cheese and cookie dough for breakfast.
All this stuff has been learned through trial and error. After this trip the only change I'd make would have been bringing the dark lenses not yellow for my sunglasses and maybe a visor. That's it.
all my secrets. go nuts.
BIKE:
Old style pugsley, 80 mm chopper rims, larry's, thick surly tubes, singlespeed 22-20/22 with bashring, XT freewheel, surly front hub, no brakes, salsa 17 degree straight bars, square taper cranks, phil bb.
The trend with fat bike design is for more and more standover but I think it's over rated, it's not an issue for me and I'd rather have the frame bag space for big trips. If all I rode was winter singletrack then I'd have a different opinion.
Brakes are only useful when pushing and you want to keep the bike from slipping back, but they die no matter what within a few days, even if they don't die the sound of grinding grit will make you sick of them.
seat bag:
I used a stock Viscacha on this last trip and liked it better than the rack & drybag combo used on Yak-Cordova. Inside the bag I had 12 days of dinners and breakfasts in a fitted drybag, Iridium Satellite phone in hard case, the megamid and once some dinners were eaten, a spare surly tube. Totally full! I think this is the max length of trip for this setup. One trick I learned was that for stream crossings I could loosen the post and swing the seat 180 degrees keeping all the load, frame bag and seat bag (all the dense food weight) centered on the boat. Another advantage is less paddling interference than a rack for long paddles when the bike is stripped down, less to catch on bushwacking, and it's lighter. Man i sound like I'm sponsored by them of something.
Frame bag:
The bag I used was a big, simple, single zip, tapered front bag with 2 vertical dividers. I made heat sealed dry bags for the 2 vertical compartments which held my daytime snacks for 12 days. The front section held 2 x 20oz water bottles and pedals when they were off the bike. The skinny drybags worked very well since they were super easy to unload into my pack for schwacking and pushing. I took the bag completely off once and shoved it into my pack's beavertail when we played roulette with the La Parouse glacier and I wanted to be able to run with the totally stripped bike on my shoulder... and that I did!
Gas tank:
multi tool, chain lube, bug net, random crap. The new design kept more water out for sure.
Front:
Packraft and sometimes paddles loaded in a Sling. Worked good, last minute decision, I would have brought one of the small pockets next time to go with it. What was nice is that the straps could be used for other things.
Pack: old home made, 22 oz, 45-50ish L (?) with beavertail, no lid, frameless. Key to be able to unload bike to varying degrees and be able to carry everything. When biking it was pretty light with zero water or food weight, carrying only sleep stuff (go lite syn. quilt, prolite XS pad, sleep socks), clothing, ti cookpot, and random stuff drybag (camera batteries, repair kit, ibu) and PFD. I empty it every night and use it as the sleeping pad for my legs.
PDF - Opinions differ but I like using a real PDF, simple kokatat. Sure it's heavier and bulkier than alternatives but... Its safe in the water, part of my sleeping pad setup and can be used as an insulation layer under rain jacket giving a warm buffer between your body and wet pack, that's the clincher personally. On Yakutat north we wore them probably 40% of the time, all day for added warmth. We had superb weather so did not use it really at all for that on this trip.
Clothing:
Thin wool T, Ibex hooded indie, home made wind pro hooded fleece (similar to an R1 hoodie) older REI gossamer hooded puff, go lite storm rain jacket with modified wrist cuffs. Bottom: Patagonia R.5 tights, homemade fleece tights, homemade goretex rain pants with neoprene ankle cuffs and a extension that came up mid-torso. Patagonia release runners with sewn on mini gators (nice and durable uppers but the soles could be better... you are so close Patagonia!) wool socks, NRS hydroskin thin neoprene socks, simple kenai neoprene gloves (luxury).
Since the weather was so darn dry and warm on this trip I did not get to compare how the Ibex wool layer compared to just using fleece against skin. When it's really wet I like just a T, then fleece. Nothing long sleeve synthetic or wicking since it just stays wet and cold, wicking from wrist up.
Shelter:
MC and I shared a BD megalight mid, the other was a go-lite mid, using the paddle shaft as pole. Splat paddles works fine but the adjustable length of the Sawyer paddles sure is nice. no stakes, I use small parachutes made of ripstop and ribbon at the 4 corners for sand and rocks.
Raft:
Old stlye llama circa 2003, with old deck. 2 thick bungee's tied off on the front, mini biners on the other ends. works for me, tons of ways to go about it. The pro-lite XS fits like a glove behind and under the seat for back comfort and warmth.
Bike to Packraft changes:
The prep (or lack of) taken for paddling goes in varying degrees. Basically for quick river crossings and the water is mellow I just put the bike across the front and jump in the boat, Pack either still on my back, or on top of the bike. This way I can quickly jump out of the boat and get everything out of the water since the bike is not attached, It's fast and efficient and great for when there is quicksand, no eddys etc. This disaster style method (thank you Kelly Cordes) gets dodgy as Dylan and I once learned when there is any sort of wind / wave action which might move the bike on the deck, but for most stream crossings it's totally fine.
For long paddles, it's pedals off, seat post off, handle bar off and everything packed tight and compact. Doing this I can get full paddle stroke and go for hours.
Bike to schwack:
Minimally it's pedals off and handlebars unloaded. That's fine for most pushing. If Carrying is involved then food gets unloaded into the backpack using the drybags. For mega-schwacks the seapost gets dropped and the seat bag comes off.
What else? Lumix LX3 camera in a mini shoulder strap drybag case. Bear spray on pack strap bungee. Cookset was 4 oz of 99% alchool and a Ti pot. The alcohol used as fire starter and aquaseal repair prep. With the dry weather we cooked exclusively on fires had a minimum of 2 a day with abundant hot meals. If it had been raining lots, then fire starting would have been more interesting and I would have eaten more cheese and cookie dough for breakfast.
All this stuff has been learned through trial and error. After this trip the only change I'd make would have been bringing the dark lenses not yellow for my sunglasses and maybe a visor. That's it.
all my secrets. go nuts.
Tuesday, July 05, 2011
Mike's Video
Don't even think of watching this without pressing the full screen button!
Bikerafting Alaska's Lost Coast: Yakutat to Glacier Bay. from lacemine29 on Vimeo.
Friday, July 01, 2011
Yakutat to Gustavus Coast Trip part 1
11 days in the wilderness.. how do you sum it up and put it into words? I always have a problem with it and every effort falls short. This will be no exception since my brain is mush and has been in a stream of conscious mode since I've been back.
We had nothing short of a fantastic trip. The weather cooperated, the route was excellent with good riding and a host of challenges, our group was solid and could crack dirty jokes 27 hrs a day. But leaving it at that would not make for much of a story. Details! photos! right?! ok fine. twist my arm.
I've been thinking about this and the best way I can describe how this trip came about is "Circular Inspiration". Roman did bad ass trips in the 90's that blew the doors off the notion of wilderness mountain biking as we know it. Following in the footsteps, Dylan and I were amped on the concept and started packrafting with our bikes a few years ago. Eventually We spent 19 days riding, pushing and paddling our Pugsleys on the northern section of the Lost Coast from Yakutat to Cordova, a route brought to light by Erin and Hig who walked it. At some point a now older and wiser Roman saw the new bikes and the potential... bought one this spring and proposed doing the Southern part - Yakutat south. um yes, Game on! Friends from Colorado, Steve Fassbinder and Mike Curiak, both well versed in the world beyond 2.25" joined in. It was quite the crew, well rounded (literally for some) and experienced.
Expedition Coastal fat tire biking is a unique animal. It's gear intensive with Bikes and packrafts, yet simple and primal. When things click it makes for a very efficient method of travel without the mundane of simply walking. Yet there's more too it than that. You'll have try it for your self, but for me it has something to do with real adventure riding. The giddy feeling of riding where nobody has biked (or even thought of it!) in a remote environment with the self reliance and determination that comes with it. There I tried.
(The photos in this post are a mix of mine and some of DOom's)
Off to Yakutat, landing there and prepping our bikes brought on total deja-vu of 3 years earlier. Same bikes, same flight, same bacon cheeseburger from the lodge.
Heading out to the beach:
We had the perfect night, a low tide that made for a fat tire playground. Gigapixels were burned finally on the beach.
Roman with fatties..
a funny thing happens when everyone is spinning nearly the same gear combo...
We enjoyed near perfect beach for the first 2 days. Crossed Situk Lagoon, The Dangerous River and finally the Alsek as we worked our way closer to the Fairweather range.
We spent the whole trip traversing below all these peaks.
Immense mountains smack in front of us, crashing surf off to the right. Is this really happening or am I dreaming? if so don't pinch me..
At the end of the third day we hit Boulders. Boulders on the beach mean big glaciers are close by. Following bear trails we went up into the woods and schwacked to the lagoon formed by the Grand Plateau Glacier. (note clawage)
We reached the lagoon as the evening's chill was upon us, combined with icebergs and glacier melt made for a brisk paddle in search of a camp spot.
We found one, a tiny stretch of beach between the alders and rocks.
Tall tales by the campfire accompanied sporadic glacier calving off in the distance and we hoped that the lake level would not rise from the mini tsunamis and swamp our camp.
Putting in the next day, everyone giddy for good reason!
Our exit from the lake was a bit of a crap shoot. Our maps (last updated decades ago) showed a braided stream leaving on the far end of the lake. Our plan was to follow that back down to the beach. We did, but the stream was not really there anymore. The landscape had changed dramatically and we climbed up away from the lake in full on schwackfest swamp mode.
We found the stream, but it was just slime covered boulders, balls deep at times.
Off the stream and into the quality. Mike gets acquainted with Devils Club and all that summer Alaska trip have to offer.
A few hours later we broke out onto the coast. The massive boulders were gone and we were greeted to smooth and ridable beach. This would be the theme for days to come. Bash and bushwack in the morning, cruise in the evening.
Cape Fairweather - Subdivision sized boulders loomed ahead. I figured a solid 4 hrs to get around it all. It took us about 6 or so reminiscent of the Sitaki Bluffs along the Malispina Glacier. It was here that Roman educated us on the aptly suitable verb "Stumblefucking" nothing describes it better. Roman obviously derived the term from decades of perfecting the art. You bash along with your bike in mind numbing tedium. Thought process slows, as does time. Your body tires from the minute yet strenuous movements needed to carry, push and bash though the cobbles and boulders. The only thought that need to be held on to is that yes, the bike will be useful again at some point so keep bashing, you're having fun you idoit.
Bear trails, not the best maintained in these parts. good times!
they grow em big out here.
As evening progressed we left the boulders behind and were quickly greeted to the goods. re-pack, pedals on. I was in no hurry this night however. After a solid day of stumblefucking the big trees, big beach and big ocean brought a sense of calm. an erie calm in a way, something that made me think that this moment right here and then, is what I came for.
We had nothing short of a fantastic trip. The weather cooperated, the route was excellent with good riding and a host of challenges, our group was solid and could crack dirty jokes 27 hrs a day. But leaving it at that would not make for much of a story. Details! photos! right?! ok fine. twist my arm.
I've been thinking about this and the best way I can describe how this trip came about is "Circular Inspiration". Roman did bad ass trips in the 90's that blew the doors off the notion of wilderness mountain biking as we know it. Following in the footsteps, Dylan and I were amped on the concept and started packrafting with our bikes a few years ago. Eventually We spent 19 days riding, pushing and paddling our Pugsleys on the northern section of the Lost Coast from Yakutat to Cordova, a route brought to light by Erin and Hig who walked it. At some point a now older and wiser Roman saw the new bikes and the potential... bought one this spring and proposed doing the Southern part - Yakutat south. um yes, Game on! Friends from Colorado, Steve Fassbinder and Mike Curiak, both well versed in the world beyond 2.25" joined in. It was quite the crew, well rounded (literally for some) and experienced.
Expedition Coastal fat tire biking is a unique animal. It's gear intensive with Bikes and packrafts, yet simple and primal. When things click it makes for a very efficient method of travel without the mundane of simply walking. Yet there's more too it than that. You'll have try it for your self, but for me it has something to do with real adventure riding. The giddy feeling of riding where nobody has biked (or even thought of it!) in a remote environment with the self reliance and determination that comes with it. There I tried.
(The photos in this post are a mix of mine and some of DOom's)
Off to Yakutat, landing there and prepping our bikes brought on total deja-vu of 3 years earlier. Same bikes, same flight, same bacon cheeseburger from the lodge.
Heading out to the beach:
We had the perfect night, a low tide that made for a fat tire playground. Gigapixels were burned finally on the beach.
Roman with fatties..
a funny thing happens when everyone is spinning nearly the same gear combo...
We enjoyed near perfect beach for the first 2 days. Crossed Situk Lagoon, The Dangerous River and finally the Alsek as we worked our way closer to the Fairweather range.
We spent the whole trip traversing below all these peaks.
Immense mountains smack in front of us, crashing surf off to the right. Is this really happening or am I dreaming? if so don't pinch me..
At the end of the third day we hit Boulders. Boulders on the beach mean big glaciers are close by. Following bear trails we went up into the woods and schwacked to the lagoon formed by the Grand Plateau Glacier. (note clawage)
We reached the lagoon as the evening's chill was upon us, combined with icebergs and glacier melt made for a brisk paddle in search of a camp spot.
We found one, a tiny stretch of beach between the alders and rocks.
Tall tales by the campfire accompanied sporadic glacier calving off in the distance and we hoped that the lake level would not rise from the mini tsunamis and swamp our camp.
Putting in the next day, everyone giddy for good reason!
Our exit from the lake was a bit of a crap shoot. Our maps (last updated decades ago) showed a braided stream leaving on the far end of the lake. Our plan was to follow that back down to the beach. We did, but the stream was not really there anymore. The landscape had changed dramatically and we climbed up away from the lake in full on schwackfest swamp mode.
We found the stream, but it was just slime covered boulders, balls deep at times.
Off the stream and into the quality. Mike gets acquainted with Devils Club and all that summer Alaska trip have to offer.
A few hours later we broke out onto the coast. The massive boulders were gone and we were greeted to smooth and ridable beach. This would be the theme for days to come. Bash and bushwack in the morning, cruise in the evening.
Cape Fairweather - Subdivision sized boulders loomed ahead. I figured a solid 4 hrs to get around it all. It took us about 6 or so reminiscent of the Sitaki Bluffs along the Malispina Glacier. It was here that Roman educated us on the aptly suitable verb "Stumblefucking" nothing describes it better. Roman obviously derived the term from decades of perfecting the art. You bash along with your bike in mind numbing tedium. Thought process slows, as does time. Your body tires from the minute yet strenuous movements needed to carry, push and bash though the cobbles and boulders. The only thought that need to be held on to is that yes, the bike will be useful again at some point so keep bashing, you're having fun you idoit.
Bear trails, not the best maintained in these parts. good times!
they grow em big out here.
As evening progressed we left the boulders behind and were quickly greeted to the goods. re-pack, pedals on. I was in no hurry this night however. After a solid day of stumblefucking the big trees, big beach and big ocean brought a sense of calm. an erie calm in a way, something that made me think that this moment right here and then, is what I came for.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)




























































