PreRace
-Training
The training was interesting; there were 2 parts: 1) the class part where Shelly and a few of the more experienced athletes, and medical team shared their expertise with the group, and 2) the second part where we were able to walk out about an hour and practice setting up our stove, sleeping system, and start a fire. Was a lot of fun but the fire starters I had sucked. They are supposed to help make starting a fire easier but mine seemed to be designed to keep the fire going. Despite that hurdle, I was the first to get my sleeping system and Stove up and running. Made a cup of coffee and enjoyed the cool night. While it was ‘cool’ by San Diego terms, for a Yukon winter it was unseasonably warm... which would cause problems for athletes later on.
-Yukon Quest
The Dog Race was well attended, I think this and the Iditarod are the biggest dog races in the world. Iditarod is bigger and more commercial, but the Yukon Quest is supposed to be tougher. It was interesting watching 7 people trying to hold the dogs back at the start line. The dogs were leaping in line, their little booties tied to their feet. Later, I kept seeing the booties on the trail as I went on my race. I thought about trying to save one, but decided it wasn’t worth stopping to grab a bootie as once I start moving I hate to stop.
Hour 0-24
The race starts @ 10:30 AM at the same spot the where the Yukon Quest embarks from, and follows the same trail. The day is overcast and it feels like we’re getting a late start even though the sun has only been up for an hour, and will set in only 6 hours, at @ 4:30 PM. The starting point for the race is approximately a mile or so away from our lodging so I drag my sled downstairs and walk through town. Here in Whitehorse, even if you look like you’re going to cross the street people stop for you. As I approached the starting point I started to walk out behind an approaching car to cross the street, but the minute I twitched like I was about to cross, the car slammed on its breaks and waited for me… kind of embarrassing, but I get the feeling this is a common occurrence and drivers are accustomed to people walking out in front of them here.
We gathered for a group photo and then I returned to my sled. My plan was to start about halfway back, toward the back of the group. I had 8 days to finish and didn’t want to bother anyone who might be following me. From what I’ve seen and read, there typically isn’t a lot of room to pass, and having racers right behind me might force me to exceed my ideal pace.
As the race starts, people begin jockeying for position, so I felt comfortable with where I was. Unfortunately, as soon as we exit the chute we all start sinking in the snow. With the unseasonably warm weather, (around 0 F), the snow was very fluffy, and even snowmobiles and dog teams traveling on the route the day before didn’t pack it down. This made for slow going. I would sink to my knees, even up to my hips in some places, and the sled sank too. About 10 miles in, I realized I had to do something, and I tried snowshoes. I was hesitant to use them for very long because I was concerned about the potential impact on my shins. Often when people aren’t accustomed to walking in snowshoes, they can experience pain in their shins, or problems with keeping their feet warm. I decided it was worth the risk, because if I didn’t do something I would expend all my energy wading through the waist-high snow As it turns out... snowshoes are the shit!...The sled was still sinking, but at I was able to make better time walking on the snow instead of through it. I used them for another 5 or so miles before we turned onto the next river and I didn’t need them any longer. We followed this river all the way to the checkpoint. The checkpoint was off the river up a steep hill... It’s amazing the energy you can get when you know there is warm food on the other side.
First Night
After getting some warm food and hot water, I walked/slid down the hill back to the river and continued my journey. The first night was mostly overcast, and I was getting tired from battling the soft snow. I was pretty happy to turn off the river and go onto land. The trees alongside the route formed a tunnel, and there were some small hills. The scenery provided a welcome distraction from focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. For a while I was behind a lady from Switzerland named Marie-Louise. She pulled over for tea, but I kept going. Around 1am I decided to try to lie down and get some rest. I stomped down the snow as much as possible and attempted to crawl into my sleeping bag/bivy. This was the first time I used a bivy, and I found out how much wiggling is involved to do the simplest things such as take off my coat etc.. Also I got a chance to figure out how to remove my shoes while being outside the bivy without getting snow into the sleeping bag, or against my skin while sitting in it... I’m sure it was hilarious and I wish I had video of me snaking around, dancing, avoiding snow while pulling off my frozen shoes. It was too cold for batteries, and I had trouble sleeping so after laying down for 3 and half hours, I had gotten roughly 45min of sleep, and at 6 AM with several more hours of darkness before sunrise, I decided to press on.
Hour 24-48
The one question going through my mind for the next few hours is “where the heck is the check point?” According to the rough estimate, it should only be 33 miles, but it turns out to be much further. If you figure on averaging 2-3 miles an hour, 33 miles can seem pretty far. The small rolling hills from last night turn into much bigger hills, it’s still overcast and I’m out of food and water... but I’m sure the checkpoint can’t be much further... sure of it..
Another 2 hours go by, and at this point I’m fairly miserable, hungry and thirsty and there is no damn checkpoint in sight, but plenty of hills to drag my heavy ass sled up... it’s still overcast and everything is white and bleak... With no idea how much farther I have to go; I pull over to cook food and boil water.
As I’m sitting there making coffee, an athlete comes by who has done this before and kindly informs me that the checkpoint is another 10k... so I think ok, 6 more miles... realizing that’s about 2-2.5 hours I am glad I made the decision to stop After eating and drinking the sun comes out, my spirits are lifted, and it immediately becomes a wonderful day... so I learn an important lesson:
Food+Water = Sunshine;
By now, I’m damn near singing to the bluebirds (if there were any dumb enough to be out in the cold) and happy that the world exists. When I get to Dog Grave Lake, I get to enjoy some warm soup, and the people are amazing, (thank you for all you do volunteers) and I have an opportunity to learn a bit more about the area from a local. But eventually, I have to get up and start moving again...
It’s a much clearer night tonight, the stars are out and it’s beautiful, if not chillier. So I get a mantra in my head: ”Just move don’t think”... not terribly original, but it does get me moving faster, so I do that for a few hours.. I t’s around 9pm and I think perhaps I’ll be able to sleep better than the night before, but being my lazy ass I decide not to stomp the snow down, so I wiggle dance my shoes off and climb into my bivy. What I learn here is that if you don’t stomp the snow down, your shoulders/head will do it for you. Unevenly. So I end up laying on what is essentially an incline. I try for an hour, but sleep eludes me again, so screw it... I get up and start moving... About that time Marie-Louise comes by again. I’m glad for the company, so we decide to walk the rest of the night together.
It was a beautiful night; it looked like someone had a handful of liquid stars and smeared them all across the sky. As it got later, (maybe around 1am, though my memory is a bit fuzzy), the aurora borealis started. At first it looked like someone folded the sky in folds of green cloth, but sometimes it looked like someone smeared green paint across the sky... Ever since I was a kid I wanted to see the northern lights and here I was enjoying them...
The 2 days of sleep deprivation were beginning to take a toll, so I started seeing a lot of other things too... homeless people, unicorns... but they cleverly disguised themselves as trees as I got close... Was probably smart of us to walk together as Marie-Louise was getting some pretty good hallucinations herself, and kindly asked me to be careful of the old woman when I walked beside her for a while. As it got closer to dawn/hour 40ish I got to experience Nap walking... it wasn’t sleep and it wasn’t walking but there was movement and there was rest and it counts damn it.
We decide, before we are too far gone, to heat up some water and food. So we whip out our stoves and heat some up... the focus on movement and actions wakes me up for a time... it’s amazing how just focusing on a simple task can awaken your mind for a short time. Have to remember that when I get tired in the future and bring some kind of simple puzzle to keep alert.
At one point during night, my companion’s water thermos outside froze. We were using it for water, since mine had turned into ice weights, so I took off my outer glove and opened it using only my inner gloves. It worked, but I pay for this small victory later as frostnip settles into my fingers.
Arriving @ Braeburn was a bit like being dragged over tiny icicles. I knew I was close when I crossed a lake, but really it was another mile or 2 I wasn’t aware that is was that far, so I kept looking for it and not finding it... That’s the problem with asking people how far it is, sometimes they are off ☺
I arrive in Braeburn, exhausted, but determined not to miss out on the famous Braeburn burger and cinnamon roll. So I snagged a burger and a pop and enjoyed the warmth. I could only eat about half the plate sized burger. The volunteers helped me get to the bunkhouse where I slept... it was great to sleep in a bed and not have to wrestle in the snow with the bivy, but only 4 hours later I was awake again. My fingers hurt to touch and some of my toes aren’t doing so well, but whatever, I feel great! I woke up on my own with no alarm.
After a cup of coffee I head off, looking like a cowboy who spent too much time on his horse, (lots of chafing) but still in good spirits. I put warmers in my hands mitts to warm up my hands, tie my poles to the sled, and start walking. Several hours later as I’m enjoying the night, I realize that I feel the heat of my warmers on my hand but not in my fingertips... my fingertips have gone numb. I try a few things to keep them moving but can’t get the feeling back, (even pain would have been nice). About this time a snowmobile comes by and checks on me. I tell him what’s going on and he helps me get on the snowmobile and I take off for a nice ride back to Braeburn. I’m slightly disappointed because I know I can’t go on, but at the same time I had an adventure of my life. So when I get back to Braeburn, I grab a cinnamon bun (even bigger than the burger) and head back to Whitehorse on the van, somehow losing my headlamp, small gloves, hat and race number in the process. Of all the things I lost the only thing I’m upset about is my race number.
Lessons learned:
1) You slowly break down over the race. There is no forgiveness - one mistake and it’s difficult if not impossible to recover. I was doing well about maintaining my extremities, but a lack of sleep caused me to make a mistake that cost me the race.
2) Next time, I plan on going up to the race a week ahead of time (if not 2) where I can work all day remotely and go out and practice at night. There were lots of minor things that would have added up to a better race... i.e. practice sleeping in deep snow, small bungee attachments to all zippers... Will try to hang out with some other athletes and learn from them. This time I mostly acted on my own and didn’t try to partner with anyone
