The Good Fight

Adam Bartlett took this picture during the Iditarod Trail Invitational. He posted it on the Alaska MTB forum. Check it out. He took some amazing pictures during his six days in the Great Nothing.

So now the Iditarod dogsled race is on. Yesterday the rugged mushers and their puppy teams flew over the terrain I slogged through during the Susitna 100. Today the leaders crossed Rainy Pass, fast on their way to McGrath - and nipping at the heels of the last forlorn racers of the Invitational. The carnage of this year's human-powered Iditarod is almost complete, with the only a few racers fighting through the last 50-mile stretch (only one guy, so far, is going on to Nome.) Those who are still out there are pushing 10 days. Think, for a minute, what you did with the past 10 days. Went to a couple of movies? Put in 60 hours at the office? Shopped for bicycle parts? Even if you didn't do much, adding up 10 days of tasks seems like a lot, doesn't it? Now imagine that you spent those 10 days squinting into the endless white of the Alaska tundra, facing the brutal wind, blowing snow and a blazing sun without heat, or a frigid night without light. And all you're doing, day into endless night, is placing one foot in front of the other, again and again and again.

Adam wrote: "It was a whiteout at some points with cold like I have never felt before. Exposed skin felt like it was being touched by a flame. The foam liner on my goggles froze to my face and my face mask froze to my cheek, leaving some minor frostbite marks. It was a nasty dark pass crossing. There was no trail until noon (12 hours after I left) when the bison hunters passed me by Pass Creek. So I spent a good part of the night route finding. Despite all this, I had a good time on the pass."

I've never even met Adam, but damn. I have a new hero.

Cliches

Date: March 5
Mileage: 27.1
March mileage: 55.8
Temperature upon departure: 29
Listened to: "The Kids Aren't All Right" ~ The Offspring

Well, I finally broke down and bought an iPod. It's actually out of character for me to purchase a shiny, trendy little gadget (I may be the only person who grew up in the 90s and drives a car with a tape deck.) But I think it was the Susitna race that finally convinced me it wouldn't be a bad idea to own a decent MP3 player. Normally, I prefer to ride free, without the noisebox crowding out all the ambient sounds. But with Breakup approaching (that's these Alaska types term for Spring), I realized that I may soon want to start packing on road mileage. And since I live at the very southern end of a peninsula, there's pretty much only one direction I can go for any distance. I realized that the Sterling Highway northbound may start to get very boring if I don't blast a little Yellowcard now and again.

There was nothing really notable about today's ride, except for being outsmarted by a dog. I often ride out to Ohlson Mountain, which is 13.5 miles from my house. There's a mean dog at mile 13 that chases me every time, up a hill, and nips at my ankles as I try to outrun him. I always end up weaving and spinning out on the ice, nearly losing control until I can finally crest the hill and fly the last half mile to the end of the road. Then I have to turn back and face him again. Today, as always, he chased me on the incoming stretch. His teeth got so close to my leg that I was certain I was going to lose a chunk of my calf, so I kicked out and he backed off. As soon as I hit the turnaround, I pulled my waterbottle out of my coat and popped the top off, then began pedaling hard back up the hill. I was filled with road rage and I wanted to face that dog head on. The thought of soaking that snarly little snout with every precious ounce of water I had made me positively gleeful. Within another minute I was back in his territory, viciously clutching my weapon and scanning the road when I locked eyes with the brute. He was just sitting on top of a snow bank, panting, like the harmless mutt he pretends to be. And he just watched me go by - just sat there, having no idea how close he came to a rude awakening. Or ... did he?

Today was also different in that I sat through most of the How-Great-Are-We Awards for the first time in, well, ever. I love movies, but I've never cared enough about the Academy Awards to bother watching them (after all, that's what newspapers are for). Still, there's something about a big windy blizzard outside, homemade pizza, and John Stewart on the only station that comes in semi-clear that can really make sitting though all the self congratulations worth it. Go George Clooney!

Backyard backcountry

Geoff's on a big skiing kick right now. Geoff, new hobby and eBay can be a daunting combination. The last time he did this (with bikes), he ended up with a Trek 5200, a Trek Fuel 100, and a lot of miles I couldn't keep up with - even when we went riding together. But at least cycling was something I could do.

After he spent the morning surfing the Web for info on pricey ski equipment and reading about "Cross-Country Skiing 101" from some library book, we went out for a backyard expedition. He went on his backcountry skis. I snowshoed. I gave myself blisters trying to keep up, but the rest of my bruise-free limbs let out a collective sigh of relief. We went out for a long trek, following Bridge Creek downcanyon over an impressive network of trails broken by other skiers. Everywhere we traveled, all I could think was, "Man, a little colder weather would turn this into some great single track." Or, "I bet with low tire pressure I could ride these snowmobile tracks right now." It was like scouting, not hiking. And I was discovering a whole new backyard playground I never knew about.

Maybe I'll go out tomorrow. But the truth is, trail conditions are still all too perfect for skiing. Which means soft snow, deep drifts and painful glares from the Sunday skiers. I could fight the mid-30s thaw in town. Or ... I could go skiing.