Steady progress

I received a couple calls from Beat on Saturday afternoon as I was pedaling a borrowed fat bike along the buffed snow singletrack in the hills outside Whitehorse. In the first, his voice sounded so distraught that my knee-jerk reaction was to start panicking, convinced he was hurt. "I'm so sorry," he said in a single slurred word. "I lost my camera. It fell out of my pocket. I went back a mile to look for it but I can't go back any more. It's gone. All of the pictures I wanted to show you. I'm so sorry."

I had to pause for a second just to realize that this emergency simply was just a lost camera. I can understand, however. When I'm out for a long time alone, and my body and mind are incredibly tired, I also experienced these exaggerated emotions. I compare it to reverting to a childlike state, where small setbacks feel like the end of the world until I allow my mind to process them rationally. Similarly, good feelings become euphoria and exhilaration. Beat sounded truly distraught over the loss of his camera, and I admit I felt like a parent trying to soothe a child as I responded, "It's okay. It doesn't matter. There are still several racers behind you. I'm sure someone will find it."

An hour later, I received another call: "I have my camera!" he exclaimed with the kind of exhilaration I'd expect when an exhausted mind experiences triumph. "Some snowmobilers found it and gave it back to me."

After that, there were no calls for many hours even though he said he'd call when he arrived at the Bear Creek cabin, where he planned to spend the night. Even though I don't necessarily expect calls, especially when he arrives at a stopping point because he's so busy attending to his own needs, I couldn't help but worry some. Weather reports for Nikolai predicted temperatures down to 30 below zero overnight, which can easily drop to 40 below in low-lying areas. I knew he was simply resting, but it's still almost unavoidable. I feel anxiety.

Beat called again as he was leaving the Bear Creek cabin just after 1 a.m. Sunday. The temperature was 25 below zero with a light wind out of the east. He was still feeling tired after "a full night's rest" but felt he had slept enough and wanted to start into Nikolai, which is about thirty miles northwest of the cabin. There's little between the two besides open swamps and scraggly stands of human-sized spruce trees. The mountains of the Alaska Range still loom on the horizon, and McGrath feels too far away to comprehend. It's a difficult section of trail and I felt apprehensive about him taking it on in the deep cold of the morning, but I know he has few choices now but to keep trudging away at this until he gets it done. It's an inspiring thing he's doing, but it's still hard for me to hear his voice so tired and distraught, even if it is over a lost camera.

Meanwhile, right now (Sunday morning) I am getting ready to leave for an overnight bike tour on the Dawson Overland Trail. I probably will not be able to post any more blog updates until Monday afternoon, although I might be able to squeeze something in on my Facebook page, depending on cell reception. I expect he'll finish sometime late Monday night.

Meanwhile, I'm having way to much guilty fun in Whitehorse:

Riding miles of buffed snow singletrack.

Laughing with my friends (not at, with.)

Checking out the more quirky features of life in the Canadian North. Is this not the coolest lawn ornament you've ever seen?

Thanks for all of the support. I admit I'll be glad when this race is all over. 

Beat heads into the Burn

After twelve hours of driving across 700 miles of scenic nothingness, we settled in to a barrage of homemade pizza and frenetic conversation with friends. Just before midnight we heard a rumor about Northern Lights, so we loaded up again and headed into the hills above Whitehorse. We danced and struck silly poses beneath shimmering waves of light. Since the colorful flares spread out from a point far beyond the sky, I knew there was a chance Beat could see the same show I was seeing. I found comfort in that realization, even though we're now separated by hundreds of empty miles and the greater divide between my comfortable fun and Beat's difficult journey.

Beat called from Rohn at 6:30 p.m. Friday. He made great time on the trek over the Alaska Range on Rainy Pass, crossing 45 miles of steep climbs and the dramatic Dalzell Gorge in fourteen hours. This same section of trail took me 27 hours to traverse in 2008. The current race leader, Geoff, took twelve. Geoff was the first to leave Rohn, about two hours before lead bikers Pete and Phil. Beat took a nap and was the ninth competitor to leave remote checkpoint, about twelve hours after Geoff. He said the trip down from the pass was unbelievably gorgeous and the weather improved. Since the sky had cleared, he was hoping for a glimpse of the aurora as he hiked into vast expanse of the Farewell Burn.

The latest update came Saturday morning at 7:30. Beat bivied overnight near Egypt Mountain as temperatures plummeted and the wind increased. Cold feet woke him up several times and he estimated it was about 20 below, but he was able to catch some needed sleep. He sounded upbeat in the morning, and said his feet were fine after he warmed them up again. His plan for Saturday was to continue through the remnant foothills of the Alaska Range, into the Burn, and stop for the night at the Bear Creek cabin, which is about 30 miles away from the village of Nikolai, 300 miles into the course. He said it was still cold but the wind had calmed. There have been reports of deep snow drifts on the trail ahead, so progress may be more difficult for him on this section than it was over the mountains.

I'm hoping to hear from Beat tonight from a warmer, comfier spot. He's healthy and moving well, now nearly six days into this journey.

Taking this show on the road

I am falling victim to waiting syndrome. I'm not really doing the work I hoped to do. I toss and turn enough at night that I'm not really resting and recovering from the Susitna 100. That race already seems like it was a year ago, and I forget that my legs are still a little tired and that the bottoms of my feet are still tingling and sore. But this morning I wasn't as productive as I'd hoped to be with an article I started, and I was become tired of refreshing the ITI Web site repeatedly when I already knew the latest information about Beat's whereabouts. The weather was poor and I didn't feel like driving, so I decided, "I'll go blitz Lazy this afternoon."

The Lazy Mountain route is typical of the Chugach Range in that it starts at somewhere near sea level and ascends to 3,720 feet in less than two and a half miles. I imagine it's pleasantly steep in the summer, but in the winter, touring skiers and hikers pack the route into an icy slide with a deceptive skiff of powder. I wore crampons for maximum traction and my plan was to hike it as hard as I could. I endured 2,000 feet of calf-searing, lung-pounding, sweat-drenched marching before I broke near treeline. The temperature was about 16 degrees with a stiff wind, light snow was falling, and I debated heading back down. But after my red-line blitz, I didn't feel like immediately launching into the steep downhill, where I had no choice but to dig in and brake hard with each step or risk riding the ice slide all the way down the mountain (I believe this would be a lot less fun than it sounds.) I always appreciate my time in the mountains, so I piled on all of my dry clothing over my soaked base layer and abandoned the blitz for a pleasant stroll. (You know, among the zero-degree windchill and stinging snow.)

I was glad I climbed to the top, but downhill in the crampons was indeed hard work. I actually had to remove most of my layers again even before I reached the wind protection of the birch forest. I was cooked at the bottom, in good way — a kind of peaceful tired washed over me, and I felt satisfied in a way I haven't since the Susitna 100. I drove to Vagabond Blues for warm-up soup and tea, and received another call from Beat. He sounded so much more energized than his previous calls, and told me he had reached Puntilla Lake — four hours earlier than I had expected. He had an enjoyable hike through the foothills of the Alaska Range with Dave and Andrea. The trail was getting better, he was feeling better, and planned to continue toward Rainy Pass with Anne around midnight.

The fact he's decided to take on the pass is a decisive action. It means he's fully committed to the finish, barring an unworkable injury or bad weather. This was great news — the best of the journey so far. I feel like this means I shouldn't wait around and worry any longer. Beat is going to do his thing and cover his miles, and I'll hear from him when he feels like calling. Sitting around hitting refresh on a computer screen won't do either of us any good.

I've decided to head out to Whitehorse this weekend to join an overnight snowbike trip with friends. I'd been on the fence about going, but the schedule will put me back in Southcentral Alaska before Beat's likely to finish the race. And I do believe, now, that he'll probably finish. If not, there's going to be a delay in our reconnection, but I think he'll understand. I did tell him about this trip before the race started. It's going to be so full of awesome that I'll probably completely forget about the refresh button. It does mean my own Web updates will be more delayed, but I will continue to post about Beat's progress.

Meanwhile, current standing are posted here: http://nellahcir.com/iti/standings