14 hours, 20 below.

The Iditabike (Iditarod Trail Invitational race/ ITI)  is a 1,000 mile race from Anchorage to Nome, akin to the would famous Iditarod dog-sled race.  The ITI also has a "short course" 350 mile route from Anchorage to McGrath.  This is an awe-inspiring endeavor to undertake.

A few weeks back, I got a call late in the day Friday to tag along on an ITI training ride, so I raced home to frantically throw together my winter camping gear that had been packed away since last year.
I was excited to spend the night riding with some of these racers and hear about their past experiences on the Iditarod Trail, and see if I could keep up...

   

My impulsivity got the better of me and I made a game of packing as much gear as possible onto my bike; resulting in a rig weighing somewhere north of 65 pounds (because that's where my scale stops).  But I had an avalanche shovel, two sleeping pads, french press, hatchet, coconut water, spare batteries, extra headlamp, change of clothes, and flask of booze so I was well prepared for any apocalyptic eventuality.

The ride commenced in just after 10:00 PM out my back door onto the Chester Creek trail to rendezvous with the group.  We warmed up around town, following several of Anchorage's urban trails, then worked our way up into Chugach State Park and of the front range.  My riding companions were all on 27 pound Linsky welded titanium Fatbacks with minimalist gear, so I felt a little over prepared for the evening, and was cursing the weight of my hatchet and shovel during the extended climbs out of the Anchorage bowl.  

The lack of recent snowfall and sub-zero temps had left the trail conditions packed, frozen, and fast.  A surface well suited for their Fatbacks with the standard issue fast rolling Surly Larry Tires.  My Surly Moonlander  on the other hand, equipped with the fattest, knobbiest, tires available, had me spinning hard just to keep pace as the others coasted effortlessly through any section of trail with a moderate decline.  I won the prize for most calories burned.

There is something about biking in -20 degree weather that seems to suck the energy right out of you, so we paused frequently to adjust layers, snack, hydrate, and check one-another's faces for frostbite.  

Somewhere around 4:00 AM, we bed down just off the path to take an early morning nap; and after a bite of chocolate and a shot of syrupy vodka to take the edge off the caffeine infuse energy gels, my bivy never felt so inviting.

Emerging from our frozen cocoons a few hours later, we were greeted by first light, warm coffee, and a promise of a fast icy technical single-track decent back to town.  

Home by noon. Dehydrated, exhausted, frosty, happy, and thankful for a wild Friday night.

Covered about 50 miles with a taste of what the race pace for an ITI would be like.

Definitely not going to sign up this year.

 

Urban Assault

A common phrase exchanged when discussing the subjective merits of living in Anchorage is: "The best thing about Anchorage is it's only 20 minutes from Alaska."  

Oftentimes the contrast that the urban sprawl offers to the unforgiving wilds of the Alaskan landscape creates a feeling of separateness from the "real Alaska" that can potentially lull Anchorageites in to a false sense of security in exploring the terrain in and around the city limits.

With minimal snowfall through the end of November, I had been eyeing a winter biking route lying in the borderlands of our fare city.  An established route in the summer months, the Powerline Pass to Indian  trail is a popular day trip in the Chugach State Park and affords some gravity fueled rewards descending to Indian, with an elevation change of roughly 3500 feett beginning and ending at sea level (when starting from the urban bowl). The thin snowpack of the early winter made this an ideal route for the unique attributes of a fatbike.

Leading up to the weekend planned for the ride, I opted out of the trip due to other commitments.  Also,  a storm system had brought two feet of fresh snow along with high winds on a base of 2 weeks worth of hoar frost. (Read: highly unstable and dangerous!)

Although I wondered if my riding buddies had similar misgivings about the route, I assumed they wouldn't attempt such a trip due to the high degree of avalanche danger, or perhaps would have checked snow conditions via the Friend's of the Chugach

I was wrong, and despite the sketchy conditions they took to the mountains, attempting an up-and-over of Powerline to Indian.

The picture below shows the accent up to Powerline approaching an open couloir on the aptly named Avalanche Peak in the Chugach front range.    Two minutes after this photo was snapped a point release sent a slow rolling powder slide further compromising the route ahead.  The intrepid and ill-informed cyclists pushed onward into the sketchy snow-pack, and amazingly didn't trigger a second slide.   Thankfully the all day trek brought them safely to Indian, and prompted afterthoughts of "maybe next time we should have shovels or beacons...?"

They were truly lucky to not have been injured or killed. I relay this story here in hopes that people will educate and equip themselves appropriately.  This is increasingly important with the advent of fatbikes bringing a new group of outdoor enthusiasts to the mountains; encourage your winter biking peers to get basic a snow-safety  education before venturing out of city limits.