Soggy Bottom 100 2017 Edition

Highlights:

• Meredith beats three other ladies to win the solo women’s race in 11:10:41, completing her longest and hardest ride to-date.
• Adam sets a new course record by 3 minutes, taking the win in 8:33:02
• Lee signs up day-off despite protestations “he did not train for this event” to take 7^th in 9:38. Told ya dude.
• Probably the nicest weather all summer, despite all the suffering it caused, it was hard not to appreciate how gorgeous it was.
• Oh ya, I had an OK day too I guess. I shaved 29 minutes off my previous PR from last year to take 5^th, hammering for seven of nine hour with Kevin to finish a mere 23 seconds behind Kevin in 9:23:57

Photo: M. Stewart

 

Briefly:

My fourth Soggy, I rode this one pretty much exactly to plan. Everything was about as dialed in as it can be for nearly 10 hours in the saddle. I rode to Cooper at a sustainable race-pace, driving a few key sections, but waited until I turned around for leg 2 Cooper-Devils to attack. I dropped my long-time closest “rival” Kevin, and clipped 4 more positions on the way to the Devils trail head, and then rode with what I had left to Hope. I botched a feed heading up Devils due to overheating, and that put a short-lived air gap in the fuel lines, slowing me down long enough that Kevin, who had since overtaken the other riders we’d been yo-yoing with all day, caught back up. He and I proceeded to hammer each other and the trail for the next 30 miles to the finish.

I was stacked with other riders almost all day, it felt more like a race than any other Soggy I’ve done. It was, in a word: incredible. Racing against Kevin is awesome, he’s the only other rider since Mike K left the state who I’d consider in my cohort, who just crushes me on descents and technical stretches of trail. We are both “hold-our-own” riders on climbs, not cardio rats by any stretch, so it feels like real, head-to-head mountain biking when it comes down to it.

 

The long:

The cruel fate of the race this year for many was the heat. The irony of this was certainly not lost on me. Where the summer of 2016 was hot and dry, only to have race day arrive cool and wet, this summer it’s been pretty average for AK: cool and damp. The rains missed the Kenai in the week or so leading up to the race though, and temps rose into the mid 70s (the ambient on the baked climbs in the very tall vegetation easily climbed into the 80s). Some people refered to the race this year as the “Scorched Bottom.”

Turnout for the front end of the race was a little soft. Adam, Chuck, and Brian rode in a class of their own, though toward the end of the race I held a little hope that Kevin and I might reel Brian in. It was not to be though.

The second grupetto as it was, proved to be more evenly matched throughout much of the race, and was fairly consolidated.

We all took off at 9:10, and the pace line to the trailhead went pretty hard. We were up the road and on trail in 15 minutes! For some reason, Chuck, Adam, and I did the bulk of the pulling. I didn’t feel too bad riding on the front, it helped open up my legs, and once we hit the trail, I slid into the back and geared it down.

Chuck said the lead group rode together to the East Creek climb, before Adam attacked and blew up the group. Adam and Chuck separated, riding together to Cooper. Chuck said he thought the group was largely at their limit before the attack, no one could talk.

A few miles from the trail head, James H passed me. Shortly after, Lee caught up. Lee and I caught James a few minutes later, and the three of us paced until Lee and I went around James on the last canyon climb before the Resurrection Creek trestle. 

Lee and I rode together up and over the pass. Though neither of us spoke, it was nice to have the company.

Lee did ask as we crested the pass how our pace was.

I felt like garbage, in a good way, but I knew we were right on pace, and feeling bad gave me the impression we were probably actually doing pretty good.

As we began to drop into the descent to Swan Lake, I started to pull away from Lee, and caught sight of Kevin for the first time of the day, less than 30 seconds down the trail. About halfway down the Swan Lake descent, I had closed the gap to Kevin to 5 seconds, when I burped my front tire.

I had visions of my race ending, and having to hike out. Panic began to build.

I rolled softly until I found a break in the thick wall of vegetation and jumped off. The bugs immediately began to swarm. If I had to change a tire, it was going to be miserable.

Lee came by before I had my pump out. The tire held air though, and I was back on the trail in less than 5 minutes. I added a bit more pressure despite drier and looser conditions that warranted softer PSI.

My gut was clenched as I bopped my way through the ruts and divets on the rest of the descent to Swan, but the tire seemed fine.

I caught sight of Kevin again on the shores of Juneau Lake. He had been overtaken by Lee. I donlt remember where I passed Kevin.

Juneau to Bean Creek Jct. was one of the zones I planned to drill. I don’t remember anything here. I know Kevin clipped on for a while, but I don’t know how long he stayed with me. I know I didn’t put a lot of space between us.

Descending to Coopers was pretty low stress. I had good sight lines on all the approaching riders, and other than Adam and Chuck, most the riders were still bunched up pretty close to the base of the climb, so my gap was fairly small.

Kevin caught back up to me right as we hit the dismount at the parking lot. Lee was just departing as I reached the timers. We high fived. I was stoked for Lee. He was crushing it.

Turnaround was super smooth. Carly’s support is so amazing. Little Gus helped steady my bike while I lubed the chain and checked my tire pressure – which I was glad to see, was unchanged. Whatever happened on the descent appeared to be a fluke.

I chugged most of a 16oz bottle of 50% dilute of Liquid I.V., swallowed a fruity Kind bar that was happily melted and gooey in the heat, and grabbed my alternate pack.

Back on the trail, Kevin followed me back into the woods, and we were back on the trail.

I had plans for Leg 2.

People hate this leg. I hate it too, but that makes it a good place to attack. With Kevin right behind me, we drilled the climb out of Cooper. I was surprised to see later, that even though we were able to chat a little as we climbed, I still set a PR on a segment of the climb. Descending riders were courteous and we didn’t have any issues.

I was stoked when I saw Meredith. I expected to see her much sooner than I did last year, and sure enough, she was already ahead of half the men’s field and on track to shave 18 minutes off her Hope-Cooper time from 2016!

Keeping to plan, I drilled it from the top of the Cooper climb to the base of the summer trail cut-off hike-a-bike.

All I remember is briefly passing David B, and separating from Kevin by a little bit around Juneau Lake.

On the way, I primed the fuel lines.

Off the bike and hiking around the first switchback of the cut-off, Kevin closed the small gap, and we found Owen, stopped, stretching his cramping legs.

The three of us finished up the hike.

I had my two biggest challengers from last year grouped up, right where I wanted them. Now I needed to get distance between us through the stony climb to Devils Junction.

After Owen’s explosive climb up Devils in the 3^rd leg last season, I knew he was a force to be reckoned with, and could contend for the rest of this climb; I knew I could distance Kevin up the climb, but he’d gain ground on the descent. If either of them got to the Devils trail head checkpoint with me, they would be a real threat for the finish.

Unfortunately for Owen, the leg cramps would get the better of him, and he would not contend on the climb, and would fade.

I dieseled my way through the rocky Swan grade, and as I got my first sight of the Devils Junction from afar, I caught a glimpse of a David F. I reeled him in just before the final pitch to the Junction, and came around. He said another rider was just in front of us. I suspected it was Lee.

David clipped on as we began the flowy cruise to Devils Pass proper, and I want to say about the time we rounded Devils Lake, I saw Lee’s red and white jersey up ahead.

We caught and overtook Lee not long after entering the Devils rocks.

I had a near-spectacular wreck crossing the Henry Brook twin fords. Wanting to get as a big a splash as possible, I railed the first of the two ice-cold streams at full speed. I’d never tried this, and I hydroplaned and nearly flipped over the bars down the downstream side! I have no idea how I managed to keep upright.

David and I built a 2 minute gap on Lee on the remainder of the Devils descent.

A couple moments of comic relief broke up the descent. One came when I nearly hit a small bird and yelled to David behind me if he’d seen it. He couldn’t hear what I said, and thought I said: “Make bird noises.” (I’m not sure how he arrived at this).

I was yelling constantly as I expected to see Adam, Chuck, Brian, and Greg. David proceeded to make cawing noises for the next few minutes in accompaniment to my hollering, until our pace finally mellowed out enough to clear the confusion. Keep in mind, I had no idea who this guy was, all I knew was that he lived in Spain, and was clipped on my wheel, cawing like a crow.

The next moment of comic relief came lower down thanks to my ancient camelback I re-enlisted for use on this leg.

Tearing through the winding trail and head-high veg near the base, the bite valve caught my leg or handle bar and popped off: water began to squirt everywhere from the out of control hose.

Trying to hang on with one hand, get the hose under control with the other, and spraying myself in the face, I expected to slam into poor Chuck at any second.

Fortunately, Chuck was still a little further down the trail, and I managed to close the valve.

What a junk show!

David and I powered up the climb to the trail head, but were finally able to chat a little bit.

We rolled in, I chugged another bottle of 50% dilute of Liquid I.V., lubed my chain, took my snack, and looked around.

Lee had rolled in while I transitioned. Neither he nor David was ready to roll.

I unclicked my suspension for the mini descent and dropped back in. Kevin rolled in just as I rolled out.

David caught me as we began the actual climb. I asked if he wanted to come around but he said he liked my pace.

It was too steep and too hot to talk. David hung on for about half the steeps, but somewhere before Delta Point, he fell off my wheel.

Climbing Devils was awful. The heat was unreal and I was overheating.

Descending riders were very courteous. Many of them were smiling, and offering words of encouragement. I was too deep in my suffering to even hear half of them. I hardly even recognized Meredith when she came by.

Most the riders were smiling, enjoying their hard-earned downhill. I wanted to yell at them: “It’s a death trap, stop smiling!”

Based on what I was going through, I knew a lot of people were going to get crushed.

Once the climb leveled out, I was still too hot to even think about taking a feed. Putting anything other than water into my stomach made me want to puke.

I figured if I could get through the next two miles of rolling trail, I’d cool off, and could possibly take a feed right before the rocks.

It was a small mistake, but it hurt me. I opened my pace up across the rolling middle section, but never took the feed before I got into the rocks like I should have.

I dieseled through the heinous rocks. I knew I had to be treading water, but the rocks are slow and plodding anyway, and I couldn’t really tell how much damage I was inflicting on myself.

As soon as I got out of the rocks couple miles later, I hit a nice smooth rolling climb to the high point.

I went to drill the climb.

There was nothing there.

Fuck.

Visions of another 30 miles of soft pedaling to Hope, getting passed by one rider after another, trying to latch on only to get dropped over and over again, played across a dark screen in my mind. My head felt like it weighed a million pounds and I struggled to hold it up.

Experience kicked in. I popped back half a pack of caffeinated shotbloks.

This is the hard part.

Fuel is on the way, but my body is screaming for more, though in reality, it can only process so much, and feeding the beast too much just makes a painful gut bomb.

Wait. Wait. Wait. Pedal on. There’s no gas. The trail goes by so slowly. All day I;ve been flying, now I’m just crawling.

Approaching the lake, my temperature is coming back down, and I can start to feel the fuel coming online.

Take another feed now!

The lines are re-primed.

Clickity-clickity-clickity. Kevin rolls up on my wheel.

I finish a waffle as he comes around and descends from the trail above Devils Lake, rolling along just in front of me.

It feels like 2014 all over again.

Not quite though.

I test the gas again.

It’s there!

A couple minutes later, I round the corner and head up the switchback above the Devils Junction. The last climb to the Res Pass is my salvation. The spectator crew shouts encouragement. I shout back: “I want three burgers!”

I’m back!

In 2014, Kevin disappeared over the horizon here.

Not this year.

I keep him in sight all the way through Res, closing the gap to within seconds before we finally tip over the edge.

I knew he’d put some time into me on the descent to East Creek, I limited damages to that point.

What I love about racing against Kevin, is that he’s one of the only racers I go up against in my cohort that kicks my ass on the descents. Neither he nor I are slouches on climbs, but we also aren’t pure lungs and legs either. I have to work to limit my losses on descents with him, and if I slack or get caught out on a climb, he’ll make me pay.

I was glad to see as I made it down to East Creek and began the short climb out, that Kevin was still in sight.

Trail knowledge kicked in. I knew I’d need another feed to get to the trestle, and the short grade out of East Creek is a nice and easy one. The ensuing straightaways between the creeks are fast and rooty. There’s a short climb out of “upper surprise creek” between East Creek and Fox Creek, but it’s steep and rocky, not a great spot to try and get a snack. I knew from here on out it was going to be all about drilling the long straight-aways and hitting the short climbs from the creeks hard.

I let Kevin slide away just a tad on East Creek, and then went back on the hunt.

I reeled him back in, along with the Beemuns relay team rider who had passed us earlier, right before Fox Creek.

The three of us grouped up and hammered together to about mile 4. Kevin had to jump off somewhere along the way for a second to pull a stick from his drive train, and I took one more feed just after crossing the Res Creek trestle, but otherwise we stayed together.

Kevin and I both knew we were deep in PR territory, and even though we were racing, we acknowledged that it was chasing each other that was pushing us and making this race so awesome.

It had felt like an incredible group ride nearly all day.

Finally, at the mile 2 SOB hill, Kevin got up the climb just a titch in front of me, and then bombed the descent putting a 20-30 second gap on me to the trailhead.

We worked hard down the road, neither of us relented, but I never could close the gap. Awesome. Just awesome!

 

Feeds/Water:

The biggest change up this year for me, was the use of an electrolyte mix. My bike can’t effectively carry a water bottle, and I’m not comfortable riding soley on a mix carried in my bladder. I used a 50% dilute of Liquid I.V. in a 16oz bottle at each checkpoint.

Duh moment here: it really helped. My water retention was  better, I never felt thirsty once on a hot day, and my power was strong and consistent all day. Last year I complained of needing some kind of “bonus” feed to level things out. This was it, for sure.

I carried 1.75 liters of water on the first leg, and 2 liters on legs 2 and 3. I basically killed my water on leg 1, and had maybe 1/4 a liter left on the latter two legs. I could have carried a bit less on leg 2 (I spilled a good bit due to a leaky valve and then losing my bite valve), but it is also one of the hottest and hardest legs, I had plans to attack, and I did not want dehydration to limit my power. I knew if I got into the meat of the climb and felt like I was carrying too much water I could dump or chug.

My feeds were the same as they were last year, and maybe the year before. I ate 100-150 cals every 45 minutes in the form of Cliff Shotbloks and Honey Stinger Waffles; a Kind energy bar (some type of fruity nutty flavor) at each checkpoint; and included a Cliff Mocha Shot for the final stretch of the third leg (NOS). I did not eat anything caffeinated until the final leg.

I carried way more food then I needed.  I ate one waffle per leg, I’m pretty sure I ate one pack of shotblocks per leg, but it’s a little hazy.

Here’s one critical take away: I made sure to take feeds before starting any of the descents to prime the fuel lines, so to speak. Adam once said something to the extent of: Fuel your uphills by fueling on downhills. (Technically, I think he said that if you eat at the base of a climb to fuel your climb, you missed the boat).

I carried all my food onboard again, did a backpack swap out at each checkpoint, and thanks to Carly and crew, had seamless transitions.

Two Favorite Kenai Epics

Russian-Res-Devils Loop

Distance: 76 miles

Climbing: 7,000 feet

Season: June, or late September

The gist:

Start at Devils Creek Trail Head, take the Seward Highway 2 miles to Tern Lake Picnic Area, and head down the Old Seward Highway to where it meets up with Crescent Creek Road/Quartz Creek Road. For a 90 miler and an additional 1500’ or so of climbing, add an out-and-back on Crescent Lake Trail. Otherwise, follow Crescent Creek Road to Quartz Creek Road to the Sterling Highway. Cross the highway, heading left toward Cooper, and take the first jeep road immediately on the right. The jeep road climbs steeply. Stay left past the junction with a cell tower. After passing a high point with a great overlook, the road spits you back down on the highway briefly. Ride the shoulder carefully for about 100 feet until you spot the ATV trail heading into the woods on the right. The ATV trail is actually rather techy in places, even though it parallels the roadway. It will briefly spit you back out on the shoulder twice on the way to Cooper: first very briefly onto a gravel shoulder before heading back into the woods; and again to cross a driveway (take the driveway for 20 feet and the ATV trail will dive left off the driveway), before eventually joining a utility corridor. The corridor can get a little mucky, and trail will exit to the left to follow a wide and safe gravel shoulder the rest of the way to Cooper.

This ATV segment sounds more complicated than it actually is, and is a million times safer to ride than riding the shoulder of the highway! The short section of highway between Cooper Landing and Quartz Creek Road is not safe to ride!

Head through Cooper, cross the Kenai River (pedestrian bridge is located on downstream side of bridge), and cross the highway onto Snug Harbor Road. Take Snug up to Russian Lakes trailhead. After riding the 20-some miles of Russian Lakes trail, it may be worth taking a quick side trip toward the campground to refill on water. This is close to the mid-point of the ride. When you hit the trail head/parking lot, go left, up the campground road toward the campgrounds. Water is available at the RV dump station on your left, maybe ¾ of a mile.

From Russian, head down to the Sterling Highway, go left on the highway to the Resurrection Pass Trail Head.

Take Res Pass Trail to Devils Junction, and drop down Devils Creek Trail back to the TH and your car.

Hints:

This is a really smooth link up, with a lot of gravel to tie the trails together, with very limited pavement. The trails themselves are pretty easy: Russian is about as advanced as things get, but it’s a “descent” on this route. As noted, the ATV connection between Quartz Creek Road and Cooper Landing sounds complicated, but it’s literally an ATV trail next to the road, just keep following it. Also as noted, it has a few short techy sections to keep it interesting, and is a major asset to have as an alternative a connection to avoid a very dangerous segment of roadway.

Water is available at the Tern Lake Picnic Area (two people to use this pump), Quartz Creek Boat Launch (spigot), and the Russian River Campground (spigot).

The season on this ride is pretty much June onward, and is limited by snow in Res and Devils Pass early in the month, and vegetation on Russian later in the month. It’s pretty likely that this ride will include some snow drift cyclocross action through Devils Pass.

This loop could open up in September-Early October in cold and dry autumns.

I hit this loop for the first time on 2016 with Carey G, and again this year with Chuck D. Both years, the early to mid-June timeframe seemed to be the money spot for low veg and few snow crossings.

Both years, I opted for the simpler 76-mile option, and both years, the total ride time was around 7:45 at a reasonable pace, though could easily be driven down by quite a bit with more motivation.

In a head-to-head between this loop or the Resurrection-Devils-Johnson Loop (90 miles), I pick this one as my favorite.

Res-Devils-Johnson 2017

90 miles

8,000 Feet climbing

Time: Mid-June through July 4

I’d completed RDJ in various formats and rig choices in 2013, 14, and 15, but I just wasn’t super pleased with this route, and I took a break from the RDJ last season. The forecasts and fast-growing veg on Johnson last year didn’t inspire me to get after it.

This year, I had a choice for the weekend of June 24-25: do Arctic MTB’s Double-Down Race on a course designed by Ryan G, and well suited for someone who does well on climb-heavy and rooty courses (ya, that’s me), or head to the Kenai. It was a tough call, but the forecast was spectacular, and with July Fourth the following weekend – a holiday I try not to spend on the Peninsula – and a summer so far lacking in sunny weekends, it seemed like a Kenai Epic was a worthy pursuit.

Meredith was interested in riding the trail portion of the RDJ this year, and after mulling some different options, we came up with a new twist.

For starters, we’d ride the route clockwise, which is the opposite direction of how I’ve always ridden it. We’d also start the ride at the North Johnson Pass Trail Head, and this time, I’d employ a road bike for the long road segment.

The key element to this plan was just that: we’d be leaving my road bike at a colleague of Meredith, Doug’s, cabin, outside Hope. 

The bane of this loop is it’s 28 miles of road (24 paved) between North JP TH, and the North Resurrection Pass Trail Head. This long stretch of pavement has long steered the counter-clockwise routing of the ride, as at least that put the bulk of the hateful road riding pointed toward sea level.

I tried to ease the pain of this long road connection in previous renditions by riding a hard tail for the whole loop, or having a hard tail staged at the North JP TH for just the road portion.

I wasn’t sure that riding a road bike after 67 miles would really make me think better of this loop, but it was obvious almost immediately: the 24-miles between Doug’s and the car went way smoother and faster with drop bars and 28c tires. Lest I say it, I really enjoyed the road connection!

The other two benefits however, were less apparent beforehand, but definitely afterward. First, riding Johnson Pass north to south right off the bat gets the most technical part of the ride out of the way immediately, and second, climbing Devils and up to Res is downright pleasant compared to the opposite. Climbing the north side of Res is the most tedious, dull, and hateful section of trail on the Kenai…not that I have strong opinions on it or anything...

Early on in the day, we bumped into Kenai 250 riders Aaron, Dusty, Anson, and Kevin. I had a feeling we might see a few of the boys later on.

The clouds lifted as rode through swarms of hatching bugs on Johnson, but temps stayed reasonable. In the south Johnson TH I popped my helmet off my head, and a mass of dead midges fell from my head!

We stopped at the “rust pipe” at Tern Lake Day Use Area on the 7-mile road connection between south JP and Devils for a water refill. Up Devils we caught back up with Kevin, and could see Anson a little ways off as we neared the high point.

For time management (Meredith’s ride would end around 67 miles at Doug’s cabin, while mine would continue another 24 miles to the car) we decided this would be a good time to split off.

I bombed through the descent to Hope, and onward to the cabin. Having learned from before, I left the clock running through my turnaround for feed-management purposes. I dumped my pack, changed to road shoes, snapped in some dark lenses, and made sure to grab my car key.

I felt really good, and as I steered the road bike out onto the Hope Highway, my legs told me to give it all I had.

I had an absolute blast powering up Hope Highway and onward on the bike path to Johnson.

About a mile or two before I made it to the car, my legs started to fizzle, so I tapped a little deeper, casting aside the thought of a cool down, and spinning the Solace’s slick tires over loose stones right up the short gravel road to the car.

I rolled in an awesome and complete physical and mental wreck.

Great ride.

Ready for a Kenai July epic?

Here’s my favorite:

Hope 96

Soggy Bottom 2016

Short version.

I finished in fourth (again) in 9 hours 53 minutes, accomplishing my goal of cracking 10 hours, and frankly, doing better than I anticipated, given the actually soggy conditions this year. That being said, the trail and weather could have been a lot worse, so I’m thankful.

Also on the awesome front: Meredith, riding the 85 mile Petite. This girl had never ridden more than 20 miles at a shot before this summer. She killed it in her first endurance event, 9:06! Look for her in the 100 next year.

Despite a slower start to this season, my legs felt good for the effort, and had it been dry, I would have been shooting for sub 9:45. I kept my feed and water strategies essentially the same this year, but employed a way faster turnaround method at the check points by simply swapping packs, and kept all my food onboard the bike in a Revelate gas tank bag. Definite success.

 

Crossing the invisible finish line in Hope, 9:53. Photo: C. Renfro

Long Version

I knew the soggy was going to be cold and gray this year. Obviously, I didn’t really, but sometime back in June, I just had this feeling it wasn’t going to be hot and sunny like the last two years.

To an extent, I hoped it would be a little cooler, and somewhat wetter, than the rest of our summer. I rode the course, sans the road leg to and from Hope, in mid-July during an extended heat wave. It was incredibly hot and dry, too dry, sections of trail were loose like I’d never seen.

On that ride, I did 96 miles (9 shy of the actual course length) in 9:40. My pace was good, but I was in no particular hurry at the Cooper and Devils trail heads where I met Dave – who was generously supporting both myself, and Jessie and Meredith that day. My transitions were close to 10 minutes that day as I leisurely chatted, and I stopped a couple times on the ride to chat with others. Still, it was a good sign that things were shaping up. I knew aiming for 9:45 on race day if conditions were similar was a good goal.

I would reiterate here from other years, the best way to train for an event like this is not actually doing 8-10 hours rides. Most my long rides are 6 hours or less, but I don’t stop. One or two rides in the 8-10 hour range over the summer is good for mental training, but pushing a faster pace and not stopping for breaks on 4-6 hour rides is far better training.

Anyway, my predictions on the weather were unfortunately correct. About 2 weeks out, the hot and dry pattern started shifting. Just a week out, the initial onslaught of rain had done little to the bone dry trail, but the weather guessers promised steady rains in the days preceding the race, and on race day itself.

Sure enough, it started raining Thursday, and it looked like it might not let up all weekend.

I set the no-go mark at 1.5” of rain in 48 hours as the cutoff. For comparison, 0.75” in a similar timeframe would have been the mark for riding the trail in general.

By Thursday afternoon, the rain gauge in Cooper was already at .75” with no apparent end in sight and I basically said I was out. It let up that night though, and Friday it really didn’t rain.

Meredith was committed to riding the 85 mile Petite, come hell or high water, so I was going regardless, whether to ride, or to support her.

I swapped out tires on the Yeti, loading my standard front tire, a Maxxis Ardent 2.25” on the back, and putting an Ardent 2.4” on the front. Normally I would run a 2.2” Ardent Race or even a 2.2” Ikon on the back.

I knew traction was going to be essential in the trail’s peanut butter mud compared to any weight savings or reduced rolling resistance.

We made the final preparations on Meredith’s bike that afternoon, and got everything ready.

I was back in.

I slept with ear buds that night to be sure if it started raining I wouldn’t hear it and let it pervade my restless sleep, but there was no mistaking the steady thrum on the roof when I awoke to the 4:30 gloom of the belching alarm.

Mentally, I was out, again.

Still, I checked the rain gauges…only a quarter inch.

When we pulled into Hope around 7:30, the off-and-on rain had just barely stopped.

I set up Meredith’s bike, got her all checked in and signed off.

Oscar, Nick, and Clint came over and hassled me to suck it up and ride.

I didn’t want to talk too much about not racing. No need to spread my negativity to others, right?

With Meredith good to go, I walked to the beach and stared at the radar, and toward the Pass, and thought about it.

Some little sucker holes were showing up, and the radar promised that at least for the next 4 hours, it really wasn’t going to rain.

Both Meredith and I had put towels in our checkpoint bags so if we decided to bail out we could sit on the towels in someone’s car. I figured if I got to Cooper and the trail totally sucked, I could always bail. Likewise, if the weather flipped on the way to Devils, I could just quit and ride straight to Hope. This is an easy day and event to bail on.

I knew if I didn’t race though, I was going to be way more ticked off. The worst thing that could happen if I rode, was that I would be ticked at trail conditions and quit; that was far better than the alternative of being ticked off for the next 365 days that I didn’t even try.

I looked at my watch, it was 7:56. I waited 4 more minutes, and went and signed in.

What a massive amount of mental energy just to race.

The biggest takeaway: I need to pick another event Outside, a 50-100 miler, with enough girth on either side of the Soggy, to race as well. It sucks to have all your eggs in one historically wet basket.

I got some encouraging grins and more hassling, but my attitude remained quite dark, even on the start line.

Off we went.

There was no neutral start to Res Road, and things were pretty road racy to the trail head, definitely much faster than last year.

Once we hit the trail head, I fell back into position.

Adam, Chuck, Brian, Kevin, Owen, and Chris all disappeared ahead of me, and I slowly passed relay riders.

The trail was wet and muddy where it normally is, but overall, a lot of sections that could have been muddy seemed to have been too hard packed to let any water permeate.

Basically, one could literally say about the entire course, “if you know how bad Res gets when it’s wet, it could have been worse, a lot worse.” There were some really lousy sections for sure, but I think standing water was more pervasive than actual mud. As the day wore on and the weather held, the trail actually improved.

Just a little over the pass, descending into a mist, I caught what I’m pretty sure was another relay rider, when: Bam Hiss!

He was the first victim of many I would see during the day to have their tires shredded.

A combo of bad luck, slippery rocks, and perhaps insufficient sidewall protection would send many riders to the side of the trail during the day to fix flats.

I ran higher pressure than normal. My traction on slimy rocks sucked, but the tires had a bit more bite in the mud, and better resilience to sliding off the sharp-edged rocks. It’s also not a bad idea to invest in fresh treads for this event either.

As I passed Devil’s Junction, Chris was off to the side of the trail, also fixing a flat.

The descent was just a hoot through the slimy rocks…and I was definitely worried about uphill traction on the way back up, but it was otherwise uneventful.

Once I hit Juneau Lake, the good times and drier trail conditions came to an end. The stretch from Juneau Lake to Bean Creek Junction is a ditch. I hate it.

I came around a corner on the shore of Juneau Lake and saw Brian, soft pedaling, riding his rim. Bad luck struck again for him in this event, two years in a row. His race was done.

I pointed out at least he wouldn’t have to ride through this swamp again and he laughed and wished me luck.

A minute or two later I heard what I thought was Brian, splashing behind me, which sort of surprised me, given his lack of a tire. When I looked back, it was Chris.

I let him around me, but his pace seemed just a titch faster than mine so I latched on.

We ended up riding together to Bean Creek Junction, chatting the whole way, mostly about racing and riding hard tails (which he was on). The conversation and company was immensely helpful in making this boring stretch of trail go by quicker.

Compared to other years, this race was crazy social for me. I would ride with three others before reaching Hope, compared to riding almost entirely alone last year.

I pulled away from Chris as the trail began it’s descent to Cooper, but I figured if things worked out, he’d probably catch me on the way back up, and I might be so lucky to have someone to chase/ride with back through this same stretch.

Unfortunately, Chris flatted again about three miles above Cooper and had to jog down and fix the tire at the check point. He was still able to finish though.

The Cooper check point felt chaotic. Little Gus and grandma Carol were standing at the trail head, and when I called and waved to Gus, he came gliding along with me on his strider to the support area. Obviously, being a Reimer, he was hauling right along, when suddenly he face planted!

Fortunately, also being a Reimer, I think he puffed the grit from his little face and puffed more at the indignity of having such a public wreck, but he was up a second later.

The Susitna Bike Institute provided neutral mechanical support at the checkpoints and start this year, and I found their service to be excellent. I had hardly pulled up to the table where Carly and Ted greeted me, before one of the mechanics rushed over to see what my bike needed.

Truthfully, all I really needed was an extra hand to hold the bike, and some mental focus, but I felt a little overwhelmed, despite the simplicity I had in mind for my transitions.

I had 5 things to do at the checkpoints this year:

• Shove a snack in my mouth and take a few swigs of water
• Pour water on my drive train
• Squirt lube on my chain
• Empty the wrappers from my pockets
• Switch backpacks

I rode the first leg with my camelback on, loaded with 1.5L of water, a spare tube, pump, and an old Voler vinyl shell.

I gave Carly a box that contained another camelback backpack with the same contents (sans the shell); as well as a third bladder filled with 1.5L was water. I would trade out backpacks in Cooper, and Carly would simply put the fresh bladder in the first pack for me so I could swap back out again at Devils. The only thing I could have done better was perhaps throw my nice rain shell in one of the packs so I didn’t feel obliged to swap them. That being said, I never wore a shell once, and had it been sunny, I would not have taken it at all. It was kind of just there for superstition.

Like years past, I had a snack for the transition (some type of fruity/sugary Kind bar) a water bottle to take a few swigs from, a jug of water to pour on the drivetrain, and chain lube.

Unfortunately, I tried to do everything at once, so chaos ensued. Carly and Ted were great though, and the mechanic was ready to take my bike and tune it if I had wanted. Everything was good, but I asked him to give my fork’s rebound a click as it was feeling a tad slow, which probably seems simple, but in such an addled mental state, was huge for me. I think he scrubbed my chain with a brush too, which might not have been needed, but was nice that they were there to do.

I was glad to trot away back to the trail.

This year, I was also careful to jog very slowly in short gentle strides through the parking lot.

I noticed in years past, the climb out of Cooper was unreasonably painful. Thinking about it, I think I damaged muscle tissue running too quickly in the parking area. The descent is long, and body position is relatively static, allowing tired muscles to tighten up. Then all of a sudden you jump off the bike and slam muscles through motions they haven’t done once yet all day? Ya, that’s probably not a good idea when you spell it out, huh? I’m going say, it probably made a difference, the climb wasn’t that bad this year.

I was still really nervous. The trail was slick, the brush high, and an accident with a descending rider seemed very likely.

I rang my handle bar bell incessantly, and again, it worked. I feel like every rider in the race should be required to use one, they cost $10 and weigh 5-10 grams, but dang they get heard. Bear bells are maybe helpful for slower-moving hikers, but are worthless for oncoming riders.

Descending riders were remarkably respectful; many of them came to a full stop, which, though not always even necessary, is still greatly appreciated.

The shining moment though, was seeing my girlfriend, Meredith, leading Jill and Amber down to Cooper. She looked great, confident, and strong, in good company.

Before this year, Meredith’s longest ride was 20 miles. She’d worked up to 65 this year, and has been racing the XC races in the expert division, but this ride would be her longest yet. She had learned as much as I had probably learned in years of riding in a matter of months, sometimes the hard way. It was really paying off.

As I pedaled on, I was so proud of her, and I wondered if she would continue to ride with Amber and Jill, and if they would try to convince her to go for the full 100 with them.

She had a chaotic turn around in Cooper and lost the two (they thought she had already turned around and was ahead of them). Otherwise, I think she would have gone for it with them. Next year, expect a packed and strong women’s field in the 100.

The sun came out on the way to Devils, and I felt great.

This was the worst leg for me last year by far the last two years.

Not this year.

Just as I started hiking up the switchbacks on the summer cutoff above Swan Lake, I heard something behind me, and saw a Revolution kit through the branches.

“CLINT!” I yelled in shock.

No, it was Oscar, racing on a relay team with Pete and Janus. He was hoping to sneak up on me and ask to pass, like he did in the 24 hours of Kincaid.

Failed in that joke, I had good company for the annoying hike-a-bike section, and made sure to return some of the ribbing he gave me in the morning.

The sun was out, I was halfway through the race, and the last stretch of lousy trail lay just ahead. Things were looking good.

I really didn’t want to dab or get knocked off my bike going over the slippery rocks on the last pitch of the south side climb, so I kept my pace slow and steady, leaving my rear shock open through the rocks to ensure my tire stayed glued to the trail.

No problem, never dabbed once.

I rolled through Ryan’s bacon station where I’m pretty sure I got heckled for not having bacon or whisky in my nutrition plan. I love the Devils Pass cheering squad, mentally, they break through the pain wall for a second.

Devils Junction, enroute to Devils Pass, the whisky/bacon/cheering squad. Photo: W. Ross.

 

Anyway, I was on a mission, I was closing in on Kevin and Owen. Riding through Devils Pass, I could see them less than a minute ahead.

Devils was raw, a stiff headwind the whole way down to the brush line and a cold misty rain in the alpine. The descents to both Cooper and Hope featured convenient tailwinds this year (don’t ask me how the winds split in Res Pass, but I see this often up there), meaning you could stay warmer on the way down, while staying cool on the climb. Devils felt harsh comparatively, but it’s also fast and short and I knew I just had to get below the thermal layer; good motivation to ride harder.

One definite advantage to being so far up front in the pack, I was only concerned about three uphill riders: the Team Speedway relay rider (the only relay rider in front of me), Adam, and Chuck.

I was actually surprised to see how close I was to the latter two. I also noticed Adam looked a bit rough, but Chuck looked good.

This was going to be a good race for Chuck, and I wondered if he’d catch Adam on the way to Hope. It’s a funny thing to have two of your best riding partners going head to head. It’s hard to know just who to root for.

Anyway, once I saw Chuck, I shut up and went into stealth mode.

I caught Owen just above the bridge at the base of the main descent.

He didn’t look good.

He stuck with me though, which surprised me once we began the steady climb from Quartz Creek to the trailhead.

If he was suffering, why was he fighting to stay on for this relatively short climb to a check point?

We caught up with Kevin within ear shot of the road, and positions 3-5 all rode in together.

Craziness.

I felt charged, and figured the best bet was to rush Kevin and Owen and give them no rest.

Ted grabbed my bike, and this time, I nailed my transition.

Mouth stuffed with the remnants of my snack, if I was turned around and ready to roll in any more than three minutes, I’ll be surprised. I signaled my number (my race plate was heavily spackled in mud and my mouth stuffed) to the surprised timer.

Owen must have jumped, and was back on my wheel at Quartz Creek. Kevin caught up as we began the climb in earnest.

Owen was possessed it seemed. For someone that looked to be at the end of his rope, he was digging deep on the climb, and latched onto relay rider Janus, who passed all three of us.

I asked Kevin if he wanted to come around, but he said he was good. We rode together to the end of the rock gardens, around mile 7 or so.

There wasn’t a lot of extra oxygen for conversation, but it was nice to have two sets of eyes going up the climb. More than once I put my head down to dig into a pitch, only to hear Kevin whoop at an approaching rider I might not have seen. Again, descending riders were super awesome and respectful.

I was also bit more hesitant to ding my bell on this climb with Owen just out front. I didn’t want to give him too much leverage on his lead.

Above the rock gardens, the misty Pass in front of us, we could see Owen about 30 seconds ahead.

I knew Kevin had to have a stronger pace in his legs, and told him to get after it. Third place was on the line.

Kevin took off and slowly built a lead. I watched Owen briefly try to latch on, but quickly dropped off.

I caught Owen a few minutes later just above the Devils Junction.

He latched onto my wheel and hung on as we tore along the rolling trail in Res Pass proper.

I really don’t know for sure where I dropped him. I was too nervous to look back until practically Fox Creek.

Eventually, I did glance back along one of the straightaways and didn’t see him.

On the opposite side of Res Creek, my legs were really starting to fade. I’d hammered all the short climbs between East Creek and Caribou, but I was struggling with the short canyon climbs now, and cursing them.

Fortunately, I still had ample power for the flats.

When I hit the road, I hung onto the underside of my bars and powered time trial style to Hope, happy to see I was amazingly going to crack 10 hours.

I passed the start, and I guess not surprisingly, felt completely overwhelmed. I dug really deep the last hour.

I rode back to the start line and got a high five from Kevin. I asked how long he’d been in, and he said two or three minutes.

I thought he was being nice, he had a beer in hand, I figured he had to have been there for longer, but was really surprised later to see he was dead serious.

It was a solid ride, a solid race. I didn’t feel like I had a whole lot more I could have done on the last leg.

 

After thoughts:

The two backpack system was awesome. I will surely be doing that in the future.

I also used the gas tank bag on my top tube to carry all my food. This meant less hassle at the transitions, and less hassle digging in jersey pockets. The waist straps on my packs cut off access to the pockets, sometimes making them hard get into.

I also had a realization during the Double Down XC race this year that a crash could make it hard to access jersey pockets, something you won’t realize until it happens, but could have a big effect.

I carried three gluten-free Honey Stinger Waffles, four non-caffeinated Cliff Shotbloks, and two caffeinated Shot Blocks. Like last year, I saved the caffeinated stuff until the last leg to avoid getting strung out. I have not been using caffeinated nutrition this summer while riding either.

The reason I used the GF waffles was not nutrition, but consistency. The GF ones seem to be less prone to crumbling or breaking, and frankly, a bit more tasty. Don’t expect to see me on a GF tear here, I just found them more reliable.

I ate all three waffles (one per leg), 3 non-caf blocks, and 1.5 caf blocks, plus a Kind bar at each check point.

My feed frequency has stayed the same, approximately 100 calories approximately every 45 minutes starting at 90 mins, alternating between packs of blocks and waffles, and making use of slower sections of trail (short climbs) to get my feeds.

I probably could have used at least one “bonus” feed somewhere in there, or have taken my first feed after 60 minutes, as it seemed my pre-start snack was insufficient. If the Yeti could conveniently carry a water bottle, I’d definitely carry just a titch less water per leg in my bladder and use something like diluted Gatorade to help with said “bonus” feed.

Lacking this option, I’m not sure exactly where I’d throw in this bonus feed. I’ll have to think about it.

I also might have liked a high-caf gu, like a Cliff Mocha Shot, for the final 10 miles of the last leg, instead of another shot block.

AK Fall: Best if Enjoyed in Moderation

Psst. I have a secret. I kind of like fall in Southcentral Ak.
It’s an acquired taste for sure. Perhaps not the sweetest of autumn vintages – can anything compete with Indian summer during peak foliage in New England?
Alaska fall is not something that can, or should be consumed in any great quantity, but it is sweet, even if not long to be savored.
Sometime during the endless daylight of the summer the solstice, I awake from sleep – already a scarce commodity – and lay awake in the burning light of 4 am, having just dreamt that the short summer had already ended, and darkness was returning. It’s part a horror, part a wish.
This summer was hot, dry, and awesome. I got a lot of time in the saddle. Too much? As the day’s waned, and nights grew, I had to admit, I was looking forward to a break, and a change in pace.

Res-Devils

I caught two great rides on the Kenai with Nathan A. First on the list was the Res-Devils Loop on the last weekend and the last Sunday of August. Both of us had just wrapped up from the Trifecta races, so the legs were tired, and some very light overnight showers Saturday put a dusting of snow on the ridgelines and provided plenty of inspiration.
Despite this, the trail was still dry, and while there wasn’t much foliage to speak of down low, colors in the passes were approaching peak.

 

Overlooking Kenai Lake.

Juneau Lake.

Love this section.

Swan Lake

Bone dry, blue skies, bright color.

Snow on the ridges.

Looking back to the Pass from Hope overlook.

Russian Loop

I expected to spend a bit more time on Russian this fall than I ended up realizing, so in retrospect, I’m really glad we snagged this ride over Labor Day. The weather wasn’t particularly stunning, and admittedly colors weren’t quite peaking yet, but with this trail fully brushed out, it was hard to complain.

Kenai Lake break.

Cloudy reflections.

Burning fireweed below Cooper Peak.

 

Running
The fact that I run is a well-kept secret. I actually run quite a bit for someone who identifies as a cyclist. That doesn’t mean I’m strong, or fast, but there are some great over-land runs to be had in AK, and this is my time of year to branch out. I hadn’t been on Summit Creek Trail since 2013, and hadn’t been over the Summit Creek/East Creek Pass since 2009. Adam was an awesome sport and joined me for a run to the col between East Creek and Resurrection Pass. From there, we turned southward and followed the ridgeline upward and eventually back around to a high col the leads to a hidden tarn just a bit below and east of the East Creek/Summit Creek Pass.

 

Looking down to East Creek/Summit Creek Pass.

Looking for goats. None sighted.

An after work run on McHugh Peak with Lee. Photo L.M.

Crow Pass Skiing

A typical wet fall storm parked over the region early in September delivering rain for 13 days straight. Somehwere toward the end of that deluge, temps dropped and snow started stacking up above Hatcher Pass and Crow Pass. I knew the window might open, and on Friday the 18^th, I slid my bedroom shades back, planning to go to work, only to be greeted by blue skies and an incredibly low snow line.
I was grateful I’d put my ski gear away ready to go, and quickly packed my bag and went down to the garage to scrape the off-season storage wax from my bases while scarfing down eggs and bacon.
There were a few inches of sopping-wet snow clinging to the leafy alders at the Crow Pass Trail Head, and I needed my storm shell to keep dry as the warm morning sun turned the trail into a cold, wet, collapsed alder obstacle course. I was stupid enough to beat anyone else up to the pass, and from the waterfalls upward, ended up breaking the skinner in about 2 feet or more heavy fresh, underlain by a solid but saturated base. Clouds moved in as I climbed, but moved in and out at rapid intervals, providing easy windows to ski through. A few others showed up later, and I ended up doing two runs. A third would have been nice, but I didn’t have confidence the clouds would keep up their intervals. I skied all the way back to the top of the falls without tagging a single rock: Easily the deepest skiing I’ve done in September or October.

 

Looks more like winter than mid-September.

The Summit Glacier has suffered in the heat. The cracks are big.

Burma Road Loop

I really enjoy road riding in the Valley during the shoulder seasons, but I’ve stuck to Palmer and Butte on these rides. I’d wanted to check out a loop in the Knik/Point Mackenzie/Big Lake area that included a long chunk of dirt on Burma Road. I’d Burma was a good road, and Phil was up for an adventure. As with most other Valley riding, it was really pleasant. We parked at the Wal-Mart, and traffic was pretty light, and generally very respectful. A lot of the main roads in the valley have parallel bike paths, but unlike Anchorage, where these paths cross hundreds of driveways and side streets where the right-of-way is ambiguous, in the Valley these intersections are far less frequent. That being said, theese paths also tend to be covered in loose rocks kicked up by ATVs and quads, so they can be a mixed blessing. Burma Road itself though was excellent: good flow, narrow, rolling, winding, and well packed. There were two very large puddles at the south end. Phil, on his cross bike, rode through both. I was on the road bike with its 25C slick tires, I made it through the first but portaged the second. Other than that, both bikes were equally adept at this ride, though it was pavement heavy, and I think slicks and taller gears were optimal.

Knik Arm.

Burma Road.

For real?

 

Cyclocross

I’ve been helping out with the Arctic Cross cyclocross race series the past few falls. I don’t have a burning desire to race cross for a number of reasons excuses, starting with the fact that I’m a wuss; but I do like watching cross racing since you can often see a good chunk of the course from a single point, and more importantly, I like hanging out with my friends. We added an event this year so we now have three adult races, plus a short kids race, and cross has gone from being a half-day event with maybe 50 people to basically a full-day activity with 125-200 entrants!
One day, for giggles, I stuck my Garmin in my pocket and let it run while I, umm, ran around, setting up the course, timing, and taking the course back down: I logged about 6 miles over 6-7 hours. It was neat to see. Fortunately, a lot of people pitch in, otherwise that number would be a lot higher!
Photos from the season: LINK

 

CX T-REX.

Do nothing

As winter turns into spring, the days get longer, and so with it, the activity list. Some of the biggest ski missions of the year come by a defacto in March-May thanks to better weather, deeper snow, and the need to chase that cold and deep snow into the higher elevations. At the same time, road riding, and soon enough, mountain biking ramp up and there’s a pressing need to start putting in more time on the saddle. Suffice to say, the spring shoulder season isn’t really a shoulder season at all. I’m OK with that, but I’m a firm believer in doing a big-block recovery, and I’m not talking about a recovery ride or mellow day, I’m talking about a real block. Some folks fret about how boring fall is here and how there’s nothing to do. I say: embrace it, take a rest.

Get out

The leaves have dropped, the sun is noticeably lower, but the snow line seems stagnant. Get out of town, get out of state, get out of country…more on that later:

6:30am in LAX Ted Bradley...