8+ days on the Iditarod Trail: Part Three

Alabama Bumble Snow Monster.

McDougalls to Shell Lake: ~101 miles, 2 days 16 hours

I awoke to my phone alarm after a few hours of blissful and deep sleep. I was all warm and happy but hungry! I wish I could lie there several more hours but I needed to get moving. It was getting close to first light and I'd planned for a big push all the way to Shell Lake, some 30+ miles away. This could take well over 15 hours if all I could do was to continue plugging away at 2 mph moving pace.  I also planned to make a quick stop about half way at the Skwetna Roadhouse where I'd finally be leaving river travelling behind for a while. So, I had to get going if I wanted to make it to Shell Lake at a reasonable hour without having to travel completely through the night.

So I quickly collected my now dry gear and packed it away as quietly as I could as the two others upstairs with me were still asleep (or nearly so). I then re-donned most of my base layers, finally changing into clean and dry socks for the first time! Ahhh! Nothing like a fresh pair of socks even though they'd be wet soon enough! More on this topic later... this would be a constant struggle! I crept downstairs with my arms full and quickly shuffled out the door and the short distance back to the main lodge.  It was a beehive of activity inside. I think everybody had the same idea; winter race logic. Time to move on! Several bikers and foot racers; some who'd been ahead of me and several others who'd slipped in behind me in the night. The hostesses were amazing! Serving up yet another hot meal and coffee! COFFEE! But before breakfast I had to use the facilities and to my amazement when I asked where they were, expecting to be directed back outside to an unheated outhouse, instead they said oh you can use the portable toilet upstairs! Not quite a flush toilet but, real TP in a warm space? Wow! To my great regret, I didn't realize until far too late, that showers were fair game! Doh! That would've been amazing!  Anyhow I went back downstairs and stuffed my belly yet again with some good grub right along with half a dozen or so other racers.

Nobody seemed in any particular hurry to get back out there, myself included. But, I'd had an epiphany that morning (see sleeping a bit more does have it's benefits!) that perhaps the way I'd always been loading up my sled was flawed. That the load was unbalanced in such a way to cause me great angst!  Sure enough, now that I finally actually STUDIED how my sled was typically packed up I was way to forward heavy; I was causing my sled to dig more into the snow as I pulled. No wonder I'd been having issues. Issues not only at this race but in ALL my previous winter races when I used a sled! I'd not been storing all my water containers at the very front of the sled, this typically amounted to at least 3-4 liters inside HydroFlasks or other heavy insulated containers. I also had most of my foot upfront. The middle portion of the sled was typically all my clothing with the most likely to be needed stuff towards the top and the lesser likely stuff in various strata below all the way to the bottom. Back end of the sled was pretty much one giant packed down dry bag containing my entire bivy system: MSR waterproof bivy sack -> Klymit insulated inflatable pad -> Mountain Hardware Lumina -30F bag. Yeah, pretty dumb right? Easily the heaviest stuff was right in the forward 1/3 to 1/4 of my sled! So I was in no rush to get out of there, instead I put on a bunch of layers (over dressed) and went out to my sled with all my dried out gear and basically dumped my entire sled bag out onto the covered porch. I then carefully re-packed the sled bag with the heavier items toward the middle 1/3, i.e. my insulated bottles and insulated soft ice-chest along with all my food. The big dry bag still stayed in back but now my extra layers of stuff moved more forward but the heavier, bigger items found a place in other nooks and crannies further away from the front.  Once I was finished I could tell a big difference just picking my entire sled up from either end. It felt more balanced, that the center of gravity was definitely in the middle now! Damn I'm dumb! I've got a Ph.D. and it's taken me how long to figure this out? Well, that is one of the downsides of doing these winter ultras coming from Alabama, I don't have many opportunities to test gear or gear setups! No excuses though, I should've figured this one out a long time ago!

Now I was actually excited to get going. Not that I wanted to leave The McDougall but I couldn't wait to see if my sled re-balancing actually worked.  In short. Yes it did. Amazingly so!  Anyhow, I ended up heading out just ahead of the other racers I'm pretty sure; some might have slipped away without me noticing, it's honestly a bit of a blur at this point. I'm trying to document what I remember! It was pretty cold that morning and respectable headwind to boot. But after just a few miles out it began to get lighter and lighter out with the rising sun. Still very cloudy, but not near as socked in as it had been the last couple of days. The trail was firm enough to go without snowshoes so I took advantage. That is possibly, in my mind, the only real benefit of travelling overnight is that the colder it gets the more likely what soft trail you had will at least "set up" or firm up enough to allow easier travel. It's a fine line though, too cold and the snow can obtain a gritty texture like sandpaper that makes dragging a sled much more difficult.  But just being out of snow shoes would be a huge plus; almost enough to convince me to try going through the night some more. Naw, just kidding. Night time is for sleeping!

The other big reason to travel over night is the lack of "civilian" traffic to mess up the trail, i.e. snow mobiles. Note: I honestly have nothing against snowmobiles or snowmobilers; I've spent a healthy amount of time snowmobiling myself in Colorado; it's good fun and an essential tool for survival in the Alaska Wilderness. What follows is more of rant about things one cannot control in a shared use space. Please no hate mail! This is just an observation from the point of view of a human powered athlete along a winter trail. You see, snowmobiles are the Good Cop - Bad Cops of winter ultras. When there is NO TRAIL to speak of, passing snowmobiles are the Good Cops, "here buddy, let me pack down the snow for you, is that better? Great!". In this case it makes your progress easier; instead of having to break trail and post hole like crazy, suddenly you have a trail! Yippee! Now, unfortunately there is a Bad Cop side of snowmobiles. Yes, sometimes you're rocking along at 3-4 mph on a nice firm trail, snowshoes all packed away, High Plains Drifter blasting in your ear buds when all of a sudden you hear that distinctive engine whine from behind, or you see the twinkling of a headlamp far ahead of you. And then, you think to yourself or downright curse out loud, "Aw *uck!!!" So you carefully step aside to let the snowmobile(s) (there's always more than one) by; hopefully it's not too deep on the side of trail but it usually is and you end up post holed up to your waist.  You fake a smile and wave or even flash a thumbs up, even when you'd prefer to flash a different finger.  That beautiful trail is now a soft, chewed up mess. Bad Cops. "You think you're something special? Hiking out here on our turf? "Ididiots!" Now let's see how fast you can hike!" And away they go... Early on during the ITI I still had a lot of optimism. Perhaps the trail won't be too soft and chewed up? Maybe it won't be bad? So I'd try and hike it some more and end up cursing some more and stopping to put on my snowshoes. Well before halfway through the ITI I didn't even bother, I'd just put on the snowshoes almost as the snowmobiles passed by, or at the very least put on my over-boots (more on that later). Let's just say there were plenty of Good Cops and Bad Cops out there. Stay tuned, there is an incredible Good Cop story coming...

Typical soft mushy snow track. Bad Cop.

But traveling during the early morning hours is often just as good as travelling overnight. I at least would typically have several hours before there would be any snowmobile traffic. The further I went in the race the less and less traffic I'd see all day long. The would come a time when I wouldn't see another human being all day!  But this morning I made pretty good time but was definitely fighting some headwind. Early on I spotted another moose and this time I had my phone out ready for the photo. You'll have to trust me on this, but that is a moose dead center in the photo below.

Dead center, resting moose at a "safe" distance away.

This moose was resting; sitting in the snow. They had the right idea!  I can fully relate how tiring it is trying to move through deep snow! Finally got my first views of if not the Alaska Range itself, at least the foothills leading to them. This meant my time on the Yetna river was drawing to a close!

First glimpse of mountains in the distance, along last bit of Yetna River.

As the morning went on and the wind really picked up, I was again finding blown in trail to enough of a degree that I eventually succumbed and put snowshoes on.  The trail was softening some as well and snowmobile traffic picking up just made it more obvious to keep the snowshoes on; probably for a long while yet!  But this is typical for winter river travel on foot; the snow tends to not ever really pack in super well as it can endure a lot of cycles of heating/cooling day/night cycles as well as fresh snow blowing in.  Many more reasons for wanting to get off the river! But the biggest was to finally get back into the woods for a little more wind protection!  As I drew closer to the foothills, I got rocked several times by some pretty strong sustained wind gusts. No telling what those windchills were! At least it was daytime, but wow I was almost knocked off my feet a few times! Finally, off of the main branch of the Yetna I snowshoed right on up to a sign indicating Skwetna Roadhouse was only 4 miles away.

Getting close to the next checkpoint! Sure felt like further than 4 miles however!

Just past the sign I dropped onto the river again, this time it was probably the end of the Skwetna River itself where it joins the Yetna. Turning to follow the trail markers put me right into the ugly teeth of some pretty remarkably strong wind! Luckily I got through this stretch fairly quickly and was now winding around some narrow but majorly ox-bowing river sloughs that ultimately led me off the rivers for good and on a well broken in snowmobile trail (road) leading straight to the road house. Just as I was about to leave the river I heard plane engines roar to life and I just had enough time to dig my phone out and catch a video as the small plane flew right over me.

Plane taking off from Skwetna Roadhouse.

About a mile later I arrived at the Skwetna Roadhouse. There was still a lot of daylight left as it was about mid day or so. I pulled my sled right up to the front porch and joined a few racers inside including Lars Danner who was attempting to ski to McGrath after having successfully covered the same ground in prior years on both foot and bike. If he made it to McGrath this year he'd be the first person to have completed the ITI 350 A'trois (finish in all three disciplines). His was also the GPX route a lot of us were using to navigate the course. I'd communicated many times with Lars in the weeks leading up to the ITI; he was always super helpful and more than willing to share his vast knowledge of the course and winter adventuring. Thank you Lars!  We chatted a bit while we both eat big lunches. I noticed I had cell service and 3G so took the opportunity to upload some photos I'd taken and to call my wife at home. Was so good to hear her voice!  I kept the call short as I really needed to be going. So after my meal and settling up my bill I was back outside loading my gear back up, harnessing in and was off!

Skwetna Roadhouse at last!

I had little difficulty finding the correct way out of Skwetna and back onto the Iditarod Trail; others weren't so lucky.  Turns out we actually left the Iditarod trail for a brief time to cut over to the roadhouse and had to follow another connector trail back to the Iditarod trail. Some folks ended up back tracking or following some other entirely different route. I think I just got lucky or ended up following somebody else's tracks. As I walked along, trying to allow my stomach time to process, I started to think about my plan ahead.

Leaving Skwetna in the afternoon.

I was now in a good position to finish the race easily within 9 days. The cutoff is 10 days and each check point along the way had some intermediate cutoff as well, some number of days. Even as slow as I was going I had a lot of time, even if I had to take A LOT of down time. When you consider the foot record is just over 4 days you wonder why 10 days are allowed at all? They've had years at ITI where they had a 100% finish rate! When's the last time you heard about an ultramarathon having a 100% finish rate? Well those were in good years when the trail was completely snow covered and firm and no snow storms during the race and it didn't get brutally cold. So everybody was pretty fast across the board. This was not going to be a year like that. In fact there were already many racers who'd dropped out and some who'd be fighting to make it to McGrath within the 10 day cutoff! So yeah, I get it now!  Anyhow my plan was try and spend each night at a checkpoint from now on with the exception of the long leg between Rohn and Nikolai which is at least 75 miles (could be a lot more...) in that stretch I'd most likely have to bivy or make it to a small shelter cabin about half way.  This would set me up for one final push from Nikolai to McGrath which is at least 50 miles; a long way but it would be the LAST 50 miles and worth pushing through in one shot. I was a bit over 2 days into the race so, literally counting the race days out on my fingers I came up with the super conservative plan. Day 2.5 Shell Lake, Day 3.5 Puntilla Lake, Day 4.5 Rainy Pass Lodge, Day 5.5 Rohn, Day 6.5 The Burn Bivy or Shelter Cabin, Day 7.5 Nikolai, Day 8.5 McGrath. That left me a full day and half of buffer ahead of the finally cutoff.  As I was working this out, counting fingers in front of my face, Lars came skiing up and chatted with me. I explained to him my plan and he said it sounded pretty good to him as it pretty much matched up with what he was planning. Cool! Lars steadily glided away from me on the long straight, well plowed snow road.

The "road" out of Skwetna, finally some firm ground (temporary).

-Late afternoon on the swamp, audio book and tricky intersection, steep uphill!
The snow road was nice. I was almost even able to run (I'd left the snowshoes strapped to my sled) a bit (well, I had to try!). But soon enough the road petered out and I could hear the wind ahead of me picking up steam. It was an odd experience just standing there at the very end of the snow road; still protected by the thick tree cover on either side. On the verge. As soon as I would walk not even 20 feet out of the treeline I would be whipped by the katabatic winds racing down from the nearby mountain range. I could see (in the picture and video below) the wind literally working its best to bury the trail by blowing loose snow onto it a process typically called "blowing in" or after the fact "blown in". This would happen quite a lot over the remainder of the race. With the hard winds and loose snow abounding trails would frequently disappear almost right before my eyes! In fact after I'd paused to add a wind layer and strode confidently into the gale, I could barely see Lars's ski tracks right underneath me even though I could still see him in the distance. Crazy!

The beginning of the endless swampland after Skwetna.

That wind!

I'd spend the next several miles crossing from one end of this frozen swamp to the other. I only was passed by a couple of bikers (who were at The McDougall that morning) right as I began across but they unexpectedly turned back around and passed me back. The said they weren't sure about continuing on as it looked like they were going to have to push for a really long stretch ahead.  It's got to be demoralizing to be a biker this year when you're only way forward is to push this big heavy beast! I'm not sure I could do it! Kudos for them for trying. I'm pretty sure they both were multi-time finishers of not only the 350 but possible the full 1000 as well. Yeah, the trail really started to get blown in after I continued on. You guessed it, soon enough I was right back into snow shoes. I had not choice this stretch of trail was now buried under several inches of snow. And, yeah, not long later there was enough snow mobile traffic to at least re-open the trail but now it was a soft, churned up mess.  So yeah, snowshoes for the win!  Still, with views like the following series; a Christmas card photo everywhere I looked who could complain?

As I steadily worked my way across the long expanse, soaking in the beauty of the late afternoon lighting, I decided to finish up an audio book.  With no navigational difficulties for a while and wide open enough terrain with which to spot oncoming snowmobiles it was as good a time as any.  Also, my heading had changed to put the fierce wind at my back so it was now just a pleasant snowshoe stroll with the pre-Spring sun still seemingly providing some warmth on my face. 

I almost never run/hike with music or any distractions. I listen to mostly electronic/synth music all the time while at work as a computer scientist-analyst but there it helps keep me focused.  Out running is my chance to be free from the distractions of technology and electronic devices (for the most part); I relish the opportunity to hear water flowing in creeks, wind through the trees, birds chirping... But I was also getting a bit sleepy so having an audio book distraction was in order. And any audio book narrated by R.C. Bray is highly recommended! I highly recommend  the Expeditionary Force series by Craig Alanson if you're into sci-fi like me (it's about all I've enjoyed reading and listening to since I was a teenager).  Anyhow the shadows grew longer and longer and soon enough I'd reached the far tree line and entered the shadows once again.

I snapped a quick photo looking back the way I'd come; marvelling at the peacefulness of the moment. Since Skwetna this was the longest stretch I'd gone without seeing anybody.  It was wonderful!

But now I was back into the woods so no more audio book! It was time to be on high alert as in these close quarters and in the evening twilight there could be moose roaming about.  Sure enough i was yet again seeing moose tracks on either side of and on the trail. They had to be fresh. I was starting up a rise in the trail when I heard the sound of several snowmobiles ahead of me.  I stopped and pulled my sled and myself off the trail as best I could. Even here the trail was still marvelously trenched out and it was difficult to leave enough room for a snowmobile to pass.  A large pack emerged from the dim forest trail moving relatively slowly. The leader held up a hand as he drew near me and they all slowed to a stop. As he pulled up next to me he stopped long enough to tell me that just up ahead was an intersection and that I should go to the RIGHT. I thanked him and he was back on his way along with the rest of the following group. They had Iditarod vests and gear on so perhaps they were trail breakers? Not sure. Anyhow at the top of the small rise I did indeed come to an intersection in the trail.  It was good I'd gotten that trail tip, even though I had a navigational device with me, I might not have checked it and just plodded on straight ahead as the route looked like it would bend around to the right which is exactly what the zoomed out version of my map looked like my track was supposed to do. Instead I turned right and began hiking up an extremely steep series of hills. The following picture doesn't do it justice but it was like I was climbing up a steep bobsled course. Relentless and the walls of the "chute" were sometimes almost head high! Unbelievable amount of snow! I was secretly hoping we'd have the same bobsled run on the far side of the hill so I could ride my sled down!

This was probably one of the only times I was happy to be in snowshoes as the tungsten spikes really dug in and provided ample traction. Not sure I could have dragged my 50lb sled up these steep hills as easily without them. Up and up I climbed. Every time I'd think I was near the top there would be more climbing. WTF? Just when I'd finally given up hope I hit the summit with barely enough light left to see.  Quick aside about available sunlight and available light this time of year. While sunrise was around 8 a.m. and sunset around 6:30 p.m., the really need thing was that at this high latitude the angle the sun made across the sky was very shallow; not straight up and down. So there was actually navigable light a full hour before sunrise and a full hour after sunset. So, even though it was Winter (barely) we had almost 12 1/2 hours of usable light every day to travel by. Kinda neat and something I didn't honestly figure out until I was Out There.

Before heading downhill I stopped to dig out my lighting system which I haven't talked about but were a couple Lumen 115 Clip Lights made by UltrAspire. I went with these because they only take a single AA battery each and use a magnetic clip system so they can be attached almost anywhere. I've grown to loath using a headlamp so instead I would clip both to the sternum strap of my backpack and just use one light at a time for normal usage or both if I really wanted a lot of light. For winter ultra travel on snow, and with the often abundant moon light it's not necessary to have a ton of battery killing lumens. The only thing I messed up with was not bringing Lithium batteries. Big mistake. While I would get decent battery life on the warmer nights (during the early days when it was in the 20s Farenheit) by the end of the race, past the Alaska Range, I was killing batteries quickly! Whoops! Luckily I had packed more than enough batteries!  Anyhow, as I was adding a layer and sorting out my lights, the Kiwi bikers caught up to me. George and Graham. Two of the nicest fellas you'll ever meet. They're joy and enthusiasm, in in extremely adverse conditions, is contagious! They were multi-time ITI veterans and were attempting the 1000 mile this year. They always took things in stride and never got bent out of shape. They'd ride or push until they got tired and took long rest breaks. All about pacing themselves and enjoying the full experience as much as possible. So, we woulds start to get in this pattern of me leaving out ahead of them every day only to get overtaken by them at some point. I never knew when I'd see the pair next, but I knew I'd always see them at some point that day.

George and Graham paused to chat. They confirmed that we were only a couple miles out from Shell Lake. Yippee! Unfortunately I wouldn't have the bobled run I was hoping. I'd climbed up to a high plateau so there'd be no wicked downhill but for a couple of fun stretches. That was the Iditarod trail for you, so full of hope and promise only to be left disappointed at times. Bait and switch all the time! At any rate soon enough the trail emerged out of the woods an onto a small lake, Shell Lake. The bitter cold and wind hit me nearly simultaneously.  In the woods I'd sort of thermally stabilized so dropping onto that exposed lake must've dropped 10 degrees or more in temperature not even counting the gusting head wind! But, I could see the blinking red light in the near distance; I was close! And after only a half mile more I was there. Shell Lake Lodge. Not an official checkpoint but a trail angel that the race utilizes by renting out small bunkhouses.

I pulled my sled up a very steep hill leading off the lake to the lodge then parked it next to a score of other sleds, bikes and skis. Damn, I think the entire race field was here! Sure enough the lodge was still a busy place, even after midnight. There was Beat, long time ITI veteran, about to head back out into the night. He was aiming to make it to Nome for I think the seventh time! Incredible! There were a bunch of my midwest winter ultra friends there as well. Faye and Jeff looked to be getting ready to head out again. This was also a recurrent pattern. I'd arrive at a check point just as they were about to head out. They were full on race mode!  I dropped my gear in a corner and ambled over to the bar and ordered a meal and Coke. It was a cozy little lodge. Was good to see so many folks. But I needed to get to a warm spot and sleep. I devoured my food and drink and asked about lodging. The caretaker said that there were 3-4 cabins not far that were rented out for the racers; I only had to find one that had a free bed.  I learned from the other racers in the lodge that first cabin had a couple bunks available.

So, I paid for my meal then headed back out into the wind and cold to find the bunkhouse. It was pretty easy to find and I was quickly inside out of the cold. It was a very rustic and tiny cabin; but practically a room at the Ritz Carlton as far as I was concerned. There was a bunk bed to the left, occupied by a single snorer, and right in front of me an unoccupied double bed! What unbelievable luck! I hung out my damp gear to dry and set my boots on the ground near the wood burning stove to dry. This turned out to be a rookie mistake as the ground level was still pretty much close to freezing so they never dried out!  You see, there was also a draft in the room from the door not closing all the way to begin with and after a racer looking for a place to sleep "accidentally" left the door partially open when they moved on, disappointed to not find an open bunk I'm sure. Didn't realize that at the time, only thought, damn it's getting cold in here and the stove is stoked up! So I would be very disappointed myself when I woke up the next morning and began to layer up only to find my boots nearly frozen! But, at the moment the stove was going pretty good but I'd have to remember to stoke it later on by adding another log. I laid out my sleeping bag (not wanting to disturb the bedding), plopped in my ear plugs (good pro-tip from some prior ITI veterans) and was soon fast asleep, visions of sugar plums dancing in my head! Just kidding, I don't even know what a sugar plum is? I don't think I dreamt at all during the ITI; these were hard, fast and deep, lights off, coma-like sleep sessions. Restorative but not restful.  I'd need to be restored because these next couple of stretches would prove to be a big test for me. I thought I'd had it tough so far? I'd seen NOTHING yet!