ITI 2013. Time to be done.

Now as I think back a couple weeks to write these reports, my memories seem to focus mainly towards people and food.  Maybe that's my bare bones of being, social interaction and fuel.  At the Petruskas, Brian and Pete were just getting ready to leave.  Brian had passed me in the night during my refreshing slumber at Bear Creek shelter, Pete after storming thru Rohn had later been slowed by a bivy and some knee issues.  After being alone for so much the last couple days, it was good to see them and briefly talk to them.  When they left, I bent Stephanie's ear, although she seemed a little more interested in her TV show than talking to some sweaty guy from MN sitting in her house.  She did have a mammoth plate of lasagna waiting for me, which shut me up for awhile.  I made two sandwiches of cheap white bread laced thick with butter.  I ate 4 cookies, then a huge piece of chocolate cake.  And finally a couple Cokes.  I never drink pop in my 'regular life', but think I could survive on the stuff during long races.  Having no caffeine since Finger Lake Lodge, it tasted so good, even if they were a little on the warm side.  After finishing my feast, I put 2 more cans of Coke in the freezer, sat down on a much too comfortable couch, and set the timer on my watch for 15 minutes, hoping to catch a little snooze.  But the 'Fugitive' story on the TV, the Cokes kicking in, and the little dog jumping up on me prevented any Z's.  Plus, I was burning daylight, McGrath wasn't getting any closer sitting on that couch.  There were still 7 minutes left on my timer.  I made two more sandwiches with enough butter to cause a heart attack, grabbed my Cokes, and was off.  Back on the Kuskokwim, things were great; sunny, warm, a tailwind, rested and fed, the last 50 miles of the race.

Forty-five minutes in I caught up to Pete, nursing the sore knees.

About an hour later I caught up to Brian, in need of some sleep, having pushed from Puntilla to Nikolai.  It was so warm out I was down to my biking jersey, no hat, no gloves, alternating between sitting and standing, averaging over 10 mph the first few hours.

At precisely 4:19, the wind did change necessitating normal Winter clothing again, but it was still quite pleasant and the trail fast.  As the sun was just starting to set, I could make out the towers of McGrath, and a small homemade sign announced 10 miles to the Finish.

I stopped to eat my last sandwich and Coke, after consuming the others 15 miles ago.  I looked back across the frozen swamp and noted a light, I thought I heard the sound of a snow machine, but as I sat there the minutes it took me to down my food/drink, the light wasn't getting much closer, as it should if it was motorized.  Was it another racer?  I finished a little more hastily, and rode towards McGrath, now pushing a little harder, a little faster, harder and faster than I really wanted to be going after 300 miles, but there was still a little bit of a racer mentality left.  When I popped out on the Road, I glanced back and didn't see any light, but the trail curved around some brush.  The road was hard and fast, with many corners.  Around the first corner, I glanced back, and there it was again, a light.  Again I pushed, minutes later a snow machine passed me, and I slightly relaxed.  The last last few miles to the Finish continued the same, a light, push hard, car or snow machine passing, relax a little, essentially time trialling the last 10 miles of the 350 mile race.  I thought I missed the Finish, not having seen any bike tracks for a long time, and seemingly going much farther than the mile since the 1-mile sign, but then suddenly, there it was, the Finish Line Banner,  a recognizable house, Fatbikes parked outside.  What a feeling!

Bill Merchant met me with a big handshake on the deck, although I was really looking forward to that Bear Hug from Peter.  Inside was bliss; a hot shower, dry clothes, a beer, and mounds upon mounds of food, essentially for the next day and a half, until the flight back to Anchorage.  Amazing hospitality! Peter and Tracy opening up their house to all of us, wet clothes hanging everywhere, sleeping bags and people lying all over, they were slaving away in the kitchen making food, cleaning up, next round, around the clock as more racers finished.  Sitting there, physically and mentally spent, the deep satisfaction of finishing, surrounded by amazing athletes and generous volunteers, you realize that you truly are part of something special, and after days and miles of pushing and moving, you now want everything to slow down or even stop, you just want to hold that exact feeling as long as you can.

ITI-90 miles to Nikolai!

I left Rohn, belly full but still quite tired, sun beaming, probably 30 degrees, beautiful trail thru some conifers, then popping out into an open river valley.  Noticably less snow after Rainy Pass, with swamp and river crossings glaring with ice. 

The trail headed into the rolling hills of the Farewell Burn area, some fun downhills with some uphill pushing, some with bare dirt. 

About 4pm I found a warm sunny area at the top of a hill, and about 10 yards off the trail, put my down coat on, sat down in the dirt, and slept against a tree.  I awoke abruptly 40 minutes later, Curiak and his crew stopped on the trail, looking at me.  I don't know if it was that suddenly I was cold, my internal alarm clock going off, or that sixth sense that someone is staring at you that woke me.  I packed my bike back up, had a snack, and ran down the trail with my bike to warm back up, which took about 15 minutes.  About an hour later I caught up to the trio stopped in the middle of the trail making dinner, I stopped and we had formal introductions.  When I introduced myself, Mike said, "Buffington, I think I've heard of you from the Arrowhead", inside I beamed, wow, Curiak knows MY name.  I've followed Mike's Web Site for years, jealous but inspired by his adventures and talents.  I continued down the trail, but not too long after, Mike, Scott and Brian went blaring by me at warp speed.  It reminded me of being 12 hours into a 24 hour mtn bike race, thinking you are still going along pretty fast, then the 6 hour racers come flying by.  The trail turned into a never ending straight line swamp traverse with a few small hills. 

As the day wore on and finally out, I wore out too, hitting my lowest point of the race, the totality of sleep deprivation, lack of food and hydration, and energy expenditure taking it's toll.  Physically and mentally I was gone.  I was intent on making it to the Bear Creek Shelter to be able to sleep and eat in warmth and safety, but it was still miles away.  New and shiny mileage signs had just been put up that day for the cabin, reminding me of how slow I was going and how much longer I had to go.  The Monkey Mind took over, what was I doing out here, why did I sign up for the race, I decided my race was over, now it was just a tour for me to the Finish, and I was deciding how I would get out of my free entry for ITI 2014.  Many hallucinations, visual and auditory,  I fought for every mile.  I perfected sleep walking, which was a lot easier than sleep riding, I could push my bike at 1-2 mph with eyes closed for 3-5 seconds and still continue straight.  I forced myself to ride the last 5 miles to the Shelter.  A mile out I ran into Scott, setting up his bivy next to some small pines.  It was about 1am, temps probably -10 or colder, with a stiff wind.  He stated the cabin was pretty full with Mike, Brian and the 2-man crew putting up the new trail signs for the Iditarod sled dog race the following week.  Plus he just wanted to bivy outside.  I admired his ruggedness and spirit, but had no thoughts about joining him, my mind was set on sleeping inside, even though it meant biking an extra mile each way off the trail, and even if I had to sleep standing up in a corner of a full cabin.  Finally I made it to the Shelter sign, rode the full mile to the cabin, wondering the whole time why the shelter has to be a mile off the trail, and was elated by the smell of wood smoke and the sight of a good size cabin.  It was 1:30 AM.  I sat on the front porch unlacing my boots, pulling out my bag and pad, and eating some frozen meat nuggets, not wanting to disturb the guys inside at this hour.  I struggled with the door handle, then was welcomed by a blast of warm air and an open floor just inside.  I hung my clothes by the stove and threw down my pad and bag.  There were at least three different people snoring and an AM radio on just loud enough that it was annoying as the reception faded in and out.  I wondered if I would get any sleep at all, but soon passed out on top of my bag.  At 3 am I woke up.  I was cold.  I looked around to figure out where I was, who I was.  At my feet the door to the cabin was wide open, the light of the full moon illuminating a person standing in the doorway.  After what seemed like minutes, finally realizing the whole scene was real, I sat up saying "What are you doing man?"  "Trying to cool this place down, it's 110 degrees in the top bunk!",  it was Curiak.  I crawled inside my bag and was dead again.  The next thing I heard was the radio, "it's 6:41 AM".  I had slept for almost 5 hours!  The cabin was still dark and quiet, except the AM radio, I packed up quickly to go.  Before departure I had to urgently use the outhouse.  I scrambled out and noticed Curiak must not have been able to sleep in the top bunk, he was bivy'd in the snow in his bag.  In my haste, I forgot to bring my TP, and now noted there was none to be found inside the outhouse.  I opened the door, thoughts of calling out, "Hey Mike, do you think you could bring me some toilet paper?", but after a little thought, decided we were not quite on those terms yet.

Back on trail I was a new man after finally some real sleep.  I ate and drank a bunch, refilling my Camelbak from Sullivan Creek, and biked on towards Nikolai. 

My GPS, turned on 25 miles before the cabin, showed I average only 4.3 mph to the cabin, from the cabin to Nikolai, 6.3 mph.  No sleep walking. 

I finally navigated my way up off the river along Dump Road, past the dump with it's Raven/Crow population, down Main Street Nikolai, the school, the Airport, and pulled up to the welcoming Alaska Ultrasport banner at the Petruskas.

ITI 2013- Puntilla Onward

Puntilla to Rohn

Noise!  I was startled from dead at 4 am to a cabin full of people.  The 2+ hours of sleep felt like 2 minutes, my mind still in a fog.  It took me awhile to comprehend the whole situation.  Phil was just heading out the door, having come, slept, and resuited while I was in my stupor . Hartman was just coming in and throwing down on a bunk.  Pete Basinger was asleep on a bed, in full gear.  Ezster was eating chicken chili, again, the most coherent of the bunch.  I debated my options.  My body told me I needed more sleep.  The brain told me it was time to go, echoing Katie Merchant's advice about getting to the Rainy Pass at sunup.  It took forever to get going.  I went through the cans on the stove but couldn't find another CN.  I went to fill my empty Camelbak for the next stretch, but both of the cold water reservoirs were dry.  I left the cabin and wandered around the Lodge looking for another option, but all the cabins were dark and I didn't think it appropriate to go knocking at 4:30am.  So I used the remaining 20 or so ounces of hot water from the cabin, added someone's abandoned glass of Tang, and filled the rest with snow. 

For the next 2 hours I followed the other tracks, and intermittently Phil's headlight way off in the distance, towards the entrance of Rainy Pass, entering just at sunup. 

I startled a Ptarmigan from it's perch in some trailside alders, then noted dozens of other white plumps still roosting.  The sun came up illuminating an amazing landscape of surrounding snowy mountains.  Some pushing, but a lot of riding.  Over the top of the Pass I caught up to Mike Curiak, Brian Blair and Scott Morris, who were touring, 'Exploring' per Curiak, having departed a couple days prior to the Race start,  also heading towards McGrath, and for Curiak, beyond.  They had been sleeping well, and longer, and when compared to me, had the energy of toddlers, smiling, running around taking pictures, riding fast.  From there we entered the Gorge crossing Dazell Creek many times, hard packed, fun and fast, mostly downhill now.  Closer to the Rohn the trail rolled for miles thru patches of alders, and I learned the bane of the moose.  Their tracks were everywhere, 12  inch wide and feet deep holes scattering the trail, that in my weary state were difficult to negotiate.  You'd think a fat bike tire would just roll right over them, but no, I'd hit one at speed, get bucked off the trail, dab my foot expecting to keep from falling over, my foot and entire leg swallowed up by the soft and deep snow.  Over and over, swimming out from under my bike again.  I cursed the moose, hoping they all get brainworm.  Finally the Airstrip and not much longer, the tent camp.

I was looking forward to some hot food then climbing in the sleeping tent for another much needed slumber before tackling the daunting 90 mile section to Nickolai.  It was shortly after 1PM, happy time in Rohn.  Phil was still there, eating and shuffling thru his drop bag.  Billy Koitzsch was there, eating, hanging out, and icing a sore hamstring.  Billy was in the middle of a 60 day Fatbike vacation, touring the Iron dog route from Anchorage to Fairbanks, the long way.  I don't know if I could burn all my vacation that way, hats off to Billy.  The volunteers were all super friendly, talkative and very awake.  Great fun, but not a great atmosphere for my anticipated slumber, and only one tent, not two.  So instead I just consumed.  A bowl of chicken noodle soup with extra Chicken Chunks someone had discarded from their drop bag, and from my own drop bag, bowls of Chicken Teryaki noodles, Creamy Chicken Noodles, and 3 packets of oatmeal.  If only I had a couple cans of Coke or a big Coffee.  As I was going thru the rest of my drop bag, discarding pretty much anything with chocolate, peanut butter, or sugar, Pete came thru, grabbed a bowl of soup, and was gone.  At that pace I thought he was riding to catch the leaders and would.  I left Rohn about 2:15pm, not expecting to be catching any leaders, just hoping to get up the trail and find a nice place to take a nap somewhere quiet before the sun and warmth of the day was wasted.

ITI 2013-Finger Lake to Puntilla

After finishing, I was looking back at the 'Latest news/updates' and it was reported that the MN rookie Buffington snuck out of Finger Lake in the lead.  Funny how stories can be generated and perpetuated from just a single check out time.  In reality, I was the first out of Finger Lake, but the exact words out of my mouth upon leaving were, "Well, I better get my head start as you guys will pass me in a few minutes".

Which of course is what happened.  One by one the others easily rode past me thru the soft fluff, described as 'bomber' trail per Jeff, but from MN standards, challenging.

At least the trail got more rideable as each one passed me, I didn't feel too badly about letting them break trail, it wasn't like I was going to rest up for the final attack at the Finish Line.  Added to the difficulty of the trail, I was getting tired.  I should have rested/slept at at least one of the last checkpoints, but I had my mind set on getting to Puntilla in time to push thru Rainy Pass with the veterans.  Before leaving Finger Lake, Jeff Oatley told me this was always a long stretch, and there wasn't anywhere to bivy.  "I don't plan on bivying", was my reply, famous last words.  But at the time, the trail was great, temps pleasant, scenery spectacular, and the hours rolled by.

It was just getting dark when I got to the Happy River Steps.  I'd heard stories about the 10-15 foot vertical bank being so steep that you can barely throw your bike up a couple feet at a time and crawl on your hands and knees to reach the top.  But like the trail so far, it seemed pretty easy this year.  There was a good snow ramp going up the bank making it relatively easy to push the bike, no problem.  But I had never heard the story of the hills following the bank.  Upon reaching the top of the Step, the hill just kept going up, and up, and up.  For you Arrowheaders, vision Wakemup about 10 degrees steeper, and about 4-5 times longer.  Then after going back down, you get to go back up the other side, crossing the Happy River.  Many times.  The downhills were fun, some even scary, but after a few hours the uphills take a toll on the already tired body.  It was 8:20PM and I was cooked.  I had now been up for about 38 hours, over 30 hours of that on trail, and I needed some sleep.  For 2 hours I looked for a place to bivy, and I now understood what Jeff had said about 'no place to bivy'.  Every inch of the trail, on either side, was a pit of at least 4+ feet of soft snow.  There was not a single place to easily, or even not so easily, throw down a bag or even sit down without being swallowed in powder.  Finally at the top of a hill at 10:20pm, I found a tree close enough to the trail that I could prop my bike up against it, and sitting right in the middle of the trail, lean against my bike to get a much needed nap.  I was out cold immediately, but was zapped awake less than 10 minutes later chilled, as I was too lazy to even take out my down coat.  I turned on my GPS and found out, as the cow flies, I was 12 miles from Puntilla Lake, it was time to push thru.  There were some great rolling downhill sections that I wished I was more awake to enjoy, and after much struggle and many Hail Mary's, I reached the shores of Puntilla Lake and could see the lodge on the other side, my magnet.  I pulled up to the Racers' ramshackle log cabin at about 1am, 9 hours after leaving Finger Lake, and 43 hours now with only 5 minutes of sleep.  All the leaders' bikes were there: Petervary, Berntson, Lackey, Oatley, and Breitenbach.  Entering the cabin was like stepping into Little House on the Prairie, a precisely small cabin, wood plank floor, ceiling not much higher than my head, wood stove in the corner with tin cans of food loosely thrown on top, paper wrappers mostly torn or burnt off, cots strewn around the place.  This was Winterlake Lodge on Puntilla Lake- 'Lodging and food provided'.  I disrobed and hung my wet clothes on nails and hooks projecting from walls and ceiling beams and tried to decipher the cans on the stove, I needed sleep but even more so, I needed some hot food.  I finally found a can with initials CN that thru trial and error figured out was Chicken Noodle soup, opened it and drank it straight from the can and mixed up a glass of Tang to chase it down.  The Alaskans all stumbled out of their bunks weary eyed, summoned by Oatley who claimed he couldn't sleep, and were kitting up as I found a bed in the back quarter of the cabin, furthest from the esxcessive heat of the wood stove.  JayP still slumbered away in his bunk.  My whole corner; log walls, plank floor, lumpy mattress and pillow, moth eaten blanket, suggested I'd wake up with vermin skittering all over me, but my light switch went off and I was out cold.  So much for going thru Rainy Pass with the Veterans.

ITI 2013 - part 2

Skwentna to Finger Lake

I left the comfort of Skwentna just before 6am, following the tracks of the 7 bikers in front of me, again feeling great with some partially dry clothes and a belly full of food.  The trail cut thru a long, flat, straight swamp section for the next hour or so.  About 30 minutes along, a snow machine pulling a load behind him came by, erasing the tracks I was following, but with the cold temps, the track firmed up almost immediately giving me a foot wide firm and fast line.

Just at sunrise I entered the Shell Hills, which was probably the highlight of the race for me.  The narrow and windy track was firm making the short but steep stepped hills very rideable, lined by a few feet of pillow soft snow and sun coming up behind me.  Over the top of the climb I eventually caught up with Brian Hartman just before we dropped down to Shell Lake and the Lodge.  We saw the bikes of all the leaders save the Beargrease ridden by JayP at the Lodge, Brian decided to stop for a burger and a rest, I decided to push on as I was feeling pretty good and it had only been a couple hours since Skwentna.  Looking back, it was probably one of the worst decisions I made and a deciding factor of how my race changed the next 24 hours.  The trail condition changed pretty dramatically.  Prior to Shell Lake Lodge, there was at least some snow machine traffic packing the trail, but immediately past the Lodge, there wasn't a single snow machine trail since the last snow, Only JayP's 4.something inch tread, packing down the 4" of fluff.  I followed his trail for the next couple hours, sometimes finding a hard line and riding for stretches, but many times punching thru and post holing in calf deep snow.  About 2-3 hours in, the Alaskan contingent caught up, passed me, and move slowly onward.

A huge group of about 30 snow machines came by giving me the thumb's up, like maybe they thought they were packing the trail for the bikers, ha ha.

I was in true awe at this section of trail, with huge panoramic views of the surrounding mountains, snapping many pics, but the 9 hours of soft trail really took a toll on me, especially as the temps were climbing up to the low 30's.

I pulled up to Winter Lake Lodge at about 3pm, dripping wet, tired and hungry, moments later pleasantly surprised walking into the kitchen of the Lodge where the chefs, adorned in full white aprons and toques, were serving up huge plates of beans, rice, salsa, tortillas, bread and muffins, coffee and Cokes.  Not only that, but the whole contingent of leaders were still eating.

We lazily finished our lunches and went thru our first drop bags, loading up for the next section of trail. 

ITI 2013-part 1

Pregame

The day had arrived, Thursday, travel day, and excitement had replaced worries.  A last minute brainstorm had me taking an airport shuttle from Duluth to MPLS, and since they were only 1/2 full, my oversized bike box could be accommodated.  I pictured a minibus, when a battered excursion van pulled up, I was a little worried about the fit.  It didn't take long to realize with any amount of grease and pushing the box was too big to fit in the luggage area in the back of the van, but as I fretted about calling my wife to drive me the 2 1/2 hours to the Cities, the driver, Chuck, was intent on fitting a square peg into a round hole.  Soon my bike was pretty much upside down and sideways teetering over the seats next to me inside the van, the UP arrows I had drawn on the box jeeringly pointing AT me, every turn or wind buck of the van I thought I'd be crushed under my 80+lb box, never even making it to the hazards of the ITI.  Twelve hours later when we both arrived in Anchorage in one piece, I was quite surprised.

Tim Berntson had graciously offered to house me and his fellow Alaskans Kevin Breitenbach and Jeff Oatley at his place in Anchorage.  When he went off to work on Friday morning, I decided to take a little walk to shake off the jet lag.  Less than a block from his place, just as I was thinking the aspen, pine and rolling hills reminded me of Duluth, I looked to my left and less than 20 feet off the sidewalk was a moose lying down in some alder out of the wind.  That and the surrounding mountains made it not quite Duluth.  I reassembled my bike and went out for a test ride on the local bike trails that are groomed all Winter for biking/x-country skiing.  Less than 15 minutes later, I was changing a flat front tire, luckily the only mishap of the long commute from MN.  As I was changing my flat, another Fatbiker with a fully loaded bike came along, Jim Barkeley, also on the ITI roster, who gave me a little tour of the surrounding trails of Kincaid Park.  I spent the rest of the afternoon eating, messing with gear, and just lounging at Tim's place looking out at the mountain views.  That evening Greg Matyas from Speedway Cycles/Fatback Bike threw a big pre race party at his bike shop with plenty of local fare including pizza, snacks, and beverages, and I got to meet and mingle with the racers and folks that were only previously known by their blogs and race results.  I was in some pretty crazy company.  Saturday morning Tim took Kevin and me back to Kincaid Park to ride some great flowing single track trails specifically built and groomed for Fatbiking.  I was almost willing to stay in Anchorage for the week and ride the local trails all day and sleep in a warm bed at night.  We spent the rest of the day and the next morning running back and forth to Speedway Cycles and REI to pick up final gear, eating, and packing.  Kevin and I were pretty panicked as we packed up our bikes, Tim seemed pretty calm, Jeff, on the other hand, after 8 or 9 previous ITIs, was getting more and more excited as he pared gear down to the very minimal.  Watching them and per their recommendations, I made some last minute changes to my gear and set up, being around these guys was like a Training Camp for me.  Another Anchorage local and ITI veteran, Brian Hartman, brought Jeff and me up to the start Sunday at Knik Lake.  I was pretty freaked out thinking of the looming 3-4 days as I sat in the back seat, even half joking I'd be happy driving Brian's truck back to Anchorage for him.

Knik Lake (start) to Yentna Station

At 2 pm Kathy Merchant set us off.  The bikers all followed Jeff Oatley thru some wooded snow machine trails until we popped out on a wider section, maybe a pipeline or power line.  The snow was a little soft and I was working pretty hard, but didn't want to stop and let air out as I knew it was just a short way to a tar road.  Once we got to the road, a large group cruised along in a pace line at a pretty good clip, I imagine to distance the long and boring road section that was made exciting only by a lot of icy patches and the speed.  Eventually the group split into two, we came to the end of the tar, and hit another long and straight stretch, this one being a pipeline covered with some pretty soft and punchy trail.  We were all over the place, each trying to find a rideable line, with some bike pushing.

 Eventually we made it to Flathorn Lake to find that was even worse, and after a not too long bike push made it back along the West shoreline where we again found a long stretch of trail that was part rideable with a lot of pushing.  It started to snow a little with a headwind as we went thru the Dismal Swamp, and we finally dropped onto the Susitna River right at headlight hour.  The group was now down to Jay Petervary, the Alaskans Oatley, Breitenbach, Berntson, Hartman, John Lackey, and Phil Hofstetter, and myself.  The trail was pretty good going up the river, albeit a little soft for a MNer used to groomed trails.  As Phil passed me and I remarked how I thought it was pretty tough going, I asked him if the conditions were normal, he simply remarked "Everything is normal", I suppose after that many ITI's, it is, a memorable quote.  I watched the others slowly pull away over the miles, leaving me alone in the dark in the wilds of Alaska.  One of my fears coming up for the ITI race was being alone and getting lost, my goal was to try to stay with the leaders as long as I could, but especially try to stay with a veteran that knew the trail.  Here I was 45-50 miles into the race and I was alone.  But as the full moon came out and the snow stopped, and I started riding my own pace, in my little cone of light, I actually started to feel comfortable.  I rode in the dark, alone, onward to Yentna Station, with a smile.  The checkpoint came up quickly, a bright beacon in the night.  Oatley, Petervary and Berntson were just heading up River as I approached, and Breitenbach and Lackey were just saddling up as I stood my bike in the snowbank outside.  Inside I was met by a blast of warm air and bright light, and bowls of chicken noodle soup, Cokes, pretzels/chips, oranges, and friendly hosts.  Phil and Brian were just finishing up as I came in and pushed out shortly, leaving me alone to take it all in.  My stomach has never been very good at eating real food during races, but it all tasted so good 9 hours into the race that I doubled up on everything, even finishing Phil's 1/2 Coke he left sitting there.

Yentna Station to Skwentna Roadhouse

I left Yentna feeling great; I had 57 miles and the first checkpoint behind me, it was 11:30pm, full moon, no wind, good trail, I had a full belly, and I was out there traveling alone along the ITI trail. What could be better. I honestly don't even remember much of this section, the 5-6 hours went by in a blink.  A full dogsled team passed me from the opposite direction, the temps did drop enough to add my balaclava, but conditions were still very tolerable.

I never saw another light or racer in front or behind me.  I mustered along looking for the Skwentna Roadhouse sign Jeff Oatley had told me 'not to follow, but keep going straight for another few miles then follow the trail into the woods that winds back and forth forever, that suddenly pops you out at Skwentna Roadhouse', which is exactly what happened.  It was 5:30AM when I popped out of the woods at Skwentna.  Brian Hartman was the only other racer still there, he wasn't feeling the best as a result of a recent illness, and had taken some time to recover from the first 90 miles.  The owners were up serving food and ready to wait on the racers.  The chicken chili sounded good, but I was a little afraid my stomach would revolt at the early hour, so I had some coffee, fruit, caramel rolls, Cokes, and finished off a couple bagel sandwiches I had been carrying from the start.  I pretty much undressed down to my chamois and hung all my wet and frosty clothes on the moose antlers above the wood stove to dry out and hoped to get a little rest, but the frisky young golden lab didn't want me sleeping, but wanted to play instead.  By this time the Cokes had kicked in and I wasn't feeling too tired anymore, it was time to get back on trail.  Eszter Horanyi was the next racer to Skwentna, arriving as just as I was suiting back up, and looking very strong.  As I was walking out the door, I heard her order up some chicken chili, she was not afraid.

Today

And the day arrives!  This morning felt different.  Anxiety replaced by excitement.  Dead legs are antsy legs. 

The year has gone by quickly.  Seems yesterday I returned from the Arrowhead with the question of doing ITI and the first thing my family said was, "You're going to do Alaska, right?"  I watched with excitement last year's race.  A month later I ordered the new Fatback.  Two months later my name was officially on the roster.  Five months of Fatbike riding/training.  The last month has been sheer panic.  But today is finally here and it feels great.  Load up on the shuttle from Duluth at 1:30PM, hopefully beat the storm out of MPLS at 5:56PM, arrive Anchorage 12:36AM.  Couple days of fun with prerace party at Speedway Cycles Friday night, Prerace meeting Saturday afternoon and hanging with fellow racers, and hosted by Duluth native, now Anchorage resident, Tim Berntson.  Official start from the Knik RoadHouse 2PM Sunday, Feb 24th, Alaska time.  Updates at alaskaultrasport.com.

Cheers!