Arrowhead 135
http://icebike.org/Articles/arrowhead135-2005.htm
A
Human Powered Race Through Northern Minnesota in
February
By
Bill Shand
“Hello, this is Richard Chin. I'm
calling from…” ” Oh great, another telephone
survey. It was Saturday morning and I was
packing for an adventure. A telephone survey was
not going to happen. I was about to hang up when
he said “…ththe Pioneer Free Press in St Paul.
I'm a reporter covering the Arrowhead 135.” OK,
this is interesting. I talked for about a half
an hour, mostly about why I would enter such an
event and what equipment I would be using. I
hung up and continued with my packing. It's
pretty rare that I get called by a reporter. I
was a little flattered I guess. Pierre must have
given him my number.
I have known Pierre Ostor since
we did the Iditasport 100 together in Alaska.
The following year he talked me into doing the
Iditasport Extreme, a 350 mile winter race in
Alaska. Now, here I was answering another email
from Pierre. This time, he was the race
organizer. He promised a 135 mile trail, a
finish line, and a T-shirt. How could I resist
an offer like that?
Prologue
The race course followed the
entire length of the Arrowhead State Trail from
the border town of International Falls to the
Bay View Lodge on Lake Vermillion near Tower,
Minnesota. This is a snow machine trail in the
winter. We would be using human power. This is
the first year for the race and Pierre managed
to gather twelve people who were willing to sign
up for the challenge. Only ten would actually
show up to start.
I have a passion for long
distance mountain bike racing and winter events
seem to favour my skills, likely because it is
cold where I live for most of the year.
Pierre is always willing to take
on very difficult events. He can bike or run in
both summer and winter. The guy just keeps on
going. Only seven days before this race he
completed the Susitna 100 on foot in Alaska. Now
he was here to do this race on a bike. I think
that he might be crazy.
Matt Evingson is an experienced
Mountain Bike Racer who wanted to take on a
winter challenge.
Richard and Laurie Woodbury have
done lots of long distance mountain bike races.
They always travel together. This would be their
first winter event.
Ron Kadera owns a bike shop in
Minnesota. He wanted to take his long distance
achievements to a higher level. He would be
attempting the event on skis.
Michael Foster is a Major in the
US Military. He lives in Georgia and just
returned from Iraq. He had some leave to take
and found this event on the internet. He has
never done a winter event or even experienced
winter conditions. I think that he might be
crazy too. He would be on a bike.
Brian Robinson is a very
experienced ultra distance runner from
California who was also looking for a winter
challenge. He would be attempting the event on
foot.
Brian Block is from Iowa. He has
experience with winter conditions having done a
fair bit of high altitude mountain climbing. He
would attempt this event on a bike.
Finally, Josh Peterson is an
experienced mountain bike racer who has never
done a winter event. He has been out of the
racing scene for a while and wanted to try a
long distance event.
We met at the Chocolate Moose
Factory restaurant in International Falls to go
over some race details and to generally get to
know each other before the race. It was such a
great atmosphere. We were a small group of
people who all knew each other by first name at
the end of the meeting. We also had a two person
snow machine volunteer group who would pick
anyone up who decided to scratch. They also
joined in our meeting. It was good to know who
our snow machine friends were out on the trail.
I had a restless sleep at the
hotel that night. Nervous anticipation about the
challenge that lies ahead was keeping sleep
away. I did eventually get to sleep but it was
restless. There is something about an unknown
trail and a race that has never been done before
that really makes me question my decision to do
this. I was getting cold feet.
I forced those thoughts out of my
mind and focused on my morning routine: coffee,
cereal, get dressed, more coffee, a final quick
equipment check, and off to the start line.
Day 1 - Feb 28, 2005
We did the pre-race photos and
then took off at 7:00am. The trail out of
International Falls was hard and fast. It was
cool (+9F) but not too cold and the wind was at
our back. It was such a great way to start the
race. After about a half an hour of riding with
Brian Block and Josh, I pulled into the lead and
started to put some distance between myself and
the rest of the field. I was keeping a close eye
on my heart rate, being careful not to let it go
too high. The area was flat so it was pretty
easy to ride at a constant rate.
This continued for a few hours
when a rider caught up to me. It was Matt
Evingson. He had missed the start by a few
minutes so it had taken him a while to catch up
to me. We rode together for a couple of minutes
but I soon realized that I would not be able to
keep up with him. My heart rate was screaming
into the high 160's just trying to ride behind
him. I let him go. For me to try to ride that
pace would be really bad after a few hours.
If Matt could ride at that pace
for the entire race then he would easily win.
The sun was out and it was
getting really warm. Not enough to melt the snow
but it was enough to cause me to start to
overheat. Too much sweating would not be good at
all. For one thing, I had a limited water supply
and I was depending on it to last me until the
first refill point. The second issue is that I
know that it is going to get cold at night. If
I'm soaked with sweat when the cold comes, it is
going to be a big problem.
I kept going until mile 40 where
the trail pops out near the main highway and
comes within sight of a gas station. This is our
first refill point. I didn't want to waste any
time so I got right to work. The first order of
business was a refill of water for my Camelbac.
I had been conserving water until now because I
wasn't really sure how long it was going to take
me to get to this gas station. It was pretty
nice to know that I could drink all that I
wanted to now. I bought a Gatorade, a Coke, and
a Coffee Crisp bar. The Coke and Gatorade were
gone before the cashier had a chance to ring
them into the till. I put the Coffee Crisp in my
pocket and decided that it would be a little
reward for myself when I made it to the first
checkpoint, 45 miles away.
I headed out with renewed energy.
Pierre was pulling into the gas station at about
the time that I was pulling out. We didn't talk
long. A quick “How are you doing?” and “Have a
nice day.” Neither of us wanted to lose time
with idle chitchat. There would be lots of time
for that at the finish line.
A short distance up the trail I
met John Evingson coming back down the trail.
John is Matt's brother. He drove his van to
where the trail intersects the road and then
rode his bike with Matt for a little while. I
saw the extra bike tracks but until now I
couldn't figure out where the extra tracks came
from. For a while I thought that someone might
have passed me without me noticing. Now I knew.
John told me that Matt was about a half hour
ahead of me.
Seeing tracks ahead is very
comforting. While it is nice to be in the lead
of the race, it is also nice to know that you
are on the right trail. There was very little
snow machine traffic so I could follow Matt's
tracks without difficulty.
The flat terrain turned into
rolling hills as the afternoon moved along. I
heard that this would happen and for me it was
nice to use a few different muscles. You can
make good time riding on flat terrain but riding
in one position for hours on end can really make
everything pretty stiff. I was glad to see the
change.
Now I saw something that I had
not seen before, footprints in the snow. The
footprints were beside Matt's bike tracks and
that could mean only one thing, Matt was
walking. Each time the trail turned to an
incline, the footprints appeared. Matt was
walking all of the uphill sections and I was
still riding with no problem. I had to be
catching him. This perked me up a bit. It is
always nice to know that you are riding in
places that others have had to walk.
At around 3:00pm my body reached
steady state. This often happens to me in long
races and today was no exception. I was no
longer getting more sore or more tired. Parts
that were sore or tired were still sore and
tired but they were not getting any worse. This
is one of my favourite parts of a race. Up until
then, every part of my body is constantly
changing. It is a steady revolt against what I
am trying to make it do. For some reason, at
eight hours, my body adapts to what is
happening. I know that I can now keep going for
quite a long time before a second revolt occurs.
I think that this is what people
describe as being “in the zone”. Everything just
feels right. My heart rate has settled into a
constant range, barely changing, uphill or down.
The trail, the bike, and me were no longer three
separate entities working against each other. We
were one, working together, flowing together.
At one point the trail pointed
up, I geared down and started the climb. My
glasses fogged over so I just closed my eyes and
let the trail and bike guide me. I arrived at
the top of the climb, perfectly on track. It was
a bit of an out of body experience.
The rolling hills continued to
become steeper and steeper. Sometimes I had to
get off and walk but it was not often and not
for long. At around 5:00pm, I came flying down a
hill and geared down to start climbing the next.
When I started pedaling, a loud “snap” came from
my back wheel. All pedal resistance disappeared
and the bike coasted to a quick stop.
My race was over.
Epilogue
I simply could not believe what
was happening. Everything was going so well. I
inspected the drive train and found the free hub
was no longer engaging. This is an internal
problem with the hub. There was no way that I
know of to predict that this part was about to
fail. Yet, there it was, no longer functioning.
“Maybe it is just frozen”, I
thought. I have seen that happen before when it
gets colder than -20F outside and the grease
inside the hub becomes too thick. I checked my
thermometer, it was +15F. It was very unlikely
that my hub was frozen.
I have seen a free hub fail like
this only one other time in all of my years of
biking. I've been riding a bike for 31 years. On
that occasion, we were on a group mountain bike
training ride. My friend Dave geared down to
climb a hill, a loud “snap” came from his rear
hub, and he coasted to a quick stop. His ride
for the day was over. I still remember watching
him push his bike back toward town as the rest
of us continued on. Now I was the one doing the
pushing.
I started walking down the trail.
To say that I was frustrated would be the
understatement of the year. Everything was going
by so slowly. Three miles per hour was the best
pace that I could do. I had not seen a snow
machine or another racer for hours. It was
getting dark. There would not likely be another
snow machine tonight. This would be a long walk.
I knew that Pierre was coming
somewhere behind me. Maybe I was missing
something. Maybe there was an easy solution to
this problem. If there was a solution, Pierre
would know it. I looked forward to him catching
me.
After about an hour of walking, I
looked back and saw Pierre. “What's going on?”
he asked.
“My bike is #@$%ed”, I answered.
I showed him the problem.
“There's not much that you can do
about that,” was his only comment. We discussed
what to do next. I would have to walk to the
next lodge. Once there, I would phone Pierre's
wife, Cheryl. She is a race official. If I was
lucky, someone behind us has dropped out of the
race and there would be a wheel sitting at the
checkpoint. Since there was no way to bring a
wheel to me, I would likely have to walk to the
checkpoint.
There were a lot of “ifs” in our
conversation. Pierre left. One thing was for
certain; I had to keep walking. I removed the
Coffee Crisp bar from my pocket and ate it.
There would be no checkpoint reward.
I maintained my three mile per
hour pace and started doing some math to figure
out what I was up against here. Several hours
prior to my breakdown, I saw a sign for a lodge
called Mel George's. I calculated that I would
arrive at that lodge when my odometer reached
mile 75. I was currently at mile 61 and I had
already walked about three miles. So I had to
walk a total of 17 miles to get to the next
building. At three miles per hour, I had at
least 4.5 more hours of walking ahead of me.
The sun went down and the
temperature plunged. I put on all of my extra
clothes and just kept plodding along. More math.
After Mel George's, the next checkpoint was
another 17 miles away. If I had to walk, that
meant another 5.5 hours of walking. I really
wasn't up for that. If I was certain that there
was another wheel available then I would do it.
Otherwise, I decided that I was out of the race.
That was a pretty tough
realization for me. I've been racing bikes for
12 years and have never dropped out of a race in
all that time. DNF has never been written beside
my name. It would be today. I felt like throwing
my bike in the woods and leaving it there to
rot. The trail, my bike and me were no longer
one. We were three separate items fighting
against each other every step of the way.
I decided that it was only my
reaction to this situation that would dictate
how I remember this experience. I refused to be
a victim. I had a mechanical breakdown, nothing
more and nothing less. I have seen many people
breakdown and drop out of races over the years.
It happens all the time. Today it happened to
me. End of story.
The stars were amazing that
night. I normally would not be able to really
look up at the stars while riding. OK, maybe
there was one advantage to being on foot.
At around 8:30pm I reached a sign
that said “Mel George's - 6 miles”. That meant
two more hours of walking. My feet were
beginning to complain. My winter biking boots
are really made for biking, not walking. That
said, I walked 160 miles in them during the
Iditasport Extreme. On that occasion, I had
multiple blisters on both feet and thought that
I may have permanently damaged them. I did not
want to go through that again. That memory only
reinforced my decision to not walk past Mel
George's.
At 10:30pm, Mel George's did
finally appear. It was a sight for sore eyes.
Pierre was there several hours earlier and had
let them know that I was broken down and that I
was planning to walk there. They stayed open
well after their normal closing time to wait for
me.
There was no rush now like at the
gas station earlier in the day. I brought my
bike in to thaw and the bartender made me a
sandwich. They were the greatest people. After a
short time, another employee wanted to see if it
was possible to repair the bike. I didn't get
his name so I now call him Mel George Guy (MGG).
He got his propane torch and we gently heated
the free hub, still clinging to the idea that it
might be frozen. We had absolutely no success.
So that was it, my last hope to
repair the bike was dashed. I decided to call
Cheryl and let her know that I was out of the
race unless she had a spare wheel in her back
pocket. I tried all of the numbers on my phone
list given out at the pre-race meeting but there
was no answer at any of them. So I was stuck. We
waited half an hour and tried the numbers again.
Still no answer. The lodge had rooms so I said
good night to the staff and went to one of the
rooms.
Once in my room I had a shower
and ate a bit more food. I took out my cell
phone to let my wife, Joanne, know that I was
out of the race. I opened the phone and found
that there was actually enough signal strength
to make a call. I started dialling and realized
that up until now I had not actually announced
to anyone that I was out of the race. I
remembered a motivational speech that I attended
several years ago by three time Iditarod Dog
Sled Race champion Martin Buser. In his speech
he talked about his formula that allows him to
never drop out of a race. One element of that
formula was to always wait until morning before
dropping out. I remember his words like I heard
them yesterday, “Things have a way of changing
when the sun comes up.” I hung up my cell phone
and turned on the TV. The movie “Kill Bill” was
on. I turned it off and went to bed.
Morning came, the sun came up,
but nothing changed. I turned on CNN and sat by
the window of my room looking out at another
beautiful day. A biker walked through the
parking lot and up the trail. Now I was really
feeling sorry for myself. I was certain that
everyone passed me during the night. Even though
I was out of the race, it still hurt to get
passed.
I heard some noise outside my
door and looked out to see what was happening.
It was Ron Kadera, the bike shop owner from
Minneapolis. He arrived at 2:00am, found a room,
and stayed the night. I told him about my
problem. Once again I was clinging to the hope
that there was something that I did not think of
and the hub could be easily repaired. I showed
him the problem. “There's not much that you can
do about that,” he said. The statement sounded
familiar.
Ron left and I sat in the
restaurant with MGG. After about our third cup
of coffee he suggested that we call my list of
phone numbers again. Maybe someone would be
there now.
“Hello, this is Richard Chin”.
The voice sounded familiar but there was no one
named Richard on the race committee. “I'm a
reporter from the Pioneer Press in St Paul. I
spoke to you on Saturday”. Now I knew who
Richard was. I told him about my bike problem,
told him that I was stuck here and asked him if
he minded picking me up. He said that he did not
mind, he wanted to do an interview anyway. “By
the way, I brought my bike with me, you can use
the back wheel if you like.” Boy, am I glad that
I didn't hang up on him last Saturday.
Day 2
I'm back in the race! Richard
arrived about 20 minutes later and after a few
minor adjustments, I had his wheel working
perfectly on my bike. I gathered all my stuff
and hit trail by 10:30am. I couldn't believe my
luck. Fuelled by coffee and cereal from Mel
George's I rode hard. I hoped to catch at least
a few of the people who passed me during the
night.
The day was sunny with a slight
tail wind. It couldn't have been more perfect.
The trail was hard packed and after a cool
evening the night before, conditions were fast.
I rode the 17 miles to the checkpoint non-stop
and arrived there in just under two hours.
Myrtle Lake was the only official
checkpoint of the race. There was a cabin with
some food and our re-supply bags. I re-stocked
my bike with food, re-filled my Camelbac with
water and sat down at the table to have a bowl
of stew. Ron and Michael Foster had both just
arrived at the checkpoint. Michael was the biker
that I saw walking through the parking lot at
Mel George's earlier that morning. He told his
story of the previous day. He got tired of
biking at some point so he walked almost
non-stop all night. This guy is from Georgia and
the temperature dropped to -17F that night.
Michael said that he was never so cold in all
his life!
I looked at the sign in/out sheet
and quickly noticed that only Pierre and Matt
had been through the checkpoint. How could that
be? I walked for 5.5 hours the day before and
then sat at Mel George's for 12 hours waiting
for a wheel. I figured that my total delay time
due to my wheel problem was over 15 hours. In
all that time, none of the others caught up? I
didn't argue. I finished my meal and left the
checkpoint in third place. Only Pierre and Matt
were ahead of me.
The trail after Myrtle Lake was
described on the web site as “rolling hills”.
Well, they rolled all right. They rolled
straight up and straight down. I am amazed the
snow machines don't have trouble climbing these
hills. It was a steady routine of coasting down
a hill and walking up the next. There was very
little pedalling required. This continued for
about three hours and then the hills abruptly
came to an end. It was like they were just
switched off and the trail was suddenly flat
again.
I focused on pure speed now.
Constantly looking for the best section of
trail. It was 50 miles from Myrtle Lake to the
finish line. I knew that I could do this in one
shot. No stops would be required for food or
water.
I felt even better on this day
than I did the day before. I was back in the
“zone” and it was great. The ride was now very
flat. No hills at all. Darkness arrived but
nothing changed for me. I was able to maintain
the same speed as in daylight. I eventually came
to a sign that said “Bay View Lodge - 2 miles”
and an arrow pointing down a new trail. Bay View
Lodge is the finish line. I was almost there.
Another fork in the trail showed
“Bay View Lake Access in one direction and
“Highway 77” in the other direction. Neither
sign said Bay View Lodge so I looked for
Pierre's bike tracks. I found them heading in
the direction of Highway 77. I followed.
After what seemed like forever I
popped out at Highway 77. The trail went
parallel to the highway. This was wrong. The
trail was supposed to cross the highway. I
looked again for Pierre's tracks and now I could
not find them.
I saw some lights on at a house
down the highway so I went there to ask for
directions. I hate backtracking if there is any
way to avoid it. The guy who answered the door
said that I was less than a mile away and showed
me which way to go. I rode up Highway 77 in the
dark. There was no traffic thank goodness.
A sign appeared, “Bay View Lodge
- ½ mile”.
My legs started to shake. Not
because I was cold but because I realized that I
was actually going to finish this thing.
I rolled into the lodge and heard
the familiar voice of Cheryl and Pierre yelling
to me. It was over. I finished the race in third
place. Total time - 37 hrs and 13 minutes.
Epilogue #2
Pierre arrived four hours before
me and Matt finished four hours before him. Matt
had to go back to Minneapolis right away so he
was already gone by the time that I got there. I
never got the chance to congratulate him.
I had a shower and went into the
restaurant at the lodge to order a meal. Here I
discovered almost everyone else who was entered
in the race. So now I understood why people did
not pass me during my night at Mel George's.
They were all having problems of their own.
The Woodbury's dropped out at the
gas station on the first day. I'm not too sure
why. They picked up their bags and were already
gone.
Brian Robinson dropped out at the
checkpoint due to frostbite on his hands. He
showed me his blisters on all ten fingers. At
least he still had all ten fingers. It could
have been much worse.
Brian Block had problems with his
rear derailleur from the very beginning of the
race. He eventually dropped out because of it.
Josh Peterson dropped out at the
checkpoint due to exhaustion.
Ron and Michael were still on the
trail.
I ordered my meal and the
bartender told me the kitchen was closed. I
guess that she must have seen my face drop. She
said that she would see what she could do. A few
minutes later a full steak dinner arrived. The
people around here are so nice!
At 1:49am Ron opened the door to
the cabin and the cold air woke me immediately.
I congratulated him and told him to shut the
door! He was skiing for the last few hours in
his full down parka. It was really cold out
there. We all worried a bit about Michael from
Georgia. I figured that if he could survive
Iraq, Minnesota should be a piece of cake.
Pierre and I got up at 6:00am and
had some coffee. As soon as the sun came up
Pierre woke John and Rao, our two person snow
machine volunteer group. He asked them to go
looking for Michael. It was -19F.
About three hours later the snow
machines returned. Michael was ten miles away
and doing fine. He had a flat front tire and was
pushing his bike but otherwise in great shape!
This was exactly the news that we wanted to
hear. Brian Block took the front wheel from my
bike, strapped it to Pierre's bike and set out
to ride the rest of the race in to the Finish
with Michael.
A few hours later they arrived at
the finish. Once again, Michael had walked all
night. It turned out that Michael's pump was
frozen. Once he warmed it up he was able to pump
up his tire and ride again. He never used my
wheel.
This race was certainly more than
I signed up for. For one thing, I actually
travelled 140 miles according to my odometer
even though the race was only 135. The detour to
the gas station, the detour across Myrtle Lake
and the finish line problem all added up to five
extra miles. I expected to finish in under a
day. I almost didn't finish at all. I expected
heavy snow machine traffic and I was prepared
for all of the verbal abuse they would throw my
way. There was actually almost no snow machine
traffic. Those that I did meet always slowed
down and waved.
The point to point aspect of this
race is the most appealing part for me. You
never know what lies around the next corner. It
was a completely unknown trail.
I came looking for an adventure.
I certainly found one. |
