I've been a bit of a biking fool lately.
I bought a Salsa Timberjack hardtail mountain bike after I finished the ITI ski race, and I've been riding it ever since it was warm enough to ride without freezing my hands.
I bought some sweet Revelate bags (Revelate Designs was created by Eric Parsons of Alaska, and it's one of the best brands for light tough bike specific gear), and went on several overnight trips and a two week long trip around Alaska. I've been working on training long days in the saddle to figure out how my gear works, and how I need to fuel for hours in the saddle. (I called it a saddle, I must be hardcore already)
I've been planning on racing the Kenai 250 since hearing about it last year, but not having a bike, and I've been seriously planning on it since getting a bike and talking to my friends Rachel H and Adrian B who both raced it last year.
In a nutshell, it's 265 miles of singletrack and highway riding on the Kenai Peninsula of Alaska. Bikepacking.com lists it as a 7 day trip. I like to think outside the box. (Like trying it without stopping or sleeping)
(The route varies in length depending on the brand of recording device and what options it's set at, my watch is a Suunto and it was at endurance mode, so less accurate.)
THE PLAN
Since I pre-rode the entire course a few weeks prior, I had a really good idea what the trails were like, and which ones were going to be difficult or challenging on low sleep or low daylight. I made a bit of an optimistic yet conservative estimate of 33 hours to finish, without factoring in fatigue or stops. It's so hard to plan stops and know how you'll react to fatigue, so I just allow some fudge room and make an optimistic goal to push for.
I brought what I figured to be about 28 hours worth of food if I ate a candy bar every half hour, or about 400 calories per hour. I rarely eat that much even on runs, but I like to have extra food in case I have issues or something takes way longer. There are places to stop for food along the way, but I didn't know if they would be open when I went through, so I brought about 25% more food than I planned to use.
For clothing and bike gear, I brought an emergency bivy bag, rain coat and rain pants, and a lightweight but warm puffy coat. All this fit in my Revelate front bag very well, and weighed less than two pounds. I also had two feed bags, a small tank bag, and a large frame bag. I wore a Salomon adv 12 running vest with 2.5L of water, some red bulls, and extra socks. I carried an extra tube, a pump, bike tool, patch kit, tire bacon, and a short length of chain.
I wore my Fjallraven pants that I bought specifically for the wilderness classic, and they work great for long bike tours. They're zip offs, which means I can have tough long pants for brush sections or cold nights, and then have sweet (a little too short) shorts for when it's warm! I've never been a fan of the chamois that most bikers wear. Maybe some day I'll use them, but I like utility and the Fjallraven's are super useful. I wore some Shimano flat shoes that have the ability to attach cleats to, but I left the inserts in and rode with flat pedals.
THE BIKE
My 2020 Salsa Timberjack is an XL frame (22") hardtail that's built for bikepacking. I ran 29" tires with a 2.4" Teravail Honcho in front, and a 2.3" Specialized Slaughter in the back. It's a bit beefier than the Teravail Ehline that I popped a couple weeks ago.
My shock was making some sad noises in the days leading up to the race, and since I couldn't get it overhauled in time, I just rode it. By the end it felt like all spring and no air! I've got a 1x12 gear setup, with a 10-51 range.
THE RACE
I rolled up to the start about an hour early, got my SPOT tracker hooked up, and talked with a couple friends I knew who were racing. Just before we all started, maybe fifteen minutes before, a van rolled up and a guy pulled a Salsa Cutthroat off the bike rack and was getting it set up to ride. I've been looking at this bike for a potential Tour Divide bike, so I went and checked it out. Jon hadn't ridden any of the race trails before, and brought a rigid gravel bike with plus tires. I think that's ballsy, and cool to ride anyways, despite most of the racers having full suspension carbon bikes.
We lined up in front of the Seaview Cafe, the start and finish, and got some last minute briefing that I couldn't really hear. The guy next to me said "are you Jacob?" I said yeah, and he said "I'm Mark M." We had talked on facebook about scouting the route a couple weeks before, and then just excitedly talked about the race on messenger beforehand. Someone said "go!" and there we were, riding through Hope, a sea of excited and somewhat unsure bikers.
Through Hope, up the paved highway, gears shifting down to deal with the first steep hill, people were joking about not knowing there were hills on this course. It's no time to burn out your legs, but it's also good to get towards the front before hitting the singletrack trail. I got up somewhere around 10th probably before hitting the trail, and had several people passing me in the first few miles. That's ok, there's many miles to go!
I was with a decent pack of five or six bikers for most of the climb up to Resurrection Pass, and then I lost them, and caught up to a bunch of them slowly climbing the last hill in a line. The guy in the back was Mark, and I was able to chat about flying and stuff before we crested the hill and they all bombed down away from me. I took a short break to have some water and food just above Devil's Pass Cabin, and started down. I was by myself for most of the descent down towards Cooper Landing, except being passed by the group of ladies which I think was Grande, Kate, and Ana near Romig Cabin. I passed a lone biker who had sliced his tire on a rock and was putting a tube in near the bottom of the trail, and shortly afterwards I came out onto the Sterling Highway.
I wiped off my rear light and got on the highway for the half mile stretch before Russian Lakes, and rode to the trailhead before eating a couple candy bars and drinking more water. A couple guys were stopped there resting, but I didn't get off my bike, I just ate and then kept riding. At the turnoff to the Russian Lakes Trail, I passed three bikers who were stopped, who I think were Connor, Mark, and Josh. I rode for about a mile before they caught me, and we stayed together most of the trail, sometimes yoyoing, commiserating about bears, and enjoying the fact that we weren't alone on possibly the sketchiest trail in the race. They got ahead of me for the last few miles of the trail, and when I popped out onto Snug Harbor Road, they were taking a break off their bikes. I said something about the fun part coming up, and I kept on riding.
Snug Harbor has a massive hill, probably about 1500' worth of elevation loss over 4 or 5 miles. Then it's some small rollers, on into Cooper Landing. I rode with John S for a little while here, he was in a low spot so I offered some encouragement and then pushed on for Wildman's Store in Cooper Landing. I caught up to Jorge M just before Wildman's, and parked my bike and went in. There were several bikers there already, and a lot of tourists. I bought some Arizona Tea, a gatorade, and some fried jalepenos and powdered donuts. Risky move, I know. I sat down for the first time in twelve hours and drank the drinks, met the guys I'd been riding with, and then suited up and headed back out before staying too long. In the store were Josh P, Mark M, Connor J, and Jorge M. Right before I headed out Cutthroat Jon showed up, and Kate and Grande were outside. I guess they took a wrong turn near the end of Russian Lakes and had to do some bushwhacking.
I headed up the Sterling Highway, checking my route to make sure I didn't miss this little road detour we had to take. Josh P passed me, and I rode with him to make sure I took the right turn. We found Mark up the road a little ways, and then rode together down the road, across the highway to the Old Sterling Highway, and for about 4 miles we were close. Josh took off ahead, and I rode with Mark for the whole old highway. It was pleasant evening weather, and we were able to talk about the crazy things we had done and how much fun this was so far. I think Mark was in a bit of pain already, because he asked how I was feeling, and when I said I felt great, he said something along the lines of @#!% you! Haha. I try to maintain a level of what I call "stupid optimism" in order to push for as long as I need to in sometimes adverse conditions. It works. Just like smiling in the middle of a long run, it tricks you into feeling better than you otherwise might.
We pulled onto the Seward Highway at Tern Lake, and settled into the uncomfortable shoulder riding with evening traffic on Friday night. I stayed with Mark for a little while, and then I tried the aero position best I could manage, and pulled away from Mark, passed Wes a little ways up, and then laid down some solid fast miles. Coming through Crown Point area it started getting rainy and cold, so I stopped and put on my pant legs, a long sleeve shirt, leather gloves, and a rain coat. I weighed my options, and decided I'd rather be a little uncomfortably warm and dry, than be wet going into a long hike in the snow and wind on Lost Lake all night. The rain came and went, and had stopped by the time I pulled into Primrose Campground. I talked to some guys who were ghosting friends on the route, and then Connor showed up, after a tough last few miles. I ate one of my magical weird tortilla treats, sat down, and just mentally prepped for what could really really suck that was coming up. I headed up to the trail, and talked to Wes and Cutthroat Jon. Wes wasn't feeling great, and was thinking about bailing. Both Jon and I gave him advice or encouragement on what we would do, and someone brought us all beers. I drank half of mine, and Wes drank the rest and another one. I headed up the trail with Jon, for what was to be a long night of high spirits. (For me at least)
We rode up the trail a little ways to the first hill, where I got off and walked. We talked to each other and basically said we were both gonna walk every hill that was steep, because we were tired and the hills are so long and rooty on this trail. We talked about running, about Montana housing prices, about ultras we've run and want to run, and about leaving the system and living life. Connor caught up after an hour or so, and we all hiked and pushed our bikes together, up to tree line, where Connor vanished up ahead while Jon and I rode into the fog. So much snow had melted since the last time I was up there, it was fantastic! So much of the trail was rideable. I turned on my headlamp, and Jon had some serious lights going on on his bike. It felt like we were riding in the Scottish Highlands. Foggy, rolling hills, super cool lakes, leftover snow, and then... then we could see the lights of Seward! At first I thought I was seeing lights of bikers riding down the ridge, but it didn't look quite right. Once I realized it was Seward, it sort of triggered a super happy feeling that we were on the downhill, that it was a beautiful night, calm, not cold, and nobody else was there to experience it except for Jon and I, and Connor up ahead somewhere.
That downhill into Seward is a freaking blast in the daylight on lots of sleep. In the dark after riding for 16 hours, in the fog, its super fun. There's a huge cliff on the right, a narrow singletrack, and a cliffside on the left. Chunky rocks are in the trail, and every hundred feet or so there's a wet log across the trail to keep it from washing out. I went down this pretty fast, passing Jon who can't ride fast on those rocks with his rigid bike. I didn't wait for him, I just went down. At some point I realized I didn't want to run into a bear, so I yelled out a series of "Hey Bear!" until I got back into an area where I could see for a while. The last part of the trail before it ends, there's a long switchback section, or a straight downhill section. When I rode it a few weeks before, a local biker told me the straight down is better, so I rode it this time. I can't believe I didn't wreck. There were huge root drops, it was steep, constant rocks and drops, and it was all I could do to hang on and stay upright. I finally came out the bottom and rolled into the parking lot, happy to be alive. Connor pulled in right after me, surprised that I was ahead of him, and Jon rolled in a few minutes later. It was about 1:30am.
We talked about the trail a bit, how surreal it was and how tough the descent was, and then headed to Seward, hoping the 24 hour Chevron was open. Just before we got there, we saw a food truck that was open! No way! We checked the hours, and then did our loop around Seward and stopped at Chevron before grabbing food at the truck. We got off the bikes, sat down, ordered food, and took a nice rest. Several other guys showed up while we were there, one was John S, and the other was Jorge. We headed towards Bear Lake Iditarod trail section, and passed Mark, Grande, Kate, and someone else on their way into Seward after riding Lost Lake. Woohoo's were exchanged, spirits were lifted a bit from seeing friends so close, and then we headed into the darkness of Bear Lake.
One of the frustrating things about Bear Lake is how unrideable most of the trail is. There are lots of roots, like, big roots, and drops, and rocks, and steep short sections. Lots of getting on and off the bike makes you wonder if you should just push it the whole way, but then you come to a rideable section for - oh wait, it's not rideable. The area also looks like Jurassic Park, with huge old trees, and I'm confident there are some big Grizzly bears in the area. We didn't even see sign, but it's just that wild. After circumnavigating the lake, the trail goes pretty much straight up for about a mile. I warned Connor and Jon about this, and we took a break at the bottom of the hill, and then started the hike. It's really steep, and slow going pushing our bikes. There's a couple really big trees across the trail that are difficult to climb over. Once you top out, the trail gets a lot better, and you can actually ride several miles, only interrupted five or six times by huge trees fallen across the trail. We came out to the highway, and saw a rider bivied just off the trail. We figured it was Josh, and I think it was.
Once I had filled up and headed to the parking lot to make sure I was all set, Connor rolled up and said he actually felt really good and would ride with me to the Crown Point trail, where he might sleep. I rode with him that way, but he fell behind and I kept on riding. I dozed off at some point, and woke up to someone honking and waving a thumbs up and cheering, I imagine they saw me nodding off. I'd been riding for about 24 hours at that point, and 150 miles I think. I planned to get to the top of the Crown Point trail, and take a nap for 10 minutes. When I got up there though, I felt pretty good, and the weather was super nice, so I rode on down the trail. I fixed something on my bike that was loose, and then I headed on into Moose Pass.
There's this super cool general store in Moose Pass that I stopped at a couple weeks before, and basically made friends with the girl who was working there, so I wanted to stop and see her and the others again. There was another racer there, a guy I hadn't seen yet, Jim J. He had been having some stomach issues, and was taking a break for a while. So I went in, talked to my friend, who said she now understood why I was biking all that way a few weeks ago. I said that it was totally paying off, they wished me good luck, and I ordered a 4-shot iced americano, and bought powdered donuts, orange juice, and some sort of pastry. I ate everything but the orange juice, pounded the americano, and hit the road in high spirits. Only two more trails!
I was nodding off again while riding the highway, but it's only a short distance to Johnson Pass trail from Moose Pass. I pulled into the parking lot, where one of the race director people sent a woohoo my way, and I started right up the trail without stopping. I started to feel the effects of that coffee that I pounded... not the effects that wake you up, though. I was beginning to wish I had stopped at the restroom at the trailhead first. I kept riding, looking for a spot to stop, but everything was so thick.... Finally I made an executive decision and just ran straight into the brush to accomplish what I needed to. It took a little while, but with 80 miles to go, I couldn't risk any awful chafing or, well, you know. I did my best and got back on the trail, with a slightly more sensitive stomach for the next hour.
Johnson Pass is a gradual climb, with some fun descents in the first few trail miles. I saw nobody, and rightly figured that the nearest person in front of me was hours ahead. I just wanted to stay ahead of whoever was behind me. I actually rode up most of the hills, and started running into oncoming bikers near the pass. I was getting really tired near the top, and I decided to stop and sleep at the pass sign. I got there, laid down my bike, set my alarm for ten minutes, and closed my eyes --- I couldn't sleep. I'd been riding continuously for 28 hours, and I couldn't sleep a wink. I decided to keep moving, and after talking to some bikers and Jim who just showed up, I headed on down the trail. Jim had said someone was just behind him, so while I knew he wasn't feeling great, there was someone else close. I didn't stop on my way down the pass, but it felt like the trail kept going for miles past where I thought it ended.
I finally got to the trailhead, which was full of cars, and Jon's wife and daughter waiting for him in their van, and people asking if I needed anything, which I couldn't accept even if I did need anything. What I needed was to finish, and I couldn't finish if I stopped all the time. I got onto the bike trail that goes to Hope cutoff, and starting cranking out some serious miles again. I got super tired, something about the smooth road riding kept doing that to me. I decided to try to sleep near the Hope Cutoff again, there's some good spots along the bike trail. I pulled off near a rafting pickup location, and sat against a tree, set an alarm for ten minutes, and this time, I actually slept a teensy bit. I know because I had a short dream. I woke up quickly though, checked the time, and it had only been about a minute since I set my alarm.
I guess I'm not gonna sleep.
The next 20 miles along the Seward Highway have several long hills, climbing up to Summit Lake, and then descend down to Tern Lake. Before Tern Lake is Devil's Pass trailhead, which is the start of the last trail section before the finish. These road miles were brutal for me. I was pretty calorie deficient for a lot of it, so I had to stop in the middle of hills, and pedal up some of the hills in 1st or 2nd gear. I knew I could ride them faster, I just had no strength or willpower to. This was about the lowest I got for the whole experience. I expected another racer to come over the hill as soon as I stopped, and I checked, a lot. But there was no one. I stopped in at Summit Lake Lodge and bought a coke and gatorade, and I drank the coke before heading out. The rest of the road from here is pretty downhill, but it really felt like it went forever. I wondered for a while if I missed the trailhead, if I zoned out and passed it, or what, but then I'd see a landmark I remembered from a couple weeks ago and know I was doing ok. Finally I got to the trailhead! I noticed how many cars were in the lot, expecting lots of downhill traffic, and then headed up the trail.
I actually didn't see many people on the trail, only two sets of two bikers. The first two were near the bottom, and they cheered me on, but I didn't have much mental strength to say much more than "Only 8 more miles of uphill!" I walked when I couldn't bike, but I biked a fair bit. The second two riders was an old friend of mine, Pepper, who didn't recognize me at first, but when she did, I couldn't even formulate a "hi, how's it going" or "how have you been?", all I could do was say something about only a few more uphill miles, and then I kept going. I'd been riding for like 34 hours, and about the only thing I could do well was stay awake and somehow still ride my bike. I walked my bike over the incessant rock gardens at the top of the pass, and finally got to the sign. The next couple miles are where I got a flat tire a couple weeks prior, and I was paranoid that I'd get a flat there again for some reason. I rode past the rock that did me in, and didn't hit it. It felt so good to be almost at the top for the last time!
I crested Resurrection Pass a few minutes later, and headed down the hill, super excited to ride this section down this time, instead of walking my bike. It was pretty rocky at first, but very quickly became a super fun smooth trail. I bombed this section pretty hard, feeling like I was going 30+ mph down insane singletrack and making split second decisions all on 35 hours of nonstop riding and no sleep. It didn't feel very wise, but I felt super confident still and strong enough to control my bike still, so I kept cranking downhill with gusto.
My shifter levers on the handlebars had been rotating when I downshifted for a while now, and it was getting really annoying anytime I had to downshift to ride up a hill, and then upshift to continue down. I had tried to fix it a couple times, but it never lasted long. I knew I didn't have the mental fortitude to actually fix whatever it was, but I stopped finally about 6 miles from the trailhead and tried. It worked! For a mile. Then it was back to annoying. I cruised along the Resurrection River section, yelling "Hey Bear!" in just about every way I could, and maybe other things, I'm not sure. It was scary. There was lots of fresh bear scat on the trail, not as many hikers as usual (like none at all, it was weird), and it was after 10pm. I kept hearing things that made me think there were bears just ahead, and several times I passed a big pile of scat and some smaller ones, which made me think there was a bear with cubs on the trail just ahead. At one point I heard something big crash through the trees just off the trail, and I stopped and yelled at the bear or moose for a minute before I didn't care and just rushed past.
There's a huge steep hill about a mile from the trailhead, and I was expecting it around every corner for like twenty minutes. The trail got better, which means I was close to the trailhead, and I passed a couple landmarks that I knew were close to the end. But still no hill. Ugh. Finally, I saw the hill! I got off my bike and pushed up the stupid steep hill that signified the last hill before Hope, ate a snack at the top, and then headed down the last mile of trail. I was so ready to be done, I did this section fast. I could see people camping along the river, I could hear people around their campfires, and I was so ready to be on that downhill road section. I crossed the bridge to the trailhead, shifted up to a high gear, and headed down the road as fast as I could. There were a couple small hills that slowed me down, and there was some pretty bad washboard that I don't remember going up, but then I started passing people on bikes headed home, and they cheered me on, and I forgot most everything else, except for I'm so freaking close!
I hit the main road and pavement, which felt amazing, and cruised down into Hope, through the neighborhood, and finally to the Seaview Bar. There was a group of people cheering me on, and I was surprised anyone stayed up to see me finish so late! It was 11:23pm, 38 hours and 21 minutes after I started at 9:00am the day before. The group asked if I was from Fairbanks, and when I said yeah, they said they were too, and I realized I recognized a bunch of them. That was super cool to finish to a home crowd! They were asking questions about the race, how I felt, and I was able to answer some, but I was pretty brain dead. One of them took a picture for me, and then they all disappeared. I got off my bike, set up my bivy for the night, and then went over to the food truck I saw when I rode into town.
I hung out with the girlfriends of Connor and Mark, and when I found out Connor was finishing soon, I decided to wait for him to finish. I wasn't tired, for some reason. I didn't stay up for Mark to finish, but I wish I had.
I slept a super restless night, waking up multiple times just feeling like I got hit by a truck. I woke up early and went to the coffee hut, eating an amazing burrito, and talking to some tourists and a couple other bikers. I watched Grande and Kate finish, and talked a bit to them about it, and then Jon was about to finish, so I stayed and cheered him on, watching him be super happy to finish. It was super cool meeting people who rode it, and sharing our experiences, usually commiserating about how bad Bear Lake was, and how cool it was to ride Lost Lake at night.
It took me about 5 hours to drive the two hours home, because I had to stop and sleep several times.
I had a great time racing the Kenai 250. I knew I could stay awake the whole time, and I knew how to fuel myself to be able to function the whole time. I just didn't know how I would do riding a bike on no sleep, having never done an overnight effort by bike before. It turns out, as long as I'm on an interesting trail, I stay awake fine! I also knew that if I could keep my stops to a minimum, and be efficient, that I could finish before people who were better riders than me. I got 9th place overall, which accomplished my goal of top ten! It's hard to make realistic goals for something you've never done before.
Since the race, I've thought a lot about what I could do to finish with a faster time. Other than being a stronger rider in the future, I don't think it'll be easy to shave much time off my result. Factors that seem to make a difference are having a lighter bike, or a full suspension bike, to absorb a lot of the roughness of trails and make it easier on the body. Several times I sacrificed eating to push through an area, which then made me bonk, and took a while to feel good again. I knew better, and did it anyways. I also moved a little slower through the night, partly because the people I was riding with, and partly because it was tough to keep a fast effort the whole time. But I wouldn't trade speed for company, because those guys got me through the night in great spirits!
What's next? I'd love to find some similar distance tough trail races. There's a couple races that are twice as long, but a little more roads, like the Highland Trail 550, and the Hope 1000 that I'd like to race. There's several good trail routes that I could do an ITT on and try to get an FKT, but I'm not sure I'm in that field yet. I plan to race the Tour Divide in 2022, riding on my Timberjack and seeing what kind of time I can get on that 2700 mile race across the country.
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