February, I flew out and checked into the
B and B where friend and fellow foot racer Andy Wilson had arrived the day
before. All my kit had turned up and it was a simple procedure to fit
the pole mountings to the sled. With the sled packed I was able to take
to a local trail and for the first time put theory into practice and see
if everything worked, it was a nervous moment as there would be little
time to switch to an alternative setup. It all felt fine and I hardly
felt the weight of the sled behind me, I don't know what the all up
weight was, maybe 40lb, not light by any standards but I was happy to
carry more rather than less. Although I was keen to go fast it would not
be at the expense of risk.
There are always last minute purchases during the final few days before
race start and this year was no exception. I bumped into Bob Lisey in
REI and he showed me his latest purchase, a pair of Injinji socks. The
socks looked like a pair of gloves with a seperate compartment for each
toe, they were supposed to eliminate blisters, in for a penny in for a
pound I picked up a pair and thought I'd give them a go. Other than that
my kit was the same as in 2004, Patagonia tops and bottoms and my North
Face Dark Star bag for which this was to be the last outing, ever!
So, race day arrives and once again we travel out to Knik lake. This
year it is colder and snow is falling, falling heavily and several
inches drop in the couple of hours spent readying gear and having last
minute food and drinks in the Knik bar. 2pm eventually comes and I'm
looking forward to this. As expected the bikers take off into the
distance and the foot racers slowly spread out. After several miles in I
laugh as a pair of foot racers run past me only to turn their sleds over
on a corner and I stroll by. I begin to appreciate the advantages of
travelling on foot. It is much less of a rush as you settle down to your
3 miles an hour and feel comfortable. On a bike you always feel as if
you should be moving faster and as a result frustration can build as you
can be on and off the bike all too frequently. I walk with Andy and Eric
Johnson for a while and eventually we part company and I am on my own.
The trail to Flathorn Lake is easy with tyre tracks to follow, not that
this section is hard to navigate. Darkness soon descends and I imagine
bikers getting to the first checkpoint while I'm still heading for the
Little Su river. I cross Dismal Swamp and drop down onto the Little Su
and head right up river. A simple case of walking up a few miles and
then heading up the Yentna to the checkpoint. It was going to be a good
start.
Around midnight it started to get cold, quite cold in fact and the
liquid on my cheap thermometer dropped off the bottom of the scale
indicating a probable temperature of -30c. I put my NEOs on and things
improved to the point where I was comfortable again. I had been
following tyre tracks for some time now but they started to peter out
and I began to feel a little uncomfortable, the river just seemed
narrower than I remembered from a couple of years ago but I wasn't sure
and carried on thinking that I could not have made a wrong turn on this
easy section. I walked and walked and it got colder and colder until I
saw two things, a sign that said 'Willow' and a light approaching me from
the distance. I stopped and waited, this was not right. The light
approached fast and within a few minutes a racer was next to me. It was
Steve Reifenstuhl and he said this: "The bad news is that you're going
the wrong way, the good news is that you don't have to go any further".
I was puzzled, where could I have gone wrong. It transpired that those
tyre tracks had been the tracks of a biker who had overshot the Yentna
turnoff which was hidden by an island. I had blindly followed and had
paid the price of walking many many miles in the wrong direction and now
I would have to retrace those steps. At least I could get back on route,
Steve would never be able to get back onto his record attempt. So
cursing myself I turned around and used my GPS to make sure I didn't
miss the turn again. It was late morning before I arrived at Luces
probably having walked 70 miles in 20 hours. I was tired but
glad to be there. I checked up on Andy and Eric who had not made it in,
I wondered where they could have been. They turned up shortly afterwards
and told a story of managing to get into a cabin back at Flathorn when
the temperatures had dropped. They were fresh and I decided to head off
with them after a short rest.
