White Mountains 100 -- Part I (Introductory Ramblings)

This is ridiculous.  I’m not doing this.  As I sat shivering in the tent, waiting for the warmth of the stove to make the discomfort of being very cold go away, it was 100% clear to me that my apparent drive to put myself through hell in the name of sport needed to stop.  I looked over at the volunteer stoking the fire for me and bending backwards to try to help me in any way he could, even though the sauna like conditions must have been unpleasant for him, and felt terrible that this wonderful guy was having to expend time and energy warming some dumb girl who, evidently, lacked the sense to avoid trudging through the Fairbanks backcountry in the cold.  He was bundled in thick snow-machining garb, complete with the “bunny boots” that are ubiquitous in the Fairbanks area.  “This is really nice of you” I told him.  “It’s fun” he lied.  He heated some water and made a hot water bottle with a Nalgene for me to put in my shirt.  I started to warm up both physically and emotionally and after probably an hour of sitting in what is not intended to be a checkpoint, and is instead intended only as an emergency warming station after the “ice lakes” section of the White Mountains 100, I ventured back outside.  This is fun!

photo credit: Lucy Bettis (me early on in the race)

The White Mountains 100, like Susitna only much harder, is entirely on snow machine trail and can be travelled by bike, ski or foot.  I was one of a half-dozen idiots to do the race on foot.  Snow biking or skiing is typically, though not always, a better mode of transport in snow.  This year skiing was tough since there was constant fresh, dry “sugar” snow that makes for terrible glide.  The skiers were putting kick wax on their skate skis since there was no skating to be done.  My sled felt especially heavy for most of the race since it too was having trouble gliding efficiently.  I was never able to weigh it but I am guessing that my sled was only 20 pounds max.  I was only carrying food and extra clothes (plus some emergency stuff like an emergency bivy and matches). 

The week prior to the race I had decided to bag it.  It was stressing me out and my heart wasn’t really into it.  But then after talking to Jill I decided that it would probably be fun and I should do it.  Of course, I later realized that I was talking to someone who had only biked the course and was able to finish in under 20 hours.  (That said, she would love walking the course and think it was the best thing ever).  I was worried that my ambivalence would make it difficult to finish the race, and I was right.  I couldn’t, at any time during the race, explain to myself why I was there or what my objective was.  I asked myself at one point to focus on what had been good rather than chanting repeatedly in my head “this is horrible.” “I eventually warmed up after the ice lakes.  That’s all I got.”  Although I recall that I had all these negative self-chats and chastised myself for ignoring my friend Kevin’s reminder that I had previously promised myself to be kind to myself (something I consistently ignore), I cannot now feel anything but warm and fuzzy about the experience.  I also know that I kept asking myself “what exactly is so terrible?” and found that the answer was always “I am fine, this is sort of beautiful and neat.”  It was both beautiful and neat. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

Dogtooth Dash 2013



This weekend a sizeable group of friends and I (there were 8 of us total) went to Golden, BC's Kicking Horse ski resort for the second time to do the "Dogtooth Dash" ski mountaineering race.  Somehow I was able to convince my friend Emily, pictured below on the left, that she should come do the "rec" division, even though she only started skiing this season and only began tentatively trying blue groomers.  It seemed to me, and I was correct, that she could side-slip the tougher downhills on the course and would enjoy the race.  I'm not sure she enjoyed it, but she finished it with a smile.

friends!

Having convinced her to go, I agreed to do the entire race with Emily and stick with her (unless she wanted to go ahead on the uphills -- she's a fast and super strong athlete).  I'm not sure she had ever done a kick turn before, but she was doing them by the end of the race (nothing like baptism by fire).  She achieved quite a lot for someone in her first season.  She dropped into a steep bowl, got down the double black diamond run (which she had been permitted to believe was not really going to be steeper than a blue run), made it up some gnarly skin track, boot packed with less than awesome steps pre-kicked in, skied giant icy moguls/bumps and generally amazed me.  I can assure you that I would *not* have been doing that in my first season (this being my fourth).  I wasn't totally sure I wanted to be doing it on Saturday, really.


not a blue run (and steeper than this pic makes it look, at least up higher is much steeper)

Meanwhile, Amber stepped things up and did the Elite course, which featured 6,000 ft of vertical climbing (which is a lot) and some impressively sketchy downhills.  For the first time in her skiing career she was side stepping down a run (which she described as a "death chute" -- "%&$ that!" she reported).  I am glad I am not so ambitious.  She is super badass.

definitely not "blue" in those cliffs

Since I have White Mountains 100 next weekend, I was hoping I would not have to do any more than was minimally necessary to make sure Emily didn't die.  I nonetheless chose to use my "heavy metal" setup, with a combined ski/binding weight of 12 pounds (boots add another 6.5 pounds or so), and am now (not surprisingly) a bit sore.      

Amber is my hero

I made sure we enjoyed some Caesares, the national Canadian drink (I am making that up but if it isn't it should be).  It was a really fun weekend and it never caesares to amaze me how cool my friends are.

my contribution to the idea pool (stop skiing, get Cesares)

On the subject of White Mountains, I am mentally getting prepared this week by making lists and being generally distracted at work.  This seems to be the extent of my pre-race routine... I will admit to being very nervous having never done this course before.  I am also incredibly wiped and hoping I get over whatever malaise is consuming me. 

Glacier National Park in March

On the way to Choteau last weekend, our friend Phil started excitedly describing a ski traverse he had done with our friend Brad.  He couldn't remember where it started, but he knew it was awesome.  By a stroke of luck, Brad was planning to take a couple of folks on this traverse yesterday and invited me and Dave to come along.  Brad emphasized that it would be a full day so we met at 5:30 a.m. and got started around 7:30 a.m.

It was nothing short of glorious.  We had sun, which makes itself scarce here during the winter, and mild temperatures.  The snow at lower elevations was hard crust, but for the most part we skied great snow and had a wonderful day totalling 7500 feet of climbing and 8000 feet of downhill.

Near the end I hit a wall and my quads were on fire.  I was so tired I felt like I could just puke or lay down and die.  I may have been challenged on a couple slightly more technical climbs... and had to crawl to avoid falling into a stream and duct tape my boots and require an embarassing level of help/instruction/guidance near the end getting out of the drainage... But it was totally worth it.  This is why I live here.  Such a great day.

Jack & Jill Went Up the Hill

Yesterday the C-Team and its honorary member Phil (he's too good at stuff to really be C-Team material) did the first annual Jack & Jill ski mountaineering race at the small, obscure and remote Teton Pass ski hill.

photo belongs to Teton Pass ski resort

There was a le mans start where we had to run to our skis, put them on and then go.  There were two climbs with the first being significantly longer than the second.  Two downhills as well, both of which were totally managable.  The turnout was amazing with more than 40 people.  It's amazing considering Teton Pass is totally and incredibly remote -- almost an hour's drive from Choteau, Montana, a cute and also fairly obscure town on the Rocky Mountain front -- just outside the Bob Marshall Wilderness. 

Dave, Amber and Phil

Unlike last weekend, I was not last.  In fact, I finished third woman (out of how many I do not know).  I was second on the first ascent but the second place woman out-skied me.  I was in the second transition with her but she took off about a minute before I did and finished 2.5 minutes ahead of me.  She won two coolers of beef -- I just aquired 100+ pounds of bison so I should really be relieved that I didn't win more meat.  I am pleased with being third and despite feeling a bit blobby after a week of unmitigated debauchery, felt like I was able to put in a solid effort and ski the wind-blasted ice/hard pack decently.

Amber WON, as did our friend Phil who took the overall and men's win.  Dave did swimmingly as well.  We might have to become the B- Team with all the winning (or Amber and I cleverly discussed just calling ourselves the A+ Team).  All in all a super fun little adventure and an opportunity to get to know Montana that much better.  I think I am in love with Teton Pass, what with its small hill, dogs running around, great bar and food and $30 lift tickets (free with $35 race entry -- oh and there was all-day free beer).