2024 | Expedition Alaska

Alaska

The first stage of any adventure race can be the hardest and most frustrating and isn’t even marked on the maps. It involves getting to the start line with all of your teammates and gear. For Alaska this was one of the hardest stages thanks to the Crowdstrike update that torpedoed the airline industry. With 3 of us in Anchorage, we got a call from Mari that her flight was canceled and she couldn’t get a flight out of Detroit for 3 days. Cue some mad scrambling that undoubtedly stretched the non-existent wifi at our airbnb. Quoting “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles” the team found a creative solution that involved a drive to Chicago and the last seat on a direct flight to Anchorage. Mari would get to the race headquarters when most racers were in bed before the 6am bus to the start line. Some late night gear sorting, a few hours of sleep, and Bones barely made the start line.

Mt. Marathon and Seward, AK, provided the backdrop for the official start to the race. If you’re not familiar with Mt. Marathon, it’s one of the oldest organized runs in the US. It’s only a 5k, but you gain and then lose a mere 3000’. As teams chose different paths through town, we all converged at the base of the mountain and several poorly marked route options. But since they all went up, we took the first and quickly outpaced everyone else. So much so that as we scrambled up the loose scree above tree line, we wondered if we’d made a wrong turn. It was steep enough that we were literally on all 4s at times, but as we pushed through the clouds we crested the top to find we were still in front. The descent was possibly more treacherous. Loose, STEEP, and STEEP. About 1/2 way down, there was a brief scare when Roy’s ankle tried to explode as he rolled over a loose rock. Limping and gritting his teeth, Roy continued down the mountain and we shuffled into the bike staging area. We swapped shoes and headed out on the bikes just as the rain started to fall and before anyone else got to the transition area.

Only about 25 miles, we figured the bike ride would be fast. But that calculation was based on being able to “ride” most or all of it.  As we left the short pavement section for a trip around Bear Lake, the trail turned rocky and overgrown (compared to what we rode later, this turned out to not really count as overgrown and really could be described as “Alaskan Manicured Singletrack). I’m sure Bear Lake was named for actual bears, but with all our thrashing and groaning and the bell on my bike, we only saw about 500 scat piles and 1 half eaten salmon. Riding through the rain, we crossed the highway and entered a magical section of swooping singletrack before cruising into the transition area and start of the first packrafting leg.

Transitions can play a huge part in a race. Roy, Mari, and Meg are all super efficient in TAs. I, on the other hand, am out of practice. Luckily, they got all the boats inflated, and gear sorted and hot food from the TA staff in the time it took me to remember we were in a race. Our transition was slower than we’d planned, but we still hit the water before any other teams reached the TA. This packraft section was about 30 miles and there were several different route options. As we headed out paddling the first 7-8 miles across the lake, we were incredibly thankful for the lack of wind. Across the lake, then a 5-6 mile trek meant we’d have to deflate and pack all the paddling gear. Our strategy for this next section was to look at bushwhacking options to shorten the route, but as we moved through the forest on trails, we realized that bushwhacking wasn’t realistic given how dense everything was. This led to a couple of on the fly route changes. We reinflated the boats and paddled across another lake to a small island thinking we could paddle through the small channel into the next lake on the map. That small channel turned out to be a river flowing from the lake we were headed toward. Remember what I said about bushwhacking? It looked to be only about 1km, so we headed into the forest dragging the boats through a pretty open understory with some big deadfall. About 1/2 way between the lakes, we came to a “stream” that was too big to wade across, and too full of deadfall to paddle or ferry across, so our bushwhack took us up that stream to a wide and shallow section we could get the boats across. We then headed back downstream to the original “river” and eventually made it to the next lake. As we got back on the water we had been considering leaving our boats while we did an out and back trek to another lake and checkpoint. That checkpoint was on an island that looked to be very close to shore. But with the “channel” we’d just encountered that was really a river, we decided we might need the boats, so we deflated everything and headed over a small ridge to another small lake. As we approached our attack point to reinflate the boats, the trail seemed to disappear into a shoulder high grassy overgrown funhouse. Arriving at the lake edge we found an old canoe and rowboat. Being the entrepreneurial adventure racers we are, we decided to save time and just use the canoe instead of inflating the packrafts. Four people in one canoe? No problem. A quick paddle, island exploration, and we were headed back with only a few more hours to the next TA. Darkness made getting out of the grassy overgrown funhouse a bit challenging, but we eventually found the trail and were headed back to the larger lake system. We passed the 2nd place team while we were headed back and figured we had about 90 minutes on them. The last checkpoint of the section was on the lakeshore and then a quiet paddle in to the TA to prep for a 30 mile trek.

Another suspect transition by me, and we were off for what seemed like a pretty straightforward trek along Crescent Lake. Other than some neck high grass that made the trail had to follow, everything went smoothly… for a while. The rain had stopped in the night, but everything was soaked and while we weren’t terribly sleepy, we did get pretty quiet as we trudged along. Then we heard it. We don’t know what ‘it’ was because we never saw it. But something very loud and very close in a thick piece of bush right next to us growled or screamed or huffed. Suddenly I was fumbling for my bear spray while Meg instinctively put her hands on my shoulders and put me between ‘it’ and her. I don’t blame her, I’d have done the same thing if I could have. Whatever it was, it faded away into the brush and our newfound alertness gave us a burst of speed. That same ‘alertness’ did not, however, help us notice that a landslide had diverted the creek we were looking for as the location of the next checkpoint. We overshot it and came to what to us was the first creek, but in reality was the 2nd. Probably an hour or more of circles and swearing, and we eventually backtracked and found the checkpoint. Disheartened and expecting we’d be caught by the next team any minute, we hustled on to the next TA and what would be a quick paddle across a lake and down river.

Arriving at this TA, we “quickly” got the boats set up and headed off into a pretty stiff headwind. Still nobody behind us that we could see. The paddle was tedious until we reached the end of the lake where it drained into a pretty fun class II stretch that would have been a bit treacherous in the dark. 

Decision time at the next TA. The next 2 stages were both biking. First a 45 mile loop that returns to the same TA, followed by a 90 mile ride to another packraft section. Our original plan was to power through the first ride and sleep before the 90 ride to avoid what would otherwise feel like a 135 mile ride. But we were at this TA about 6pm and knew we’d have a really tough time getting through the night without some sleep. And from what we’d learned about the bush and the bugs (and the wildlife) we were pretty sure we didn’t want to sleep trailside unless we absolutely had to. So we opted for a 2.5 hour sleep. Unfortunately, the TA was right next to the highway and the trucks were so loud that despite our exhaustion, some of us didn’t sleep. But, unique to this race, the TAs were pretty well stocked with hot food. So even though we didn’t all sleep, we all ate a burger and charged ahead on the bikes. When we left the TA, the 2nd place team was sleeping. They’d come in about 1.5 hours behind us and had opted for the same sleep strategy.

The Russian Lakes trail is a great bike trail in early June. Before the cow parsnip and grass grows tall enough to completely cover the trail and anyone riding on it. Riding the trail in late July was an exercise in riding by braille. The first half of the ride was great and trail crews had been working and clearing. About the time darkness hit, the trail clearing stopped abruptly and We couldn’t see the trail, our front tires, or even our handlebars. But as long as you kept pedaling, you’d mostly stay in the slight rut that marked the trail. Vegetation ripping and scraping at us constantly, we stumbled over any rocks or roots as the short Alaskan night wore on. Luckily, there was only a little devils club along this section or we would have literally been shredded. Several hours later we broke free of the undergrowth and cruised into the TA feeling pretty good as the sun was coming up. Not much to do in this transition besides lube the bikes and grab food for the next 90 miles. 

The beginning of this ride followed the Resurrection Pass trail to the town of Hope. About 40 miles, this section was incredible and essentially all rideable. Descending for almost 30 miles with bluebird skies and incredible views of the mountains of the Kenai peninsula was enough to make us forget we were suffering or sleep deprived. However, as soon as we hit the road outside of Hope, our minds got a little fuzzy. We stopped for a 15 cat nap at a coffee shop. But by the time we got foot, coffee, and left, we realized we’d spent almost an hour. It was a bit like one of those fairy tales where people fall down in a meadow and wake up 20 years later. Fired up now and still not seeing any trailing teams, we pace lined the next 30 miles of road. I should probably put pace-lined in quotes because any observer with bike knowledge might not see the “pace-line” similarities. Before getting to the next TA, we had to get a checkpoint that was quite a ways off the paved road. There were several trails to it, but given our prior experience with questionably rideable trails, we opted for one that looked like it had been hand drawn on the map. “That must be the way to go since the race director clearly drew that in, right?” (I’m going to fast forward and paraphrase a conversation Roy had with the race director after the race: “That?!? No, I was trying to erase that trail, not draw it in, it’s terrible. It’s not even a trail, it’s a ski route. Oh god, you didn’t go up that did you?!?”) Yes. Yes we did. After am hour of carrying our bikes up a slide alder choked “ski” run, we were about to give up and turn around. But Meg and her boundless energy and enthusiasm, charged ahead and found the trail about 100 feet from where we were on the verge of giving up. The trail was awesome. Riding it from the start would definitely have saved some time, but probably not a ton. We cruised the rest of the ride and a final pavement section into a stiff headwind before arriving at the next TA. 

Arriving at the TA, we caught up with the team that had skipped the Russian Lake bike loop. They were just drifting of for a sleep, and we decided to do the same. A quick 2 hour sleep left us all feeling rested and strong and ready for another 30 mile packraft. As we left the transition on foot, carrying the rafts for the first 7 miles, the 2nd place (who had arrived about 1-2 hours behind us) was still asleep in the TA. A short Alaskan night began to fall as we trudged along a paved road up to the Byron glacier checkpoint before we had to paddle across Portage Lake below the semi-hanging Portage glacier. The trail up to Byron glacier is heavily traveled by daylight and we were surprised by how much bear scat we found on the trail, including gigantic pile that was actually steaming. I don’t know who suggested that we stick close together, but were were all on edge. Turning to ask a question, Meg suddenly screamed and pointed over my shoulder. Of course I did the most logical thing and screamed and spun around as fast as I could while flailing for the bear spray. Mari yelped and our headlights were disco dancing all around us looking for… something. All screaming various versions of “hey bear!” we realized that the shadow cast by me turning around with the Mag had looked very bear like and triggered the whole episode. Now very awake, our pace improved and we found the checkpoint and got on the the lake. Paddling below a glacier is pretty incredible, but the ice creates it’s own wind by cooling down the air which flows like a river down and across the lake. our steady headwind slowly changed into a tailwind as we made slow progress. We elected to trek the next long out and back before searching for what looked like a tricky CP in the dark, and headed over the pass to Whittier after a quickly losing the drysuits and waiting for Jason to finish vomiting. (I talk about myself in the 3rd person here because it felt like I was having an out of body experience. Something I’ve had many times racing. I think Meg was a little concerned and like “WTF?” but Roy and Mari, having raced with me plenty were like “meh, he does this sometimes. He’ll be fine, lets go.”) Several hours of mindless trekking in the fog and dark, we arrived in the quaint little town of Whittier, full of cute coffee shops and high end retail… not. It felt like a semi abandoned eastern European nuclear fallout zone. We cruised up to the checkpoint at lookout after seeing startling some real life bears. Charging ahead, Roy spooked a bear that he said spit on him. The bear crashed away into the mist. As we made our way back to the boats and a few remaining checkpoints, we crossed paths with the 2nd place team who was still about 1.5 hours behind us. The final portion of this packraft involved paddling past some icebergs on the lake and into the braided river that led back to the TA.  

Fired up for the a quick ride to the final stages, we made quick work of the TA. Even pushed by a strong tailwind, Mari had to tow me so I could keep up as we cruised the next 18 paved miles in about an hour. This brought us to what would eventually be the finish line after 2 more stages: one quick (a tag team climb of the ski area Alyeska) and one long (a planned 40 mile trek that included a 10 mile glacier section). The quick climbs were split up and 2 of us would go while the other 2 slept and prepped their gear for the long trek. Quicker gear prep meant more sleep. Meg and I took the first climb and while we didn’t “crush” it, when we got back 2 hours later, the 2nd place team was still in the transition getting ready for their first 2 to head up the ski hill. Roy and Mari went next and Meg and I barely had time to get our gear ready and fall asleep before they were back. 

The final stage of the race was going to be a long loop with an out and back to the glacier. Because of the incoming storm and time of day, we decided to get all the lower checkpoints in the valley before heading up to the glacier. We figured this would get us to the ridge and onto the glacier just before dawn and limit our night travel on what looked like a treacherous section. Had we been a few hours earlier, we probably would have headed straight for the glacier and tried to get on it before the storm. Several hours after exploring the lowlands and beaver ponds around Girdwood, and after another brief hurl session from Jason during which he snapped one of Roy’s sweet carbon trekking poles (sorry man), we headed up the long dirt road to Crow Pass. Gaining elevation, the rain got heavier and less vertical. At the end of the road we met the race staff tasked with safety on the glacier who would be following behind us up to the pass and onto the ice. The higher we got up the trail, the more stiff the wind and rain. Nearing the pass, we came arrived at the alpine hut to find it occupied and locked. No longer exerting ourselves, and with the rain now horizontal and visibility nil, we quickly got cold and had to huddle in one of the 2 outhouses in the vicinity of the hut. Race staff headed for the other to check in with the race HQ about weather and safety. Roy had a small speaker he’d planned on deploying on the glacier portion to help keep us awake, but with the weather untenable outside and no clear timeline or certainty on whether we’d be able to proceed, the outhouse turned into a disco/karaoke zone for the delirious team Bones. After donning most of our clothes, and belting out the Elton John classic “Tiny Dancer” we finally warmed up. The weather, however, seemed to be getting worse. About an hour later, Race staff came to tell us the glacier section was cancelled, and that alpine hut checkpoint was the last one. All we had to do was get back down the mountain and slog our way to the finish line about 12 miles away before the 2nd place team caught us. 

Several hours later, back in the valley floor, with the rain a mere shadow of its Crow Pass bluster, we crossed the finish line at the day use lodge of Alyeska Resort in Girdwood. We had passed the 2nd place team on our way down from the pass, and while we had a couple of hours on them based on when we passed them, we spent far too much time on the finishing stretch looking over our shoulders worried that they were going to come sprinting up behind us. Roy, Meg, and Mari drove the pace hard for the last couple of hours while I just hung on. We completed roughly 305 miles in just under 96 hours. And finished in first place. Another great adventure for the Bones crew. I’ve raced with many different people over the years, but I’m not sure I’ve ever been so fortunate to race with such an incredible crew. Mari and Roy were known to me and we’ve race together a ton. Add Meg to that mix and it was just incredible how smooth everything went. Meg, Mari, and Roy are all incredibly strong, but it’s more than strength that gets a team successfully through a race like this. I’m glad they let me tag along and try to keep up! 

The recovery is still underway, but Bones will be back on the trail soon.  

Jason