Winter Biking the Denali Highway

There are two stories here...
1. The photos do not speak of the difficulty.
2. The story does not speak of the beauty.

Winter Biking the Denali Highway from Josh Spice on Vimeo.

The Denali Highway is a 135 mile-long gravel road across the south side of the Alaska Range, between Cantwell and Paxson. It is 'closed' in the winter, as the state doesn't plow the road. However, local lodge owners groom it for snowmachine traffic and business, which means unless a storm has blown it shut, it's probably bike-able.

The longer daylight of March makes night riding mostly unnecessary, contrary to the rest of the Alaskan winter. 30 below temperatures meant for cold camping conditions and lots of puffy clothes... and incredibly slow, crunchy snow.

The snow was so crunchy and slow, we often had to pedal to continue moving downhill. Riding the flats was like pedaling an uphill grade. So many uphill sections had to be pushed, where as they should have been ride-able under normal conditions.
It was exhausting the entire way.

Day 1: 46 mi, Cantwell to Susitna Overlook
Day 2: 43 mi, Susitna Overlook to Maclaren Lodge
Day 3: 42 mi, Maclaren Lodge to Paxson

Type II fun at its finest.

Time to (Re)Think

One of my most favorite things about being on a bike is all the quiet time you have to think... about anything... and everything.

Obviously, I like going light and simple and pedaling a heavily laden bike up steep hills is not so much fun. So, I resorted to Cass Gilbert, world traveller via Surly Ogre. His (bike)packing style is similar to mine, so I was able to jump the learning curve quite a bit through his writings and photos. He has great insight on how and why, including how & why not, through experience. The latter is the best.

My Fargo got rigged up in a similar fashion, which I really like a lot. It worked fantastically in the 1.5 day ride Brett & I did to Denali Park.
Unfortunately, my worsening ankle pronation due to flat arches, caused a tendon/ligament to flare up and cause a good limp. I had to quit the 460 mile ride I had planned for 6 days, going across the Denali Highway and back up to Fairbanks.
Instead, I hopped the train back to Fairbanks from Denali National Park, where Brett had planned on accompanying me to.

In the 120 paved miles, I did learn my nicely-organized set-up in one way and junk show in another, could be improved upon. Ironically, I got home and Cass had put up a post with his altered set-up, which was almost exactly what I was thinking to change. I like the addition of the rack to strap random things to, or as a place to put some food at the start of the trip or at re-supplies.

When I got back to town, I bought some Superfeet insoles and they seem to be helping my foot issue. I'll give it a few days of rest, then I'll be back on the bike. I have a few more rides I'd like to do this summer, including the portion I had to skip out on.

Ride times:
Fairbanks to Monderosa ~55 mi: 3.5 hrs
Monderosa to Tatlanika/Nenana River bridge ~27 mi: 2 hrs (camp overnight)
Bridge to Healy ~25 mi: 2 hrs
Healy to Denali Park ~14 mi: 1 hr
8.5 hrs total ride time, Fairbanks to Denali ~120 mi

Here are some photos of the ride. Thanks for stopping by.
Josh

Prior to Launch

Getting loaded up to do 450 miles on the new Salsa Fargo 3. Mostly a paved route with 110 mi of dirt in the middle. And mostly solo.

The kit pictured worked well on a seven mile ride with some gravel... except for the sandals strapped to the seatbag. They fell off twice. I'll add a cordloc to the stretch cord and I think that will solve it.

Ken went hiking with Andrew Skurka and (finally) saw the light in ultralight. I've tried with him, but he's stubborn... and morally opposed to owning too much 'new' stuff. I applaud him for that and we cheers over it, with PBR in cans.

I'm hoping to learn some stuff on the bike this week. I have 1,000 miles of riding planned this month. Yay bikes!

No, I did not die.

It's been a month-and-a-half since I last posted, as you probably well know. Sorry. Life has been busier than words can describe, mostly with adventure, but work (out of the office) has played a big part, as well. I have only worked indoors for about a week in the past month-and-a-half, which has been awesome, but also stressful.

Jen & I joined 9 others in Yakutat and paddled down the Russell Fjord for a ways, before deciding that only 4 hours pause in the rain in three days was trumping our ability to enjoy ourselves. We turned around the next day and everyone else continued on. Snow accumulating on our packrafts made us happy we were headed back, while the others continuing down the fjord wondered what they were doing going closer to the glaciers.

The night we got back, I started moving into a new cabin located 3.5 miles closer to town. It's way nicer than the old place and that much closer to work, which is huge in the winter when it's -35F. I somehow scrambled to move out of one cabin and into another in 5 days, just in time to leave for two weeks.

The next fifteen days were spent on the Yukon River, between the town of Circle and the Canadian border, surveying peregrine falcons nesting on the bluffs above the river. A great, long time out on the river (my old stomping grounds) and we got to watch a lot of birds... pretty much a nesting pair on every bluff.

The day after I got back, it was re-pack and turn around to boat down the Yukon, orienting four co-workers to Yukon-Charley Rivers National Preserve. The Yukon was at flood stage and it was like being in combat, navigating the boat on the river.

After being car-less for a month, I made the decision to keep it status quo and buy a new bike instead of a car. The Fargo 3 got the nod over the higher-end Fargo 2, which lacks bar-end shifters and is only a 2x10 with a really lame paint job. I'd feel snobbish running 10 in the rear, like a real road biker, which I am not. A couple other little things, ironically, make the 3 nicer (IMHO) than the higher price point 2, outside of the bane of my existence, Avid BB5 brakes, which are easily replaced for cheap. Overall, I like the Fargo over the Surly Ogre because of the drop bars, the road gearing up front and a mountain cassette in the rear (all mountain on the Ogre), and having been not so impressed with the feel of the Ogre, either.

Now, only four days after returning, it's the eve of heading down to California with Jen to do a mini road trip to Nevada.

The point of all this is I have countless photos, stories, gear reviews, etc, to share from as far back as February... or maybe even earlier. But, with a lot of time off the rest of this summer and lots of big plans (plus a GF, lonely dogs, and a new cabin to move into), it may be fall before I even get a chance to go through all the photos, much less put together a post worth reading.

All I can say is thank you and semper fidelis.
Now, go get some, yourself!

Under Human Power

Sparked by my buddy Darrell's near completion of human-powered travel from Mexico to the Arctic Ocean, I just sold my car, as I'm going to be gone for the majority of the summer. I'm down to two single-speed bikes and there's no reason I can't bike to and from work and get groceries. I have yet to figure out how I'll transport a 40 lb bag of dog food, however. Good thing I just got one.

Darrell hiked the PCT, sea-kayaked the BC coast, hiked the Chilkoot Trail, and paddled the Yukon River. I met him in Fairbanks in the summer of 2010 after he was done paddling. He most recently came through Fairbanks and skied & snowshoed (sp?) from the Yukon River to Wiseman in winter conditions. Hats off to him. I'm happy I was able to help him out as his local contact & base station of sorts.

He's returning late this summer to hike from Wiseman to Anaktuvuk Pass, where he'll packraft out to the coast and get picked up via bush plane on the Arctic Ocean, unless I can convince him to have an inflatable sea kayak flown in to Umiat on the Colville River (Alaska's longest clear-running river) and turn west after reaching the coast and continue to Barrow. I think this would be more fitting of a finish, being the northernmost point in the U.S. and it would save him a $1200 pick up flight back to Deadhorse/Prudhoe Bay. Who wants to go there, anyway? Human-powered travel from Mexico to the Arctic Ocean and end at oil fields? Two thumbs down.

Anyway, I'm car-less. It feels liberating, but I'm sure my legs will argue my decision to sell the car.

Here's my schedule of adventures this summer... it's pretty packed.
May 5-13: Packrafting Russell Fjord (near Yakutat) to East Nunatak Glacier & Hubbard Gap with Luc Mehl, et al.
May 14-21: Moving into a new cabin closer to town, so I don't have to bike so far... more incentive to not buy another car :)
May 22-June 6: Surveying peregrine falcons on 200 miles of the Yukon River (I created that webpage btw)
June 8-16: Orienting a co-worker to 150 mi of the Yukon & installing a webcam in a peregrine falcon nest
June 18-19: Fatbiking the Coal Wood Glitter route... or at least trying it
July 6-13: Bikenrafting from Chitina to Cordova on the Copper River with support to the racers of the AK Mtn Wilderness Classic
July 21-25: Fatbiking from the Richardson Hwy to Nabesna, through the eastern Alaska Range
August 8-15: Fatbiking from Nabesna to McCarthy (great trip report!), through Wrangell-St Elias National Park
August 17-25: Canoeing & photographing the Yukon River for work while orienting another co-worker to the river

If I survive, you should have worth-while things to look at and read on this blog by the end of summer.
There's over 500 miles of off-trail wilderness fatbiking planned, alone.
This is easily my most epic season of adventure of my life. A lot of it is really big stuff...
I hope I can pull it off and tell the stories well on here.

Thanks for tuning in and come back soon. The best this blog has ever put out is on its way.

The Return of the Prince: A Fatbike Crusade

The Crown Jester Jeremigha Lafleur, XVII of the North Hood & I, Sir Lord King Josh Spice, VIII of the Banks of Fairshire, went on a crusade to Anchorshireham, reuniting with Sir Lord Prince Jackson Attackus Gadamus, III of West Nomeingham, our fellow fat rider who has been living in his far off lands of western Alaska for the past year.
Us lads enjoyed our stay in Anchorshireham's finest quarters, owned by Captain Cook, himself, and reveled in our time with the Prince of West Nomeingham, brother to us crusading fatbikers of Fairshire & the North Hood. With fast trails & trusty, fat steeds, we traveled the coastal lands in search of glorious sunshine and its life-giving rays of joy.

We hope you enjoy the telling of our journey and share memories of reuniting with your own friends in far away places.


A tale from the voyages of Sir Lord Prince Jackson Attackus Gadamus III from Jeremiah Lafleur on Vimeo.

Gearing Up For A Change

I had an epiphany and learned something pivotal this past weekend... It's not about what you can't do, it's about what you CAN.
How can a 36 mile winter fatbike ride be more difficult than a 100 mile winter fatbike ride? Soft snow and one gear.

When I had my 29er with Snow Cats, I challenged anyone to show me a place they could ride a fatbike and I couldn't ride my bike. For a long time, I could hang with anyone, anywhere. That was until we went and rode a dry creek bed in the Alaska Range. 29ers can do cobble with a lot of effort... but fatbikes can do it with ease.

So, I bought a fatbike and built it as a single-speed.

Of course, I challenged anyone to show me a place they could ride with gears that I couldn't ride with my single-speed. I dominated hills, topping out first, always. I powered through rough terrain with dripping testosterone. I raced the White Mountains 100 and finished in just over 16 hours, beating A LOT of other bikers.

Once again, I could hang with anyone, anywhere. But, again, that was until I rode with Kevin Breitenbach on Saturday, who's fresh off his first place ride in the Arrowhead 135 and second place finish in the Susitna 100. Last year, on the White Mountains 100, he took second place, finishing in 10 hrs 15 mins.

So, big question is, could I hang with Kevin in the White Mountains?

Nope.

Soft trail conditions slowed us both down, but it also brought down one more thing...
The gearing he pedaled in. I was not so fortunate to be able to downshift, which meant I was cranking hard while he putt-putted along, spinning in low gear. It was the first time I realized I needed gears.

By the time we got 20 miles into our 36 mile ride, it was starting to impact my riding ability, right when the trail got worse. I was in too high of a gear ratio to be able to spin freely and keep my balance, riding slow on the poor trail, which meant riding a straight line was really difficult. Second time I realized I needed gears.

When we hit uphills, Kevin downshifted and I cranked harder, exhausting myself in the soft snow. Then, I'd get off and push... and here's the biggest thing I learned: Until then, everyone I had ever biked with, I could keep up with going uphill if I was pushing and they were riding. But Kevin is strong, obviously. He pulled away and I had no chance of keeping up. Third time I learned I needed gears.

Because I could keep up pushing while others rode the uphills, I had always thought I was giving myself a break from biking, using fresh walking muscles to go up the steeper sections. This may be true in the middle pack of riders, but not up front.

Towards the end of the ride, my muscles were spent from 30 miles of cranking hard and pushing a bike uphill in soft snow. I told Kevin, with five miles left, that I'd meet him at the trailhead because I was going to push the final uphill sections, knowing he'd ride them all. Fourth time I realized I needed gears.

When I got back to the trailhead, he had been there about 25 minutes. He gained that amount of time in the final 5 miles, since we separated, all because he could downshift and ride uphill. He told me I needed gears. That was the cherry on top of it all, to hear him say that I did. He also said if I had gears and raced, I'd place in the top 5 finishers every time, after seeing what I WAS able to ride on my single-speed and reflecting back on my 16 hour finish in the WM100.

It was satisfying to hear that I was capable of that, but also saddening to know that I was stupidly being stubborn and riding single-speed simply because I liked it, not because it was a good idea. Gears for winter riding and racing are a good idea. Less time out on trail, less energy spent so less is needed in food calories, less sleep deprivation, etc. Single-speed is for summer trips, where simplicity and durability are more important, not speed and ability to ride everything encountered.

Quite the change for me. I actually will need to learn how to ride a geared bike again. Strange.
Don't worry, I'm keeping the single-speed Pugs. That will never go away. But I can't put gears on a horizontal drop-out bike, so in my sights is an aluminum Fatback, because they ride so beautifully and I have to keep it Alaskan.

Anyone want to sponsor me, so I can keep up and race with Kevin?

The Out-of-Shape 100: An Annual Fatbike Ride

What seems even more routine than doing the 100 mile loop in the White Mountains National Recreation Area every year on my fatbike, is how I somehow always do it 'off-the-couch.' Maybe because I know I can?

In 2010, I had just gotten my 29er with Snow Cats and thought it would be a good idea to do a 100 mile winter bike trip in the backcountry. I had no experience doing this sort of a trip on a bike, especially in winter. It went fine, I had a lot of fun, learned many things, and came back feeling strong and accomplished... and lucky with the nice conditions I had.

In 2011, I broke down and bought a fatbike in February. Then in March, I got into the White Mountains 100 race 23 hours before the start. I had not planned on doing the race, outside of signing up for the wait list a week before, when the race director told me I'd probably get in if I did. First time doing any sort of racing and I hadn't even put on 100 cumulative miles on any of my bikes prior to the race. I finished 23rd, in 16 hrs 15 mins with my single-speed Pugsley. I was exhausted, but I did it and I didn't kill myself doing it.

This year, we all survived the month-and-a-half cold snap of doing nothing other than simply surviving (read: not biking). I hadn't ridden since early December (see the winter extreme cold weather trend?) and Brett had never been on his bike for more than two hours at one time, having just gotten it earlier this winter. I knew we'd be fine, though... right?

Having done the 100 mile route twice already, I've learned snow biking is the perfect time to swallow your pride and admit you're mortal. Yes, get off and push the bike up the hills, using fresh walking legs. It's easier than trying to ride the steep and mushy if you're not in phenomenal shape.

We had a great plan to meet up with three friends at the cabin 62 miles into the 100 mile loop and spend the night. They'd be there before us, so a warm cabin was our motivation to push on... literally.

Riding was pretty good, albeit slightly slow due to the cold, granulated snow. We did 35 miles in 5 hours, which is alright for loaded bikes, then rested for a bit, and went over 3300 foot Cache Mountain Divide in the dark, pushing up a lot of it. Once on the other side, it was a long descent to the cabin, including almost two miles of overflow ice with ankle deep slush in places.

We rolled in to the cabin at 9 pm, under the glow of the aurora, and were welcomed by our three friends with hot water and a warm cabin. It was a great way to end a 62 mile day of winter biking, hanging out with friends, watching the aurora, and sleeping in a warm cabin in the middle of everywhere.

John Shook had a wonderful idea to heat up some brandy on the wood stove for Brett & I, but Ed Plumb grabbed the pot, in the poorly lit cabin, dumped the 'contents' in the water pot, and headed outside to get more snow for melting. John raced to the door and yelled, 'STOP!,' but it was too late. Brandy water it was for Brett & I to fill our bottles with for the next day. It was like having a little dose of ibuprofen with every drink. Pretty sweet way to ease aching muscles.

The next morning, we left the cabin with the temp at 5 below and rode into the bottom of the Beaver Creek drainage, where the cold settled in. The 20 below temps nipped at our noses and fingers as we pedaled through the open spruce forest.

With the dropping temperatures came drier and more granulated (read: slower) snow. It was a struggle to pedal flat ground, much less any sort of uphill gradient. After pushing up many small grades, including the 600 foot, mile long Wickersham Wall, we only had a handful of miles left as the sun began to dip towards the horizon.


We reached the trailhead and got to drive back to Fairbanks in the light. What a treat to not be out in the dark again. I'm glad I went with Brett, this time, as it was really fun to bike the route with another person. Also very cool to meet up with our friends at the cabin, which made for a nice night on trail.
Another loop on the 100 mile route in the White Mountains complete. Maybe next time I'll be in better shape.
Maybe next time, I'll do it self-supported in a day...

 

I should do a post in February

Well, I didn't die. The month-and-a-half long cold snap down to -57F at my cabin didn't kill me because I barely did anything outside the whole time. It almost killed me, though... mentally. I got 50 below in Fairbanks for my birthday and even colder where I live. Thanks, Mother Nature. I really appreciated it. Yeah.
Since it warmed up, I've battled to regain the desire to go outside and experience this thing they call 'fun.' I almost forgot what it was.

Skiing seemed like a reasonable idea during the cold snap and a few friends finally convinced me to go outside. It was worth it.

Then the outdoors editor for the local paper called me and asked some questions about fatbikes. I was featured in the story.

I put out Far North Fatbikes' third edition of our newsletter, The Fat & Happy.

Then, I got to head out into the great white world of Yukon-Charley Rivers National Preserve to co-manage the hospitality stop (photos) at Slaven's Roadhouse for the Yukon Quest International Sled Dog Race. The aurora gave me a nice goodbye the night before I left and then welcomed me the night I arrived at the historic roadhouse.

When I got back, my buddy Brett & I headed out into the White Mountains with our fatbikes and did the 100 mile loop in two days. It was a coarse reminder of how far 100 miles is and how out of shape we were from the cold snap.
The only thing I have to say, don't wear a backpack while biking. It kills ventilation.

My buddy, Jack, came into Anchorage from Nome, so J.R. & I went down to see him and ride fatbikes.
J.R. put together a video of the trip.

Our bud, Colby designed a sweet new logo for Far North Fatbikes.

I'm working on a trip report of the White Mountains biking trip, but decided I should probably do a post in February.
More to come soon, after I catch up on sleep and do a short bike trip this weekend... just a 40 mile day ride, no big deal :)

2012: To Do Before The End

Supposedly, the world is going to end this year. If nothing else, it's a good motivator and excuse to get out more in 2012.
Here's my 'O-12' resolutions...

1.  Workout at least three times per week. I'm going to keep it easily obtainable in counting just about any real physical, recreational activity: bike commuting, skiing, push-ups, or even chasing down my dog team after they rip the snowhook out, although I hope to not do too much of that.

2.  Reduce my debt significantly. School loans, car payment, etc. Can't do it in one year, but I can do a lot.

3.  Ski a 100+ mile off-trail route. Hopefully, this one. I just built an Incredible Rulk for it.

4.  Do another 100 mile winter route on my fatbike in under 24 hours.

5.  Do a 50 mile hike in 24 hours. Keeping a two mile per hour pace should keep it achievable. After that, do a 100 mile hike in 48 hours.

6.  Do a 200 mile hike off-trail in Alaska. Probably crossing or traversing one of the ranges: Brooks, Alaska, or Wrangells.

7.  Write more, both on here and for other entities, both web and printed. Writing was a hit in 2011. I'll try to do more this year.

8.  Put out more gear reviews. This falls under number seven, but it's a little more specific.

9.  Catch some caribou again and haul them out with my dogteam. This would be a very fulfilling experience.

10.  Reduce my Alaska summer basepack weight to under 10 lbs. I'm pretty much there already, but need to refine and test it.

This should give me enough things to shoot for this year. Thanks for tuning in.