Adventure by Bike

Adventure by Bike has summed up this year, thus far, and will continue to do so for the long foreseeable future.

And that is great.

I'm about to depart on the biggest trip/adventure/race/ride/undertaking I've ever attempted, the Stagecoach 400 - a mountain bike race from Idyllwild, CA to San Diego & back, through the desert, mountains, coast, etc. I am and have been busy racing the Mukluk & preparing for this race the past two months, so I'll do a winter re-cap when I get back in May. It'll be a good launch into this summer's extensive ride plans. I'll also unleash the best news I've gotten in a long time, as it's still in the works.

It has a little something to do with 'Adventure by Bike.'

For now, it's time to go far on the Fargo. More soon, in 400 miles.

Fatbiking With A Vagabond

I had the pleasure of going fatbiking with Glenn Charles for the day on the Stampede Trail, north of Denali National Park, Alaska.
Glenn rode his fatbike up from Anchorage and was literally stopped cold in his tracks by a 40 below cold snap when he got to Denali.
Before returning south, I drove down to spend a beautiful day fatbiking with a man who truly is living an incredible life outdoors.
Enjoy the photos.

Rode to the North Pole & back today...

54 miles R/T: 3 hrs there, 2 hrs back. On return trip, I averaged 13.5 mph & 16.8 mph in the first 11.5 mi.
First ever fatbike ride over 50 miles with gears - all others were singlespeed.
Good day, riding at a rare for Fairbanks 20-25 above zero with lots of daylight.

Looking Past the Cold

Last night, I bought airline tickets to fly to SoCal and race the Stagecoach 400.
400 miles of desert mountain biking in late-April sounds nice right now, as the mercury is still falling past 35 below zero.
It'll be bikepacking and sleep deprivation at its finest. To quote JayP, 'I plan to go to places in my mind I've never been before.'

Here's a sample of what I can expect... photo courtesy of Hub Cyclery in Idyllwild, CA, who puts the race on.


I can't begin to say how excited I am, not only for this race, but the 3,000+ miles of mountain bike racing and trips I have planned.
It should be a year to remember and a year that will take me to incredible places, both on the map and in my heart & mind.

More on the other 2,600 miles of biking races and trips to come... Stay tuned and, as always, thanks for being awesome viewers!

Excitement

Exciting times, I tell ya...

Ken gets attacked by cows

New Alaskan Self-Supported Bike Race

The Traveling Vagabond and Emily Chappell are both coming to AK to ride fatbikes!

Get a Far North Fatbikes t-shirt for $20 or order a hoodie for $40. Get both & save on shipping!

L48ers watch out - KB from AK is returning to defend his crown

Looking for custom gear? Tupper is up for the challenge and AK fatbikers sport his goods.

50% off upgrade for Crank Brothers pedals

Cass puts 2.25s on his new Ogre and has room for fenders.

WM100: Arctic Endurance

WM100: Arctic Endurance from Jeremiah Lafleur on Vimeo.

J.R. Lafleur's documentary on the White Mountains 100 Bike/Foot/Ski race in Interior Alaska, an event that both of us, and many other people in and around Fairbanks, Alaska, hold very near & dear to our hearts.

J.R. grew up in Fairbanks and is a long-time bike racer and my fellow co-owner of Far North Fatbikes, and I have done the course three times - once solo & self-supported, once racing the WM100 on my fatbike, and another time on fatbikes with my good friend, Brett Parks. I also volunteered for the race it's inaugural year, in 2010, so I have been involved with it, in some fashion, all three years of it's existence.

The White Mountains 100 is unarguably the best organized race in the state of Alaska, as you can probably well see from the video.

J.R. & I filmed the 2012 race using his Sony XA-10 video camera & Nikon D3100, via snowmachine.
I'm very happy with the results and his ability to put it all together in such a captivating story.

Check out his other work on his Vimeo page and follow my progress this March as I race on my fatbike.

I'm In... Again

Well, I got in. This time, a little more than 23 hours before the start of the race, like in 2011.

The White Mountains 100 is a bike/foot/ski race held in Interior Alaska in winter... well, late March, when the hospitable temperatures and sunlight have returned to the northern hemisphere, more or less to stay 'til fall.

I've done the route three times on my fatbike and twice on snowmachine.

2010 - Volunteered for the race, patrolling the course on snowmachine, looking for racers in need of assistance. The next week, having just purchased a new 29er with Snow Cat wheels, I went out and rode the course solo in 29 hrs.

2011 - 23 hrs before the race start, I got in, as someone had dropped out. I hadn't ridden 100 miles total, all winter, before the race. I finished 23rd, in 16 hrs 15 min, on my single-speed Pugsley.

2012 - Brett Parks & I rode the 100 mile route in two days as an overnight camping trip. Bitter cold and horrifically dry, abrasive snow. JR & I then filmed the race via a snowmachine and he made a documentary, which airs this winter at a film festival.

2013 - The first year in which I can actually train before doing the route/race. I'm happy to be in again. AND, I have gears now!

I'm excited. Now, I have a legit reason to ride bikes as much as possible. I needed a goal like this to get in tip-top shape.
Hopefully, you won't have to look far down the list to see my name in March.

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!

The Appropriate Tool for the Job

Highway commuting with a 350 diesel truck, jacked up with big mud tires.
Got the image? Now maybe you'll get my point below.

Bikes are tools... but they're different from many tools in that they can provide vast amounts of enjoyment, regardless of the amount of effort we put into using them. But like all tools, there is an appropriate one for each project, job, purpose, etc.
This is a rant of frustration and of support. Frustration in the sense of how many people are riding fatbikes where fatbikes are not necessary (read: appropriate) and in support in the sense of where they are designed to be used or ridden, including promotion of riding bikes in general. Fatbike popularity has skyrocketed in the past year. They are dominating winter bike races, causing an almost disappearance of 26 & 29 inchers, and being taken to places where people never thought bikes could go. At the same time, thousands of people are riding them on singletrack and on city streets. Isn't there a better bike for these applications?
I will say now that anyone is free to ride whatever bike anywhere, but I will also say, from experience, that you'll be missing out some by not using the appropriate tool for the job, even though, I admit, fatbikes are fun to ride everywhere... even pushing them is moderately enjoyable, at least in the places I've pushed mine for a hundred miles or so.

I like to ride long distances in remote places, so maybe my perspective is a little skewed... Before I got my fatbike, I wasn't much of a biker. I liked to hike, even when I owned a 29er on Snow Cats, as it wasn't the right tool to replace my own two feet for the places I like to explore. When I got my fatbike, I started racing and doing bigger remote & self-supported Alaskan trips in the winter, mostly 100 miles or more. Now, my entire summer is planned out with four 100+ mile off-trail fatbiking trips in Alaska. I'm sure I'll get plenty of hiking in, i.e., taking my bike for a walk.

I'll start this rant with the biggest aggravation to nearly every Alaskan rider I have talked or ridden with in the last six months:
This past winter has marked the explosion of fatbikes into the mainstream bike world. Coincidentally, the Lower 48 did not receive 'winter' for more than 5 days... at least not in the Midwest, where 95% of fatbike blog posts, stories, reviews, articles, ride reports, and the like are coming from. There is no legitimacy to these (specific) writings about how well the tires or certain fatbike models perform on 'dry leaves,' as a lot of us up here jokingly say. Why are people writing about the application of fatbikes (designed for sand, snow, & off-trail) outside of their intended purpose? The misuse of fatbikes is being perpetuated over the internet.
Would you buy a copy of a mountain bike magazine twice if all their articles revolved around pavement or dirt road riding and not singletrack? Or what about a road biking website that never talked about riding roads, just about gear and being a roadie? Both are not experts in that field, I'd say.

12 miles to work at -49F

I don't mean to offend anyone for any riding or writing they've done, wherever they live or in whatever conditions they experience, but I read one blog post this past winter, talking about how he'd stop at every traffic light and 'take a sip of hot brew to warm up.' It was 14 degrees above zero! When I read this article, it hadn't gotten ABOVE minus-30 degrees Fahrenheit at my cabin for three weeks straight. Are you serious? A buddy had just told me how funny it was that his rear wheel wouldn't even make one complete revolution when he picked up his bike and spun the tire, simply because it was so cold. And yes, his wheels are winterized.
Duck for cover if you have to ask what that means.

My point with this post? Fatbikes are snowbikes. But they were originally designed for sand... in Texas. Most appropriately, they're designed to be ridden off-trail (except in winter, when on-trail is where they shine, as opposed to where most bikes completely fail). They are slower and heavier than other mountain bikes and built for the ability to ride when other bikes cannot. While they are not built for speed, they are a BLAST to ride just about anywhere, which could explain their popularity, even in urban settings.
Could rough-road touring overseas be added to the appropriate usage list?

In Alaska, fatbikes have seen extensive usage in all seasons. Most notably are the famous Lost Coast adventures of The Captain and Dylan, with Roman, Doom, & Mike in tow, most recently. The wildest shoreline in possibly all of North America? Hundreds of miles of beaches and cobble? No trails? Perfect for a fatbike. Exactly what the original was designed for, actually.
Winter snowbike races are where fatbikes excel in winter. Sure, you don't always need a fatbike and yes, a 29er on Snow Cats is lighter and potentially faster and have and will continue to win some winter races (in ideal, firm snow conditions), but if it snows the night before the start, you can still beat the skiers if you're on a fatbike. Those sticking to 29ers for winter racing might as well hand the trophy to the best skier at the start line.
Some people downstates have found their best use, too. This guy rides in Minnesota and even came up to AK to test a protoype. And Dave is practicing for bigger things next year... IN ALASKA! I plan to be with him. Ooh, the anticipation!
THESE are the people that should be writing about fatbikes and their abilities and usage and giving reviews about how they and their components perform.
This isn't about if you're not riding in Alaska, you're misusing fatbikes... fatbikes are awesome tools for exploring the world! There's 700K people in Alaska, which is 1/5th the size of the Lower 48. There's SO MUCH terrain perfect for fatbiking in Alaska and many other countries that it seems strange for us (Alaskans) to think of using fatbikes downstates. Anyone down there just needs to search a little harder for ideal fatbiking ground than we do in the more remote & wild sections of the world.

Why are people riding them on singletrack? Or through town on dry pavement? Or commuting? Or on icy roads? Or even racing them on-trail in non-snow/sand conditions? Or to the extent of fatbikes being their only bike for all riding purposes?
It seems like, in most places, people are dying to find a legit use of fatbikes simply because they are so much fun to ride or because they think fatbikes are cool. They are, but again, think of the jacked up diesel with mud tires on the highway...
Fatbikes are a niche tool, designed for soft substrates where maximum flotation is necessary to be able to ride. Just like how road bikes are meant for roads, mountain bikes for singletrack, bmx for punk-kid riding, and sit-up cruisers for old people who want to relax, fatbikes have their niche or appropriate usage, too. But let out some air and go rip some singletrack with 8 psi and you might start changing your mind about their niche-ness.

In the video below, I ask you if a fatbike is really needed? I argue no, as you could carry any bike across this creek instead of trying to ride across and get water in both hubs and the bottom bracket... but you'd miss out on some fun if carrying.



Fatbikes are fun to ride anywhere, yes... but, I tried my Pugsley on singletrack once... it was slow and heavy, but it did absorb the roots and rocks a little better because of the volume of the tires, giving it a much more comfortable ride. Yes, I commute to work on my Pugsley, too... in winter, on soft snow-covered trails. Fairbanks streets are covered in ice from November 1 to mid-March when studded tires on a 29er are way better than fatbikes, but I avoid the streets and opt for the quiet trails. The Midwest is even slicker, as our temperatures stay well below zero all winter, but their's swing up to and around freezing often, causing water to form on the surface of the ice. So why so many fatbikes downstates and not studded 29ers? Ride quality.
And who would think a 30 lb fatbike could keep up with a 22 lb cross-country race bike? Unless you're riding really rough or soft stuff or off-trail, I'd say there's no way. Pretty fun to try and compete on a fatbike but winter snowy trail bike races are the only races fatbikes will win... unless someone comes up with a race where you're crossing the Gobi Desert or something like that... or maybe the Alaska Mountain Wilderness Classic... but still.

To argue from the other end of the spectrum, disregard everything I'm ranting about and go ride whatever bike you have or want. It's good for you. Ride what you can afford to... all year long.
And on that note, in contrast to riding what's appropriate, I admit I have taken my Specialized Rockhopper 29er and turned it into a commuter. I swapped big lugs for flat-proof slicks. I put on less aggressive handlebars and a cushier seat. I also made it rigid up front with a carbon fork and single-speed in the rear, via a Surly Singleator.
Is it ideal? No, hardly. Does it work? Sure, I like the mountain geometry better than road or urban, as it's more my style and if it's nasty riding, I can just put the mountain tires back on. But just like fatbikes work for dirt roads, something else would be better for commuting. In my case, I couldn't afford to buy another bike, so I took the one I had (and didn't have a use for after getting my fatbike) and turned it into what I wanted... a tool with a distinct purpose. I'd rather have a steel frame to absorb more of the bumps and braze-ons for adding a rear rack easily, but hey, it's there in my living room, hanging, and ready to be ridden to work this week and didn't cost me anything extra, much unlike a new fatbike ridden not on snow, sand, or off-trail. I bought a fatbike to ride with the purpose they were designed for, hence my frustration, or maybe lack of complete understanding, with the thousands being ridden on hard surfaces and established trails.

Will you still see me riding my fatbike on rough dirt roads, especially in Alaska? You bet. I think rough dirt road touring could be the one application outside of what fatbikes are designed for where they do very well and could be about as good as any other bike. They're fun & comfortable bikes, which I think is the main reason so many people are riding them for so many purposes. With all that air in those wide tires, they smooth out the miles of washboard quite nicely and are very stable in loose and large gravel. Is it the ideal bike for dirt road touring? No, but it's pretty good for it, mostly where the dirt roads are very poorly maintained, and I also don't have a touring bike.

Here are three videos, all by the same dude, who has done thousands of miles of fatbiking in Alaska in summer & winter.
The videos show where fatbikes aren't necessary, are the only bike possible, and also where they may not belong... in that order:




Did I argue in a circle and contradict myself multiple times? Probably; it's a rant. But, I hope you get the point. Sure, I'll admit, fatbikes are a blast to ride, anywhere, anytime. I even started a fatbike rental company with my buddy, in order to get more people on them and show how much fun they are. But our whole business plan revolves around snowy trails in winter and off-trail riding in summer... not in places where other bikes already shine. And I would never tell someone to go buy a fatbike if I didn't think they were going to use it on snow trails or river beds, etc, in the summer.

The underlying message is this...
Fatbike popularity is skyrocketing. They are starting to be seen everywhere, especially downstates, where there is seemingly very little usage for them in such a civilized & developed (read: trail-filled and paved) world. Please don't waste your time trying to tell the world how good fatbikes do where another tool (bike) would be more appropriate... because that's the whole reason fatbikes exist - no other bike can do what they do, where and when they're designed to be ridden. Yes, you can ride any bike anywhere, with varying degrees of enjoyment and success, but don't try and argue how good your jacked up monster truck is for commuting on the highway. If you use it in the mountains or for real off-trail exploration, I'm all ears because you're testing it for what it was designed for, with the one exception I see as rough dirt road touring.

Maybe the conditions and available summer off-trail wilderness & winter snow trail riding opportunities up here in Alaska are so far removed from what 98% of people experience that WE are the ones giving slanted reviews and putting unfair expectations out there.
Let's just not make fatbiking the new snowboarding, as I don't want to be associated with any image or style, other than that which embodies the vision to ride expeditiously where no bike has ever tread before.

To hammer my point farther, no one can do THIS with a road, track, mountain, fat, or whatever-bike. There is only one appropriate tool:


Although, maybe time will prove otherwise...

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...