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.

Fat Trials

At the end of my last post, I questioned whether this would take off, with the popularity of Danny MacAskill.
I believe that question has been answered. It would be sweet to have a medium frame Pugs on 80s or 65s to play like this.

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...

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...

 

30 Below Fatbike Camping: A System Test

I packed up the bike with sleeping bag & pad, since I hadn't slept outside in... I can't remember, which made me sad. It was -15F when I left my cabin, so I brought my -20F bag, as it was snowing and clouded over, which should have meant that it was to get warmer over the course of the night. Well, I woke up after 9.5 hours of sleep to clear skies and at least -25F. (This was the temperature at my cabin when I returned, which is warmer than the area I slept.)
The big spruce tree down by the creek has kept good shelter over me from the night's snowfall, but I had begun to feel the clearing skies and falling temps. I packed up the bag & pad and got rolling on the creek with completely numb fingers. I didn't try to solve the problem because, fortunately, my cabin was not far ahead.
A great night of sleep, outside, breathing fresh air, by myself, under a big spruce tree next to a snow-covered creek... with my fatbike.

What I learned:
1. A tent isn't necessary for camping in winter, in most places. There's almost always a place to tuck your bag into that provides some sort of shelter from either wind and/or falling snow, of which the latter is less of a problem than the former, as it's usually cold enough to stay frozen and not make you wet. Although, tents do hold in heat, resulting in a warmer environment to sleep in, keep the snow out, stop the wind, and provide peace of mind for some people while sleeping out in the dark & scary woods. They take time to set-up and take up space on the bike, as well as add weight. A tent might not be necessary, but it's probably worth the weight if you want to truly camp and not just get a little shut-eye for a few hours.

2. I need a better winter sleeping pad. While I didn't feel the cold, frozen ground, I did feel the hard, frozen ground. There is not enough padding in those two thin, foam pads rolled up under the handlebars. I like to sleep on my side and this made for a pretty uncomfortable rest. Plus, when I rolled them up in the morning, I found I had melted the snow down to the ground. More comfort and a bit more insulation are needed.

3. I need warmer boots; these, specifically. My Keen Summit County boots are great for day rides and down to about -20F for a while, but they're not warm enough for camping at -30F. Sure, vapor-barrier socks (1 gal Ziploc freezer bag) work well, but I don't want to mess with them for short rides.

4. I had the big dry sack that holds my sleeping bag strapped down pretty well under the seat, such that it's a real pain to remove. I was able to get it on the bike real tightly in my warm cabin, but knew that it could be a problem in the cold, dark morning. Yep, it was. Stuffing my sleeping bag back in that bag at 30 below while it was strapped to the bike is too challenging. I'm putting the rack back on so I can stuff the bag on the ground, then simply strap the bag to the rack. Much easier and worth the weight of the rack, as things need to be as simple as possible in these temps.

5. I need to find a way to have warm hands when the inside of the poagies are -30F at the start of a ride, i.e., in the morning after camping out. Maybe handwarmers? But both times I've tried them, they've failed; duds. I've lost faith in them and don't want to rely on something working, then get myself in hard times when they don't. Problem being, hands don't produce much heat, so it takes forever (impossible?) to warm up poagies when they're -30F inside. More research & testing needed.

6. For more than one night in temps around zero or below, vapor-barrier clothing for sleeping is a must. My bag was soaking wet when I pulled it out of the stuff sack, after getting back to my cabin. I can't imagine it would keep me warm on a second night in those temps. I figured this would be the case, but wanted to test it to know for sure. Maybe just wear the VBL clothing while riding then get in the bag? And then straight out in the morning? Again, more testing needed.

7. If you sleep next to a tree, it makes for a nice solid object for pushing your foot into cold, hard boots in the morning :)

It's been quite the week...

Although I've been failing to get water for over a week now, I have been super busy & productive, after a nine day stint of hunting, hauling, & processing five caribou, which put every other aspect of life on hold.
(I have a dry cabin, so I have a bunch of five-gallon jugs I take into town and fill them up at the local water station. A quarter gets me about 15 gallons. I'm down to my last two liters, since everything is frozen outside and I can't use summer rainwater for watering my dogs.)

To the post office tomorrow go a pair of skis, bindings, & boots for Sir Lord Prince Jackson Gadamus, III in Nome. He's hard-pressed to find some good ones way out there in Nome, so I looked and found exactly what I recommended he get and exactly what I told him he'd never find used at a good price. Ha. Go figure.
I sold Colby a sweet pair of backcountry skis I scored in hopes of passing them on to a friend looking for some.
Took a much-needed day off work to sleep in and wax my own brand-new used backcountry skis. Awesome. Best decision of the week.
Then, I laughed hysterically, after finally going to the grocery store from perusing my cupboards and finding nothing delectable:



I bike-jored six dogs (two at a time) a total of twenty miles, starting their winter snow runs.
Brushed snow off my car almost every day!!!
Ate delicious caribou dinners with friends a few times.
Enjoyed the warmth from a huge bonfire on a cold, clear winter night with some cold, dark winter beers.
Helped some other friends with a few projects of their own.
Thought of and started planning the biggest solo trip I'll have done so far in life (if all works out - skiing 120 mi off-trail in 6 days).

Re-geared my single speed fatbike and then rode it a bunch on the new snow, which is becoming almost ski-able as I write this.
Worked on continually gear-testing a sweet soft shell jacket (now unfortunately discontinued and hence the reason I got it at half-off price) to do a video review for the local outdoor gear store.
Put some time into the fatbike rental business, as our season is just about to be in full-swing!

And, the real highlight of the week:
For the second year in a row, I snagged the first ascent of the year on Fox Creek, a frozen waterfall in the Alaska Range.
This year, it was barely frozen and I decided to free solo it - climb without ropes or any protection - a way to challenge myself in climbing and put huge emphasis on learning how to properly climb ice in all conditions. Pretty thin ice in spots, with the waterfall still falling in full force, which I traversed across in my climb, getting blasted by falling water like standing in a YMCA shower that is spraying ice cold water.
Fortunately, JR got it all on film, which I'm hoping to post soon, along with more pictures of all the adventures of this crazy past week.

Thanks for tuning in. More to come soon, but for now, here is the best packrafting video ever created:
From Luc Mehl, in Alaska, 2011.



Yes, those 70 balloons are filled with helium, and yes, Paul Schauer packrafted down all that BACKWARDS just to make this video.
Brilliant idea. Cheers to creativity at its finest.

Fatbiking Promotion & Insight to New Riders

Recently, I received an e-mail in our Far North Fatbikes inbox from a nice dude in Montana who is looking to purchase a fatbike, but would rather buy one used and save some money, as they are quite spendy and to make sure he likes it before going all in.
This is my informative, and what turned out to be lengthy, response to his questions regarding where he could find a used bike or just ride one and if we had any other recommendations or advice for a new rider.

You're in a common situation... it's just like packrafts, ice tools, skis, etc... there are very few ways to try the most expensive gear items unless you just choke down the hefty price tag. Very few people ever sell them used, once they own.

Unfortunately, you're down there and we're up here, so rental is out of the question. We don't have any used bikes for sale at the moment, so sorry we can't help out there. 

Good idea to ask, though. I've scored a couple deals on packrafts and other high dollar items the same way.

However, there are tons of people 'Outside' (lower 48) with fatbikes. And, if you're up for a road trip, go to Minnesota and visit the awesome dudes at Surly. They would positively be giddy to outfit you with a fatty. 

If you got on the fatbike forum, you could probably find someone not too far away that would let you take their's out for a spin. Problem is, that is their bike, tricked out (or not) how they like it, not necessarily how you would build one.

As far as how they ride and if you'll like it... just go buy/build one. Don't worry - you won't be disappointed with fatbiking... maybe only with the specific selection of the components you choose. They ride beautifully, rolling over almost anything, floating with their wide footprint, barely leaving a track, unlike normal mtn bike tires that cut through and ruin trails. They are super easy to pedal, very comfortable to ride, and just flat out fun to be on. They make riding a gravel road fun.

The fat tires make it feel like having a snowmobile track in front of you when riding on snow, while their high volume acts like a low-travel dual suspension. I have ridden mine through/on/over: dirt, sand, mud, tussocks, logs, creeks, snow, river beds, etc, etc, etc...

They truly are a whole different machine. It's not really comparable to normal bike tires/wheels, although, it is still a bike, so you can't just ride through the snow next to someone on alpine touring skis in the backcountry. You do need some sort of a trail on snow.

Summertime, I've found sustainable riding to max out on about continuous 5+ inch rocks/tussocks or so. Anything else, outside of bottomless muck, should be ridable, for the most part.

Please watch this video for a better understanding of what fatbikes were designed for and what you can ride on/over/through, etc. Then watch this one to see what you can't ride on/over/through, etc.

I even hook up my four Alaskan huskies and bike-jor with them on the trails here in the winter.

One thing I would recommend - build one. Save up and drop about $2500 and do it right.

There are so many specific recommendations I could make, that I'm not going to, because it all depends what you want to do with your fatty. My Pugsley is fitted with two Larrys on Flattop 100s, lightweight Specialized 26x2.? tubes, platform pedals, carbon riser bars (non-cold-conducting), single speed (22-18), and two BB7s, with a monstrous frame bag (one reason I went with a Pugsley) and rear rack if I'm doing a trip.

BUT, that build is specific for what I do, how I ride, and where I do it. It is not my general recommended build, as someday I'd also like to build another (summer-oriented) fatty on 80s with gears and Surly's new knobby rubber.

Take home message, do a lot of research but take a lot of people's builds with a grain of salt... many don't have a practical, functional reason for their build... they just wanted it to be cool. I think mine is cool cuz it's all dark gray and black with Rolff spoke design on my 100mm wheels (only ones in the world???). That's where cool stops and function begins, like my white platform pedals and how they are easier to see at night when my headlamp shines on them. And recently, I tested the strength of the wheels while riding a rough trail for 14 miles (not like I hadn't done that part yet) and then jumping my bike a few times, all with 55 lbs of gear on it, PLUS me at 175. No problems. There's so much air to soften the hit and those rims are really strong, although they may not look like it, with that custom cheese-grater pattern. 

If you have more questions or want to learn winter/fat biking, I'd love to help.

I'd also take ya for a ride and show/teach ya some stuff if you ever found yourself in Fairbanks.

I hope this helps.

Good luck and happy riding,

Josh

Multi-Sport, Multi-Style.

Normally, my basepack weight of gear for hiking is 12 lbs (everything, including what I wear in clothes, except food & fuel).
In Alaska, that's really light. If I'm packrafting, tack on another 7 or 8. But, apparently, if I'm riding a fatbike into a cabin beside a glacier in Wrangell-St Elias National Park for 4 days, my basepack weight is 43 lbs, not including the 30 lb bike. When there's 43 lbs on a 30 lb bike, I have to man-handle it all to even keep it upright. But, that also means once I have it moving, it wants to keep moving!

The 43 lbs of fun & comfort includes:
-18 lbs in stuff to be comfortable at a backcountry cabin in huge mountains for 3 days & nights
-20 in all the gear needed to go ice climbing on the face of the Kuskulana Glacier for a day
-stuff for biking it all in & out a total of 30 miles
-photographing the whole experience with my heavy DSLR
-and enjoying a little top-shelf Irish whiskey beside a campfire or wood stove
but I guess that last part falls under being 'comfortable at a backcountry cabin.'
Maybe, too, the 12 lbs of food for my dog & I.

It's quite the change of pace from my recent adventures in the Alaska Range & White Mountains, as this trip should have lots of relaxing, wood stove heat, campfires, big mountain & glacier views, old mining ruins, bears, glacial ice climbing (testing out new tools!), changing fall colors, and frost, plus one of my dogs is coming and, of course, the always present quality time with friends.
I'm looking forward to the change of pace & style of adventure. I think it goes well with the rapidly changing season.
Winter is almost here!

And sometimes I bike in sunny weather...

[Alarm]: 'Hey! It's 5:30 am. Get up and go biking.'
[Me]: 'No. Give me a minute to decide what I'm going to do today.'
10 minutes later...
[Alarm]: 'Hey, Lazy. I told you ten minutes ago to GET UP. Do it now.'
[Me]: 'I have the power to end you and I will exercise it NOW! This past week has been exhausting and sleep is a priority.'
7:30 am: Frostbite and River start getting restless (they are sleeping with me on the bed). I take them out and feed them. Back to bed.
10:15 am: Good morning, day. NOW it's time to go biking. 10 hrs of sleep and I feel much better.

Threatening clouds and 80+ degree heat didn't stop me, although I thought about just taking it easy inside my cool cabin.
Nome Creek, here I come.
Driving out, I see this A-hole in a big truck chase a bull moose down the middle of the highway for a quarter of a mile. I remind you, it's 80 degrees. The bull was running down the road and kept doing so because the jerk wouldn't give him space, but kept pressuring him. All he had to do was stop and the moose would have went into the woods. Yeah, moose are dumb. Chase them and they'll just keep running a straight line. Stop and they'll divert from the open path.
Then on the way back down at the end of the day, I see an ATV in the middle of the other lane, riding down a super steep section of the highway (on a big hill/summit), followed by a semi and two other vehicles. WTF was the dude on the ATV thinking?!?! The semi driver was probably so furious - I don't know how he kept control of the semi and didn't run the idiot over. Too bad.

Anyway, I was going biking...

I tried biking up the 'trail' to Mount Prindle, but that didn't turn out so well. It's not much of a trail and was pretty frustrating to bike.
I did learn/have a lesson reinforced (in addition the to previous creek crossing adventures) that clear water streams have slippery rocks, as they are coated in a thin layer of algae. Bike tires don't grip slick, wet rocks too well. So, yeah, I got my feet wet.

From there, I jumped back in the car and drove to the put in for Beaver Creek, then came back up the road and decided to give Table Top Mountain Trail a shot. It's a three mile, straight up, straight down loop (hiking trail), through a burned area, then up to the top of the ridge/mountain.

My car is depicted by the circle, over 2000' below

The day before, I found myself & bike around town & at Chena Lake,
enjoying the beautiful day and relaxing in the sun.

To keep up the sunshine biking trend, I laid some tracks along the Tanana River and got a feel of what it's like to roll a fatty in the mud.
I'm very thankful I taught myself how to ride a perfectly straight line, as it sure helps get me happily dry through places like this (below). In winter, I can ride the track of one cross-country ski.

Another short weekend of catching up on sleep and relaxing in the warm summer sun, while riding the fatbike. Hard to top that.
In the next six weeks, I have two 3-day and two 4-day weekends, which I hope to take the fatbike into the Alaska backcountry and see places like the Wood River, Mount Deborah, the headwaters of the Tok River, the Nenana Glacier, Denali National Park, and a return to Bus 142 on the Stampede Trail.
I'm excited. Time to get ready.