I can sum this race up in one word, Awesome! This is only my second year of endurance racing but I have completed some rather challenging epic’s and this one had all the elements of a good time

I found out about it while planning a hiking trip to the Kenai peninsula last year and quickly changed my plans to try this race instead. As race day got closer, I begin to gather statistics regarding the route, elevation gain, actual distance, terrain ect ect. The 10,800 climbing didn’t seem too bad for the 109 mile distance and I thought it wouldn’t be terribly difficult. Unfortunately, this relief mindset also crept into my training and I slacked off on the base miles big time the last few months before departing.

Upon arrival in Alaska, I visited a local bike shop and spoke with a guy who had completed the race his first time in under 12 hours. He gave me some really great insight and the skinny on the trails. I figured 12 hours would be ample to complete this, it’s only 100 miles. Looking around the mountainous landscape while I was driving to Hope, Alaska where the race starts and ends, the meaning of “unsupported” really begin to sink in. If you breakdown en-route to one of the two check points, there is a good chance you’ll have a looooong walk ahead of you. Thoughts of wrecks, bears and getting lost in the back country plagued my thoughts that evening and I got very little sleep the night before the race.

Why can’t all races start at 9am? Most of the races I’ve done start ridiculously early, 5am or 6am, 9am is definately a respectable hour to set out on this kind of journey all caffeinated and ready to go.

All fifteen riders lined up in front of the Seaview bar and awaited the announcement to go. Upon commencement, two distinct groups formed and a gap grew between them. Not really knowing what to expect, I fell into the second group and just casually peddled along listening to a chorus of bear bells jingling. The route started out on a flat gravel road for 5 miles which led to a small bridge which marks the Ressurection trail head. The first 10 or so miles of the singletrack trail were well used and follow a river in a cool pine forest. The group of riders I was in begin to stretch out and I realized that I would not be keeping up with first two guys in the group who quickly dropped me. By mile 17, I begin to have leg cramps and more folks passed by. I couldn’t believe it, although I had been climbing for over an hour, the climb was very gradual and I had completed much worse at home in the heat without cramping. I stopped and stretched, took some ecaps, and drank some water at one of the many creek crossings. I hung out there for I don’t know how long and just spaced out on where I was and took in my surroundings. It was a surreal experience, much like some of my first mountain bike trips many years ago. The cramps subsided and I continued on.

A few miles later and the trail climbed out of the trees and into an exposed valley. I was surrounded by towering peaks on both sides and my spacing out “problem” got even worse. You could see a long way yet it all seemed so close. I blissfully forgot I was in a race and my pace slowed down considerably as I pondered all sorts of crazy things. The sustained climbing soon ended at Ressurection pass and then came the loose, rocky, shale descent. Luckily my spacing out subsided long enough for me to concentrate on the trail. It narrowed considerably and in many spots was fairly overgrown. Every once in a while my foot would strike a hidden rock which would send shock waves of pain up my leg. Overall, the descent was really fun and I enjoyed the sight of snow patches and the pristine alpine lakes around me in the 60 something degree weather.

After a few switchbacks, the trail settled back into a densely vegetated terrain and the rockiness smoothed out. I do remember a fairly technical rocky downhill section that was brief but adrenaline producing. After that section, there was a picturesque 2 or 3 miles right beside a lake. I stopped there as well and ate. No photo of that lake with the mountain backdrop would do it justice. I would have been content to have just stayed there the rest of the day and fish. My break ended and I got back to work navigating the trail, attempting to avoid the whip of the blister producing plants that dangled at neck height. All I could smell was fresh vegetation and there were so many shades of green. Soon I could hear the Sterling highway and the roar of a river to my left. Without warning, the first check station appeared in front of me.

My bike had been having shifting issues the last 20 miles and I was genuinely concerned that my chain would break on the way to the next check station. Another rider and the race promoter tried several fixes to cure it’s ails but we never did resolve it. I just conceded to find a comfortable gear and stick to it for the remainder of the race.

20 minutes later and 40 miles into the race, I left the check station and began the backtrack to the last check point 30 miles away. I felt revived from my break and picked up my pace as I knew I would be climbing for a while. This quickly ended after passing the serene lake section and getting to the technical rocky section I had descended hours before. The guy at the bike shop said the whole trail was rideable but after falling down twice on rocks, I felt no shame in walking up the section.

The remainder of the 15 or 20 mile climb up to Devils Pass trailhead went by relatively uneventfully and I was happy to see the Devil’s pass cabin signalling the start of a 10 mile descent. The leader of the race was already finishing the climb up the pass that I was about to descend. He didn’t even look winded, on a single speed no less! The beginning of the trail was exposed and gradual. I was just starting to enjoy the break from the climb as I coasted along for several miles. This quickly ended as the descent grade increased and the terrain became extremely rocky. In several spots it was pretty much all jagged, wet, rock with a drop off on one side. I bounced, slipped, and slid around on these sections and my hands began to ache from white knuckling the brakes. Several riders from the first group passed me climbing up as I descended. I envied them as I was fairly rattled from the rough rocky descent and generally prefer a nice steep climb over a bone rattling downhill.

The lush greeness of it reminded me of central america. I half expected to see a smiling Juan Valdez coming up the trail leading his mule with fresh coffee. No such luck. Toward the bottom of the trail, the rocks became less frequent and the descent alternated with short climbs. I got too comfortable again and inexplicably wiped out descending a short hill. I have no idea what happened I just suddenly found myself on the ground entangled in my bike. Shortly after, I arrived at the last check point.

I knew I would have to climb the 10 miles I just descended and I was worried about my energy level and how long it would take. Even though I had my light, I really did not want to find myself riding through an unfamiliar forest at night in bear country so I kept my break under 10 minutes and started the climb up with as much energy as I could. It went went by more quickly then I thought it would even though I chose to walk a few of the really rocky sections and stopped to soak my battered feet in a crystal clear, snowmelt fed creek. The sight of Devil’s pass cabin again brought a smile to my face as I knew it was 20 miles of easy downhill to the finish.

The easy downhill soon became torturous to my backside as every rock, root, and bump reminded me that I ride a hardtail and my seat sucks. The trail wound down back into the trees and the lack of light under the canopy hastened my pace. It seemed like it was going to get dark any minute and my eyes began to play tricks on me. The only “bear” I saw turned out to be a burned stump. I must have looked like an idiot, standing in the middle of the trail, feverishly shaking my bear bell waiting for the stump to run into the woods.

Familiar landmarks from the morning became evident and I knew I was getting close to the bridge. It was pretty much dusk when I got to the bridge and I carefully switched to the big ring and powered down the road to the finish and more importantly, bar.

Aside from an extremely sore butt and a few bruises, I finished in one piece, 13.5 hours after I started. So much for the easy 12 hour completion initially envisioned. The winner completed it in an inhuman time of 9.5 hours on a singlespeed.

This was one of the most memorable, scenic, challenging, and fun epic rides I have ever done and I will definately be returning to better my time. A big thank you to Carlos the race promoter and Banjo Brothers , the generous sponsors. I learned quite a bit from this experience, mainly:

Alaskan riders are phenomenal competitors.
I’ll never equate ride difficulty soley on the statistics to again.
Any race that starts and ends at a bar is worth doing. BEER!! Now that’s motivation.
Incredible scenery can be overwhelmingly distracting.
Riding in 60 degree weather rocks.
Although it’s 100 miles in the back country, you can’t get lost, just follow the trail and never turn left

When planning your race calendar for next year, definately consider making the trip up. You will not regret it.
http://www.aksoggybottom100.com/