Denali Classic Gravel Grinder 2015

After a less than stellar second cross season and a winter with almost no snow and more ice than ever, I was ready to hit road season. The lack of snow, combined with relatively warm March temperatures meant I could start road riding in March, which translates in more miles than usual for this time of the year. I have also either been doing it smarter or something, because I'm in fairly decent shape, from what I can see on my Strava log.

Anyway, the first long ride of the season was the Palmer Spring Classic brevet. This year I decided to go for the 200k (which being an Alaskan event means the route is longer than claimed, roughly 208 kilometers) Despite not having done any rides longer than 40 miles prior to it this year, I have to say the Spring Classic went really well. I rode with some friends who helped keep me in pace (thanks Nick and Chuk) and the day after I was feeling great.

Since then, more road riding and amazingly a few mountainbike rides. Again, the lack of snow allowed the trails to be dry a couple weeks earlier. This got me to Memorial Day weekend and the Denali Classic Gravel Grinder. For those who don't know, the Denali Classic is a race that happens every year on the Denali Highway here in Alaska. The Denali Highway is a 135 mile, mostly unpaved road between Cantwell and Paxson. To say it is a remote road may be understating it. There is nothing out there with the exception of a couple of lodges and a BLM campground. The race has been happening since 2006 or so, and it historically started at the Brushkana campground on mile 104 and had you go to Maclaren Lodge at mile 42, then go about 6 miles further to climb to the top of Maclaren Pass (elevation 4068ft, highest point in a road in Alaska) where you would turn around and go back to the start at Brushkana. The total mileage was about 135 miles.

Last year I participated on the race. I went all the way to the pass, headed back and about six miles past Maclaren Lodge I had a flat. Long story short, my poor planning relying on a CO2 inflator meant I didn't finish. I was very disappointed. Looking back, the disappointment from it was a very negative influence for the rest of the season.

2014, before the CO2 debacle

This year the organizer (the famous Rio) was able to get the race started at Maclaren Lodge. This meant several things, for starters the route would be obviously reversed. But it also meant a)rooms available instead of sleeping in a tent and b)showers. Did I mention nice, hot, clean showers? Yeah, that was nice. The Maclaren Lodge people were great, friendly and have really good food. Very recommended.

But back to the route change. Because the race now started at Maclaren Lodge, Rio decided to make it a two day stage race. Why? Because why not make it harder? The first stage, to happen on May 23rd was 125 miles, travelling from the lodge to Brushkana and back. The second stage, to happen on Sunday the 24th was to go from the lodge to the edge of pavement (roguhly 21 miles away) and back for a total of 42 miles. This second stage would start with the seven mile long climb to the top of Maclaren Pass.

Friday the 22nd came and we traveled to Maclaren Lodge. The trip was uneventful, but long. Even with that, the kids didn't complain too much. Like I said earlier, I felt in good shape I felt ready. But there was a catch. The temperature was forecasted to be in the 80s F. Yes, you read right 80 degree F weather in May on the Denali Highway. AS we drove there it was clear the forecast was right, not a cloud in the sky and the car thermometer read in the 80s until almost 8pm. At this point I should mention that after ten years living in Anchorage, I don't do well in the heat. Last year's Soggy Bottom made that very, very clear to me. So 80 degrees was not good news for me. It was actually bad news, and had me a bit stressed to be honest.

After settling in Friday, and seating at the lodge restaurant I asked the organizer what time were we starting Saturday. He said 10 am I said, nope. I'm leaving at 8 at the latest. Why? To cover as much ground as I can before it gets too hot. Most of the people doing the race had a similar idea and we settled for "I'll be up at six, let me know when you leave" Which is not a surprising answer from Rio, but that's another story.

The two guys I rode with last year, P and Z had the brilliant idea of doing the two stages on one day. Even if Z had been sick as dog the whole week before. They are that kind of guys. I was tempted to go with them, they are fun to ride with, but on the other hand I wanted to finish the Denali Classic. I wanted to do what I couldn't last year. So I decided to go on my own and leave at 7am.

7am came and, without a cloud in the sky and temperatures already in the upper 50s, off I went.

At this point I had devised an strategy: cover as much ground as I can before it gets hot, and then keep going as slow as I have to. This translated to a mad sprint to the turnaround at Brushkana and crawling back to the lodge. How mad was the sprint you ask? 4 hours and 10 minutes for those first 62 miles. Two guys also on the course started about an hour before me and didn't make it to the campground until at least 30 minutes after me. Yes, I'm bragging. But damn it, it was fast. And yes, Brushkana is at a lower elevation than the lodge so you are generally shedding elevation. But there are still some very big climbs as you can see on my Strava Log However, the "devil may care" attitude on the descents came with a price. I usually ride my cross bike with no gloves, and that day was not an exception. But the combination of fast descents on a very rough gravel road (seriously, there are mountainbike trails that are smoother) and all the dust resulted in some serious blisters on the bottom of my hands.

Those blisters would become more and more painful as the day went on.

But lets get back to Brushkana. I got there at about 11:10 or so. The wife of one of the racers had been kind enough to drive there and carry stuff for us, in my case water. Not only that but she also had a chair where I could seat for a few minutes in the shade. I can't thank her enough. After that I took off, only to find a headwind that would stay with me for the rest of the day. At this point the temperature was already hovering near 80, and I swear you can see my speed drop on the GPS log as the temperature goes up. Because it was so hot (at least hot by my standards) the headwind actually felt nice, it helped cool me down. But there is no denying the effect of a headwind. It isn't pleasant. To make matters worse, the road was very dry and some sections of sand were extremely soft. At some point I was pedaling through the deep sand, uphill and with a headwind. I know, poor me.

From the turnaround it is about 35 miles or so to the Matanuska River Bridge. All the way from the campground, I was planning on dunking my head in the cold river and washing off some of the sweat and dust. That kept me going through some of the nastier climbs out. When I got to the bridge I did wash my face, but there were these two characters there with an RV... They were very friendly, but, well... I didn't quite hear banjos but I didn't feel comfortable in my tight shorts if you know what I mean.

The climb out of the river was done in full heat. My Garmin 500 registered a temperature of 85 to 88 degrees all the way. It was painful for me. Like I said, the heat is not my friend. I shot down and have a hard time keeping going. But I did, I kept crawling my way back up. At some point I stopped to get in the shade of some alder bushes, because I just had to cool down. While I was stopped P passed on the way down, he had already gone to the top of the pass and was headed to Brushkana to do the whole 167 miles. Z had to stop after the first 42 miles,keep in mind the guy was coughing up a lung the whole week before. After talking with P I kept up. Got the Alpine Creek Lodge (roughly 25 miles from the end) where I had planned to stop and get a cold Coke and fill up my water bottles. But I looked at my time and saw that it was still possible for me to finish in less than 11 hours if I didn't stop. So I kept going. As I crested the climb, the wind picked up. What had been an annoying but at least cooling headwind became a viciously strong head or crosswind. It was reported that the gusts reached 30mph, and I believe it. There were instances of downshifting to maintain 12mph on a downhill, and times when the crosswind almost blew me off the bike.

About five miles from the end another racer (JJ) caught up with me -I should mention that because of the "start when you want" and my mad sprint on the first half I spent the first 120 miles or so riding by myself ahead of the rest of the pack. I told JJ I was surprised he hadn't caught up earlier (I had been crawling, really) and he said "lets ride together to the end." His pulling and just having company made those last miles a lot more pleasant and fast. And at some point, due to a weird turn of the road we even had a tailwind for about a quarter mile!

At about 5:45, ten hours and forty five minutes after leaving I was done. Sorry, no pictures of my finish because I actually got there too fast. Some of the sag cars that had picked up racers that bailed out had reported when they saw me, and people had predicted me back no earlier than six. Of all the reasons to not have pictures, being too fast is a pretty good one.

So I was done with day one. The blisters on my hands were sending needles every time I was on the hoods. I felt exhausted, I was mildly dehydrated and not quite ready to do any riding the day after. At this point several of the racers had dropped off, JJ was not going to do Sunday's stage and it seemed that I may be the only one even considering it. And what I was considering was not doing it. I couldn't do it, mentally I was done. A warm shower, a delicious dinner, beer... none of it changed my mind: I simply could not do it. My hands hurt too much. In the end I decided to go to bed and see how I felt in the morning. My wife and kids were superawesomely supportive and played along.

I fell asleep before 9pm. P would finish his crazy, mostly solo 167 miles around midnight for a total time of 17 hours and change. Amazing. Sunday I woke up around 7am, and begrudgingly got ready to ride. I did not want to do it. But I also didn't want to give up. I wanted to finish, and at least there were some clouds so it shouldn't be that hot. At 7:15 I took off.

The race director wasn't there to check me out, I didn't care. I didn't want to do this. But I had to. I had to finish. As I rolled out I told my wife to expect me back in five hours, or six. I felt weak, I felt defeated. My body had taken a beating in the heat the day before and my mind was crushed. I started up the long climb which I knew would continue for six or seven miles. About half a mile in the pain in my hands was unbearable. That was it. I could not keep going. I turned around and started down the hill. Screw it. It wasn't fun anymore. I wanted to quit, accept my failure for another year and go home.

But I didn't. I forced myself to calm down. I forced myself to put on some gloves and at least try. And I turned around, started up the hill again. Slowly crawled my way up. Granny gear on, one slow mile at a time. Just ride one more mile. And then just ride to the sign at the top of the pass. Just to say you climbed that. No matter how embarrassingly slow, you will get to the top. So swallow your pride and keep going. Slowly my legs felt better, I was able to find a hand position that was at least bearable. And I made it to the top of the pass. From then it was mostly downhill to the turnaround point. I knew all those downhills would be uphills on the way back, but I knew that I could do it. I knew it wasn't going to be fast but I didn't care anymore. I was going to finish. I got to the turnaround point in pretty good spirits. I even got a message on my cell from a friend congratulating me for my performance the day before, which was quite a surprise because there really isn't much cell coverage in this remote area. I stopped and ate a snack at the turnaround point and headed back. I was slow on the climb, but looking forward to the sweet six mile descent into the finish line. On the way back I passed another racer who must have started after me. I was smiling, I was happy, I was going to finish. The top of the pass came quicker than I thought it would. And then six plus miles of downhill, yes it was bumpy and my hands hurt but it was still fun!

At about 11 am, 3:45 minutes after starting I crossed the finish line. I once again surprised my wife, who didn't expect me back so soon. But this time she did manage to run out and take a picture of me.

Inside the restaurant, the race director informed me that not only had I finished, I was the winner! Of only four people to complete both stages I was the fastest, by several hours. I still feel that P was the winner of the weekend because he did it all in one day. But people keep telling me I won. At some point I may start believing it. I do know that I defeated some of my demons Sunday morning. And that was my biggest victory.