The 2011 edition edition of the Trans Wisconsin turned out to be kind of a bust. Initially there were only about 10 on the start list and ya know some of them are going to be no shows. And than at the last minute the race director calls in sick, says he won't be there. Well I made some last mionute changes to. The race cource was 420 miles long and it was a point to point race with 150 miles between the start and finish. My initial plan was to start the race at the designated start point, ride the course and than continue the 150 miles back to the start line, which would have made for a total of 570 miles. Quite a haul and I was having my doubts about it. So at the last minute after taking the crappy weather forecast into account I decided to drive to Hayward (the designated finish point) and start my ride there heading south and east to pick the designated route south of highwat 8 near ladysmith WI. So thats how it started.
Day 1 Started in Hayward at 8AM and went south down thru the res. Missed a turn and stopped and talked to another biker and he suggested a different route than thru the res so I took his suggestion and went a little futher west. Had a good day picking my route as I went. Hit a long section of the Tuscobia trail which was pretty nice. Stopped for lunch at a bar in Coudrey. Made it all the way to Hawkins WI by 8PM and found a nice Lions park to camp in complete with a picnic shelter which I camped under with a convience store near by. 122 miles.
Day 2 It rained a lot during during the night and into the morning so I wasn't in a big hurry to get going. Left Hawkins at 9AM and only had a few miles to go to pick up the route. At the point I picked up the route I would have been about even on mileage as those who had started at the designated start point. The route was nice some slight changes from last year. I was a little leary about going up the dead end Skinner Creek Rd but went anyhow and it turned out ok. Turning into some nice double track. The next time it didn't go so well. Again I followed the route up the Up River Rd another dead end except this time I coulden't find the trail out of there ending up making a big circle following some old skidder trails, and came out back where I had started. Wasting about an hour. Found a detour around that mess. Continued up thru Clam Lake and had a meal there. And than Continued on to Grandview Wi. by 8PM found another park with a nice picnic shelter and stayed there for the night. 108 miles.
Day 3 It rained again during the night and was cold. I think I made a mistake sleeping on the concrete floor of the picnic shelter I should have slept on top of the picnic tables, would have been warmer. That cold concrete seemed to suck the warmth out of me all night. Light rain as I left Grandview and cool. Went up to Washburn WI by a little after noon. Weather wasn't getting any warmer or drier. At this point while sitting in a DQ eating lunch I decided to turn back and try to get back to Hayward before dark. I pretty much retraced my route back to Grandview and than pick my route as I went back to Hayward. Reached Hayward by 7PM. Saw lots of deer a bear crossed the road in front of me, lots of turtles. Everytime I crossed a creek you could see all kinds of places where turtles had dug holes to lay eggs and in some places where other animals had dug up the nest of eggs. At one point I startled a mother duck and her bunch of chicks alongside the road and some of the chicks took flight only they coulden't fly very fast and were flying right along side of me for a couple of seconds I remimded me of Harry Potter and the Quidch game I could have reached out and grabbed one of those chicks that looked kinda like a quidich. Well have to see what happens to next years edition of the Trans WI. It would be so much easier if It was a circle route. One of these years the weather has got to be nice.
Jun 20, 2011
Mar 5, 2011
Another article this time from the St Paul pioneer press Agaim mostly about biking
Whether they bike, ski or run, Arrowhead 135 ultramarathoners are more likely than not to give in to the elements and end the race before it ends them.
By Richard Chin
rchin@pioneerpress.com
Updated: 02/17/2011 01:38:02 PM CST
Runners dragging sleds hit the trail in predawn International Falls at the start of the Arrowhead 135, a race in which cyclists, runners and skiers have 60 hours to travel 135 miles on a snowmobile trail. It was 10 below zero. (Photo: Julia Bohnen)Two wheels. One hundred and thirty-five miles. Negative 27 degrees Fahrenheit.
That sums up how I spent nearly a day and a half in the dead of winter at one of the coldest places in the country a few weeks ago.
The ordeal is called the Arrowhead 135, a winter wilderness ultramarathon in which competitors try to bike, ski or run 135 miles along a hilly snowmobile trail from International Falls to Tower, Minn., largely without help.
In other words, competitors have to race while hauling gear and supplies including a headlamp, stove, fuel, food, tent or bivouac sack, a sleeping pad, a sleeping bag and a whistle on a string around their necks to call for help "because your mouth is too numb to yell."
Racers have 60 hours to get to the finish line, and most don't make it in time, give up or are disqualified or pulled from the race by its organizers because of frostbite or hypothermia.
This frigid sufferfest was created in 2005 by former White Bear Lake resident and ultramathoner Pierre Ostor, who thought the world could use a winter counterpart to the Badwater Ultramarathon, a 135-mile footrace across Death Valley every July.
I covered the first Arrowhead 135 for the Pioneer Press, when only 10 people started and five finished.
I never thought I'd actually take part until my friend Mike told me last fall that someone he knew was offering to sell him a Pugsley bicycle frame for a good price.
A Pugsley, made by a local bike
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Advertisement
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
company called Surly, can accommodate cartoonishly wide tires designed to roll over mushy terrain. You could use it to cruise over a frozen lake or navigate a snow-covered mountain bike trail.
Pugsleys and similar bikes have become the vehicles of choice at the Arrowhead 135.
Mike and I disagree on who first suggested doing the race. But I decided that if he were going to do it, I would have to keep him company. "As long as I don't have to get into a sleeping bag with you," I told him.
By early December, I had my own snowbike, a new offering in the fat-tire niche called the Salsa Mukluk. Then, I spent the next seven weeks figuring out what I had to do to get me through this thing.
The Arrowhead 135 is one of those endeavors that seem to have a small margin for error, where just one mistake or mishap can knock you out of the race.
BRUTAL CONDITIONS
Temperatures during the race typically drop to minus 20 or colder, making bearing grease thick and sluggish and turning plastic parts and fingers and toes brittle and prone to snapping.
A flat tire or a broken chain that would be easy to fix during a summer ride might be impossible to deal with if your hands are
With temperatures dropping to nearly 30 below zero, cyclist Richard Chin resorted to goggles, face masks and moleskin to ward off frostbite. (Pioneer Press: Richard Chin)frozen.
And who knows what body part will give out after dozens of hours of pedaling? Until a couple months before the race, my biking experience had mainly been limited to an occasional three-mile commute to work.
I had to figure a way to carry water and food that wouldn't freeze solid. I needed to be able to dress to stay warm enough, but not too warm. If you sweat too much and soak your clothing, you can get dangerously cold as soon as you stop moving.
The critical areas would be the head, hands and feet. I decided that even pricey winter bike shoes wouldn't be warm enough. Instead I got winter boots rated for minus-30 temperatures in the biggest size I could find, size 14, so I could wear extra socks.
I outfitted my bike with pogies, oversized mitts that encase the ends of the handlebars and serve as kind of an insulated garage for your hands.
I took several hats, balaclavas, a neoprene facemask, goggles and moleskin to cover my nose and cheeks.
And I worried.
In the days before the start, International Falls had a record low of minus 46. There was also 6 inches of new snow, which could turn the trail into a soft, endless slog.
But at the race start at 7 a.m. on the last day of January, temperatures were a relatively balmy minus 10. There was little wind, and the trail surface was firm and fast.
Before organizers let you into the race, you have to submit an application describing your past experience in winter
Why are we doing this? Richard Chin, left, and Mike Carlson faced hours and hours of riding before reaching the warmth of a checkpoint in the race. (Photo: Julia Bohnen)conditions and ultra-endurance events.
The 118 competitors on the starting line included some of the best winter athletes in the world, according to race organizers. There were ultra-bikers from Alaska and ultra-runners from Spain, Canada and Bolivia. There were a couple of U.S. Naval Academy midshipmen, a guy who had trekked to the North Pole, South Pole and Mount Everest in a single year and a former Wisconsin Wife Carrying champion.
Mike and I positioned ourselves at the back of the pack of the 58 bikers.
We planned on a conservative pace — an average of about 5 miles an hour, not much faster than walking — to make sure we got to the finish line.
Maybe we were a little too conservative. Within a few miles, after stopping several times to make adjustments to clothes and trying to get the right amount of pressure in our tires, we found ourselves being passed by a runner from Brazil as he trotted along dragging a sled full of his gear.
But we eventually sorted ourselves out, passed the runner and caught some of the slower bikers. Some of the cyclists had taken to walking, apparently in an effort to warm up their feet.
People were dropping out of the race even before the first sunset. We heard that one biker started the race with regular bike shoes and lasted six miles. Another had two flats, but had only one spare tube.
MIND-NUMBING COLD
Except for the volunteer rescue snowmobiles monitoring the race, there was little traffic on the trail. There was, how-ever, a lot of wintry scenery: miles of frozen landscape and towering evergreen trees, heavily laden with snow, that lined the trail.
After about 40 miles, we pulled off at the first checkpoint of the race, the Gateway General Store near Kabetogama Lake.
There's one big exception to the race requirement that competitors be self-sufficient. Racers are allowed and even encouraged to warm up and to purchase food, goods and services at each of the three checkpoints on the race.
The guys who aim to win the thing barely stop, but we spent an hour eating and drying our clothes at Gateway.
Back on the trail, Mike announced that a part of his body had gotten numb. Not from the cold but from the pressure of being on his bike seat all day. Isn't it nice that you can share that with a friend?
The sun went down, temperatures dropped and we slogged through the pitch black, moonless night.
Late that night, we figured we were about a mile from Elephant Lake and the midpoint checkpoint, MelGeorge's Resort, when we came upon a curious sight.
A cyclist was sitting in his sleeping bag in the snowdrifts on the side of the trail. He was just a few minutes from warmth and food at the MelGeorge's checkpoint. Why did he stop here?
He told us he was soaked with sweat and he couldn't get warm even though he put on all his clothes. So, he decided to stop and get into his sleeping bag. He also said he was seeing snakes on the trail.
We tore open some large chemical hand warmers I had brought and told him to hold those against his torso. Then we headed to the checkpoint to send back some help. In about a half-mile, while we were crossing Elephant Lake, we met Mike's girlfriend, Julia, and another friend, Molly, who were waiting to see us arrive at MelGeorge's.
They went back to check on the biker and got him to start walking down the trail to the resort while we went ahead to inform the race officials. Eventually, a snowmobile showed up to take him the rest of the way.
MECHANICAL BREAKDOWN
Racers in various degrees of exhaustion were sprawled in the warm cabin that served as the checkpoint headquarters. Julia later told us that all those bodies created an unholy stink, but I didn't notice a thing.
Mike and I wolfed down a pizza and a beer in the bar and got a few hours of sleep at one of the rooms at the resort.
We heard various reports of how cold it was when we started out before sunrise Tuesday morning: minus 27, minus 29, minus 41.
We were still feeling pretty good physically when at about 80 miles into the course Mike's bike succumbed to the cold.
His freewheel hub, the part that turns the back wheel when you pedal and lets it spin when you coast, was freezing up. We later learned this is a problem because freewheels aren't normally prepared with a grease that can cope with extreme cold.
But at the time, we couldn't figure out a way to fix it on the trail. Mike decided he would have to drop out and get a lift back. I pushed on without him, hoping my freewheel wouldn't be next.
The next 30 miles turned out to be the hilliest part of the race. Several climbs were so steep I had to get off the bike and push it. I saw a few other racers and then started seeing some snowmobiles.
At the pre-race briefing, a DNR officer had warned us to keep our ears open for snowmobilers. They have the right of way, and racers needed to keep to the right side of the trail, he said. The tracks we had been following for the past day, however, wandered on both sides of the trail as racers tried to find the firmest snow.
Happily, I was on the right side when I suddenly heard a whine and looked up just in time to see a snowmobile tear by at about 50 miles an hour.
The sun came out, the day slowly warmed up and by mid-afternoon, I rolled in to the last checkpoint, the Crescent Bar & Grill near Cook.
After about an hour there drinking colas and eating french fries, I hit the home stretch, about 25 miles of flat trail to the finish line at the Fortune Bay casino.
My bike computer had conked out due to the cold, so I didn't know how fast I was going or how far I had gone. But I must have been in a hurry to get the thing over with. I passed a couple of riders and before I knew it, I saw a big building looming in the twilight.
I hit the finish line, 34 hours and 32 minutes after I started.
About an hour later, I was hitting the buffet at the casino. For the past day and a half, I had been eating brownies and peanut butter and jelly, fried egg and turkey and roast beef sandwiches that I tried to keep from freezing by stuffing them in my pockets.
At the casino restaurant, I managed only one beer, but I ate ribs, fried chicken, steak, roast beef, salmon and cherry pie.
I also got a nice little trophy given out to finishers. According to the race website, they had only 100 on hand, but they still expected to have enough left over for next year.
The winner in the bike category, Alaskan Jeff Oatley, nearly got a course record with a time of 15 hours, 50 minutes. But 19 of the 58 bikers who started didn't finish.
Hastings resident John Storkamp won the running division for the third time with a time of 44 hours, 32 minutes. But 36 of the 54 runners didn't finish. None of the six skiers in the race finished.
Race director Dave Pramann said the extreme cold made the snow so slow that some of the skiers resorted to taking off their skis and trying to hike the trail.
But Pramann said he was glad that at least no one had to go to the hospital during this year's race. That hasn't been the case in past years.
Richard Chin can be reached at 651-228-5560.
By Richard Chin
rchin@pioneerpress.com
Updated: 02/17/2011 01:38:02 PM CST
Runners dragging sleds hit the trail in predawn International Falls at the start of the Arrowhead 135, a race in which cyclists, runners and skiers have 60 hours to travel 135 miles on a snowmobile trail. It was 10 below zero. (Photo: Julia Bohnen)Two wheels. One hundred and thirty-five miles. Negative 27 degrees Fahrenheit.
That sums up how I spent nearly a day and a half in the dead of winter at one of the coldest places in the country a few weeks ago.
The ordeal is called the Arrowhead 135, a winter wilderness ultramarathon in which competitors try to bike, ski or run 135 miles along a hilly snowmobile trail from International Falls to Tower, Minn., largely without help.
In other words, competitors have to race while hauling gear and supplies including a headlamp, stove, fuel, food, tent or bivouac sack, a sleeping pad, a sleeping bag and a whistle on a string around their necks to call for help "because your mouth is too numb to yell."
Racers have 60 hours to get to the finish line, and most don't make it in time, give up or are disqualified or pulled from the race by its organizers because of frostbite or hypothermia.
This frigid sufferfest was created in 2005 by former White Bear Lake resident and ultramathoner Pierre Ostor, who thought the world could use a winter counterpart to the Badwater Ultramarathon, a 135-mile footrace across Death Valley every July.
I covered the first Arrowhead 135 for the Pioneer Press, when only 10 people started and five finished.
I never thought I'd actually take part until my friend Mike told me last fall that someone he knew was offering to sell him a Pugsley bicycle frame for a good price.
A Pugsley, made by a local bike
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Advertisement
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
company called Surly, can accommodate cartoonishly wide tires designed to roll over mushy terrain. You could use it to cruise over a frozen lake or navigate a snow-covered mountain bike trail.
Pugsleys and similar bikes have become the vehicles of choice at the Arrowhead 135.
Mike and I disagree on who first suggested doing the race. But I decided that if he were going to do it, I would have to keep him company. "As long as I don't have to get into a sleeping bag with you," I told him.
By early December, I had my own snowbike, a new offering in the fat-tire niche called the Salsa Mukluk. Then, I spent the next seven weeks figuring out what I had to do to get me through this thing.
The Arrowhead 135 is one of those endeavors that seem to have a small margin for error, where just one mistake or mishap can knock you out of the race.
BRUTAL CONDITIONS
Temperatures during the race typically drop to minus 20 or colder, making bearing grease thick and sluggish and turning plastic parts and fingers and toes brittle and prone to snapping.
A flat tire or a broken chain that would be easy to fix during a summer ride might be impossible to deal with if your hands are
With temperatures dropping to nearly 30 below zero, cyclist Richard Chin resorted to goggles, face masks and moleskin to ward off frostbite. (Pioneer Press: Richard Chin)frozen.
And who knows what body part will give out after dozens of hours of pedaling? Until a couple months before the race, my biking experience had mainly been limited to an occasional three-mile commute to work.
I had to figure a way to carry water and food that wouldn't freeze solid. I needed to be able to dress to stay warm enough, but not too warm. If you sweat too much and soak your clothing, you can get dangerously cold as soon as you stop moving.
The critical areas would be the head, hands and feet. I decided that even pricey winter bike shoes wouldn't be warm enough. Instead I got winter boots rated for minus-30 temperatures in the biggest size I could find, size 14, so I could wear extra socks.
I outfitted my bike with pogies, oversized mitts that encase the ends of the handlebars and serve as kind of an insulated garage for your hands.
I took several hats, balaclavas, a neoprene facemask, goggles and moleskin to cover my nose and cheeks.
And I worried.
In the days before the start, International Falls had a record low of minus 46. There was also 6 inches of new snow, which could turn the trail into a soft, endless slog.
But at the race start at 7 a.m. on the last day of January, temperatures were a relatively balmy minus 10. There was little wind, and the trail surface was firm and fast.
Before organizers let you into the race, you have to submit an application describing your past experience in winter
Why are we doing this? Richard Chin, left, and Mike Carlson faced hours and hours of riding before reaching the warmth of a checkpoint in the race. (Photo: Julia Bohnen)conditions and ultra-endurance events.
The 118 competitors on the starting line included some of the best winter athletes in the world, according to race organizers. There were ultra-bikers from Alaska and ultra-runners from Spain, Canada and Bolivia. There were a couple of U.S. Naval Academy midshipmen, a guy who had trekked to the North Pole, South Pole and Mount Everest in a single year and a former Wisconsin Wife Carrying champion.
Mike and I positioned ourselves at the back of the pack of the 58 bikers.
We planned on a conservative pace — an average of about 5 miles an hour, not much faster than walking — to make sure we got to the finish line.
Maybe we were a little too conservative. Within a few miles, after stopping several times to make adjustments to clothes and trying to get the right amount of pressure in our tires, we found ourselves being passed by a runner from Brazil as he trotted along dragging a sled full of his gear.
But we eventually sorted ourselves out, passed the runner and caught some of the slower bikers. Some of the cyclists had taken to walking, apparently in an effort to warm up their feet.
People were dropping out of the race even before the first sunset. We heard that one biker started the race with regular bike shoes and lasted six miles. Another had two flats, but had only one spare tube.
MIND-NUMBING COLD
Except for the volunteer rescue snowmobiles monitoring the race, there was little traffic on the trail. There was, how-ever, a lot of wintry scenery: miles of frozen landscape and towering evergreen trees, heavily laden with snow, that lined the trail.
After about 40 miles, we pulled off at the first checkpoint of the race, the Gateway General Store near Kabetogama Lake.
There's one big exception to the race requirement that competitors be self-sufficient. Racers are allowed and even encouraged to warm up and to purchase food, goods and services at each of the three checkpoints on the race.
The guys who aim to win the thing barely stop, but we spent an hour eating and drying our clothes at Gateway.
Back on the trail, Mike announced that a part of his body had gotten numb. Not from the cold but from the pressure of being on his bike seat all day. Isn't it nice that you can share that with a friend?
The sun went down, temperatures dropped and we slogged through the pitch black, moonless night.
Late that night, we figured we were about a mile from Elephant Lake and the midpoint checkpoint, MelGeorge's Resort, when we came upon a curious sight.
A cyclist was sitting in his sleeping bag in the snowdrifts on the side of the trail. He was just a few minutes from warmth and food at the MelGeorge's checkpoint. Why did he stop here?
He told us he was soaked with sweat and he couldn't get warm even though he put on all his clothes. So, he decided to stop and get into his sleeping bag. He also said he was seeing snakes on the trail.
We tore open some large chemical hand warmers I had brought and told him to hold those against his torso. Then we headed to the checkpoint to send back some help. In about a half-mile, while we were crossing Elephant Lake, we met Mike's girlfriend, Julia, and another friend, Molly, who were waiting to see us arrive at MelGeorge's.
They went back to check on the biker and got him to start walking down the trail to the resort while we went ahead to inform the race officials. Eventually, a snowmobile showed up to take him the rest of the way.
MECHANICAL BREAKDOWN
Racers in various degrees of exhaustion were sprawled in the warm cabin that served as the checkpoint headquarters. Julia later told us that all those bodies created an unholy stink, but I didn't notice a thing.
Mike and I wolfed down a pizza and a beer in the bar and got a few hours of sleep at one of the rooms at the resort.
We heard various reports of how cold it was when we started out before sunrise Tuesday morning: minus 27, minus 29, minus 41.
We were still feeling pretty good physically when at about 80 miles into the course Mike's bike succumbed to the cold.
His freewheel hub, the part that turns the back wheel when you pedal and lets it spin when you coast, was freezing up. We later learned this is a problem because freewheels aren't normally prepared with a grease that can cope with extreme cold.
But at the time, we couldn't figure out a way to fix it on the trail. Mike decided he would have to drop out and get a lift back. I pushed on without him, hoping my freewheel wouldn't be next.
The next 30 miles turned out to be the hilliest part of the race. Several climbs were so steep I had to get off the bike and push it. I saw a few other racers and then started seeing some snowmobiles.
At the pre-race briefing, a DNR officer had warned us to keep our ears open for snowmobilers. They have the right of way, and racers needed to keep to the right side of the trail, he said. The tracks we had been following for the past day, however, wandered on both sides of the trail as racers tried to find the firmest snow.
Happily, I was on the right side when I suddenly heard a whine and looked up just in time to see a snowmobile tear by at about 50 miles an hour.
The sun came out, the day slowly warmed up and by mid-afternoon, I rolled in to the last checkpoint, the Crescent Bar & Grill near Cook.
After about an hour there drinking colas and eating french fries, I hit the home stretch, about 25 miles of flat trail to the finish line at the Fortune Bay casino.
My bike computer had conked out due to the cold, so I didn't know how fast I was going or how far I had gone. But I must have been in a hurry to get the thing over with. I passed a couple of riders and before I knew it, I saw a big building looming in the twilight.
I hit the finish line, 34 hours and 32 minutes after I started.
About an hour later, I was hitting the buffet at the casino. For the past day and a half, I had been eating brownies and peanut butter and jelly, fried egg and turkey and roast beef sandwiches that I tried to keep from freezing by stuffing them in my pockets.
At the casino restaurant, I managed only one beer, but I ate ribs, fried chicken, steak, roast beef, salmon and cherry pie.
I also got a nice little trophy given out to finishers. According to the race website, they had only 100 on hand, but they still expected to have enough left over for next year.
The winner in the bike category, Alaskan Jeff Oatley, nearly got a course record with a time of 15 hours, 50 minutes. But 19 of the 58 bikers who started didn't finish.
Hastings resident John Storkamp won the running division for the third time with a time of 44 hours, 32 minutes. But 36 of the 54 runners didn't finish. None of the six skiers in the race finished.
Race director Dave Pramann said the extreme cold made the snow so slow that some of the skiers resorted to taking off their skis and trying to hike the trail.
But Pramann said he was glad that at least no one had to go to the hospital during this year's race. That hasn't been the case in past years.
Richard Chin can be reached at 651-228-5560.
Feb 12, 2011
Article from Star trib
135 miles: Do or die
Trekking the equivalent of St. Paul to Iowa while dragging a sled behind you on 30-below nights might seem a sadistic death sentence to most.
By CURT BROWN, Star Tribune
Last update: February 9, 2011 - 7:43 AM
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MORE ARROWHEAD 135 INFO: Results and other information can be found at www.arrowheadultra.com/index.php
INTERNATIONAL FALLS, MINN. -- Some of us tolerate winter. Others embrace it. Then there's this bunch.
The first frosty streak of daylight cuts through the blackness at 6:45 a.m. as the 58 bikers, 54 runners and six skiers wait for the signal that it's time for them to begin braving death.
For the next three days, they will haul themselves and their survival gear 135 miles through Minnesota's North Woods -- from International Falls to Tower -- in the most mind- and toe-numbing endurance race in the lower 48 states.
Trekking the equivalent of St. Paul to Iowa while dragging a sled behind you on 30-below nights might seem a sadistic death sentence to most. Relocate the quest to Minnesota's most remote wilderness in the midst of a bitter winter -- with rescue an iffy proposition -- and you've got a race that's irresistible to some.
"There a lot of people who can't do this kind of race, and a lot of people who would never want to," says Ken Zylstra, 48, of Prior Lake. "Maybe that's why we do it."
Along the way, one competitor will marvel at wolves that sprint out of the forest and eye her as she pedals the Arrowhead Trail. Zylstra will get sidetracked fetching help for a hypothermic competitor shivering in a trail-side sleeping bag. And a sleep-deprived, hallucinating runner from Duluth will see the snow-dusted balsam and spruce branches begin to resemble skeletons by the morning of his third day.
"These are brave, brave souls," Janine Burtness, secretary for the local Chamber of Commerce says just before the start Monday. "My car says it's 20-below, and it's just unbelievable what these folks are about to endure."
'Release the hounds'
The night before the start, jittery racers sit at folding tables in the community center here before easing into a spaghetti dinner.
In one corner, there's Dick and Laurie Woodbury from White Bear Lake, the race deans. He's 66, served in Vietnam and sells life insurance. She's 55 and works as a risk manager. They met at a triathlon clinic 25 years ago and have completed all 14 Ironman triathlons they've entered. By comparison, they've finished two of their five Arrowhead 135s.
"Everyone can do an Ironman," Dick says. "This race lets you find out what's inside you, and there's a great common bond with all the others seeking this kind of challenge."
Tom Fisher, a 17-year-old from Grand Forks, cajoled race director Dave Pramann into bending the minimum-age cutoff on the condition that his neighbor, 35-year-old Andy Magness, chaperone him through the woods. At another table sits first-timer Jennifer Flynn, a plant pathology lab assistant from Coon Rapids. Privately, Pramann put her odds of finishing at one in 10. More than half the field will give up before finishing.
Apropos for such an unusual race, the Arrowhead 135 begins with a signature shout.
Pramann, who is both the race director and its record holder, fires a starter's pistol and hollers: "Release the hounds."
Crunch-crunch-crunch sounds come in response, bike tires, runners' boots and skiers' edges biting into the snow.
At the 135-mile Bad Water ultra marathon in Death Valley -- the 123-degree yang to this race's frozen yin -- racers need a support crew. At the Arrowhead, they must be self-sustaining with sleeping bags, stoves, food and an emergency whistle. Help is prohibited except at three checkpoints spaced roughly every 35 miles -- the Gateway general store, Melgeorge's Resort and the Crescent Bar and Grill.
After 20 miles, Tom Fisher is a wreck.
"My legs were cramping terribly," Fisher says. "I was super fatigued and surprised how hard and long this was, wishing that first store was around every corner so I could quit."
Phil and Ellen Hart say two people might visit their Gateway store on Lake Kabetogama on a normal day. Now, it's packed with racers devouring the 12 pots of soup that Ellen's cooking. Fisher downs three bowls of macaroni beef and feels better. Magness, his chaperone, is disqualified with two flat tires but persuades race officials to let him change out a tire and unofficially ride along with Fisher the next 90 miles.
Buck naked at Mile 47
John Logar, a West Virginia doctor, leaves the store on a too-fast pace. Sweating can kill a racer in this cold, the body's core temperature plummeting in wet clothes.
At 8 p.m., under a moonless 30-below sky, Logar stops suddenly at Mile 47.
"I used every ounce of my energy and made the mistake of getting wet," he says. "I was knocked down as low as I could go and wanted to quit when I realized I couldn't warm up."
Recognizing his peril, he strips off his sweat-drenched clothes and stands naked under the watching stars. Rummaging up some dry clothes, he jogs on.
"I had to do that or die," he says.
At Melgeorge's Resort, a converted logging camp on Elephant Lake north of Orr, racers pedal and stomp over the frozen ice to the Cedar Cabin midpoint check-in, where they nap, eat grilled cheese sandwiches and sip wild rice soup.
Zylstra is a mile away from the lake when he sees a racer flailing in his sleeping bag, trying to kick snow off. He looks in and finds a shivering man, clearly in distress. Zylstra pedals on and finds a crew of volunteer snowmobilers. They speed to the spot Zylstra described, and Lance Russell is rescued from frostbite, or worse.
The Woodburys pedal into Melgeorges just after midnight, grab some sleep, then take off at 8:30 a.m. The hills that come next take a punishing toll. They decide to quit.
"I was dehydrated," Laurie says. "And we couldn't get warm."
No shame there: Nineteen of the 58 bikers, two-thirds of the 54 runners and all six of the skiers will drop out.
"Maybe next year we'll race on the beach in Florida," Laurie adds.
As the Woodburys give in, Zylstra rides off. He soon loses the trail, circles back and finds a sign saying Melgeorge's is 2 miles ahead.
"It was like a punch in the gut," he says. "But we rode on. Sometimes we'd stop and turn off our lights and look up and it seemed like you could throw a snowball and hit the stars."
'135 miles of pain'
At Mile 87, Flynn, the first-timer, comes riding between the pines, smiling. "There's no bad weather," she says. "Just bad gear."
The last of the countless mounds she pushes her bike up is called Wakemup Hill at Mile 113. Flynn thinks of turning off her head lamp to enjoy the stars and the faint green of the Northern Lights. "But I would have to take off my gloves to work the buttons."
At 30-below, it's not worth it. But Flynn is getting gutsy about making time as she nears the finish.
"I started taking the downhills full gale with enough force to make it up the next hill," she says. "It most have been an impressive maneuver because a couple snowmobilers came by and gave me a thumb's up."
At Mile 122, Duluth nurse Jeremy Kershaw is struggling with sleep-deprived visions of skeletons in trees when he finds a stray water bottle and then a racer acting delirious and childlike, unable to button his clothes. He warms up the man's cell phone and calls for a snowmobile rescue.
"One slip out here in the 30-below and you enter what we call the pain cave of hypothermia," Kershaw says.
One by one, the 57 finishers arrive, walk into a hotel hospitality room and pose for snapshots with little paperweight-sized trophies showcasing an arrowhead. After 50 hours and six minutes, Flynn pedals into the Fortune Bay Casino in Tower -- the last of the 39 bikers and one of only three women out of 12 who started out to complete the Arrowhead 135.
More than 40 hours elapse between the time Alaskan Jeff Oatley defends his title in 15 hours and 50 minutes and the last walker, Barb Owen, completes the race in 57 hours and 38 minutes. In between, Fisher rides in, branding the race as "135 miles of pain."
Heather Best, Oatley's wife from Fairbanks, smashes the women's record by more than six hours. Besides the trophy, she takes home the wolf encounter that would only happen on the Arrowhead 135.
"It was 9 at night and I was riding alone when I saw the first pair of eyes running full speed right at me," she says. "Then I saw a bigger set of eyes and a huge gray wolf goes by, just hauling ass. At first, I was thinking it was sweet. Then I was like, 'Oh my God, how many more are going to come out of the woods?'"
Curt Brown 613-673-4767
Trekking the equivalent of St. Paul to Iowa while dragging a sled behind you on 30-below nights might seem a sadistic death sentence to most.
By CURT BROWN, Star Tribune
Last update: February 9, 2011 - 7:43 AM
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MORE ARROWHEAD 135 INFO: Results and other information can be found at www.arrowheadultra.com/index.php
INTERNATIONAL FALLS, MINN. -- Some of us tolerate winter. Others embrace it. Then there's this bunch.
The first frosty streak of daylight cuts through the blackness at 6:45 a.m. as the 58 bikers, 54 runners and six skiers wait for the signal that it's time for them to begin braving death.
For the next three days, they will haul themselves and their survival gear 135 miles through Minnesota's North Woods -- from International Falls to Tower -- in the most mind- and toe-numbing endurance race in the lower 48 states.
Trekking the equivalent of St. Paul to Iowa while dragging a sled behind you on 30-below nights might seem a sadistic death sentence to most. Relocate the quest to Minnesota's most remote wilderness in the midst of a bitter winter -- with rescue an iffy proposition -- and you've got a race that's irresistible to some.
"There a lot of people who can't do this kind of race, and a lot of people who would never want to," says Ken Zylstra, 48, of Prior Lake. "Maybe that's why we do it."
Along the way, one competitor will marvel at wolves that sprint out of the forest and eye her as she pedals the Arrowhead Trail. Zylstra will get sidetracked fetching help for a hypothermic competitor shivering in a trail-side sleeping bag. And a sleep-deprived, hallucinating runner from Duluth will see the snow-dusted balsam and spruce branches begin to resemble skeletons by the morning of his third day.
"These are brave, brave souls," Janine Burtness, secretary for the local Chamber of Commerce says just before the start Monday. "My car says it's 20-below, and it's just unbelievable what these folks are about to endure."
'Release the hounds'
The night before the start, jittery racers sit at folding tables in the community center here before easing into a spaghetti dinner.
In one corner, there's Dick and Laurie Woodbury from White Bear Lake, the race deans. He's 66, served in Vietnam and sells life insurance. She's 55 and works as a risk manager. They met at a triathlon clinic 25 years ago and have completed all 14 Ironman triathlons they've entered. By comparison, they've finished two of their five Arrowhead 135s.
"Everyone can do an Ironman," Dick says. "This race lets you find out what's inside you, and there's a great common bond with all the others seeking this kind of challenge."
Tom Fisher, a 17-year-old from Grand Forks, cajoled race director Dave Pramann into bending the minimum-age cutoff on the condition that his neighbor, 35-year-old Andy Magness, chaperone him through the woods. At another table sits first-timer Jennifer Flynn, a plant pathology lab assistant from Coon Rapids. Privately, Pramann put her odds of finishing at one in 10. More than half the field will give up before finishing.
Apropos for such an unusual race, the Arrowhead 135 begins with a signature shout.
Pramann, who is both the race director and its record holder, fires a starter's pistol and hollers: "Release the hounds."
Crunch-crunch-crunch sounds come in response, bike tires, runners' boots and skiers' edges biting into the snow.
At the 135-mile Bad Water ultra marathon in Death Valley -- the 123-degree yang to this race's frozen yin -- racers need a support crew. At the Arrowhead, they must be self-sustaining with sleeping bags, stoves, food and an emergency whistle. Help is prohibited except at three checkpoints spaced roughly every 35 miles -- the Gateway general store, Melgeorge's Resort and the Crescent Bar and Grill.
After 20 miles, Tom Fisher is a wreck.
"My legs were cramping terribly," Fisher says. "I was super fatigued and surprised how hard and long this was, wishing that first store was around every corner so I could quit."
Phil and Ellen Hart say two people might visit their Gateway store on Lake Kabetogama on a normal day. Now, it's packed with racers devouring the 12 pots of soup that Ellen's cooking. Fisher downs three bowls of macaroni beef and feels better. Magness, his chaperone, is disqualified with two flat tires but persuades race officials to let him change out a tire and unofficially ride along with Fisher the next 90 miles.
Buck naked at Mile 47
John Logar, a West Virginia doctor, leaves the store on a too-fast pace. Sweating can kill a racer in this cold, the body's core temperature plummeting in wet clothes.
At 8 p.m., under a moonless 30-below sky, Logar stops suddenly at Mile 47.
"I used every ounce of my energy and made the mistake of getting wet," he says. "I was knocked down as low as I could go and wanted to quit when I realized I couldn't warm up."
Recognizing his peril, he strips off his sweat-drenched clothes and stands naked under the watching stars. Rummaging up some dry clothes, he jogs on.
"I had to do that or die," he says.
At Melgeorge's Resort, a converted logging camp on Elephant Lake north of Orr, racers pedal and stomp over the frozen ice to the Cedar Cabin midpoint check-in, where they nap, eat grilled cheese sandwiches and sip wild rice soup.
Zylstra is a mile away from the lake when he sees a racer flailing in his sleeping bag, trying to kick snow off. He looks in and finds a shivering man, clearly in distress. Zylstra pedals on and finds a crew of volunteer snowmobilers. They speed to the spot Zylstra described, and Lance Russell is rescued from frostbite, or worse.
The Woodburys pedal into Melgeorges just after midnight, grab some sleep, then take off at 8:30 a.m. The hills that come next take a punishing toll. They decide to quit.
"I was dehydrated," Laurie says. "And we couldn't get warm."
No shame there: Nineteen of the 58 bikers, two-thirds of the 54 runners and all six of the skiers will drop out.
"Maybe next year we'll race on the beach in Florida," Laurie adds.
As the Woodburys give in, Zylstra rides off. He soon loses the trail, circles back and finds a sign saying Melgeorge's is 2 miles ahead.
"It was like a punch in the gut," he says. "But we rode on. Sometimes we'd stop and turn off our lights and look up and it seemed like you could throw a snowball and hit the stars."
'135 miles of pain'
At Mile 87, Flynn, the first-timer, comes riding between the pines, smiling. "There's no bad weather," she says. "Just bad gear."
The last of the countless mounds she pushes her bike up is called Wakemup Hill at Mile 113. Flynn thinks of turning off her head lamp to enjoy the stars and the faint green of the Northern Lights. "But I would have to take off my gloves to work the buttons."
At 30-below, it's not worth it. But Flynn is getting gutsy about making time as she nears the finish.
"I started taking the downhills full gale with enough force to make it up the next hill," she says. "It most have been an impressive maneuver because a couple snowmobilers came by and gave me a thumb's up."
At Mile 122, Duluth nurse Jeremy Kershaw is struggling with sleep-deprived visions of skeletons in trees when he finds a stray water bottle and then a racer acting delirious and childlike, unable to button his clothes. He warms up the man's cell phone and calls for a snowmobile rescue.
"One slip out here in the 30-below and you enter what we call the pain cave of hypothermia," Kershaw says.
One by one, the 57 finishers arrive, walk into a hotel hospitality room and pose for snapshots with little paperweight-sized trophies showcasing an arrowhead. After 50 hours and six minutes, Flynn pedals into the Fortune Bay Casino in Tower -- the last of the 39 bikers and one of only three women out of 12 who started out to complete the Arrowhead 135.
More than 40 hours elapse between the time Alaskan Jeff Oatley defends his title in 15 hours and 50 minutes and the last walker, Barb Owen, completes the race in 57 hours and 38 minutes. In between, Fisher rides in, branding the race as "135 miles of pain."
Heather Best, Oatley's wife from Fairbanks, smashes the women's record by more than six hours. Besides the trophy, she takes home the wolf encounter that would only happen on the Arrowhead 135.
"It was 9 at night and I was riding alone when I saw the first pair of eyes running full speed right at me," she says. "Then I saw a bigger set of eyes and a huge gray wolf goes by, just hauling ass. At first, I was thinking it was sweet. Then I was like, 'Oh my God, how many more are going to come out of the woods?'"
Curt Brown 613-673-4767
Feb 4, 2011
2011 Arrowhead 135
ARROWHEAD 135 Jan 31 to Feb 2 2011
The day started at -9 degrees and cloudy and it was reported that the temp got down to -14 just after sunrise. A big crowd at the start in town. Bikes went out first with the skiers and runners a minute later. The first 18 miles are very flat so the miles go by pretty easily, was able to run most of the way to the Hwy 53 crossing at mile 18. I was the first one on foot to cross at 11:50 AM. The next 17 miles start getting a little hilly but not bad. I walked most of the way except for running the down hills. Ate some on the trail as I walked. About 2 miles from Gateway John Storkamp (another walker and eventual winner) caught me and we talked for a while. Mike Stattleman (on skies) had caught me about 5 miles earlier. Got to Gateway checkpoint (mile 35) at 3:45PM and stayed for 1:15. Was longer than I wanted to stay but was trying to get my gear to dry. I had but on shoe covers over my Gore-Tex trail shoes at the start and at the checkpoint noticed my feet were soaking wet. I was able to change socks but already was starting to get some blisters. I had some warm food to eat and then back out onto the trail. The next miles the hills get a little steeper and more frequent but still not bad. I was really going thru headlamp batteries, I didn’t know if my light was bad or if it was the cold but a set of batteries was only lasting 2 1/2 or 3 hours and I was expecting them to last 5 or 6 hours and had brought enough batteries accordingly. At this rate I wasn’t going to have enough batteries. I reached the Black duck shelter at mile 58 at midnight. They had a fire going so I warmed up at the fire for a little bit than crawled into the bivy and slept till about 4AM. I had considered going on to Mel georges which I did the first year I did the race,(another 4 hours if able to maintain pace.) but for me I felt it would wear me out so much It would put me in the position where I might not be able to continue beyond that point. Was fairly warm in the sleeping bag but again I had picked rough ground to lie on and my hips were uncomfortable. I need a better sleeping pad. I also have to remember to NOT double knot my shoes, when I went to take them off (at a temp of -20) the knots were frozen and my hands were numb and I had a hell of a time getting them untied and then took a long time to warm my hands again. After a few hours of fitful sleep I got up and hit the trail again, feeling much better. It didn’t seem like many people slept at the shelter this year. Matt Maxwell had left just ahead of me and there was only 1 biker still there when I left. It was a reported -25 to -30 below that night while I was out on the trail. I got to Mel Georges checkpoint mile 72 at 8:45AM.I had caught up to Mike S and Matt M while crossing the lake. Got some food to eat and dried a few of my clothes and was out on the trail again by 9:50 AM. The next part of the trail is really nice. The sun was out and it felt warm despite barely getting above 0 all day and it’s just a pretty trail. The next checkpoint is a long 55 miles away and I had already covered 14 miles this morning so it makes for a long day. Night fall comes and I’m still 25 miles from the final checkpoint and this is where the trail really starts to get tough. The hills are relentless, up and down continuously. These are the hills that are so steep that last year it was scary to ski down them in the dark so I would take off my skies and walk down. I sure was glad that I had decided to bring ski poles with this year, they’re a big help on the hills. After a very long and tough day I reached Crescent checkpoint at 1:15 AM. I had been going strong for about 21 hours. For my headlamps I had figured out that if I kept them in my pockets next to my skin where it was warm the batteries were lasting the expected 5 or 6 hours. Although I was still short on batteries I was hoping I could buy some at the checkpoint otherwise I was going to have to wait till sunrise to leave the check point. It was approaching -20 degrees again and I was glad that the checkpoint was inside. Last year the bar that is the checkpoint was only open till 1AM so we had to sleep outside, at least this year we could be inside. When I got into the checkpoint they had a funky rule that you could only lay down and sleep for an hour, if you wanted to sleep longer than that you had to bivy outside. Well I got my hour of sleep on the floor (Its amazing where you can sleep when really tired I had layed down on the bare floor with only a rolled up shirt for a pillow and before I knew it I was being shook awake, my hour was up.)and spent a few hours eating, drying shoes and clothes and resting and then left at 5:40 AM. Back out into the cold. A snowmobile patrol told me he had heard reports that it was -35 to -40 that morning. Was having a heck of a time keeping my hands warm, as I type this it’s hard because all my finger tips are numb. The trail to the finish is 21 miles of mostly flat Black spruce bog. It seems like you are on a high mountain plateau. I had gotten a good rest at the checkpoint and felt like I was really moving along, although for awhile I think I was sleeping walking. The sun was out again and it felt good on your face. Reached the finish line at 12:23 PM. Total time of 53 hours and 23minutes and 8th place in the foot category.
On foot 18 finishers of 54 starters
On bike 39 finishers of 59 starters
On ski's 0 finishers of 7 starters
OVERALL AVERAGE SPEED 23.7 MINUTES PER MILE = 2.5 MPH
AVERAGE SPEED WHEN SUBTRACTING 9.5 HOURS SPENT AT BIVY AND AT CHECKPOINTS= 19.5 MINUTES PER MILE or 3 MPH
The day started at -9 degrees and cloudy and it was reported that the temp got down to -14 just after sunrise. A big crowd at the start in town. Bikes went out first with the skiers and runners a minute later. The first 18 miles are very flat so the miles go by pretty easily, was able to run most of the way to the Hwy 53 crossing at mile 18. I was the first one on foot to cross at 11:50 AM. The next 17 miles start getting a little hilly but not bad. I walked most of the way except for running the down hills. Ate some on the trail as I walked. About 2 miles from Gateway John Storkamp (another walker and eventual winner) caught me and we talked for a while. Mike Stattleman (on skies) had caught me about 5 miles earlier. Got to Gateway checkpoint (mile 35) at 3:45PM and stayed for 1:15. Was longer than I wanted to stay but was trying to get my gear to dry. I had but on shoe covers over my Gore-Tex trail shoes at the start and at the checkpoint noticed my feet were soaking wet. I was able to change socks but already was starting to get some blisters. I had some warm food to eat and then back out onto the trail. The next miles the hills get a little steeper and more frequent but still not bad. I was really going thru headlamp batteries, I didn’t know if my light was bad or if it was the cold but a set of batteries was only lasting 2 1/2 or 3 hours and I was expecting them to last 5 or 6 hours and had brought enough batteries accordingly. At this rate I wasn’t going to have enough batteries. I reached the Black duck shelter at mile 58 at midnight. They had a fire going so I warmed up at the fire for a little bit than crawled into the bivy and slept till about 4AM. I had considered going on to Mel georges which I did the first year I did the race,(another 4 hours if able to maintain pace.) but for me I felt it would wear me out so much It would put me in the position where I might not be able to continue beyond that point. Was fairly warm in the sleeping bag but again I had picked rough ground to lie on and my hips were uncomfortable. I need a better sleeping pad. I also have to remember to NOT double knot my shoes, when I went to take them off (at a temp of -20) the knots were frozen and my hands were numb and I had a hell of a time getting them untied and then took a long time to warm my hands again. After a few hours of fitful sleep I got up and hit the trail again, feeling much better. It didn’t seem like many people slept at the shelter this year. Matt Maxwell had left just ahead of me and there was only 1 biker still there when I left. It was a reported -25 to -30 below that night while I was out on the trail. I got to Mel Georges checkpoint mile 72 at 8:45AM.I had caught up to Mike S and Matt M while crossing the lake. Got some food to eat and dried a few of my clothes and was out on the trail again by 9:50 AM. The next part of the trail is really nice. The sun was out and it felt warm despite barely getting above 0 all day and it’s just a pretty trail. The next checkpoint is a long 55 miles away and I had already covered 14 miles this morning so it makes for a long day. Night fall comes and I’m still 25 miles from the final checkpoint and this is where the trail really starts to get tough. The hills are relentless, up and down continuously. These are the hills that are so steep that last year it was scary to ski down them in the dark so I would take off my skies and walk down. I sure was glad that I had decided to bring ski poles with this year, they’re a big help on the hills. After a very long and tough day I reached Crescent checkpoint at 1:15 AM. I had been going strong for about 21 hours. For my headlamps I had figured out that if I kept them in my pockets next to my skin where it was warm the batteries were lasting the expected 5 or 6 hours. Although I was still short on batteries I was hoping I could buy some at the checkpoint otherwise I was going to have to wait till sunrise to leave the check point. It was approaching -20 degrees again and I was glad that the checkpoint was inside. Last year the bar that is the checkpoint was only open till 1AM so we had to sleep outside, at least this year we could be inside. When I got into the checkpoint they had a funky rule that you could only lay down and sleep for an hour, if you wanted to sleep longer than that you had to bivy outside. Well I got my hour of sleep on the floor (Its amazing where you can sleep when really tired I had layed down on the bare floor with only a rolled up shirt for a pillow and before I knew it I was being shook awake, my hour was up.)and spent a few hours eating, drying shoes and clothes and resting and then left at 5:40 AM. Back out into the cold. A snowmobile patrol told me he had heard reports that it was -35 to -40 that morning. Was having a heck of a time keeping my hands warm, as I type this it’s hard because all my finger tips are numb. The trail to the finish is 21 miles of mostly flat Black spruce bog. It seems like you are on a high mountain plateau. I had gotten a good rest at the checkpoint and felt like I was really moving along, although for awhile I think I was sleeping walking. The sun was out again and it felt good on your face. Reached the finish line at 12:23 PM. Total time of 53 hours and 23minutes and 8th place in the foot category.
On foot 18 finishers of 54 starters
On bike 39 finishers of 59 starters
On ski's 0 finishers of 7 starters
OVERALL AVERAGE SPEED 23.7 MINUTES PER MILE = 2.5 MPH
AVERAGE SPEED WHEN SUBTRACTING 9.5 HOURS SPENT AT BIVY AND AT CHECKPOINTS= 19.5 MINUTES PER MILE or 3 MPH
From the Duluth News Tribune
By Sam Cook Outdoors writer
You have to admire the pluck of a race in which the website warns: “Do not expect to get rescued, except by yourself or maybe your mommy.”
But that’s the spirit of the Arrowhead 135, a grueling endurance event in which bikers, runners and cross-country skiers spend up to two and a half days covering 135 lonely miles of snowmobile trail from International Falls to Tower.
This year’s sixth running of the race starts at 7 a.m. Monday. Finishers must reach Fortune Bay Casino by 7 p.m. Wednesday. A field of 134 is signed up, including three Brazilians, a Bolivian and a Spaniard.
Eric Larsen, who lives part-time in Grand Marais, has entered the race for the first time. He’ll be on his bike. Larsen, 39, skied to the North and South Poles and reached the summit of Mt. Everest, all within a year’s time, finishing last fall. He says he’s only hoping to finish the race.
Jeremy Kershaw of Duluth will be doing his third Arrowhead 135. He skied it and finished in 2009. He bicycled it last year and finished. This year, he will run it. Nobody has yet finished the race in all three modes of travel.
“I want to be the first to do it,” said Kershaw, 39, a registered nurse and former dogsledding guide.
Duluth’s Anne Flueckiger, 41, and her friend Leah Gruhn of Duluth are doing it for the first time. They’ll ski it, towing sleds with the required 20 pounds of gear, including a minus-20-degree sleeping bag.
“If conditions are good, we have a chance of finishing,” Flueckiger said. “If they’re really challenging, then we probably don’t have a chance at all.”
The race runs continuously, day and night. Bikers, if conditions are good, can finish in about 16 hours. Former Duluthian and race director Dave Pramann of Burnsville, Minn., holds the course record of 15 hours, 45 minutes.
In five of six years, the temperature has dipped to minus 20 during the race.
“The race takes two and a half days for the skiers and runners,” Pramann said. “You’re often alone out there in the middle of the night. You’re cold and you’re tired and it’s a matter of staying focused.”
The race has only three checkpoints, although volunteers on snowmobiles ride the course to check on participants.
Duluth firefighter Jim Reed tried it first on skis in 2008 and dropped at the half-way point. The next year, he tried skiing again. He dropped at 35 miles that year. Last year, he finished first among skiers in just under 53 hours.
“So much of it is mental,” said Reed, 51. “It helps if you get some mental training, like skiing at night. We’re looking at 10 hours of daylight and 14 hours at night (each day).”
Participants have no support crews — not even their mommies — and just three checkpoints along the route. They’re allowed a drop bag of 15 pounds — food and drink only, no clothes — at the halfway point.
Strange things can happen out there on the trail.
“A wolf jumped out ahead of us last year and led us down the trail for two or three miles,” Pramann said. “He kept looking over his shoulder once in a while.”
Sometimes, in the wee hours, the wolves are merely imagined.
“I’ve had plenty of wolves following me that weren’t really there,” Kershaw said.
Conditions — deep cold, fresh snow — often conspire to slow the pace.
“You’re averaging (on skis) 3 miles per hour,” Reed said. “Even the bikers are averaging only 4 or 5 miles per hour. The incredibly slow pace really drags on your mind.”
Pramann, who has biked the race four times and won it twice, cannot imagine doing it any other way. The fastest bikers average better than 8 mph.
“To me, that’s the only normal way to do it,” he said. The people who run it and ski it are a little bit whacked, I think.”
Duluth’s Charlie Farrow, 50, will be biking his fifth 135.
“If you’re racing to win it, you have to take really short breaks,” he said. “The guys that take 15 minutes or less at the halfway point are the ones winning it. No breaks along the trail.”
Nearly all participants wear Camelbak bladders of water inside their layers of clothing. The trick is to keep the tube and mouthpiece that runs out of the bladder from freezing.
Farrow trains with Duluth’s Jason Buffington, who also will bike the race.
“He came up with this idea of keeping the Camelbak hose by his mouth,” Farrow said. “He’s perfected this thing where he runs it right next to the carotid artery. He modified his face mask, sewed a bunch of stuff on it.”
While some enter to compete, others are there just for the personal challenge.
“People love to challenge themselves,” Kershaw said. “We’re not going to go climb Mount Everest. This is right in our backyard. It uses almost every skill set I have, from winter camping to skiing. I think that’s why I do it. It really tests me.”
You have to admire the pluck of a race in which the website warns: “Do not expect to get rescued, except by yourself or maybe your mommy.”
But that’s the spirit of the Arrowhead 135, a grueling endurance event in which bikers, runners and cross-country skiers spend up to two and a half days covering 135 lonely miles of snowmobile trail from International Falls to Tower.
This year’s sixth running of the race starts at 7 a.m. Monday. Finishers must reach Fortune Bay Casino by 7 p.m. Wednesday. A field of 134 is signed up, including three Brazilians, a Bolivian and a Spaniard.
Eric Larsen, who lives part-time in Grand Marais, has entered the race for the first time. He’ll be on his bike. Larsen, 39, skied to the North and South Poles and reached the summit of Mt. Everest, all within a year’s time, finishing last fall. He says he’s only hoping to finish the race.
Jeremy Kershaw of Duluth will be doing his third Arrowhead 135. He skied it and finished in 2009. He bicycled it last year and finished. This year, he will run it. Nobody has yet finished the race in all three modes of travel.
“I want to be the first to do it,” said Kershaw, 39, a registered nurse and former dogsledding guide.
Duluth’s Anne Flueckiger, 41, and her friend Leah Gruhn of Duluth are doing it for the first time. They’ll ski it, towing sleds with the required 20 pounds of gear, including a minus-20-degree sleeping bag.
“If conditions are good, we have a chance of finishing,” Flueckiger said. “If they’re really challenging, then we probably don’t have a chance at all.”
The race runs continuously, day and night. Bikers, if conditions are good, can finish in about 16 hours. Former Duluthian and race director Dave Pramann of Burnsville, Minn., holds the course record of 15 hours, 45 minutes.
In five of six years, the temperature has dipped to minus 20 during the race.
“The race takes two and a half days for the skiers and runners,” Pramann said. “You’re often alone out there in the middle of the night. You’re cold and you’re tired and it’s a matter of staying focused.”
The race has only three checkpoints, although volunteers on snowmobiles ride the course to check on participants.
Duluth firefighter Jim Reed tried it first on skis in 2008 and dropped at the half-way point. The next year, he tried skiing again. He dropped at 35 miles that year. Last year, he finished first among skiers in just under 53 hours.
“So much of it is mental,” said Reed, 51. “It helps if you get some mental training, like skiing at night. We’re looking at 10 hours of daylight and 14 hours at night (each day).”
Participants have no support crews — not even their mommies — and just three checkpoints along the route. They’re allowed a drop bag of 15 pounds — food and drink only, no clothes — at the halfway point.
Strange things can happen out there on the trail.
“A wolf jumped out ahead of us last year and led us down the trail for two or three miles,” Pramann said. “He kept looking over his shoulder once in a while.”
Sometimes, in the wee hours, the wolves are merely imagined.
“I’ve had plenty of wolves following me that weren’t really there,” Kershaw said.
Conditions — deep cold, fresh snow — often conspire to slow the pace.
“You’re averaging (on skis) 3 miles per hour,” Reed said. “Even the bikers are averaging only 4 or 5 miles per hour. The incredibly slow pace really drags on your mind.”
Pramann, who has biked the race four times and won it twice, cannot imagine doing it any other way. The fastest bikers average better than 8 mph.
“To me, that’s the only normal way to do it,” he said. The people who run it and ski it are a little bit whacked, I think.”
Duluth’s Charlie Farrow, 50, will be biking his fifth 135.
“If you’re racing to win it, you have to take really short breaks,” he said. “The guys that take 15 minutes or less at the halfway point are the ones winning it. No breaks along the trail.”
Nearly all participants wear Camelbak bladders of water inside their layers of clothing. The trick is to keep the tube and mouthpiece that runs out of the bladder from freezing.
Farrow trains with Duluth’s Jason Buffington, who also will bike the race.
“He came up with this idea of keeping the Camelbak hose by his mouth,” Farrow said. “He’s perfected this thing where he runs it right next to the carotid artery. He modified his face mask, sewed a bunch of stuff on it.”
While some enter to compete, others are there just for the personal challenge.
“People love to challenge themselves,” Kershaw said. “We’re not going to go climb Mount Everest. This is right in our backyard. It uses almost every skill set I have, from winter camping to skiing. I think that’s why I do it. It really tests me.”
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