This year’s Arrowhead started a little warmer than last time; 60-70˚ warmer than last time, in fact. My first arrowhead was 30-40 below zero and this one started right around freezing.

I had high hopes for this attempt. After working with a nutritionist a couple years ago, I honestly don’t know how I got through the first time except for sheer willpower. This time, I had a nutrition and hydration plan and, while I wasn’t 100% successful at executing it due to uneven surfaces, it was good enough to keep me going.

Leg 1: Start to Gateway
The snow was soft at the start and the racers ahead of me had created the usual rut in the trail, which was much faster to ride in but my skill level for following a track only twice the width of my tire is not high. I did my best to stay in the track but my front tire regularly hit the edge and put me off balance. A few times I almost fell down and a couple times I did fall down. Letting some air out of my tires made it a little better because I could just roll over the edge but that reduced the gains of staying in the rut. I ended up finding a relatively firm but slightly slower section of trail off toward the right edge.

A few miles in, three skiers cruised past the line of bikes. They provided hours of conversation at checkpoints and at any other opportunity.

I arrived at Gateway at 13:45. It wasn’t my best time, but my goal wasn’t speed, it was completion and I was still 45 minutes ahead of my first attempt. At Gateway, I refilled my hydration/food pack from their sink (not recommended). Ate a snickers, and departed in 23 minutes.

Leg 2: Gateway to Melgeorges
The snow started getting stiffer as the temperature dropped a bit, which was welcome. I kept my eyes on the faster racers’ tracks and let them find and create the firmest track for me.

The first real hill on the route is at 45.1 miles. When I say real hill, I don’t mean it’s long or high, I mean it’s steep. It’s like 50%+ grade steep. My bike was lighter this year than in the past, so it actually wasn’t that bad to climb, but it was only the first hill of many.

Later in the leg, in the last 5 or so miles to Melgeorges, are the hills I immediately began to refer to as the Asshole Hills. Out of the many hills in that section, here are only two that earn the moniker. I’d swear there were more on my first attempt but maybe that’s just trauma speaking. As you approach the crest of one of the hills, you get to see the actual crest of the hill appearing in the distance beyond what you thought was the crest of the hill, at least twice as far away. On the other hill, as you approach the crest, you find the trail turns left and continues upward, again at least twice as far.

As I continued to drink the sulphur-smelling water from Gateway, my gut started rejecting the idea of food and water. I wasn’t sure the cause, but maybe I should have been more careful about eating a whole Snickers and purchased a bottle of water instead of using their sink.

I paused several times just to be where I was. I was surrounded by darkness, trees, and sky with my lone headlight illuminating the trail ahead. While staring at the stars, I heard a low wolf howl off to my left. When I ask myself why I do this, I remind myself this is why.

I reached Melgeorges at 22:39, now about 50 minutes ahead of my first attempt, the gain mostly attributable to my spending less time at Gateway. A racer had dropped out of the race a few weeks earlier for logistical reasons and made their cabin reservation available. I split it with another racer, so I had a place to crash and reset. After a hot shower and a grilled cheese, I left a light on for my cabin-mate and hit the sack. As I closed my eyes to sleep, I saw an endless waterfall effect of fat tire tracks in the snow.

Leg 3: Gateway to Embark
I got up feeling tired but a bit refreshed in the morning, made a pot of bad coffee and drank a cup, got dressed, and checked out of the checkpoint at 06:39, 4.5 hours behind my 02:09 checkout in 2019 but after a good 5 hours of sleep. My gut was reset and I was ready to tackle the last half of the distance and the last three-quarters of the difficulty.

This leg is the hilliest of the route but it starts with several miles of flattish trail. I spent hours wondering if it wasn’t as bad as I remembered and then the hills started at 20 miles to Embark. Every hill was hike-a-bike up, then a short ride down to the next hill, and repeat seemingly indefinitely, serenaded by the squeal of my brakes.

The snow was warm and sticky. My pedals were full of packed-snow-ice and became slippery, causing me to fall a few times, my right clip lost a screw, causing me to fall once. The groomer came through and hid the soft snow under smooth soft snow, causing me to fall multiple times. I put my foot down on fresh groomed snow, which turned out to be a foot of soft snow, causing me to fall yet again. At some point, I broke the right side drop off of my handlebars, which would have been really problematic with flat bars but it just removed one hand position for me.

Eventually, the hills mostly ended and the clever signs for Embark checkpoint started. Lots of rollers later, I arrived at Embark to a full minute of cowbell ringing as I slowly approached from the distance. The time was 19:01,still on pace at 4.5 hours later than in 2019.

A hot maple steamer and full hydration bladder later, I continued forward, repeating the mantra I learned the first time: “three rollers and one big hill, then it’s flat.”

Leg 4: Embark to Finish
I reached the bottom of Wakemup, the “one big hill,” and thought it didn’t look that bad, but I remembered it as a monumental climb with a turn in the middle. I braced myself and began the long climb up the one big hill. When I got to the top of the hill I thought “was that it?” I rode across the flat top of the hill then plummeted down the other side.

Only 20-ish miles remaining and mostly flat. Now that I wasn’t getting on and off my bike, I started to feel the saddle-soreness from two days of riding and my arms were sore from holding myself and my hydration pack upright on uneven snow. I really wanted that extra drop hand position to be able to shift my weight around but the break in my handlebar was right below the hood.

As I reached the finish line, I felt strong enough to keep going and, more importantly, strong enough to bike the final, small rise to the finish line. I crossed the line to the serenade of cowbells and clapping after 42 hours and 6 minutes. Next stop: Actif Epica.

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