Sverge: Oppet Spar

So my ultramania over the last 12 months was all pointed in one direction...completing a 90 km classic ski race in Mora, Sweden. Not an easy task since I'm not much of a classic skier. In March 2010, I got serious about Mora after finishing my first 50km classic event at the Buckwheat Classic; a lovely mountainous track in northern British Columbia near the boarder of the Canadian Yukon. It took me 5:25 minutes and it was hard to imagine skiing 90 km in a year. But, in late February 2011, my partner and I arrived in Stockholm toting several pairs of skis, a variety of waxes, and a bottle of Ibuprofen. We spent a couple of days touring the beautiful city founded in the thirteenth century and now covering eight islands. We stayed in an older area called Gomla Stan (the site of much of Steig Larrson's fiction) and shopped with abandon, forgetting momentarily that we were hauling everything on our backs and in ski bags. As we struggled to find a seat on the crowded train heading to Mora, we realized it would have made more sense to shop just prior to our departure 10 days later. The town of Mora encapsulates everything I pictured in terms of a Scandanavian village. A lovely old church close to the train station with small, neat shops and tidy colorful homes set close to a large lake. It was sunny every day and there was abundant snow. I splurged and bought skate blades after watching local families blading around a 3 mile course plowed daily across the lake. There were 56,000 skiers skiing various races during the Vasaloppet week, ending with the 90 km Vasaloppet. I registered for two races, the 90 km Oppet Spar (held on both Sunday and Monday a week before the Vasaloppet) and the 45 km skate race, the Sjevasan, on Friday. My partner signed up for a 45 km classic race. We also met three friends there. Jim, from Minnesota, is a serious racer and something of a wax-god. Sharon and Sally are also from Alaska. The four of us were here for fun and yes, with the collective goal of completing our ski events smiling and in minimal pain.

My 90 km event began with a long climb of 1200 feet out of a valley. There were 6500 racers around me stomping up the track as the sun rose above the surrounding hills. It under 20 degrees and I chilled during a long steady downhill. Also, I was mildly freaked out by the kilometer markers at every kilometer... only 88 kilometers to go!
There were seven rest stops along the 57 mile course, three times I took off my skis (after pouring hot water on the frozen bindings) and addressed a blister on my right foot. The stops offered the traditional blue-berry soup, Cardamom buns, and professional waxing services...sweet, but my kick wax actually held and I only re-waxed once at the half-way point. The course was groomed to perfection, starting with 8 tracks across (can you imagine?). Midway, the course dropped to 6 tracks as skiers spaced out and finally only 4 tracks over the last 25 kilometers. The hardest part of the entire race for me was the mental challenge of skiing much further than I had ever classic skied (or skate skied for that matter). And, in Juneau, with a rainy January, my longest training ski had been 26 miles slogging through wet, heavy snow on a self-made course in a colder, alpine valley which took me, and my companions, 90 minutes of hiking and skinning to reach. So, daunted by the length of this event, I set a slow and steady pace. Mentally, it was still hard to cope with the distance although with each 10 kilometers I felt better about it. My cautious pace worked well because the last 30 kilometers were by far the easiest skiing for me. I was thrilled to stride into Mora before dark, feeling surprisingly energetic.
The next day Kari finished her 45 kilometer race looking like she'd skied half as far.
Our friend Jim accompanied her during the final ten kilometers through the finish line.

I had three lovely days off before my 45 kilometer skate race. The five of us toured the Mora ski museum.
Where I spotted "Ostbye" ski wax from 1915. Ostbye was my Norwegian grandmother's last name, so I'm wondering if there's a genetic link which may explain my ski addiction! Under Jim's tutoring, we spent four hours one morning waxing away with the pros. We actually were surrounded by pros since we were staying in the same hotel as the German and Italian racing teams. Talk about hard-bodies! The viewing opportunities justified our spending a fair amount of time hanging in the hotel bar.
Finally, I am beginning to understand the complexity of kick wax.
Although our marathon wax session focused on waxing the glide zones for our skate race on Friday.

Friday was another gorgeous day. Sharon finished a few minutes ahead of me and I skated the last five kilometers with two crazy Italians trying to spur me on.
And at the last rest stop, Swedish radio interviewed me and asked all about skiing in Alaska.
Sally had a terrific ski! Here we are celebrating our last night in Mora. Did I mention that the food was delicious?
On Saturday morning we caught the early train for Stockholm. That ends my crazy year of ultras (7 ultras and 4 marathon distance events). What's the next challenge??? Maybe a year on the sofa mastering War and Peace.

Birthday overnight at John Muir Cabin

Here are some pictures from Kari's and my joint birthday overnight at John Muir cabin.

The weather was gorgeous after weeks of gray, soggy Juneau rain.

Sharon and I started early on Saturday and after dropping our packs at the cabin, we skate skied over to Spaulding Meadow.

Sharon's thinking about our ski trip to Sweden next month...
Chuck, Martha, Kari, Denise and Gail hiked up late morning.

Did I mention how much wine we hauled up the trail?

It was one of those days where it's hard to believe there is anywhere more beautiful than southeast Alaska.

The sun felt tropical...and it's January!

John Muir cabin sits at about 1500 feet of elevation and from the cabin on a weekend like this, visitors are treated to stunning views of Lynn Canal and the Chilkoot Range.

And, the conditions were just right for Sharon and I to skate ski with abandon in the alpine; no need for a groomed trail.

Such conditions are present maybe one weekend a year (this one!).

We started a marathon scrabble game just before the sunset.

Luckily, Kari remembered to take photos of the setting sun.

I was too busy losing at Scrabble and sipping the Pinot that Andy sent up (thanks!).

And, as the sun set, Gail returned from her long classic ski to view one of the several light-houses along the canal.

I will spare everyone of the night photos! But, Chuck was up bright and early Sunday morning for more skiing...that Chuck is such an early bird!

And, he motivated the rest of us outside for more skiing and snow-shoeing.

Yes, another gorgeous, sunny day in the rainforest.

Here's a parting dawn photo by Kari.

What a terrific way to spend our birthdays! I missed getting photos of Carol, Rebecca, Dee and Eric, but thanks for skiing and snow-shoeing by the cabin to wish us happy birthday!
Cheers,
Anne

Training in -40 (Canadian Yukon)

Okay, I'm a huge fan of the Alaska Marine Highway System, but our trip on the Aurora last weekend to Skagway en route to Whitehorse during high winds (50-60 mph) made me question the prudence of winter ferry travel in southeast Alaska (or maybe just the prudence of our decision to board a ferry during high wind alerts in January). Here's a picture of our window after an hour of blistering ice and waves...
Normally, we're staring out the window at the beautifully rugged mountains lining Lynn Canal. But, not last Friday.

For nearly four hourse, the waves repeatedly crashed over the bow of the ferry, the steward passed out new barf bags, the cook got sick along with 25% of the passengers, and I clung to a rail outside in an effort to hold my stomach together. Finally, after almost nine hours, we drove off the ferry in Skagway and headed up the Klondike highway towards Whitehorse, the capitol of the Canadian Yukon, for a weekend of skiing in "real" winter weather.

The temps dipped to -40 the first night and we needed to get our car jumped Saturday morning. It was a balmy -30 as we pulled on our gear at Mount McIntyre and headed out to the track (notice the boot covers).

The area reminded me of skiing the Gunflint Trail in northern Minnesota.

It was darn cold for our Juneau blood. But, there are advantages...wax once with special green and it holds all winter.

The disadvantages to cold and powdery snow showed most in the large amount of time it took us to accrue any real mileage: zero glide. Also, our GU and energy bars froze up rock solid within the first hour on the trail.

After three days of frigid weather, we were ready to brave the ferry back to Juneau. But, we knew we'd miss the cozy wax room and friendly Yukoners.

Imagine a wax room such as this in Spaulding Meadow...

Treading On Thin Ice: Eagle River

December was sunny and cold. But, right around Christmas rain returned to the rainforest. Juneau groomers are wizards at grooming ice and mush for weeks on end. The ski community gives a collective sigh, switches to waxless skis, grudgingly pulls their rain gear from the bottom of the clothes pile and heads out the door.

Gail, Kari and I were still in a bit of rain denial when Gail suggested skiing up Eagle River to Eagle Glacier. The nordic ski web site had boasted some fantastic river skiing during the cold snap and we had all missed out for various reasons. So, early in the morning on the final day of 2010, we left the trailhead with our skis, dogs and headlamps.



We spent the first quarter mile on the Amalga Trail alongside Eagle River. The trail was built by miners around 1900. By 1909 there were 50 people living at Amalga. A mill operated until World War I. Eagle River Mine produced 70,000 or so tons of ore. Eagle River leads to Eagle Glacier and a public cabin. We were hoping to make the 9 mile round trip during daylight.



We headed up the river and followed some ski tracks that looked several days old. There was open water at first but still plenty of ice and snow. Our dogs were thrilled. Kari and I were also pleased because we've never explored this trail or been to Eagle Glacier. For the first mile the travel was lovely...no steep descents or branches to duck.


We began encountering large areas of open water though. And, the old tracks disappeared into the river and popped out 25 feet on the other side indicating there had been a significant amount of melt recently. The further upriver we skied, the narrower it became and the flow increased. We were forced to scamper up a bank and bush-whack about half a mile through the forest. I made the unfortunate discovery that dormant and withered Devil's Club pricks right through heavy winter clothes with the same intensity that it pierces lightweight running shorts.


We attempted to cross again after a bend in the river and removed our skis, contemplating a jump across a narrow stream of open water to an ice island. But, my ice shelf broke and I fell forward onto snow and ice and that also broke through. I could tell I was wet, but I was very close to shore. I tried to find stable ice but my dogs charged over and crashed through all of the ice around me and then gracefully jumped to shore (thanks dogs). Behind me Kari also broke through a layer of ice closer to stable ground. While I was trying to get my chest out of the water and onto some ice, Gail, who managed to stay dry, called out that she had thought taking off our skis had been a bad idea. Yep, it was a bad idea.

I found myself grabbing a snow-laden tree that had fallen from the bank onto the river. I scooted along the tree, holding my skis and poles and then unartfully pulled myself up a steep and bushy 12 foot bank. My dogs were sliding down the bank and leaping up again, showing me how easy it all was. Kari and Gail had a clear route back into the woods.

We peered upstream and the openings in the ice only appeared larger.


At this point, Kari suggested waffles and Gail and I whole-heartedly agreed. We headed back down the river without incident.


In viewing the map, it looks like we made it about half way to Eagle Glacier. Even with the shorter distance, it was enough for our 7 month old Chessie who was sacked out on Gail's backpack ten minutes after we climbed into the car.


Well, it's a week later and the sun and cooler weather have returned. We're trying to train for a few ski events in February and March. So, we've waxed up for the weekend...just don't look for us on any of the local rivers.