American Birkebeiner Race

I’ve never done a real race, in any sport. Maybe it was the swagger of completing a thru-hike or the lubrication from a couple of beers (probably both) but when a conversation with my ski racing friends turned to the 55km American Birkebeiner the next thing I knew I had signed up. 

The Birkie race is based on the story of the Birkebeiners, a faction during the Norwegian civil war in the 1200s. Clad in birch bark leggings, two skiers smuggled 2-year-old Prince Haakon to safety through rugged mountains, forests, and blizzarding weather. The legend is the inspiration for the American Birkebiner race which stretches from Cable, WI to Hayward, WI.

My “training” strategy for the race was just to ski as much as possible. Easier said than done. We don’t get any snow in Madison until early January, giving me about 7 weeks to train for a brutal race in a sport I did not feel very confident in. 

A few weeks before the race, I got a job filming an event on the Birkie course. Between filming, I was able to try out different skis. To no great surprise, my second-hand skis were not very good. So I ordered new skis, which arrived 2 days before the race.

The night before we spent waxing our skis. And I even slept ok. 

At the starting line it’s not quite chaos but pretty damn close. There’s a warming shelter, sponsor tents, and some haphazardly placed signs on where to go. My friend’s waves start off before me and I’m left alone with giddy and terrified emotions. 

The gun goes off and we’re away. I’ve never skied around this many people before. It’s a bit of a traffic jam. Not great for a guy who hasn’t mastered stopping. And damn these new skis are FAST. I fall a few times while getting the hang of them. 

Just after the first checkpoint another skier is splayed across my track. They try to get out of the way but end up making it worse. I fly into soft snow and so do my glasses. I manage to find them and get back up.

I don’t get the hang of how to stop and grab water and snacks. Plus I’m towards the end of the pack and they are starting to run out. By the time I reach OO checkpoint, just under halfway, I’m exhausted and need calories and water. I take off my skis and eat about dozen cookies. I walk around to loosen up. 

A race official comes up to me and asks if I’m quitting the race. I must look like shit. I hadn’t considered quitting, but something about being asked flips a switch in me. Hell no I’m not done. I destroy a cliff bar and hit the trail.

After that I’m in the zone. I start ripping down hills and blasting back up them. I’m passing earlier waves now. Bitch Hill is my bitch. At some point I drink pickle juice. The snow is starting to get soft which is making this so much harder. I descend to Lake Hayward. Nice and flat for 4km. I can do flat. I grab a shot of Jägermeister from a spectator and down it without breaking my stride.   

The lake seems impossibly long but it eventually ends. I’m exhausted. Now just up and over the bridge and down Main Street. My biggest fear the last few days has been falling in front of everyone. My wobbly legs manage to hold and I make it down the street to the finish line. A volunteer throws a medal over neck. My time of 05h 50m 11s isn’t going to impress anyone, but I achieved my goal. I finished!

McKeever Cabin

I’ve been feeling a little stuck in Madison this winter. I’ve been doing a lot of cross country skiing since I (foolishly?) signed up for the 55km Birkie ski race, but I’ve been lacking in backcountry adventures.

Luckily, my uncle suggested we try the McKeever cabin in the UP. It’s only a 1.33 miles snowshoe back to the cabin but it’s a great cure for my backcountry craving. Wide open skies, freshly groomed trails, toasty fires and backcountry bloodies, it’s even better than I expected.

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I wasn’t sure what to expect on the ski front, it says groomed on the website but you just never know. Turns out they were excellent! They are groomed approx. once a week. We were lucky enough to have that day fall on our first day there. Not a huge trail system but three nice loops kept me satisfied. The cabin is situated in the middle of them, which means a mid-ski stop for snacks and a bloody mary.

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The cabin itself is small, has four bunks and a nice woodburning stove. It’s similar to the ones in the Porcupine Mountains on the other side of the peninsula. The stove is either on full blast or not on so it’s a bit a of a trick getting it just right. The best is there is an old hand water pump that works in the winter. A huge bonus. No melting snow for water. We met a ranger who stopped by to test the water, which they do every month, and she confirmed it was safe to drink unfiltered.

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I also go to dust off the pulk I built for a Thanksgiving Hut trip a few years back. It was much easier to pull on the mostly level trail vs up the side of a mountain in Colorado. Shocking.

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I credit my uncle for inspiring my love of the outdoors, especially backcountry pursuits. He taught me many skills but also to not to take it too seriously. And never, ever, skimp on food. For this trip we had bloodies, ribs and a smorgasbord of other delights. On past trips we’ve had backcountry surf & turf and tacos. It’s always great to get out there with him (and my cousin!). He’s 68 and still crushing it. Champion.

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Thanksgiving Hut Adventure

It takes a special friend to forgo family and be willing to travel over Thanksgiving weekend. Luckily I have one of those friends. In short, our phone call goes like this:

Me: “Hey”

Him: “Hey”

Me: “I have a kinda crazy plan for Thanksgiving...”

Him: “I’m in!”

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The plan? Rent a backcountry hut, fill it with friends, build a pulk and lug up a turkey + all the fixings for Thanksgiving. Ok, maybe not that crazy, but certainly fun.

He’s not lying, he books tickets from Seattle to Denver shortly after our phone call. After looking through the huts we settle on Jackal Hut, part of the 10th Mountain Hut system. Not too far from the front range and close to Vail where about half of our guests live (this will end up being very fortuitous, but I’ll get to that later).

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The hut is only 3 miles from where we park but it climbs 2,400ft. We’re fully loaded and then some. I have snowshoes & skis on my pack and then the pulk which has 2 12lb turkeys, 2 pies, various bottles and bladders of wine and who knows what else. Halfway up, when I’m seriously regretting my offer to haul all this up, I do a mental approximation of the weight in the pulk - 50 lbs at least.

The first half of the way up has patchy snow and mud (makes the pulk pulling almost impossible), thankfully the second half is snow covered and much better (though still insanely steep). We make it up to the hut around 3pm, exhausted, but in good spirits. Time to get this turkey cooking and the bread proofing.

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Getting the woodburning oven up to a good heat works surprisingly well. I’m nervous that actually cooking the turkey for 3 hours won't be so easy… it turns out to be a little finicky but the turkey comes out looking awesome (no one took a picture, wtf). The bread also comes out nice after rising for a few hours. The rest of the crew chips in and makes green beans, mac and cheese, potatoes, stuffing, cranberries and gravy. After stuffing ourselves and downing a few glasses of my Seattle friend’s home-made wine we all agree that persevering to get all this up here was worth it. Now we have to eat more so I don’t have to carry it down!

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Day 2 brings another 3 guests, 6” of snow, skiing and turkey #2. This one has been precooked and smoked and requires much less effort but tastes amazing, especially with all the leftovers from the night before.

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Day 3 it’s still snowing. After skiing and lazing around the hut we descend down to the cars (it takes less than ½ the time it took to get up). There is about a foot of snow on the cars and the snow is flying horizontally. The road back to the highway is flat and even with the low visibility I don’t think too much of the snow, until we get to the highway. The plows have been busy… plowing us in behind a 4 foot high wall of snow, ice and grit. I should have known better, but that’s irrelevant now. After using snowshoes and hands to shovel a hole for the car to fit through I back up and get ready to gun it through (again no pictures, sorry!). My friends are ready to push from behind to get me over the hump if need be (it was needed). I make it over and we slowly crawl on the highway back towards I-70. Cars are in the ditch all over the place and the snow keeps getting worse. When we get back in cell range we discover I-70 has been closed. There’s no way I’m turning around and going back over the pass to try to get out (the usual 1.5 hours back to Boulder is estimated at 6 hours).

Thankfully one of our hut crew lives in Minturn (where we are stranded). We head back there and wait until the rest of the group shows up. It’s decided that in exchange for dinner and beers we can all sleep on his floor for the night. Empire Records on Netflix it is, slumber party style!

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