RMK Recon

RMK Recon

“Two men enter, one man leaves”-  Mad Max Beyond the Thunderdome.

     We might as well have been in the Thunderdome that day when we set out on RMKs.  Strikingly similar, our predicament was only slightly different;  Two sleds enter, one sled leaves. 
     Mountain sleds such as the Polaris RMKs are wonderful vehicles of wintertime joy.  They can take you to wilderness that you cannot access in any other practical manner other than by way of helicopter.  Along with this joy and freedom comes a notorious propensity for getting folks into places they have no business being in.         

     Alas, we were just trying to connect the dots.  Over coffee we had noticed a potential shortcut on Google Earth that would cut-off 7 or 8 miles en route to our cabin in Yentna country.  So a few weeks ago we agreed to backtrack from the cabin on our skandic super wide tracks to explored this potential new route from the West side over to the Kahiltna River.  Upon arrival we were dismayed to discover that the river was flowing through a formidable canyon at this point and as we peered at the rapids some 400 vertical feet below we felt our hopes dash before our eyes.  Before we left the scene we found a different vantage point and noticed an inside bend on the other side of the river that was of gentler terrain. In addition there were sections of the river near there that had frozen over completely begging to be crossed; “There’s still hope,” I thought. 

End of the line.

     “Hey I have an idea,” I said to Bryan at school a few days later.  There was a small conversational pause that hung in the air; Bryan and I have been palling around long enough to be able to read each other’s tones and I’m sure Bryan was probably thinking something like: “Oh boy here it comes.”
      I finished my thought with enthusiasm. “Let’s bust out the RMKs this weekend and see if we can connect the dots from this side!”  I was pretty excited about the prospect of riding my 800 RMK, a far more powerful and nimble sled than the superwides.  Intel from our first attempt wasn’t promising on completing the through-trail but how would we know for sure unless we tried a little harder? The proposed exploratory mission would tell us for sure and it was the perfect excuse to get out and do some brapping .  For those unaware, the word brap is a primitive onomatopoeia used to replicate the sound of two stroke engine winding up.  The ample snowpack had settled down and conditions were prime for a good romp through the deep powder.
     “Okay.” he said.  It’s not hard to talk Bryan into stuff, at least for now.
     The ride-in was just as magical as we hoped it would be. Deep fluffy snow cushioned our every move as we carved, jumped and otherwise brapped our way through miles of wild, beautiful country.  Untouched rolling swamps took us past glacial erratics topped with sprouting black spruce trees.

Erratic sprouting spruce hair.

   After linking several more swamps we came upon our first major obstacle.  It was a valley that descended 200 vertical feet to a creek and swamp below.  Overcoming it involved carefully picking our way down a steep hill riddled with alder patches, crossing the swamp then finding a way to blast up the other side.  Luckily we discovered an old cat trail on the other side that took us nicely to the top.  We were surprised to find an old 1000 gallon fuel tank sitting at the top. 
      The Kahilta, however remote and wild has been the object of exploratory mining since the early 1900’s.  This tank of fuel was most likely part of someones mining plans at some point. “You good on fuel?” I said as I pointed to the giant tank that was protected somewhat by a few large mystery panels.

Fuel anyone?

     We continued along an old seismic line stopping a few times to look at the GPS on Bryan’s phone.  Finally we could see the topography in front of us start to drop.  Before us lie the crux move of our connect-the-dots route: The Kahiltna gorge.
   As I nosed my 800 RMK downwards I proceed only because I had confidence in our ability to ride our way back up these formidable hills even if it took a few tries to do so.  The 2.5 inch lugs on our tracks coupled with ridiculous horsepower enable these machines to swim through the deepest of powder, overflow and even water.   They are no-doubt incredible machines. 

2.5 in paddle track on the
800 RMK

     As amazing as they are, these machines operate in a mechanical world that is imperfect at best and can be at-times unforgiving. With this being said,  I can say that I wasn’t too surprised when Bryan’s sled shit-the-bed near the bottom of the last hill of the canyon that we had fought so hard to climb ourselves down into. Interesting.
     We were less than 300 feet from the Kahiltna River itself and only 1000 feet from the GPS point completing our connect-the-dots route on the other side of the river. 
     Ironically the problem with Bryan’s sled turned out to be the same thing that stranded me at the cabin a few years back. The voltage regulator had failed causing a loss of all electronics.  If it was just a matter of losing the lights and gauges it wouldn’t be a big deal but since the engine is fueled by electronic fuel ignition it proved to be a show stopper.  Bryan tried new plugs. Nothing.  Finally after letting it set for a while we could get it started but it wouldn’t rev high enough to spin the track.  We spent over an hour troubleshooting it.  I peered over the final bench and could see the dancing water of the Kahiltna coursing through the canyon.  
     “Do we have reception here?” I asked.  Bryan checked his phone.
     “No.” I was hoping that we could contact Don, the head mechanic at Hatchers Pass Polaris to see if he had any thoughts on the matter.  

White lightning has seen
better days.

     “Well, I think we should start making our way back,” I said.  Bryan knew that we couldn’t spend all day trying to fix it.  We were about 20 miles from the truck and if we waited too long we would be in the dark.  It was unclear how long it would take us to scratch our way back out of this rugged country.  We agreed on a plan of action to get both of us back to the truck on one snowmachine.  Bryan grabbed a few things off of his sled.  
     I blasted up the first steep bench in our down tracks and Bryan started crawling up the hill on all-fours behind me.  The trail was too new for the snow to be work-hardened enough to stand on.  Every step would punch the hiker through the trail.  A crawling technique dispersing the hikers weight turned out to be a better plan, at least on the uphills. 
     So went the progress; crawl up the hills, ride double on the flats...lather, rinse, repeat.  We traded off a few times.  It was arduously slow and uncomfortable riding double but before long we made it up to the swamps which were comparatively flat and therefore easier.  Luckily I have a small cooler that fits perfectly on my aluminum gas can rack. Before we left I stuffed it full with extra clothes, food and supplies.   This cooler worked as an auxiliary seat and proved its weight in gold and supported Bryan all the way back to the truck.  
     When we finally got back we were chilled because we had gotten sweaty and it felt a little bit like the scene in Dumb and Dumber when Lloyd and Harry are frozen to each other on the back of the scooter. On the way back home in the truck we formulated a detailed plan to recover Bryan’s RMK.  We would return the next day with our superwides (outfitted with winches), Bryan’s dad Ernie, and new attitudes. 

Our predicament couldn't have been worse than this.
We found a submerged dozer on the way.  Bad omen?I tried to drive
it out but it wouldn't budge.

Look how close we were. Blue is our normal route to the cabin.  We were so close to
connecting orange and green.

Superwides with winches help tremendously in situations
like this.

Hauling white lightning back to civilization

What it Takes

What it Takes

Becoming a World Champion

     Bryan cinched down the rubber straps on the bike rack on his Subaru.  “Good to go,” he said.  We piled into the car and set off towards Talkeetna.  We would park at the Whigmi parking lot today.  I would find out later that Whigmi is an acronym;  What Have I Got Myself Into...interesting.  
     We were training for the Talkeetna Trio Fat Tire World Championships and we were headed out for our second training run of the season.  We knew the trail would be soft today, and that we probably had a hard day of pedalling ahead of us, but we also knew that becoming a champion isn’t always easy; Becoming a world champion, we figured is probably even harder still.  We discussed that regular garden-variety champions would probably be content completing just one training session before a race, but for a world champion it should probably be more like two or three. Good talk. 
     Less than a mile into our ride I got a flat.  “Shit.”  The slow leak that I’d known about had advanced to a not-so-slow leak and we knew that we shouldn’t proceed.  We weighed our options and decided to retreat back to the Subaru, then back to my house to swap out for a new inner tube.  I grabbed the small pump out of my bag and pumped up the tire just enough to be able to limp back to the car.  This was clearly a non-championship moment.  It felt good to get it out of the way before the race.
     Sure enough after inspecting the inner tube in my garage Bryan noticed a previous shoddy patch job of mine had busted open causing air to leak out.  We installed the new tube, aired it up and headed back down the road again.  “This feels like dejavu,” I said as I chewed on a piece of Bryan’s moose jerky. 
      “It’s a good thing the flat tire happened now and not at the World's,” Bryan said.  FYI athletes that compete at the highest level of a sport sometimes refer to world championships simply as the world’s.  
     Eventually we were able to pick up where we left off and managed to put in a solid 12-mile ride that included a variety of terrain.  The best riding on this day was next to the road on packed snow machine trails.  What would the trail conditions be for the race? I wondered.

A cool app called Relive charted our course.

     Elite athletic competitions from around the globe have a myriad of qualifying standards that determine who is allowed to compete.  The Olympics, for example is well known for holding qualifying events leading up to the games.  In professional sports, such as basketball and hockey, it’s bracketed tournaments that determine who can play for the final championship game.  
      It might surprise you to learn that to qualify for the Talkeetna Trio Fat Tire World Championships all we needed was a credit card.  Don’t tell anyone but it’s true; We bought our way into the world’s.  After we pressed the submit button on the registration page we knew that we were committed.  champions are like that; Plus, in fine print at the bottom it said “no refunds.”  As I read all of the details about the race I was glad to see that there is no penalty for walking up any of the big hills.  Champions will do whatever it takes even if it means getting off the bikes and walking.  
     I am grateful that a couple of dark horses, like Bryan and myself, can step into the limelight of such a prestigious event as complete underdogs.  The stage is now set for (possibly) one of the biggest upsets in international sporting history.  It is a world championship after all.  I hope the trophies aren’t too big for the bike rack on Bryan’s Subaru.  
     Okay, back to reality.  Truth-be-told, our approach to the race is much different; We plan to tour the course, smell the roses along the way (frozen as they may be) and, by golly, have some fun.  We are not very fast (at all) and commonly refer to our combined participation in the race as “Team Tugboat.” Did I mention the free beer at the after party? 
      This will be the fifth running of the Trio and we are excited to be a part of it.  The race itself is dedicated to the memory of local Talkeetnan, Mike Sterling, who was an avid year-round biker and family man.  Sadly Mike passed away with liver disease.  I was fortunate to have had Mike’s two kids in school at SuValley and I know that he would be very proud of who they have become in adulthood.  In addition, his passion for biking lives-on through this race and I’m sure he would be amazed at how much fat tire biking has taken-off in the Talkeetna area.  Our local trails are extensive and beautiful.  It’s like we have our own Kincaid Park right here in Talkeetna. 
    The course starts and ends on Main Street in downtown Talkeetna, right in front of Denali Brewing (a major sponsor of the race) . Bryan and I will be competing in the 20 mile race.  There is also a 40, and 60 mile division.  Maybe one day we will strive to tackle the longer races but for now we will be content competing in the twenty miler at the worlds.  God that sounds awesome.

Subaru bike rack

Fresh pow is a good kickstand

Team Tugboat taking a small rest