Biking the Iditarod Trail in Review

In Alaska, the Iditarod Sled Dog Race is a sign of the coming spring. Each day in March gains minutes of daylight while the sun/snow combination delivers bright energy and motivation after months of dark winter.

The race has a ceremonial start that weaves through Anchorage’s trails, lined with people cheering the mushers and dogs on their journey. The teams then head north to officially start their runs toward, what to most of us, is relatively unknown: a 1,000-mile route through remote and cold territory from Knik Lake to Nome.

As a kid, I was loosely familiar with the village and checkpoint names along the route because we followed dog teams closely in school. Village and checkpoint names became slightly more familiar when my dad went to ski, bike, and race the winter route to McGrath a handful of times. As a kid, I mostly understood that my dad was skiing or riding “in the middle of nowhere” and that he had a really puffy jacket. He packed a lot of Pringles as snacks, and beyond that my understanding was mostly “see ya when you’re back home.”

Inadvertently, the dogs and my dad both gave me the inspiration to check out the Iditarod trail myself. Alaska is expansive and many of its rural Alaska Native communities aren’t on road networks — travel to and from typically requires hopping aboard several small planes. Biking the Iditarod route is an intimate, visceral way to see and experience more of Alaska’s environments and communities. I was drawn to take on this kind of adventure! Taking part in the formal bike/ski/running race on the route was appealing, but the event was beyond my budget. Instead, I got pumped to use my funds and energy for riding the route on my own.

Gear things

Temperatures along the Iditarod route can hover around freezing in the spring sunshine and drop to below -40 degrees F in the interior and northern sections. Salsa lent me a Mukluk fat-tire bike that I rigged up to be ready for all of these conditions. I re-greased the bearings and moving parts with a lightweight cold-weather grease — key to prevent moving pieces from seizing up in extreme cold. I mounted a Salsa rack on the back of my bike to load with bags, along with Salsa Anything Cages on the fork for easy access to smaller gear. With Revelate Designs stuff sacks, frame bag, and Pronghorn handlebar harness, I was able to load my bike with all the gear I needed.

I took a self-supported approach to this Nome ride. Throughout the route I relied on the gear I carried on my bike and the food resupply boxes I had shipped out to a handful of villages. The Iditarod Trail is lined with many public-use safety cabins in place for mushers, snow machiners, skiers, runners, bikers, and anyone on route to use as refuge from elements. Some safety cabins are sturdy, well insulated and have reliable wood stoves. Others are plywood windbreaks. All are appreciated when it’s cold and the wind is biting. Typically you have to cut your own wood for the stove to heat up safety cabins. For this, I was happy to have strapped a small folding saw onto my fork so I could produce some heat.

My sleep set up was a -40-degree F/C sleeping bag, a winter-rated inflatable sleeping pad, and a bivy sack. Paired with my down jacket and pant layers, I felt relatively prepared to sleep on the snow down to -40 to -50 degrees F. On route, I experienced a good mix of sleeping out, sleeping in safety cabins, or in schools/community centers in villages.

Village schools and community centers were often generous enough to open up buildings as warming spaces for people traveling on the trail. The opportunity to meet and interact with Iditarod trail locals and communities in these places was a highlight of the ride for me. Many locals followed the dog race/bike race trackers online and they were often surprised when I rolled up separate from the publicized events. I felt welcomed and supported in each village, locals snowmachining on the outskirts of town and in town always stopped to respectfully check in. People look out for each other and are willing to offer help or insight. Locals would ask me about the trail, my ride, what I had been seeing, and whether I was warm enough. In exchange I could ask about their lives in these remote and beautiful areas. People shared about local happenings — elders’ birthday parties, events at the school, local animal action, and the pride they have in their families and the places they are from/live in.

My insulating layers ranged from the base layers that I never took off to a mega-puffy down jacket and down pants, with many fleece or synthetic layers in between (see my full wardrobe laid out in the photo below). The base layers, fleece top, and fleece hat quite literally never left my body. I shifted through wearing the various insulating jackets and pants depending on time of day, wind, and terrain, all of which play into how the temperature feels.

Logistics

The Iditarod Trail route alternates slightly each year. Even years take a northern route, odd years take a southern route. To navigate my ride on the northern route, I had a GPS track downloaded onto a Garmin eTrex. This technology is relatively old school but remains really reliable in cold temps with AA lithium batteries. I started my ride about a week before the dog race trail markers were set. This meant at the start I followed my GPS track paired with a packed snowmachine track and permanent trail markers pinned in trees or along the trail. About halfway into my ride, I was passed by the dog race “trail breakers” who blew through on snow machines, throwing orange stakes in the ground as they went. This felt monumental as it meant a better marked and packed trail moving forward. It also meant I would be joined by dog teams on the route.

Prior to leaving for my ride, I had packed food/fuel/battery resupply boxes and shipped them to five villages on the route so I could pick them up along the way. I filled the boxes with non-perishable food (instant ramen, freeze-dried meals, jars of peanut butter, junk food, and so many cookies) that fueled me on the trail. I planned for about 5,000 calories per day but found myself hungry, often scrounging for more food as I passed through villages. Keeping warm in -40 degrees F/C requires more energy than I had calculated. Now I know!

I carried an MSR reactor stove and fuel canisters to melt snow for water and to make meals. Canister fuel is notorious for not working below freezing temps, but a friend shared with me how to hack this setup by placing the canister in a bowl of warm water when using the stove. That trick, and sleeping with a fuel canister to keep it warm, meant for efficient snow melting/water boiling.

Bike gear

• Salsa Mukluk C XT
• Salsa Alternator 190/197 rear rack
• Revelate Designs mini panniers
• Revelate Designs stuff sack strapped on rear rack
• Revelate Designs Pronghorn handlebar harness + stuff sack + Egress Pocket
• Revelate Designs frame bag
• Revelate Designs Feedbags x2 + Mag-Tank bag
• Salsa Anything Cage mounted on fork to carry stove
• Dogwood Designs pogies

Clothes/outerwear

• Feathered Friends Khumbu down parka and Helios down pants
• Synthetic insulating jacket
• Soft shell jacket with faux fur ruff
• Revelate Designs fleece top
• Wool base layer shirt x2
• Soft-shell bike pants
• Modified Skhoop synthetic insulating shorts
• Wool base layer pants x2
• Down mittens, midweight gloves, lightweight wool gloves
• Fleece-lined hat
• Fleece balaclava
• Buff x2
• 45NRTH Wølfgar bike boots
• Neoprene overbooties for biking (ended up mailing home!)
• Feathered Friends down booties for camp
• Wool socks x2
• Gore-Tex socks
• Ski goggles and clear sunglasses
• Sports bra and wool underwear

Electronics

• Garmin eTrex GPS
• Garmin InReach Tracker (not in photo)
• Black Diamond headlight
• Fenix bar-mounted light + spare batteries - Backup Petzel headlight - AA batteries (shipped to myself in resupply boxes)
• Red flashing rear light
• Battery block for charging
• Wall plug and charging chords

Sleep kit

• 40F/C rated sleeping bag
• Thermarest winter-rated inflatable sleeping bag + blow-up bag (blowing warm air from breath into pad causes ice buildup inside pad!)
• OR Helium bivy

Cook/water setup

• MSR Reactor stove + fuel canisters (resupplied in shipped boxes)
• 1 liter thermos + insulating sleeves x2
• 16oz Nalgene for warm drinks
• Collapsible bowl to insulate fuel canisters with warm water

Highlights:

● Interacting with local people and Iditarod volunteers as I rode through villages was one of the best parts of this ride. Communities along the route seem energized by the various travelers passing through. People cheer, ask questions, offer treats and just generally bring the route to life. A very nice man on a snowmachine about 10 miles out of Nikolai saw my bike light coming from out of the dark. He stopped, pulled a Capri-Sun out of his deep parka pocket and gave it to me. It was around -30 degrees F, but we chatted while I slurped down the bag of juice.

● There were several inches of fresh snow as I made my way toward the village of Ruby. The soft snow made the trail mostly unrideable and compelled me to push my bike. I was eager to get to town to find some warm solace and one of my food resupply boxes. I was lucky to befriend a Ruby local, Billy, on the long climb into town. He heard I was coming and went out to meet me with a coke. He offered me a cot, a warm place to sleep, and more reason to go back to Ruby someday.

● Cooking noodles in village school industrial kitchen spaces! Nourishing and surreal. This ride was made a million times more comfortable and possible thanks to teachers, principals, and communities opening up school buildings as warm safe havens. It’s a dream to have full range of a school building in the middle of the night.

● I was really cold, out of food, and didn’t know if my resupply box had made it as I rolled into the village of Unalakleet in a very late, dark-feeling night. I stumbled upon Peace On Earth Pizza, where the very kind owner was still bustling around at midnight. Right away he made me a large pizza and laid a mattress out in the salon that was attached to his pizza restaurant. This guy makes a pizza for every dog musher who comes through Unalakleet — his hospitality and enthusiasm extends to cold, exhausted bikers too.

● The “Blow Hole” is a notoriously windy section of the trail about 40 miles from Nome. For days leading up to it, people warned me of this section. The evening that I approached the mighty Blow Hole, a couple on a snowmachine stopped me, concerned that I was approaching it alone. “Big ground storm down there. Be careful.” I was cooked, pretty ready to wrap up this ride, and despite people’s many warnings, I didn’t feel like this could be much wilder than other sections of the route. The eight-ish miles were indeed windy. I rode through the drifted snow around 3 a.m. after a brief nap in the shelter cabin just before. (I was eager to make it to Nome!) I plugged in a warm surf rock playlist, unclipped my left boot from my pedal to brace myself in the 40-knot wind gusts, twisted my jacket hood to protect the right half of my face, and leaned hard into the wind to get it done. The absurdity was laughable.

● The quiet of vast, snowy landscapes and deep orange and pink sunrises and sunsets.

Lowlights:

● Riding into a -50-degree F headwind during the sea ice crossing — tough.

● The really, really, really slow and squeaking snow that makes bike tires feel like suction cups at -40-some degrees F — a real grind.

● Cold snow flecks melting and immediately encasing my bike’s brake caliper in ice, causing the wheel to seize in place — annoying! (Lowlight turned highlight thanks to the snowmachiners that gave me a bottle of Heet antifreeze to pour over and melt the issue away.)

● Pushing my bike through shin-deep snow along the Yukon River in whiteout conditions — not totally ideal.

● My face and body swelling up anytime I went indoors and started to thaw a bit — chipmunk vibes.

● Solo adventures are incredible, empowering, and special learning opportunities. At many points on this ride, the solitude felt hard! Sharing these places and experiences with other people makes them even better.

I arrived in Nome after 19 days of riding. The burled arch and friendly faces welcomed me to the end of my ride. This route challenged me with extremes I couldn’t have anticipated. I feel like I gained a deeper and really special appreciation for Alaska and the communities that give the state unique character and energy. I feel grateful for the opportunity to interact with and learn from people whose lives, histories, and communities are woven together with the Alaskan landscape and environment. I have more to learn and I am drawn to experiencing more of the state under my own power.