Tuscobia 2021
This is Eric the Embark Fox. I reached out to race directors Helen & Chris Scotch a few months ago about volunteering at the Tuscobia 160, as well as handing out Embark Maple Energy samples to participants. Honestly, they were politely guarded in their reply and came across a bit skeptical. I respect that. They’re not really the mother hen types, so this was a bit of juxtaposition when you consider the 160 miles of frigid northwoods forest they send you out in to fend for yourself.
They needed a volunteer for the New Year's Eve overnight shift at the TBD and possibly outside (but maybe in a heated tent) 160 mile turn-around, so I signed up! WHOO HOOO!! This was also the start of the 80 mile race, so it would be a good opportunity to cheer on and support as many folks as possible as they embark on their journey.
Gear-check & the pre-race meeting was a delightful smorgasbord of emotion, a masked reunion of seasoned racers reminiscing races past and nervous newbies alike. The fresh snow and falling temperatures created its own energy for venturing into the unknown. I hit a deer on the drive up and had to make a few repairs to the power steering/brakes our van, Helga the Astro, before the temps dropped. I spent a balmy 17 deg evening in my 20 bag getting re-aquainted with my well-traveled lodging companion.
The start of the 160 Foot/Ski occurred 6 am Friday morning. The trail conditions were soft, with the fresh snow barely set up for human-powered travel. Conditions Friday were in the 20s [F] and humid, but for the sake of the trail and the effort required to traverse it, the temp couldn’t drop soon enough.
My first responsibilities were helping Chris & Bob prepare the Ojibwa Checkpoint, ~45 miles east of Rice Lake & ~35 miles west of Park Falls along the Tuscobia Trail. If anyone was at Ojibwa, they were able to see the legendary Chalayne in action. Chalayne is seasoned at organizing check-points/aid stations, who has both the personal & professional knowledge, skill, experience and passion to see that folks can safely make their way. She also has great taste in music, which helps keep the good energy going through the nights. Due to the difficult conditions on the Western half of the trail, the first folks were not expected to be at the turn around until day-break, so I was able to celebrate New Years at the Ojibwa CP! We danced the night away!
I arrived at the new turn around & check-point, the Northern Pines Resort on Butternut Lake, in the middle of the night. By now the temps had dropped to below 0F. Radek & I setup signs & blinky lights directing racers off the lake and towards the check-point cabin. Whew, we’re indoors! After a couple hours of shut-eye I woke to the next shift of volunteers (Jess & Dan) milling about, and then a few more. We watched the first foot racer (Kevin) approach the turn to the cabin out on the lake and keep going. Wait, keep going!? The second foot racer (Jeff) was close-ish behind and tried to holler & wave Kevin back. Underdressed for the elements, I jumped out the door and chased Kevin down the lake! He was in the zone, taking one step at a time & concentrating so hard on the trail ahead that he completely missed the check-point signs! He asked my name and personally thanked me, by name, for helping correct his course. I was astonished. Even though I was dressed as fox, he made the effort to make this simple human connection. I can’t explain how good this felt knowing someone took the time, the energy, the thought after pulling a sled for over 26 hours through miserable conditions. And he wasn’t the only one that made me feel like I was part of a community.
A few additional foot racers arrived at the CP before the start of the 80 mile race at 10am. These folks are unbelievably tough, and I was humbled merely by their presence. The Eastern terminus of the trail had firmed up, providing needed confidence, and the temps were expected to continue dropping. I mulled over everyone’s gear, discussing strategies for staying warm, hydrated and fueled. I was particularly interested in an out-of-place 29+ Tumbleweed Prospector (ie not a fatbike). I talked with the rider who was questioning his sanity to even start, but with conditions improving this self-described desert dude decided to pedal on. YEEEHHHAAAWW! I have a lot of admiration for the one-bike “run-what-ya-brung” philosophy. Logic be damned, I’m going to ride my bicycle, and I’m going to have fun!
My phone was frozen so I didn’t get any pictures of the slinking lake snake of racers beginning their journey West. I also began my Westward race back to the Ojibwa CP to get ready for their arrival. Being a self-supported race, the checkpoints are not there so much to help participants, as to give volunteers a warm-ish place where they can make sure all folks are accounted for. We check racers in and are asked to enforce an “indoor” time limit, and if a racer DNFs they’re supposed to be prepared to bivy outside until transportation arrives. Some racers choose to use their time repacking gear, drying out layers, refilling/thawing water, or just getting off their feet. An appropriate selection of not-frozen food & beverage was available, enough to take an edge off and give variation, but not what is going to make you comfortable or keep you going if you’re ill-prepared. Chalayne manages this so well, and veteran racers know not to expect. Being said, the grilled cheese, soup & Embark salted maple steamers seemed to really hit the spot! Shhhh!! This evening dipped to -20 F. Again I cosy’d up in Helga just outside the CP, this time in my -20 deg bag. I splurged on this bag when I was too stubborn to reserve accommodations for an avalanche safety class, an experience that helped me fully embrace the wild world of winter adventure that comes with knowing how to use gear.
Racers arrived at Ojibwa over the next day with trail tails telling of their experiences. Cycling legends flew in fast & flurry-ious in the early afternoon energized for the trail ahead, while other racers determined to survive contemplated their existence through the depths of a dark and cold night.
A convergence of conditions, both internal & external, created a unique experience for everyone, connecting participants, volunteers & spectators alike. We’re all on the same trail, working through our challenges, trying to get where we need to go.
Thank you people of Tuscobia for helping me get there.
