What Lays Beneath

Snow's weird. Well its primary constituent, water, is weird. In fact it's one of the weirdest compounds known. The only substance that is naturally solid, liquid and vapour at the earth's surface. One of very few substances whose density isn't linear with temperature (the others are mostly rare elements), it's densest at +4C which is why ice floats on water and forms on the surface of bodies of water and not at the bottom.

We woke to -25C. Putting a bike together in those temperatures is "interesting". A bent chainring should have been swapped out but I'd forgotten the adaptor so some careful rebending with a set of adjustable spanners was in order. The day was forecast to get warmer, a lot warmer, by the time we headed down to the mandatory gear inspection and race brief it had risen to -15C. Two hours later it was -5C.

Race day and it was just below freezing as we headed down to sign on. It wasn't even nippy standing around on the river waiting for the start.

The start

Phil Clarke at the start

Simon and Lisa Bryant

The start was the typical dash. We've 11km of this to spread the field out a bit and already the conditions feel harder than two years ago. I keep pace with Phil Clarke, one of the many British riders in the race and who I'd ridden with for a couple of days on the Highland Trail in 2017. We pass Mike (Collins) who'd had a puncture within the first kilometre.

I'm on my limit when Phil pulls away as we work at passing a couple of other riders and he's leaving the first checkpoint as I head in. 47mins to there, a full eleven minutes slower than last time. Hmm might be a long day. There's a long minor road section before the first of the proper off-road sections. It feels firm until I get to a lead where there's soft windblown snow across the track and I'm off. Time to let some air out of the tyres. Soon I'm at checkpoint two.

The forest road on the way to checkpoint two

Each of the race distances (66, 150 & 300km) have separate sheets to sign. I notice there's only five numbers before mine. "Is this the first sheet?", "yes". Gulp, I wasn't expecting that.

The next bit is one of the pain in the ass sections and is unrideable. It's so narrow and convoluted twisting in and around trees that the organisers can't use snowmobiles to create the trail but have to flatten it using snowshoes. It doesn't feel as bad as last time and soon I'm on the lake.

It's definitely warm on the lake, probably +5C, and it's hard work. Ahead, still some way in the distance, I notice riders getting off and walking before remounting for a short distance then walking again. I stop to let more air out of my tyres. There's lots of overflow on the lake, these are definitely walking sections but the rest is mostly ridable - it's just a case of choosing the right line and speed for any one  obstacle. I catch one of the riders I'd seen earlier. No, no, no, NO! He's walking in the main tyre tracks with his bike to the side thus wrecking any semblance of line for those following. He probably thought I was a grumpy old git going past.



Ice lying on water isn't static, it lives and breathes in response to the weather and its immediate environment. One factor is variations in atmospheric pressure, these cause the ice to fall with high pressure and rise in low pressure. These changes lead to cracks forming in the ice and the underlying water overflowing on to the surface.

With dry, i.e. uncovered by snow, surfaces this water will freeze if air temperatures are below zero but remain liquid in warmer conditions. More interesting is what happens if the ice is blanketed with snow.

In such circumstances the snow acts as an insulator (well it's the air inside the snow that actually does the insulating) and the water remains in liquid form at temperatures well below freezing, the actual temperature depending on the depth of snow and ambient conditions. Unless someone has passed across the overflow then it's effectively hidden and the first you know about it is a sudden wet squidge. If air temps are well below zero then the water can freeze near instantly to boots, skis, drivetrain.

As much of a worry is the thought always at the back of your mind that this isn't actually overflow but a break in the ice.

The next rider is some way away and it takes a while to catch them: I'd pull close on the tricky sections but then they'd pull out a lead when it was easier. Eventually I was close enough to see that it was a woman rider and when I passed I noted that she was riding the 150 as well. Her troubles were caused by too high tyre pressures for the conditions. I was in fifth! By the time I turned left at the route junction I looked back and she was just a dot in the distance.

Finally, after 11km of sheer bloody effort I'm off the lake. Last time this had been fast smooth ice. A bit of road (still snow/ice) and then it's the longest and steepest hill on the route. "On your right" a voice announces, I wobble and fall off the marked track. "Shit! Sorry!" It's the woman again. It takes me several minutes to find purchase to climb back on the track.

I catch her on the descent and she passes me again on the next section of road. I see her for the last time at the third checkpoint. Also there is Phil. He's been there a while sorting out a chain dropping issue. I leave on my own. For the next few hours the only riders, indeed people, I see will be at the checkpoints.

Checkpoint three

More track, more road (with reindeer!) and more track get me to checkpoint four. The sunny morning has turned to a cloudy afternoon and it's really hard to make out features on the track. It's the Bridge of Doom next and the descent to it sees me headlong in to the snow at the side of the track as I catch a rut where one of the riders ahead has pushed through the surface. The bridge isn't as bad as last time - it gets its name due a competitor who fell in the stream and carried on rather than returning to the checkpoint five hundred metres back. He lost most of his toes to frostbite. The second pain in the ass section follows.

The Bridge of Doom (photo from 2017)

A longish road section then tracks through the forest with more comedy falls - they don't hurt, other than pride, the snow's too soft and deep for that.

Even several metres of dry snow can't support the weight of a bike and rider so we are following snowmobile tracks through the woods. The machines are a tracked rubber band (for want of a better description) with an outboard pair of steering skis. This has a micro effect on how and where you ride.

The tracks thus formed need time for the cold air to firm up the disturbed snow, it's almost impossible to ride on fresh snowmobile tracks, especially uphill.

How quickly and how steadily the driver has passed along the track can affect the firmness of the track: a little too much throttle can lift the front end just enough that the skis don't compact the snow quite as much.

I'm following the line of a steerer ski when my front wheel disappears and I'm over the bars. Giggling I look at the bike - the downtube is lying on the snow surface. I lift the bike out and carry on.

In and out of checkpoint five without stopping other than to sign the sheet. I need to get the next bit done before dark as it's probably the most technical. The steep descent done it's lights on and I'm reduced to walking to the next checkpoint after a couple of snowmobiles pass in the opposite direction.

On the trails after checkpoint five.

Checkpoint six (out of eight) is actually just over halfway in distance and just under halfway in time. I spend time in the hut by the fire drying gloves and buffs whilst eating as much as possible. Two Italian riders arrive, they are on the 300km race, then a while later Mike turns up. He must have been storming to catch up after fixing the tyre at the start.

Mike leaves before me but I catch him again on the long descent back to the starting river. He's having a bad time mentally with the conditions. I ride with him for a while but eventually the elastic snaps and I'm on my own. The forest track gives way to minor road and I reach the river and pass through the village. A food stop under the street lights then onward. It's 34km between CPs 6 & 7 and it feels very lonely.

Riders also have an effect on the trail - follow someone who hasn't lowered their tyre pressure enough for the conditions and there'll be wiggles in the tyre tracks as they slip around and dips in the track as they apply too much torque and the tyre begins to dig in. In the worst case they'll step off or fall off and leave holes in the trail.

There are so many micro conditions to contend with: breaks in the trees allow the wind to fill over the track or the sun to soften it.

There's a light behind, it can only be Mike. I push on, the gap closing as I reach the climbs, extending as I hit the descents. At the turn on to the forest track there's no light in sight. I push on. This section just seems to last for ever as you follow forest tracks in the night. Like last time I smell the wood smoke from the fire before I see the shelters of the checkpoint. I spend time holding various bits of clothing to the fire to dry them out. I'm about to leave when Mike arrives. He's thinking of kipping here for a while.

A snowmobile pulls in to the checkpoint and leaves again just after I've got going. The track is now too soft to ride so it's more pushing. Eventually I get on to a forestry track and the surface improves. The snowmobile is heading back, the driver signals me to stop: "man then woman ahead, about 5km on the lake, but woman is not looking good. If you see her check with her." It turns out that she'd taken one of the many tracks leading off the route on the lake and rung race HQ to say she was lost. Somehow she got back on track and finished in fifth.

I'm halfway across the lake and all of a sudden the wheels come off. Not the bike, me. I've bonked. Apart from the road sections it's all been hard work, the track surface just soft enough that you were pushing maybe a centimetre or more of snow in front of your wheels. It was like riding with a binding brake. I've eaten enough, I probably ate 2/3rds of the food I took and we'd stocked up with more than we thought we'd need. I'd also drunk plenty. I walk significant parts of the track across the lake.

Mike's light appears on the lake behind me and the catch is made just before we reach the far bank. I stop to put air in my rear tyre (I think a drop in temperature had also had an effect) and apart from his rear light blinking in the distance it's the last I'll see of him. The hill over to the river is a long steady drag, still mostly rideable but I have to walk a couple of bits.

This is how low my tyre was when I pumped it up!

Down on to the river, turn left and the last checkpoint is a kilometre away. In and out with no stopping, just the 11km back to the finish. This is interminable - I ride 500m then walk 500m. I look back, the white of the iced river fades away with distance until it merges in to the dark of the forest. Nothing. I'm on my own. Those 11km take 1hr40mins.

I lean the bike against the wall, stop the Garmin and open the door. A small round of applause from the volunteers manning the desks, a handshake from Alex. I'm done.

19hrs54mins

I finished in seventh place. I'd lost an hour to Mike in the last 20km. The next finishers, the first on foot, arrive nearly three and a half hours after me. It's five hours until the next fat biker arrives. It seems that the seven of us were well out in front of everyone else for the entire race (Mike's puncture at the start excepted). We all had roughly an hour between our finishing times. Phil gained an impressive third place in 16:04

The finishing times

I grab a couple of naps - trying to sleep in a sleeping bag rated to -30C in a heated storeroom isn't easy. Cath left the halfway hut at 23:03 so I reckoned she'd be finishing sometime between 1pm and 2pm. She eventually finished at 9 minutes past two as second lady on bike and in 18th place overall.

Cath receiving her prize from the organiser Alex.

Conditions were much harder than two years ago, only ten competitors finished in under 24hrs compared to over twenty then. The first lady was Hungarian but on the roster she'd put "UK" so I'm not sure if she's dual nationality. If she is then five of the top seven were Brits. Apparently she'd recently completed the Seven Summits which might explain her amazing aerobic performance.


Trail conditions required constant attention, you couldn't relax for a moment in case you caught the edge of a shallow rut or failed to spot a post hole. My shoulders were sore for a couple of days afterwards with the effort of keeping the bike upright and pointing forward.

Full results here: https://www.rovaniemi150.com/results/rov150-2019/


Here's the Strava activity link:


Is this going to be like hangovers? "Never again!"

Revisiting a bike build

A couple of years ago I built up a Singular Puffin fat bike for the Rovaniemi 150 bike race. My first fat bike, it would take a little getting used to and there was a good chance I'd have to modify one or two things.

One of the things that I definitely didn't get right during the Rovaniemi was tyre pressures. I made the classic newbie mistake of running too high a pressure so struggled when the snow got softer. I'd fitted a 28T chainring but since I've rarely used the 11T cog I thought I'd drop down a couple of teeth so ordered a 26T oval chainring and fitted that. Bling gold so I can tell it apart from the 28T version!

Update

On a ride a few weeks later I  noticed a crunching noise when in the 42T cog. Bike up on workstand to see what's going on. It turned out to be at the chainring end. There were two BB spacers on the drive side and one on the NDS so swapped a spacer from the drive side to the NDS thereby moving the chainline inward by 2.5mm and it was sorted. There's still plenty of clearance between chain and tyre.

A weekend in the Lakes doing some rather steep stuff led me to realise that the brakes (Avid BB7s) were a little underpowered so I moved the 180mm rotor from the front to the back and added a 200mm rotor to the front, except ... Hope rotors don't play well with Avid brakes - the tabs on the pads foul the "rivets" connecting the inner part of the rotor to the braking surface. The easiest solution was to cut the tabs down. It turned out to be the one practical solution I later found when searching online.

That's a big rotor!

And so's that!

At the time I noted that I'd take time to get used to the handlebars. Earlier this year I built up a Salsa Spearfish and rather than buy a new set of Jones Bars I moved the bars to the Spearfish and put some On-One Mary bars on the fat bike. The Loop Bars felt right on the Spearfish so it obviously wasn't the bars themselves that were the problem but I put things to one side and got on with riding and generally doing stuff. As it happened the Mary Bars didn't feel right either so time to have a ponder and mull things over.

It dawned on me that Ian, the previous owner of the Puffin, was a little shorter than me so he'd have cut the fork steerer to suit him. Basically the bars were too low. As it happened Jones had recently released a new model of Loop Bar, one with an inbuilt rise of 2.5". A set were duly ordered.

They didn't get put on the Puffin straight away, they went onto Cath's Stooge to give her a chance to see if they suited her. A month or so later and she's decided they aren't for her, so ...

Put Cath's Stooge Moto bars back on her bike and remove the On-One Marys from mine.

Jeff Jones recommends that the brake and gear levers are situated as close to the bar joint as possible but I wanted to use a set of Revelate Williwaw Pogies with these bars (See this post about the pogies I used during the Rovaniemi 150) so I needed to make sure that wherever I fitted them they weren't going to interfere with one another. It turned out that about 50mm further out towards the ends of the bars felt right. It's worth noting that Revelate state that the Williwaws aren't for use with Jones Loop Bars but they seem all right to me, angling the bars downwards appears to help in this regard.

While last time I'd gone for a double colour taping scheme this time I've gone for a single colour, red, but the bars are double wrapped which will help with cold temps.

I'd got a set of ESI Chunky Monkey foam grips so rather than use bar tape to cover the bars all the way to the levers I'd use a section of the grip on the inside of the levers and with luck this would also grip on to the bar tape at that point. The last time I'd fitted these grips I'd really struggled but this time a good dousing of Iso-Propyl Alcohol and they went on in seconds. The inner sections were really easy since they were so short. Then the levers, then the longer outer section.

The last job was to angle the bars and then tighten down the levers to suit.

At the weekend I went for a test ride over on some new to me bridleways in the Forest of Bowland. Seems pretty sorted.

Sunlight and Storm

With the media predicting another national crisis - the mini beast from the east - for the weekend road riding was out of the equation. More fat bike action!

Cath had agreed to go on an all women's ride but there were a couple of blokes invited along so we headed up the Dale to Threshfield. It was all a bit nippy getting ready, even in the lee of some trees, but soon we were away.

I'd swiped Cath's pogies as they don't fit the bars on her Stooge. Unfortunately they don't quite fit the Mary bars either so although I used them today, I'll need some different bars in the future.

Pete and Jo on the climb up from Threshfield

There was quite a lot of ice on the track leading up on to the moor but it had a rough surface so was easy to ride on. I'd put too much air in the tyres and was bouncing around a bit so let a couple of PSI out and things were much better from then on.

Heading off Threshfield Moor

And then the sun came out!

Heading over towards Kilnsey and Mastiles Lane

A wintry upper Wharfedale ahead.

We got to the foot of Mastiles Lane just as the first shower hit. There was a discussion as to whether to head down the lane to the pub in Kilnsey but by the time we'd come to a decision (pub) it had cleared out so we changed our minds and headed up the lane.

The start of the climb up Mastiles Lane

Now I've only ever cleared the climb up the lane once, many years ago, but it was ideal conditions with all the usual loose material frozen in place so I just span away and crested the top without so much as a thought of dabbing.

Cath at the top of Mastiles Lane about to get clobbered by the next shower.

 Cath managed the steep part of the climb clean for the first time only to get blown off by the wind just before the very top.

A lunch break behind a convenient wall then it was round by Lee Gate Farm and back to Bordley. Of course as soon as we turned back in to the wind another shower hit. With no goggles it was painful riding, I could only look at the ground behind my front wheel and it was as much memory of where the track went that got me down to Bordley Farm.

Another shower arriving at Lee Gate farm.

We were now riding into the wind, hard work!

No sooner than we had got out of the wind in the shelter of the buildings than the shower passed and the sun came out!

The gang heading away from Bordley Farm.

Despite the wind, the temperature wasn't particularly cold and quite a bit of ground and puddles weren't frozen. This meant that there were a few brakes and rear mechs that got wet and then froze up. We spent a few minutes dealing with Jo's rear mech after it jammed.

Finally it was back down to Threshfield. Normally on this descent I have to hit the brakes quite hard at certain points. Today it was a block headwind and you had to pedal downhill! Only 21km but those kilometres were hard won.

Here's the Strava bit.

And the East wind doth blow ...

And we shall have snow

And what will poor bikers do then poor things?

Get the fat bikes out!

As our neighbour noted: "When you bought those (fat bikes) did you think you'd get to use them in this country?" Well we have done on occasion but it's been dribs and drabs TBH, this week was different. We'd got almost to the end of February and realised that we needed to get a bivy done to keep in the Bivy a Month challenge so on Tuesday night after we'd had our tea we headed out, me on the fat bike, Cath on her Stooge. We were only going very local so just packed what kit we needed into small rucksacks.

With the strong easterly we really needed somewhere sheltered but my first option, known locally as "murder wood" following the discovery there in the 1970s of the body of a lady of ill repute was rejected by Cath. Fussy! We continued on snow covered roads with my Van Helga tyres making a right racket on the hard surface. We ended up just shy of the summit of the local hill in some old, shallow, quarry workings. Just enough shelter to be usable. I'd used this spot a couple of years ago so knew it was OK. The only problem was that there was a slight slope to the site and with the wind in the direction it was it meant that if we slid around in the night then we'd slide out from under the tarp. Oh Well.

It was almost a full moon so with the lying snow it was very bright and you certainly didn't need a torch to find kit by. Things were enlivened during the night when one of us knocked one of the poles away and we took a few minutes to get a sense of normality back. I was using my bag and quilt combo whilst Cath was using her better rated quilt. I think it's safe to say that we both found that we were at the limit of what was comfortable for the kit. I recorded -7C whilst Cath recorded -8C, suitably nippy. Whatever, come the morning we weren't about to hang around so we were up and packing before our 0630 alarm went off. It was cold enough that we kept our duvets on as getting back home was nearly all downhill.

It was just as well we got the bivy that night as the following day The Beast from the East (as our press liked to call it) or Thursday as it's known to the Finns, arrived. I chickened out of biking into work, it turned out I'd have been the only person in the office anyway as no-one else got in. I had to dial in to a video call but that could be done from anywhere, most of the day was spent keeping the wood stove going. We were still blocked in on Friday so that was another "snow day" and another conference call. I'd noticed a knocking in my headset and couldn't fix it - the top bearing had collapsed so a quick phone call to Stuart Rider to check he'd got the appropriate bearing ("Is it the 41.2mm or the 42mm version?" - typical bike industry and their standards) so head into town to get it fixed.

It comes to something when you have to wear full on winter mountaineering kit to ride a bike but I was wearing a full set of Paramo salopettes and jacket just to keep the wind at bay. No drama except for two incidents: I came across a council grit spreader stuck in a snow drift (didn't take any shots as the guys weren't happy and they had big shovels!) and whilst negotiating said drift I sprained my already sore back. Bummer! Headset sorted there was no problem getting home.

Come Saturday and it was going to be something local again. We worked out a route that used a mixture of mostly roads to gain height and mostly bridleways to lose it that looped in and around the hills. If things started to get out of hands then we could just use the roads to get back home. So back up the mostly cleared road up to Murder Wood (not dropping any hints dear, honest!) then a short bit of bridleway that I'd never been on before. Cath said it was usually boggy but with the cold and snow it was fine, just the odd drift as you rode across a sloping step and the back wheel would give way or coming to a comedic halt as the drift ahead deepened. 

A quick dog-leg on the next road and then it was more bridleway, this time through heather and a mixture of pushing and rideable. Soon the gradient headed down and we could ride for longer sections. The next bit was tracks and fields to get us down to the old Skipton to Colne railway track. There were some good snow banks here that were firm enough to ride down, great fun.

This bit of the track is used by a "Land Rover Experience" setup which in practice means puddles, not nice in winter so we'd wind on and off the old track bed trying to keep our feet dry. The next bit of track is now access road to a farm and easy going. What we came to next was the result of one person clearing the road from one end "as far as possible" and someone at the other end clearing the road "as far as possible". We were just left with "possible", except it wasn't. A couple of hundred metres of steeply drifted snow. Hmm.

Next the big climb of the route. First bit on road (part of my preferred road ride route home) then some cheeky riding through some woods to the top road. Cath managed to clean the first of the steep ramps of the route through the woods for the first time. 

We'd got into the woods and spinning steadily away when I got the feeling that the bike was handling differently. The back tyre was nearly flat. The thing was, in the snow it gave brilliant grip so I thought I'd leave it and see how I got on. Pretty well as it turned out so once at the road I pumped it back up hoping that the (fifteen month old) sealant would do its job.

Another bit of cheeky riding ensued, well it would have been riding if the track wasn't a metre deep in snow! We'd ridden this bit getting to the bivy the other day but now it was twenty minutes of hike-a-bike. Our bivy site looked quite drifted in, a change in  wind direction had scoured some parts of the hill and deposited everything here. You could see our tracks from Wednesday pressed into the now bare ground. No time to hang around at the summit, the wind was biting, down the same descent as Wednesday but on lightly drifted ground not 30cm deep snow.

The white strips are our tracks from three days earlier.

Lower down the snow was again in a completely different configuration to earlier in the week and we got to the next road to find that my tyre was semi-flat again. Another re-inflation and we decided just to head back on the road, the next bridleway looked drifted in.

So, you are just going to park your bike there then?

For a 20km ride it packed a lot in!

Rovaniemi Kit - what worked and what didn't

Everything is a learning experience (if you want to improve) and I'll look at kit after every trip to see what worked for me, didn't work for me, things I can learn from others, even on rides where I think everything went OK. With that in mind here's a look at what I got right and wrong on last week's Rovaniemi 150 race.

What worked

Clothing

Looking at what I wore it doesn't look like much (Roubaix bib longs, thermal shirt of uncertain vintage, lightweight cycling top (that was on its last legs) and a Haglofs ultralightweight windshirt that I'd bought secondhand off the Bearbones forum) and certainly at the start I was "cool" but I'd done a couple of rides the previous days in the area at low intensity and kept warm so I was confident that in the fine weather we had on the day it would be fine. Keeping in the "Goldilocks zone" is paramount in cold weather, you don't want to be too warm and so get your base layers soaked with sweat. Equally you don't want to be chilled. My hands did get cold (see below) but the rest of me was always comfortable to warm.

I also had several buffs that I used to cover my head and face as and when I needed to. This along with unzipping the top few cm of the windshirt meant that regulating my temperature was relatively easy.

Pacing

With good conditions it was a fast start and while I was fairly quick to the first checkpoint I was well behind the leaders. I've no idea how many were in front of me as we were all a bit quick for the guys at the checkpoint and they photo'd us rather than us signing in and out (plus there were the 66Km racers in the mix as well) but at the third checkpoint (which was the first without the 66 Km competitors) I was at the bottom of the second page. From then on I was continually moving up the leaderboard but never quite made it to the first page until the finish.

My pacing was also good in that I didn't get a single twinge of cramp, in fact I was fine overnight and the next day as well which proves I didn't go "into the red" for any significant period of time.

What didn't work

The pogies

I'd left things a bit late plus I needed something that would fit the Jones Loop bars which many of the standard "go to" solutions explicitly say they don't do. As a result I ordered a pair of Alpkit Bear Paws which are a new line for Alpkit so there was no user feedback anywhere. Suffice to say, they aren't up to the job when temperatures really drop, a lot of the "features" are really faults in low temperatures: no elasticated wrist closure; velcro opening for quick exit; not fully lined (see the photo below). It's now a case of "I know what doesn't work so I'll find something that does what I want". The Alpkit Bear Paws will be fine for the UK and in temperatures down to around -5C.

The paper is aligned with the edge of the fibre pile insulation.

Stupidly, I'd got chemical warming pouches with me but didn't use them.

Packing of my bike Bags

I basically used my summer/autumn/UK winter system which has bivy kit in the front harness, spare clothing and stuff I don't expect to use in the seat pack, stove and evening stuff in the frame bag then food and other trail items in stem cells and the like. This meant that I didn't have spare gloves to hand when I needed them. Eating on the go when riding on potentially untracked snow isn't really feasible - it's better to stop and eat. The food should have gone in the frame bag while spare gloves and buffs should have been in the Lioness bag out front.

Water

I was a bit worried about this beforehand. I happened to find an insulated flask with flip-top plastic drinking spout in town so used that and a normal water bottle inverted in a fleece mitten. It didn't really work.

Not sure how I'll work around this.

Rovaniemi 150 The 2017 edition

Finally my hands are warm(ish), I'm somewhere on the last hill of the route. A street light appears over the brow of the hill, incongruous in the vast forest. Street light means road, road means end of the hard stuff, I cross and drop down to the Ounasjoki which will lead me to the finish.

Suddenly the temperature plummets and in the 200 metres between the road and river my hands become blocks of ice. The next, final, checkpoint is a kilometre along the ice. I can warm up there.

I turn my head and notice something. There, hanging in the sky, is a curtain of green light with translucent veils to either side. The Northern Lights. I stop, hang the race, I take in the moment, the silence and beauty are stunning.

"Meenus sixteen" says the woman as I warm my hands by the fire. "Minus six?" I say, confused as to what she is really saying, "No! No! Meenus sixteen. One, six". It`s stinging and I spend time to fully warm myself.

I don't know what got me thinking about the Rovaniemi 150, perhaps it was watching the blue dots on a tracking page a couple of years ago, maybe the idea of something different. Anyway, I filled the form in, using my Himalayan and winter alpine climbing "career" as my background experience. Alex, the organiser, seemed happy enough with that and with a bank transfer of the entrance fee I was in. It would be my first bike race. Ever. Just one problem.

I didn't have a fat bike.

I then remembered that that I`d seen a rolling chassis for sale on the Bearbones forum. A quick check and it was still for sale. It was being sold by Ian Barrington who`d been one of the blue dots I`d watched eighteen months earlier. A bit more internet shopping and spending of money and I had the parts to complete the bike. See this post about that process.

Alex spends the first few minutes of the briefing listing the reasons that we might be disqualified, then it's on to the safety aspects of the route and what to do in case things go wrong. The discussion and slides of frostbite had a few squirming.

Getting ready for the off

It`s cold down on the Ounasjoki river as we mill around, the weather is clear skies rather than the cloud of the last few days. A couple of recce rides in the days before had revealed that conditions were fast, I'm thinking that fifteen hours might be a reasonable target. Finally the clock has counted down and we are sent on our way. The pace is fast, too fast for me but there are three races and quite a few of those ahead will be on the shorter 66Km route.

Myself and Cath at the start.

It`s almost a carnival atmosphere as we head up river, TV crews track us on snowmobiles, locals clap and cheer. The pace still isn't letting up and the lead riders are already dots in the distance. I get to the first checkpoint, we are so quick that they haven't had time to get themselves set up: "Thirty seven minutes, very quick" Thirty seven minutes for eleven kilometres! Maybe Alex was right and the fastest riders will beat ten hours.

Already spread out heading up the Ounasjoki River.

Still, that's them, the fast riders, not me.

The second checkpoint marks the start of the first "Pain in the Ass" sections, only 700 metres but it's unrideable as it twists in and around trees, saplings and boulders. Eventually it debouches onto the first lake section.

Legs feel good, I'm not overheating or struggling at this pace. Sod it! This is a race, let`s race!

I start to reel in the dots in the distance, the first is one of the 66Km racers, the next is on the 150. The lake goes on for ever and it's beginning to get tiresome when a sharp left signifies the split between the shorter and longer routes and leads up and off the ice onto a track. Another couple of riders are caught, they talk to themselves but don`t reply to my "hello". Their problem.

There are, apparently, 188,000 lakes in Finland, pity the poor sod who had to count them:

"Hi, I`m Laassi, I`m new here, I finished college last week. Do you have a job for me?"

"Yes, we need some lakes checking." (snigger)

Checkpoint three takes forever to appear, I`m beginning to think I've missed it. Sort out water, my left boot is niggling so retie the lacing. Grumpy and Grumpier arrive, still not talking to anyone but themselves. Time to go!

Fat bikes are for snow right? Except that in Britain we don't get lots of deep dry snow, just a centimetre or two of slush. The next kilometre or two demonstrate my lack of technique so to cheer myself up I decide to make some snow angels. Others were less complimentary and called them holes. Grumpy and Grumpier aren't impressed by my artistic merit and disappear down the track.

Eventually the tricky stuff ends and I can make good time again. Four hours gone and I've done a third of the route, could twelve hours be doable? Checkpoint four is in the middle of nowhere and is the last one before the Bridge of Doom. We`ve been told not to ride this as getting wet isn't advised. No worries, but it's dicy even on foot. "Pain in the Ass" number two follows, it's not as bad as the first.

About half the notes I make at the briefing are for this section of twenty kilometres between CP4 & CP6: bridge of Doom, wolves, open areas that could be windy and cold, etc. "You probably won't see the wolves".

Checkpoint five is also in the middle of nowhere - the guys have just turned up on snowmobiles, put up a tarp and got a brazier going. "The leaders went through an hour ago. The guy in second place is doing the 300Km race" Crikey, that`s some pace, he must be on a promise! Grumpy and Grumpier are there, still not talking to anyone else. Time to leave them behind. I won't see them again.

I`m enjoying this, really enjoying it.

I'm over halfway now and at the furthest point of the route from the start/finish. There's three bikes outside the hut at checkpoint six. The riders are inside warming themselves by the fire. I spend time drying my gloves and eating. Time to go. I leave at the same time as another rider and initially struggle to keep up with him but he takes a tumble, he's OK, but he never catches me. 

There follows fifteen kilometres of fast, smooth, logging road that is almost all descent. Descent means no effort helping keep you warm and I'm cold by the time I get to the main road. Two thirds distance done in eight hours, twelve hours is still doable, just. The light is fading, time to put an extra buff on as a face mask. Keep pushing on, lights go on, the road gives way to forestry track.

It`s not fun anymore, but perversely I'm still enjoying myself, my hands are still cold and the next checkpoint is beyond some indeterminate number of corners along this forestry track. There`s a light behind me, slowly gaining. It`s a snowmobile and it digs up all the good surface so the going becomes harder. I smell the woodsmoke from the checkpoint fire before I see it. There`s another light gaining on me, a rider, one of the three from the hut thirty kilometres earlier, but he doesn't quite catch me before I stop.

I`m cold and sit by the fire for a good while. I get my phone out to text Cath, it`s so cold that the touchscreen initially fails to respond. There's a text: she was third lady in her race and won a cup! 35Km to go, a couple of hours, I don't think I'll make twelve hours though. Readjust to thirteen. 

"If you're going through Hell, keep going."

Tired now, the other rider leaves before me, I don't care, just finish. More fire road with soft surface and I'm having to walk some of the slight uphills. I can see his flashing red rear light about a kilometre ahead. The track twists and turns dropping down to the last lake. Just keep going.

In the middle of the lake I stop, the crunch of my tyres on the ice dies away, Orion is hanging in the sky in front of me, Cassiopeia suspended above. I scan the night sky, nothing but stars, no magic. Press on.

The last hill, it`s a drag, that gentle angle that you think should be easier than it turns out to be. I can see the lights of planes landing at Rovaniemi airport, the track swinging left and right so sometimes they are in front of me, sometimes to the side. Over the brow of the hill I see a street light.

At the last checkpoint there are two riders: the one who`d caught and left me at the previous stop and the 300Km race leader. He's mad as a box of frogs and aiming to complete that route in one go without sleep. I ring Cath to tell her I'll be 45mins to an hour. Once I`ve warmed my hands I'm away again, the light of my competitor acting as a target. It`s now 2110, I have fifty minutes to get under my target of thirteen hours.

Within a kilometre I've caught him, we ride together for a while: "The first third is a race, the second third is touring, the last is survival." he says, I know what he means. My hands have gone cold again, push on, keep generating heat. The elastic snaps (he said afterwards that his back was hurting and couldn't apply power) and he falls further and further behind, the lights of the city beckon me on.

I check my GPS: 2153, seven minutes for the last Km and a bit, could be close! Off the river now, up the bank. No traffic on the road so I'm not waiting for a green light. In the hotel lobby I lean my bike against the wall and head to the event HQ and give my number. A shake of hands, some photos. I'm done.

Too tired to ask anything, it's the next day when Cath checks Facebook that I find that I finished in tenth place in 12:59, the winner took 10:25 so 25% longer which is good for me. I'm really, really pleased with that. She said that at the next to last stop I was still only an hour or so behind the leaders so my time for the last bit reflected how truly tired I was.

"Hi, I've finished counting. Can I go now?"

"Sure Laassi. Do you want to take your clock and retirement card with you?"

The route is great, varied, even the "Pain in the Ass" sections are enjoyable in their own way, if it was all lake and fire road it would be fairly boring. I really enjoyed it, even the bits where I struggled with the cold (my fault really, damp gloves along with pogies that weren`t capable of dealing with moderately low temperatures). I definitely made mistakes: apart from the gloves I didn't get food and water properly sorted, my understanding of snow and appropriate tyre pressures also needs work. On the plus side: my pacing was fine, I could see myself working my way up the signing in/out boards at each checkpoint and my choice of clothing was just right, having seven pairs of gloves and four pairs of trousers to choose from helps!

Getting to Lapland for the Rovaniemi 150 might seem a lot of logistical effort for one race but it is much, much more than the 150Km distance and 1300 metres of ascent: alone, at night, in the vast forests of the north you realise just how much we take for granted and how comfortable and secure our lives really are.

    "If you are eaten by wolves, you are disqualified!"

    

Tough but fair.

Fat bikes at the BearBones winter event

"So, where are the motors then?"

"You're looking at them. We're the motors!"

The farmer was obviously a bit confused in the encroaching gloom. He had mistaken our fat bikes for moto-cross bikes. The ensuing conversation was slightly bizarre with him talking about the course that Dan and Rachel Atherton had built nearby: "ramps that they jump off are as big as my house!"

This was my second and Cath's first BearBones Winter event. This is a bit like a make it up as you go along Trailquest or orienteering on bikes. You get sent a list of grid references - including the obligatory location in the Irish Sea! No prizes for visiting all the given locations, choose where you want to go and make up your own route as you see fit. The locations generally follow a theme, this year it was "Church or Chapel" - eight churches and eight chapels, choose one or the other.

Laying out the maps of the area on the living room floor we plotted the locations (the errant Irish Sea church had been relocated to somewhere less isolated), 20p pieces for the churches, pennies for the chapels. It was apparent that most of the chapels were in areas we had visited either on the BB200 or when riding into and out of last summer's Bearstock shindig. Churches it was then.

With going to Rovaniemi in a month's time it was time to get some fat biking training done. Having done last year's event and found that the grassier bridleways are a little on the interesting side during winter the plan was to stick to roads, tracks and firmer ground wherever possible. A bit of map work and we'd a 100Km route for the two days with a rather hefty 2600 metres of ascent thrown into the mix. The route did allow for some short cuts which are always handy at this time of year.

Our plan to stop at Oswestry for the Friday night then head to Llanbrynmair early on Saturday morning proved to be a decent option given the tales of struggling to get to the "official" pre-event pub in the snow. On the other hand the restaurant we ate at did have their "heaters" blowing cold air at us until I pointed it out to the staff!

Saturday morning is a chance to have a chat with some familiar faces whilst being fed tea and toast courtesy of Dee and Stuart. Perhaps more importantly given that I've forgotten my full weight waterproof is Mark Evans turning up on time with an insulated windshirt that I was buying off him. A check and it fits, and doesn't get taken off! I think I'm going to need it. Time to go.

Then after 300m realise that I've left my rear light in the car - doh!

A ford on a hidden lane.

Back for that then we are really on our way. The first bit of the route didn't look too bad, especially when compared to riding over Bwlch y Groes later on but in reality it was going across the grain of the land so was: up; down; up; down, with hardly any flat whatsoever. Thus at one moment you were sweating away then chilling off as you dropped back down the hill.

Straightforward after some very slippy rock.

Yep! It's another long climb.

Now while I'd tried to avoid grassy bridleways there was one that was unavoidable as it traversed a hillside before plunging down to some woods. While fat bikes have great traction most surfaces, a couple of centimetres of wet, muddy grass overlying subsoil isn't one of them, some of the resultant slides were quite comedic. Fortunately the steeper parts of the descent were a different, rougher species of grass and you could get grip but as soon as the angle eased things had been seeded with pasture varieties and we were back to sliding around. After getting lost in the woods - well you'd take the big obvious track rather than the faint line wouldn't you? The proper line was really good if short lived, eventually dropping through a rock cutting so presumably an access track to an old quarry. 

By now time was getting on and with the cold and damp we needed some refreshment. Andy and Adam's cafe in Corris was the eating hole and most excellent it was too. Cath had the broth and I had the chowder. 

Nearly sided it all up!

As we were leaving a couple of other riders arrived from the direction we were heading - decision time for them: late lunch or early supper? There wasn't going to be much daylight left by the time we set off and riding along winding main roads in the dark didn't appeal so a short cut was called for. This was also on a main road but much more open so drivers would be able to see us in good time.

Checking out the tiger bike at the cafe in Corris

First of all there was the little matter of a col to cross. This was on a national cycle route and was probably an old lane at one point but is now tarmac. It was a long slog though on a fat bike, interrupted only by our conversation with the farmer. Down to the Cross Foxes pub then along the A470 to Dinas Mawddwy before heading up valley and a search for a bivy site.

We were back on the planned route now, the way ahead lay along a steep bridleway. A building on the map that we hoped might be a farm building turned out to be a house - no go there then. A little further on I notice a relatively flat spot amongst all the steepness and trees. It would have to do, certainly it was a lot better than my bivy last year - we were well sheltered from wind and rain. A quick clearing of twigs and other debris and the tarp was. Our evening meal was rice and tuna, the pan is just big enough for one serving each so while one of us ate the other was getting their sleeping kit ready.

A view from a room

One disadvantage of bivying under tree cover is that things are much darker than you are used to. Consequently it was gone eight when we decided to move. We hadn't finished off the climb from the night before so there was about 100 metres of steep track to start with.

This got us to a junction of ways but it was downhill for us and a nice bit of singletrack contouring above the river turned into a quad bike track then a farm track all the way down the valley. A bit muddy but all rideable. Eventually we passed through a farmyard with associated "friendly" dogs and some rather excitable bullocks to a blast down to the main road. Back on with the rear lights (don't want any excuses about "Sorry mate I didn't see you") for the couple of Km or so to our turn off.

On the bridleway by Afon Clwyedog

This was the home straight, all forestry tracks and roads from now on. First a long, long drag up into and through the forestry. We headed north for a couple of Km before doing a 180deg turn and heading south for a couple of Km by which time we'd nearly circumnavigated a complete ridge! I'm not a fan of riding in forests - you don't get any sense of progression or sense of place. Eventually though we began to descend and came to the forest gate: locked! Lifting loaded fat bikes over five bar gates isn't easy! The track continued in a generally downhill direction with just the occasional 100m of pedalling required for flat sections or short rises.

Just before the next section of forestry there's a track heading down into the cwm to our right, it will get us out of the wind and drizzle. It's steep and fast and eventually drops us into a farmyard with a rather deep looking ford in the middle of it. Luckily there's a bridge to the side that we can ride across. We are now on tarmac and it's all downhill, really. There's virtually no pedalling involved until we get to the main road in Llanbrynmair. This does mean that we get chilled through the lack of effort on our part.

Lots of tea and grub courtesy of Dee and Stuart again, get into some dry clothes, chat with others until it's time to load the bikes into the car and head home.

We didn't manage our planned 100Km route but ended up doing 85Km and 1700 metres of ascent. A decent amount of training done.