Posts - Page 58 of 286 - Christof Teuscher

The next morning I hopped on a flight from Nome to Anchorage, and later that day back to Portland on a redeye. I felt very melancholic when we flew over the Yukon and the Susnita rivers. When I was already at the gate in Anchorage, the entire airport was suddenly evacuated because of an undisclosed threat. Alas, I was back in the real world. Cold and wind were replaced by other unpleasantries.

I suspect that my pictures may have given the impression that this was a 1,000mi “fun” walk to Nome. It was not. While there were indeed many scenic moments and conditions were better than in most years, the day-to-day business on the trail is everything but fun. The pictures don’t show me trying to frantically warm up my fingers for the next 20min after I snapped a photo of the sunset. There are no pictures of what it feels like to pull a heavy pulk through soft snow on showshoes for hundreds of miles, or to drag it for days over dirt and grass. There are no pictures of going to the “bathroom” at -30F in terrible winds, trying to get all layers back in place again without getting frostbite on some exposed extremity. There are no pictures of the painful chafing in places you don’t even know you had. There are no pictures of the many deeply dark and difficult moments, when the last thing you’d think about is taking pictures. There are no pictures when you cried because what was ahead of you felt utterly impossible. The blunt reality is that—for most of the time—a journey like that is unrelenting misery with zero fun.

And now you may wonder why so many people decide to sign up for this race, suffer through other difficult endurance challenges, climb mountains, and seek inherently unpleasant activities? I have no answer, but Paul Bloom’s new book “The Sweet Spot: The Pleasures of Suffering and the Search for Meaning,” has some solid insights. Here is perhaps the main one: “[C]hosen suffering—in the right way at the right time in the right doses—adds value to life.”

I will be back. Hell yes!

See you next time!

So good…thanks!

One last view of the hills.

The Yukon river.

The Susnita river on the descent into Anchorage.

Thanks ECE department for the celebration!

#iti2022 #iditarodtrailinvitational #ultrarunning #nome #alaska

I woke up to the sound of snowmachines. A group of three on the way from Nome to White Mountain stopped because their sleds were overheating. That happens typically when the trail is very hard. I noticed that the cabin wasn’t shaking anymore and they told me that the wind was manageable now. Great! I ate another meal and got ready for the remaining 43mi to Nome.

When I left the cabin past 9pm, there was almost no wind. That didn’t last. For the next 12mi or so, the trail follows the dune/driftwood line on the shore. There is zero protection from wind. About a mile in, it was so strong again that it made walking difficult. Pretty soon I was forced to put on more layers. That’s always a huge hassle in the wind. Anything you let go of will be gone forever. And if that is a shoe because you were not careful when you put on your down pants, well, you’d be trouble. The wind grew so strong that I considered going back to the cabin. I would have, had it grown even stronger. On the positive side, the northern lights were as magical as I had ever seen them. There was even a hint of red in the spectacle, which is quite rare.

I reached the Safety Roadhouse just before 8am. They board the place up as soon as the last musher passes, so no hot dog and beer were to be had. Seeing the 20mi road sign to Nome spread some encouragement. I figured I could probably make that. I started to smell the barn, yet, I also felt increasingly and strangely sad that this epic adventure would soon be over.

The remaining 20mi were pretty uneventful. Suddenly I was there, dragging my pulk through town to the finish line as the 2nd foot athlete to make it to Nome this year. It had taken me 24 days and 45 minutes to get there (~42mi/day).

Great food, beer, and company ensued. This journey would not have been possible without the help, hospitality, and incredible kindness of many amazing people. Thank you!

Will I be back? Hell no.