A Farewell To Winter - The Agassiz Winter Duathlon 

First Published on 3*30*09

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"Oh yeah, this outta work," I shouted to my partner, Joy,  as I wheeled my cross bike out my driveway.  A wind-whipped noon sky sheared my words away, and Joy just smiled and shook her head  as if saying, "Just be careful and have fun."   She has long since accustomed herself to my need for quixotic workouts within Sacred Peak wilderness.

My intent?

It seemed a good one to me: bicycle up to the now closed alpine ski area carrying my nordic skis, poles, and boots on my back.  Then,  ski up the vacated ski runs to timberline at 11,500'.  Strip off the climbing skins, and telemark back down to my bicycle and ride back home.

The salient feature on my planned route would have to be the 4,150' two-sport climb in just about 9 miles.

I told you it was a good idea.

Now, over the course of several decades, many of my similar "good" ideas have quickly disintegrated into what fellow Flagstaff Mountain athlete Andrew Frost would call, 'yet another battle between stubborness and stupidity.'  However, yesterday, the Mountain Gods were very kind and I came away with a world-class winter duathlon workout that is just classic.  If you look closely at the little bulge in my ski pole strap in the photo above, that bulge kinda points at my top-out point right at timberline on Agassiz Peak.  After Joy snapped this picture, I was off.   Less than two hours, I was at that timberline spot, gazing down on all of my Beloved Southwest from the roof of Northern Arizona.  Here's the beta on the workout:

BIKE UP SECTION: 8 miles from 7,350' to 9,800' in 1 hour, 3 minutes.

In the first photo,  I have not yet put on my bike helmet.  After I did, realization of my first trial arose.  Five minutes into my workout, my neck muscles began cramping... whenever I lifted my head to look forward -  a wise thing to do while cycling -  the skis jutting forth from my backpack forced my head back down.   "C' la vie,"  I told myself.   Pain accommodation is an unavoidable (yet trainable) component in the way of the outdoor athlete.

As I pedaled past Veit Springs, just past mile marker 4 on the Ski Road,  I had entered a wind-free zone and the warm rays of Grandfather Sun seemed a balm to the effort of going upward.   I enjoyed glancing at my shadow as I breathed my way up the cinder-strewn road,  my ski's projecting a kokopelli-like figurine dancing beside me.  You know you're looking pretty unique when tourists slow beside you in their cars to take pictures of you during your workout.  I reckon to some people, seeing a Fitness Warrior cranking up a mountain on his bicycle while carrying skis, boots, and poles on his back is peculiar.  Huh, go figure.

SKI UP SECTION: 2 miles from 9,800' to 11,500' in just under 47 minutes.

In a little over an hour, I reached my Ski Up Transition point at the Agassiz Ski Lift, elevation 9,800' (see above photo).  Having only one water bottle for the entire workout, I took a paltry swish to help convince the "PowerBar Gel Blasts®" to slide down my throat. These precious little nutritional gems (which I contributed toward making) are actually spiritual jewels for the body/mind...they always work for me. 

For this Ski Up section,  I had pre-applied my climbing skins on my cross country skate skis, so my transition was only a few minutes.  On my bike ride up, I was passed by some local snowboarders who had driven up to this location to hike up the hill. They were now  about a kilometer above me, hiking in unison beneath a warm sun on this chilly afternoon.

Upward, I began to ski using a hybrid nordic technique of a half-jog/half-classic stride. To overcome steeper headwalls, like the one pictured above,  I employed a herringbone technique matched by strong arm poling, for to backslip is a supreme waste of energy and time.  As a yogi, I pretty much automatically began turning within myself as I synched up my Mantra (recitation of a holy word) with my breath rate.  As a result, nearly immediately I was awash in the splendor of what lies dearest to my incarnation; that Rocky Mountain High!!

Whenever I sweat consciously within this beautiful land, my sincere wish is that everyone feel a similar feeling of being Rocky Mountain High...and fit enough to go Higher Still!

Within seven minutes I had bridged up to the snowboarders.  Six minutes later and they had dropped out of view as the floor of the world began unfurling at my quickened pace up the Sacred Peak.  It is almost certain that this kind of mystical fitness will arise in any sincere warrior of sweat  as inner consciousness realizes our innate enlightenment potential...a potential free from excessive religiosity, ritual, tradition, or superstition of any sort.

SKI DOWN SECTION: -2 miles from 11,500' to 9,800' in 13 minutes and 42 seconds.

With the help of favorable Wind Gods,  I nearly flew up the ski runs reaching the summit (above photo) in near record time.  The slightly melted crust was ideal for clackety-clacking my way up the slopes without slipping hardly an inch.  Tearing off my climbing skins and doing a quick Pranayam(yogic breathing ritual)  in the Hawk-high air, i smiled.  An entire ski resort at my feet with only Hawk himself to accompany my next feat; the ski down.

Mistakenly, I thought that the Ski Area management would have groomed the ski runs after they closed the area.  Wrong.   Now it was time to pay for my assumption.  Over my lifetime, I've skied treacherous terrain using all sorts of equipment.  On this afternoon, this descent was gnarly.  I stood atop 2"-wide, edgeless cross country racing skis, intended only for groomed track skiing at cross-country ski centers.  Between myself and my bicycle lay nearly 2,000' of  ungroomed, expert ski runs covered by a mish-mash of moguls and multi-layered snow with the  texture of semi-frozen hog slop.  My ego could  hardly believe it took me nearly a quarter of an hour to descend this route, which, when groomed,  I can descend in this same set up in six minutes.

At one point, I came careening down the multi-crusted slop toward a semi-telemark skidding stop above the snowboarders I had seen earlier.   Some fun was to be had;

"Hey," i yelled in my best impersonation of a Ski Patrol Authoritative Voice at the boys whom were building a jump for their snowboards, "Don't you boys know that this Ski Area is CLOSED?!"

They both returned my glare with that sinking feeling to which I have been subjected too so often...

"Uh, uh..." they stammered.

"Just kidding," i quickly smiled and chatted with them for a moment before continuing my awkward descent back to my bike now shining like a medallion in the lowering rays of Grandfather Sun.

***

BIKE DOWN SECTION: 8 miles from 9,800 to 7,350' in 24 minutes.

Attempting to be smart, I took extra time in re-aligning my skis and poles to my pack for the fast descent.  I would need to keep my head up for the downhill coast down the switch-backed road.  A cold headwind had been slapping me since the start of the Ski Down.  That same headwind was growing only colder and more intense on the higher-speed bike descent.  My re-alignment and re-strapping intelligence was only barely successful as I was still unable to hold my head up for any length of time.  Instead of fighting this biomechanical snafu, I chose to surrender to it. I released my head to one side of the skis and invoked Quasimotto.  Head tilted,  my back hunched over my handlebars, shivering, I ripped down the serpentine Ski Road.  With delight, I giggled to the onward rush of pondersosa scented air. Every now and then, for the sheer fun of it, I yelled aloud with the Wind Gods in my face, fingers now frozen,

"SHE BROUGHT ME WAAAATER...." in my best Lon Chaney impersonation...

"SHE BROUGHT ME WAAAATER..."