Hello Bill & Stefan-

 

First, I'd like to thank both of you guys for your help in answering my question regarding Lupine Lights and to Bill for getting me setup so fast!!

 

I used the Wilma for the 350 Iditarod Invitational race.  This was an especially brutal year for the race as it combined lots of new snow with very cold temperatures.  I've estimated that I pushed my bike around 140 of the 350 miles and spent consecutive nights pushing through -35F and -40F temperatures.  During the 5 days, 3 hours that it took me to finish the race (3rd place) I probably slept a total of 6 hours. So I was running the light all night, every night.  One night I had to lay down and sleep for an hour and I was so tired I forgot to turn off my light or my mp3 player.   Just slept with both of them still blazing.

 

I ran the Wilma with the max power set to Econo mode and three-step dimming.  I think this gave me power levels of just under 1W, around 5W, and 8W.  I ran in either 1W or 5W the entire time.  The light worked fabulously.  I did have one brief period where the battery voltage dropped too low after I had taken the battery out of my base layer pocket and put it in my second layer pocket.  Once the battery was in the 2nd layer pocket (still had two layers of insulation over it) it got too cold.  (I did this knowing it may get too cold, but I had to thaw food in that pocket).  This was just a matter of me getting my equipment dialed in better (I'll have a dedicated battery pocket sewn into my vapor barrier base layer for next winter).

 

Anyhow, its fabulous light!!!  This thing is no toy.  Its a tool and a damn good one!!   I can't wait to do some dirt racing with it.  I'll be writing a full race-report that I would be happy to send to you guys if you're interested.  In the meantime, there is an on-line article in the Anchorage Daily News that includes a picture of the Wilma after a long night of use.

Invitational riders find McGrath and their own limits

IDITAROD TRAIL: It's a 350-mile trek from Knik.

By RON WILMOT
Anchorage Daily News

Published: March 12, 2006
Last Modified: March 12, 2006 at 12:42 AM

In the waning daylight hours of Feb. 26, three figures trudged through fresh, thigh-deep snow as they climbed Rainy Pass in the Alaska Range. Each pushed a gear-laden mountain bike.

Peter Basinger, 25 and from Anchorage, was far ahead, just in sight, breaking trail. Rocky Reifenstuhl, 55 and from Fairbanks, and Jeff Oatley, 36 and Reifenstuhl's neighbor, followed, marveling at Basinger's endurance. Reifenstuhl and Oatley figured Basinger would burn himself out, allowing them to catch up.

Basinger didn't burn out. But before this race was over, the three men would push themselves to a level of exhaustion few people experience.

The human-powered Iditarod Trail Invitational does this, reducing competitors to mad, vomiting, hallucinating lumps of soul-weary, blistered flesh.

It is a race from Knik to either McGrath, 350 miles, or to Nome, 1,100 miles. Competitors ski, mountain bike or plod on foot. They carry all their gear, receive no outside assistance and find their own way.

There are no prizes, other than the deep satisfaction of having finished. Heavy snow, high winds, stinging cold and rough trail are hazards. Hypothermia, frostbite, and avalanches are dangers.

Dogs do the dirty work in the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog race. In this race, the humans are in harness. Mushers know that if they push their dogs too hard, the dogs will not run. Dogs are smart. Humans sometimes aren't.

DAY 1, SATURDAY, FEB. 25

At 2 p.m. in heavy snowfall, 39 competitors depart from Knik Lake. Twenty-three ride mountain bikes, 14 are on foot and two use skis.

In winter endurance races, the bike has almost always proven faster than the ski. Many bikers use fat-tire mountain bikes, which provide float for easier riding on snow. The trail is usually packed down by snowmobiles, so riding is generally faster than skiing.

But even during the best years, bikers encounter sections of trail in which they have to get off and push. Usually, they make up that time on the ridable sections.

In last year's race, Mike Curiak of Colorado set the bike record to McGrath -- 3 days, 6 hours. With trails packed hard by cold, wind and snowmachines, the ride was "like a sidewalk" to McGrath, he said.

But fresh snow or bad trail conditions render the bike almost useless, a heavy item to lug along.

Despite the snow, Basinger, Oatley and Reifenstuhl were able to ride across the Susitna River and up the Yentna River to the first checkpoint at Luce's Lodge, 50 miles into the race, without mishap.

Several other competitors were not so fortunate. In the dark, at temperatures approaching 20 below, many competitors missed the turn onto the Yentna River. One is Steve Reifenstuhl of Sitka, Rocky's brother.

Steve, 55, set the record to McGrath last year for a foot racer, an incredible 4 days, 15 hours. Worry creeps in that he has missed the turn.

In Reifenstuhl's meticulous pre-race planning, he figured he would hit Luce's at 2 a.m. That hour comes and goes, and then Reifenstuhl sees a sign pointing to Willow.

He is far up the Susitna. Devastated, his chance at the record gone, he turns around. The delay costs him 7 ½ hours. He arrives at Luce's and scratches.

Eleven competitors end up scratching. According to race organizer Dan McDonough, the combination of missing the trail and the sudden cold following wet snow forced most of the scratches. Steve Reifenstuhl sees two cases of blistering frostbite as he checks in at Luce's.

DAY 2, SUNDAY, FEB. 25

Oatley and Reifenstuhl arrive at Skwentna at 1:07 a.m., 90 miles into the race. Basinger comes in at 2:50 a.m. All leave within minutes of each other around 4 a.m.

The course now climbs into the foothills of the Alaska Range. All check in at Winterlake Lodge on Finger Lake at mid-afternoon and leave within a few hours of each other.

The course steepens as it climbs into the Alaska Range. The trail is unbroken snow. There is little riding. Basinger passes his competitors and arrives on Puntilla Lake at 11:35 p.m. Oatley and Reifenstuhl arrive an hour later.

The race becomes a push-fest among three tortoises.

"It was about as intense as a 2 ½ mph race can be," Oatley says. "Nobody was willing to give anyone an inch."

DAY 3, MONDAY, FEB. 26

Basinger leaves Puntilla at 2:35 a.m.; Oatley, Reifenstuhl follow 70 minutes later

They began the trudge up Rainy Pass. There is no trail. They post-hole up the pass, sometimes sinking to their waists. They come across a wooden cross, a memorial for Richard Strick Jr. of McGrath, who was killed in an avalanche on Feb. 14 while driving a snowmachine to break trail for the Iditarod. They see deep pits that were dug in the avalanche debris where searchers looked for Strick's body.

Finally over the pass and into Rohn, they sleep for a few fitful hours in a small cabin. At this point, no one is willing to cede any advantage. They rest, trying to stay aware of what the others will do. If one wakes to leave, they all wake to leave.

DAY 4-DAY 6, THURSDAY, MARCH 1

As they descend the north side of the Alaska Range and enter the Farewell Burn, the trail does not improve. It is normally a section with little snow and where bikers make up time; this year, it's covered with wind-blown, sandy snow. Riding is impossible.

"The north side of the Alaska Range is in a precipitation shadow," Reifenstuhl says. "Normally there is next to no snow there. It is perfect for bikes, sucks for skiers, and it's OK for walkers.

"Now, it was under six inches of snow."

Reifenstuhl looks back onto the peaks of the Alaska Range and sees wind blasting snow off the tops. He also sees stars in the sky, which leads him to believe that the snow now at their feet is wind-deposited. Behind them, in Rainy Pass, other competitors face the blasting winds, forcing more to scratch.

They push on. On a clear, cold night, about 25 miles from the next checkpoint at Nikolai, they stop to build a huge fire and bury themselves in sleeping bags for some rest.

Oatley's bike computer has a digital thermometer that he says is accurate to about 15 below. At around 20 below, it starts to flash gibberish, and at 30 below, it goes blank.

It is blank.

"We built this massive fire to stay warm and took turns getting wood for it," Basinger says. "We'd doze off for a few minutes, then the back side of your body would freeze, and you'd have to turn around to thaw out."

They push on for Nikolai. Reifenstuhl arrives at 12:30 p.m. Wednesday. Basinger is 10 minutes behind, and Oatley arrives at 1:20 p.m. Their bodies are shot. Oatley is fading and knows it. Basinger stills feels OK but badly needs rest.

Reifenstuhl does some deep breathing exercises and leaves an hour and a half later. Oatley and Basinger opt to sleep and leave together at 4:10 p.m.

Basinger and Oatley are surprised Reifenstuhl decided to go on with so little rest.

The stretch from Nikolai to McGrath is 50 miles and normally fast, the trail packed hard by snowmachines. Now it is covered in fresh snow.

As competitors near the finish of the 350-mile race in McGrath, they come to a fork in the trail. To the left the trail goes to the Kuskokwim River, the right is an overland route. In last year's race, the river route was packed and fast. This year, neither trail is packed.

Reifenstuhl first trudges up one direction to see how the trail is, then turns around to check out the other. After two hours, he finally decides on the overland route. He arrives on a big lake and cannot find where the trail picks up again. It is cold, dark, and he is beyond exhausted.

Basinger arrives at the fork and sees Reifenstuhl's tracks and backtracks in the snow. He catches up with Reifenstuhl on the lake; he sees Reifenstuhl's headlamp bobbing in the distance.

"He was sick (vomiting), lost, exhausted, cold and completely out of his mind," Basinger said in an e-mail. "We agreed to stick together for his sake."

Using Basinger's GPS and Reifenstuhl's big headlamp and trail knowledge, they found their way to a road -- a road! -- which they knew was about 10 miles long and led to McGrath. They rode as if drunk -- swerving, crashing into each other, crashing into the snow bank, so exhausted that sometimes they'd just stop, get off the bike, and sit down on the trail and fall asleep.

"It took us two hours to go 10 miles," Basinger says. "It was absolutely pathetic."

Basinger and Reifenstuhl arrive together at 7 a.m. -- a time of 4 days, 17 hours. Oatley comes in that afternoon in a time of 5 days, 3 hours. Oatley estimated they'd pushed their bikes for 140 miles.

"Peter and I pounded on each other," Reifenstuhl said after he and Basinger gorged on omelets and bacon in McGrath. "We brought out the best and the worst in each other. It is hard to define your outer limits."

Basinger leaves the next day for Nome. The trail is no better. Unwilling to push a bike all the way to Nome, he arrives in Takotna and scratches.