Arrowhead 135

After completing the Badwater 135 ultra-marathon, I wanted to attempt the Arrowhead 135 winter ultra-marathon. Both races are very similar to one another, yet very different as well.

The Arrowhead 135 was founded by Pierre Ostor, a Badwater 135 veteran. Arrowhead is a one hundred and thirty five mile long, a point to point race that is held in the coldest part of the country during the coldest time of the year on the US-Canadian border in International Falls Minnesota, which follows the Arrowhead trail deep into the Minnesota woods crossing several frozen swamps and lakes, eventually finishing at a remote casino in the town of Tower. You have three methods of propulsion as a racer to enter the race, bike, ski, or foot. I chose the foot division.

The weather. I knew the obvious, this race is notoriously known for being a brutally cold race with an average finish rate of only 30%, in the week leading up to the race I was finding myself studying the weather forecast more and more. Multiple weather sources were reporting the impact of a polar vortex weather system that was coming down from the arctic circle and stalling out directly over the area of the race, which meant the racers would be exposed to even colder temperatures than this race is typical of seeing.

Temperatures so cold that car manufactures come to I-Falls in the winter to test their prototype vehicles.

At the time, this didn’t seem like it was too much of a concern to me. After all, I was watching the weather forecast in the comfort of a seventy-five-degree warm room back in North Carolina.

The 2019 Arrowhead 135 weather forecast.

The reality of the cold hit me the first time when I was in the Minneapolis airport boarding my connecting flight to International Falls, which there was only a total of seven of us on the flight including the pilots, and the others whom were ice fisherman. As the plane landed and I walked off the passenger boarding bridge, the cold air coming in through those tiny gaps in between those folding walls was a cold I had never felt before. The current temperature was -35°, prior to this the coldest environment I had been was in a snowstorm on Mt. Washington with my wife Jennifer. It was -22°. Any exposed skin would burn in just minutes, and I wasn’t even officially outside of the airport yet!



My wife Jen and I on the summit of Mt. Washington during a January snowstorm in 2016.

With this being a point to point race and traveling solo, I needed to get my rental vehicle to the finish line at the casino in Tower, so it would be there waiting for me when I hopefully made it to the finish. I was able to get hooked up with a great guy named Frank Edwards who has been a volunteer of this event for several years. Frank had been in the area near the finish line collecting firewood for the race, and he had offered to give me a ride back to my hotel in International Falls. Frank is a local who lives in I-Falls and has a great deal of experience in winter camping, I really enjoyed Frank sharing some of his winter experience and knowledge with me during the drive back to my hotel.

As I woke up Sunday morning, I was greeted to an actual temperature of -47°. The race was starting in less than twenty-four hours. I still had a lot of prep work to do including my mandatory gear check. One of the requirements for this race is you must carry a variety of self-survival/rescue equipment such as a -20° or below sleeping bag, a stove and metal pot to melt snow for drinking water, enough food to consume for the entire duration of the race (three days), all which needed to be inspected by race officials prior to receiving your race bib. The required list seems like it is a million pages long, although looking back, every item on the list is an absolute necessity and could mean the difference between having fingers and toes or even life or death.

Screenshot of my phone the morning prior to the race.

 

Monday morning, race day! When I awoke Monday morning the temperature had warmed up to -18°, which would be the warmest temperature for the remainder of the race. At exactly 7:00am the traditional fireworks went off followed by the famous words of “release the hounds”.

The race started, and I was on my way to Tower Minnesota, 135 miles away, through the woods. My goal for this race was initially to finish under 48 hours, although with the lower than average temperatures I’d have to contend with, my goal changed to keep all my fingers and toes, and just try to survive and finish.

As the race started, I realized how cold it was by when I went to wipe the snot off my nose with the backside of my mitten and it turned to solid ice within seconds from leaving my face. Around mile 10 or so, roughly three hours into the race, I knew I still wasn’t fully recovered from completing the Tuscobia 160-mile winter ultra-race just three weeks prior to starting this race. My heart rate was much higher than it should have been, I was glad I recognized this early in the race, I began to slow my pace down and just worked on putting one foot in front of the other.

Arrowhead doesn’t have any supported aid stations every 5-10 miles like typical ultra-marathons, only checkpoints, a total of three, spread out anywhere between 30-40 miles apart from each other. Which means it can be up to a full day before you reach a checkpoint. Hence the reason why you’re required to carry a stove to be prepared to melt snow for drinking water, along with other pieces of survival equipment.

Around hour 27 or so into the race I had been moving nonstop since the start and was approaching checkpoint # 2 also known as Mel George’s cabins. Before you reach the cabin, you cross Elephant Lake. Crossing the lake was as cold as I’ve ever been during my entire life. Reports of the actual temperature before the wind-chill were in the -55°F to -60° range. I cannot even describe the level of cold this was. The biggest factor were the wind gusts while being fully exposed crossing the lake. At this point I was dealing with my eyelash freezing shut due to the moisture on the upper eyelash freezing to the lower one. The only way to unfreeze it was to put the bare palm of my hand on my eye to warm it up so the eyelid would open, although in order to do this I had to remove my mitten and expose my hand which meant the risk of frostbite. It took a little time, but finally I was able to get my eye opened back up.

Upon crossing the lake and reaching Mel George’s, the second checkpoint, I was greeted by Ken Kruger, the race director. He asked me how I was doing and if I would still like to continue. I replied “I’m doing as good to be expected, and I am still planning on continuing.” Ken's famous quote that he tells everyone at the race briefing prior to the race is "Cowards won't show, and the weak will die". I was at the halfway point in the race. I felt like I was making decent time, although I didn’t see many people behind me. I knew there were people in front of me, so I assumed that many of the competitors had issues and had dropped.

 

As I got into Mel George’s, I was greeted by a couple fellow racers Kirk and Shawna. They both had dropped and were waiting for a ride back to their vehicles. It was nice seeing them and getting some solid encouragement from each of them. I’ve heard stories about leaving Mel George’s can be a bit difficult to navigate, so Kirk, who was a veteran of this race, help get me pointed in the proper direction and back on the trail.

It was now almost afternoon of the second day into the race, and I was headed to the Surly teepee, the third and final checkpoint of the race. When evening came was when things got real. I started to get cold, sure I had been cold during this entire time, now my body was a different kind of cold than I had felt before. I’ve been in enough of these types of situations before to where I’ve learned to listen to my body, my core temperature was dropping, I started to do jumping jacks to build some body heat and get the blood flowing, I then reached in my bag for my puffy jacket (also known as when $hit hits the fan jacket), something you use only when you’re extremely cold. I put my puffy jacket on, now I had the warmest gear on me that I brought. I kept moving, although I could feel my core temperature dropping and I was getting tired. It’s times in the race like this which are the hardest, you are at your absolute lowest point, your body is cold to a point to where it is indescribable, so tired although you must stay awake because you know that in these frigid temperatures you have to keep moving or freeze to death. This is the point when the race starts, it’s times like this when you find out who you are as a person and what you’re made of.   

Mile 72, halfway point in the race. Temperature: A balmy -55°. Photo Credit: Ken Krueger

It was just before dusk and a race volunteer approached me on a snowmobile. He said that temps were to get down to -50° during the night, and he was making his final rounds to retrieve racers that needed to drop because they weren’t going to be back out to check on racers until morning (likely around 14 hours). I’ll be honest, I was strongly considering dropping. I had every piece of warm clothing on me and I was still shivering. I was around mile 85 at this point, still over 50 long, cold miles to the finish. I told the volunteer on the snowmobile that I’m considering dropping although not 100%. He said that he had to make a run five miles up the trail to pick up a racer with frostbite and that he would come back to check on me afterwards, before he went in for the night. Shortly after, I came up to a road crossing where I ran into Chris Scotch. Chris and his wife Helen are the race directors of the Tuscobia Winter Ultra. Chris was in his vehicle, taking a racer who had dropped to another support vehicle. I told Chris that I was thinking of dropping. Chris had been a great mentor to me regarding winter racing. Chris told me that almost the entire field had dropped already and helped me get my mind back on track and off I went into the night.

 As the hours went by into the second night, my body was in a complete death march. Literally sleep walking, I had never been so tired in my life. I had been awake for consecutive nights several times before, but I was never as tired as I was at this point. I think a lot had to do with the fact that my body was working so hard to stay warm, therefore it felt like the equivalent to staying up 3-4 nights straight. As I marched on, I caught up to two other racers. We were all physically and mentally wrecked. In a way it felt good seeing others just as destroyed as you were. As we went on, we all agreed to bivy together for one hour. By now it was around 4am and biving in these temperatures is practically a suicide mission, although this was something I had to do. I was incoherent, having multiple hallucinations, to the point to where I was having conversations with people who weren’t even there. Really bad things can happen when you’re in this state of mind and don’t act properly. In 2018 during a race in Canada, an Italian guy started to hallucinate bad enough to the point to where he undressed himself during the night and ran into the woods with no clothes on. Three hours later race officials found him, transported him to the closest hospital to later find out he had both of his legs and arm amputated from severe frostbite.  

We found a three-sided shelter just off the trail to bivy under. This had to be the worst place to build a shelter, even though it wasn’t much of one. This thing was literally built directly on top of a rock bed. By the time we noticed this we already had our sleeping bags out and were practically frozen at this point, so it just made sense to lay down.

I set my alarm to go off in one hour, I probably got 5-10 minutes of sleep within that hour. It was still worth it; just to be able to lay down is close your eyes makes the biggest difference sometimes. The sun would be coming up in a couple hours and daylight always gives you a little more energy when you’re in these situations. We were on our way to the final checkpoint around mile 110 which was nothing but a large teepee in the middle of nowhere. I arrived at this checkpoint just before dawn. At this point I was re-energized and ready to get back on the trail, I still had eight or so hours to go until the finish. I left the teepee as quick as possible and headed towards the town of Tower.

It was now around 10:00am and I was doing the math in my head to predict my finish time, which I estimated to be around 2:00pm or so. I had about four more hours. I started to hallucinate again; the lack of sleep was getting the best of me. I would see things in a distance that looked real such as a cabin or a home, only to find out that when I got closer it was nothing but an evergreen tree with snow on it. I recall listening to a Joe Rogan podcast about sleep and the effects it has on the brain and Dr. Matthew Walker, the sleep expert talk about the meanings behind hallucinations. He said that your brain absolutely needs rest after a certain amount of extended time being awake, and if you choose not to give it rest it will do it on its own whether you're awake or not, hence the reason for hallucinations.

The fact that I was now so close to the finish helped me overcome my tiredness and propelled me to keep moving. I finally came up to the “Arrowhead Finish 1 Mile Away” sign and ran the last mile.

Heading towards the finish. Photo Credit: Scott Rokis

After fifty-six hours and sixteen minutes I had crossed the finish line. The temperature was -21°. Looking back, this was one of the hardest things I’ve done to date. To be out in temperatures ranging from -18° to -55° for three straight days takes an enormous toll on both the body and mind that words cannot describe. I ended up finishing 11^th out of only 13 finishers. Which coming to this race from North Carolina I’ll take it as a win.  The race director informed me afterwards that I received the Shackleton Endurance Award, and I’d be able to pick a charity of my choice to donate one-hundred dollars to, which was pretty cool. The experience gained from races like this is invaluable. Learning the do's and don'ts of gear and equipment in regards to what will work and what won't in these extreme temperatures, along with strengthening the mind and figuring out how much the human body can take.  

Finally crossing the finish line.

 

Holding the coveted Arrowhead 135 finishers award, which I gave to my son James.