JayP's Fat Pursuit 2017

Jay P's Fat Pursuit in Island Park, Idaho. I completed this 200 mile race in 53 hours in the snowy mountains of Idaho on 1/7/17. It's not about the bike! This year the Fat Pursuit will go down as a real eye opener for me; a truly enlightening experience. 

Friday 5pm, the field lined up at the start line. The overnight temperatures were predicted to be around -15F (-26/c). Yes, cold, but something I knew I could deal with. On a clear night, we headed out. I wanted to stop and take photos but didn't want to ride alone at the back of the pack - safety in numbers, I guess. I watched my temp gauge on my GPS start dropping but no drama yet. I rode alone into the night. I watched as the temperatures kept dropping -5, -10, -15. Right there I'm thinking "the forecast's not too bad”. I made a rookie mistake, though, and left my hydration nozzle sticking out a little, which proceeded to freeze solid - not a good start. I pushed it back under all my layers to try to bring it back. I needed the calories in that bladder, or it was going to be a long night.

I was mentally prepared for -15, but the temperature didn't stop dropping: -20, -25, -30, -35. For the past few weeks I’d been joking "-20 -30 -40, once it gets that cold how different can each temperature feel?". Coldest temp reported by any rider was -40F; throw wind-chill in, and this is no joke. I apologize for my stupidity on that one; I now know it feels very different.

I was moving slower and now there was fear of the unknown, being a long way from safety and knowing every decision I make will have consequences. Do I bivvy out and hide from the cold or keep going? I passed a couple of bivvy's but thought it might be out of line to go and ask them "how's it going?", "what temp sleeping bag do you have?", "are you warm?", etc. I had a -20 sleeping bag, but what does that mean when you're at -35? I didn't know and the thought of breaking it out, diving in, then realizing I was still cold was too much, so I just kept moving. I would ride a little, get off, jog on the spot, do a few jumping jacks then go again for what seemed hours on end (because it was). I basically put on every piece of clothing I had: 3 layers of Smartwool, a SW vest, a Puffy and then a windproof shell on top of that, and it still felt like I was standing in a freezer. On one major downhill section, I probably stopped 5 times over 10 minutes. I went into uncontrollable shivering a couple of times which definitely had me a little scared. My body was working super hard to keep me warm, but I could feel it sapping my energy. As I headed towards the first aid station, the sun was coming up, and I could see some big cat prints on the trail in front of me - these were way too big to be a regular house cat, so that got my attention.

It took me nearly 18 hours to get those first 80 miles (last year’s first 80 in the 200k took me 12 hours). When I arrived at the aid station the crew got to me quickly, brought me some hot soup and pointed me to the warming tent. I subsequently heard the field had been decimated by the frigid temps and eight had dropped the first night. I felt lucky to have got through the night. I tried to warm up a little before having to pull out my cooker and do the water boil test. Many thanks to the crew there for the love!

As I headed out of aid station one, I knew I would run into Kellie as soon as the 200k and 200m crossed paths. When we saw each other, we decided to ride over to West Yellowstone together when our paths met up again.

We met at the intersection a little later to head up to the West Yellowstone check-point, 26 miles away. It was now snowing and getting dark. My cold night was starting to catch up with me; 26 miles doesn't sound far until you're trying to ride in fresh snow. Fatigue starts to set in with about 15 miles to go. My energy levels were at an all-time low, so we decided a couple hours of sleep might do me good. Pulling out the bivvy's and stomping down an area to sleep in a snowstorm is not ideal, but we did it and survived all the better for it.

We arrived in West Yellowstone at approximately 4:30am, after many hours of pushing through deep snow and trying to ride. We discovered more riders had dropped from here, making us some of the last riders coming through and going on. I don't know how many people asked Kellie ‘are you going on?’, but the answer was always the same; yes. Then most would say "really?" and she would say yes again. I was very proud of her! She never batted an eyelid. 

We had to be out of the check-point by the 6am cut-off, but some hot food and 45 minutes of shut-eye did us wonders. The next push was to aid station 3: The Man Cave. We had 12 hours to get to our next cut-off, which in theory should be a piece of cake. I was now at 35 hours and Kellie at 23, but we were feeling confident and strong. 

We left and rode for a good hour until the bottom of the two-top mountain, where major snowmobile traffic had made the trails un-rideable for us, so we went about our business of slogging through. The speed was the issue; you can't go uphill in fresh snow fast, so our 12-hour window was disappearing really quick - and then it disappeared altogether. We had our hearts set on finishing but with the realization that, at this speed, we could be out for another 12 hours, we had to concede this might not happen. There were two others still trying to get through to finish at this stage, but the storm was getting a little much. JP showed up on a snowmobile at 11pm to let us know we had gone off course, but he got us back on track to reach The Man Cave where our adventure would come to an end. 

Nearly 17 hours after we left West Yellowstone and still 25 miles to the finish, the writing was on the wall. We were at peace with not getting our finishing distances though, because we had left it all out there. We rode, we crashed, we pushed and pulled, and we laughed trying. As I've always said, sometimes it's about the journey, not the destination. Thanks to the Fat Pursuit crew for being there for us and to Jay Petervary and Tracey Petervary. I feel honoured to be able to ride in the pursuit. Sometimes in this day and age the word ‘epic’ is overused, but not today. Epic.