Photo by Matthew South
It seems our dry land racing season will be going out with a bang -- and not the good kind of "bang", either. This past weekend was the dreaded Fair Hill Challenge in Elkton, MD. And when I say "dreaded" I only mean it had me more than a little anxious. I had heard plenty of horror stories, so I was prepared to get my butt kicked.
And get kicked it did. The ass-kicking began at around 4:30 AM, Saturday morning. I crawled out of bed and finished loading the truck for our drive to Maryland. We left an hour before the sun came up. Brutal. Thankfully, AJ drove down, and we made it to the race site in less than two hours.
We were signed up for the two-dog bikejor class and scheduled to race at 12:01 PM. There were three other teams in our group; two were in the same "sportsman" class and the third in the "pro" class. We were third to the chute and the dogs were as amped as ever. Dexter has especially shown a great deal of excitement at the beginning of races, which is cool to see coming from a rescue mutt in his first real year of actual mushing.
Our first run started out a bit shaky. The starting line launches you uphill, on gravel, over a bridge. Since I don't know how to ride a bike (I'm only half-kidding), I scared some spectators (and AJ) as I wobbled through the loose terrain. Somehow, we made it to level ground and the dogs galloped through the picturesque Maryland landscape.
Photo by Matthew South
Things got a little tricky once we hit the first big obstacle -- a stream. The team ahead of us was held up as the driver had to coax her dogs across the water. I wasn't sure if Dexter could handle passing, so I waited for some distance to open up between us. When I let the dogs go again, I was pretty stunned -- the ripped through the stream like it was nothing.
After the stream, we were pretty much neck-and-neck with the two other sportsman teams (the pro team had gone out first and rocketed to the finish). My guys handled the terrain with ease -- they pulled me up the first hill without a problem. However, with two teams trotting in front of us, I held them back.
This is where things got ugly. One of the other teams had a tangle and asked me to pass. I tried to push Dexter forward, but after we passed, he pulled around to meet one of her dogs. A little bit of snarling ensued, along with some tangled lines, but luckily no bloodshed. I apologized profusely, but in the heat of the race I doubt it was noticed. I pulled my team aside and let the other teams go ahead. I didn't want to mess up anyone's run with Dexter's inexperience.
I stayed relatively close to the other two teams for the next mile or so. I held my guys back to avoid passing, since it was clear Dexter wouldn't be cooperating. Then we hit the big, albeit gradual, incline. The teams ahead of us slowed down a bit, so I teetered trying to keep a steady pace without passing. As the first team approached the top of the hill and began their quick ride down, I decided to let my guys speed up. With their eyes on the team ahead, they successfully passed the other team that had been alongside us. To help motivate, I changed gears and pedaled. Or tried to.
My (brand new) bike's chain jumped clean off the gears and I wobbled awkwardly over the top of the muddy hill. Unable to steady myself, I toppled over. Luckily, I landed in a soft spot and the dogs didn't continue down the hill without me. I got back on my bike to ride again, but wiped out immediately. In the initial spill, the front tire bent sideways and was no longer perpendicular to the handlebars. Thankfully, trail help wasn't far behind. Fellow musher and friend, Romil, straightened out my front tire. It was then that we noticed my front brake was also shot. "Do you want to keep going?" Romil asked. I did.
So I continued on and squeezed my single brake tight as we careened down a steeper, root-and-rock-filled decline. We made our way through the soggy tunnel and onto the gravel road, which would take us to the finish. But not before another tangle. Since I could no longer pedal, I kicked off the ground and tried to keep the dogs going. Dexter was losing steam. Romil came to my rescue once again and ran ahead of us to get the dogs running. We finally crossed the finish, in just under 25 minutes. Definitely not our best run.
Photo by Patty Kulpa
My disastrous run on day one had me more than a little apprehensive about day two. My bike was fixed up (as much as it could be). I would only have a rear brake and I couldn't change gears. I planned to take the trail slow and stay away from the other teams, to avoid tangles or passing issues. At this point, I had all but thrown in the towel. I wasn't there to compete anymore -- I just wanted to run my dogs and enjoy it.
Day two's race began on a better note. We tore up the starting line without any wobbling and the dogs flew through the trail with ease. I was a little thrown off by the driver who started almost immediately after me. She had missed her start, and as per the rules, had to run last. I was under the impression that the 1-minute starts in between drivers still applied, but she took off only a few seconds after I did. I wasn't concerned with beating her or anything -- I just would've liked a heads-up when she came storming past.
I kept my dogs slow, as planned. I stayed behind a team for the majority of the race. I could tell my guys wanted to run like hell, but I held them back. They pulled me through the stream, up the inclines, and down the declines. I pedaled sparingly, just enough to keep steady.
We almost ran intro trouble at the very end of the race. I held them back as the team in front of us went down the steeper hill, over roots and rocks, through some frozen mud, and into the tunnel. When we made our descent, it was difficult to keep them going slow, given the terrain. I noticed, almost a second too late, that the team in front of us had stopped short at the tunnel entrance. At the speed we were going, we had no choice but to pass. I held my breath and hoped that Dexter would ignore the other dogs. And wouldn't you know it, he totally did.
Finally, with no teams directly in front of us, I let them cut loose. They tore through the gravel road and made it to the finish line. We clocked in at around 19 minutes for day two -- a whole 5 minutes faster than the day before. Once we work on Dexter's passing, I'm confident we will become real contenders in this race. But until then, I'm satisfied with my non-sled-dog-mutt and my 9-month-old. Hell, for only their third time running on trails with other teams, I'd say they did pretty damn well.
Photo by Patty Kulpa
We'll see you next year, Fair Hill. Hopefully with three dogs, a rig, and a little more experience!
