Dylan Morton takes a sip from his hydration vest and surveys the Expo before him. It’s a scorcher of a day in Emporia, Kansas; the wide, cloudless skies giving no respite to a growing group of cyclists as they move toward the Unbound Gravel XL start line. Dylan is in good spirits: he poses for photos, greets friends as they pass by, and even shimmies into dance aerobics while his fully-loaded Otso Fenrir Stainless models for its own glamor shots. The All Things Gravel Expo is conveniently located right next to the start chute, which is quickly filling with fidgety riders, fans waving beer cans, and fast-melting Untapped Maple creemees. Unbound security volunteers are desperately waving spectators toward either side of the timing barrier, but to no avail—cameras and phones jut into open spaces, trying to capture friends and family as they prepare for one of the largest, unsupported, ultra-endurance bicycling challenges they’ll face this year.

It’s chaos personified. It’s, as Morton says, “a pregnant moment.” He’s right: the air is palpable, almost electric. “There’s an experience that’s about to happen,” Morton continues, and you can sense that each rider is interpreting this knowledge as best they know how. Briefly he ducks under the shade of the shared Wolf Tooth Components/Otso tents and soaks in the last portions of cool air he’ll find before grabbing his Fenrir Stainless and saluting the fanfare around him. He walks toward the back of the start line where he’ll review on-bike nutrition, determine he’s carrying too much, and give a big bag of M&M’s to a less fortunate friend. The start gun goes off in a flash, and Morton starts rolling.

Morton is no stranger to endurance miles. In fact, he prefers them. His palmarès include a win at the 2021 Utah Mixed Epic (an annual 1000-mile event through the heart of Utah’s rugged landscape), a successful ITT of the 2021 1000-mile Arkansas High Country route (a craggy, unsupported route with over 75,000+ feet of elevation gain), as well as numerous bikepacking trips across Alaska, Arkansas, Colorado, and other remote sections of America’s backcountry. “I’m curious,” Morton remarks, “I think one thing that has been present in my life is, like, curiosity. What do I want to know? I say oh, I want to see this place, or I want to experience it. Long rides give you the ability to be like oh yeah, I went through there. I went through the whole thing.”

While some cyclists toe the lines of these epic endurance events with one major goal (to win) Morton’s approach to knocking out the miles comes from a more subtle need to find peace and balance: not only within himself, but in how he relates to the world around him. In 2022 he made the decision to ride his Fenrir Stainless 240 miles from Bentonville, Arkansas to Emporia, Kansas ahead of the 350 mile XL race—not because he needed the extra shakeout, but because it helped Morton solidify the natural bonds between his bike and his own mental/emotional state. “There’s something about riding to a bike race on the [same] bike that you are also going to race,” Morton explains, “It makes you feel like, no, I’m home. I’m comfortable. I have been riding this thing. I know exactly how it speaks to me. I can speak to it. If there’s anything even weird, fine. We’re in sync, and there is something in that that makes me feel so much more calm.”

Morton isn’t here to win. He’s here to become a part of the course. “[Winning] is not my goal,” he states. “That’s not in my DNA.” Yet, that doesn’t mean these races aren’t meaningful for Morton. Having the ability to stay “consistent and purposeful and motivated and moving” is evidence enough of his mental and physical fitness; however, Morton’s ethos toes the line between pushing power and appreciating his body’s strength in the moment. “I feel like if you’re going to a race, you should feel like you’ve given it every bit of effort, that you should not leave anything in reserve. But you shouldn’t be at the end [of the race] thinking, cool, turn around, get the bike ready to go. As long as I got across the line, that’s appropriate. And I always want to leave that for me.”

The Unbound XL capped a 590 mile journey for Morton’s Otso Fenrir Stainless, which, as Morton states, “disappeared” as he reached a groove on the southward course. “Everything was selected for [that bike],” he explains, “Like, conscious choice. There was nothing that was just given to me … or, like, I wasn’t aware of. Like, the tires—fully aware of them and selected and chosen and put on there. And there is something really fun about that. But I think the reason why I do those things is so that when I’m riding a bike, that’s the last thing I have to think about.” The course itself was “very pedaly”: “Didn’t have to get off my bike at all, didn’t have to turn on my head lamp," Morton says. "I could actually use my Dynamo, which requires my front wheel to be spinning at a certain speed to create light. Didn’t have to worry about light the whole time because that was on all night.”

The Otso Fenrir Stainless is a ride-anywhere bike—a bike meant for speedy singletrack, craggy climbs, long bikepacking journeys, and afternoon coffee rides. For Morton at Unbound, it became a steadfast workhorse so reliable it “melted away” as his pedals pushed forward through the Flint Hills, from El Dorado to Eureka, Hamilton to Madison, and finally back to Emporia. Consistent and capable, the Fenrir shepherded Morton to his flock, taking “every bit of input” and saying “yes” to whatever Morton asked of it. “I just put it out in front of me,” he explains, “and it just rode over everything, and there was nothing I had to worry about.”

The famed rains that soaked through the 200- and 100-milers met Morton with grace, having already ridden through several storms on his trek into Emporia from Bentonville. For endurance bikepackers, rain is “part of the process”—Morton, however, takes the sentiment a bit further. “[It’s] this kind of relief,” he says. “Now we’re riding in a little bit of mud and a little bit of cold. Thank you, [mud and cold]. Like, this changes the script. This cools it off. This is different.” Being present and in the moment on course affords Morton the time to respect and honor the lands he rides on—to make them a part of “his bones.” As a full time mechanic for The Meteor in Bentonville, Morton uses experiences like Unbound XL to reintroduce himself to the world: to become a part of the larger spaces in which he rides. “Sometimes… you’re just like, you actually are a part of the landscape,” he muses, “You’ve lived here your whole life. Tell me who you are. Who is the person who wants to be here?”

Morton completed his Unbound XL journey at 4:20PM on Saturday, June 5th, having ridden a total of 350 miles in 25h 23m 08s on top of the 240 miles already logged between Bentonville and Emporia. As he is greeted at the finish line with beer, hugs, and a wet towel from Chamois Butt’r, Morton suppresses his thousand-yard-stare, poses with his Fenrir Stainless, and shares ride details with friends. “I rode the bike, it did its thing, and I didn’t have to think about it, do anything, put a chain back on, worry about it,” he says, wiping his face. “I love the aspect that I can go and put my Fenrir through hell and it doesn’t care.” At this point, it’s safe to say that Morton and his Fenrir Stainless have become one. Just like Morton, the bike is “happy to take everything [given to it] and just keep moving forward.” And forward they will go.

Otso Cycles makes versatile, performance-first bikes that are inspired by the spirit of the forest. You can find us on the terrain less traveled, in the winding woods, shredding a forgotten trail, and also on social media. Check out our Unbound gallery below to see Otso riders ready to take Emporia by storm.

Photo Credits:

Kurt Stafki

Clare Paniccia

Brooke Billings

Andy Chasteen

Sounds2Sounds is the latest event on the increasingly well appointed New Zealand bikepacking calendar. Conceived by the Kennett Brothers (New Zealand's mountain bike race and brevet pioneers and prolific route and guidebook editors) it connects Totaranui/Queen Charlotte Sound at the top of Te Waipounamu/South Island with Piopiotahi/Milford Sound in Fiordland. The event links many of the New Zealand Cycle Trail network routes into a 1460km brevet, with a few alternates to make it suitable for various bike set-ups and plenty of elevation to keep the legs and heart working hard.

I signed up for the event as soon as I caught wind of it, despite it starting only a month after Tour Te Waipounamu—the hardest race on the NZ bikepacking calendar. I planned to ride this event at a more relaxed pace, and it would be the perfect opportunity to break in my new Otso Fenrir—a beautiful stainless steel bikepacking-specific bike with a carbon Enve fork, which was fresh out of the box just a few weeks before the ride rolled out. I got it set up with a set of Revelate Designs kit and managed to squeeze in one two hour loaded ride: to an urban park to practise pitching my Big Agnes Scout tent, and make sure everything was in working order.

After disembarking from the pre-dawn water taxi to Meretoto/Ship Cove on March 1st, 84 keen riders spaced themselves out for a quick debrief and karakia—a Māori prayer for favourable conditions on our ride. There was no mass start; rather riders were left to roll off as they felt ready to ensure social distancing of at least several bike lengths on the Queen Charlotte Track. I teamed up with friends Rachel and Debbie for the first day, and with similar motivations to ensure a good time was had, we stuck together all the way to Milford, nine days later.

The Queen Charlotte Track is a fun 70km undulating singletrack through lush coastal forest, with plenty of opportunities to look out across the turquoise water of the sound. The Fenrir flowed around the switchbacks, and the seat dropper ensured the steep, sometimes rocky descents, were not too hair-raising. Although it was our shortest day, at 90km, the 2600m of elevation gain made it a challenging first day.

Day two offered a stark change of scenery as we slowly crawled our way up the wide open Awatere Valley into a stiff headwind. Our first apple tasting came from a trail angel on the Taylors Pass road standing by with buckets of juicy apples and pears from her garden. The vineyards in the lower valley soon gave way to steepening tussock-covered hills as we ascended into the guts of the backcountry on the Molesworth Muster Route. Shortly after arriving at the station gate in the early evening we heard we’d narrowly missed the actual muster, as thousands of cattle had been herded through the campsite just a few hours before our arrival—Molesworth Station is both a recreation reserve and New Zealand's largest operating farm. With access restricted after 7pm we settled in to camp with a posse of other riders for the night.

The morning frost was a good motivator to get going, pedalling hard to warm up before the sun made its way high enough to reach us. Soon after, the climb to Wards Pass (1130m / 3707ft) had us stripping back the layers, and by the time we reached the cafe and hot pools at Hanmer Springs it was too warm to even think about having a dip. Instead we fuelled up for a team time trial with Andrew and Hazel to quickly dispatch the busy road to the Culverden shop to resupply. Some zig-zagging on quieter backroads, via a couple of disappointing apple trees (too green), had us arriving at The Hogget pub in Hawarden for another 7pm-ish finish, establishing this as our preferred time to stop for the day. Bruce sorted out the key for the Rugby Club showers and camping at the domain while we feasted on surprisingly gourmet meal options for a very small rural town.

Consensus the next morning on the road was that none of us had slept well, but the legs slowly woke up while we witnessed another beautiful sunrise. We rolled up and then down through north Canterbury, to Amberley for a well-needed second breakfast and perhaps the best coffee of the ride. Shortly afterwards we branched off the Hurunui Heartland route, following the alternate via Oxford, to avoid Christchurch city. The day was highlighted by more wild apple tasting (red but sour) and a stop for a famous Sheffield pie, as well as a couple of locals coming out to cheer us on. I’d outlined an ambitious schedule of nine plus days of riding, but today's 220km plan to Mt. Somers went out the window as we reached the Rakaia Gorge campsite around 7pm, took a look up at the climb ahead, and called the day done.

The climb out of the gorge was nowhere near as daunting in the dark the next morning, and was well timed for another magic red dawn as we started out across the Canterbury plains—hugging the foothills of Kä Tiritiri o te Moana/Southern Alps. We made time at Mt Somers for an obligatory pie and coffee, followed by several more successful apple stops on the ride to a relaxed cafe and resupply break in Geraldine. From here things got surprisingly hilly, as we began the traverse inland via climbs over Mount Gay (small but sweet apples) and Rockwood Roads to a creekside camp before Mackenzie Pass. It was a peaceful Friday evening, apart from the locals out hunting wallabies after dark who insisted on speeding back and forth through the nearby fjord. I guess there’s not much else to do for fun out there.

In anticipation of the view across the expansive grassland of the Mackenzie Basin we were pedalling early, passing two dead wallabies and one live one that had escaped the hunters’ guns. Early light on the Southern Alps while we were on the descent from Mackenzie Pass was ample reward for the sometimes steep climb. I was keen on the optional mountain bikers’ direct route to Twizel, but my legs voted against me, and my stomach confirmed second breakfast was the better choice as we rolled up to the Greedy Cow cafe in Tekapo and ordered a table-full of flat whites, croissants and cinnamon rolls in the sun. Tekapo marked the start of the Alps 2 Ocean route via lakes Tekapo, Pukaki and Ohau. A sharp change in weather was forecast and by the time we left the glassy Lake Pukaki, took a decent stop for lunch in Twizel, and reached the aptly named Lake Ohau—Place of Wind—waves were whipping across the lake. An early stop was debated and when it turned out accommodation at Ohau Lodge included a three-course dinner and breakfast, and they had a guest laundry, a rest-day was declared with a 5:30pm finish.

By now we were over 1000km in and we finally got some nasty South Island weather thrown at us to see what we were really made of. After warming up with our only hot pie for the day at Omarama, and Rachel and Debbie had bought some warmer socks and gloves, we decided to push on and find out. It was a heads down grunt up the steep rough road to Omarama Saddle (1260m / 4134ft), battling into a rather unpleasant southerly front. With our field of view narrowly focussed by the rain it didn’t seem to take too long before the brakes were on for the even rougher descent to Top Hut. It was more sheltered from the storm in the upper Manuherikia Valley, and realising that the river wasn’t up as much as feared, we ploughed on. It was a super slippery ride, with approximately 20 river crossings to wash the mud off us and the bikes. The road briefly turned to the worst kind of mud—incredibly sticky peanut butter—stopping us in our tracks until a suitable tool could be found to scrape enough off to move on. The day ended with a friendly welcome in Oturehua— many thanks to the locals at the Railway Hotel, Gilchrist's Store (owned by Debbie’s mother’s cousin!) and Crows Nest Accommodation for looking after riders as they passed through at various times during the event. They even have an apple tree on the main street!

It was a cruisy 60km in the slowly lifting fog on the Central Otago Rail Trail, arriving in Alexandra for elevenses of a hot bacon croissant, cream donut and latte in the sun. After a quick stop to help ourselves to the most delicious apples of the ride—left on the Anniversary River Track for S2S riders—and then an unwelcome bee sting, it was onto the Lake Dunstan Trail and a blur of e-bikes as we rode against the flow of traffic. Word of the latest Great Ride has spread fast, with nearly everyone in New Zealand keen to get on it before tourists are let back into the country. The spectacularly cantilevered bridges over the lake and the aroma of wild thyme do make this a unique ride.

With over 110km already under our wheels we slowly inched our way up the 1000m climb to the route's high point at Duffers Saddle (1280m / 4200ft), regrouping with Bill and Brett for a group photo to celebrate. Sadly it was not all downhill to the finish, we still had another 50km and 500m up the Nevis Valley to get done. My legs were not impressed about the overtime in the saddle, so I had to channel Jens Voight and give them a talking to—“Shut up legs, do as I tell you”—before happily arriving at the rustic Garston Ski Hut at 9:30PM. It was our longest day by a couple of hours, but we felt like the lazy ones as we got into our cozy sleeping bags while a steady stream of Godzone adventure race teams trickled by, enveloped in their little bubbles of light and fatigue.

What goes up must go down, and when it’s a 650m descent to hit The Coffee Bomb caravan in Garston it takes no time at all. The caffeine kept us rolling along nicely on the Round the Mountains Trail, though the chore of opening gates through the Southland farms got a little tedious. Our self appointed domestique Debbie kindly went ahead and made the job a little easier for those of us lagging behind. Never one to shirk her responsibilities, our chief apple taster Rachel checked a few more trees off on the way to Mossburn for a venison pie and, you guessed it, coffee top-up for the remaining leg to Te Anau. With just 125km to go we spent the evening socialising with other riders: the three B’s Bill, Brett and Bruce who we’d played tag with for the whole ride, Andrew and Hazel who’d finished earlier that day, and a couple of others just watching the dots this time around.

It had been 13 years since my last visit to Fiordland National Park, part of Te Wähipounamu-South West New Zealand UNESCO World Heritage Area, and I’d forgotten how dramatic the stunning sheer-sided alpine scenery was. Needless to say the last day was our slowest, as we rode along craning our necks to try and take it all in, and making countless photo stops. The superb views made up for the lack of apples and cafes — though we did come across a surprise coffee cart at Mirror Lakes, and Rachel found an apple in her bag she’d stashed days earlier. There was still 1650m of climbing to do but we enjoyed every slow minute of it, especially without the pre-Covid tourist traffic levels, and we had the road virtually to ourselves. The final prize was the 900m descent from the entrance of Homer Tunnel down to Piopiotahi/Milford Sound—an exhilarating finish to an already memorable ride. There was no fanfare but we did arrive to a one-man welcoming committee waiting to take our photo in front of the iconic view of Mitre Peak and buy us a beer — cheers Bill!

Thanks to everyone for the dot-watching and support, especially to the trail angels and the locals that went the extra mile during the event — it was very much appreciated. The photos might make it look like a holiday but my legs and backside beg to differ.

Ride Stats

Total Time: 9d 9h 9m
Distance: 1480km / 920m
Elevation Gain: 16,764m / 55,000ft
 
Thanks to the following for their support:
Otso Cycles and Wolf Tooth Components
Revelate Designs
Big Agnes
Sungod Sunglasses
Biomaxa
Passchier Handlebars
 
Photos: Hana Black, Rachel Berry, Bill Brierley

The Tuscobia Winter Ultra is a 160 or 80 mile race along the Tuscobia and Wild River Trails that takes place in December or January. The 80 mile course is one way, this year from Northern Pines Resort on Butternut Lake to Rice Lake, Wisconsin. The 160 mile course starts in Rice Lake; at Butternut Lake racers turn around and go back the way they came. In 2019 I completed the 80 mile race on bike, it was warm (for winter), rainy and icy. This year I was wishing for cold and my wish was granted, and then some.

The alarm went off at 4:00AM, but I was already awake. The buzzing was just confirmation to get up and start the final steps of getting to the start line of the Tuscobia 160. I tried all my tricks to get to sleep, but the anxiety of staying out over night in forecasted -20 degrees Fahrenheit weather and the unknowns of the trail had my mind racing. Time to get out of bed, make breakfast, layer up and roll out the door of the hotel.

Except, I decided to make some last minute clothing changes because the temperature was currently -4F and I thought it would be 5 above. Not that 9 degrees make that big of a difference, but in my head below zero meant warmer layers were needed. This was no simple task, as it meant unpacking the saddlebag, swapping out clothes, and packing it up again. I checked the clock and I was still doing great for time.

Then I decided I should put face tape on and be done with it. Face tape is used to prevent exposed skin from getting frostbite. I hacked some tape roughly into face shapes with my Leatherman knife and put them on. This took longer than anticipated because I used a small knife and not scissors to cut; you gotta use the correct tool for the job. I checked the clock and now I was running late.

I asked my husband, Andy, to bring my drop bag to the start for me and rolled out into the dark. Twenty-five minutes to get to the start should be enough to go 2 ½ miles, but not in a comfortable amount of time. This ride gave me my first taste of the trail conditions and the north wind that blew straight down the first 5 miles of the course. It wasn’t a good taste.

Thankfully, I arrived before the race began with enough time to check in, snag my drop bag from Andy, add it to the truck with the others, give Andy a kiss, the dogs a pet, and hop back on my bike. Unfortunately, my hurrying meant that I had sweated a whole bunch. Winter ultra veterans will tell you sweating means trouble. We sweat when we’re warm to cool our bodies down. When it’s cold outside, you don’t need to be any colder. By now the temperature was about -13 degrees Fahrenheit and I was worried I was in trouble.

Race Director Helen Scotch gave us the count down to go and we were off! I used the first straight 5 miles to calm my breathing and tried not to overheat. Top layers were unzipped and goggles came off because they fogged up due to my sweaty face. At the turn onto the Tuscobia Trail, I stopped with some other racers and took off a layer of socks because my feet were so warm.

Then I spent the remaining 30 miles to the first checkpoint in my own head with thoughts like, why do I do this sort of thing, it’s actually not very fun, and I’m going super slow, maybe I should just drop. But how can I drop out with my dignity? I couldn’t come up with a good answer because even though the going was slow, I wasn’t cold and I was still going. My liner gloves were wet, my baselayer through to my outer fleece were damp, my buff formed an icicle that attached to my outer layers and eventually I couldn’t unzip them to get to my water. Before that happened though, I dug out my phone to look at why my eyelashes kept sticking together.

The eyelash ice was becoming a problem and I worried about getting frostbite on my corneas. So I pulled out a ruff that’s attachable with magnets and put it on the hood of my fleece. Once zipped the ruff created a wonderful little microclimate around my face that melted the frost. With this set up I was still too warm, but felt confident enough that I could make it to the first Ojibwa checkpoint to dry out and change baselayers.

Once I got to the checkpoint the wonderful volunteers checked me in, offered me food and drink and helped dry out my gear. Seeing friendly faces (hi Rebecca!) and getting such support buoyed my spirits. Here I was told that I was in 2nd place for the women’s 160 race. This was surprising and it lit a little spark in me to keep going. A volunteer in a fox costume did a cartwheel in the snow for me as I turned back onto the trail with a smile on my face.

After the town of Winter I started seeing more 80 mile racers coming in, and cheering them on was one of my favorite parts of the race. Greeting everyone, looking to see if I could spot friends in the distance kept my mind focused on positive things. I had planned to squeak my narwhal horn in encouragement for folks passing by, but it was so cold the plastic had frozen stiff and Gnarly couldn’t squeak.

One aspect I appreciate about winter training is that I get to see a lot of sunrises without getting up too early. After the race start, when I was grumpy and in my head, there were some really beautiful and delicate undulatus clouds marking the first sunrise of the New Year. That evening we were treated to a stellar sunset as well. Riding your bike is a great way to do some cloud spotting, and always remember to look behind you.

By Loretta my goal times were out the window and I was just riding to carry on. I had to admit to myself that I would be riding into the turnaround at Butternut Lake in the dark. Once the dark hit I ended up leap frogging with a couple other riders. We’d ride together for a bit, split apart, and then come back together. I was set at riding my own pace because I didn’t want to burn out and leave nothing left to get me back to Rice Lake.

The new route to the turnaround at Northern Pines Resort on Butternut Lake was like snowmobile single track. It was pretty fun in parts and pretty steep in parts, which was tough on the legs after riding for so long. Once on the lake, construction barrels traced the route to the cabin and reports of open water had me keep close to them while riding in the dark.

Once again the wonderful volunteers at the turnaround checkpoint were attentive and incredibly helpful. They dried out my clothes and brought me hot soup and tea. I finally got to chat some more with other racers and it was nice to get to know people better who do such silly things as ride their bikes through the night in the dead of winter. As I dried out I worked through what to do next. Do I bivy there and finish the last half of the race refreshed? Do I go ahead and just keep pushing? Eventually I decided to head back to Winter, possibly to bivy by their newly remodeled train depot which has very nice heated bathrooms. Using a nice warm toilet instead of a frozen-ish port-a-potty was very enticing. Plus, bivvying at the turnaround would make it too easy to drop. Though with the number of folks dropping, getting a ride back to Rice Lake before morning was unlikely. At this point I knew my second place finish was secured, as long as I finished. This helped me mentally to be less frustrated with being slow. Just keep on going, I have plenty of time to finish.

With fresh baselayers I headed out into the night with another rider. He was planning on going at a sweat-free pace and I thought he’d be a good person to follow along. Unfortunately for me, coming off the lake I bounced off a snowbank and tipped my bike over. Alas, I was alone again. The snowmobile single track was much more fun on the way out, with chicken noodle soup in my belly and a good rest on my legs. This energetic, revived feeling did not last.

I became startled by animals in the snow. No. No, that was just snow that looked like an animal. My bedtime is pretty strict, mainly because my body enforces it. And now it was after midnight and I was up past my bedtime. Maintaining a straight line was a struggle. I decided to chug half my thermos of black tea to try and stay awake. The main outcome of that was to make me feel ill—like I was about to be sick. But at least I wasn’t sleepy. After what felt like an eternity, I arrived at the train depot in Winter. Despite what I thought, the depot itself wasn’t open.

I joined other racers while we all tried to figure out our next steps. Sleeping at the depot meant laying out on the wooden platform, which would be quite chilly in -20 degrees F with the draft under the platform. Saying goodbye to the nice, warm bathroom, I decided to push on the next 5 miles to the Ojibwa checkpoint. By now I was really sleepy and thought these 5 miles would drag on. However, the clouds were clearing, making the temperature drop, but then the stars began to shine. Down the trail, just above the trees I could see a red star, twinkling, leading me onward. Mars! Seeing Mars energized me and the five miles I was dreading went by quickly.

Again the volunteers took good care of me, providing me with hot chocolate and soup. Another racer, Matt, and I talked over the benefits of taking a nap or pushing through the night. My knees had been hurting for a couple dozen miles, so a nap would help with wandering across the trail while being sleepy and would give my knees a rest. Matt agreed a nap would be good and we set up our bivvies. I wore my big puffy jacket, puffy pants, refreshed the toe warmers between sock layers and wore my boot liners in the sleeping bag. The hardest thing about an accordion pad is keeping it from folding it back on you, so I got some help to stretch it back out and then laid down for a sleep. I’ve never slept really well in a bivy, so I didn’t anticipate needing an alarm, I planned to get up when I got tired of trying to fall asleep. Looking at the stars I closed my eyes.

When I opened them again the sky had changed colors. It wasn’t black anymore, it was a cold shade of teal. I had slept! I felt better! Wow! The volunteers were moving the picnic tables around us, so I decided it was time to get up. Matt and I hadn’t discussed if we were leaving together or if we would go on our own. He was still sleeping, so I did what my Dad does when packing up the tent while we’re camping. I put my sleeping bag away really noisily. Unfortunately it was only two pieces of gear, so I made up for lost noise by chatting with the volunteers. It was just before 7am, so I had slept for over 2 hours. No wonder I felt refreshed! Matt awoke and started on the process of getting ready too. After getting water refills and additional snacks, we were set to go out. I told Matt to go on ahead so I could go at my own pace and not worry about slowing anyone down. Sure enough on the trail from Ojibwa Park to the Tuscobia trail, I had to stop to adjust my layers. And then I stopped again because the sunrise was beautiful. And then again because the steam coming off the Chippewa River was gorgeous. A nap will do wonders for your mood.

After stopping for photos I realized that my goggles were dry and I wasn’t sweaty, so I could actually wear them again. All kinds of good things were happening! Too bad my knees weren’t feeling the joy. At least it was only 45 miles back to Rice Lake. I had the whole day to get there. So even though I was plodding along, I was still plodding.

After the thrilling up and down by the Lemington railroad tracks (will a train come through the valley at the same time as me, in a deeply unmatched game of Criss Cross Crash?) something had to change. My knees hurt so much. I didn’t know if I could keep on pedaling. Heck, I had even started walking for stretches. To attempt some relief I did a trailside pants change. Fleece-lined pants off, fleece shorts off, (keeping on bike shorts and wool long johns), I pulled on fleece-lined leggings with the fleece shorts back over top. Hopefully the stretchier fabric would give my knees a break. As I was making this change, a runner was approaching. I asked if he had any pain relievers. It was still 13 miles to Birchwood, which would be the next town with a store for me to buy my own. In the state I was in, I wouldn’t make it those miles. Fortunately, he did! My trail angel was Alex and those Ibuprofen were so, so appreciated.

Andy and the dogs met me at Ed’s Pit Stop in Birchwood and it was nice to see them and pet the puppies. I snagged some Tylenol, a hot cheese burger and some caffeinated bubbly water. I still had plenty of snacks in my bags, but nothing sounded good at that point. Except bubbly water. I really wanted bubbly water.

Usually at some point in a ride, I just want to be finished. During this race, that point came in Birchwood. I had to cover 16.5 miles on painful knees and I wanted it done in 2 hours. In normal times that seems reasonable. But I had 144 miles on my legs already and the temperature was in the single digits. Perhaps with the “get it done” determination the miles would pass quickly So off I went, boosted by dog pets and a gas station cheeseburger.

When you’re doing an ultra, or maybe anything difficult, it’s important to be your own best friend. I was not a good best friend to myself on this stretch of the course on the way out, so maybe for the return leg I could be a better friend. Alas, the best friend in my head decided it was time to sing “Here Comes Santa Claus” over and over. I hated her. Please, think of another song, any song. My brain could not think of the words to any other songs. Have I even heard other songs before? This dreariness was broken by catching up to runners on their homestretch. And what was most certainly not a hallucination, SIX (!) horse-drawn buggies. I stared in amazement. I was caught staring in amazement by a buggy driver and we exchanged waves.

Delighted I kept pushing the pedals. Seeing and overtaking runners and dodging wayward sleds, I made the left turn onto the Wild Rivers Trail that would take me to Rice Lake. The scenery looked familiar from 2 years ago, but not from the day before. It was too dark and I was too in my own head. The sun had begun its descent and I was almost done. In the distance I saw a bright orange dot, would that be Andy in his hunting jacket? The dot seemed small and far away, but gave me something to focus on. A few more choruses of Santa watching you when you sleep .. and it was Andy! The end was in sight!

I finished the Tuscobia 160 in 33 hours and 1 minute. I was the second of the two women that finished the 160 on bike. Only one other woman finished the 160, and she was on foot. Overall I’m really proud of finishing despite being grumpy, in pain, and only having the one song in my head. The finish rate for all 3 disciplines and both distances was 47%. Going at my own pace and taking a nap were what really helped me. Being able to dry out clothes, switch base layers, and having plenty of warm layers were also key to managing the cold.

I wouldn’t be able to go on adventures such as this without the support of my husband Andy, he helps make sure I do my workouts and picks up my slack at home. Otso has been a fantastic sponsor and makes sure my bike works smoothly. In late 2021 I started working with Kate Coward at Full Potential Coaching and I’ve made a lot of gains! Having someone who understands what winter ultras are all about makes the coaching incredibly focused. Finally, I appreciate the cheers and support from my teammates on Corpse Whale Racing. Our Team Mascot, Gnarly, led the way for the whole race.

The Otso Fenrir is a ride-anywhere bike for bikepacking races and afternoon adventures alike. It can be built with drop bars or with MTB bars and both selections are available as stock build options. A tire clearance of 29” x 2.6” or 27.5” x 2.8” keeps the Fenrir rolling on rough terrain, while extra frame and fork braze-ons are ready to carry gear for days or weeks on the trail. Like all Otso bikes, the Fenrir has adjustable geometry via the patented Tuning Chip rear dropout system that makes the bike as adaptable as its rider.

While all Otso bikes are known for their versatility, the Fenrir might be the most versatile yet. It was designed to accommodate drop bars with a 50mm stem or MTB bars with an 80mm stem. The ability to build the Fenrir with different handlebar styles allows the rider to customize the bike to their riding style. When built with drop bars, the Fenrir rides like a gravel bike with extra helpings of capability and confidence. With MTB bars, the Fenrir is lively, fast, and rides like a capable 90s XC bike. Both configurations are meant to ride any road or trail on the map and carry all the gear necessary to get there.

The Fenrir frame is made with custom-butted austenitic stainless steel for a smooth ride and corrosion resistance. It is available in five sizes, from XS to XL. Build it with gears or single speed, with either mechanical or electronic geared drivetrains. The Fenrir has a head tube angle of 68º, a seat tube angle of 75º, boost spacing, and 88mm of trail. It comes stock with a carbon ENVE Mountain Fork that has three-pack mounts on either side and a reversible dropout chip for adjustable rake. The Fenrir can accept a suspension fork with up to 100mm of travel, has routing for a cable-actuated dropper post, and has rack and fender mounts.. All build options, from handlebar type, to wheel size, to tires, to drivetrain, to anodized color accents and more can be selected on the custom bike builder.

Present on all Otso bikes is the Tuning Chip rear dropout system, which allows the rider to adjust the bike’s geometry. This is essentially a dropout with three fixed positions. The Tuning Chip can change the wheelbase by up to 20mm, the bottom bracket height by up to 4mm, and the head tube angle by 0.2º. The front position is made for agile handling on winding trails, with a shorter wheelbase, higher bottom bracket, and steeper head tube angle. The back position of the Tuning Chip is made for a stable, confident ride on sketchy terrain, with a longer wheelbase, lower button bracket, and head tube angle with more slack. Changing positions of the Tuning Chip takes 5-10 minutes and can be done in a home workshop.

The Fenrir is available as a frameset and a complete build that can get started here, as well as with Otso dealers.

Everything comes back to timing. Calendars, clocks, watches, and luck. If this year’s Heck of the North were held 24 hours earlier, we would’ve spent the day riding through autumn rain on sloppy roads and ATV trails. Instead, we were treated to hard, packed gravel and ideal weather by anyone’s definition for bikes, fall colors, type-two fun.

Heck of the North is an event we look forward to every year. It’s held near Two Harbors, Minnesota on the North Shore of Lake Superior. Fall can come early in this part of the state. Past years experienced frosty tents in the morning, rain, sleet, and sometimes even snow. But this year, weather timing lined up and fall colors were paired with cool temps and partly sunny skies.

The event has three distances: 100 miles, 50 miles, and 20 miles. Riders select their distance based on their ambition. Some choose to race against others, some choose to race against their personal clocks, and some choose to slow roll the course for a 100-, 50-, or 20-mile party with friends. There’s no wrong way (or right way) to enjoy gravel.

A big draw for Heck of the North is the fall colors. The courses combine gravel roads with ATV trails with some technical sections to keep riders on their toes. Brilliant orange and red maples are mixed with golden birches and evergreens under blue skies for a spectacular show. It’s a challenge just to keep your eyes on the trail with scenery like this. Peak leaf in this part of Minnesota is typically early October. Barring the Gales of November coming early and blowing away every last leaf, a race in late September is perfect for the best fall colors. Again with timing.

Fortunately for everyone who wasn’t able to ride (or those who were too focused on their computers to enjoy the course), we’ve got lots of photos from the day. We worked with photographer Evan Frost to tell the story of Heck of the North 2021 in photos.

View and download photos here: https://otsocycles.pixieset.com/heckofthenorth2021/

Use password ‘otso’ for access. Images are free to download. Please credit @efrostee and tag #HeckOfTheNorth if you post on Instagram.

Thanks to all Heck riders, their families/support crews, and spectators for keeping things fun and friendly on the course. Thanks to volunteers for making this experience possible. And thanks to Jeremy Kershaw and Heck of the North Productions for creating an event that shows the very best of Minnesota cycling. We hope timing works out and that we can do it all again with everyone next year.