It was touch and go there for a while. Where are they? Lost? Eaten by bears?

No. They had lost their GPS doodad.

Jay and Tracey Petervary, a Jackson Hole couple, are riding a tandem mountain bike from Banff to the Mexican border. Last Friday at 10 a.m. in Banff, Alberta, Canada, the Petervary’s and 41 solo cyclists took off heading south to follow a 2,700 mile route to Antelope Wells, New Mexico along the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route.

On Monday, Steve Romeo posted on Facebook a casual mention that the Petervary’s were running fourth. With that I instantly became addicted to tracking their progress, neatly packaged online with an elegant amalgam of Google Maps, Spot (a GPS tracking and messaging service) and all sorts of time-trial slice’n'dice computations.

Later Monday JayP and T-Race had dropped to fifth due to a 30-mile wrong turn. Then on early Tuesday, around Lincoln, Montana, they seemed to have come to a complete halt. I found it difficult to get any work done. After all, another couple had reported having to bully a grizzly and brown bear from the trail. Thankfully, JayP phoned from Helena, Montana at 3 pm to report they had lost their Spot handheld unit. Any panic was mine alone, fueled by incessant mouse-clicking.

The event is called Tour Divide. It’s not an official race so much as concurrent individual time trials, the cyclotourist’s version of the Cannonball Baker Sea-To-Shining Sea Memorial Trophy Dash. The rules are few, designed to add up to one thing: a lean, low-impact bike trip of pluck, luck and long-distance grace. No sag wagons. No caching food and supplies. No drafting. You feed and shelter yourself along the trail as you would on any bike tour.

As of Thursday evening, Matthew Lee, who set the record last year in 19 days, 12 hours, is leading the pack by a hefty margin. (Both Lee and Jay Petervary have set Tour Divide records.) The Petervary’s progress is back online and they’ve resumed fourth place, about a day behind Lee.

The route dips into Jackson Hole via the Ashton-Flagg road, follows a good chunk of pavement to Moran Junction, heads over Togwotee Pass and heads south along the Union Pass Road. The Petervary’s should hit this section over the weekend. Cheering section, anyone?

As of 4:44 a.m. Friday, Matthew Lee was on the the move into Jackson Hole. Jay and Tracey Petervary, on a tandem mountain bike, are about a day behind Lee:

David J. Swift is a photographer, writer and now, filmmaker. He’s also an excellent cheerleader.

Spring has finally arrived in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.

The gullies are full of corn, ripe for the picking. Another banner year of snowfall has giving us a bit longer of a spring ski season up in the ravines. Most of the classic ski runs that don’t face south are still skiing top to bottom, and as always Tuckerman Ravine is still packing in crowds. Mid-April is usually prime time to be in the Presidential Range, with plenty of snow down into the lower reaches of the valleys so skiing all the way out to the car is an real option, not a base ripping mud-fest.

There’s always one crazy weekend up on Mount Washington, it’s called the Son of Inferno Race. Some locals love it, others could do without it, but either way it’s a rugged race. It involves five legs, so I guess that makes it a pentathlon, but not the kind you see at the Olympics.

The legs include, biking, kayaking, running, hiking, and the final leg is a ski race, complete with gates, somewhere in Tuckerman Ravine.

The idea for the race spawned from the original “Inferno Race” which was the mother all ski races back in the 1930’s. A four-mile, 4,000 vertical foot course from the summit of Mount Washington to the Pinkham Notch. Some crazy Austrian named Toni Matt burned down the course in six minutes, 29 seconds.

I’m guessing on a pair of wooden skis that, today you’d be hard pressed to find anyone to even ski from the summit, let alone straight-line it to the parking lot. Hats off to the Austrian for setting the bar so high 75 years ago.

It seems that each year more people come up to watch the skiers up in “Tucks.” I’m not sure if it’s pure fascination watching out-of-control skiers cartwheeling down a steep slope or if it’s just a really really unique place to hang out on a spring day. I’m guessing it’s a little of both.

The great part about the mountains here in New England is that there’s always somewhere that you go an find a little slice of solitude. Maybe somewhere only a few folks know about, perhaps a north facing chute that stays in until June, or a ephemeral line that only comes in after some rare combination of weather patterns. You know, the spots that creep into your daydreams during the hottest months of summer when blowing snow and freezing temps are the farthest from your mind.

Joe Klementovich is one of Cloudveil’s Inspired Mountain Ambassadors. He also edits NH Adventures and shoots outdoor lifestyle photography (Klementovichphoto.com).

The organizers call the Extreme a “show,” highlighting the best skiers in the world on the most difficult competition face in the world.

As a competitor, I see the Extreme as a competition and more. I wanted to choose a winning line, but I also wanted to make it to the bottom of the Bec de Rosses unscathed. It was difficult to make a choice between a winning line and possibly getting hurt or skiing for the rest of the season.

A winning line includes: exposure, big airs, fast skiing, and pushing yourself to the edge.

I spent two days and two sleepless nights trying to decide if it was worth skiing the winning line or skiing a less exposed line and giving up the win. The other thought I couldn’t get out of my mind was; if I don’t ski the winning line, will someone else ski it?

The winning line was obvious. It was over heavy exposure (if you fall you will most definitely get hurt), included two 20-foot airs, and had the worst snow conditions on the face. The more appealing line began over heavy exposure into a chute that had a mandatory 20-foot air in the middle. This line was more appealing because once you made it into the chute you were relatively safe. If you were to fall, you would be okay.

The more appealing line.

My goal this season was to win the Freeride World Tour. My season started off great winning Russia and then I was off to Japan. After Japan, my body was beat up and my mind needed a break, but there was no time.

I pushed on to Squaw and Tignes moving from 1st on the FWT to 6th. The Verbier Extreme would be my last opportunity to insure myself a spot on the FWT for the 2010 season. I needed to finish in the top four. It was hard to decide what to ski. Should I ski for the win, risking injury and not making the tour next year. Or ski a second place line which was safer and would probably put me in the top four for next year.

In the end, my decision was made with my heart. I have always told myself to ski the line that looks like the most fun. The winning line didn’t look like fun at all and the other line looked like a lot of fun.

Bad Snow and a Not So Fun Line

Standing in the starting gate for my final competition run in 2010, I knew I was not going to ski a winning line. It is one of the strangest feelings I have ever had.

I have never not skied to win, but I didn’t know if someone else would attempt the winning line and if it would work out well for her. As I left the starting gate, I decided to rip my chosen line as fast and flawlessly as possible. And I did. I ripped my line with no hesitation off the mandatory 20-foot air and into two more airs. I was at the bottom in under 30 seconds. It was a beautiful line. I skied into second and finished third overall on the Freeride World Tour.

Awards Ceremony, Verbier Extreme

It feels really good to be Back in Jackson. My goal is still to win the Freeride World Tour and I will have the opportunity in 2010.

Cloudveil congratulates Jess McMillan on another incredible season. Welcome home, Jess!

I’ve got a few nicknames: “One gear,” “single speed,” “asshat.”

Actually, that last one is more a term of endearment … at least I hope so, as it comes out of my husband’s mouth several times an hour whenever we’re together. Anyway, looking at the first two, you should notice they both hint at a one particular quality of mine: whether I’m going for 24 hours or two, my speed is the same.

Or so I had thought.

To invigorate my skinning up Snow King, as well as to support the burgeoning local rando racing scene, I – along with between 30 and 40 others (!) — have been doing the Heather Paul Memorial Rando Races at the King the past few weeks. And they’ve been awesome. Well, except for the green phlegmballs I was coughing up for a few hours after each one.

It turns out I was able to find slightly more than one gear. Let’s say my usual gearing – the gear I used in the 24 Hours of Sunlight – is a 34/25. In the Heather Paul races, I was able to find perhaps a 34/21. I mean, this past Thursday night, it only took me 10 minutes longer to reach the summit than it did my mutant husband and the rest of the race leaders.

But it wasn’t the fact that I found gear 1.5 that made the “races” awesome. It’s a totally informal scene. No Le Mans Start. Just a count down from five for the start. No awards ceremony. Heck, there aren’t even any times unless you remember to ask Forest Dramis as you pass him just before the Panorama House at the top. Everyone’s there for fun. There are a few of us in full rando race get-ups; others are on mid-weight (think Dynafit bindings on fat skis) backcountry set-ups; still others are on split boards; and there are even some Fritschi bindings on super-fat boards out there. (This last one is the only one I don’t understand. With Dynafit around – and having added some totally huck-yourself-off-anything-you-want bindings-and-it’s-all-good to its lineup – why is anyone on Fritschis anymore?)

It’s like cats and dogs playing together. All the different subcategories of our backcountry community are coming together in peace and harmony.

But I digress. If you haven’t yet made it over to the King on a Thursday night at 5:45 (registration starts at 5:30; “race” starts at 6:00) get there this Thursday. It’s the last race of the four-race series. Most likely you’ll know more than a few people swarming around the starting line. Oh, and did I mention the post-race free beer? And the awesome sammies provided so kindly by Backcountry Provisions (thanks guys!)? And the raffle in which nearly everyone wins something? (Last week I won something I hadn’t realized was missing from my life: a snow-leopard-faced Dynafit belt buckle that doubles as a bottle opener. Really, are there any two functions – holding your pants up and opening a beer bottle – that could so seamlessly be combined in one stylish product?)

With all this, how can it not be super fun, even if you decide to go so hard as to cough up green phlegmballs afterwards?

Author’s Note: For those of you who didn’t know her, Heather Paul was an all-around groovy, kick-ass Jackson mountain chick who died on Cloudveil Peak. She’d have totally approved of these races. And probably not needed 10 minutes more than my husband to reach the summit.

About the Photos: Sorry I don’t have any photos of the actual race. When I asked Forest D. if he had any he looked at me like I had two heads, “Dude, we’re writing raffle numbers on pieces of toilet paper,” he said. “We don’t have any photos.”

About the Author: Freelance writer Dina Mishev wrote this while sitting on a beach in Belize.

Sari and I are in France where she’s racing in the 24th annual Pierra Menta, an infamous, four-day randonee stage race, where 180 teams of two will skin up and ski down over 10,000 meters (32,000 feet) before the finish on Sunday.

And, because Sari seems to love any kind of race that involves an obscure sport, loads of expensive gear, days of suffering and virtually no prize money, this was a race she couldn’t miss.

I’m here as a cheerleader and I’ll do my best to blog updates on Sari and all of Team America each night.

So, here goes. …

Team America is present and accounted for – 12 boisterous Yankees that stick out like sore thumbs in this tiny town of Areches, tucked away deep in the French Alps where no one speaks any English and it’s perfectly normal to run around in a one-piece, skin tight ski suit and lime green boots all day. Read More »

Toughen Up Camp from Lauren M. Whaley on Vimeo.

When his Brown University football buddies visit each year from the east coast, Stefan Fodor makes gives them the full western treatment. They shoot guns, shotgun beers, race snowmobiles, ski and compete in physical challenges. These guys – one from New York, one from Massachusetts – had just walked off the plane when Stefan made them compete in what he calls the annual Uncle Fodor’s Toughen Up Camp. (UFTUC is modeled after Rob Shaul’s Mountain Athlete.)

They never declared the Toughest or Strongest Man, just talked shit, cheered each other on and wheezed, grunted and laughed their way through the sandbag get-ups and carries, leg blasters, tire drags and the finale goal line jump-roll-tackle.

Yeah I skinned 34,500 feet in 24 hours (a new world record) at last weekend’s 24 Hours of Sunlight. And yes, I fueled some of it – but not as much as planned as I only ate two of the eight I requested my brother buy me – with McDonald’s double cheeseburgers.

Based on the incredulity this latter fact has been met by, it seems no one else has discovered the gloriously gruicy (greasy/juicy) caloric bang-for-a-buck of the McDonald’s double cheeseburger (490 calories for just over $1).

You guys do know about Hostess fruit pies, right? (480 calories for just under $1 … but less protein and more sugar … and harder to transport.)

And that Snickers really can satisfy?

I put in massive amounts of training, skinning up Snow King sometimes upwards of 20 times a week, for 24 Hours of Sunlight. (One day I did 10 laps.) I spent only slightly less time thinking about food. (Out of both boredom and an interest in my caloric needs.)

Eating horrible foods like double cheeseburgers (with Big Mac sauce) isn’t the main reason I’m drawn to ultra-endurance events and long days in the mountains, but it’s certainly one of them. But then, I’ve never before suffered from the exercise-induced gastritis that has plagued me since Sunlight ended.

Are the 10 pounds I’ve lost in the six days since Sunlight ended the result of eating too many or too few double cheeseburgers? Or maybe it’s because of the chicken broth that got me through the night? Or the ramen I’d slurp down without chewing?

During Sunlight, the skinning wasn’t the hardest part. Neither was the tedium of covering the exact same path 23 times. Eating was the hard part. Knowing that no amount of laps on Snow King can help me during a race in which I don’t eat enough, I had a goal of 200-300 calories an hour.

But that, for the first time ever, was challenging for me. Both physically and mentally.

Physically challenging because although I can walk and chew gum at the same time, I can’t consistently eat and skin simultaneously. At least not without a concentrated effort.

It taxed me mentally because, even though I majored in math, figuring out different food combinations to reach my 200-300 calories/ hour goal was a strain and also because – at least from lap 18 on — I was so bloated (from the blood that was evidently beginning to collect in my stomach – fun stuff), eating was the last thing I wanted to do. And then my taste buds went all whack. I know Ensure (another great caloric bang-for-a-buck) and chicken broth taste very different, but they sure didn’t then. Both were equally gross. I might even have described them as tasting like, “rotted, burnt poo.”

Not surprisingly, between the inadequate eating and the guy following me playing Eye of the Tiger on a mini boombox, my last laps got pretty slow.

Crossing the finish line after my very last lap (the 23rd), I distinctly remember saying, out loud, “I don’t need to do that again.”

Now that I’m (mostly) recovered (and 10 pounds lighter!), I’m remembering something else: to my initial goal for Sunlight. It actually wasn’t to set the women’s world record for most vertical feet skied uphill in 24 hours. It was to skin 37,500 feet, a figure that would also happen to get me the record (which was 33,000).

So, even though I got the record, I didn’t really reach my goal. Which brings me back to thinking about food. I really couldn’t stand to train any more. As it was, one more lap up Snow King and I think I would have lost it. Besides, 30,000-40,000 vertical feet/week is enough. I can’t dial in my gear any more (Goode rando race skis are amazing). My mental game is good. I can’t cut down on breaks during the race. (I only took one, which lasted about seven minutes and was necessary to switch socks and liners.) Food is all I can change.

But the question remains, should I have eaten more double cheeseburgers (with Big Mac sauce) or less?

Skinning 34,500 feet, Jackson-based Dina Mishev won the women’s solo division and set a new women’s world record for the most vertical feet skied uphill by a woman in 24 hours at the Fourth Annual 24 Hours of Sunlight. She welcomes most any food input (especially any input that involves increased consumption of gruicy foods).