The trip to France was amazing.  Thanks to a busy year of travelling, Kirsten and I were upgraded to Business Class.  As much as I enjoy getting the occasional perk care of Air Canada, sharing it with my frugal sister was better.  This was my first trip on the fully reclinable bed seat and it will be difficult to go back to the rigid seat backs of Economy.  Pictures of Kirsten drinking white wine and eating salmon appetizers will forever make the experience worthwhile.

We immediately caught a train from Paris to Avignon; and by the time we arrived 26 hours after my journey began in Whitehorse, I was exhasuted.  At 3:00 pm local time, I fell asleep, and woke up rested and ready a full 16 hours later.

One of the reasons we chose France was that both Kirsten and I were french immersion kids.  A return to France was an opportunity to practice our language skills.  Selfishly, I was excited about a trip where I could actually understand everything happening around me.  Egypt 3 years ago was the most difficult, and Spain last year was only slightly easier.  With a good grasp of the language, both written and oral I was happy to travel around effortlessly.

For my first full day (awake) in France, I had some errands to run.  Small things I’d forgotten to do, or was to busy to finish before I left.  Coincidentally it was also my first real language challenge.  What is the correct translation for:  Don’t worry – I’m the 5 time hairiest leg champion of the Yukon.

Despite my 12 years of schooling, I couldn’t quite figure out what to say to the poor French esthetician who gasped at the sight of my unwaxed legs.  Thankfully tips are internationally understood.

The end of snowbiking is not entirely unexpected.  Most of this week was spent on skinny tires.  Our Tuesday spinning has been replaced by intervals on the highway and the truck has been evicted from the garage to make room for bicycles.

The nice thing about going from 4 inches of rubber to 23 mm on your tires is that for a few brief days you feel like a superstar.  Suddenly the commute to work takes half the time and the average speed of a ride is tripled.  I cling to this feeling of greatness, because tomorrow’s the first Hell Ride and all my self-esteem is likely to be quashed on the first hill.

Until then – I am Queen of the Road!

Spring in the Yukon is a time for jealousy.  While temperatures rise South of 60, the Yukon stays cold and covered in snow.  Thanks to the wonders of social media, there’s a constant reminder that mountain bike trails are opening up.  Photos of dirt start popping up, just in time for snow bike trails to degrade into slush.  I find myself refreshing the Aeroplan page, hoping that a flight will open up and I’ll be somewhere else, where Spring means green – not brown.

But then suddenly there’s Yukon Spring magic.   As of March 21st, we’ve pulled ahead in the light race and even though we can’t seem to catch up in temperature, the big sky is bright and full of delicious Vitamin D.  Easter weekend is the perfect time to celebrate snowy spring on a Yukon lake.

What we lack in grass we make up for in snow and ice.

What we are missing in joules, we make up for in lumens.

Our decks and patios aren’t open, but that can’t stop us from enjoying beer and smokies.

Jealous anyone?

Layer 1

Time to wash your stinky long-johns, because who needs a bottom layer when it’s this nice out!

Layer 2

Bike-wife found this little gem – custom made wool jerseys with our girl’s only fat-bike club’s name: Fat Tire Ballerinas.  I have had a few wool jerseys, but this one has held up better than all the other brand names, has a great zip pocket in the  back and is thick enough for a fairly chilly day.

Pear Izumi tights once again – it’s a good think I have four pairs of these things.  What they lack in style, they make up for in comfort.

After the grey sky ride on Wednesday, both Thursday and Friday were bluebird beautiful.  Inspired by the bright sun, we decided to go on a birthday bike ride for Paula on Saturday.  Because Environment Canada was promising a clear, sunny day, we planned to explore the Jackson/Fish Lake area – one of the prettiest spots near Whitehorse.   A spring sun, reflecting off a frozen lake, can mean jacket free riding; and maybe even a suntan.

Peaking outside at 9:00 am on Saturday morning, it became clear, Environment Canada had lied.  The blue sky was grey.  The sun was hidden behind layers of cloud.  The thermometer was suggesting a jackets mandatory day.  It’s not entirely known whether the grey sky was causing foul moods; or the foul moods had clouded up the sky; but needless to say, the group of girls weren’t in the same bright spirits as the night before.  I don’t want to name names, but Jenn was particularly grumpy.  The only group unfazed by the change in weather was our pack of canine companions, who couldn’t care less about the sky – too much pee to smell and squirrels to chase.

We started out on Haeckel Hill.  The ride out to Fish Lake was fairly quiet.  A strong headwind had us riding in a mini-fat tired peleton, which isn’t that conducive to conversation.

The funny thing about grey skies is that they ruin any beautiful landscape pictures, but highlight things you’ve never noticed before.  When you aren’t looking up at vistas and big skies, things closer to the ground grab your attention.  We traveled through little cabin communities full of buried cars, Yukon decor and lots of artifacts (aka rusty things).

The bright green Yukon Energy sign:

Some new real estate for Starbuck (he’s looking at getting out on his own, and figures a trailer could be the perfect first home):

At Fish Lake, we pulled over for a birthday fire and lunchtime snack.  By this time, we’d accepted that the weather was not going to change.  Pulling down trees, and embracing our inner warrior women was highly amusing; and the 6 packs of Peanut Butter Cups probably helped too.

From our shelter on the lake, we took pictures of passing sled teams, while they took pictures of crazy female bikers.  It wasn’t totally clear who was the more interesting group.

Further improving life was a strong tailwind and a net elevation drop on the way back.  I guess we don’t control the skies with our moods, because at the end we had smiles, but no sun.   Our “bad day” turned out pretty fun, even for Crankasaurus Jenn.

I am no different than my neighbors in this regard; and if you are going to obsess over sunrises and sunsets, the Equinox and Solstice have inflated importance.  Before moving to the Yukon, the changes of seasons meant nothing to me – now I find little ways of celebrating the comings and goings of my favorite ball of plasma.

This year, I celebrated Spring with a ride up Grey Mountain.  Unfortunately, I don’t care enough about the sun to follow its every move.  I had planned for a Wednesday night ride – assuming the 21st of March to be the first day of Spring.  The Mr. informed me on Monday, that the vernal equinox was actually March 19th at 10:14 pm.  I am choosing to ignore this fact.

I expected my ride to be a solo one, but was pleasantly surprised when I stopped at the local bike shop and found out that my friend Paula had just purchased a Surly Pugsley.  I, in all my bountiful generosity, convinced the boys to build it up with some pink grips, thinking this would drive her crazy.  Sadly (or gladly), she actually liked the hot pink accent; and agreed to join me on my ride.

Going up the Grey Mountain Road isn’t the most exciting ride, but it is beautiful.  When planning my Spring celebration, I had visions of blue sky, bright sun and warm weather.  Had I ridden on Monday – on the actual Equinox – this dream would have been realized.   The weather was chilly, the sky was grey; but grey trumps black, and you can’t win them all.

Three months ago you needed a headlamp at 4:00 pm.  Three months from now, you won’t need a headlamp at all.  Right now, the sun gives you enough time to enjoy a long ride after work.  The rest of the world might be green with Spring, but I have to admit, the big 12 hour sun is fun to watch gleaming off a snowy landscape.  Only 3 more months until we are in the land of Midnight Sun; and 6 more months until it’s dark and freezing again.   In between there’s lots to talk about.

My crack is so full of snow right now – Monika Melnychuk

Cycling was an important tool in the women’s movement.  With cycling came freedom, movement outside of small neighborhoods and pants.   Bikes it seemed, were a catalyst for change – both in fashion and politics. Although the world has changed since the days of Susan B. Anthony, you only need to look so far as the recent debate on birth control rights to be reminded that the journey may not be over.  Today was National Women’s Ride Day - a day to celebrate the bike’s place in feminist history.  What better way to honor the bike  then by going for an all ladies ride.

I am grateful for many things in my life – but a group of amazing female bike friends is pretty high on the list.  Doesn’t matter if we are battling SAD (Seasonal Affectiveness Disorder) with wine and spinning, taking off on the latest bike-cation, or just riding around Whitehorse; we always have  a good time.  I knew I’d have no trouble convincing the girls to celebrate National Women’s Ride Day, especially if I promised alcohol and potato chips.   After a couple weeks of questionable trail quality, I was excited to find out if the other side of town had some better options.  Once the champagne was safely stowed in a snowbank, we headed out onto on our ride.

The first section of the trail was awesome, heavily packed by eager Spring Break walkers it was smooth and hard, way faster than anything else I’ve ridden lately.  By the time we hit the bottom of Quickie it was big smiles all around.

Unfortunately, within the first 100 m of the Quickie up-track the trail conditions deteriorated significantly.  The entire trail was coated in greasy, fresh snow that slid wheels off the path and threw them into deep snow.  A normally quick climb was slow, with many unforeseen snowy interruptions.  But instead of disintegrating into frustration, the frequent falls had us doubled over with laughter.

At the top of the climb, my cheeks sore from over-smiling, I shook my head: “There is going to be some serious carnage” were the last words I uttered before rolling 10 meters down the trail, planting my front wheel in 1 foot of fresh powder and flipping straight onto my head.  The great thing about girlfriends is you know they’ll always be there for you; there to take photos and laugh as you struggle to lift a bike off of your back and stand back up.

A favor you are happy to return 100 m down the trail, when said girlfriends have to shimmy up trees to pull themselves out of 2 feet of fresh powder.

No matter how crappy the trail, or how crappy the day, riding with a bunch of girls makes life better.  Maybe I should thank bikes for helping make it possible for me to vote or for giving me access to education and jobs that my grandmothers didn’t have.  But mostly I thank bikes for giving me my awesome bike friends.  Now that’s something to celebrate, with stereotypically pink champagne.

It’s St. Patrick’s Day – and as a Dutch Norwegian who doesn’t drink beer  or whiskey – I can’t say it’s an important holiday in my life.   But despite my St. Patty’s apathy, I have learned one thing about March 17th, it’s all about the green.

First green was the northern lights – dancing above the Takhini hotsprings only a few minutes after midnight.  My friend Margi booked the hotsprings for an private evening of soaking.  Because we had the place to ourselves we were able to turn off all the lights, and enjoy the benefits of solar storms.

Little known fact – St. Patrick was also the patron saint of cool bike accessories (as was St. Nick and the Easter Bunny).   No better way to honor his memory then with chromag bars, rolling darryl rims and some jagwire cable.

St. Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland.   Unfortunately, there are no snakes currently residing in my backyard, so Starbuck and I worked to drive out another pest – Mr. Squirrel.   Our pesky spring/summer resident is back in action and already enjoying heckling us from the fence.  Starbuck stared the beast down, while I tried to ward him off using my bright new coat.  If the color wasn’t enough, the fur lined hood should fill Mr. Squirrel with fear.  If he’s not careful, he might become my new headband.

The only thing that could have made this holiday better/greener would have been a little bit of greenery on the ground.  Watching the temperatures rise south of 60 has me excited about dirt trails.

It’s difficult to accept marginal trails after a winter of amazing.  But, I haven’t been on my bike since our overnight trip and sometimes an okay ride is better than a good day on the couch.

Starbuck and I decided to take the road up to the trails – it’s much easier to cope with soft paths when gravity is on your side.  The road section was surprisingly good – a strong tailwind had me believing I was in incredible shape.  It took until I turned around to face the blowing snow, before I realized just how much help I had gotten.  Halfway up the hill, I got a text from Niki and Monika – they were also heading up Grey Mountain and the new plan was to meet up for the ride down.

I stopped at a couple of trail heads along the way, checking the snow depth and trying to figure out what the best way down might be.  After passing a couple of snowed in entrances, I came upon the opening to Cantlie Lake trail.  Although not normally a favored snowbike route,  Cantlie Lake gets a lot of snowmobile traffic, so at least it wasn’t fresh powder.

Monika and Niki met me at the entrance and we headed down the slippery, soft slope.    The problem wasn’t snow depth, it was snow slip.  The hill was greasy, and if yelps were any indication, we spent most of the ride barely remaining vertical.  Even though we were on a downwards trajectory, the bad snow was already slowing us down.  Once we hit Long Flat trail, which is as its name suggests is flat and long, we were barely moving.

So it wasn’t great, but it was still a couple hours outside, with friends, on a bike.    Plus, after watching some of the videos from the Iditarod Trail Invitational, I’ve got nothing to complain about.  My favorite part of Pete Basinger’s clip is when they can’t help but giggle.  Sometimes when it gets bad, you just gotta laugh (and then, if you’re me…cry).

This weekend, Yukon was lucky to have two new female fat bikers in town.  Jill Homer - hereinafter known as Dr. Jill – is a famous endurance athlete who’s biked the Great Divide and the Iditarod.  She’s also a friend who’s visited Whitehorse for a couple of local events, as well as just to hang out.  For the last couple weeks Jill’s been in Alaska, running in the Susitna 100, and watching her boyfriend Beat run the Iditarod Invitaitonal.  Jill Missal - hereinafter known as Hunter Missal – is GearGals, a female gear blogger who I’ve only met through the twitterverse.  In 140 characters or less, the two Alaskan Jills, Bike-wife and I have been plotting a fat bike weekend.

The Jills arrived on Friday night after a long car ride in from Anchorage.  Yukon and Alaska may be close on a map, but without an airline to connect them, they tend to involve long drives.  On Saturday, we spent the day exploring Yukon single track – double riding so that we could check out Quickie and Boogaloo in the same day.

Sunday was the main event – an overnight snowbike ride along the Dawson Overland trail.  The trail, formerly a winter mail route from Whitehorse to Dawson City, is a well traveled snowmobile route and part of the Yukon Quest.  Our trip would take us from Braeburn Lodge to Takhini River Road – 100 km split evenly between two days.

This trip was a multi-biketual adventure.  I was on Wednesday, my titanium Fatback.  Hunter Missal rode a titanium 9:zero:7, similar to my bike, but even lighter thanks to the absence of a front brake.  Bike-wife was on her Salsa Mukluk; and Dr. Jill rode a borrowed Surly Pugsley.  We were successfully representing all major fat bike brands.

The Mr. drove us out to Braeburn Lodge, gave us a quick summary of the trail and off we rode.  Day 1 was warm – within the first half hour I’d abandoned my hat and was riding bare headed.   The highlight for me, was a small snowmobile trail that Hunter Missal discovered when trying to find the facilities.   Halfway down the trail, the silence of the forest was interrupted by the sound of a rushing river – right underneath your feet.  Hunter Missal and I were mesmerized, the other two girls were not as keen on standing on top of the frozen river.

Overall, the trail was nice and firm, with enough room to ride side by side with plenty of opportunity to chat and visit.  Although we’d left Whitehorse in blue skies, most of our ride was spent in soft snow with hazy skies.

The one break in the weather was accompanied by the most colorful sundog I’ve ever seen.  Unfortunately, my skills at capturing the moment on megabytes are lacking.

After 40 km of riding, we finally met up with our Cabin Boy – the incredibly kind Sky Hunter who had kindly volunteered to bring our food out to the cabin.  While the use of a Cabin Boy may spoil the purity of a hut to hut – it turned out to be a brilliant decision.  Sky Hunter had come upon our planned Klondike Snowmobile Association cabin, only to discover it was occupied by a couple of bison hunters.  While we were out the trail, he found us a Trapper’s cabin that we could use for the night to stay warm and dry.  He was able to direct us to our new accommodations before nightfall – and even got the stove going for us.

The cabin was probably the best part of our trip.  Despite the snowmobile for transportation, we only brought the essentials: wine, cheese, chocolate, beer, pasta, eggs, bacon, pancakes, syrup and Reese’s Peanut Butter cups.

After a long day of exercise, we started our cabin time huddled close to the woodstove, desperate to get every joule of heat energy.  With each passing hour our chairs moved back, widening the semi-circle as the stove got warmer and warmer.   By half way through the night, Dr. Jill was singing Ne-Yo’s “It’s Getting Hot in Here” as we changed into tank tops and rolled up our pants.  Finally, the beer was done, the wine-skins were empty and it was time to climb into our sleeping bags and rest up for the morning.

At 6:30 am, the sauna cabin was back to needing a wood fire; and I had the coldest sleeping bag.  By the time I gathered more wood, it was time to start on breakfast anyway.  We had convinced our Cabin Boy to stay the evening, instead of travelling back to town in the dark.  After water was boiled for coffee, bacon cooked in the fire, and pancakes slowly baked, we loaded the snowmobile with garbage and our sleeping bags and sent Sky Hunter on his way.

After leaving a nice message for the cabin owner, we packed our own bikes up and started down the trail.  Despite a snowy evening, the route was still packed well, and we were able to make good time.  We even started our ride in blue skies with a big, bright sun.  Unfortunately, within the first 10 km, the temperature started to drop and stopping to eat was made more difficult by the chilly weather.

The trail is not incredibly exciting, or particularly challenging – but is consistent and dotted with interesting historical artifacts.  There were some fun, long descents; a long section of climbing and plenty of fast, flat sections.  It was also a great way to try out an overnight bike trip – leaving me more confident in joining the Mr. for some of his longer adventures.

By the time we pulled up to the car at 3:30 pm, we’d ridden for almost 10 hours in total.  Seems like a long time on bikes, but thanks to good conversation, and wicked 80s ballads, the time flew by. It was fun to see the surprised expressions on the snowmobilers faces as they came across a group of women, riding bikes, in the middle of winter.   I’m hoping this becomes an annual adventure – perhaps next time we’ll trek up to Alaska.

Same trip, different blogs:

For more information on the historical elements of the trail, see Jennoit’s post: http://jennoit.blogspot.com/2012/03/741-1842-sunset-ya-know-if-this-was.html

For an awesome Robert Service inspired poem, see Dr. Jill’s post: http://arcticglass.blogspot.com/2012/03/there-are-strange-things-done.html