Returning Home to the Great Land: Ugly Feet

Of the racers that started the Alaska Mountain Wilderness Classic, more than half scratched. And the ones that finished sure had ugly feet! Big blisters, swollen ankles, and black toenails ugly. One guy says that his toenails fall off every year, and grow back just in time for the following years race, where they fall off all over again.

Traversing over mountains, through thick, bear infested brush and swamplands, and running wild rivers, it took the winning guys just under five days to reach Central, after which they collapsed into beds and sleeping bags. By evening, everyone was up and enjoying a beer around the fire on the second longest day of the year. The fire wasn't for the cold, it was to keep at bay the swarms of buzzing, biting mosquitoes that thickly populate the interior. The sun had barely set, and without any real darkness, was rising again when another racer came in at 4:00 AM. After about five and a half days on the go, with 7 hours total of sleep, he was hallucinating wildly. Trees became dancing Tinkerbells, witches on broomsticks, Tin men, potato heads, and prostitutes, rocks became princess jewelry, scrimshaw, and Mosaic tile work, and coals in the fire were squirrels wearing Russian hats.

My grandfather, at 80 years old, was doing the race under the newly created masters division, which basically means that if you are that old and still doing the AMWC (he has participated in over 20 of the races) you don't have to follow the same rules as the other guys! So he and his friend Jerry floated the whole thing, down the 40 mile and the Yukon rivers. They had to be alert on the 40 mile, as there were several rapids and even a few pour offs that needed to be portaged. Then, when they hit the Yukon, they pulled out into the middle of the smooth flowing river and slept! By this time, after having to be alert in a tiny, leaky, five pound rubber raft for 12 hours a day, they needed the sleep.

It will be my grandfathers last wilderness race, and running most of it in the pack raft that he introduced to the race over 25 years ago is a fitting end. That year, no one had heard of these rafts and had planned on swimming the big rivers. One person had almost drowned trying when this old white haired man came up, dropped his pack, pulled out his hidden rubber raft, duck taped some plastic paddles to what looked like a walking stick, put on a viking hat, and announced "old age and treachery overcome youth and skill any time!"

Ugly Feet!