Getting There is Half the Fun

My 2017-2018 racing season started at 6 am, Thanksgiving morning, in a cold parking lot, under a pitch black sky, with snow beneath my feet. My team and I were set to drive to Whitehorse, Canada for our first camp of the year, and our journey to get there was supposed to be a simple fourteen hour ride in a van. About three hours in, however, as my friends and I slept peacefully in the back row, that plan changed. We woke to find ourselves stuck at the side of the road, hours away from civilization, in chilly negative 12 degree temperatures, with a broken transmission.  In the spirit of the season, though, luck smiled on us.  Although seemingly miles from nowhere, we had only recently passed a small jumble of buildings, including a gas station, a church, and to our relief, a garage. Hoping to still make it to Whitehorse that night, our coaches immediately started working with the mechanic on fixing the van, but to no avail. As if frozen by the bitter temperatures, time seemed to stand still.  Soon we'd passed three hours sitting on a cement floor, without food or drink, or any luck with repairs. It became apparent that if our trip was to continue, we would need a different van.  Luck, yet again, favored us. My coach Kieffer Christianson's girlfriend offered to drive a replacement van to where we were, in the middle of nowhere; an offer we quickly accepted. As we waited for the van to arrive, our stomachs growled and we fantasized about home - the people, the comfort, and most especially the food!  Hours later, as the day started to fade,  our new van arrived, we loaded up for the second time in the last twelve hours, and set off.  Fourteen hours after we left Anchorage, we pulled into Tok, a small town right outside the Alaska-Canada border, exhausted and barely half-way to our destination.  We stayed the night in a run-down motel, and had a Thanksgiving feast of candy, chocolate, and Cheesits from motel vending machines because every restaurant and grocery store was closed for the holiday. We arose early the next day, and grabbed food for the long drive ahead. We thought we were out of the woods now, but oh, were we wrong; after another four hours driving, we stopped for a short break, only to discover that our oil had been leaking for the whole trip, and we were pretty much out. After another two hours of us sitting in our broken van, our coach returned with a supply of oil, and we were back on the road. At around 9pm, the Alyeska Ski Club rolled into Whitehorse on fumes, dripping fuel like Hansel and Gretel dropping bread crumbs. Over the following 9 days, I trained (and swam) in some of the coldest temperatures I have ever experienced; at one point it dipped to negative 42.  Hard plastic ski boots just get harder and certainly no warmer in those kinds of temperatures and become almost impossible to get off!  It took some determination for us to make it to this camp, and even more determination to face that cold every day, but it was worth it and I came away with some great memories!



Starting the 15 minute ride in -30 degrees; Mt. Sima, Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, Canada
 

Takhini Hot Springs; Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, Canada