Trans Iowa Stories: Feeling Low - Part 2

Good ol' Craig Cooper! He had the shop open before the start of T.I.v8.

 "Trans Iowa Stories" is an every Sunday post which helps tell the stories behind the event. You can check out other posts about this subject by going back to earlier Sunday posts on this blog. Thanks and enjoy!

This time we join the story at the beginning of Trans Iowa v8.

The alarm didn't have to go off. I was sneaking peeks at the clock for about the last 45 minutes as I lay in my bed listening to the rain and wind hitting the Comfort Inn and Suites building. I was figuring that this was going to be one of those Trans Iowas. We'd get started, but folks wouldn't make the checkpoints, the weather would be too wild, and "the Trans Iowa would not let you pass", as Tim Ek used to say about the event.

Tim wasn't at this one though. Nope. He had a wedding he had to attend, but he strictly told me that I must look after Charlie Farrow. The previous year, at T.I.v7, I guess things were pretty tough out there and Tim was concerned for his friend being at another T.I. without his wing man. Good friends look out for each other. I understood that and promised that I'd keep an eye out for Charlie's well being during the event. But really......what could I do? I was overwhelmed with concerns. This was the Trans Iowa that would define me, the one I staked everything on, all the chips were in. If I let anyone down, or failed at any one detail, I was going to take it very hard this time. This was all on me. Charlie? He'd be okay, right? He managed his own affairs and finished T.I.v5 after a rough go. I wasn't going to worry about him.

I climbed into my truck and with all my belongings, race stuff, food, and drink for the next 30+ hours, I was off toward downtown Grinnell. I won't kid you, I was pretty nervous. The weather sucked, and I was racing through my mind trying to make sure I didn't have any loose ends. But really, it was too late. This train was rolling now. There was no stopping it.

I wrote the following in my post-event report after T.I.v8:

"A couple things always strike me at the start of Trans Iowa. First- The moment of the start, for me at least, is much like the start of a sled ride. The moment when you feel gravity clawing at the sled and you know that any sense of control is quickly slipping away as the snow and gravitational pull send you flying downwards. It is exciting, and you know that the moments that are coming in the next 34 hours are going to make for one thrilling, crazy, out of control ride.
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All I can do is ride herd best that I can and pray that all goes well. The ducks on my end were all in a row, but there are so many things happening over miles and miles of Iowa gravel roads that I would be foolish to even think I could be in control over them. Trans Iowa is something that gains a life of its own in that time."

The first of several Wally Kilburg start line images. Just before the wet start of T.I.v8 here.

 Well, things slipped off down that steep hill right on time, and off I went into the darkness. Behind me, 67 riders struggled North, then Eastward, into an ever increasing gale of 25+mph wind. It was only in the low 40's, and the gravel was a mess. I couldn't imagine much worse conditions for the riders to start out in. There was no where to hide in that first sector to the first Level B Road about 29 miles into the event. 

I stopped a couple of times, made a few "Trans Iowa Radio" posts, and then I parked my truck alongside County V-18 at the entrance to the muddy mess of 370th Street. I figured I'd better wait there to get a feel for how fast the riders were going. 29 miles in meant that they should be there around 6:00am, maybe 6:30am, at least for the fast guys. 

That black smudge in the road is the lead pack coming toward me during T.I.v8

They were closer to the 6:30am time, going about what I figured was 12 miles an hour average. Wow...... That was slow for the leaders. I was heartbroken. See, the checkpoint they had to reach closed at 9:30am and was 50+ miles into the course. They had over 20 miles to go, and yes, the leaders would surely make that, but what about the rest? Uggh...... This was looking like T.I.v6 where a bunch of the field never made the first checkpoint. This Level B road was a walker too. No riding that quagmire! That would slow them further. 

I had worked so hard that I wanted more riders to see what I had cooked up for them, but ya know.....sometimes things don't go as planned. I was down. Real down. I was also colder than hell. I'd been out of the truck several times peering into the mists and the wind was relentless. The wind chill must have been into the low 20's, and with all the moisture, it was hard to keep any heat in my body. I had been running the heater on the truck and trying to unfreeze when Wally and George showed up and told me I'd better get on up the road. They were going to stick around and take images for a while at the Level B Road. I gladly bid them adieu, and safely ensconced in my heated cab, I went on my way checking the course into Checkpoint Alpha. 

Later, Wally told me the story of a strange encounter he had at that Level B on 370th Street that morning of Trans Iowa v8. It concerned a certain individual who was to go on to become a figure of legend concerning an event he had started a few years prior to T.I.v8. I had seen him at the pre-race, but I had no idea who he was. See, I had been hobnobbing with those folks I knew, and since the check in table was ably manned and run by Brent Irish, a stellar Trans Iowa volunteer for a few years, I had not met this strange fellow yet. He had a beard and a dashing coonskin cap on. He wasn't very talkative, as I remember, and pretty much kept to himself. I didn't put his face to a name until I called it out at the bag pick up at the end of the evening. 

Lead pack rolling into Checkpoint Alpha during T.I.v8

Well, it was Chris Skogen, of Almanzo 100 fame. I never saw him after that meeting during the event, but Wally said this fellow rolled up on him in the midst of all the Level B Road madness, whipped out a cigarette, and lit up.  Like a high society suitor at a muddy debutante ball, Skogen blithely proclaimed his views on the day between wafts of smoke and waves of his hand. Wally was a bit taken aback, and later had asked me what was up with this dude. Well, Chris DNF'ed there, went home, and that was the last we ever saw of him at Trans Iowa. So, I cannot answer that question. But it was just another one of those odd Trans Iowa stories many people never knew about. 

Back at the Checkpoint Alpha, I was glad to see my volunteer corps ready and waiting for those first bodies through the small town we were set up in. Interestingly, these first checkpoints were generally in small towns and villages. We'd be around from 6;30am onward to about 10:00 am, and never asked anyone's permission to be there. I always figured that we'd be there and gone before anyone noticed we were there. I always used public places, so we weren't encroaching on private property, and usually, The Law was the county sheriff, who had bigger fish to fry on an early Saturday morning.  There were a few times that we attracted attention, but it was never, ever a problem. 

As it turned out, for this version of Trans Iowa, we were pretty much right in the middle of the street! It all worked like a fine oiled machine though. I noted the early arrivals and made plans for a quick edition of "Trans Iowa Radio", then I hightailed it outta there. Checkpoint Alpha wouldn't close for a bit, and I was worried what the outcome would be, but resigned to the fact that at least some riders were still in it. 

Then the time passed for the checkpoint to close. I always instructed my checkpoint leader to call me with numbers and DNF's so I could get my master roster list updated. That year my CP#1 leader was Brent Irish, and he being a military guy, was right on point. The checkpoint had no sooner closed than he was on the horn to me with my information. What he said was astounding to me. We had 55 people pass the checkpoint out of 67 starters. A new Trans Iowa record at the time. I was incredulous, and I think I insulted Brent a bit due to my initial shock and unbelief. But it was real, he assured me, and knowing Brent, I knew this was the truth. Wow!

I hung up with a renewed sense of excitement after that call. I was happy. Things were running like clockwork. There were no issues, and we had a ton of riders still going for it. But, there were many miles and many hours to go. I couldn't celebrate just yet. But if you could have seen me in my truck just then, I'm sure I was sporting a big ol' smile as I drove on Southward.

Next: Charlie! Where Art Thou?