Jon Keill gestures to one of his team mates ahead during the Fireweed 200 relay race on Saturday. Photo by Jeremia Schrock/Sun Star

By Jeremia Schrock

Sun Star Reporter

The Sun Star’s Jeremia Schrock reports on location as a team of UAF students competes in the Fireweed 200 bicycle race.

Team Killasaurus Wrecks left Glennallen at 12:30 PM. We reached the Tok-Valdez crossroads when Bippy spoke, “I hope Jon went the right way.”

“What?” Swibold asked.

“I hope he [went] the right way,” Bippy responded seriously. “Because if he didn’t, he’s going to Tok.”

Thankfully for the team, Keill had gone the right way. By the time we caught up to him, he’d gone more than six miles. As we drove passed Bippy shouted, “Jon, you’re a beast!” Keill looked up at her as we sped by and Bippy laughed, “I’ve seen that look before!”

“What look was that?” I asked.

“The ‘Oh, screw you guys’ look.”

When Keill and Bippy switched off, Keill lounged in the backseat. I asked him how he was feeling now that the team was halfway through the race. “Tired,” he responded, “My ass is feeling tired, too.”

Swibold chimed in, “My ass is sore, not tired.”

“Sore, tired. Same diff,” replied Keill testily.

A few moments later Swibold spoke up again. “I’m actually not looking forward to my next run,” he said. Keill was also starting to feel the effects of the race. As we left the official aid station at Grizzly Pizza and Gifts, Keill suffered a cramp just trying to hoist himself into the backseat of his car. By this point, they had barely reached the half-way mark.

As the hours continued to tick by, the rest time between runs began to increase dramatically. The terrain and a strong headwind were partially to blame, but by 4:00 p.m. the length of the day had begun to take its toll. As one particularly harsh gust blew past us in the car, Bippy shouted “Oh, eff you wind! Why can’t you go the other way?”

It wasn’t just the wind taking its toll on the team, but also fellow racers. Keill was racing on a mountain bike, something many racing aficionados look down upon. “I’ve gotten everything from ‘you’re hardcore’ to a sarcastic ‘good luck with that,’” Keill said. He wasn’t angry so much as annoyed. At least he was out here biking at all, he said.

5:30 rolled around and the team was forced to alter their line-up. Bippy’s left knee was swollen, which meant the team was down to just Keill and Swibold. Both remained determined, however, and were rewarded when Keill was granted a second wind. He’d biked a 5-mile stretch of hills in only 20 minutes, a feat which thoroughly impressed Bippy. Lady GaGa’s “Monster” was playing on the stereo as he arrived, and a tired Bippy directed the words at him, “That boy is a monster,” she said.

Jesse Swibold rides along the Glenn Highway during an early stretch of the Fireweed 200.

By 5:53, however, Swibold remained the teams only energetic member.

“I don’t know how much left I have in me,” Keill said. “My reserves are depleted.” At 6:00, the team spoke to a race official just outside of Thompson Pass, where the Richardson Highway ascends almost 3,000 feet in order to overcome the Chugach Mountains). The team wanted to know what the weather conditions were in the pass and if biking was still feasible.

“The pass is wet and windy,” replied the official. “Like usual.” Keill and I exchanged looks and he nodded. Team Killasaurus Wrecks was going to scratch.

Swibold wanted to keep going, but Bippy and Keill were simply exhausted. Bippy’s knee remained swollen and Keill was having a difficult time walking.

“We made it two-thirds of the way,” Keill said. “And that’s something.”

“If it hadn’t been for the weather we would have made it,” Bippy said. “It was fun until the wind got so bad that I lost control of my bike.” Swibold wanted to persevere and the team decided to let him bike the last 4 miles to Tiekel Lodge (the last checkpoint before Valdez). The team officially scratched 134.5 miles into the 193.9 mile-long race. Team Killasaurus Wrecks was now officially extinct.

For the team, the drive into Valdez was a mixture of exhausted napping and euphoric delight at being done. Even if they had failed to make it to Valdez on their bikes, they would still get there by car. Their consolation prizes: food, warmth and a long night’s rest.

By Jeremia Schrock

Sun Star Reporter

The Sun Star’s Jeremia Schrock reports on location as a team of UAF students competes in the Fireweed 200 bicycle race.

The team was up before their alarms rang with the screeching tones of morning. They had slept for less than 5 hours, and were about to embark on a grueling 14 to 16 hour bike race. It was, without a doubt, going to be a long day for team Killasaurus Wrecks.

The weather was cold and partly cloudy, the perfect conditions for biking. If it were too hot outside, the team would run the risk of overheating and becoming rapidly dehydrated. “It’s cool, not warm,” Kennicker said. “Because once you get going, you’re going to heat up (fast).”

The team decided to go for the early 6:30 a.m. start, and Swibold volunteered to go first. After Swibold took off down the chute, the team and I piled into Keill’s Kia and drove 7 miles down the Glenn Highway to the Heck Monument (named for a state trooper killed in the area). There we would meet up with Swibold and Keill would switch off with him. The relay had officially begun.

One mile in, I spotted a sign that read “Rough Road.” I pointed it out to Bippy and asked, “Does that sum up the race?”

“I think that ‘Rough Road’ can describe all of it, and not just the physical,” she said.

We picked up Swibold and Keill set off. Keill took the team 8.5 miles farther down the road to Valdez. We picked him up at the Eureka Lodge and Bippy took it from there. Swibold was driving now. As I rode shotgun, I asked him how he felt after his first relay. “Light-headed, but only slightly. I’m getting better,” Swibold said.

A half hour later, I asked Bippy if she was feeling any better about the relay. “I’m a little tired, but the nervous feeling I felt in my gut is gone. Now that I’ve done [my first leg of the relay] I feel much better.”

Keill secured Bippy’s bike to the back of his car and gestured down the road. “Let’s mosey,” he said. “Let’s mosey at high speeds.” Keill grinned mischievously.

The team was 40 miles in and it was now 9:35 in the morning. Everyone had gone twice, Bippy was currently biking, and Swibold was contemplating the heat. He asked Keill what he thought he could do to stay cooler.

“Jesse, it’s okay!” said Keill. “You can take your pants off (and put on shorts). No one will see!”  Swibold started to change when Bippy appeared around a bend in the road. Swibold let out a shout of surprise and quickly pulled his pants back up.

By 10:26 the team had reached the quarter mark of the race. Less then an hour later Keill’s worst fears were confirmed when a boy no older then 13 peddled by. “We’re being beaten by a 12 year old,” he said, sadly.

Moments later, Bippy began to vent some frustration about the track. “God, the road is crap! It’s not smooth, and if you have any tread on your tires…” she paused, “It’s like being in a bog.”

I asked her what she meant.

“Because you’re trying to get momentum to go up a hill and if you’re sticking to the road that doesn’t happen. It’s like running in sand. You have to work a lot harder.”

We saw Swibold approach. Keill was rolling his bike up into position when Swibold called down to him, “Do you want me to keep going? I feel fine!”

“If you want to,” Keill replied. “It’s eight more miles to Glennallen!” Swibold just waved and took off.

“We’ll see you in Glennallen!” Keill and I shouted after him.

Thirty minutes later we arrived in Glennallen, the unofficial halfway point to Valdez. It’s considered “unofficial” primarily because it’s the only major town between Sheep Mountain and Valdez (if one takes the Glenn Highway), but is not the actual half-way point. The real 100-mile mark is actually close to 35 miles south of Glennallen. There was no need to tell the team that, however.

“Holy crap, we made it!” Bippy said, obviously relieved.

Ten minutes later Keill was off and, after gassing up, we set off after him.

By Jeremia Schrock

Sun Star Reporter

The Sun Star’s Jeremia Schrock reports on location as a team of UAF students competes in the Fireweed 200 bicycle race.

Yesterday’s overcast and windy conditions gave way to today’s blue skies and sun. The weather in Anchorage was promising, but that would mean little if the weather on Sheep Mountain weren’t.   At noon team Killasaurus Wrecks assembled their gear into the living room of Bippy’s house and a shout erupted from the kitchen:

“Dad!” It was Bippy’s voice, but her father wasn’t there. Her father, Mark Kennicker, was also competing in the Fireweed 200, but he had already left for Sheep Mountain.

Keill was swearing. I felt like I had missed half the conversation so I asked the team what had happened.

“Our bikes are in the garage,” said Swibold. “The garage is locked.”

Bippy stormed past me, cursing aloud. “I should have known better!” she shouted. “I should have been more diligent.” Her role as team captain was no doubt proving to be stressful. The team was granted relief minutes later Bippy discovered the garage door opener. “Oh, thank god,” she said.

I asked the team how they felt about the race the following morning. Both Bippy and Keill were nervous, but Swibold was, “excited. There’s nothing to be worried about, so I’m not worried. We’re [going to be] on a major highway, so all we have to worry about is car safety.”

Keill, who swam for Lathrop High School and was a member of their 2003 state championship team, credited his past as a swimmer for preparing him for the race. “I used to be a distance swimmer, so I think through the pain. I say to myself ‘just keep going, just keep going, just keep going’ and then I’m fine.”

The team left Anchorage in the early afternoon. By 4:15 PM we were heading east down the Glenn Highway. I asked them if they felt any different about the approaching race. “Still excited,” said Swibold, who was actively massaging Bippy’s shoulders from the back seat. “Thinking about the boredom of the car rides and what I’ll do to amuse myself.” He smiled, “I’ll probably just massage Bippy’s shoulders!”

Both Keill and Bippy both felt less worried. “Now that we’re on the road and actually heading there I feel better” said Keill. I asked everyone if they had any plans to celebrate after they finished.

“Go eat dinner and then fall asleep,” Bippy half-jokingly and then in full seriousness, “I don’t know what we’re gonna do to celebrate.”

Swibold (17) chimed in, “You guys could go to a bar and just drop me off somewhere.”  Keill cursed at the idea, before Bippy responded, “the last thing I want to do while I’m dehydrated is to go drinking!”

We arrived at Sheep Mountain at 5:30 PM. The team set up their tent and lounged around before heading down to the Sheep Mountain Lodge for a quick dinner. Afterward, Keill and Bippy relaxed in the tent, reading and listening to music. Swibold checked his bike and filled his Camelback (a specially designed backpack for holding water). Everyone had to be up by 5:15 the following morning and as anyone who has done anything important early in the morning knows: morning comes swiftly and with a vengeance.

By Jeremia Schrock

Sun Star Reporter

The Sun Star’s Jeremia Schrock reports on location as a team of UAF students competes in the Fireweed 200 bicycle race.

Terri Donaldson, Bippy’s mother, has no concerns when it comes to her daughters involvement in the race. “I know she’s done it a couple of years with her dad, but now she’s branching out on her own. She’s very resourceful. I mean I let her head to Japan on her own! At least this time I know she’s in the same state!”

By the time noon rolled around, a very tired and worn Killasaurus Wrecks found itself at the pre-race registration and orientation at Kincaid Park in Anchorage. What surprised the team most was how young they were compared to most other participants. The orientation was attended primarily by the middle-aged, followed by young families with children.

“Most people who do [the race] do it for the fun,” said Kennicker. “Like parents with their 12-year-old kids.”

Keill pretended to be annoyed by Kennicker’s comment. “I will not stand to be beaten by a bunch of 12-year-olds!” Keill joked.

The orientation, hosted by race director Peter Lekisch, was essentially a safety meeting for participants. The team, especially Keill, was frustrated by the announcement that that there was to be no listening to portable music devices while biking. Keill, who says listening to music while he bikes keeps him sane, was visibly disturbed. Prior to the proclamation, Keill was leaning forward, resting his head upon a closed fist. His eyes closed. When he heard he wouldn’t be allowed to use his iPod, Keill sat upright, his full attention being given to the front of the room.

“I should have slept through that meeting,” Keill said. “It would have been a nice little power nap.”

By the time Killasaurus Wrecks made it’s way outside, the sky was gray and overcast. A strong wind had picked up across Kincaid Park. The dozen or so bikes that were locked to their racks visibly rattled. If the weather now was any indication, things were not boding well for the team.

By Jeremia Schrock

Sun Star Reporter

The Sun Star’s Jeremia Schrock reports on location as a team of UAF students competes in the Fireweed 200 bicycle race.

This weekend will see a team of three UAF students compete in the Fireweed 200 bicycle race, an annual competition that sees its participants bike from Sheep Mountain (on the Glenn Highway) to Valdez over the course of 12-16 hours. However, for two of the three members of Killasaurus Wrecks, the adventure began two days before in Fairbanks, AK.

“I forgot my shoes,” said Jonathan Keill, a curly-haired senior who works out of the Geography Department.

“What?” responds Jesse Swibold, a first-year freshman in Japanese Studies.

“My biking shoes,” Keill says, holding up his leg, revealing a pair of black and white Converses. “I do not want to bike in these.” It was 8:30 PM, Wednesday night, and we were still stuck in Fairbanks.

We hit the Parks Highway at 9:14 PM and I asked both Keill and Swibold why they were biking the Fireweed 200. “Well, Bippy [UAF graduate Brenna Kennicker] did it last summer and said that we should do it together,” said Keill. “So, I said ‘Hey, that sounds like fun!’ It’s also something different that I’ve never done before.”

Swibold agreed, adding that, “I’ve never been on any bike race before.”

Keill popped a Japanese music CD into his car’s audio player before looking around at the passing scenery outside. “This is boding very well,” he said, watching as the suns rays danced across the tops of trees. “I like this.”

I asked the guys how they would describe their team.  Keill answered with “Awesome” and then laughed. “I think we’re very solid for what we’re going to do. Jesse’s the [groups] strong, silent one.”

Keill glanced back at Swibold who smiled and said, “Yeah, what he said.”

“Bippy…” Keill paused. “Why would I, on first go, [describe her as the groups] ‘raging female?’ I don’t know!” He paused again, “[she's] our fearless leader. And I’m the athletic one!”

As for the team’s name, Killasaurus Wrecks, “I think Bippy came up with it,” said Keill. The name, as it turns out, has it’s origins in the gang’s Rock Band band. “We couldn’t decide on a name, so we had the game’s random name generator pick a name. It chose ‘Killasaurus Oranges’ so we altered it to ‘Killasaurus Wrecks.’”   I spoke to Bippy later on about the name.

“The ‘Wrecks’ is supposed to be ironic! You know, since we’re biking!” Bippy said.

You can see more details about the Fireweed 200 course here.

By Reba Lean
Sun Star Reporter

In the last three years, the UAF women’s basketball team has seen three different coaches come and go. After losing Darryl Smith in Spring 2008, the athletic department hired Dave Thompson as an interim head coach. Thompson came from the local Hutchison High School where he coached the boys’ basketball team for five years. Now, UAF has narrowed down two candidates for a permanent head-coaching job with experiences and backgrounds that are polar opposites.

Joe Waggoner of the GVEA Shockers prepares to throw the ball during the 2010 annual American Heart Association dodgeball tournament at the UAF Patty Center on Saturday. Photo by Angela Milliron/The Sun Star

By Angela Milliron
Sun Star Contributor

Supporting a good cause feels great. For players in the American Heart Association’s annual dodgeball tournament, supporting a great cause was slightly painful. This year, 20 teams from all over Fairbanks entered Saturday’s double elimination dodgeball tournament ready and willing to feel the pain.

In previous years, the tournament was held at various public schools around the community. This year the event was hosted by UAF’s Athletics and Facility Services departments and held at the Student Recreation Center. It was an opportunity that the SRC’s facility manager, Eric Ofelt, was excited to have. “I think it’s good for an institution like this to give back to a community that supports us. UAF is all about the future and curing heart diseases is about the future too,” he said.

Dodgeball is a fast-paced game of quick reaction. The objective is for each team to eliminate all members of the opposing team by hitting them with balls, catching the balls they throw, or forcing them to move outside the court boundaries when a ball is thrown at them.

Skier Petr Kakes skates off of the "Tit" at the top of the race course to meet up with his snowmachine partner Todd Palin. Photo by Nina Schwinghammer/The Sun Star

By Tom Hewitt
Sun Star Reporter

Driving to Arctic Man at night, signs of the event appear long before the Hoodoo Mountains come into view. RVs and trucks pulling snowmachine trailers form southbound caravans, and impromptu camps spring up in the pullouts along the Richardson Highway. As the Summit Lake valley comes into view, the winking headlights of packs of machines dot the mountainside, bobbing up and down as their drivers navigate the landscape.

It’s a serenely beautiful sight, and one that belies the entire rest of the spectacle that is the Arctic Man Ski & Sno-Go Classic.

The event, built around an adrenaline-fueled race in which skiers and snowboarders are towed down a mountain course behind snowmachines at speeds approaching 90 miles per hour, celebrated its 25th annual running last weekend. Thousands of outdoor enthusiasts, snowmachine fanatics, and all-purpose partygoers were on hand to watch the race and join in the festivities.

It was the rookie year for Nathan Adamczak and Brian Buechler, a pair of UAF-affiliated racers who decided to get in on the action after several years watching from the sidelines. Adamczak, a civil engineering major, was the team’s driver. Buechler, a senior engineer with the Geophysical Institute’s Alaska Satellite Facility, dug out a well-worn pair of Atomic skis for the occasion.

To prepare for the kind of speeds they would experience in the race, Adamczak and Buechler held training runs on the Chena River. “It went pretty well,” Buechler said as the pair unwound at the Pub after a run in early March. “I’m pretty sure we hit 86 or 87 miles per hour, but the GPS crapped out at around 82 and stopped giving us readings.”

Though Arctic Man began as a $100 bar bet between friends, it has grown exponentially in the quarter century of its existence. Upwards of 10,000 people now make the pilgrimage to the Hoodoos on

the second weekend of April. Concrete attendance numbers are nearly impossible to calculate, largely due to the fact that many snowmachiners “commute” to the event from Summit Lake and other nearby areas unconnected to the official Arctic Man camping area. The event’s website put last year’s population at “approximately 13,000,” and this year saw similar numbers according to event organizers. Whatever the spectator count, one oft-repeated Arctic Man factoid is undeniably true: for one weekend each April, the mass of tents, trucks, and recreational vehicles is effectively the fourth-largest city in Alaska.

For the average attendee, Arctic Man is more party than race, and by Thursday night, twelve hours before the snowmachiners and skiers took to the course, the festivities were in full swing. At a pad half a mile from Racers’ Row, a group of UAF engineering students and alumni mingled with members of the Happy Boy Racing team who had come in support of racers James and Wade Binkley, Luke Smith, and Ryan Twitchell.

With four campsites, three bonfires, a sound system blasting AC/DC, and an LCD projector playing vintage ski movies, the party raged long into the night. “So I hear there’s some kind of a race tomorrow?” joked senior business major Jonathan Bradish as the speakers bumped Katy Perry’s “I Kissed A Girl” and Simon Mangold poured motor oil onto the bonfire, sending flames 12 feet high above the projector screen.

The next morning, spectators lined the course, clustering in strategic locations. On the lower course, much of the action centered around First Aid, a steep downhill just past the point at which skiers and snowboarders slingshot loose from their tow. The combination of torque from the release and the steep downhill make the site the most perilous area of the course and help explain its name.

Grad student Annie Hooper, a friend of Adamczak and Buechler, stood anxiously at the top of First Aid with fiancé and rifle standout Patrik Sartz. “They told us to spread out all over the course,” Hooper said as she awaited the team’s run. “I just hope Brian doesn’t get hurt,” she said, looking down the mountain with concern.

More than 50 teams competed in the race, which saw clear skies and warm weather contribute to a fast, hard track. As racers hurtled down the course, they were often followed by a helicopter capturing footage for a National Geographic Channel special.

The speedy conditions led fans to speculate that this would be the year a team would break the four-minute barrier that has stood since the race began, but it was not to be. Scott Macartney and Tyson Johnson won their third title and $25,000 with a time of 4:04.85 in the main event. Adamczak and Buechler finished nearly a minute back with an unofficial time of just over five minutes earning them 21st place out of a total of 27 teams that finished the race. Mercifully, First Aid did not live up to its billing, as it saw a few spectacular wipeouts but no serious injuries.

The party reached new levels Friday night, as racers still riding adrenaline highs joined their friends and well-wishers in the packed beer tent. A cover band belted out rock standards as race fans packed in shoulder-to-shoulder, drinking and discussing the day’s events. On the dance floor, the Happy Boy contingent monopolized both the prime real estate and the attention of a few dozen good-looking young women as they celebrated a top-10 finish by James Binkley and Luke Smith. Bedecked in mullets and outrageous one-piece snowsuits, the Happy Boys outlasted the band before stumbling back to their campsite, where they rejoined the engineers, continued the dance party, and put the torch to their thrift-store couches.

The next morning, Buechler sat in a rented motorhome as he reflected on his team’s performance. Having captured video footage from training and the race itself, he planned to edit a package together to shop to sponsors in hopes of securing better equipment for next year’s race. He wasn’t disappointed in the team’s showing, he said, but he was already looking to the future. “We’re going to do better next year,” he said. “We’re going to do a lot better.”

Billy Galligan delivers a stone Friday night in the International Bonspiel at the Fairbanks Curling Club. Photo by Erin Widby/The Sun Star

By Tom Hewitt
Sun Star Reporter

Matt Birklid flailed wildly with his kitchen broom Friday night at the curling club as he mimed the chords of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.” In 45 hours he would be playing for the championship of Fairbanks’ 75^th International Bonspiel, but as he shredded along to Freddie Mercury’s vocals with his band “House of Air,” Birklid was more concerned with keeping the crowd dancing. It was just another night at one of Fairbanks’ biggest and oldest sporting events, a curling tournament that combines sport and party in equal measure.

Though the sport maintains a relatively low profile, curling is the oldest organized sport in Fairbanks.  Members established the curling club in 1905, only two years after the town’s founding, and this year’s International Bonspiel is the 75^th for the club. The bonspiel trophy displays the American and Canadian flags as they existed when the event began – with a 48-star American flag and a Canadian Union Flag.

Shuffleboard and Eight-Dimensional Chess

Asked to describe the sport in less than 30 seconds, curler and longtime youth coach Bill Gryder said, “I would end up resorting to the analogy of shuffleboard on ice, with the addition of sweeping, which I think really sets curling apart.”

Each curling team has four members, who each throw two 42-pound granite rocks down the length of a 150-foot sheet of ice in an attempt to place their stones closest to the center of a 12-foot circle at the far end.  After all the rocks have been thrown, the “end” (like an inning in baseball) is scored, and the curlers start over. Curling games typically have eight ends, though matches may be shorter if a team decides to concede early or longer if the score is tied at the end of the eighth end.

By Reba Lean
Sun Star Reporter

An athletic department request for $260,000 to help cover athletic teams’ travel expenses made it into the Board of Regent’s budget this year, and then went no further. Its next stop would have been the governor’s proposed budget to the legislature, but the request was not picked up by the governor.

The $260,000 request was only meant as a last resort. Athletic Director Forrest Karr admitted that he “was hoping, but not expecting,” that it would make it to the legislature. UA Spokeswoman Kate Ripley says that since the request didn’t make it into the governor’s proposal, “the university has had little to no opportunity to talk to legislators about it.”