I had no idea what the course would be like either, and thought I would be able to skate it too. But experience has taught me to have no expectations. You can train anywhere in the world, prepare for everything and still when you come to Alaska you feel green.

Luckily I brought kick wax but I had only classic skied a couple of times in my life before this race. By the end of it, I had classic skied at least 50 miles, hiked 15, and skated 35.

When the Finns turned around it put Iditasport bike veteran Pat Norwil and Dylan Kentch, a 17-year-old phenom from Anchorage, in the lead, and me into 3rd.

This was the beginning of the hardest section of trail, an eight-mile climb up to the source of Matsuma creek. Bull came past me on a snowmachine after he had gone to the top to place "tokens," which each racer had to retrieve in order to prove they went all the way to the top. He said it was a "little bit windy" the last three miles. Hearing that from Dan I knew that meant gale force.

I hiked the first few miles as they were way too steep to ski. Then it started to get punchy and I saw the tracks of Pat and Dylan start to post hole. I pulled out my climbing skins which I had cut down to fit just under the kick zone, and glided right on top of the snow. I had a clear advantage over the other two and knew I could make up some time.

Three miles from the top I came up over a rise and was blown backward by a -50 windchill. I turned around and retreated out of the wind, just 50 yards back where it was a nice calm, comfortable -2º. I thought it would be a good idea to get everything set for a push to the top and not have to stop in the wind so I put a fresh battery in my light, moved some food within easy reach and put on my DAS parka, wind hat and face mask. I leaned into the wind and shuffled along on my skis.

At the top, Pat and Dylan were just getting situated for the trip back down. I had caught them. I grabbed my plastic knife, the "official token" proving I made it to the top. All three of us were in relief that the wind would now be at our backs for the long descent.

It didn't look like much, but on 150 cm short skate skis the trip back down in the dark was totally out of control. I wanted to go fast, but with minimal light and almost nothing marking the trail it proved difficult. In the first mile we all crashed half a dozen times. I had one really bad one, where one ski went just inches off the trail, stopped and I sailed headfirst into snow-covered rocks.

The really scary part was looking out for overflow, glare ice that sits on top of creeks; you can't see it until it's too late and then you just pray. I made it over one patch and then from behind I heard a loud thump and the sound of all the air rapidly leaving someone's lungs. Pat wrecked on the ice (after the race he had a bruise the size of a football on his side). He's lucky he didn't break ribs.

After a few more episodes like that we got to the really steep part and we all decided to walk down. Almost at the bottom we got back on our skis and promptly took turns crashing as the trail is only a few feet wide and there is just no way to snowplow and keep the speed down. It's kind of funny to watch someone go. They start out fine, in control, then they pick up a little too much speed, they start to snowplow harder, they still can't hold on, the swerving starts, then they rock back and forth, until you see them lose it to one side and then it's full yard sale. And when it's below zero, getting snow down your back and in your face is completely demoralizing.

We filled our bladders with water at the next checkpoint and continued on. We made good time on the slight downgrade, with Pat and Dylan skating off ahead of me; they were far stronger skiers and anytime the track was wide enough to skate they pulled ahead. I caught them at the checkpoint, and again we filled up with water and headed out together up the three-mile Hicks Creek climb. Once on top it was a very slight downgrade for the next six miles and then a 1000-feet-in-a-mile plunge.

I tried to ski the plunge but came around a corner and saw nothing but empty space in front of me, and instantly bailed to the inside. I looked over the edge, and we all decided to hike down the rest of the way. At the bottom turn around point our "token" was a vanilla wafer which seemed like an odd choice to use food as a marker in the middle of wolf county.

We put our heads down, picked up our skis and hiked back up to the top. Once above treeline, the wind picked up and was right in our faces. We stopped and chatted with Reifenstuhl when we passed him going the other way. The great part of out and back race courses is that you get to run into the competition, conversations are pretty short lived though as it gets cold extremely fast once you stop moving.

At the last checkpoint, we had only 22 miles to go. Bull was there and declared, "No ties!" I didn't really care, I was just there to have fun, and happy to be at the front. Dylan was very excited to race to the finish; he really wanted to win.

Those two skated off down the river and disappeared out of sight ahead of me. I figured the race was over and I knew Pat wouldn't let a 17-year-old win.

I came to a section of overflow on Squaw Creek and took of my skis to hike through about two feet of water. On the other side I had to pull out a knife and chip away the ice from the bottom of my boot so I could get it back in the ski binding.

I had finally gotten my kick wax just right and was making good time when I saw the tracks ahead of me, one person was skiing the uphills and the other was walking. By the size of the footprints it looked like Dylan was walking. Maybe I can catch him I thought. I really picked up the pace and went as fast as I could, which isn't very fast at the 29-hour mark.

I entered a clearing and finally saw him at the top of steep climb. There were two bikers halfway up who had turned around early and were headed back. I caught up to them and they said the next skier was 15 minutes ahead of me and that Pat was in the lead by 20 minutes.

I pushed all the way to the end and finished in 31 hours, 20 min, nine minutes behind Dylan and 48 minutes behind the winner, Pat Norwil.

Nine people made it around the whole course. Steve Reifenstuhl won the foot division and was 4th overall. Not one person finished on bike, a new record for Iditasport.

Bull wasn't exaggerating. This was the hardest Iditasport. And for me it was the most fun I've ever had in the snow.

— John Stamstad, MountainZone.com Correspondent