Smoke 'n' Fire 2024 Race Report

"Good decisions come from experience. Experience comes from making bad decisions."

This story begins two years ago. It’s the summer of 2022 and I’m becoming seduced by the sport of ultra cycling. My gateway drug was following that year’s Transcontinental Race, a self-supported bikepacking race across Europe. The simplicity (ride a really long way completely under one’s own power) combined with complexity (gear, strategy, sleeping, fueling navigation) was alluring as someone pretty burned out on traditional road and gravel racing. Some Googling led me to discover a pretty big race right in my backyard: the Idaho Smoke ‘n’ Fire.

I cobbled some gear together and signed up, but a big wildfire broke out just days before the start (a common thing this time of year, and the reason for the race’s namesake) and so was changed to an out and back north of Boise. It wasn’t meant to be for my first ultra racing experience. I opted to pivot to a different race happening at the same time - and with some beginner’s luck, I won.

Fast forward to 2023 and I was super motivated to come back to Smoke ‘n’ Fire. Long story short, I was going really well until I wasn’t and decided to pull the plug a bit over halfway. You can read that full account on one of my first Substack posts here.

It’s now 2024 and I’m standing in Boise’s Hyde Park at midnight, starting this year’s edition. Third time’s the charm, eh? As Mark Twain said: good decisions come from experience, and experience comes from making bad decisions. I’d made a lot of mistakes over the last few ultra races and gained a lot of experience. It was time to put it to the test and seek some redemption.

With multiple big wildfires blazing across Idaho and threatening the route, the race organizers were forced to adapt away from the original plan. Despite being an incredibly difficult year, they did an amazing job at putting together a fantastic course that combined a bit of everything: tough climbs, singletrack, and gravel roads that would test even the strongest ultra cyclist. The final route would be around 440 miles with over 30,000 feet of climbing through some of Idaho’s best terrain. Throw in the kicker of a midnight start, and we were teed up for a proper bike race.

Calm before the storm in Boise’s Hyde Park.

The start rolls east out of Boise, along the greenbelt. We were escorted by the Idaho Women’s Bikepacking group, which was a great neutral cruise through the city before hitting the first bit of dirt. My strategy was to push a bit early on and see if I could build a healthy lead going through Ketchum to have a buffer for when I’d sleep the following night. The group split over the first climb, and I found myself in the lead with another rider. We yo-yo’d through the rest of the night before I got a gap going through the town of Featherville. Based on my experience of riding this section quickly last year, I had a goal pace of reaching Ketchum in 12 hours. I nailed it, rolling in right at noon.

A quick stop for lunch and a big resupply of food for the next 24 hours and I was back on the route, starting the first big crux section of the race which includes some tough singletrack, a long gravel two track, and then a big climb and grueling hike a bike to Galena Summit.

Titus Lake. IYKYK.

Over the mountain pass the route brings riders into the glorious Sawtooth basin, headed towards the turnaround point on the legendary Fisher Creek loop. It was late evening and I’d been awake for over 24 hours. I’m not a big all-nighter guy and the fatigue started creeping in. I pushed up the long gravel climb to the top of the loop, and started…seeing things. I haven’t really hallucinated in one of these things before, but I knew I was starting to fade when a mountain goat sized rabbit appeared in the distance. I thought that was kind of strange. Dusk was settling in and my mind started playing more tricks on me, the charred trees of the burnt landscape shape shifting into dragons.

Smoky view of the Sawtooths from the high point of Fisher Creek.

I bombed the flowy singletrack descents back down to the highway and opted to take a quick power nap at the trailhead. With a long highway stretch in the dark and another lap up Galena pass I wanted to be a little more alert than I currently was.

I pushed through the long highway stretch and gravel climb, arriving at the top of Galena Summit at midnight. A few of my coworkers from Galena Lodge were crazy enough to come cheer me on at the top of the climb with vuvuzelas! This was my lowest moment of the ride, I was absolutely shattered from the lack of sleep and had ridden 24 straight hours and almost 250 miles in one push. I descended the other side of the pass and hit the Harriman Trail, aiming to get to a campground at Prairie Creek where I’d sleep for about 3 hours.

In my fairly limited experience in these types of events, I know I ride so much stronger if I can get a bit of sleep. This race is a tough distance because it’s short enough that one could probably get by with skipping sleep, which acutely saves some time and weight, but also hard enough that it could backfire and cause a significant slowing down by the end of the route. I opted to aim for 3 hours of sleep during the second night to try and be fresher for the final day.

From here it’s a bit of a mental challenge, riding back the way we came, headed through Ketchum and over another mountain pass, headed toward Boise. It was a very cold morning - hovering below 40 degrees until the sun properly rose. But some good layering choices and gradual climbing meant I could keep from freezing.

I knew I was in the lead at this point, but had to keep focused on my own approach and not get caught up in race mode. Eat, drink, keep it steady. The biggest lesson I learned on the Divide was to not let other racers decisions affect my own experience. To ride my own ride and separate myself from race mode. Even in a “short” ultra like this one, it’s a long game. For me, this approach helps me move more efficiently.

I reached the small, Trump-loving town of Featherville where I picked up a few supplies and started riding on the northern split of the finishing lollipop. It was now approaching 80 degrees, quite the contrast to that morning. I’d have to reckon with a ~90 minute climb up to Phifer Creek Summit in the heat before descending down to the Middle Fork of the Boise river.

Here my body was starting to break down a bit. Some intense pain in my knees, left achilles tendon, and my “downstairs” area were slowing my progress. I did my best to nurse my way through, knowing I had less than 100 miles to the finish. I was now beginning what would be the most challenging part of the route for me: Middle Fork Road. Simultaneously one of the prettiest and worst roads I’ve ever had the fortune of riding, this ~70 mile stretch was slightly downhill but comprised of absolutely SAVAGE washboard. Like edge-to-edge, teeth-chattering washboard. There was no escaping it. Throw in 90+ degree heat and it was such a mental test to get through. At this point I’m just surviving, trying to stay present and get through each mile of inescapable, diabolical suffering. As I reflect on this section, I’m glad it was included by the organizers. We do these things to challenge ourselves, test our limits, and hopefully come out the other side better humans and athletes. In the moment I hated everything, the endless washboard completely jackhammering my deeply sore undercarriage.

Yep. The glamours of bikepack racing. Type 2 fun at its finest.

The ‘24 Smoke ‘n’ Fire route.

The washboard eventually ends and the road turns to pavement, nearing the outskirts of Boise. One final tough gravel climb pops me into the Boise foothills and some very fun and flowy singletrack brings me into town, and the finish, right as the sun sets. To my surprise, I was met by a raucous crew of the amazing Boise bikepacking community, handing me water, chips and salsa, and beer. Job done. I had set a goal to finish in under 48 hours, and I completed the course in first place in just over 44 hours. Redemption!

Huge thank you to Norb and Bart (race organizers) and the exceptional community of Idaho’s cycling community. I should also mention that two local young riders, Edyn Teitge and Oliver Smith, both whom I’ve coached throughout their years, came in 5th and 6th, having pushed through the entire route on no sleep! Kids these days…

Some final reflections:

• This sport is really, really hard. Mentally, emotionally, physically. I hadn’t finished the last two races I’d entered and began to doubt myself and my abilities. But the choice to continue showing up, exposing myself to the possibility of failure and challenge is what I love about it.

• Doing these rides is where I feel most alive, most myself, most present. I struggle immensely with self-doubt and other mental challenges, and my hope is to somehow translate the feelings of confidence I experience out on the trail into my everyday life.

• Sleep is cheating in ultras. I would have totally fallen apart had I skipped it. It’s a balance, though, and determining one’s own personal strategy is critical. Don’t try to emulate the “pros” on this.

• One of the hardest parts of these events for me is fueling. It’s something I’m continually working on but I had some tough moments in this realm. In many ways, the nutrition demands of ultra cycling defy all logic of typical sports nutrition principles, but I know there’s a way to dial it in.

I am looking forward to some rest and recovery, already getting excited for ski season, and scheming up some big goals for 2025. Thanks for reading!

You can see my effort on Strava here, as well as a video I made with what gear I brought along for the ride on YouTube.

-jackson