Photo from Birkie Fever by Tom Kelly
Modern-day Birkie skiers ought to be grateful they no longer have to scale the hills of Morgedal and Valhalla, as seen here. This picture was taken in 1979, the
last year these especially cruel climbs were part of the course. The hills of the American Birkebeiner
and our love/hate relationship with 'em
by Mark Parman The American Birkebeiner has always had a reputation for cruel hills. Birkebeiners groan about skiing up them striding, herringboning and
occasionally sidestepping. Or moan about skiing down them slipping, sliding, snowplowing and often crashing.
In 1976, the fourth Birkebeiner started from Telemark Lodge rather than Lake Hayward, and for the first time in its history, skiers kicked from north to south, finishing in Hayward. Unlike more recent Birkies, which tackle the formidable Powerline, the field went up and over Mount Telemark, an even more daunting climb. Pictures from Tom
Kelly's Birkie Fever show early Birkebeiners skiing up and over the top of the Morgedal head wall, the steepest part of Mount Telemark. A friend who skied these early races tells me it was tradition to sidestep the steepest part of the grade.
The back side of Mount Telemark was known as the Stormoen, and the race course used this downhill from 1976 through 1979. According to Kelly, nearly all Birkebeiner skiers had a tale to tell about this infamous
downhill. "There were thrills, and there were spills. But the 'hill' had become a trademark of the race, even though for many it was a love-hate relationship," wrote Kelly. The crowds gathered on the Stormoen to witness the carnage, proving that it's not just the NASCAR crowd who enjoys a good crash.
Today, we no longer ski the Morgedal and the Stormoen, but modern Birkebeiners have their own litany of hills: the Powerline, Seeley
Firetower and Bitch. There are several other climbs with lesser-known names, and a host of unnamed hills. Regardless of the name, in order to finish the Birkie, we must climb and descend these hills every February.
The Powerline isn't one climb, but rather a series of hills over 2 kilometers long; hills that run straight up the grade following the powerline cut. Maybe these hills hurt so much because we can see one following the other down the line, the task ahead stark and obvious.
Most Birkie skiers have Powerline horror stories falling on a downhill and tangling with half a dozen other skiers; falling face first on an uphill stepped on from behind and cueing up at the bottom of the hills; coming to a dead stop and marching on in long lines much like rush-hour traffic. Broken poles, broken skis, broken bindings.
Many skiers dash out of the starting gate, getting quickly into oxygen debt, and 2 kilometers later when they round the corner and cross
McNaught Road, there stands the first Powerline climb, an imposing wall. I feel like a sherpa staring up Mount Everest when I ski into that first climb. That one hill has dashed the hopes of many Birkie skiers.
About 10 kilometers into the race just before the Bayfield/Sawyer County line, skiers must negotiate a hard left, a corner that gets tighter and tighter. I've heard this corner called County Line Corner, but I
prefer Yard Sale Hill. In downhill skiing, a "yard sale" occurs when a skier takes a spectacular tumble, strewing skis, poles, hat and gloves across the ski hill, giving the appearance of a yard sale. As wave after wave skis down this hill, a berm builds up in the center of the trail, presenting two options: ski the boilerplate ice on the inside of the corner, or tackle the berm and the deeper snow that's been pushed to the
outside of the corner by thousands of skis. After a while, it's pretty much a Catch-22 situation. I prefer the inside of the corner, rather than flirting with the oaks and white pine on the outside. Other skiers opt for the sit ski, using their ski pants as a brake.
The next serious climb (although several come in-between) is the Seeley Firetower, where the trail peaks out at 1,733 feet above sea level, the highest point on the course. Between 10.5 and 12 kilometers, the trail
gains roughly 300 feet, much of it a straight-up grade in the last half kilometer. Also known as the High Point, this spot has good karma, even if it's tough to get to. (Last year, some thoughtful skier placed a photo of former Silent Sports editor Greg Marr at High Point.) Even though the course loses over 500 feet of elevation from High Point to Hayward, it's hardly downhill from here, though the next 3 kilometers after the High Point fly by rather quickly in the longest downhill of the
course.
Tourette's Hill begins 17 kilometers into the race. A local skier named it after Tourette's syndrome after hearing a crowd of skiers cuss while climbing it. Unlike the Powerline, Tourette's Hill is a blind climb: you can't see the top from the bottom. When skiers get up the first part of the climb and see that it doglegs to the left and pitches up even steeper, some involuntarily begin to swear and generally lose control of their
speech, hence Tourette's. I've also heard this climb called Buy Your Lunch Hill.
Bubblehead Hill comes about 2 kilometers before County Trunk OO, a bit after the 21-kilometer marker. Here the trail takes a hard right, then drops quickly. This time you can't see the bottom from the top, which is more unnerving than vice versa. It's a tricky descent. At the front of the race in softer and smoother snow, Bubblehead is manageable, but as the
waves pass and the trail gets snowplowed into an ice sheet, falls increase. A snowmobile trail crosses the Birkie Trail right at the top of the drop, so naturally curious snowmobilers (aka bubbleheads) congregate. They drink beer, hoot and holler and jeer, all at our expense. Some years they hold up scoring cards for impressive crashes, rating them 1 through 10. After a recent Birkie, a friend suggested that we should rate their crashes.
Double O Hill follows hard on the heels of Bubblehead Hill. What goes down must come up. This is a particularly nasty climb, especially for skiers who favor the V-1 to the left side. This hill is off camber, falling away to the left, and begs for a right side V-1. Spectators of the kinder and gentler sort gather here to cheer on their favorites, and you can hear the cheers long before you see the crowd, which dulls the exhaustion
somewhat. This climb at the halfway point does in many skiers every year who find a ride to town in a warm vehicle irresistible.
It does get easier from OO, and a topographical map confirms that the northern half of the trail is much hillier than the southern half. And with 23K in our arms and legs, the southern half doesn't feel any easier.
Heartbreak Hill lies just 1.5 kilometers south of Double O, but fortunately the recent course skis down Heartbreak. This, however, can
be challenging, particularly in icy conditions. Also, by this point in the race, fatigue has set in; the bear is on our backs and legs go wobbly, so anything can happen. Still, I'd rather schuss down Heartbreak than herringbone up it. Skied the other direction, like it is in the Pre-Birkie, it's a wall. Once skied up, we tend to not forget it.
Bitch Hill is also an unforgettable climb, and, like the Seeley Firetower, runs straight up the grade. Coming 40 kilometers in the race and right
after the shallower but longer Mosquito Brook Hill, Bitch Hill hurts everyone who scales her side. A skier can always count on revelers at the top of Bitch Hill, including the Bitches' rhythm band and the devil himself with his pitchfork. Nothing like Beelzebub to motivate skiers down the trail. If a skier has any snap after summiting Bitch, he or she can probably count on having a good race. Most skiers drag themselves over the top with a glazed look in their eyes and simply make their way
to the finish the best they can.
Highway 77 Climb is the last long climb of the race and starts just south of the state highway of the same name. This would be a difficult climb if skiers were fresh, but it comes with about 5 kilometers to go in the race. Blowing up here can cost a skier 50 or more spots. Or, on a good day, a skier can pick up dozens of places or beat that skier who's been stepping on his or her skis and poles the entire race. I've heard two
other names for this hill: Am I Done Yet Hill and I'm Gonna Quit Hill.
The final two climbs, although hardly even molehills, may be the most difficult of the race. After 50K, they feel like mountains.
First, Lake Hayward Hill confronts skiers when the town is in sight and the crowds on Main Street are clearly audible. This is the climb off the lake behind the Marketplace and up onto Railroad Avenue. It can be a deceptively brutal climb, especially after a stiff headwind across Lake
Hayward. In a stiff west wind, Lake Hayward also seems like one long hill. The snow is usually sugary and deep off the lake. And by then most of us are three sheets to the wind, reduced to tottering into town.
Around the corner and past the Birkebeiner headquarters, skiers must make it up one final climb the 1 percent grade of Main Street. This may be the most difficult climb of the day, even though a marble probably wouldn't roll down its grade. Skiers fight every inch of the way, through
deep snow and past the screaming masses. You might be trying to beat a rival or your significant other might be watching. Like drunken sailors, we stagger down Main through a deafening roar, muscles screaming "Quit!" yet we carry on the best we can because we can see the finish line banner and the crowd jacks us up. Plus, we know the donut holes are waiting.
Then suddenly we're there. The pain subsides and the hills we quickly forget until the following February.
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