SWEDEN – When Andy Buchholtz approached a sketchy downhill in the darkness of night, well into a legendary 230-kilometre cross-country ski race he was participating in, the Canmore skier figured the safest option was to take off his skis and walk down.
Except there was just one problem.
Exhausted and barely able to stand on the snowy slope in Sweden, Buchholtz looked down at his feet and was surprised to see his bindings were frozen solid to his shoes.
“It was probably an inch thick of ice all around my feet and my skis and I can't take my skis off,” said Buchholtz.
“It’s funny because at the finish line there was someone waiting with a massive bowl of boiling water so people could take their skis off because they were just binded to your feet.”
As Buchholtz put it, the Nordenskiöldsloppet, a 230-kilometre single-day race above the Arctic Circle, was “definitely an experience.”
Skiing classic style, he crossed the finish line of the legendary adventure last Saturday (March 29) after 19 hours, 19 minutes and 40 seconds of continuous racing in the land of IKEA and meatballs.
Prying off icy skis, Buchholtz gingerly walked over to the shower area and was unable to feel his feet because they were so numb. When the hot water rushed over the shivery skier, he closed his eyes and couldn’t see anything other than the white, frozen tracks he had just spent the better part of the day hustling through.
“I could see the track on the lake,” said Buchholtz.
“We look at those tracks for so many hours that they kind of engrave in the back of your brain. It was such a weird feeling.
“I was very much into the race, I would say for the first 175km … and at 180, it was like, ‘why am I here?’ And your spirit is disconnected from your body, like, your body is like, ‘keep double poling’ while not even thinking about what you’re doing anymore.”
On the course there were paramedics who had the right to stop participants from continuing if there was a risk to the person's health.
Offering assistance on the sidelines to the local racer was Canmore’s Alma Steyn, who remembers all the faces of racers as they skied by during the imposing competition.
“I would say the only time I was not worried, but at 188 kilometres [Buchholtz] was very cold, like he could barely move, he was shivering, and we were trying to get warm clothes on him,” said Steyn. “I had a moment there where I was like, ‘is he going to be OK?’ But throughout the entire race, you could see it was hard, but his spirits stayed quite positive the whole time, which was incredible.”
Of the hundreds signed up for the race, about a quarter did not finish.
Buchholtz added the ultra long race gets worse and colder as the day goes on and it “isn’t for everybody.”
So, just why in the heck was Buchholtz putting himself through this? Well, there are several reasons, actually.
The Canmore skier is the kind of guy who likes to test his limits. Someone who will ask, “how far can I go?”
The Nordenskiöldsloppet, with its jaw-dropping distance for a single-day event, is the kind of challenge that gives thrill seekers a formidable challenge.
However, the No. 1 reason was in memory of his late grandfathers and to raise funds and awareness for Parkinson’s Canada.
Richard and George both lived with the condition and passed away in the past two years. Buchholtz also has one family member currently living with Parkinson’s. Parkinson’s disease is a neurological disorder that affects mobility. According to Parkinson Canada, more than 110,000 Canadians are living with the condition.
The cause felt bigger than the race, Buchholtz said.
“At no point I felt I was going to give up. It felt like both my grandfathers were over my shoulder,” he said.
The temperature to start the race was a breezy plus-five, but that’s where all the trouble ensued later on. Skiing in ankle-deep water due to the melting snow and ice, Buchholtz said his shoes were soaked after 30km.
“When you’re out there on the lake, you’re hoping you just don’t go through the lake … there are snowmobiles [on the ice] so you know you’re not going to break through, but it was quite the experience, like [skiing on a] melting frozen lake in pitch dark at night with just your lamp,” he said with a laugh.
“It felt like at 60-K there were no tracks and bushes and rocks were everywhere, poking out of the tracks ... past 175-K, it didn’t matter who was in front or who was passing me, it was just like, 'let’s go home, let’s get done with this.’”
He found solace at his checkpoints with Steyn, about every 30-40 km. She had food gels, water, and extra clothes waiting and it gave him “extra will” to keep going. He burned 11,000 calories during race day.
The help Buchholtz received from specialists in Canmore before the race aided in his adventure. To prepare his body and mind for the gruelling race, Buchholtz skied up to 50km per day at the Canmore Nordic Centre.
“The tough part is it’s non-stop for 20 hours, so it’s definitely among the hardest things I’ve done, but more from the mental point of view,” he said.
At the finish line in Jokkmokk, Buchholtz said he didn't have any injuries, nor did he suffer from frostbite. It was a struggle to walk over to the shower, though.
A day later, the Canmore ironman was chipper and said it didn’t feel like he had skied 230km 24 hours earlier.
“It’s not very high intensity because it's too long. It’s more mentally what you put yourself through,” he said.
Originally from France, Buchholtz said after he crossed the finish line, he received tons of messages from family in Europe around 1:30 a.m., who were able to live track his progress throughout the day.
He raised $2,100 for Parkinson’s research and awareness.
