If the packed trail is singletrack wide, then things get interesting – a misplaced wheel will result in the front wheel washing out in the soft snow at the edges and a sudden stop. If the trail is steep down, you’re into squirming along it with a front brake that aches to be locked up at the slightest provocation. Climbing is also interesting on “marginal” snow that’s only just firm enough to ride on. The normal reaction to losing rear wheel traction may be to push your weight back, but in marginal snow losing traction can happen due to breaking through the surface layer, requiring less weight on the back to get more grip. Just playing in the snow was teaching me a lot about how to ride in these conditions. Fortunately, once you get used to snow’s quirks, the bike handling skills from UK mud translate fairly easily.

The race, though, is about more than just riding. The first prerequisite to having a good race is survival. With no solid ground to bang pegs into and weight being a major issue, open bivvies are the order of the day. The ferocious cold means that as soon as you stop riding, it’s time to get organised. This is where Bill and Kathi’s million little tips come in. Keep your lighter somewhere warm. Set your stove up next to your sleeping bag so you can make hot water bottles before sleep and breakfast after. Roll up the tops of your boots so they don’t get filled with snow. Sleep with your clothes on and modern wicking fabrics will actually transfer the moisture into ice on the outside of your bag during the night, drying you without external heat. The list goes on and on.

A typical day started by waking up in my bag and wondering where I was. When it’s -25°C outside, that’s some tribute to the warmth of a serious sleeping bag. Next, I find my head-torch stashed somewhere in the sleeping bag and then blink painfully as it reflects off the snow. Dehydration is a constant danger so the first real work is to melt snow for water. Compressed gas stoves don’t work in these conditions, so it’s the white gas routine of priming then lighting the stove whist being careful not to touch metal with bare hands. A little water in the pan before the snow allows it to melt properly (so never drink every last drop!). There is a spinach-like aspect to melting snow as large volumes instantly reduce to a little dribble in bottom of your pan. For me, as much as possible of the procedure must be done wearing mitts because my hands get cold very easily. Two minutes with warm hands is better than one minute without and then having to coax life back into them. For the same reason, if it’s really cold out then now’s the time to start chemical handwarmers so that they’re burning for the first part of the ride.

With freshly brewed water in hand, I could go over to the big tent Bill and Kathi had set up for us where a wood stove kept us warm enough to chat before the day’s ride. Every day would bring differing conditions with temperature swings of over 25° (that’s all the way up to around freezing). Both ends of the spectrum were challenging. When really cold, the moisture in my breath would freeze on the way out of my nostrils, an extended ride would result in a serious frosty beard, my camera would stop working, hot drinks would cool amazingly fast, greased bike parts would suddenly have lots of resistance. When conditions warm up, though, they get wet. The main advantage of the cold is that everything freezes and moisture can be shaken off as ice, keeping things dry and clean. Wet can be miserable and hard to escape from. Whatever the weather, though, we’d go off and “ride”.