Something always seems to be ‘cracking’ around 1993 Pipestone High School graduate Pete Hansen.
Certainly, that checks out, as Hansen lives with the sound of drum sticks cracking skins as the Director of the percussion academy Groove Inc. in Sioux Falls, S.D. – where he resides with his wife Sarah and their four children.
However, as an adventure bicyclist Hansen often appears to be the conduit for even louder, and certainly more alarming resonance, whether coming from the crunching of ice on a desolate stretch of the Iditarod Trail Invitational (350) bike race in Alaska or the cracking of skulls between a pair of rejected male buffalo during mating season in the Badlands of South Dakota on his most recent trek – the 2020 Trans South Dakota Race.
Not only did Hansen draw such curious cacophony to himself during the TSDR that began July 18 at the Buffalo Jump Steakhouse in Beulah Wyo. (elev. 3,500 feet), but also his new friend and riding partner Petr Ineman received a taste of what it’s like to be around the bravado of the seemingly hell-bent bullseye.
“We were almost to Blunt (S.D.), trying to stay ahead of a storm, and Petr says, ‘hey Pete, you think we should stop?’” explained the 46-year-old Hansen, approximately 335 miles into the 714-mile cross-state journey. “‘Nah, let’s keep going.’”
Seconds later the pair were virtually engulfed by a lightning strike that had the cyclists tingling for hours.
“It was a crash and a blinding light in front of us,” said Hansen.
Ineman disagreed, “No, is was just behind us.”
“Oh man, we were in the lightning bolt!” Hansen offered. “It was like that scene in Star Wars where they’re fighting and the guy has electricity coming out of his fingers. Our fingers were totally tingling, and the only two things Petr, who has summited Denali (elev. 20,310 feet) twice and won the ITI 1,000, is afraid of are lightning and snakes… and he says, ‘should we stop now?’”
While just a snippet of the vast experience they shared over the course of four days, five hours and 17 minutes between Beulah and North Sioux City, Iowa that placed them in a tie for third place behind winner James Meyer (3 days, 5 hours, 5 min, 50 sec) and runner-up Stan Prutz (4 days, 1 hour, 33 min.), the episode proved one of the defining moments of their race – helping them develop a friendship that would eventually lead to more grandiose ground plans.
Having competed in the TSDR twice before, Hansen learned much for his prior treks. So, despite getting his usual, sporadic pre-race slumber (maybe four hours) the Friday before meeting at the starting line in Beulah, Hansen had banked several hours of sleep days before his third, totally self-contained TSDR that featured a field of 22 cyclists.
“There’s three races within the TSDR, a 60-mile race to Lead S.D., a halfway race to Pierre, S.D. (360 mile) that ends after the river crossing and the entire race which goes all the way to North Sioux City,” explained Hansen, the oldest of Dennis and Diane Hansen’s two boys. “And there’s different kinds of racers of different ages, but it’s not a race like RAGBREI (annual race across Iowa) where, maybe, you’re going 4-5 hours on bikes a day and the other hours are spent eating, drinking and socializing. You’re trying to get across South Dakota as fast as humanly possible. And to make it more interesting, you’re going on gravel ‘B’ roads most of the way… think there’s only 10 miles of paved road during the entire race. They’re not even typical ‘B’ roads, the type raised up four-wheelers would get 50 feet into and back up – ‘not worth it.’”
And the race hits the field with a sucker punch off the starting line, ascending more than 3,000 miles, from Beulah to Cement Ridge Lookout (6,647) over the initial 22 miles of the course.
Beginning with half as much weight, 45 pounds fully loaded on his Salsa Journeyman, compared to his first TSDR on a Fat Bike (110 pounds), Hansen, Ineman and Meyer quickly distance themselves from the rest of the field. Within 15 minutes the trio are well out in front.
“We’re cruising uphill and everyone else is falling back,” Hansen said. “James, who grew up in Spearfish and then went out to Colorado to race mountain bikes is just tearing it up.”
After the incredible climb up the first section, the course eventually flattens out to a single-track stretch of 7-8 miles of paved road moving toward Terry Peak before ascending for a short distance up a steep, gravel logging road used by mining companies.
“It’s one of the most brutal sections of the course; it’s not long, but because a tornado had wiped out 40-50 trees, you had to lift bike your up 3-4 feet to go over each,” Hansen said. “It definitely added an hour-and-a-half to you ascent – easily. It was insane. You get done with the climb up to Terry Peak and you head down, over the northeast side.”
Because of the tornado, Meyer – who grew up in the area and knew the terrain – had offered his services in rerouting the race – and, though Hansen thought it likely gave him an unfair advantage, Meyer was nowhere to be seen thereafter.
Again, having learned from previous TSDR experiences, Hansen took the descent in stride.
“It puts you down this old, abandoned river bed with rocks the size of grapefruits or human heads,” he said. “You’re flying down and because of the loose rock your body takes this incredible pounding; last year I could feel every rock in my hands… think I got the feeling back in them around Christmas time. It’s only a three-mile stretch but it’s constant pounding and you’re holding the brakes the entire time. This year I practiced a couple times with lower pressure in my tires and it took way less time.”
From there, the course takes the racers on to Lead (57 miles). Then it’s the Mickelson trail.
“Petr and I tried to stay with James, but he took off and we kind of decided to go together,” Hansen said. “We were in about 4-5th place at that point, but somebody stopped to have a slice (pizza), another dropped off, and by time we get into Lead we’re in second and third; once you’re in Lead the hard part of the race is over.”
Or so they thought.
Although feeling confident at this point, Hansen engaged in a practice few, if any, racers employ during an endurance race.
“At that point it felt like vacation compared to the climb and the rocky descent, so I switched over to flip flops,” he said. “Everybody gives me crap about it, but you have to give your feet a break or you’ll get ‘foot burn.’ I have these pedals that are flat on one side and clipped on the other, so I’ll do that for eight hours if I can and get out of my bike shoes. It was through the Mickelson trail and on to Hill City, where Petr and I really bonded. We got some sandwiches and talked and prepared for a crazy stretch uphill.
“You have to carry your bike ¾ of a mile and if you didn’t have a computer (course tracker) you wouldn’t know where you were; it’s so steep and, at night you’d hear all these strange animal noises and other things, but this time it was light, so it was a cakewalk. Pretty soon you’re at Mount Rushmore.”
From the sculptured mountain face (5,725 feet) in the Black Hills the racers head toward Hermosa (3,327 feet), the goal for most over the course of the first day.
“That’s the goal and leaving the Black Hills you get out of trees,” Hansen said. “ It goes pretty flat from there and it becomes quite dry… see some very Badland-esque kinds of things. Getting there the first night is pretty exciting, but it leaves you with a choice. Do you get some sleep and pass through the next 90 miles in the sun and the heat or do you do the insane, eat and take off immediately – crossing the Badlands at night? I had no intention of stopping because I didn’t the year before. Petr is pretty tired, so we spend 15 bucks to have a shower – the best money you can spend – slam a coffee and take off to cross the Badlands.”
The near noiseless night journey across the Badlands, from Hermosa to Philip (approx. 65 miles), didn’t afford the pair a chance to take in the scenic wonder of the area, and the quiet rumble of rubber tire on gravel was soon interrupted by another clamorous ‘crack.’
“We’re going through this, about, eight-mile stretch of scenic byway between 10-2 a.m.,” Hansen explained. “We’re biking in total silence, only hearing our peddling. Just off the road you hear puffing, snorting and grunting…, ‘what’s that?’ I turn my light over and I see two buffalo ramming heads, rejected males, and they’re not happy. I don’t make eye contact and keep moving quietly away – right as a badger crosses our path, looking as though he’s saying, ‘if the buffalo doesn’t get you I will.’”
Between Hermosa and Philip, the racers have the opportunity to take a break at Wall and perhaps get a hotel for the remaining hours of daybreak. Unfortunately, due to COVID, Wall is a who’s-who of travelers from states far and wide – relegating Hansen and Ineman to a park as a makeshift campsite.
“It’s about 4 a.m. and the sun is just coming up; Petr sets up his sleeping bag on a picnic table and I’m laying down to get some sleep on the cement,” Hansen said. “About 8 a.m. a mom and her two kids are out and playing in the nearby skate park, and that’s the end of that. We pack up and head towards Philip.”
Hansen and Ineman travel another 40 miles before getting a well-deserved respite in Philip. They sleep for about 3 ½ hours during the heat of the day, get up and get some food in their bodies before taking off once again with sights set on Pierre.
“We do that in about 7 ½ hours, going 13-14 miles an hour, the fastest I’ve ever done it,” Hansen said. “We had some sleep in Wall and Philip and we’re feeling pretty good and get there about 2 a.m. We have to go six miles up to the dam in Pierre because you don’t go straight across the river. You have to take a boat, paddle down river and get off on the other side near the road bridge.
“The rule is you can’t cross at night, can’t cross until sunrise (6 a.m.). James got there while it was still light, so he crosses. Birk McGilvrey (4th place: 4 days, 12 hours, 57 minutes) is there before us, but couldn’t cross until the next morning and Stan (Prutz, runner-up: 4 days, 1 hour, 33 min.) pulls in at midnight.”
Prior to the 2020 race, TSDR organizer Joe Stiller had sold all but one of his boats in making a deal with a nationally recognized adventure purveyor for new boats. Having trouble getting materials to fill the order… still, one week before the race, the company promises to have them ready. The night before the promises remained unfulfilled, and… the next morning they’re not answering the phones – leaving the racers with just one of Stiller’s original boats.
“There were supposed to be five boats; James is gone, Stan is promised the second crossing and we slept only 2-3 hours because we thought we’d get on a boat at 6 a.m.,” Hansen said. “Birk crosses and we’re still stuck. If we take the road bridge it’s a 14-hour penalty, so we wait. By the time we get to cross it’s 2 p.m… stuck in Pierre for 12 hours, but there was nothing we could do about it.”
Discouraged by having to wait, Hansen and Ineman hope to make up time crossing the flats between Pierre (checkpoint #1, end of the sprint race) and Mitchell (checkpoint #2) that carry them through Blunt and Wessington Springs. After enduring the lightning near Blunt, discouraged was perhaps the best they could muster on a day full of storms and soaking rain that left the pair mired in the muck.
“We had to go through this clay, muddy garbage, and literally a three-mile stretch took us 1 ½ – 1 hour, 45 minutes – pushing our bikes through sludge,” Hansen said. “Every 10 steps you had to take your fingers and pull mud out of your fork. By the end of it, between the rain and the lightning, we were completely demoralized. Fortunately, we found a hose to spray off our bikes, and we heard we weren’t the only ones to be saved by it.
“I called Sarah, told her how ridiculous it was and knew we still had 50 miles of racing to do before we got to a town. “We thought we were 30 miles from Wessington Springs, but actually we were 45 miles away. It was a string of about four or five horrible things, and we were beside ourselves. Petr was able to get my bike working and I’m not sure if I’m happy or not about it because the next five hours was some of the most torturous, exhausted biking we’d ever done.”
Traveling the now soft, and spongy roads where they’d usually go at a clip of 8-9 miles an hour, their three-hour ride turns into 5-7 hours before getting to Wessington Springs.
“We’re shells of men,” Hansen recalls. “Some truckers are sitting at a table at the gas station… and a guy asks us, ‘where are you headed?’ Sioux City. ‘What… where are you coming from?’ Beulah. ‘What, are you insane?’ Yes!
“We looked horrible, we’re ready to quit at mud crossing and now at Wessington Springs I’m looking like Frodo after coming back from Middle Earth. The guy says, ‘well, I hope you’re having fun.’ Petr goes off and comes back with two beers, which totally calms me down. We get a hotel room and get some rest, but at that point I would have had to feel better to die.”
Ineman, who ironically speaks of Hansen as being a super funny and ‘positive’ guy, wakes up his racing companion after four hours and says, ‘let’s get going.’
“We’re not going,” replied Hansen. “Because when we do, we’re going to the end (finish line).”
The pair, which likely had a total of 14 hours of sleep during their entire journey, get one more hour before gearing up for the final 220 miles that would take them through Mitchell and on to Sioux City.
“I had contemplated not racing after that section before Wessington Springs, but I got some sleep and knew I was just being a big baby,” Hansen said. “We headed out for Mitchell and it was the best part of trip. We were refreshed, cruising on some paved road, going 20 times faster, and feeling good as we moved toward another check point.”
While the smoother section offered their bodies a momentary reprieve, it also allowed the pair more opportunity for conversation and exchanges of philosophy.
“I didn’t know much about Pete; we’d met a few times prior to the South Dakota race and we’d met in Alaska before Iditarod,” said Ineman, a 42-year-old native of the Czech Republic who currently lives outside of Chicago. “We also saw each other at some gravel rides like the Almanzo in Minnesota, but I did not know him very well.
“After this I felt like I knew him for centuries. We just clicked. Riding with someone usually doesn’t work, you can’t even plan something like that, but we clicked and had a lot of fun riding together – talking and sharing stories.”
Which can make an extremely arduous journey… joyful.
“It does; I can do solo rides, but I enjoy sharing the adventure with somebody else,” Ineman aid. “Even though we found out we have different lifestyles, we found many similarities too – especially in what we like to eat and drink while riding.”
At each checkpoint of the TSDR racers have their picture taken and receive one section of a three-part medal. In Mitchell, Hansen and Ineman picked up the second part of their reward and… have another beer.
“We decide to get a beer at every gas station the rest of the way because it makes us happier and less frustrated,” Hansen declared. “We bike all the way down to the colonies, Skunk Creek on Big Sioux River… roll into Menno and they’re closed. We make the crossing to Viborg with little to eat, but we know we’re 20 miles from Truck Towne (Plaza) in Beresford… definitely our goal. We’re about eight miles away and it’s getting cold out . Our bodies are starting to shiver by this time and we’re exhausted. We find a church and a cement slab to get a rest… stay about 30 minutes, but it felt like 30 seconds and the temperature drops even more… we gotta go.”
Two hours out, Hansen and Ineman finally make it to Beresford – nearly as thankful as they were arriving in Wessington Springs.
‘We’re sitting there eating and drinking and these farmers are asking where we’re coming from,” Hansen said. “Beulah, Wyo. ‘Are you crazy?’ Yes, but that’s not the crazy part… we left on Saturday!”
The pair fall asleep for 20 minutes and wake drooling, with no farmers in sight. They quickly get fueled up and get back on the trail.
Again, they hit the unexpected, a stretch of freshly laid gravel that slows their pace from what would have been 15-16 miles-an-hour (30 downhill) to a mere 4-5-miles-an-hour (9-10 downhill) just three days prior.
But, they’re close.
“It was a horribly brutal last section on that flat stretch; we’re 20 miles away and we eat our last sandwiches,” Hansen says. “We just weren’t psychologically prepared for that… we get to the last turn, which turns into a paved road, roll in (North Sioux City) and… complete joy!
“Petr having done the ITI is used to being kind of underwhelmed. It’s usually a long time between the second and third-place racers coming across the finish line in that race, so no one is there to help you celebrate.”
Knowing this, Hansen had phoned ahead to his wife to bring celebratory provisions, including specific beer, Puerto Rican rum and cigars to be shared while lounging in camp chairs and footstools.
“It the best thing ever, to put your feet up after something like that,” he said. “Sarah brought us beef sticks from Babcock’s Meats (Alton, Iowa), the best ever, and she had my cowboy hat waiting for me.
“We started sharing stories with some of the others , feeling like kings; we get our medals and Petr says, ‘this is everything the ITI was not for me! Thank you.’ We really bonded during the race.”
So much so that Ineman promptly asked Hansen if they could race the 2021 ITI 1,000 together in February.
“During the race Petr asked me when I was coming back to Alaska,” Hansen said. “Most people who do the 350 successfully, which is the qualifier for the 1,000, come back for the 1,000, but I have four kids and would have to be gone for month-and-a-half – not to mention the money ($20,000 for expenditures) and the risk.”
That’s where Ineman and his expertise in completing the ITI 1,000 helped shine some light on the unthinkable.
“He wasn’t sure he could do it, but during this race we talked and I wanted to offer my support and knowledge in doing it,” Ineman said. “It made it a little more mentally comforting to know I’d be with him. I’d already done it, and I think that made the decision easier for everyone.”
Eventually after talking it over with his family, Sarah came back and gave Hansen the ‘green light’ for the 2021 ITI.
“I didn’t want to pressure him/them, but the future of the race is in doubt because of the dog sledding race,” said the 2020 ITI 1,000 (tie) men’s bike champion (22 days, 7 hours, 30 minutes) “They’ve had some hardship with that race lately, the last few years, and without it the human-powered races probably aren’t possible. I told him, ‘let’s do it while you can, don’t put it off because it might not be happening again. I hope I’m wrong, but you never know.
“I really hope we can make it work; it’s hard to plan a ride with somebody, especially on such a long race, but I’m hoping we’ll be able to do it and have fun like we did in South Dakota.”
And with his family’s blessing, Hansen hopes to roll their bonding TSDR experience right into the ITI 1,000.
“After about a week, and talking it over with Sarah and the boys, it’s a go; let’s go for it,” said Hansen, who once cursed his 350-mile journey from Anchorage to McGrath. “The 1,000 miles to Nome would be incredible. This year is the southern route, which Petr says is a little easier so… why not? Let’s go for it!”
