The Grand Reverse: Panic at the Bothy!

It was a Grand Reverse course for the 2024 GT. Alex Lee opines on logistics and the reverse course. Note—he’ll be back for more.

The Daytona 500, the Kentucky Derby, The Boston Marathon, all iconic annual events that represent the pinnacle of sport. They bring out the best and inspire the soul of American athletes. Yet they all share common fault, there is no snow in Daytona, the horses run on track, and Boston is often hot in April…they exclude skiing. Luckily there is another event, another marquis de excellence, another stage for the hopeful winter athlete: The Grand Traverse.

For more than a quarter century, the Elk Mountain Grand Traverse has sent an annual field of some 450 skiers racing through the Rocky Mountains from Crested Butte to Aspen, Colorado. The typical course traverses nearly forty miles, beginning at the base of Mount Crested Butte, crossing Star Pass and Taylor Pass, before cruising the infamous Richmond Ridge to the top of Aspen Mountain and finishing with a ripping ski to the base for a total of up to 6500-8000 ft of vert (depending on whose gps track you trust). Finding rando racing while living in Colorado, the GT offered a chance to measure my metal, explore my pain cave, revel in an all-night scoot, and to ski. The race has a way of whispering in the wee hours of the morning, reminding all of our fragility, but then also praising our perseverance. As I have come to understand, to succeed at this race, one need only to be like Dory: Just. Keep. Going.

Some years ago, I first did the race on heavy gear with slow feet. I then bought spandex and lighter skis. This was the race that hooked me on racing. I will never be a superhuman front of the pack skier, but the Grand Traverse has taught me that there are many ways to win a long-distance race, and only one way to lose it. You lose when the race breaks you, but if you can suffer quietly and survive the war of attrition, you win; that’s the game.

This year, I headed back to Colorado, headlamp and race gear in hand, for another GT. The race is a team event, one of my favorite puzzle pieces. I joined Ilana Jesse to ski under our newly formed team, Panic at the Bothy! [a bothy, for those who don’t know, is an emergency shelter that ticks a required gear box, it’s sort of like a nylon trash bag that two people can sit underneath…]. Ilana won Last Skier Standing earlier this year. She is the toughest human being I know by a country mile. We have talked for years about racing together, and finally got the chance; Skiing with Ilana was absolutely my GT highlight this year.

Leading up to the race I had my list of worries, the first of which was the altitude. I live at sea level amidst thick air and full lungs. The GT spends much of its course above 12,000 ft. Fortunately I had the time to tack on a visit to see my folks the week leading up to the race in Colorado. This might not solve the altitude issue, but tempered its bite.

The next curveball to deal with came the Monday before the race. Ilana called me with a wicked chest cold. I was relieved, as I had been avoiding calling her with a nasty sinus infection I picked up from my daughter. We figured these ailments would cancel each other out…or at least since misery loves company, our team would be on the same page.