The Greatest Alaskan Athlete you've never heard of

[Nanuq]

There's a great article in today's paper about my riding buddy Pete Basinger. Way to go Pete!

Pondering a pro future

Peter Basinger has to decide whether to go for the glory

By CRAIG MEDRED

Published: October 21, 2007

Last Modified: October 21, 2007 at 04:17 AM

Low clouds shroud the dying spruce trees on the Anchorage Hillside and the rain falls lightly as Peter Basinger heads out for a Sunday evening ride on his single-speed mountain bike. Alaska has barely turned from August to September, and already the chill of fall is in the air.

Most cyclists would find the conditions unappealing. The trails criss-crossing the steep mountainsides around the home Basinger has agreed to house-sit are less than ideal for riding a simple single-speed, and on this evening the rain has left a skim of wet sand atop the gravel roads. It coats the 26-year-old rider's face and clothes when he rides, and flies into his eyes, nose and mouth.

Even Basinger concedes the riding conditions aren't the best in North America, but he doesn't have much choice. Between a job and his university studies, he has only a small window of time in which to train, and this is that window. Welcome to the world of Alaska's top mountain-bike racer.

The course record holder for the frozen, 350-mile Iditarod Trail Invitational up and over the Alaska Range in February, Basinger is fresh off a second-place finish in the single-speed competition at the broiling 24 Hours of Adrenaline World Solo Championship in Monterey, Calif., in Sept. 1-2.

Temperatures there stalked 100 degrees while Basinger was doing loops around a 13.74-mile course that climbed 2,500 feet per lap. By the end, he'd done 17 laps -- same as the winner -- but got nudged out at the finish line.

Still, his showing was impressive. He did 233 miles in 24 hours while climbing 42,500 feet. The latter is about the equivalent of trudging to the 20,320-foot summit of Mount McKinley from the Kahiltna Glacier base camp three times.

About a week earlier, he'd tackled another difficult uphill race with an even gnarlier downhill -- the Up and Over Powerline Pass race through the Chugach Mountains behind Anchorage. Riding his single-speed hardtail, Basinger dusted a field of riders on multi-speed, full-suspension bikes designed to smooth and speed a rough and steep descent to Indian.

"I just thought I was going to ride and have fun,'' Basinger said afterward. "But then I found myself passing the leader 6 miles in, going up the Powerline trail and I figured I should go hard."

Going and going and going hard in the style of the Energizer Bunny is what has made Basinger the best Alaska athlete most people have never heard of. Other serious cyclists know the name, but outside of that small fraternity, Basinger remains unknown.

Lead the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race over the Alaska Range to McGrath and you will get your name known worldwide, even if you don't finish the race. Win the Iditarod Invitational by riding a bike to McGrath faster than a speeding husky, you will get a few lines on some cycling Web sites and a passing mention in the Alaska press.

There might be even less recognition for winning the 24-Hours of Kincaid, the Fireweed 400 or any of the other Alaska races Basinger has won in the last few years, and it isn't much better Outside. Once a high-profile, industry-backed competitive sport, the professional mountain bike circuit has been on the skids for years.

Basinger knows mountain bike racers Outside who've attracted sponsors. He's talked to them. He knows none are getting rich. This is not the Tour de France, where the best support riders earn more than $100,000 a year.

A mountain biker who gets $10,000 from a sponsor is doing good. "I just think what I could do if I got $10,000,'' Basinger said. Then he thinks about what he has said and almost has to laugh. Is it really worth it?

Wouldn't it be smarter to simply finish at the university, get that teaching certificate, start teaching and spend some time in the summer racing bikes?

But then, of course, there would be that lingering question: How good could I have been if I'd moved Outside, gotten ultra serious about the training and taken that next step? Maybe, Basinger concedes, it wouldn't change anything. Maybe, like some other top endurance athletes, he'd just end up trying so hard he'd end up overtraining and start down that slippery slope of steadily declining performance.

Maybe being constrained by a job as a bike mechanic and school is something of a hidden blessing. Maybe it keeps him fit enough to compete at a high level, but leaves his legs fresh enough to keep up with his lungs. Maybe. Then again, maybe not.

On the cusp of being forced to make a decision between living the avocation or embracing a vocation and starting to settle down, Basinger has a lot of maybes to contemplate. "You can be a pro cyclist,'' said Pat Irwin, who tried that route, "but it ain't much of a profession. "(But) I'd say, 'Do it while you can. Alaska will always be here."

RAW TALENT

Those who know cycling all seem to believe that despite Basinger's success, he hasn't tapped his full potential. "He's got a tremendous amount of talent,'' said Janice Tower, one of the top female cyclists in Anchorage. "He could probably do anything on the bike.'' Tower first met Basinger seven years ago when she was part of a team preparing to do the grueling Race Across America. "He was interested in being our team mechanic,'' she said, "of being on the support group. He was a budding bike mechanic at the time.'' Cycling was then still relatively new to Basinger.

An Anchorage resident since moving north with his family from Maryland when he was 10, Basinger didn't get serious about riding until he was in high school. He credits his dad's best friend, David Peach, with the introduction to mountain biking and the fun to be had exploring the trails on the outskirts of Alaska's largest city. Basinger soon had the cycling bug.

He started riding his bike to school at Polaris K-12 and almost everywhere else. He rode it one winter from Nenana along the frozen rivers of the Interior to the Bering Sea Coast and then along the frozen seashore north to Nome. He rode it down the Alaska Highway to Oregon. He rode it from Knik to McGrath along the Iditarod Trail faster than anyone has ever ridden before.

Bill Merchant -- organizer of the mountain bike, ski and foot race along the Iditarod Trail -- now talks about Basinger in terms once reserved for John Stamstad of Washington state, a member of the Mountain Bike Hall of Fame and a legend for his dominance of the old Iditasport race along the Iditarod Trail.

"In my book,'' Merchant said, "Pete's damn close if not there already.'' "He's 10 times the cyclist I was, even if he's not pretty,'' added Irwin, another past winner of the Iditarod bike race. "He's just strong." "With Pete, it's all physical,'' Merchant said. "I don't know that Pete strategizes at all. I think Pete just goes out there and does it.''

ENDURANCE RIDER

On that Sunday ride in September, Basinger illustrates this exactly by muscling his single-speed up a steep grade that stalls an average mountain biker on a fancy 27-speed bike. Once atop a ridge overlooking Anchorage, Basinger follows up by setting off so fast down a gnarly descent on his hardtail that the rider behind on a 5-inch-travel, full-suspension bike has to work hard to keep up.

"He's so tenacious,'' Tower said. "I think he's always done crazy things, (but) his interest in bike riding has really picked up in recent years. He's not afraid to be alone.'' Tower, a very good road racer, thinks Basinger could do almost anything on a bike, even follow the likes of Lance Armstrong and Floyd Landis, a former professional mountain-bike racer, toward European success. "That's where the money is,'' she notes.

The only problem might be that road racing, with its emphasis on high-tech gear, carefully orchestrated events and a cult of personality among the riders, runs counter to Basinger's nature. He's far more comfortable with the laid-back world of mountain-bike racing, and especially the extra laid-back world of 24-hour or multi-day endurance events.

"He's built up a great amount of endurance over the years,'' Tower said. "He knows his body well, and he gets out there and just rides hard.'' "What's he's been able to accomplish is absolutely amazing,'' Merchant said. "Last year, when he set the (Iditarod Invitational) record it was on a course 35 miles longer because of the detour, and the year before, he only slowed down to stay with Rocky (Reifenstuhl) all the way to the finish.''

NOT FOR THE GLORY

Basinger sacrified an easy win in the 2006 Iditarod Invitational because he thought a faltering Reifenstuhl might end up in trouble if left alone on a wilderness trail in extreme cold. It makes some question whether he has that killer drive to win, even though he has clearly proven his focus and determination.

"The time (for Peter) to do something is now,'' Tower said. Basinger understands this. Worse, he knows that to even try he will need to leave the place he loves, at least temporarily.

"It's hard to do it anywhere,'' Irwin noted. "It's almost impossible to do it from Alaska.''

Sponsors might line up to attach themselves to the winner of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, but they really don't care who comes out top dog in the Iditarod Trail Invitational. Basinger could complain, but he doesn't. He doesn't get on his bike for the money or the glory; he gets on it for the enjoyment.

There's a reason he rides, he said; it's because he likes to ride.

Recent Basinger feats

2007

[LordRasta]

Amazing considering he rides a single-speed. You could NEVER get the pros to ride something like that.

[KB]

Indeed he is a remarkable young man, I guess he has to stop and wait a lot when riding with you Bob

Ken

[Dizzy]

wow single speed and hard tail.. thats crazy!!

[jeff g]

Indeed impressive.

I still ride a hardtail, but single speed?

The guy is obviously an animal.

Ride on.

[Nanuq]

Animal indeed! Tonight Pete's competing in the Iditasport Invitational, a mountain bike race to McGrath (375mi.) or Nome (1,100mi.). He's already into Puntilla Lake, that's over 160 miles, in 28 hours.

Mind you, some of the trail has only recently been punched through and the trail breaking crew are reporting chest-deep snow in places. One trail breaker reported going off the trail, and over his head in the new snow.

Oh, and this is after Pete broke one of his pedals off, had to wait 8 hours for a new one to be flown out to him, and still passed the race leaders into Puntilla.

GO PETE!