The Race that Inspired the Watch

THE RACE THAT INSPIRED THE WATCH
KAMCHADAL 2004 – 200 miles, 72 hours, 5 volcanoes, Far Eastern Siberia

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In 2004 I flew to Alaska and then down the Aleutian Chain to the far side of Russia, to run a dog sled race most people have never heard of, and that never happened again.

It was called the Kamchadal International World Cup, a 200-mile stage race in Far Eastern Siberia. Three days, around five volcanoes. Temperatures that could drop hard and fast, weather that turned on you in minutes, and a wind that never stopped blowing. That race is the reason the O.U.T.C.A.S.T. bezel and dial exist.

The videos, below, fall mainly into 2 groups: 15 second clips from my then 'fancy' camera with video (no sound)... and a 3 part, 40 minute, professionally done video documentary on the race... I'm just telling you so you wont be afraid to click on the blurry video clips, because they are short...

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A race that was so extreme, they only did it once...

Kamchatka isn’t the kind of place you accidentally end up. It’s a long way from everywhere. Back then I’d already been racing professionally for years across the U.S., Canada, and Alaska, but this was different, on a whole new level...

You weren’t just racing other teams. You were racing daylight, trail conditions, and your own ability to make good decisions on very little sleep in the most brutal country I've ever seen. And given the places I've been, and the weather I've seen, that's saying something.

Here is a three-part 40 minute documentary, so if you don't have time, no offense taken, skip to the next ones...

It was a great idea for a race, but logistically it was a monster, with lots of serious Avalanche Dangers.  That's actually why I'm not in most of that documentary - we were too fast for the helicopter support teams, to get the film crews, to the finish lines... 

...Basically, everyone was racing everyone.  Because support was needed to clear the last team at every checkpoint, then beat the first team to the finish for that heat... and me and the French team, were the front runners. And we took a huge lead on everyone else...

...but basically, half way through, where we were supposed to have a day off, we got word we were getting 4' of new snow, with 40mph sustained winds, that was predicted to turn into Typhoon (Sudal) by the time we were done.

Here was the checkpoint before the storm...

...but that peace (and rest) was short lived. We got word by radio, the rest was over and we all supposed to evacuate, and prepare for the worst. That should we get lost in the coming ground storm, we should not count on immediate help, but hunker down, dig in, and they would find us.  But the choppers had to be evacuated immediately, before the big winds hit, so if you wanted to scratch, you could take the last one out...

Go big or go home?  All in. 

That SOUNDED cool, until I ended up going off the top of a mountain, with no way to stop, because we were on glare ice. So we went off the cliff side, with me breaking my right hand in the process, as I tried to ice hook into nothing.  Then I ripped off my brake on a wooden bridge crossing, so I drove the last 90 miles, one handed, through a typhoon, with no brakes.  How epic was that sentence? I ALMOST got lost once, but we were able to U turn and find the trail, thanks to my leaders Ginger and Gypsy.

...and the dog above is Mugsy, trying to get some rest at Checkpoint 5, right after I came in from the absolute craziest ride of my life, over alpine volcano passes, off the cliffs, over 2 river bridges, as the weather started getting truly grim...

By Checkpoint checkpoint 6, we were driving through the most epic ground storm I'd ever experienced. Check out how the checkpoint tent looks like its ready to fly away...

 

But when I finally crossed the tundra stretch and saw the tree line, I knew I had did it.  Then we hit the trail through the trees, which was perfectly groomed, for cross-country skiing, and my dogs lit up, and we loped the whole rest of the way until I lost sight of them in the crowd that swarmed us...

It was absolutely surreal. 

And the coolest part was as I came around the final corner, and my dogs were hauling ass on the final stretch, the crowd was DEAD silent - here comes the American, in Red, Black, and Blue, driving an almost all white dog team.

Usually, I always try to get off the runners and run the final stretch to the finish - because with the dogs unweighted, they can just pull... so you are taking giant steps, and it looks like you are super human:) Because the visitors always just see the beginning or the end, but never the real struggle... so if that is all they are going to see, then I want to burn into their mind what a real musher looks like, running in full gear, across a finish line... 

But I couldn't get off the sled; the dogs were running too fast... so for lack of anything else to do, to acknowledge the crowd, I looked waaaaay back over my left shoulder for a team I knew would not be there... then I looked over my right shoulder, just to make sure I wasn't running blind (because it would suck to lose 3rd, because I was showboating) and then I grabbed my hat with my broken hand (so I could hang on to the sled with the other) and 'doffed my cap', by punching it to the sky 3 times, while hanging my head in thanks and gratitude to the crowd, that had made this whole grand adventure worth doing...

And the whole fucking place... which was so quiet, all I had heard was flashbulbs and the breath of my dogs... just fucking ERUPTED in a huge literal wave of applause. 

Just like you hear at a stadium, but sweeping both directions away from me. Flashbulbs literally bursting, like an old black and white movie, and I was the star... 'poof'... 'poof, poof'... "poof, poof, poof, poof" ...and then I realized, that wasn't me dreaming... they really were using the old soviet era style cameras, with flashes that literally exploded after the first use. 

And they only had one shot, and they waited fort that one moment, just like me... 'poof'.  I think back then, only 2700+ people had ever even been there. Up to that point it was a Soviet Nuclear Sub port, and they didn't even let normal Russian go there.  (Which explained why I could find ZERO maps on the place to study.)  So I was the first American many of them had ever seen, and my team finished UNQUESTIONABLY harder than anyone's else's, running the entire last hill, like a fucking freight train.

And to my credit and dumb luck, when we crossed the finish line, I still had 8 dogs strong.  And for the record, I was only one of two teams to bring all 8 dogs back across same line, no worse for the wear.  And the other dude who did that, came in like 5th, 5 hours behind me. 

So even though I took third, I got the biggest ovation of everyone, by far, and the international ice was finally broken. And they welcomed me home, so warmly and treated me like I was not just a hero, but an honored guest...

The best video clips are either in the Adventure Watch video (not posted in here)...if you only have 1 minute... or the the full 40min documentary I posted above... but here is what it looked like after I got off the runners, standing in my boots.  You can see how long the line of fans is that I'm talking about...

So in the end, I came home with peeling windburn, broken hand, and a bronze medal for the U.S., and it was unquestionably the single best moment of my life. They raised the American flag behind my back. They shot fireworks over my head. They gave me flowers, a letter from the Mayor, a trophy for my sled, a medal for my main leader, $5k in cash, and a (Bronze) World Cup Trophy for the mantle.

And for one shining moment, I was everything I ever wanted to be...

The end.

 

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When Timing Really Matters

So let me explain why I told you all this, with respect to my watch designs. In a race like that, timing isn’t a suggestion. It’s the backbone of the whole event.

Every day was a cycle of:

• Starting a stage on time

• Hitting checkpoints before cutoffs

• Managing mandatory rest

• Feeding and booting dogs

• Fixing whatever the trail broke

You’re constantly counting forward and backwards:
“How long since I left?”
“How long until I have to be on the line again?”
“How much real rest do I have if I still need to fix X, Y, and Z?”

I was wearing a Sea Dweller. Great watch. But not for this.

A standard elapsed-time bezel is built to do one job really well: measure how long it’s been since you started something. In Kamchatka I needed it to:

• Count down to my next start

• Track elapsed time on the trail

• Help with rough planning between stages

Every time I re-set that bezel for a different job, I was juggling numbers in my head and trying not to screw up. It pulled attention at exactly the wrong moments—launching a team, checking dogs, sorting gear.

The watch wasn’t failing. I loved that watch. You couldn't hurt it. But it just wasn’t built for what I was asking it to do. If it was a dog, and I had a better one, I would have patted her on the head, and left her at home.

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Function First: The Seed of the OUTCAST

That race planted a simple thought I couldn’t shake:

What if the bezel could do more than one job without becoming a mess?

I wanted a tool that would:

• Handle elapsed time and countdown without constant mental gymnastics

• Give me a quick second time zone when I needed it

• Work as a simple field compass when electronics weren’t an option

• Survive cold, wet, and impact without complaining

Not a luxury piece. Not a status symbol. Just a watch that pulled its weight.

Years later, that turned into the O.U.T.C.A.S.T. bezel and dial (which stands for Outdoor Utility Timepiece Compass And Survival Tool) as well as the company name, without the dots.

• The bezel layout came straight out of that problem set: multiple scales that can be read, under stress, without needing a manual.

• The dial stayed clean and legible on purpose, with just enough information to be useful and not enough to slow you down.

I kept coming back to that feeling in Siberia—standing on the runners, dogs screaming to go, volunteers counting down in a language I barely understood, and me fighting my own watch to get simple answers.

The OUTCAST was built so you don’t have to do that.  The new T bezels are maybe more what I would have worn back then. I would probably gone for the new Vagabond Guide Watch, and anything besides the Marksman Shooting watch would be appropriate here. And if you notice, all my bezels have a countdown timer that terminates at an elapsed timer. 

Because this is what you need if you want to race ANYTHING.

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Mechanical on Purpose

One more lesson from that race: it reconfirmed trusting anything that needed a perfect environment to function.

I’ve watched:

• Electronics die in the cold

• Batteries fade at the worst time

• my sledgehammer sheer in half when I hit the maul head I was using to split wood at 45F, below. (I've seen -67F calculated with no windchill)

• both the plastic locks on my jeep door break, so the only way in and out was through the trunk.

That’s why I went with a mechanical NH35 movement. It’s not exotic. It’s not trying to impress anyone. It just works:

• No battery to freeze

• Serviceable almost anywhere

• Known by watchmakers all over the world

If something goes wrong, you fix it and keep going. That’s the whole point. 

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Why the Race Still Matters

Kamchatka only hosted that World Cup once, but it left a mark.

For me, it proved that design has to come from real problems in real conditions, not from a mood board. The OUTCAST isn’t a souvenir from the race. It’s a direct answer to the kinds of problems that show up when you’re on a clock that doesn’t care how tired you are.

So when you see the bezel scales and the dial layout, that’s where they came from:

• 200 miles of trail
• 72 hours on the clock
• Five volcanoes on the horizon
• The worst weather I've ever seen
• And me, tired of me trying to use my elapsed timer on my watch, as a countdown timer.

So now you know the long version of the story.  And the significance of the mountain and compass rose in my logo.  And the 'why' behind the watch, the company, and me.