Run Rabbit 50 Miler - Steamboat Springs, CO

Silver Creek Fire as seen from the trail

Are you ever exhausted but unable to sleep? This race report comes to you in that frame of mind, my apologies in advance.

CR inspired me to write down some thoughts on the race, and I thought it better to do it now before I romanticize or forget what it was really like.

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Twelve hours before the race, at the pre-race briefing, two grandfatherly race directors made grandfatherly jokes and informed a small crowd of people that the course may have to be rerouted. The Silver Creek Fire had jumped the Continental Divide and was encroaching on the course. Options were to either start at 3am, reroute to some variation of the 100 mile course, or wait and see. At 5:59am the next day, in the dark, on some dirt road near the base of the Steamboat Springs ski slope we were corralled to line up, informed "the course has been rerouted, be nice to each other, you have 30 seconds, any questions?"

Any game plan I had went out the window, but then I'm not sure you can have a game plan for an ultra other than to roll with it. Aid stations were now spaced 8-9 miles apart, slightly farther than the 5-6 mile gaps of the original course, this turned out to matter to me a great deal emotionally. 

The first and last six miles of the race were the same, heading out we climbed the mountain, a long dirt road gaining 3500 ft of elevation. Then into to woods for 8 miles of rolling technical trail. This was perhaps my strongest section of the day. Trailed by half a dozen men and convinced they were going to come crashing down on me as we navigated the rocky downhill, I spent the next hour trying to get away from them without falling. From here it leveled out and became quite uninteresting. Miles of primitive, rolling dirt roads on the edge of tree line.  Some boy who rides bikes with my good friend and coworker ran a few miles with me and became my only real interaction of the day. The heat didn't start to bother me until mile 23, and by this point the dirt road had led us back to some nice, highly exposed, single track. Somewhere around mile 25 I caught my friend Andrew who had started the 100 mile race the previous morning. Quick math told me this was a rough day for him. We shuffled along for a mile and a half together, Andrew slowly unwinding the night's trails before he insisted I leave him. The trail took a steep uphill grade at this point and the 9 miles from 27-36 were some of the least pleasant of the day. From here things were largely uneventful. I ate a few salt tabs, made it back to the mountain, and navigated 6 miles down the dirt road we'd run up that morning, decidedly less enjoyable than I had been imagining all day. Turns out 3500 ft of elevation loss isn't much easier on the legs, especially after 46 miles. I crossed the finish line some time near 5pm, the grandfatherly race director hugged me, and all the emotions I had been repressing the past ten hours came out in giant tears. 

Overall, the race was low drama, I'm happy with how I managed nutrition and fatigue. FDK told me after her 50: there are going to be some easy miles, take what you can. For the most part that proved to be a highly effective strategy. 

A few random thoughts:

• CR: does Tailwind make you thirsty?? I added half a scoop to my 1.5 liter bladder, I was too worried about the heat to go all day with only water. I think this was the right choice to replace salts, electrolytes, etc, but damn it made me thirsty. 

• True discipline is getting to an aid station in 87 degree heat and not drinking a liter of ice water. Around mile 27 my stomach stopped processing water as fast as I was drinking it and I was still thirsty, which left me with a sloshy stomach and a dry mouth.

• Random things would hurt and then after a few miles, with no explanation, go away. I am unsure if this is mental or if my body actually fixed itself. My back was bleeding from my pack chaffing the skin up to mile 15 and then it stopped being an issue. I rolled my ankle hard somewhere around mile 27, I thought my achilles was going to pull apart my heel all over again, but a few miles later that pain also disappeared.

• My nutrition for the day was: a smoothie-filled cliff bar, half by mile 6 the other half by mile 13, a peanut butter sandwich spread out between miles 23-37, a few lemon-lime salt tabs, and ~2.5L of water.

• No one talked to me out there. I ran the majority of the race alone. This is the first ultra where I lacked any real camaraderie with the other runners. I missed the witty banter and dark humor.

• This course is not as stunning as the Grand Traverse. The Grand Traverse was a joy. If you wish to run an ultra in Colorado I cannot recommend it enough. 

Sunrise as we ran up the ski slope

Long Lake - good lord was I happy to make it back to this aid station, mile 37

post-race doggos, waiting for Andrew to finish

Pear Lake Hut?

by fdk (with a few comments by CR)

Unless you count three-sided shelters in the Catskills I’ve never done a proper hut trip, and as I’ve been dabbling more in winter sports I’ve been increasingly interested in the promise of a lovely little shelter out in the wilderness surrounded by snow to play in. You don’t have to carry a ton of stuff or sleep on the snow, and there’s a stove and wood? Too sweet! So, back in November 2017 when CR started planning a trip to Pear Lake Hut in the Sequoia National Park backcountry I was in. People love Pear Lake for the lovely alpine skiing around the hut, but I figured I’d try to apply my nor-dork skills the best I could, and get to hang out around the hut either way. This is not how it all shook out.

The old saying goes that when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. This weekend it was more like if life calls to say there are no lemons to be had, you’d better start planning some tasty non-citrus beverages, because you’re still gonna be thirsty! The planning went awry from the beginning, with the seven initially interested people slowly winnowing down,  with some additions and substitutions, to three. There was so little snow through February that we thought the whole thing might be a bust, but then a miracle March and April brought a good late snow pack. But the final blow to the plan came on Friday afternoon when CR received a call from the NPS informing her that the Pear Lake Hut would be closed this weekend for “classified reasons”, and that no one had died, but giving no more information to protect the identities of the those involved. The speculation was endless: wild party? Broken snow bridge? Hantavirus? (CR:Interestingly, GG wants to add that we should add carbon monoxide poisoning to the differential diagnosis, maybe the hut is having a ventilation problem.)

By then I was already in the Bay Area enjoying a lovely cruise up Mt Tam with Billy

and then popping up at the Palo Alto train station. CR and I picked up some backcountry XC skis for me and called the third member of the weekend crew, the lovely Rachel, to tell her the bad news about the hut. We met in a Stanford parking lot and pulled up a mental map of the state of CA to decide what we were going to do instead! After considering preferences (thumbs down on winter backpacking, skiing over climbing,thumbs down on crowds) and available gear (thank goodness for CR’s gear closet) we had a realization: Spring is volcano season! So we headed north to some of our favorite volcanos.

For almost six months of the year the main park road through Lassen is closed for snow, and you can camp for free on the snow at the visitors center and travel by foot into the huge park. We decided to drive out there Friday night and then climb the highest point in the park, Mt Lassen, on Saturday. It bears mentioning that on the way out there we got some really delish Indian Pizza. If you have not experienced this delicacy I cannot recommend it highly enough. The butter chicken pizza is quite a treat, and will still be welcome the next day. Also, Lassen is in the middle of nowhere and the stars are amazing.

With the road closed the trip up to Mt Lassen is long— 13 miles, much of it on snow, with ~5000ft of gain. We suited up with our skis only to discover that the road after the locked gate started out very plowed.

After schlepping skis ~3 miles up a plowed road (including some cool geothermal features) (CR:BOILING MUDPOTS!! The name is worth mentioning)

we finally hit snow, and skiing up this road was the only time I managed to put my Nordic skills to any use, and even then it was a mixed bag!

After coming to Helen Lake we turned to head up the mountain for real. CR and Rachel were doing well skinning up, and I put some skins on my XC skis for a while, but at some point I bailed, ditched my skis, and proceeded to boot my way up. Honestly, it was more efficient.

The climb was serious business and I found myself wishing, not for the last time, that I had brought an ice axe with me. CR says a ski pole is a poor man’s ice axe, but I went to school for a long time to be able to buy such luxuries as an actual ice axe, which was back at home, because the hut trip wasn’t supposed to include much actual mountaineering! (Of course CR had an extra ice axe, which I made sure to bring along on day two.)

Rachel is smarter than the average bear and wanted to save some energy for the way down, so she paused part way up the final ridge while CR and I continued to kick steps up to the summit to take in some really lovely views including the neighbor to the northwest, Mt Shasta!

Summit Selfie

Then CR put her skis on, and I continued to walk, now downhill. What can I say, I don’t have a lot of skills.  The snow had softened a lot, so plunge stepping was more secure than I expected, but I was still paying very close attention to my steps when CR swooped up behind me, sending a few little snow wheels cruising past me. Wheee! Rachel dropped into the gully and skied down with CR, and I finally stopped being such a weenie and sat down to glissade the last few hundred feet. It really was a lot of fun, even if I felt like I was my own personal wet slide. Here's Rachel doing some actual skiing.

After finally making it back to the parking lot we saddled up and headed off to get milkshakes en route to volcano number two— Mt Shasta!

We decided that the crowds on avalanche gulch didn’t seem that interesting, and I wanted to try some very easy AT skiing, so on Sunday we worked our way around to the west side of Shasta, up into Hidden Valley below the junction between Shasta and Shastina, at about 9000ft. We headed up through Horse Camp with me on snowshoes and CR and Rachel skinning. We moved up as we worked around the mountain and started traversing some big gullies, switching to crampons and ice axes as we moved higher up, with gradually increasing exposure, and beautiful views.

Trinity Alps in the distance

Rachel with the Trinity Alps.  She's quite fond of those mountains!

We met a very cute Australian Cattle Dog that seemed to be having no trouble at all in the snow!

Blue loved to fetch snowballs

For as long as you would throw them. 

Hidden Valley is a lovely little gem of a spot, and we should plan to camp up there someday.

Walking into Hidden Valley

CR was so excited that she raised her arms. 

While we hung out and enjoyed a little piece of paradise I borrowed CR’s skis and tried downhill skiing for the first time in ~15 years. It was fun! And even though I couldn’t figure out turns on my backcountry XC skis I was able to handle a few gentle ones on AT skis.

Isn’t this how everyone learns to ski?

We made our way down on softer, easier snow with a combo of crampons, skis, glissading, and running, and really enjoyed losing all that altitude we had worked so hard for.

Now, Mt Shasta is the point on the N/S line where I start to feel the pull of Oregon, and while we were gear sorting in the parking lot I realized that I could just make the Greyhound bus headed up to Portland. After a little bit of rally car driving by CR I got on a northbound bus headed home, still buzzing from the sun and snow.

I think we managed to make some really delicious volcano snow punch (which should be a tiki drink) out of this weekend, and we get to pick a weekend for Pear Lake next winter without entering the lottery! Clear your schedule now! Here’s the real question: What happened at Pear Lake Hut??

Thanks for a great weekend, ladies!

Moab in the off season

This is poorly written, but sometimes we go on trips and never write anything down. For the benefit of our future selves I added some notes on our recent trip to Moab. Thank you for coming out to Colorado <3

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I signed up for the Moab "Ultra" under the pretense of upholding a challenge: run one trail race every month of 2018.  Trail races in January are scarce, you almost have to go to the desert to find a decent course. Moab offered not only a quirky half marathon but the opportunity to see an endangered monument and climb some of the most renowned routes in southern Utah. Plus I had a pretty good feeling it wouldn't take much to get the WCAC women out here for the ride.

Three women, from three different states flew to Denver for this trip. I cannot tell you how awesome it is to have friends willing to fly to my home state and drive 12+ hours to run, hike, climb to the point of exhaustion. Who can say that??? You ladies are the best.

We drove from DIA to Grand Junction for a shake out (cough-6mi-cough) run before piling into the car for 90 more minutes to Moab.  All told the trip out was ~6.5 hours. FDK's article on the benefits of tripping on acid was greatly appreciated entertainment.

Utah only serves 3.2% alcohol on tap - weak beer, burgers, and bed were in order. We got up at 7a for the race the next day. Much to my delight the weather warmed significantly before the start. If you run the Arches Half Marathon know that pacing yourself is a poor strategy. 5 miles in you'll hit 6 miles of slick rock, and unless you are CR this surface demands a slackening in the pace. Note to 2019 Kelsey: go out hard, recover on the rock, then bring it home the last two miles.

Once the race was over we headed home for real breakfast and an 8 mile hike through the canyons and arches of Arches National Park called Devil's Garden. The "most strenuous hike in the park" is not as daunting as it sounds. Four women who ran 20+ miles in the morning completed the 8 mile loop in a little over 3 hours. 

Crack climbing in Indian Creek was on the agenda for Sunday. We're lucky to have resident climbing expert in CR. Her patience and expertise are unmatched and I wouldn't have been able to berate crack climbing sufficiently without her.

Cracks are not my game. It doesn't make much sense to shove my hands and feet into a tiny crack and pull myself up repeatedly. I have a lot to learn in this technique, give me crimp-y holds and open slabs any day (in 2018 I vow to learn proper slab climbing outside and invite you ladies back to Eldorado Canyon). Regardless, Nat and I, shepherd by CR and FDK, were able to complete a few beautiful cracks. The view didn't suck either and left me wishing we had another day to explore Indian Creek.

CR got to live the dream in the desert for a few more days, so we dropped her at a random house in Moab and drove away, back home to catch God-early flights on Monday morning. (Instagram suggests CR met up with GG and had a grand time in the canyon lands).