Heeling

Cascade Crest did a number on my right heel. Actually, I'm pretty sure somebody in my family would correct me on that, and say *I* did a number on my right heel. I felt a bit like an idiot limping around a week after the race. One friend was like, “So…why do you do this?,” and all I could do was make fun of myself. I’m not sure whether to be pissed at my socks, my shoes, or me.
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I got two blisters on the heel. One was obvious, with ripped skin wrapping all the way around the back of the heel. It hurt, but I wore open heeled shoes to accommodate it, which helped. The other one was less obvious—there was some sort of blister deep underneath the thick callus of the heel, and it made stepping painful. That got really old.
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I’m finally up and running again this weekend, as the deep seated blister finally healed up. I made it out into the Nookachamps this afternoon. Nothing remarkable, but I like to keep this blog up a bit to keep a record of my running, for better or worse. It was so nice to run with the good weather we had this weekend, and I ran pretty quick because the rest of me was ready to knock out some miles. The corn fields are high. I did see a dead eagle on the side of the road. Very sad. and something I’ve never seen. There are a lot of raptors in this area. I imagine it got hit while eating something in the road.
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In other news, I volunteered at the Skagit Flats Marathon this morning. There were a lot of participants this year—more than ever, I was told. Proceeds benefit scholarships for high school runners in the area. Skagit Runners runs the marathon on an all volunteer basis, and RD Terry S. really pays attention to the details. Special props to Stan, as today’s marathon was number 300 for him! I think it was his 30th Skagit marathon in a row.
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Also, for the record, the Skagit River is down about as low as I’ve ever seen it, and people are lining the banks, going after salmon. Kings are open this year, for the first time since 1992 I think. I don't really fish, but I feel like I'm missing an event.
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Next up...I’m going to take it relatively easy the rest of the year, but Baker Lake and Seattle are sure things, and I expect to get up to the North Cascades once or twice more.
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A Pioneer's Search

"A Pioneer's Search for an Ideal Home" is a classic Washington State pioneer story by Phoebe Judson, who with her husband was the first settler of Lynden, Washington, which is sort of in my neck of the woods. Phoebe and her husband traveled to the northwest in a wagon on the Oregon Trail, homesteaded, warred and then made friends with the natives, and lived off the land. It's really a terrific book, and describes much of the pre-settler ecology of the area. For example, wolves used to run wild in Lynden, and cougars were everywhere. I'm posting about the book now, because I just happened to learn that it is posted for free in it's entirety at the Washington State Secretary of States's site. The site is dedicated to Washington State history, and includes all sorts of interesting Washington State letters and writings.

Cascade Crest

Cascade Crest was last weekend. A great race, a long race--one hundred miles. Cascade Crest is a big loop around the Snoqualmie Pass/Lake Kachess area, with 50 miles or so on each side of I-90. It starts at 10 AM on Saturday, the last weekend in August, and the finish cutoff is 6 PM the following day. There is over 20k in elevation gain, and the same in loss. The organization and volunteers are amazing, and it is one of the best races, if not the best, in the Pacific Northwest.
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I had a tough day, but I finished, which is all I really wanted to do, having DNFed my last 100 attempt. I didn’t talk a lot about this race beforehand with friends, or participate in the training runs, opting for the North Cascades instead. I knew though that it would take an acute injury of some type to prevent a finish, because of the earlier DNF. I did get a blister the size of Texas on my right heel, and on some days that might’ve been a deal-breaker, or the Sunday sun, which absolutely slayed me, but somehow I managed.
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So—how’d I do? My finish time was 31:12, exactly the same time as two years ago. I was third from last, not very fast. I do have a buckle though, and I’m pretty happy about it. The buckle is very disco. Thank you to everyone who helped me get it.
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The weather on Saturday was perfect, NW gray, but I struggled from the get go, because my right shoe was cutting into my heel, ever slightly. I probably went 95 miles with a blister on my heel, and “blister” does not do this carnivore justice. It’s really bad, still. I also ate a ton at the pre-race breakfast at the Easton fire station, partly because the food was good, and partly in anticipation of a lengthy adventure. Fuel is good and all, but my systems were taxed, digesting breakfast, while trying to motor up the 5000 foot high Goat Peak, in the first 10 miles. I also managed to drop and bust a camera during this section. Life is so good.
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My favorite part of this run is the 25 or so miles on the Pacific Crest Trail, which begins somewhere around Mile 20. The Pacific Crest Trail is a trail going from Mexico to Canada. This section is single track, with thigh high huckleberry bushes, with some serious rockhopping in places. Lots of bees. The trees are tall, the views across ridges sometimes long. It’s a lonesome stretch, which is why I like it.
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Stampede Pass, Mile 33, was much anticipated by me for many miles. I didn’t have a crew, but this is the first drop bag site. My friend Rich happened to be volunteering there, and he set me up good. I was slightly spacey, and he pointed out I was shaking. Good catch. Dry clothes, half a Subway for dinner, and I was outta there. Go Terps.
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I wanted to get as far down the PCT as possible before dark, when things slow down. Once it got dark, I tried my headlamp, and--whoomp, there is is--one was busted. I tested them beforehand and put in new batteries--I have no idea. Fortunately, I had two extras. Good thinking, Lincoln. Soup at Meadow Mountain—thanks Scott T. and friends; a nice section with TC; and then two pierogie specials from the Seattle Run Co. at Ollalie Meadows.
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After Ollalie, the course makes its way over to Hyak Aid Station, the second drop bag site, at Mile 53. To get there, the next section used to go through a two mile pitch dark tunnel, but this was closed this year due to safety reasons. This year, we had the re-route over the Hyak ski slopes. It sucked. For me, at least. It was good, necessary even, and hard. Character building and all that blah blah blah. But at 12 midnight, in the cold mist, I wasn’t feeling it one bit, as I kicked rocks hard and lost toenails, one by one. That’s part of the 100 mile program, I get it, blah blah yadi yadi yadi. I kept on.
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Hyak was abuzz at 1:00 AM. Folks in Claus outfits. Rich was there again, and he totally set me up. I knocked down some soup, and got out of there pretty quick. The next 7 or so miles are logging roads, all up. I turned off my headlamp and marched, jogging occasionally, through the aggressive mist. I didn’t go heavy on caffeine, relying more on the caffeine from my Gu. What is the plural of Gu? Gus?
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Once up top, it’s another 7 or so down to Lake Kachess. I kept steady through all this time, not fast, but just doing what felt right, slingshotting back and forth with some friends. The stars came out around 4:30 AM. Eastern Washington clear skies are great.
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I was hoping to change socks at Lake Kachess, but no luck, since I hadn’t packed any, duh. I had a hole in the toe of my sock by this point, and my right heel was trashed. Lame. Kendall gave me a solid hello, and Eric B. was awesome, doing a quick inventory on my dropbag, which turned out to be pretty empty on things I needed. I hit the Trail from Hell, and actually was into it, hopping logs, jumping rocks, grabbing roots, with gorgeous Kachess to the right for the next 6 miles. I spent a lot of time in my teens at Kachess with my cousins, waterskiing, drinking gagmont, and I don’t know what else.
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I hit Mineral Creek around 8 AM. I did the complete pit stop here, finally, changing shirt, socks, getting food, putting on sunscreen, Vaseline, and whatever else. I tend to approach these long events more like a backpacker than a racer, making sure I have everything before setting out, and not worrying about the extra minute or two.
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The next 7 miles are up, a beautiful slog, up up to No Name Ridge. Somewhere on the three thousand foot climb, the sun came out and I began to fall apart. I just don’t do that well with sun. I kept on. Once on No Name Ridge, I jogged where I could, hiked most of the time. The Kachess Ridge Trail is known for Mt. Thorpe and the Cardiac Needles. And the views. The views are great. The Needles are climbs, steep climbs, but not that bad really, but for the fact they’re 85 some miles in. Attitude. The sun was absolutely killing me though. The views from Thorpe are fantastic, with Rainier in the distance, Lake Kachess in the foreground, and wildflowers up close. Check out Glenn’s photos.
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The final 11 miles of the run are pretty quick if you have it, and doable if you don’t. I proved the latter true, as I really really struggled to the finish, doing an old man’s trot, a dead man’s walk. I didn’t want to eat, or drink, and I was worried how I might react to an endurolyte pill. I had no spit in my mouth, and my stomach felt like it wanted to puke. But I kept on, and usually the incline was slightly down, and that helped some. I came in to Mile 95 an hour or two later than expected, and I was truly worried I had sun stroke. I was a total wasteoid. Bandur and Michael C. saved me though, pouring water down my back, putting ice in my cap, and sending me off. For the final few miles, I jogged, I hiked, I did the powerwalk thing where you swing your arms. Some more people passed me.
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About a half mile out, Rich was there, again!, and he brought it home with me. The finish line was absolutely awesome, with Charlie C., RD with Audrey, on the microphone, and many friends there cheering me on, and later, visiting with me, looking out for my well-being. Very cool, and thank you. Once I crossed that line, I beelined directly for the fire station, to be out of the sun, and I spent the next hour in a chair with a bag of ice on my head, a frozen can of Blackcherry Shasta in my lap, and my feet in a paint bucket full of cold water.
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The National Anthems

Goat Peak

Runner in the Mist

Early ridgeline after Goat Peak

In The News

The Seattle Times published two front page feature articles on the North Cascades in the past couple weeks. One article concerns the pika, which is currently being considered for threatened listing under the Endangered Species Act. (While they're at it, they should list the glaciers, which are melting away more and more every year.) Pika is apparently pronounced "pike-a". A little girl corrected me last weekend--I thought it was "peek-a"-- kids know too much. The pika is sort of like a tiny rabbit, although I've always sort of associated them with marmots, because they both live in the high country. The other article, also by Lynda Mapes, is on wildflowers. Along with the articles, the Times posted a nice four minute "virtual hike." Links below.

Feds Review Mountain Dwelling Pika for Threatened Species List

High Country in Bloom

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Virtual Hike in the North Cascades

August Fun

Summer Office Party:

Sailing Bellingham Bay on the Gato Verde

http://www.gatoverde.com/

Baker above Bellingham

Sunset

Hidden Lake Peak in the North Cascades

Northwest Washington Fair

Front Row for Clint Black

Devil's Dome Loop

My friend Mike Chastain and I ran the Devil’s Dome Loop in the Pasayten Wilderness on Saturday, circumnavigating the 9000+ foot Jack Mountain, and finishing up on the East Bank Trailhead on Ross Lake. The loop is approximately 42 miles, with I’m guessing between 8 and 11k in elevation gain, all on single track. I’ve wanted to do it for about five years now, as I had heard enough to know it was tough, isolated, and spectacular. Mike was game, and a most excellent running partner, never once complaining when I putzed, which I did frequently. Putzing on this day was all about making sure we made it to the finish safely, because we cast our line out pretty far.
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The trailhead is off Highway 20, roughly 1.5 hours east of Mount Vernon if you drive fast. We met at my place at 5 AM--I knew this would take a while. It’s possible to start at either the Canyon Creek Trailhead or the East Bank Trailhead. We went with the East Bank, actually beginning at 7:20 AM, with a pleasant three mile warm-up jog along the crystal clear Ruby Creek (which we soaked in afterwards). At Canyon Creek, we began our first five or six mile ascent, climbing from 1900 feet up to above 5000 feet. Our top elevation for the day was 6900 feet, on Devil's Dome, and so although more climbing was to come, this first climb was probably the biggest slog of the day. We expected it, and just took it in, enjoying the morning, chattering.
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Midway up, we entered the Pasayten Wilderness. Under U.S. law, wilderness areas are federal lands set aside by law, where human activities are restricted to scientific study and non-mechanized recreation (i.e. trailfools). Horses and trail runners are permitted, motors are not. Most U.S. wilderness is in Alaska, which I'd like to explore more some day--the ANWR in particular is a dream for me. When I think of wilderness, I think, no roads. I think Utah drylands, Alaskan frontiers, the far corners of British Columbia and Alberta. I’ve quoted Abbey on wilderness here before—we need to know it's there, even if we never visit it. As for me, I want to go deep at least once per year. I told Mike I thrive on this stuff, and I really do—there was a point in this run where we were 20 miles from the nearest road. Our own little Into The Wild. However, unlike Chris McCandless (who, btw, I actually ran cross country against in high school in VA), I carried a satellite SPOT 911 signal, just in case, along with a few other safety items. I don’t particularly like the product as far as its tracking function goes, but it provided some peace of mind for worst case scenarios.
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We stopped to filter water for the first time shortly after entering the Pasayten, using steripens, which are a bit slow, but are very light and just downright cool. The pen fits in the front pocket of my vest, along with a Cliff Bar and some other goodies. After roughly three hours in, we leveled out a bit, and ran the trails through some mid-tier meadows. The Devil's Park. No signs of human life, but birds everywhere, bees buzzing loud, and trees spread out through grassy fields, with wildflowers of all sorts fading from the recent bloom.
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Soon, the ascent began again, with the trees thinning out as we climbed above the tree line. The trail angled across wide open, grassy fields, some wildflowers hanging on, such as the red paintbrush (looks like a brush), bluebells, and what I think was lupine. The Devil's Loop is known as a top-notch trail for wildflowers, because of the high open fields, but we hit the tail end of the bloom, as we've had record heat these past few weeks. Eventually our climb reached into the early morning clouds, as the trail changed from hard pack dirt to steep slopes of shale, described on the Green Maps as “difficult for stock.” Think moonscape, with the clouds cutting across the slope, as we ran through the mist. We descended quickly into another valley, found a rare creek, and loaded up on water again. There were a few moments of uncertainty as to our direction, but big picture, we knew to keep left, since we were running around a mountain.
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In advance of this run, I was probably most concerned about the availability of water. The trail names gave clues—Dry Creek Pass, Devil’s Park, Devil’s Pass, Devil’s Dome—all suggesting water might be tough to find. The Devil lives in Hell, you know. I pictured miners and stock, rotting in the sun. Didn't want that to happen. The maps and trail reports weren’t encouraging either. As such, we were careful to stop and refill whenever we hit a good creek, even if we had water. On the other hand, I was also sort of casual--I went with two water bottles, rather confident we'd hit some sort of puddle at least once every five miles, which was true. There was one time where I truly filled from a puddle, described on the map as a spring.
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Another thing remarkable about this run was there just weren’t many people or signs. It was true wilderness, as good as it gets around here, with miles and miles and miles with little indication of human existence, excepting the trail itself. Very cool, as long as things are going well, which they were, but it also slowed us down just a bit now and again, because it made the backcountry nature of the run that much more real. I think we saw maybe two signposts during the whole 30 miles we were in the Pasayten. We didn’t get lost, but the complete lack of signage was a bit of a surprise—it’s not like that on the Ross Lake side, where I’ve spent more time. Definitely no confidence ribbons past a junction.
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Also, in the whole 42 miles of running, we only encountered two groups, and the first encounter wasn’t until about 2:15 PM, and about 25 miles in. Fortunately, these folks were camped at perhaps the most critical junction, Devil’s Pass, which we didn’t initially recognize as such and were headed right past, though we had been looking for it for three hours. We stopped up cold when we saw the tent. People! These kind folks from Twisp were camped out for the week, and seemed just as surprised to see us. I thought of Tom Hanks in Castaway.
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Devil’s Pass took forever to get to, but the trail turned much faster thereafter. We ran and shuffled along, above 6000 feet on the high, relatively flat Devil's Ridge, with mountains in all directions. The running was easy, and we reached Devil’s Dome, the high point on the loop, much faster than we expected, so much so we weren't sure at first if it was the actual dome. No signs, of course, just a big pile of rocks on top of a very high fifty foot wide plateau, with panoramic views of the dry country. Jack Mountain, the focus of the loop, came into full view during this section, with a huge glacier below its peak.
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Life was easy after Devil’s Dome, as we began a steady but very runnable descent to Ross Lake. Sick downhill, and approximately eight miles of it, from the dome. Both Mike and I caught a toe a few times on the downhill, stumbling forward hard, but we lived. I had been promising Mike the whole day--usually during moments when I struggled and we seemed to be getting behind--that the East Bank Trail would be an easy finish-up to run, and that we'd make good time there, as I had ran it earlier this year. This needed to prove true, as we made it down to Ross Lake sometime after 6 PM, and we still had ten to twelve miles to go, with dusk creeping in fast. We had headlamps, but I was hoping to beat the dark.
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The East Bank Trail is gravy. We hit it, taking off on a pretty steady clip, skirting the bank of Ross Lake, crossing suspension and log bridges, amidst old growth and second growth, making great time on the very soft, needle laden trail. Ross Lake is a big lake, roughly 30 miles long, stretching into Canada. It's lights out gorgeous, with its emerald waters; it's one of my favorite places. The trail along the lake is unbelievably soft, trail running nirvana, and at some points goes right under a blasted cliff shelf, right above the water. Though much tired, I was loving it. I hit one bad patch in the latter stages of this run with my stomach, but that passed, and before we knew it, the Ruby Creek bridge came into sight, just short of 9 PM, with probably only ten minutes left of light. A tired drive back, with a stop for ice cream and hot chocolate in Marblemount. Brilliant day.

Pictures below, a couple links here:

Additional pictures

http://www.nps.gov/noca/planyourvisit/loop-backpacks.htm

http://www.trails.com/trail_reviews.aspx?trailid=HGW191-015
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Paintbrush and wild thistles

Early meadow near Devil's Park

"Difficult for stock"

Dry country

The approach to Devil's Dome

Jack Mountain

Filling up

Signs of fire on trail

Suspension bridge over Devil's Creek

East Bank Trail on Ross Lake

Arts

I probably need to go run right now, get in my weekend miles, since I've been lame so far this weekend, but it is so hot out. The Pacific Northwest set heat records earlier this week, with Bellingham getting up to 96 degrees, and Seattle hitting 103, both all time records. I cannot believe that in all of history Bellingham's highest temperature was 94 degrees, until now. Those records suck. But temperature is weird--96 degrees around these parts seems a lot hotter than elsewhere. Around here, everything effectively slows down when it gets this hot. I know I don't feel normal in the head or the body. I'm not into heat.
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So.... in this much anticipated installment of "Before the Deluge"---which, btw, is a title I chose quickly for this blog, obliquely referencing running, environment, music, water, and the end of the world, or maybe this weekend---
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Saturday morning--volunteered at the Anacortes Art Dash. I volunteered at a friend's behest, and then said friend told City that I knew everything about running a race, that I am a lawyer, and so everything would be very organized. I run races, but I don't really run races, at least yet. Maybe someday. I quickly called another friend who does, and so responsibilty properly shifted. I got up at 6 AM, helped set things up, and then ran the timers. Good volunteer work, and nice to be out in such a beautiful town early Saturday. I followed that up with a visit to the Anacortes Farm Market. The Skagit is going bonkers right now with berries and greens--the Farmer's markets are full, as is my fridge, and friends are giving stuff out like crazy. I'm cooking all sorts of quick stir frys, and probably should learn how to freeze/store things, but I am so busy.
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After Anacortes, I headed down to Seattle and caught the Kenny Chesney Sun Carnival Tour with Dan, my cousin's husband, and only other person in the fam who admits to listening to country. The show was at Qwest, tickets were anywheres from $75 to $500, and it was a nuts lineup as far as popular country radio goes. Sort of like one of those old Monsters of Rock shows at the Kingdome. The show was a 7 hour marathon, probably 40k in attendance. Our seats were ok, but we were far out. The crowd-watching was good, but I didn't see a a lot of ultrarunners.
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I liked it. All the acts were hitting, but the show really picked up steam as the evening set in, with Sugarland and Kenneth Cheseny cleaning up. Everyone covered popular rock songs, along with their hits. Lady Antebellum: Hurt So Good. Miranda Lambert: I Love Rock and Roll--and she should cut this as a single--really pulled it off, with her pink guitar. Montgomery Gentry: a Kiss rock song. Sugarland: Pearl Jam's Betterman, Madonna's Holiday. Jennifer Nettles is amazing---real stage presence. Chesney was terrific, taking a chairlift from midfield to get to the stage at the start, sort of like Motley Crue. From there he was non-stop for two hours, running all over the place, knocking out his hits. His encore was all covers, with some guests: Take It Easy, The Joker, a Marley song, Blister in the Sun, and finishing with U2's With or Without You.