Sunday, August 23, 2009

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

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Wednesday, August 19, 2009

August Fun


Summer Office Party:
Sailing Bellingham Bay on the Gato Verde


Baker above Bellingham



Sunset



Hidden Lake Peak in the North Cascades


Northwest Washington Fair

Front Row for Clint Black

Monday, August 10, 2009

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

Sunday, August 2, 2009

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.



Sunday, July 26, 2009

Excelsior and Canyon Ridges

On Saturday I volunteered with the Washington Trails Association to work on the Canyon Ridge Trail up by Mount Baker. I’ve never been here before. Our mission was to be safe, have fun, and repair a trail damaged by an avalanche. We got a lot done, but we also had to go to war with biting flies. Keep moving. It’s interesting who shows up for these work parties—there was a high school student fulfilling his culminating project responsibility, an unemployed Glacier 19 year old trying to get on with the Forest Service, a few 9 to 5ers, a foster parent with some kids, and an ultrarunner. I’ve written this before, but I think the world of WTA, and am a member—check them out at http://www.wta.org/. Trail reports are free.
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After the work party, I wanted to check out the area some more, while getting some high trail miles in. So, I ran/hiked to the tiny Damfino Lakes, up to Excelsior Ridge, and then over High Divide towards Welcome Pass. The guide books rate this one as easy, particularly from the Damfino Lakes side, where I started. There are loop trail possibilities. Excelsior Ridge caps out at about 6000 feet, but most of the gains for me were on the drive in—a 14.6 miles and 40 minute drive on a dicey road. The trail itself is very runnable and quite worthy. Ups and downs on a ridge above tree line. Wildflowers everywhere. A sea of mountains and ridges in view, with Baker and Shuksan in the foreground. This would be great place to catch a sunset. I stayed in the hills all day, but finally got chased off the high ridge by an approaching lightning storm, pretty rare around these parts. I had to hurry off—the storm moved in quick.
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Wildflowers---these were the real story of the day for me. Maybe the best I’ve ever seen, with just about all types representing. Lupines, tiger lilies, columbine, paintbrush, heather, thistles….I’ll pretend like I know what I was seeing. Not really--I’m botanically challenged. Every year I seem to forget and then have to go up high to re-learn. Some challenges are worth a lifetime of trying. Click on a field photo--they jump out more in the photos when blown up.
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Driving home, I happened upon a grand opening festival for a new artist’s co-op in Glacier Washington. Good music, coffee, and an old train car full of “Glacier Creations.” I’m partial to good coffee, art, and banjos. I did miss not doing White River, which was Saturday. I’m sure it was great. Just not the right weekend for me.
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Sunday, July 19, 2009

Ptarmigan Ridge

I left the office early on Friday and headed up to Artist Point, above the Mount Baker ski area. Artist Point opened very early this year due to the good weather we've been having. It was evening, but I got a chance to hike out to Ptarmigan Ridge and a bit of the Chain Lakes trail. This is a spectacular location, as gorgeous as anywhere. I pretended to run, but I didn't have it. The Chain Lakes loop would make a great run. I haven't had it all week--I've felt a bit off/ill since coming back from the Rockies. I think it's part fatigue from last weekend's effort, but more the switch in altitude again.
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I was often reminded of the North Cascades when I was in Colorado. We have more snow and glaciers, even if we're several thousand feet lower. Also, the occasional volcano. Otherwise, many of the high elevation valleys looked similar. I spotted 30 goats on Friday about a half mile away coming back on Ptarmigan Ridge. I think I've seen them there before, but its been a few years. Hike about a half mile in, before the trail junction for the Ridge and Chain Lakes, and look to the left across the valley on the hillsides. They looked like snow patches at first. I think they're regulars.
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I'm doubtful for White River, unless I get inspired mid-week. In fact, I'm not sure how my running is going to go over the next month, as I have several weekend things, but Cascade Crest is looming out there, and I'd like to finish that one. But, I need balance, not burn out--just chill, I suppose. I'm thinking of possibly doing Devil's Dome-42 miles--in the North Cascades in a couple weeks, or maybe Stormy up in Squamish. I also have to fit trail work in the next few weekends.

Junction


Mount Shuksan

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

HRDNF


I didn’t finish Hardrock. It just plain sucks, especially with it being such an anticipated event. I only made it to Grouse Gulch, mile 42. Wimp. I got there at midnight, zombie dead, having been a little lost and spacey coming off the 14k Handies Peak and 13k American Basin, not to mention all the other high points previous to these. I couldn’t eat anything--I felt deathly ill, unmotivated, and yes, short on good cheer. Pulling out was legit, considering the next aid station for doing so was 16 miles off, I was flailing, two hours behind the published 48 hour pace, and I felt like I was a health risk.
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So of course now I’m home and going through all sorts of second guessing. Probably natural, and admittedly, it's easy to lose track of how pathetic I actually felt in the moment. Still, I now think I could’ve rallied. At least I’d like to think I could’ve. Though behind the published 48 hour pace, I was still two hours ahead of the cutoff, and a few others finished who arrived later at Grouse. I think I just had a human moment, and although truly wasted, I think the right motivation could've got me going. In short, I could’ve wanted it more. It sucks to say that, but I know I had way too many anxieties about this race beforehand, because I really did want it, to the point that I wasn't enjoying or anticipating the race in the same way that I have with the other 100s I've done.
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I just didn't know what I was getting into--it was just stress, stress, stress--way disproportionate to what it should've been in the grand scheme of things. There was altitude, weather, navigation, agoraphobia, fitness, socks, shoes, poles or no poles, attack marmots. By the time the gun sounded, I just wanted to get it over with, which is not a winning mental posture when you actually hit the wall with such a difficult race. I think for 100s you have to make the decision before the gun goes that nothing--nothing--is going to stop you, and yes, that can end up making things a bit crazy, but that's the nature of the beast.
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Now that I have a better feel for Hardrock, I wish I wish I wish I had figured me out. I didn’t. So, as one friend said, I have “unfinished business.” I like that. I’ll finish this one eventually, though it may take me a few years to get back in. When I do, it'll probably be miserable conditions--unlike last weekend--but still, I'll figure it out. Unless I give up this whole ultra thing in the meantime, and take up another hobby, like model airplanes or stamps. I don't really think that will happen--I'll be back. (That's a quote from The Terminator, in case you never saw it.)
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The event itself was incredible, and the trip was a sweet vacation. I did in fact catch 42 miles of one of the toughest and most beautiful courses out there, and I also got out on other portions of the course, like Virginius Pass (above and below) and the cliffs above Ouray (below). I suspect the elevation for the portion I did averaged 12k. Make no mistake--this is indeed a very very hard race---I was wheezing frequently, walking much of the time, with wet feet from the streams. There were cliffs with hundred foot falls. There were creek crossings. There was the Continental Divide Trail. There were marmots, lightning in the high mountain valleys, and the best wildflowers I’ve ever seen. This is a one of a kind experience.
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I showed up a week early to acclimate. The race more or less took over the small town of Silverton, with runners everywhere. Acclimating includes movie night, trail marking parties, and scouting trips. There was one very awful evening at 11k feet in a six dollar tube tent. Elk burgers. Fake gun fights. A 1800s style parade, and the best fireworks I’ve ever seen on the fourth of July. Things that go boom. I met all sorts of most excellent people, some runners, and some not. The race organization was a marvel. All in all, it was a great time, and a world class vacation, at least to my tastes. My camera isn’t working so well--it has a glare thing going on---but here are a few photos.



"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go." - T.S. Eliot

Every day is a gift.

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