It wasn't pretty, but .... Peterson Ridge Rumble (almost) 40 miler

Last year, I fell in love with the Peterson Ridge Rumble 40 miler.  I had such a great race there and was on a great runner's high for quite a while afterwards.  When I was finally given the okay to go back to running by my Physical Therapist (in mid-November), I made a quick calculation and decided that sure, Peterson would be doable this year.  Four months would be plenty of time to train.

For the most part, my knee has been feeling pretty good.  Not 100%, but not bad enough for me to get worried.  On the other hand, I've had a few other issues pop up, which limited my training some, but I had a few good 4 hour runs in the woods, and Peterson is an "easy" 40, so last Sunday I found myself once again starting down the dirt trails and roads near Sisters High School.  I normally have three goals for a race - the great day (in this case, matching my previous PRR time of 6:43, about 10 minutes per mile), the good day (under 7 hours), and the hey, at least I came out here and finished day.

The first five miles were flat and a bit uphill.  I was running with Mac Smith.  It was his first 40 and he wanted to run at about the pace I ran last year.  We were definitely running faster.  I tried to slow up a bit, but was feeling good, and my heart rate seemed fine, so I thought that I'd just go with it.  ...and then I hit the first downhill.  Not even a significant downhill, but enough that both quads cramped up until they felt like tiny little knotted balls.  Well, this wouldn't do.

I pulled off the trail, stretched a bit.  Yep, still hurt.  A lot.  Shuffled a bit more, pulled off the trail, stretched.  Yep, still cramped, still in pain.  ugh.  At the first aid station I grabbed an S-cap and piece of banana, then slowly jogged forward.   By the time I made it to the next aid station (mile 9ish?  another S-cap and piece of orange) the quads had started to relax and I was able to run a bit more normally.  I'd lost a lot of time by now, but figured if I kept up with the calories and salt, I should be able to come in at about 7 hours.

The day was gorgeous.  Blue skies, high 60's (maybe low 70's?).  Amazing views of the Cascades.  I kept trying to relax into the run, enjoy the views, breathe in the wonderful pines, enjoy the simplicity of putting one foot in front of another.  I did have moments like that -- but unfortunately this was a race more about perseverance. 

I felt the first wave of nausea around mile 18  - or 19?  - maybe 20?  (the awesome volunteers working the aid stations weren't entirely sure what distance they were at, and everyone's Garmins were giving different readings).  I could not figure out what was wrong with me.  Sure, I was a bit undertrained, but I didn't expect it to affect me this way.  Maybe not enough calories for breakfast?  ...but I had some gel from my flask every 30 minutes and was eating decently at the aid stations - amazing how good peanut M and Ms, fritos, pb and j, and cold boiled potatoes dipped in salt (which I now understand the appeal of) can taste - so seemed to be getting in quite a few calories.  I was drinking regularly from my pack (Nuun), taking S-caps, and had at least one if not a few small cups of Coke at each aid station, but maybe I still wasn't getting enough water and electrolytes? 

So, instead of focusing on finishing 40 miles, I thought about getting to the next aid station.  Then the next, ....  and then it wouldn't be too long until I got to the finish, right?  I was so happy to see Caballo, Osito, and Jan at the second-to-last aid station.  So grateful for not just the Nuun refill, cups of coke, and S-caps, but the smiles and encouragement.  Just about everyone around me was suffering a bit, so there was camaraderie around that.  I finally hit the long, mostly downhill stretch to the finish and managed to pick up my pace a bit.  Sooner than I expected, I saw the trail sign marking 1 mile to the High School, then was 'running' through the parking lot and unto the track.  Amazingly, the man who finished just ahead of me actually jumped the hurdle in the middle of the track.  I almost tripped just watching him.  I crossed the finish line in 6:53:28.  Okay, slower than last year, but still under 7:00.  ....and then Ardilla pointed out that the course was actually short - only 37.5 miles.  oh.  Well, hey, that's still 11 minutes/mile on average.  Not too bad considering last September I thought I may have to go under the knife.

Many thanks to all my friends who made me smile despite the suffering, especially Locadork (who was the 1st place woman!) for looking after me at the end and Ardilla for sending her after me in the locker room with a can of soda.

Next up, the Mac 50km in May.  Then Siskiyou Out-Back 50km in July, Where's Waldo 100km in August, then - I'm getting married!  It's going to be a good summer.

Recovery

Today I ran 9 miles in the woods.  I've been back to running for the last month or so, gradually working up from 30 minutes a day to today - my longest/hilliest run yet.  Despite the fact that I was running through a cloud for most of the run, it was absolutely wonderful.  Wonderful to hear the sound of my feet on gravel, dirt, and decaying leaves.  Wonderful to be surrounded by the deep greens and dark browns of an Oregon forest in December.  Wonderful to have those fleeting moments of feeling simply alive.

The past few months post-injury have been challenging.  The physical recovery has been hard, sure, but the biggest challenge has been emotional and mental.  Running has become a large part of who I am and I have missed my weekly routines of meeting up with my friends for a few hours in the woods.  When I'm running alone, running soothes me - I process my thoughts or even better, just get out of my head and breath.  Above all of that, on days like today, I come back to the thought that it is experiences like this, places like this, where I feel the most spiritual, the most in touch with something else beyond me. 

“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to the body and soul.”  ~John Muir

Yin and Yang (a.k.a. our vacation in British Columbia)

Ross and I decided to treat ourselves to a two week vacation this year. Start off with a week-long backpacking trip on the West Coast Trail on Vancouver Island, then have a more civilized week touring Victoria, Vancouver, and places in between. A nice balance of challenge and luxury, relaxation and activity.

If you're just interested in the pictures, I took a ton more pictures that didn't make it onto the blog.  You can check them out by clicking this link, or watching the slide show at the top.

We had a great start to the trip, being present for Laurel and John's wedding in Seattle and staying with Amanda, Nick, and Amelia. The next day we left early to drive to Port Angeles to catch the ferry to Vancouver Island. There was very little traffic, and our early arrival gave us enough time to visit a bookstore and locate an outdoor gear store just a few blocks from the ferry line-up. The store opened at 12:15, which gave us just enough time to find and purchase a new pump for Ross's campstove and hurry back to load the truck onto the ferry.

With Amanda at Laurel and John's wedding

From the ferry, we headed out to Port Renfrew ("A" on the map). The highway between Victoria and Port Renfrew was marked as a main highway, but that was a generous description. Super narrow, windy, and a lot of one-lane bridges. Pretty, though.  It was a nice night, so we went for a long walk along a back road before eating dinner and going through our packs one last time.

West Coast Trail Day 1
It started raining somewhere in the middle of the night.  I didn't really think of the consequences of the rain until we walked down the ramp to the dock early the next morning to load onto the sea taxi taking us up to the north trailhead in Bamfield (near the 'Pacific Rim National Park' marker on the map).  The sections of the dock were moving in independent directions, making it a bit challenging to get to the boat, let alone get onto it.  Our boat captain was cheerful and helpful, though, and after a family of 3 joined us, we were off  -- into more than 7 foot swells.  The ride was fun for the first 20 minutes.  Then the nausea hit; that was with taking anti-nausea pills.  Everyone except the captain felt sick.  Three of us were over the rails.  I ended up spending most of the 3 hour boat ride sitting in the very back where although it wasn't dry, it moved the least.  A few whales supposedly passed by the boat.

Happy (and clean) faces starting the trail

Buoys marking camping spots (our tent is tucked in the trees)

We got into Bamfield near 10am and where taken by a local to the park trailhead about 5km (3.1 miles) from town.  Ross and I had thought that we might have to wait a day or two to get our walk-on permits.  (Most of the permits are handed out ahead of time.)  However, the weather was good for one thing - no one else was trying to get walk-on permits.  We tried to dry out our clothes as much as we could while waiting for our orientation.  While we waited we saw several people coming off the trail come in, soaked and muddy - a preview of what we was coming for us.  By the time we hit the trail at 2pm, the rain had pretty much stopped and we just had to deal with the drippy fog. Our hike to Michigan campground I12 km) was pretty uneventful.  Some on the beach, some in the forest - some nice big old trees, a lot of mud, and our first exposure to the ladders.  There were a lot of people at the campground - we later found out that rangers had been by when it was raining and told everyone heading south to stay put.  The rivers and creeks that we had to cross where too high to cross safely for about 24 hours.  After our busy day, we easily went to sleep to the sound of the ocean.

West Coast Trail Day 2
We woke up to a marine layer that burned off by 10, leaving us with blue skies and sun for the rest of the day.  Today was our first exposure to the true nature of the trail - more adventure/obstacle course than hiking trail.

Standard trail & boardwalk conditions

Tons of ships wrecked just off the coast - and are why they made the trail.

Most of the boardwalks were falling apart and all of them were super slick.  More roots and mud.  At one point, Ross slipped on a bridge and almost knocked his front teeth out.  At another, I discovered that what appeared to be a solid edge to the trail wasn't and found myself almost falling down a cliff.  Luckily I was able to grab some roots with one hand and one foot.  Ross was there before I knew it to help me scramble back up.  It would have been a long way down.

On the positive side, we saw A LOT of whales today!  At one point, at least eight playing off the coast.    Some sea lions, too.  And the scenery was amazing.

Tsusiat Falls

We ended our day at Tsusiat Falls.  Super pretty and great to be able to take a much needed shower in the waterfall - but there were way too many people there.  We didn't even bother heading over to the official camp area.  We found a nice little cave to tuck our tent into and enjoy the sunset before some much needed sleep.

West Coast Trail Day 3

This was our longest day – 17 km.  Really, not that long by normal standards (about 10.5 miles), but all the mileage on this trail took so much longer than what we were used to.  There was a problem bear at the campsite we had hoped to stay at, which forced the longer day.

The day started off nice - ate breakfast while watching some whales playing just off the coast.  Snuck through a hole in the cliffs as the tide was coming up.  Also saw an area where they are working to reintroduce an endangered plant that I work with in Oregon.

We had to take a ferry across the river at Nitinat Narrows.  This area is on tribal land and the ferry operator also has a crab/salmon/whatever is fresh shack set-up.  We each asked for a crab (Dungeness).  He pulled up a cage holding several large, live crab that had been caught just down the river, killed them, and steamed them as we waited.  Combined with two cans of Canada’s finest malt liquor – one of the best lunches ever.

We had a nice, short section of soft, level trail, but most of it was more of the muck, roots, and slick broken boardwalk.  We arrived at Cribs Creek more than ready to sit-down.  Unfortunately, this is the site where Ross got bit by a bunch of no see ums (1-4 millimeters, in the family Ceratopogonidae, related to the black flies).  The bites became red, itchy welts and his ankles totally swelled up for over a week.  Great sunset, though.

Sunset at Cribs Campground

Cribs is also where we left our float.  Old floats were hung in trees to mark campgrounds and where the trail exits/entrances (e.g. when you had to leave the beach for the woods).  Ross had picked up one as we were walking and spent time at Cribs carving it up.  It now hangs near our campsite at Cribs.

West Coast Trail Day 4

Super narrow (&swingy!) suspension bridge.

We thought this would be an easy day, fairly flat, mostly on the beach.  However, the beach was loose sand and gravel – real tiring.  We both got a second wind in the afternoon, but decided to call it a day when we got to Walbran around 3pm.  It would have taken us a bit more than 3 hours to get to the next campsite and we decided to take it easy on ourselves and rest.  There was a thick Marine layer all day, so we didn’t get much of a view, although there were some cool tidepools.

West Coast Trail Day 5

Today – super muddy, slick roots, broken board walks.  I slipped while climbing down a bunch of slick, tangled roots.  I needed Ross to help me back up. On the plus side, it was super cool to be hiking through a temperate rainforest and a super cool swamp (particularly when the boardwalk was in good shape).  On the minus side, it's looking like I tore my meniscus.  It slowed me down a bit, but I still hiked out.

West Coast Trail Day 6

The water was often stained brown like tea.

We left Camper a bit late to travel on the beach, so headed inland through the woods.  My knee hurt quite a bit, but loosened up as we moved.  The trail through the woods was actually pretty nice and there were some huge trees.

Thrasher (a.k.a. Dawson City)

Thrasher was packed.  This was the last campground for those of us hiking north to south and the first campground for those starting at Port Renfrew and moving north.  We hung out around a campfire with a family we’d been seeing on the trail and at camp all week.  It was a bit of a party as those of us heading out the next trail tried to eat up or give away the food they had left.

There was some excitement in the evening.  Ross and I started looking at the afternoon high tide line and realized that our tent was probably close to where the high tide would be that night around midnight.  At about 10pm, we moved our tent to one of the last places left higher on the beach and tried to get some sleep.  As clock ticked, it began to sound like the ocean was about to come through the tent.  A little after 11, a bunch of flashlights came on and we could hear a bunch of murmurings through the camp as several tents were nearly swamped. 

Log crossing

West Coast Trail Day 7 – Last day

We woke up early, thinking it was raining, but realized it was just rain dripping on the fly.  The last 6 km went by pretty fast (relatively – about 3.5 hours).  The trail revisited our favorites from the past, ladders, mud, boardwalks, plus a ton of logs to walk across and slippery rock bouldering.

A short ferry ride and we signed out at the ranger station.  We found out that in addition to being shuttled from the trailhead to our truck (parked near the harbor), our parking lot came with the benefit of clean, warm showers.

So, we took 7 days to do the trail.  Could have done it without pushing too much in 6 - but we were on vacation, what's the rush?  I found out that someone has actually run the trail in about 10 hours.  Someone else had been planning on trying to beat the record our first day on the trail, but decided to cancel due to the weather.  You'd have to have perfect conditions to run it in that kind of time. 

The 'civilized' half

The civilized portion of our trip started with burgers and beer at the Coastal Café, then getting back in the truck and driving on an old logging road (now paved, though still just a secondary road)to Lake Cowichan.  We camped near a lake and spent a few hours hanging out on a beach and swimming.  From Lake Cowichan, we went through Duncan, where we went on a guided tour of the cities many totem poles.  We wandered through Cowichan Bay, a cool artsy, environmental bayfront town.  We found a great park to hike in and spent some time wine and cider tasting.  We also continued our exploration of BC's best cheese shops, bread bakeries, and farm stands.  On this part of the trip almost every lunch consisted of super yummy cheese, fresh heirloom tomatoes, and crusty artisan bread.  We spent a fun couple of hours kayaking through Cowichan Bay.  We didn't see any whales, but we did see a couple of see otters munching on something tasty and a ton of seals, including some babies that were hanging out on floating logs. 

A busker at Victoria's inner harbor.

From there, we went on to Victoria.  I was able to introduce Ross to both high tea (though we went a cheaper route than the infamous Empress Hotel) and one of my most-favorite-ever restaurants, Rebar.  We saw a great exhibit at the Royal BC Museum, had drinks on the fancy porch of the Empress, and generally enjoyed wandering the city.


From Victoria, we went to Salt Spring Island.  This island is known for its artists and was where a bunch of draft dodgers came during Vietnam.  Our first stop was a bakery, followed by a wonderful cheese place (both of them were at the owners' homes and farms), and a couple of wineries.  We wandered through a few art shops before stopping for dinner at a restaurant that grew it's own vegetables and bought most of the rest of it's food either on the island or in BC.

The Olympic Torch from the 2010 Winter Game.

Our last few days were spent in Vancouver.  We had briefly passed through here a few years ago on our bike tour, but didn't get a chance to stay.  We spent a lovely two nights at Nelson House Bed and Breakfast, right near downtown.  We wandered all through the harbor and China Town, took a tour through the Dr. Sun Yat Sen Chinese Garden, and had a couple of great runs through Stanley Park (my knee actually felt better after moving).

Great trip over-all.   It was hard to come home, though very nice to see our Tobey-dog and Ceacelia-cat again (many thanks to my parents for once again watching the kids!).

The Mac!

The Mac is the reason why I fell in love with trail running. In 1996, one of my best friends and I ran with her mom as she trained for the first ever MacDonald Forest 50km. When I moved back to Corvallis, I knew I had to run this race, and despite its challenges (over 6100' of elevation!), it is one of my favorites.

My anxiety for the race this year was at an all-time high - in large part because I'd set a pretty high goal for myself - finishing under 6 hours. My previous times were 6:36 and 6:35; improving by over 30 minutes was ambitious. However, I'm running better than ever and had a lot of encouragement from my running friends, so thought it might actually be doable.

I showed up early and had my vitals checked for a study on sodium and ultra-running. My blood pressure (which the day before was measured at 86/52 - normal for me) was around 100/60 and my pulse rate (which during normal activity usually hovers around 55) was already at 96 bpm. Sheesh - you'd think I was running already!

The race started as it always does - without much fanfare. The gong was rung, and we were off. Peter, Linda, and I were all hoping for sub-6 finishes this year, so I kept pace with them - which felt really fast to me. I credited running fairly conservatively for the first part of Peterson with how well I did there, so wasn't too concerned when I lost contact heading up Powder House. But when I turned onto Road 580 and saw that Meghan was running with them and Dan was running just behind, I couldn't resist and ignored the little voice telling me to be conservative and sprinted to catch up to them. When else would I be able to run with Meghan during a race?

Our little group broke up again as we crossed Lewisburg Saddle, but early on in the maze, John from Albany started running with me and we ended up running most of the race together. We chatted off and on, but mostly just having someone on my heals helped me keep my motivation to keep pushing myself.

I hit Chip Ross (22 miles) at around 4 hours and realized that my goal really was within reach. I had hoped to get to the Saddle again (now at 26 miles into the race) under 5 hours. Not quite, but close enough that my goal was still within reach, if only I could at least jog the remaining 5 miles.

Miles 26-28 didn't go so well, and despite knowing that I didn't have the time to waste, I ended up walking a decent amount of the climb up Road 500. I hit PowderHouse and pushed through - it hurt a lot, but I was almost there - and it's not like I needed to have anything left - just a little harder....

I finished in 6:03. Not quite my goal, but pretty close. And I managed to shave 32 minutes off of my previous course time. That feels pretty darn good (and was good enough for 13th woman and 68 out of 201 runners).

A few favorite moments from the day: Dennis pointing out the flowering dogwood as I left Baker Creek; Almost falling as I turned onto two bits because I was distracted by Mikio and his camera (in hind sight, it was pretty funny); The Mac Ale (already consumed!); Sam's bluegrass on Horse; April and Craig got married!; LD won her agegroup!; and the hugs, good luck wishes, offers to fill my pack, laughs, and over-all great support from all my running friends both on and off the course.

Peterson Ridge Rumble 40 miler

have a habit of contemplating entering a race for years. Since I started running ultramarathons, I've considered running the Peterson Ridge Rumble -- it took five years for me to actually enter. This year, they increased the distance to 40 miles, which also meant I was finally going to attempt my goal of running longer than 50km.



One of the things I love about ultramarathons is the attitude that most of the runners seem to have surrounding the events. Although we all take our races fairly seriously in our own ways, the rest of the time is about fun and camaraderie. You can't help but laugh when five people who are running a 40 miler end up collectively bringing a full cooler of beer for an overnight trip (at least we didn't drink it all the night before).

I'd been neurotically checking the weather all week, especially since we'd had a late snowstorm come through few days before the race. However, Sunday morning was actually somewhat warm and only a few, non-threatening clouds hovered over-head as I positioned myself near the back of the pack at the start. After some shuffling for a position I was comfortable with and a quick jump in the bushes (perhaps I'd gotten a bit too hydrated before the race), but when I found myself near Caballo. We ran together, with our pace kept in check by his heart-rate monitor. A few miles later, Drew, a former Corvallis-resident joined up with us, and then next 10 or so miles flew by as we chatted our way along soft-single track and dirt roads. The course wasn't very technical, and most of the rocks were easy to pick your way through, but that's what made them so dangerous. The ease of the trail could lull a runner into a sense of complacency, and sure enough, I found myself kissing dirt somewhere around mile 14. What a happy surprise - the ground was soft! I picked myself up, inspected my scrapes and cuts (minimal, just enough to help with that 'tough' look) and was able to keep up the pace.

Unfortunately, I lost Drew and Caballo when I stopped to eat a little at an aid station, but the rest of the race was still really nice. I took another digger, but didn't do much more damage (wow, that dirt was soft!). I was shocked when I looked down at my Garmin and saw that I was already at mile 20. My slowest miles were between 20 and 30 - nothing remarkable good or bad. At the second-to-last aid station, we made a turn for the mostly downhill final 10 miles. I could hear LocaDork in my head, saying that this is where the race should begin. I figured that from hear on out, everything was going to be new territory, so I might as well see what I had left.

I made a few calculations and realized that not only was I in good shape to beat my 7 hour goal, but had a slight chance of beating my slowest 50k time. There were several voices and thoughts in my head for those last 10 miles - Meghan's descriptions of her recent win at Way Too Cool, knowing that Pam had just made the US National Team for the 100k the day before, an old friend's advice that there's always more left to pull out of your gut - so I just ran hard. And I tried to run harder the closer I got to the end. The only major problem I had was when I run hard, I tend to have asthma issues; and I really have asthma issues when I get emotional. So when I looked down at my Garmin and saw that I was at a little over 38 miles and started to get a little emotional, I started having a pretty nasty wheezing spell. Figuring that I still had about 2 miles to go, I opted for stopping, taking my inhaler, slowing my breathing. Once I started and got another 200 meters down the trail, I saw that I was actually about 1/2 mile from the end. The emotion and wheezing came back, but at that point it didn't matter. Through the parking lot, onto the track, then crossing the line at 6:43:32. Just a bit slower than my fastest 50k; definitely under 7 hours. Yippee!

Here we go...

I actually had a New Year's resolution this year -- I was going to challenge myself to face my fears and start running with the other ultra/trail runners in Corvallis. I faced a similar challenge when I started going on group rides during my road biking days in Missoula. As in Missoula, I struggle to keep up, but everyone has been so supportive and I think I'm becoming a stronger runner for it.

I've also found myself signing up for more races - and much closer together - than I had before running with the group. The excitement of signing up for new races and getting into the big ones can be both catching and addictive.

So on Friday, March 11th, I found myself driving with Ross to the Columbia River Gorge for my first of four endurance events within as many months. Our first stop was at Nicholas' in Gresham for Lebanese with seven of the Corvallis crew. From there onto the KOA for our stay in the Kamping Kabin. It as a kozy, kute spot, though I only saw it at night (Ross reported that things were a bit bleaker by daylight). I had packed enough clothing for about three runners, but I wanted options - and well, I can be a bit neurotic before races. I finally decided on an outfit, threw together a few drop bags, then tried to settle down to sleep. At least that was the intent. Trains came by about every hour. I'm sure wearing my earplugs would have helped, but I was afraid that if I put them in, I would have missed my alarm (refer back to the comment about being neurotic).

Nevertheless, around 6:15, I found myself milling around Wyeth Campground with about 140 other runners. After repeated porta-potty breaks, we boarded buses for our ride to the start. Without really planning it, all the Corvallis-ites ended up on the same bus, which we thought would be the first to the start (first to the start = first to the porta-potty line). We actually were almost the last, but that ended up being a good thing considering the cold temperature and the light drizzle that was starting to fall.

Soon enough (enough time for me to start thinking, "I feel hungry ... crap"), we were off. The first two miles were a 1700' climb - and surprisingly I felt really good. I tried to keep the heartrate and effort low, but was able to jog most of it. The next ten miles or so were a mix of technical down-hills, gorgeous waterfalls, and short but steep-ish uphills. Over-all, I was feeling great -- singing "It's a great day to be alive" - great. I came into Aid Station 1 feeling like it was possible come in under 6 hours. Lobo was there with words of encouragement and a helpful hand, and I was off (an aside: the RD, James, bought re-usable cups for the aid stations and beer at the end -- very cool!).

Shortly after Aid 1, we passed by pretty Elowa falls. It was likely running through a fairly land with moss-covered boulders, waterfall mist, and blue waters. Happy. Heading up the next climb, I passed Colin who later dropped due to a twisted ankle. The next ten were a bit of a blur of technical trails, rocky ankle-twisting landslides, muddy-ucky-bulldozed roads, and pavement. Around mile 16, I felt the proverbial wall rising up. I'd been fueling up every hour -- either gels or the pb&j, coke, and peanut m&m's at Aid 1, so I thought I'd be able to power through it better. Instead, I started thinking about how when you hit the wall during a traditional marathon, you only have about 8-10 miles left, but in an ultra, you're at best about half-way through. Stinkin-thinkin.

I was feeling a little defeated at Aid 2, but Lobo was there again with a friendly smile and more words of encouragement. I couldn't figure out how to screw the top back on my water bottle without spilling the cup of coke I was also holding. Never occurred to me to put the coke down. Luckily someone helped me with that. More pb&j (best EVER), peanut m&m's and corn chips (is this what they mean by "mana from heaven"?), and I was off (yeah -- I was kinda carb and salt hungry by then).

Some of the best trail of the course was in the last 10 miles. I kept trying to convince myself that I should be enjoying the nice, rolling, relatively nontechnical pine-strewed single track. Unfortunately, by then I had little "go" left in me and I felt every foot-fall through every aching joint. Caballo passed me during the short down-and-back around mile 22. His singing made me laugh and perked me up a bit for the next mile or so. When I eventually found myself heading down to Wyeth at mile 30, I was ready to stop. In fact, when I saw Ross about a third of a mile from the finish, I did. To say hi and that I was tired. He suggested we run together, which made the ending so much more pleasant than it would have been otherwise.

6 hours and 36 minutes. Instead of breaking 6 hours, it stands as my slowest 50k time. Considering the technicality of the trail and the elevation gain (over 5000') I'm going to be okay with it. Besides, only a few more weeks till I get to try a new goal at the Peterson Ridge Rumble (40 miler) April 10th.

The BC bike trip

Here is the very long story of Ross and my two-week cycling trip in British Columbia. We estimated we covered about 600 miles in 10 days of cycling (1 day was just driving and another day was just on the ferry). Sorry, but I didn't take the time to add the photos to the text below, but you are welcome to view the shots at my Picasa album or just look at the slide show below.

Day 1: Sunday, 9 August, 2009. From Corvallis to Vancouver
People ask me why Ross has so many great stories. Take a long trip with him and you’ll quickly discover why.

After a long drive from Corvallis, we finally found ourselves in Vancouver. I navigated us through to the west end of the street our hotel was on and told Ross to go east a few blocks. We had picked this hotel because it was only about 1 mile from the Greyhound Station and they had given us a great deal on long term parking. The hotel’s website mentioned that there were a number of services for the homeless and drug addicted in the area, but that the hotel and lot were very safe. A bit odd of a non-warning, but I tend to be overly cautious, so I agreed to go for it. As the street we were driving on switched from “West Hastings” to “East Hastings”, we discovered why there was a need for such a statement. For several blocks, the sidewalks were crammed with the homeless, mentally ill, and drug-addicted; hookers and pushers were out in broad daylight. We later found out that this area is rather notorious. Vancouver has the highest concentration of people in North America, and so consequently also has the highest area of the destitute in North America.

Our hotel, the Patricia Inn, was nice enough in the lobby. We lugged out two bike boxes, the box and bag for my BOB trailer, and Ross’s bags into the rickety elevator (a few trips), down the hallways that reeked of smoke (despite no-smoking signs posted every few feet), and finally found our room at the end. The door seemed to be composed of a thin sheet of plywood. We managed to squeeze our stuff in next to the bed, but it was all a very tight fit. After a few minutes of wondering where the bathroom was, I realized that it was actually what I had at first thought was the closet. hrm. Well, we were only staying one night here, and we only needed to sleep in the room, so we headed downtown to explore and find some dinner.

Downtown Vancouver was great. So metropolitan, so international. We had some great sushi and sake at Tsunami Sushi, some gelato a bit down the street, then just wandered around.

Day 2: Monday, August 11: Greyhound to Williams Lake
We woke early, loaded everything we were biking with in the car, and put everything else from the car in secure storage in the hotel. Ross dropped me off at the Greyhound station, then headed back to the hotel so he could park the car, then run back to the station. I negotiated my way into the Greyhound line with a cart piled high and wide with bikes and gear. We had picked up our tickets the night before, and the attendant recommended that we use the BOB box and BOB bag as our checked luggage, then stuff all of our extra stuff into the two bike boxes that we were paying for as over-sized. When I went to get the tickets for the bike boxes, the woman told me that the bike boxes had to be under 50 pounds. I told her that no-one had mentioned that to us. She then told me that the BOB box did not count as luggage. I told her that one of our co-workers had told us the opposite the night before. I spent at least 10 minutes trying to talk to reason with her, explaining that in addition to talking to someone in person at the station the night before, we read the website numerous times and both called at least three times. No one had mentioned the rules she was now insisting were so clear. She finally relented and let me have the tickets, but gave me the warning that the bus driver probably wouldn’t load the boxes and I’d have to come back to the ticket off, pay more money, and put the boxes through as freight. Freight is shipped through as space is available and generally takes at least 2 days.

By now, my nerves are fried. Ross finally arrives, assures me that everything will be okay, but I couldn’t believe it until the bikes were on the bus and we were safely on our way. I made sure we were first in line for the bus, we put our boxes in the area they indicated, and next thing I knew, they were loaded on the bus, no comments from the driver.

Our 8 hour bus ride to Williams Lake took us through an amazing diversity of habitats, from the forests around Vancouver, to the shrub-scrub similar to eastern Oregon, to the open dry forests around Williams Lake. Although a lot of it was similar to what we have in Oregon, there were differences that the ever-curious biologist in me continues to want to explore more of.

We re-assembled our bikes in the Greyhound parking lot, then were off to find our lodging. This was the maiden voyage of my bike with the loaded BOB. I have said many times that my road bike rides like she was built for me; at times, it has almost felt like it was just an extension of me. Now I felt like I’d never ridden a bike before; everything about my bike handled differently. Maybe I should have done a short trial trip before our 2 week adventure?

A short, but awkward ride found us at Blackbird Bay Bed and Breakfast. What a great place. Blackbird Bay is on the edge of a wildlife refuge, the room was large and comfortable, and the host was super nice. The breakfast was only self-serve cereal, toast, and fruit – but the lack of a full bed and breakfast style breakfast is my only complaint of the place.

One final note about the day – on the bus, we found out that there were several large fires burning in the forests bordering Canadian Highway 20 – the highway that we were planning on riding on to get to Bella Coola. One of the fires was apparently burning right on the highway at the hill, and because of the extent of the fire and the already somewhat dangerous nature of the road, it had been closed for over 2 weeks. When we got to our Bed and Breakfast, we scoured the internet for information, and found out that they were now allowing cars to go through twice a day, at 8 AM and 6 PM. The cars were led by a pace car, and you had to get to the line-up about 2 hours ahead of time. While this would definitely be a challenge to our plans, at least the road was open. We were also really worried about the smoke, but figured that we should keep on with our plans and see what happened.

Day 3: Tuesday, August 11. Williams Lake to Chilcotin Lodge (~20 miles)
Unfortunately, when Ross put his bike together the day before, he discovered that the bike shop in Corvallis had done a poor job on some of the work they'd done before we left. Luckily, the friendly people at Red Shred's Bike & Board Shop in Williams Lake let him use their tools for free. So after a delay for bike repair and grocery shopping, we finally hit the road. What a start. We had two large passes to go over. The ride was pretty, though, and there wasn't much traffic. There was a checkpoint just outside of Williams Lake warning us the road near the hill was still only open twice a day due to the fires. However, that was still a few day's ride, so we figured we just see what happened once we got there. We ended up stopping for the night at the Chilcotin Lodge. We had a nice campsite all to ourselves and a great sunset thanks to the smoke from the fires.

One of the difficulties of this route that became pretty clear this first night was that although there were services (grocery stores, campgrounds, and motels) along the way, they were fairly spread out. Finding a decent place to stay the night (preferably with a shower) ended up being the biggest determinant in how far we'd ride each day.

Day 4: Wednesday, August 12. Chilcotin Lodge to Chezacut Ranch, Redstone (~80 miles)
We pushed hard today, trying to make up some of our lost time yesterday. After a a piece of pie at Lee's corner in Hanceville, we got to Alexis Creek just before a massive thunder shower started. We waited out the storm sitting on the covered porch in front of the store only to be met with pouring rain, hail, and high winds a few miles down the road. Bull Canyon seemed spectacular, but I didn't want to stop and notice how wet I was. As we were heading up the pass before Redstone, we saw a bear just on the other side of the road from us. He was quite curious about us, getting up on his hind legs and watching us ride. Thanks to the hill, he got a great long look since we were going pretty slow. I would have taken a photo, but considering how close we were, decided stopping to take a picture wasn't the best idea. We were trying to get to Puntzi Lake, but at 5:40 PM, still had about 20 miles to go; and we weren't even sure what we'd find when we got there. A sign at Redstone (really just a name on the map) pointed up a side road and said there was lodging 7km up the road. After a scenic, but rough road (I had to walk a hill), we came to the driveway for the lodge. Both Ross and I had to walk the several kilometers to the lodge. By then, my blood sugar had crashed, we still weren't even sure if they had room for us, and I was exhausted.

It all ended up being worth it, though. We found ourselves on a sprawling organic ranch. Although we were welcome to pitch our tent or stay in a teepee, we stayed in a wonderful room in the bunkhouse. We had dinner with the ranch workers and owners at the main house -- all the veggies and meat grown on the ranch. The ranch is owned by a Swiss family who is currently building an slaughterhause, restaurant, and feed store down on the main highly. One of the sisters owns a restaurant, Ethical Kitchen, in Vanouver where they sell their meat. Everything about the ranch was so amazing -- I loved the ethics the guided their ranch, the land was gorgeous, the accommodations were comfortable and peaceful, and the people were incredibly friendly. I'd love to come back some time.

Day 5: Thursday, August 13. Chezacut Ranch to Tatla Lake (~50 miles)
I woke up in the morning with a hard, speeding pulse (normally a sign of over-training) and my whole body hurt. After some tea and granola, we got a ride with Dominic (The daughter who leads the ranch adventures) down to the highway, saving us several frustrating miles. Before we started riding, we had a tour through the slaughterhouse that was almost finished. They've designed it with a more humane intake area designed to minimize stress to the animals. The building is actually very pretty. They've insulated it with 10 inch styrofoam to increase energy efficiency and they put in a ton of windows so it'd be a pleasant place to work. The whole operation seemed like a good model.

We only rode about 50 miles. Some hills, but not too bad. However, I was spent physically, couldn't get into a good rhythm, and realized that I probably wasn't eating enough when I bonked hard at about 40 miles.

We ended our day at the Graham Inn on Tatla Lake. First, hamburgers, salad (with fresh veggies from a local greenhouse), a beer, and rhubarb crumble with ice cream. We then sat on the bed of our room with the cabin door open and watched as the rain streamed down. Yet, the sun was still shining and there were mixed blue skies and white and grey clouds over the mountains. The lake was a bit of blue peaking through the trees whose leaves were starting to be all in shadow. So pretty.

Day 6: Friday, August 14. Tatla Lake to Nimpo Lake (60-70 miles)
Woke up feeling a lot better today. We climbed a bit out of Tatla Lake and eventually hit the Cariboo Flats. "Flats" is a bit of a misnomer - should be Cariboo false-flats. We kept our pace at 10 - 14 mph most of the day though. Since it became pretty clear to me yesterday that I wasn't eating enough when I let hunger be my guide, I made a point of eating something every 10 miles whether I thought I needed it or not -- definitely helped with the energy level throughout the day.

We had a great creekside lunch stop and pulled into the Vagabond Campground on Nimpo Lake about 4:30 PM. Although we had originally planned to ride to Anahim Lake today, we decided to stop at Nimpo when we found out the campground at Anahim was 5 miles up a gravel road. In contrast, the campground at Nimpo was only about 1/2 mile down a paved road. We had a pretty little spot for our tent, right next to the lake. We had a great dinner at the Dean on Nimpo Lake and watched the sun set as the loons called out into the night.

The landscape on the Cariboo Flats was so different from that of the day before. More forested, with aspen along the streams and road cuts. Instead of dry grasslands, there were numerous marshes and scattered Lake. The closest thing to this is Oregon in the Cascade Lakes Highway near Bend.

Day 7: Saturday, August 15. Nimpo Lake to the Tweedsmuir Park Lodge (60 miles, including "the hill")
I'd been nervous about this stretch of the trip since way before we started the ride. We'd heard so many stories of the horrible gravel road, the hill that had an 18% grade for several miles, the fires. Luckily, the day before we were told that they were now letting cars through from 8 AM to 6 PM, so that removed one stress of the segment. The first 12 miles from Nimpo Lake to the turn-off for Anahim Lake were paved. Then, 2 miles after the turn-off, the pavement ended. However, for all the stories, the 28 mile climb up Heckman Pass actually wasn't too bad. More packed dirt than gravel. The Hill had been "flattened" and the grades ranged from 11 - 15% for 6 miles. Ross was a bit disappointed, but I though that 15% was exciting enough. The muscles in my hands and forarms hurt from braking for so long.

The fires were actively burning. Piles were smoldering next to the road. At the bottom of the hill, 2 helicopters were dipping into the creek to attack some spot fires on the mountainside.

We got lucky with camping tonight. All the public campgrounds were closed due to the fires. We stopped by the Tweedsmuir Lodge (famous for its heli-skiing in the winter). They had two rooms available, but they were super-expensive. The lodge manager was hesitant to let us camp, due both to the fires and the fact that she was already hosting 20 firefighters in her main camping area. However, she ended up letting us put up our tent. We had wine on the back deck, overlooking the mountains as first hummingbirds and dragonflies the size of hummingbirds danced through the air, followed by bats hungrily eating up all the mosquitos. Amazing night.

Day 8: Sunday, August 16. Tweedsmuir Park Lodge to Bella Coola (~45 miles)
The riding today was relatively easy. Mostly downhill and good pavement.Lush forests with hug trees, big rivers, tall mountains. Gorgeous.

Hagensborg turned out to be just a loose scattering of homes and business. We found a roadside self-service veggie stand and bought some carrots and green beans, which dramatically improved our lunch of salami and cheese. A stop by an "The herb farm" brought us plums and organic snacks.

Just before getting to Bella Coola, we went to go see some Petroglyphs. Although the carvings pre-date the First Nations peoples who live in the area now and are located on public land, the First Nations people in the area prevent people from visiting the area unless led by a guide. Our guide turned out to be a teenaged boy -- it was the second time he'd done this. His family had a lot of history in the area and he knew quite a bit about the carvings. Unfortunately, this positive aspect of having him guide us was outweighed by the negatives of spending an hour with a young man who either had ADHD or FAS. He was constantly telling us about he could talk to the trees, hear better, walk quieter, run faster, karate-chop better than anyone. He also hates white people. He'd kill them if he could. For this, we "tipped" $40 CAN.

Bella Coola was a quiet fishing town. Unfortunately, almost everything in town is closed on Sunday. I'm sure this place would be great if you were fishing or hiking, but for us, the journey was definitely the highlight, not the destination. I would recommend not staying in hotels in Bella Coola. Due to our early ferry, we decided not to camp, and instead had an overpriced room that was infested with some kind of small flying, biting insect. Ross and I had to douse ourselves head to toe with DEET in order to get any sleep.

Day 11: Wednesay , August 19. Fisherboy Park, 6 miles from Sayward
Yesterday (Tuesday, August 18), we pushed hard -- about 65 miles and pulled into Woss at about 4 PM. Unfortunately, the motel was full. However, there was a campground on the lake "2 miles away" according to a local. As usual, the estimated distance turned out to be off. The distance was 2 miles on paved road, then another 2 on really bad gravel. The campground would have been nice if there hadn't been a group of 30 kids there who were only loosely supervised by adults, bugs, and trahs and poo (yep, human poo) in random places -- including a few feet from the lake.

We got up early and rode the 45 miles to Fisherboy Park. There weren't any facilities for another 60 miles and the day was getting hot, so we decided to call it a day. We had a great camping spot and the peopel were really friendly. We never made it into Sayward. After showering the salt and grime off, we headed to a cafe for cold beers and flipping through picture books of the history of the area. For dinner, we went to the Cable Cookhouse, which was entirely covered with logging cable. The food was really good. Everything was home-made, including the whole grain buns that came with our seafood sandwhiches. They also made some of the best blackberry pie I've ever had. After dinner, we sat at our campsite and sipped wine out of plastic goblets the owner of Fisherboy gave us when we bought the bottle.

The terrain on north Vancouver Island wasn't too bad. Probably over-all downhill, but some decent climbs every 10 miles or so. Tuesday we had a great shoulder for about 10 miles, then nothing. I actually had a stupid low-speed crash trying to get closer t the edge of the lane, then overshooting and getting sucked into the gravel. Wednesday, we had a great shoulder for all but the last 5 miles or so.

Day 12 Thursday, August 20.

We hitched a ride from Sayward to Campbell River -- rode 60 miles in the back of an old pick-up truck. We had great views, but I'm really glad we didn't ride it. The road only had a good shoulder for about 10 miles and there were several large clear-cuts down to the road's edge. The ride would have taken us all day by bike. Instead, it only took us an hour.

From Campbell River, we first stopped in Courtenay. Courtenay was bustling with a lot of shops in its downtown area. From there we went to Comox, a sleepy town similar to Bandon, Oregon. The riding was nice. A lot of it was within site of the Georgia Strait, we had good shoulders, and the hills were mild. We had a bit of an issue getting to our campground -- Bates Beach, but once there, it was nice enough. Fewer bugs than the previous several nights.

Day 13: Friday, August 21. Egmont
After taking a ferry from Campbell River (Vancouver Island) to Powell River (on the mainland), we rode down the Sunshine coast to Egmont (which required a second ferry ride). This was an interesting spot; much less of a village than I had expected. We camped at Backeddy Resort and Marina. Not recommended. The camping area was crowded, gravely, and didn't have a picnic table. However, there was a nice restaurant with good beer, so we stayed there most of the night. I would love to come back to this area. There are a town of protected inlets and lakes that would be great for flat-water kayaking.

Day 14: Saturday, August 22. Roberts Creek (45 miles)
We had originally planned to camp in Roberts Creek, but since this was our last night in BC and we had to get up early to ride down to the ferry, we decided to find a room for the night. Luckily, we stopped at a native art gallery in a town on the way and the woman working there recommended that we make reservations before getting there; that not only would the town be full because it was a weekend (and Roberts Creek is close to Vancouver, so is an easy getway), but it was "Up the Creek Days" and a lot of people would be there for the festivities. After I called a few places and was told they were all rented out, she recommended a Bed and Breakfast that wasn't listed in the guides. Lucky for us, she had a room left.

What a find. The B&B is owned by an older South African couple. They plan on only staying in business for another year or so because the woman had a bad back injury and couldn't help out much. However, she still was a wonderful host. We had a great room, comfortable and quiet. They served high tea complete with home-made meringues, walnut cookes, quick breads, berries, and whipped cream. After tea, we rode our bikes into town, had dinner at The Gumboot (really good gourment hippie food), then checked out the remainders of Up the Creek Days -- in particular, the huge Mandala that was painted near the jetty. We had read that a lot of Americans came up here during the Vietnam War, and there was definitely a strong undercurrent of old hippie. However, there were also huge expensive mansions surrounding the bay. Interesting combo. We watched the sun set, then rode back for a peaceful sleep at the B&B.

Day 15, Vancouver!
A bit of an adventure getting back. We took the ferry over to about 10 miles outside of Vancouver, then Ross left me at a coffee shop while he rode into town to get the car. We figured that with as difficult and slow as it sometimes was for me to ride with the BOB trailer (especially in high traffic areas), it'd be faster for him to go alone. Luckily the car was okay (though it had what looked like puke in the roof). We stopped for a very late lunch at a Romanian Restaurant (really good Romanian food! -- I even had a chance to dust off some of my rusty Romanian talking to the owner of the restaurant), then headed for home. We didn't get home until about 2 AM Monday morning -- then we both got up and went to work.


Over-all -- a good vacation. Adventurous and a bit fast-paced, but we got to see a lot of cool places, many of which I'd like to go back to.