Spring Mountain Rambling Kit

Kit laid out (forgot to include helmet)

A quick listing of my basic kit for mountain routes during the spring/early summer where I expect snow travel.  This could range from quick climbs like Mount Daniel to the longer "ultraneering" routes like Dakobed or Olympus.  I must note that it is not the be all, end all and certain routes will require tweaks to this kit but for the most part, this is what I turn to.

• Black Diamond Distance 15:  I absolutely love this pack. Is it perfect?  No.  The enclosures for the front pockets are fiddly and it can be difficult to access the lowest front pockets when the pocket above it is crammed full but I can overlook these small nitpicks.  It is comfortable, fits well, doesn't bounce and has just the right capacity for all of the stuff listed (it could fit more if needed).  I have worn this thing on a 50 and 62 miler and had no issues with shoulder strain.  The front pockets hold enough to keep me moving for hours at a time and honestly I only need to remove the pack for layer or gear changes. 

• La Sportiva Uragano:  Typically I'm not a huge fan of GTX shoes but these shoes are so versatile from snow travel to scrambling to just all around comfort for long approaches that I overlook the GTX feature. The built in gaiters are a nice touch and the aggressive traction is great for the different terrain we face in Washington.  

• Petzl crampons: Depending on terrain I will use either the Irvis Hybrid which feature steel points in the front, or the Petzl Leopard which are all aluminum and are lighter.  These fit to any boot or trail runner I have used, are compact and easy to put on and take off.

• Black Diamond Vapor Helmet: lightweight, sharp looking.

• C.A.M.P. Corsa Ice Axe: Extremely lightweight fall protection. I use both a 50 cm and 70 cm depending on terrain I am likely to encounter.

• Black Diamond Trekking Poles: I'm not a huge fan of poles but on the bigger routes I will lug these along.

• Garmin inReach Mini: I reviewed this product earlier but for me, it's an absolute essential.  

• GoPro 3: For quick snaps while moving

• Suunto 9:  Huge battery life, all kinds of bells and whistles and I haven't had much issue with the app and Suunto synching. 

• Battery charger/cable: For phone, Mini, headlamp charging

• Biolite headlamp: Comfortable, adjustable light with five settings.  Very simple and for someone like me who doesn't want a super bright headlamp, it lasts for a long time.  20+ hours.

• Julbo sunglasses: Explorer for lots of snow travel.  Trekking for routes that have less snow travel.

• Outdoor Research Baja Hoody: Lightweight puffy with hood and a big front pouch pocket as I find I like it for putting my hands in if chilly.  I will interchange this with a heavier Rab Alpine puffy if forecast calls for colder temps.

• Black Diamond Distance jacket: Lightweight wind breaker and water resistant.  Amazing how much warmth is trapped by this jacket.  Similar product that is as good, Patagonia Houdini.

• Outdoor Research Echo Hoody: Started wearing these in an effort to keep the sun off me.  Absolutely love this versatile top that I wear in temps ranging from low 40's to upper 80's.  Combined with the Distance jacket, I am good in the low 30's while moving.

• Patagonia Terrabone Jogging Pants: Another purchase to keep the sun off my legs as well as protect them in bushwhacking routes.  Lightweight, water resistant and quick drying.  I absolutely love these and I hate pants! 

• Patagonia Strider Shorts: Quick drying, great pockets

• REI fleece gloves: Simple but effective.  Will bring along waterproof outers if I the route might have steep snow where I will be getting my hands wet.

• Random brand buff: Extra warmth for head or face

• Bicycle Cap: My favorite style of cap.  Bill doesn't interfere as much with your vision but still shades the eyes.

• Smartwool/Stance Socks: Love both brands.  Combined with pre-taping with Luekotape and application of Trail Toes prevents blisters and maceration.

• First aid kit: Random odds and ends like sunscreen, chapstick, some pain relief in case of injury, extra tape.  

For water, I rely on the numerous water sources available in the PNW and carry a liter of capacity.  I will be upfront and admit that I do not filter my water (haven't for years) but for those who want to filter, I recommend the Katadyn BeFree filter.

Fueling is such a personal variable that I don't go into much detail about it.  I am fortunate in that I can go for eight to ten hours on very few calories (<500) without bonking but again, this all depends on what works for you. 

A Quick Review of the inReach Mini

This is a quick review of the Garmin inReach Mini.  With now two months to use the device in a variety of applications, I feel I have gotten to know it fairly well.

I will preface this review by outlining what is most important to me with a device like the Mini.  Being solo about 95% of the time, a satellite communicator and tracker has become an essential piece of gear in my kit.  It travels with me on any route where I have any chance of losing a cell reception.  The primary use of the device is for my family and friends to keep track of my whereabouts, to be able to have two way communication while out on a route and of course, the SOS feature in case things go awry.  I do not use the device for navigation, choosing to use both Gaia on my phone or the ol' paper map and compass routine.  Additionally, I have not downloaded the app to my phone nor paired the device with my phone.

Also, as a solo traveler, it is imperative for me that I have the device tracking me at all times.  If I were to become incapacitated and unable to hit the SOS button, at least rescue teams would have a fairly small area to focus on.  If I do not have the device pinging and don't check in for hours, that search area suddenly becomes a lot larger.

Out of the box, the device was reasonably easy to set up even for this only semi- tech literate dude. Your personalized homepage is fairly intuitive to navigate so I won't go into much detail on it.  The device is limited to just four or five buttons, but again, it is easy to navigate through the various screens and find what you are looking for. With the ability to pre-load various messages into the device, I am able with some foresight, to load messages that I believe will be handy during a route so that I can easily access them and send them without having to type them out (which is a slow process with the limited buttons).  This is all moot if you do choose to pair your Mini with your phone which will allow you to type messages on your phone and send them out.

The size of the Mini (or lack of) is incredible.  Weighing in at just 3.5 ounces, it easily fits in the palm of your hand.  It is so small that I can tuck it into the pocket on my shorts and not even notice it.  A significant decrease in size over the standard device.

But the decrease in size has come with some negatives.

Battery life.  I had read reviews that warned of a battery life that did not perform to the manufacturers specs. This gave me some concern as I decided on whether or not to purchase the device.  In the end, the small size was enough for me to make the investment.  It was my hope that the battery would at least last 35-40 hours which would cover the majority of my routes.  Anything longer and I could charge with an outside battery source.

After eight weeks of using the device in a variety of terrain, I had very mixed results.  In areas with heavy tree cover with pings set to every ten minutes, my battery usage was about 5% per hour, giving the device a 20 hour life before needing to be recharged. However, on my 100 km trip to the border and back in the North Cascades, I used 75% of the battery in just 10 hours even after switching it to 20 minute pings at about six hours in after seeing the huge battery drain.  With it being a 20 hour trip, I was forced to charge the device while on the route.

On the other hand, in areas like the Grand Canyon, and Koma Kulshan where I had no tree cover, the battery usage was about 2-3% per hour, which would the user 33-50 hours of usage before needing charging.  Much more in align with what I hoped to see when purchasing the Mini.

Second, reception.  On my old device, even under heavy tree coverage, I found the reception to be consistent with very few instances of significant gaps between pings. This has not been the case with the Mini.  Under heavy tree cover, I have gone up to four hours without sending out a ping.  A tad bit concerning given that so much of what I do is under tree cover.  Again though, in areas with no cover, the device has pinged consistently.

Some examples:

Device on Koma Kulshan.  Consistent pings throughout the trip.

The Brothers.  As you can see large gaps in the forested section of the climb.

Given the battery life and ping issues, it is pretty easy to conclude that the device is using a lot of juice while attempting to find a satellite under heavy tree cover.

At this point, despite my reservations about the Mini, I intend to keep using the device knowing full well the limitations and working around those.  However, if you are looking at purchasing a satellite communicator and size is not an issue, than I have to recommend the standard device. If the size is important enough to you to accept some battery life and reception shortcomings, then the Mini may still fit your bill.

Update (05/26/2019)

Yesterday I went for a walk around my neighborhood and decided to test the inReach Mini in extended tracking mode. I set the pings to 30 minutes, turned off logging and threw it in pocket of my Black Diamond Distance 15 and promptly forgot about it.

This is the result of 30 minute pings in mostly forested cover. The red is my exact route. While there are some gaps, this isn't too bad of coverage. Battery usage was a little over 10% in six and a half hours.

Will continue to test the device using these settings.

Crash and Burn

My apologies in advance if this piece feels rushed.  Immediately following my return to the south rim and while washing the layers of tan, orange and brown dust off my legs (let's be honest, there was vomit on them too) I promised myself I would put into detail my experience in the canyon.  I felt at the time it was important to share the lessons I had learned in the canyon with others as well as documenting the journey for myself to reflect on in later years. But as so often the case with me, my gaze is directed at the trail immediately before me and within a couple of days afterward I had figured out what I had done wrong and was ready to move on.  Also, while my memory is not what it use to be, I am fortunate in that I remember quite a bit of detail from the majority of my runs, especially the bucket list ones like this. All I need to do is look at my Strava track, or a picture and the memories will come flooding back.  What I ate, the gear that worked and didn't work, the weather, how my feet felt, what wildlife I saw.  All sitting neatly in my head ready to be recalled.  Great for me but not so much for others who want to learn from your experiences.

Profile of the route

So I find myself in front of the keyboard with a promise to muscle my way through the the documentation of this desert journey.  I failed to complete the R2R2R in the Grand Canyon last week but looking back on it now I am greeted with the feeling that perhaps this was the experience I was meant to have.  That all the routes and goals I had given myself in the proceeding six months had come too easily and I needed to be reminded of just how resilient we are when faced with adversity.  Now don't get me wrong, I never felt like I was in serious danger during this "run". But I believe looking back that was because I made the right choices along the way especially the one just 700 vertical feet below the North Rim of the Canyon.  The 22 mile return to my starting point on the South Rim easily had the lowest points I have ever felt while in the outdoors.  But during those very uncomfortable moments, I still know what I needed to do to keep moving and to continue to be able to extract myself from the situation.  The confidence I gained by being able to successfully navigate both the physical and mental challenges on the route are in my opinion far more valuable than putting a check next to a line on the bucket list.

Looking over the route

The night before embarking on the attempt, we stayed at the Kachina Lodge on the South Rim of the Canyon.  We arrived around three and to be honest, though I had told myself we were walking into a tourist trap on the South Rim, I was not prepared for what we encountered.  It felt like a four ring circus to a guy like me who actively looks for solitude in the wild.  But we were able to quickly check in to the lodge, find a parking spot and haul our gear into our room. From there we took a quick trip along the rim to find the Bright Angel trailhead.  It was about a quarter of a mile from the lodge and despite the throngs of people, peering down the edge of the Canyon and seeing the trail laid out before me thousands of feet below filled me with excitement. On the other side of the canyon you could see the route towards the North Rim.  Seeing it all laid out before me is one of my favorite moments on the trail.  The uncertainty of what you will encounter, a curiosity of how you will perform during the task, and the wonder of the grandness of the landscape around you.  These are the                                                                            feelings that inspire me to attempt such acts.

Once I had my bearings, we made our way to the lounge at the lodge, had a couple of drinks then made our way to the dining room.  I usually eat everything in my path the day before something like this but on this occasion I didn't eat as much as I usually do.  I didn't worry much about it though as I knew I had plenty of calories to take along the way.  After dinner we hoped to snag some ice cream but were about 15 minutes too late.  So it was back to the room.  I quickly prepped everything for the morning and set my alarm for 3 AM.  Usually the night before something like this, I don't sleep well but I was able to get some good sleep waking up just 15 minutes before my alarm went off.  I dressed quickly, applied some sunscreen and then quickly drank a cup and a half of coffee.  I felt fantastic, rested and ready to go.  I opened the window, took a deep breath and blew out through the screen expecting to see my breath condensing in the cool night air.  It didn't happen.  In fact, it felt quite balmy out there.  I looked at my phone, didn't believe what it was telling me and refreshed the weather widget.  60 degrees it read.  I refreshed it again.  60 degrees.  A far cry from the mid 30's I had seen in the days leading up to my run.

I made some quick adjustments to what I was wearing, pulling off my arm warmers and stuffing them into my running vest along with my gloves.  I opted to keep my Houdini on for the start as well my headband since I would be wearing my headlamp.  For the life of my I can't figure out how people can wear baseball caps and headlamps at the same time. Doesn't the brim block out the light?!  I had three soft flasks I was carrying that could hold up to 2.2L of water but knowing I had a water source at 4.5 miles at Indian Gardens, I only filled my front two flasks.  I said a quick goodbye to my mom and Jennifer and was out the door.

I was immediately struck by how warm it was quickly followed by the realization that not ten yards away from me stood a huge elk.  She took a pause from eating and raised her head up to look me over before going back to her grazing.  Wilderness experience indeed.  After a quick chuckle I headed towards the Bright Angel Trailhead at a steady walk.  In these warm temps, I wasn't going to really need to warm up.  As I walked, I turned on my inReach, began the tracking as well as sending off a message to family and friends that I had started and made a quick video to post on my IG story.  Then I put my phone in airplane mode, clicked on my headlamp, did a little dance of excitement while letting out a little holler and then began the descent into darkness.

95%, no 99% of my hikes/runs begin with a climb.  For those of you who follow me, you know I live for going up.  It's how I start my day.  So to begin a route with a 4,500' drop was a whole new world to me. I had written on my notes of the route, "don't blow yourself up" three times.  With that in the forefront of my mind, I jogged down Bright Angel Trail at 3:30 AM. I  hadn't even made it to the first switchback when I encountered the first people along the way.  A duo moving slowly up the trail.  I slowed down and asked if everything was ok to which they replied, "Yeah, just a really rough night".  That led to a flurry of questions in my mind but I let them lie, bid the duo good luck and kept descending.  Perhaps I should have paid a bit more attention to their plight...

Those first handful of miles descending towards Indian Garden feel dream like looking back on them. In the darkness being guided by headlamp, I am forced to look more at my feet more than I am use to.  Quick side glances revealed only a wall of darkness rising above and below me.  Looking up at the trail ahead would only give me a glimpse of the rocky trail as it melted into the same black void.  So I continued to focus mostly on my feet, trying to find a good rhythm and stride on a trail littered with steps that weren't spaced consistently.  I lost track of time and distance early on but noted my passing of  the rest areas at 1.5 miles and 3 miles.  The trail was beset with pairs of glowing eyes belonging to all sorts of critters and my first highlight of the day was crossing paths with a lively ringtail.

In less than an hour I was greeted with the sound of running water as I passed through a little oasis known as Indian Garden.  I filled up with water here having already drank my 1L from the start of the trip. I was drinking water far faster than I anticipated as the dry desert air kept mouth feeling parched. I tried to breathe as much as I could through my nose but I was still feeling the lingering effects of a cold that I had been fighting for two weeks.  I tried taking small sips of water frequently to keep the cotton mouth at bay but it was a losing battle.  I made note that in future desert trips to haul along gum or some kind of hard candy to try and keep my mouth from drying out.  The trail flattened out after Indian Gardens for about a mile and I was surprised to see the trail become a creek bed for a while.  Getting my feet wet had never crossed my mind on this route and i was glad that I had put on Trail Toes before starting out as it prevents foot maceration as well as blisters.  Then I hit another big drop filled with switchbacks.  Still running in the dark, the landscape around me was hidden but as the temps were already rising, I understood that a sacrifice had to be made to get miles under my feet before it began to really get warm.

The trail leveled off again as it progressed through a narrow canyon.  Finally dawn was starting to show itself and I clicked my headlamp off.  I rounded a bend with a small climb and suddenly there before me was the mighty Colorado.  I was struck by the nearly green tone of the water, and the speed at which it was moving.  I have done lots of whitewater rafting on the rivers of the Pacific Northwest but none of them hint at the power of this river. I found it majestic, awe inspiring and terrifying all at once. The trail turned eastward here, tracing the canyon wall along the river.  My timing couldn't have been better as the sky brightened up above me, setting the canyon walls aglow.  As I crossed the suspension bridge I couldn't help but think of my parents and what they must have been thinking as they drifted on their rafts below this bridge on their own personal journeys through the canyon.

Across the bridge and into what felt like a whole lot of civilization again at the Bright Angel Campground and Phantom Ranch.  As I jogged along this section I waved at the campers who were enjoying their morning coffee, gave some high fives and then refilled my water near the Phantom Ranch Canteen. I had made it here in two hours which was faster than my goal time but I was feeling strong, hydrated and well fueled.  Leaving the Ranch behind me, the trail follows along Bright Angel Creek and the climb is so gradual that you hardly notice it.  I kept up at a jogging pace here as I remained in the shadows and hidden from the sun.  I knew that I had about nine miles until the true climb up to the North Rim and figured I would take advantage of the pleasant grade.

It was here that the route started to feel a bit tedious.  Now remember, I am the guy who digs going up and down trails like Cable Line, Mailbox, Section Line, Mount Si...over and over again.  Yet, here I found myself struggling to connect with the landscape around me. I kept looking down at my watch to see how far I had come, getting frustrated with myself for doing so, I switched it to the screen that showed only the time.  I tried every little trick I know to get dialed in but was unsuccessful.  Finally I just started pushing a bit, the faster I ran, the sooner I would be to the big climb right?  Now I wasn't sprinting by any means but I was starting to put ten and eleven minute miles in.  Couple this with temps that were starting to push over 70 degrees and all of a sudden what was about to happen isn't much of a surprise.  I hadn't seen a 70 degree day in over six months.  The majority of my training over the winter had been in temps around 40 degrees.  I was heading to a blow up.

The sun starts hitting the canyon walls

About 17 miles in, I ambled through Cottonwood Canyon and much to my surprise heard a "Stuke" bellowing from the trees.  Sure enough, a dude named Chris recognized me.  Pretty normal up in my neck of the woods but entirely unexpected at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.  We made small talk for a few minutes before I headed out again.  My mouth continued to be dry and I continued to drink frequently to try and alleviate it.  I had drank so much that there was water sloshing around in my stomach as I ran.   Finally the trail started to climb a bit more seriously and I slowed to a power walking pace.  The sun began to touch the bottom of the Canyon and the temps continued to rise.  At close to mile 19 I finally crossed the creek and took a break at Manzanita.  It was here the climb to the North Rim truly begins.  I refilled my water, ate a bit of food and then in soaring spirits started the ascent to the rim.

The first two miles are fairly gradual, climbing just 1,100' but the trail was in the direct sunlight and it was here I really started to feel the heat.  I also passed a gentlemen who was biking the Arizona Trail.  Because you can't ride your bike through the canyon, those who look to complete the trail, break their bikes down and haul them across the canyon.  I felt like quite the weight weenie as I stopped and shared a few minutes with this man.  Despite our different modes of travel, I still felt a strong sense of camaraderie with him.  We parted ways knowing we would cross paths once again and the climb continued.  To my south, panoramic views started to open up and the trail steepened.  I made a game of looking ahead, trying to figure out just where the trail went in an area dominated by cliffs.  Here the trail become the most interesting during my journey.  Blasted out of rock and taking advantage of any type of chink in the armor of the canyon, it meandered it's way up the canyon walls.  In spots the drop off was vertigo inducing and I hugged the canyon wall.  Then it happened, as the trail steepened, my heart started racing. The pounding in my ears and chest that I usually get at higher altitudes.  No biggie I thought, you are just sucking wind a bit here even though I was only at about 5,500'. I slowed my pace to allow myself to catch my breath and get my heart rate down.  But it didn't happen, my heart continued to race.



Now most struggles in the mountains I can deal with, fight through or just plain ignore.  However, a racing heart will get my full attention.  I paused for a few minutes, told myself again that it was the altitude and started back up again moving even slower.  Again, my heart rate shot up accompanied by nausea.  Despite my plodding pace I passed a couple of hikers and I told myself again that I was fine, that I just needed to slow down more.  Yet it was a completely unfamiliar feeling to get so winded on such a mellow grade.  Something wasn't right.  I continued to shuffle up the trail, heart pounding harder and harder.  Then the vomiting began.  I looked up and could see the light colored cliff bands that indicated the canyon rim.  It seemed so close that I could touch it. I paused for another five minutes and then began climbing.  My heart rate shot up in less than a minute and I could feel it skipping a beat here and there.



I sat down on a rock, threw up again then pulled my phone out.  I checked Gaia and could see just how close I was.  But my physical condition was deteriorating so rapidly and I wasn't to the halfway point yet. I sat there for minutes mulling over my options but my thinking was dominated by the fact that I had nearly 23 miles to get back to the south rim and that in my current condition, that was a very serious proposition.  I got up and started climbing hoping the longer break would have helped.  It didn't.  Suddenly there was no debate in my mind, I had to turn around.  I began to descend before once again being racked by vomiting.  I pulled out my inReach and messaged my team that I was in bad shape and turning around.  In hindsight I could have been more clear with my message as it was short and not very descriptive.  At that point my team became very concerned with my well being and our communication was frustrated by a lack of a back up plan and spotty communication within the canyon.  Lessons we learned from and will not repeat in the future.

Descending the North Rim Trail

I started descending again and after a few very rough minutes, I began to feel better.  I was able to pick up my speed a bit without my heart rate spiking.  I became convinced that it was the altitude and that I would be fine once I was at lower elevations.  Looking back I am not sure how I convinced myself of this as I have only had altitude issues once and that was at 12,000'.  After a couple of miles of walking downhill, I tried to break into a jog but was hit with side stitches on both sides of my torso almost immediately.  So it was back to walking.   As I neared Manzanita, the nausea returned.  I took a second break at that water source, filled up again with water and then headed out.  The canyon was cooking at this point.  I pulled my buff over my head, covering my face and neck, held it in place with my baseball cap and poured water over my head.  This was a very effective means of keeping cool and possible with all the water nearby. I also noted that my mouth was not as parched when I had a wet buff covering it. Another lesson.

I then began the long slog along the canyon towards Phantom Ranch.  It is in this stretch the the temps soared to the upper 90's and even hit 100 degrees at one point. I had no idea at the time as the wet buff/baseball cap combination was keeping me pretty cool.  I still couldn't run as I the side stitches would return and all my little breathing tricks I have used before to alleviate them was not working.  I wanted to run so badly at this point but was stuck at a 16 to 17 min/mile pace.  I would have good miles and then bad miles but wouldn't allow myself to stop for longer than five minutes.  I knew I wanted to keep moving towards Phantom Ranch.  This nine mile stretch is fairly blank for me as I focused on putting one foot in front of the other and ignoring my physical struggles.

As I neared Phantom Ranch, I began to hit another low point but kept resisting the urge to sit in a shady spot knowing how much I would struggle to resume moving.  Finally I rounded a corner, saw the trees and knew I was close.  Of course once at the ranch I had to poke around to try and find the Canteen but what sweet relief it was when I saw the sign and entered through the door.  Finally I could get a cold coke in my hand!!!  Except that they didn't have any.  It was beer or lemonade.  But the sweet, cold lemonade hit the spot and I ran once again into Chris.  I sat next to him and his partner, trying to gather myself up.  They were so encouraging and offered anything they had at their disposal to me.  I rested at Phantom Ranch for about half an hour, re-hydrating with electrolytes and lemonade.  I was feeling much better and pushed off again. In hindsight, I should have spent another half hour at the Ranch but I felt pressure to continue on with my team waiting for me.

The two miles after the ranch went smoothly and I felt like I had turned the corner on this day that had turned so ugly.  I joked with fellow hikers, munched on cashews and made small talk with some mules.  I once again was struck by the power of the river as I crossed the suspension bridge and even looked up at the South Rim thinking, "It's not that far now!".  Ha.

I left the river and began the climb up at about 3:30 PM.  Twelve hours after I had departed. Within short order, my heart was racing once again and I found myself vomiting all the liquids I had managed to keep down for a bit.   My pace slowed to a crawl once again and suddenly the South Rim seemed like a world away.  It was in the next two miles that I hit the lowest I have ever been on the trail.  My legs wanted to give out, I wanted so badly to just lie down on the side of the trail and call it, I was vomiting violently every ten minutes.  It was pretty flipping bad.

Temps in the Canyon on my return

I started to set the smallest of goals, get to that rock and rest.  Get to that sliver of shade and rest. I lamented not bringing poles so that I could lean on them while I puked (that never crossed my mind when prepping my gear list).  I wasn't moving fast but I was moving.  In my mind I knew that if I could just get to Indian Gardens, I could rest, catch up on hydration and food while waiting for the sun to go down.  I kept plodding forward, eventually I found myself wading through the stream that covered the trail and I knew I was close.  Then the pump house was in site, then the campground.  Finally,  I spotted the ranger station and made my way to the front porch.  It wasn't a ranger I was looking for but the big chairs on the front porch of the station, the cool shade it was sitting in and the emergency supply of food and first aid sitting next to the chair.  I plopped down on the chair, started guzzling electrolytes and eating salt and vinegar chips.  I messaged Jennifer and my dad and assured them that I would be fine, that I was getting exactly what I needed and would be on my way again soon.  As I sat there I watched a glorious light snow on the opposite canyon wall as the sun dipped below the horizon.

At seven PM, I left the porch of the ranger station, refilled my bottles and resumed the journey to the canyon rim.  I felt like a new human and while I wasn't running up the trail, the 2.5 mph that I was moving felt pretty darn fast.  I hit the rest area at 3 miles in a little over a half hour, took a break there to watch the last of the daylight fade, then put my headlamp on and continued the journey.  Once again the world shrunk down to what was illuminated by my headlamp.  In a little over an hour I was at the rest area at 1.5 miles and I sat down for a few minutes to allow myself to soak in the events of the day in this last quiet spot before hitting civilization at the rim.

Sunset from Indian Garden

On the second to last switchback I came across a person sprawled across the trail.  At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.  But then the person lifted their head and whispered, "water?".   I knelt beside them and they again asked me for water.  I pulled out all that I had and took out their bottles and filled them.  I got them to sit up and after a few sips they explained to me that they had run out of water a long time ago and eventually their legs just gave out.  They had been laying on the trail hoping for someone to come by.   We shared our stories of suffering for a few minutes as I watched him to make sure he was alright.  I then pointed to the light at the rim above us and told him that was the end of the trail.  The smile on his face when I shared this news made my day.  I asked him if he was ready to get up and go but he wanted to sit a bit longer.  Knowing Jennifer was waiting for me at the rim, I bid him good luck and farewell.  Five minutes later I was at the trailhead, in a surreal world of gift shops, restaurants and street lights.  My personal odyssey was over.

Faces of bonking

Unlike Moab, I was recovered for the most part the next day.  I needed to replace liquids and eat a lot of calories but no soreness, no nasuea, no problems keeping things down even immediately afterwards.  Moab took me days to get back on my feet.  In the end I believe I just went out too fast and was unprepared for the heat that hit on my climb up the North Rim.  If I had to do it again in that kind of heat I would have planned for a big break in the bottom of the canyon while waiting for things to cool down.  I would have packed a ton of electrolyte mix.  I haven't ever felt the need for it before but in this climate it is a must.  I would probably also have gotten an even earlier start which means missing more of the canyon in the dark but since much of it was tedious to me anyway I suppose that running it in the dark I wouldn't feel like I was missing anything.  Unrelated to the running but I would have also organized my support and logistics a lot differently.

Ice cream the morning after! 

What went right, my kit performed flawlessly.  All the gear was perfect for the situation (added screenshot of gear list).  I at times regretted not having poles but that was only because it would have been easier to lean on them when I was getting sick than just having my hands on my knees.  Sorry for that visual.  My training was good with the exception of being prepared for the heat.  As I said, I was fully recovered the next day with no sore muscles other than my stomach and ribs which was unrelated to running!  I didn't eat near all my calories but there were there and available if needed.  My biggest shortcoming in fueling was not getting something like pizza or cheeseburgers along the way but in the end, that food wouldn't have stayed in my system for long.  I just wish I could figure out how to keep a cold coke with me!

Lessons

Main Tiger Mountain Road 

On January 20th, 2014 I embarked on my first trail run ever.  A ten mile trot down the old Carbon River Road to Isput Campground and back.  In fact, I am not sure I would even classify it as a trail run as most of it was gravel road but nevertheless I was hooked. A few days later I would embark on my first trail run on Tiger Mountain and marvel at the beauty that was so close to home.  In that first full year of trail running I would take on two runs that were 50 kilometers long (more on that later).

Fast forward exactly three years to the date of that first trail run and you would find me out on Tiger Mountain again completing the 12 Summits Route and knocking out my first ultra distance adventure of 2017.  There are two things I will always remember about this day.  The first being the now comical interaction between myself and a surly owl.  At the time it wasn't funny as she dive bombed me twice at close range.  After alighting upon a branch after the first swoop, our discussion was civil, polite even.  But after the second dive bomb I let loose with a tirade full of obscenities to which she replied with what has to be the most effective form of resting bitch face I have ever seen.  The second and more important part of that run was the fact that it was the first outing in months that I felt no pain in my pelvis.

Summit of East Tiger

In September of 2015 I hurt myself late on day one of my Wonderland Loop.  After the injury, a descent of any kind caused  pain in my pelvis which then spread up my back and down to my left leg.  Running was pretty much out of the question yet walking was doable.  It hurt, but I could live with it.  My insurance at the time was lame and so I spent the rest of the year hiking and easing up on the steep stuff.  To make a long story short, it allowed me to work on my mental conditioning , to slow down and appreciate the trail in a different way.  Most of all it helped me to understand that I could still cover large distances of terrain as I managed to cover over 260 miles in the month of December.

Perhaps it was a lesson the Universe wanted me to learn and it felt the timing was right for it to be taught. I know not to question these things much anymore and just go with the flow of them.  I had settled into a different rhythm on the trail, my understanding that for me the most important value I held was being out and immersed in Nature, not the method I was using to travel though her.  Then just as suddenly as the pain had appeared, it disappeared.  One day it was there, the next it was gone.  With over 18k of elevation change, the 12 Summit Route is no slouch and yet, nothing.  It's as if a switch that had turned the pain on had been flicked to the "off" position.

I hit the trail the next day, a shorter Tiger Mountain offering that was a sublime route in spring like conditions.  I soaked in the suns rays, and found new artifacts along the old railroad lines that cut their way across the mountain flanks.  Felt a curious and powerful energy on a trail I rarely visited and in the spirit of exploration on a mountain I am so familiar with, still managed to find an unmarked trail that cut through the second growth and deposited me on a trail I knew so well.  Dozens of times I have gone by this spot and failed to notice it.  A surprise gift from the mountain.  And again, no pain.

Grand Ridge Trail

I decided the time had come to try running.  I turned to the most gentle of trails I know in the area, Grand Ridge and did a 13 mile out-and-back, running where I felt comfortable but never kicking it up more than a trot.  I finished the run in 2:34 which isn't some blazing speed, but after months of walking, it sure felt like it.  I was forced to acknowledge that I truly had missed running as much as I denied it.  It was a tool in my outdoor arsenal that I was so happy to have at my disposal again.

I told myself I would "take it easy" and slowly work my way back into it but I could quickly see it just wasn't going to work out that way.  What followed has been a stretch of trail time unlike any other that I have had.  In the last 22 days I have completed six routes of over 50k. A far cry from that two that I completed in a full year. Three of those have been over 44 miles.  In the darkest, wettest months where trail time can be so difficult to be had, I have taken full advantage of the mostly snow free paths at lower elevations.  Knowing that the mountains I love to roam are buried under snow where risk of avalanche has been so high for so long, I have been content below the treeline, admiring a world so close to the city.

Instead of focusing on each run, I thought I would share just some highlights from these past three weeks.  Certain moments that stand out to me.

The smooth trail and my feet a blur to me as I looked down while picking up speed on the Tiger Mountain Trail.  The feeling of just how fast I was moving as the trunks of the trees lining the trail flashed by quicker and quicker.  The bursts of warm sun on my face from between those trunks.  I was taken by the moment, the surging power I felt and let loose a yell of pure joy.  While it can be argued that you see more when you are going slower, there is no doubt in my mind that you feel more when you are running.

Walking through the forest slowly, utter silence around me as I paused to feel each tree trunk that I passed.  The sunlight through the forest canopy highlighting specks of dust floating in the air.  I sit down for a few moments taking it all in. I realize I have no idea what time it is or how long I have been out there.  Timelessness.

Lenticulars on Tahoma

Climbing my way up the forested
flanks of Tiger Mountain in the twilight of pre-dawn, I lift my eyes upward, my sight filled with a dozen shades of pink and purple through the black silhouettes of the tree branches.  The sun is approaching and a brilliant light show is promised.  I intensify my efforts on the climb, burst down the road between West Tiger II and I and make  the viewpoint on Tiger I just as the sun emerges.  I watch this sunrise in awe, having it all to myself in this spot.  Around Tahoma lenticular clouds play.

On a cold but windless night jogging across a bridge over Lake Washington in the distance the skyscrapers of downtown Seattle indicate my finishing point.  Those same structures I had spotted earlier in the day from West Tiger I and marveled that my own two feet would take me to them.  The water on the lake is as smooth as glass and I realize that there is beauty to be found in urban adventuring for those who are ready to see it.

Message to the traveler before entering the I90 Tunnel

The next morning, jogging down the sidewalk on Broadway the only other people I see are a couple of drunken holdovers from the night prior stumbling down the street and the clerk in a convenience store looking out.  He holds his hand up and I wave to him in return.  A huge smile flashes across his face and I can't help but do the same.  In that moment, I know my day will be memorable.

And very wet.

Hours later, ascending Poo Poo Point Trail I climb into a thick mist and the forest surrounding me takes on an eerie tone.  The lush greens that I am use to become muted and everything turns to different shades of gray.  I have traveled 75 miles in the last 28 hours through some of the most challenging weather.  It's been raining most of the time with the temps never rising above 40 degrees.  My feet have been soaked from the start, my cold hands crammed as far into my pockets as I can get them as my gloves are saturated with water, yet my spirits remain high.  Two years ago I wouldn't have even ventured out in this weather.  Now I look at it as just another side of Nature to be appreciated.  A few hours later I am back at my car, an out-and-back from the Summit Trailhead of Tiger Mountain to my front door complete.  An incredibly diverse mix of forest and urban environments.  Ideas for future routes swirling through my mind. 

Playing on Cougar Mountain

Days later a huge snowstorm hits, blanketing the entire area in snow.  I want to get a quick run in before work and head to Cougar Mountain.  Everything is covered in white and not long into my run, a light snow begins to fall.  I lose myself in the moment, and turn to playing and laughing in the snow.  I am sure to the outside observer I look like a complete lunatic but I am overcome by this sudden euphoria.  This winter wonderland speaks to me in a way I didn't expect and I find myself so thankful to get another chance to see these local trails covered in snow.



Finally as darkness settles over me after a long day on the trails, a big light surprises me through the trees.  Perhaps the effort of nearly 50 miles on the day has my senses a bit jumbled.  The light is coming from an area where the trail doesn't go.  I keep moving and it grows larger, the color of it a dull yellow.  I stop and then realize it is the moon breaking the horizon and glimpsed momentarily through breaks in the trees.  I turn my headlamp off, letting my eyes adjust to the dark. It feels as though every creature in the forest is silent and paying homage to this celestial object.  I switch my headlamp back on and continue to a clearing where I know I will get a better view. By the time I reach my destination, the moon has risen to above the trees.  Light wisps of cloud encircle her, but not so opaque as to block out the slightly darker tones of the craters on her surface.  It dawns on me that this object that I am looking at is 239,000 miles from me.  I let that sink in for a moment before heading back out for the final mile of my route.

Climbing the sun dappled trail on Squak Mountain

A handful of moments from a short period of time that I thought worth sharing.  A reminder that each step is the journey and is unique.  With an open mind and senses, paths you have traveled so many times before can reward you with a completely new experience on any given day. 

On a different note, I must apologize for the recent lack of material.  I have wanted to write more in-depth about some of my recent routes but found myself struggling to do so.  As easy as outdooring (I'm pretty sure that's not a word but I'm going with it) comes to me, writing does not.  I am not going to give up on it but realize that I probably won't be as proficient as some would hope. Again, if there is anything specific you as a reader would like to read more about, please let me know.

The Numbers Game - A Recap of 2016

If you aren't into numbers or stats than this quick piece is probably not going to be your cup of tea.  I have two rough drafts of 2016 recaps sitting in my Google Docs folder.  In them I had hoped to concentrate not on the numbers of the year, but what I had done to achieve those numbers.  I found that I was struggling to get my message across, spending large amounts of time just staring at the screen realizing I wasn't even close to conveying what I felt.  I am not sure why it took nearly two weeks but suddenly yesterday I understood I needed to put those pieces aside, all I was doing was fighting against the flow.  So instead, I have given into the inner numbers geek in me and will let that person come out for a few short moments. 

So without further ado, an orgy of numbers in what I promise will be one of the few times I succumb to a little ego stroking. 

 

A nice pretty graph from Excel

First off, I went into 2016 without any yearly goals.  I just wanted to focus on getting out as much as possible, especially in the winter months in conditions that were not favorable.  I felt that it would be best to condition my mind and body during those months so I could hit the summer in full stride.  If I can pass on one piece of advice to you from this, take full advantage of the winter.  It will make your summer so much more enjoyable.  Trust me.

In 2015, I just missed hitting 2,000 miles but had achieved my goal of 500,000' of gain in November.  I ended up around 550,000' for that year.  As I started 2016 I didn't  really consider that I would pass my 2015 yearly numbers, much less crush them.  I ended the year at 2,512 miles.  It can be hard to grasp how far that is so I will try and make it easier.  That's the equivalent of walking out of my place in Seattle and traveling along I-90 all the way to Kingsville, Ohio about 60 miles east of Cleveland.  Only I did it all on non-paved surfaces.  It took me 867 trail hours to accomplish this (I didn't track moving hours).  This averages to a pretty unspectacular 2.9 mph. 

Maybe the 771,000' of vertical gain slowed me down.  This is the number that still leaves me shaking my head.  A human who was mostly sedentary just four years earlier can achieve the same amount of gain as climbing 26 Mount Everests from sea level.  An average of 889 feet of gain per hour over the year.  Now I feel better about the speed!  I wanted more consistency in 2016 with my gain and I definitely made that happen with 36 of the first 38 weeks having at least 10,000' of gain.  The first nine months of the year I had at least 50,000' of gain per month.  In September those numbers all dropped off as I nursed an injury from my Wonderland Trip.

Each time I stepped onto a trail, I averaged 17 miles and 5,285 feet of gain in six hours.  I truly appreciate these numbers as so many of those 146 days on the trail were quick runs before going into work.  My longest stretch of time off during the year was only a week and I spent a few of those free days getting a root canal.  My weekly averages,  48 miles and 15,000' of climbing.  Monthly averages 209 miles and 64,000' of gain.   June was incredible.  The month began with a car-to-car on Glacier and ended with a car-to-car on Mount Olympus.  That month I set new highs in mileage (294) and elevation gain (97,000').  My biggest week was 112 miles with 37,000' of gain. 

Some other tidbits.  27 outings that were of "ultra" distance (>26.2 miles).  15 days with at least 10,000' of climbing.  239 summits a good amount of those Tiger summits, but also 15 new Bulger summits.  A side note, turning my focus to the Bulger list was one of the best things to happen in the year.  It opened up so many "new" areas to me and also challenged my to really bring my "A" game, combining trail running, cross country traveling, navigation, scrambling, and mountaineering into one. 

Some of the moments that stick out to me:  Completing the Wonderland, Section J of the PCT in 36 hours, Glacier Peak (twice), Mount Olympus, my Enchantment "Super" Loop, my six-peat of Cable Line, my Tiger 13 Summit day with 16,000' of gain,  Mount Hood in under five hours, a 46 mile North Bend Loop, the North Bend Trifecta all on foot, bailing off the Carne Mountain High Traverse and deciding to do the Spider Gap loop just a week or two before the fires shut the area down, the Mailbox to Mount Defiance Traverse, the Entiat Grand Slam, six Bulger Peaks to celebrate my 42nd birthday.   It just goes on and on...

So what made this all possible? I will try and make it as simple as I can.  I continued to try and cultivate the mentality of being present in the moment.  To enjoy each and every step while out in the mountains, to find the beauty in both the grand and also small things that I came upon while out there.  To "go with the flow" and not get hung up on goals, or to give in to the moment and follow what felt right.  If I wanted to run, I ran.  If running didn't feel like right, I walked.  I lost track of how many times I changed my mind while driving to one mountain because another mountain suddenly called to me.  I learned to listen to my gut more and turned around on so many mountains just because it didn't feel right.  No regrets afterwards.  I challenged my paradigms.  At the end of the year, being forced to walk I took a break from the mountains thinking what good is it if I can't move fast?  But I missed them, and returned to the trail and found that walking was just as good as running if I was just dialed into the present.  I also learned just how far one can walk in a day.  It served as a reset for me and ironically helped me to understand that I could do even grander adventures.

If you love numbers like me, don't feel bad about embracing them.  But as someone said recently on a group I belong to, don't become a slave to them.  Use them to your benefit, but don't find yourself being driven by them.  Nature should serve as all the motivation you need to get out on the trail as much as possible.

Oh and one last number, 32 bean burritos consumed.