The AltraPedestrian Project, Installment zero1

The AltraPedestrian Project, Installment zero1
   

by Ras

     Long ago in my backpacking career I came to the realization that big, heavy boots which incapacitate your feet are unnatural, uncomfortable, and unhealthy. I began wearing minimalist trail running shoes (Inov-8 Roclites) to backpack in long before I began running ultra distances. It was simply logical to me that at most a shoe should be a tool for your foot to use, not a device to alter or inhibit the natural foot and lower leg functions of flexing, splaying, gripping, and (dare I say it?) pronating.

     But I like shoes and am very interested in them as an ancient human technology. Ötzi, the 5300 year old paleolithic man discovered frozen on a glacier in the Alps in 1991, wore rudimentary (i.e. minimalist) shoes. And the modern equivalents are fascinating, if cumbersome. I often walk around the start of races scoping out people's shoes, occasionally meeting a look that seems to say, "My eyes are up here."

     Last year, preparing for the Pigtails Challenge 200 Mile Endurance Run (see my Race Report Here and Nutrition & Fueling Report Here) I knew that I needed a shoe with some midsole. Again, a tool for my feet to use. When retrieving a piping hot casserole from the oven one uses an oven mitt; there's no possibility of going 'minimal', one needs a tool to do something with one's hand that would otherwise cause harm or damage.

     I began the race with only 18 training miles on my new Altra Lone Peaks, and finished with no blisters and no hotspots, and that was just the beginning. I went on to wear the same pair of Altras for the Echo Valley 50 Miler, 3 days of a four day recon run of the Wonderland (68 miles), the White River 50 Miler, the Angel's Staircase 60k, the Cascade Crest 100 miler, the Double Wonderland (186 miles), the Baker Lake 50k, the Deception Pass 50k, and the 2013 Fort Ebbey Kettles Trail Marathon, as well as a running of the Looit Trail around the base of Mt St Helens and all of my training mileage. 

     I lost track of the cumulative mileage on that pair of shoes at 1600 miles, and that is a conservative accounting. Altra Zero Drop Footwear has blessed me with an Ambadassadorship for 2013 and sent me a brand new pair of Lone Peaks. So in a spirit of research and exploration I am going to publish a precise running total each month on this blog of the miles run in my new pair of Altra Lone Peaks, as well as photos showing wear and tear. Hence the title, The AltraPedestrian Project.

     Witness, in these two photos, the passing of the baton, the changing of the guard, the handing on of the mantle. My new pair of Lone Peaks is all shiny and clean and new on the top, with my preferred alternate lacing pattern already in place. They have 10 miles on them as of this photo, and I am just heading off to the Badger Mountain Challenge to put the first 100 on them.  

      By comparison, my original pair of Lone Peaks, at bottom in both photos, looks broken in and worn out, but nowhere near as destroyed as one would expect with nearly 2000 miles on them. I made no repairs on them and in the photos at top you can see a few holes in the upper and the metatarsal flex point. It will be fun (and hopefully both challenging and exhausting) to watch the miles add up over this season and document the life of the new pair.

     I mean, realistically, what's more fun for an ultra runner than beating up a pair of shoes?

Running Local: It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Running Local: It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

By Kathy Vaughan

     Hitting the ground hard, I was now suddenly both awake and surprised. I had tripped on the frozen, rutted mud only 2 minutes into my 31 mile self-supported training run. I had no choice but to shake it off, my right knee and elbow now skinned. I was due to meet my friend and running partner Shona Hilton and there was no time for delays. She would join me for some middle miles on this day of running. She lives just 5 miles away at the other end of the dirt road I live on with my husband Ras. This road is called Dry Gulch and it goes through quite an array of conditions throughout the year. The area is the Okanogan Highlands of North Central Washington at 3,500 feet in elevation.

     Right now, we are experiencing spring break-up. Snow has been covering the ground for months and now the temperatures are warming. Dry Gulch is great for driving when its compact snow and ice, manicured regularly and sanded by the snow plow driver. It then goes through a muddy stage when the snow melts, where even the best 4-wheel drive has to be fought with to keep on the road. After the mud dries, it leaves deep ruts, freezing at night in the early spring. During the day it becomes dust, referred to by locals as “moon dust”. Next comes the crazy “washboard” a wavy, rutted road surface which causes you to fishtail if you get up to even 30 mph.. The road is then horrible for running. A passing car kicks up more dust than is safe to breathe. The grader works to repair the washboard throughout the spring and summer, but dust is always there.

     On this day, the conditions were actually great for Dry Gulch. Frozen in the morning, the mud would be soft by mid day. Enough of the road had dried out that I could choose whether or not to run in the mud. My plan was also to get off of Dry Gulch for part of the run. I would enjoy some time on the forest service road that neighbors the 40 acre piece of property where Ras and I live in a rustic lodge we caretake. There is wonderful running, biking and cross-country skiing on this road, which doubles as a section of the Pacific Northwest Scenic Trail. Locals head up the road in the wintertime on snowmobiles. This makes a great pack for running or skiing. I was looking forward to running on it after some dirt road miles, knowing it would feel softer on my feet and be awesome to get away from any possibility of a passing car. Unfortunately, my favorite trails were still too snowy for running.

     Earlier in the week I had been looking at my Bryon Powell Training Plan for a 100 Mile Race. I noticed that at the end of Week 14 ,which I was currently in, I would need to run a 50k distance. Not being signed up for an official 50k race, it would be up to me to put together the route and run it on my own. Ras would be busy working his job as a carpenter, so he would not be able to join me. Pigtails Challenge 100 Miler around Lake Youngs in the Renton area, my first 100 mile race, was happening Memorial Day Weekend no matter what. I was determined to stick to my plan. It was actually fun to brainstorm all of the possible routes I could run to reach that mileage goal. I knew my biggest challenge would be to stay motivated for all of those miles on my own. Mixing up the terrain would be key to keeping it fun.

     The morning was cold and quiet as I ran. I soon saw Shona up ahead, moving towards me as we had planned and that made me smile. She called out “Good Morning” in her cute, Scottish accent. We kept on running to the end of Dry Gulch and then turned alongside a little creek, now visibly flowing after being covered in a layer of ice all winter. In the summer, cows range freely in here, mucking up the creek. It begins to smell like cow pies and the creek water is greenish brown. Right now, the water was looking clean and fresh, running through the snowy banks along its sides. This area would change drastically in only a few months. 

      Shona and I could see Bonaparte Mountain off in the distance and we chatted about the Bonaparte Ultra Ras and I are putting together for the weekend of July 6^th. What distance will we run? We should do hill repeats to train for the big climb to the lookout. We can run it faster this year with another season in us. Isn't it cool that Van Phan and Deby Kumasaka want to come run it? (Huge inspirations to Shona & I, Deby ran seven 100 milers last year and Van won the Washington Grand Slam & the women's division of the Pigtails Challenge 200 miler) They'll love it! . . . .  Ultra runners often spend at least some of their time running talking about other ultra runs they want to do and other ultra runners. Its pretty normal.

     We were on a 3.2 mile out n'back section. Then Shona would run back towards my car/aid station with me on Dry Gulch, to her turn around point. We could see the hardy neighbor ladies up ahead, regular walkers no matter what the weather, both in their early 70's. It took a while to gain on them and I was impressed with their pace. Nothing goes unnoticed in a country neighborhood and sure enough one of the ladies had seen me run by solo earlier and wondered why I now had a partner. One of their dogs was pretty unfriendly towards me, so Shona and I said goodbye and went our separate ways.

M.O.N.T. member and training partner Shona Hilton

     In less than a mile, I was back to my car. I drank half of a refreshing Red Bull, one of my indulgences during endurance efforts, and then decided to get my dog Jesse from the house. He would be fun to have along for some miles, but he was getting too old to join me for all 31. He was very happy indeed and we took off to run the other end of Dry Gulch road, a 4 mile out n'back section. We passed by Eden Valley Guest Ranch in its idyllic setting and another creek, flowing swiftly with snow melt. When I got done with that 4 miles, it was time to hit the snowy forest service road. Jesse loves this kind of running, so it would be fun to keep him with me. I'd completed a little over 15 miles at this point in my run.

     I spent 2 ½ hours in the forest, running on the snowmobile pack. Sometimes the snow was too soft and one or the other foot would sink down up to my knee, “postholing”. This would sometimes catch me off guard and I would fall. I actually enjoyed this though and settled into the idea that my traveling was now quite a bit different than it had been before. The sun was shining. I felt warm and comfortable. I could see young, bright green pines coming up in the old burn area where I was now running. Off in the distance, the rugged and rocky face of Haley Mountain was towering over the scene. I wondered about an access trail to the summit. I was moving towards its base and would then turn, running a 5 ½ mile lollipop trail through forest service land. Some of this trail is a part of the Highlands Halloween Hundred Trail Adventure Run (H3) that Ras and I hold Halloween weekend in October. I took a short break in here, nibbling on a nut mix.

     The snow continued to soften as I ran. By the time I got out to Dry Gulch again, I was postholing on almost every step. I welcomed the road. I was happy with how my Altra Lone Peak trail running shoes were performing in these mixed conditions, transitioning easily from helping me keep good traction in the snow & mud, to giving me the support I needed on the hard pack dirt. I ran ¼ mile or so to get back to my car again. Each time I got there, it was easy to change out water bottles or clothing layers, have something to eat, and resupply my Nathan running vest with Cliff Blocks, nuts and new Perpetuem bottles (a liquid, vegan nutrition drink I can easily sip while running, made by Hammer Nutrition). 

     I felt just right all day in a hat and gloves. I dried my sweaty gloves out in the car between visits. A merino wool sweater with a thermal running hoodie was necessary, even though the sun kept poking through. There was enough of a breeze to keep it a little cool all day. Now it was time to run Jesse back up to the house. The driveway was muddy and snowy. Intermittent puddles made for creative footing. This was the most technical section of the run! Our driveway is ¼ of a mile long, so this would add a half mile onto my route. Jesse was ready to be done and he went inside to lap up some water and lay down on his cozy bed. I was off for more running.

     Now I would repeat the 4 mile section of Dry Gulch. I felt good and relaxed, the benefits of so many hours of running through nature. With the spring melt, birds were returning to the highlands and I had seen my first robins and mountain bluebirds of the season. A bald eagle was perched high in an aspen, watching for the afterbirth the cows had been leaving behind. The sweet melodies of meadowlarks were nice to hear throughout the dirt road running. The mountain chickadees were singing their tunes also, preferring the forest with its large fir & tamarack trees.

     I needed some more mileage after my 4 mile out n'back, so I went back up the snowy road into the forest service land. I felt grateful to be able to mix up the terrain I was running on and enjoy the quiet peacefulness that I felt as soon as I entered the forest. I ran up the road for ½ hour and then turned around. Back at the driveway, all that was left of my adventure was to check the mailbox ¼ mile away, run up the messy driveway and back down the final ¼ mile to the car.

     The calm of late afternoon was surrounding me now. I felt a stillness in me like this time of day has, when activity comes to a close and dusk has not quite settled. The remaining daylight brought with it a sense of everything being just right. I had finished my self-supported ultra training run. It had been really fun and not as challenging as I thought it would be. During this same season, 2 years ago, I was just beginning trail running. I would steadfastly refuse to run the driveway at the beginning and end of runs for some reason, no matter how much Ras gently prodded. Now as Ras pulled up, finishing his work day, he was just in time to see me come running down the muddy driveway, a coincidence we could not have planned. 

     Done running for the day, I could now go in by the woodstove, warm up and cook a delicious meal of tofu scramble. Its really awesome being able to put together my own ultra distance run right out my front door. Turns out, staying happy and engaged in a run in my own neighborhood is not a problem after all.

My Ultrarunning Gear/Favorite Stuff List:

1. Nathan running vest (I have 2 sizes, depending on the distance & support available)
2. Nathan hand bottle with a spare bottle (or 2) filled & packed in my vest; if I will be filtering water, I bring a Sawyer water filter
3. Nathan 10 ounce flasks with Hammer Perpetuem, each flask holding a 2 hr. supply
4. Justin's nut butter pouches; baggies of nuts or seeds; peanut butter sandwich on sprouted grain bread; homemade peanut butter & dark chocolate energy ball; avacado
5. Clif Blocks (although I'm currently switching to Gu Chomps for the amino acid benefit)
6. Injinji toe socks (completely prevents blisters for me)
7. Altra Lone Peaks trail running shoes (zero drop design has been great for ankle stability & healing)
8. Smart Wool quarter zip, mid-weight merino wool sweater (perfect for layering, year round)
9. Brooks Thermal Running Hoodie (awesome warm outer layer with pocket for mp3 player)
10. KT brand kinesiotape (taping on both ankles has been giving me great support & confidence after having been prone to ankle rolls)
11. Black Diamond Z Poles (for runs with lots of climbing)
12. mp3 player loaded with Raggae Dancehall mixed tapes

The Future Of Ultrarunning

The Future Of Ultrarunning
   
Hypothesis: The Parallel Paths Of Trailrunning, Fastpacking, and Thruhiking Eventually Intersect

Wherein I address the question, Is the introduction of bigger prize purses at trail races a positive or negative thing overall?




by Ras

     As I have been oft heard to quip, I am a backpacker who became a back-of-the-packer, although even that pedigree is dubious. But trail culture is definitely my foundation. The practices and accoutrements of road and track running are foreign to me, sometimes downright offensive. Give me a trailhead over a starting corral any day. (I live in cattle country, so I'm uncomfortable being corralled. Neuterdom and the slaughterhouse are two common destinations for which a corral is a layover point.) I pack it in and pack it out. Images of bulldozers pushing up mounds of plastic cups horrify me. 'Leaving it all on the course' is an alien concept to me. My worldview presupposes the need or desire to cover the same amount of mileage again this afternoon, and tomorrow.

     When you finish running or fastpacking or thruhiking a long trail, there is no one to cheer, no beverages and barbecue, and no lane bordered with colored flags leading to an inflatable finish arch, a novelty sized clock display, and a smiling race director. The tourists look at you sideways, wondering if you're safe to approach, and only you know what you have just accomplished. And no one hands you a check.

     Prize purses are a product of road and track running culture, as are many other common practices at trail races. I don't have a moral or ethical objection to using financial enticements to elicit elite performances, a carat on a stick if you will, but I take issue with the extremely narrow scope of achievement which is celebrated in road and track culture.  In a paradigm where speed is the only ideal, that end shapes its own means and defines the character of it's races.

     Distances have to be standardized. Measurements must be precise. Yes, 50k is an unnaturally round number (although 31 miles has a seemingly organic awkwardness to it), but standardized distances make it possible to compare times across the country, around the world, and on a variety of not dissimilar courses. (Try juxtaposing the results of the Boston Marathon, the Comrades Marathon, and the Barkley Marathons and you'll quickly see.) But whether it's a traditional 26.2 miles, a 5k, or a 100 miler, the measurement defines the marathon and the distance decides the course.

     Is this a positive or negative thing overall? Neither. It's just what it is. It's a factor, a shaping force in the evolution of trail running.

     Prize money can draw elite runners, and I'm the first to admit the excitement of witnessing the fastest of the fast face off. I love the long term strategy of a physical and mental contest that stretches out over hours and hours. And while races such as the Chucknut 50k and Speedgoat 50k have done an excellent job of using monetary prizes to bring top competition their way, not a few of the best showdowns in recent years have been at Western States, where no prize money is on offer.

     The reality is that the majority of trail runners, the bulk of the pack, the 99%, will never touch a podium, let alone cash a prize check. In essence, elite runners are playing a different game than most of us are. They are competing in a different sport: Competitive Running.

     Here begins the prognostication. I foresee a future wherein the trail running scene, through an accelerated form of natural selection, becomes apportioned into specialized niches. I believe we are already seeing this. 

     Competitive Running will continue toward homogeneity. As sponsors invest more and more money into athletes and races, they will expect those athletes and races to produce more and more money. This will be accomplished not by bringing the average person onto the trail, but by bringing trail running into the average person's living room via television and internet. 

     Multiple loop courses will become de rigueur because they facilitate broadcasting. The smaller the loop, and the more laps required to make the distance, the less race and media infrastructure will be needed to create a network quality sports show. A fleet of cameramen is far more affordable than a fleet of helicopters, which would be needed to film a point to point 100 miler. Profits will increase, and with them will come all the baggage and benefits of any professional sport.

     Conversely, Adventure Running, running for challenge, achievement, and experience, will follow its bliss away from the trappings and limitations of Competitive Running.  

     I foresee the advent of the Age of the Non-Standard Distance, organic distances based on geographic features. Classic trails, mountains, and rivers will define race courses. Upon completion of the 93 mile Wonderland Trail around the base of Mount Rainier, in Washington State, one doesn't think, "Just seven more miles and it would have been perfect." Running around The Mountain is enough, and if 93 is the number, then 93 is just fine. In trail culture each trail stands on it's own as a test piece. How does the Tahoe Rim Trail compare to the Rim to Rim to Rim? It doesn't. It doesn't have to. The trail, the environs, and the geographic features define the course. The measurement is an afterthought.

     New paradigms of achievement will arise. Speed will still be valued, but not at the expense of everything else, more in terms of efficiency. Style, in the alpine sense of technique or methodology, will be more highly revered. Sustainability in every sense will become a paramount ethic; not only in terms of making use of the natural world in a way that preserves it, but also in a way that preserves the athlete and promotes their well being and continued striving. Unsupported, self supported, and multi-day events will proliferate, allowing fastpackers and hikers to participate in some of the same events as ultrarunners and trail runners. Fastest Known Times, Only Known Times, Thruhikes, and Peak Bagging will capture the imagination and ambitions of greater numbers of runners. 
     
     But this is a trajectory that was plotted well before substantial prize money came into play. Large prize purses are a factor, a breeze, an influence, but not an evolutionary force in and of themselves. The real force driving this evolution is the human drive to push, to test, to challenge, and to find that elusive new thing under the sun.

Highlands Challenge #2: Diamonds In The Snow

By Kathy Vaughan


     The promise of sunshine and warmer temperatures helped my friend Lisa and I choose this day for our second Highlands Challenge of the season. We would ski all of the trails in the Highlands Sno Park in the Okanogan Highlands in one go, a total of 30 miles of skiing. This would be our 3^rd ultra-distance ski.

     But on this early morning, the sky was gray and the temperature remained cold when Lisa and I met at the trailhead at 7:30. Lisa is a great cross-country skiing partner. We have a lot in common, like following a vegan diet and enjoying what grows from the earth. She makes wonderful soaps and pine needle baskets. We first met at a local winter ice fishing festival several years ago. I was selling little scrap fabric & wool dolls that I make while she was vending her wares. 

     During the summers, she works on trails. She heads out into the Pasayten Wilderness, carrying everything she needs on her back plus a huge cross-cut saw and clears the trees that have come down across the trails over the winter. She goes out for 9 day stretches at a time, no matter what the weather. Early season can mean traveling through lots of snow and making her way across waist high, early season creeks, swift with snow melt. My 19 year old daughter Angela went out on her first ever “hitch” with Lisa last summer and no matter what their circumstance (traversing a snowy slope under a cornice of snow, coming across a wolverine, unhappy to see them) she said Lisa always held her cool. That has proven to be true. She always has a smile on her face.

My excellent ski partner Lisa.

     We decided to start our ski in the lower meadow as icy conditions might still be hanging on higher up from the overnight cold. My large capacity Nathan vest was loaded with 2 water bottles; a bean burrito; soy jerkeys; 2 Hammer Perpetuem flasks; chocolate peanut butter balls to share, which I had made special for the trip; toe warmers; a space blanket; a small first aid kit; a ziplock with tums, ibuprofen and ginger chews; and a down puffy jacket. We would pass by our cars in the afternoon and at that time I would pick up my headlamp and sternum light, change into dry socks, have a sip of hot coffee from my thermos, pick up some new trail food, and refill my water bottles. I had a dry merino wool sweater and a thermal running jacket to change into if I needed. I could also grab a heavier pair of gloves for later in the day skiing. I knew Lisa had made similar preparations, which made me feel comfortable.

     As it turned out, it was very icy and stayed that way for the time it took us to ski the area of the park I call the Antoine side. This section sits at the base of Bonaparte Mountain and is in sight as you climb up to 4,600 feet, the highest point in the park. The Antoine Loop itself is 8.6k and then all kinds of trails meander and connect the outer loop. This made for some repeats of certain sections of trail. Overall, we felt very organized in our route compared to completely winging it our first time we took on this challenge.

     Skiing in icy conditions is sketchy. We had both chosen to use our lighter weight nordic skis rather than our shaped, Fischer back-country skis. The ones we left behind would have given us more control on the downhill and more surface for climbing. As it was, our narrow skis were skittery and loud as we wedged until our quads burned on the downhill and used every technique we knew for the climbing-herringbone, scooching, simply lifting our skis in a type of walking movement and sometimes even sidestepping up crazy steep hills. My ankles and arches were getting tired from all of the angles I kept having to use with my feet. It was challenging and yet still fun to be out in the snow and fresh air. The idea of waiting for a better day was not, in our minds, a possibility. We would keep on moving forward. The date being March 4^th made it perfect.

     After completing the Antoine side, we skied down a narrow, windy and steep trail with barb wire fencing on either side. This trail is called “Goshawk” and in good conditions is one of my favorites. In the ice, it was exciting! We soon passed a barrel of tar, peeled poles soaking in it that would later be used as fence posts. This was an interesting trail side scene. You never know what you might see in this remote, yet mostly well-groomed, nordic park. We later skied by an old piece of logging equipment with a wooden cab.

     We bottomed-out in a meadow, the sun now shining. The tracks the groomer had set made for fast skiing on this softening trail. We were headed for “Ranger's Run”, a steep Black trail (Most Difficult) in the park's rating system. At the top of the short climb, was a sweet little meadow with distant views of the North Cascades. It was time to stop for a break and I knew just the tree. We stopped at the base of a huge pine. I had stopped here once before on a solo ski, noticing that I could sit on the lowest branch and lean back against the tree while I ate lunch.

Lisa studying the map for the Whitetail side.

     This time of winter, the snow begins to melt out from underneath trees and large rocks. These are nice places to rest for a minute, or make any adjustments. I love these spots. After months of being surrounded by a deep blanket of snow, it evokes all the feelings that come with early spring to see the earth, dried grasses and bare rock now showing.

     After leaving the tree, we had only the drop from the meadow on icy trail under trees (which usually means lots of debris & small ice chunks) and a short hill to climb to reach our cars. Careful skiing got us down just fine.

     We'd been on the trail 6 hours and 20 minutes by the time we got to the small parking area. It was nice to put on dry socks and enjoy some hot coffee. I was glad to be off of the icy Antoine side and had noticed earlier in the morning that Jack, the groomer, had been out. I was ready to see where he had been, knowing that anything he groomed would be in better shape and make for funner, faster skiing. I grabbed a couple more chocolate peanut butter balls, a small ziplock of wasabi almonds and changed out my Perpetuem bottles. Lisa had been sharing her chewy dried bananas with me. I knew it would be important to keep nibbling on food to have the energy for skiing.

     This side of the park I call the Whitetail side. We started out again on the other side of that same lower meadow where hours earlier we had begun our day. The tracks were fast and we made good time on our approach to a trail called “Hej Bue”. Not being clear on how to pronounce it, my goofy husband Ras likes to call it “heggie booie”. This would take us to a slightly higher meadow “Sunshine Meadow” and then a technical, slow climb up “Twista Vista”, which most skiers like to come down rather than climb. On this icy day, we chose to climb it.

     Of course when we got to the start of Twista, we could clearly see where Jack had been with the groomer and coming down it would have been a blast. Oh well. We began to climb, wrenching our ankles as we herringboned and maneuvered up these banked switchbacks. At least the snow was churned up enough from the groomer for us to have good conditions for climbing. I thanked Jack many times both out loud and in my head. After many hours on the trail either running or skiing, I often just talk out loud, sometimes shout.

     At the top, we were gifted with an awesome downhill. It was well earned and greatly appreciated. It felt good to fly freely and smell the damp trees in the creek bottom as the descent ended. Now one short, fun and well-groomed out n'back and then the 3.6k climb to the turn around point. At the turn around, it would be all downhill to our cars.

Kathy on the final climb.

     The climb was long and tedious, but towards the top we could glide along with less effort as the intensity of the slope lessened. Before we knew it we had reached the top of our final climb in our 30 mile day. I was happy and let out one of those carefree shouts of joy, ski poles thrust into the air. No one else had climbed up to here today and it was a blast to take off down the hill on the fresh corduroy. I was filled with glee as I skied, my mind relaxed, feeling at one with my surroundings. It was just turning to dusk and a few stars were starting to show. The wind had died down and all was quiet. Lisa and I skied down the road to our cars from the upper lot after completing the Whitetail side and our 2^nd Highlands Challenge of the season. Slowly and carefully we made our way along the shoulder of the plowed forest service road and lost the last of the light as we finished. We had skied for 10 hours and 10 minutes.

     I always have some comforts ready to grab easily when I finish a day on the trail. This time I had a blanket to sit on & one to wrap around me, the rest of my thermos of coffee, cozy wool- lined boots to slide my worn feet into and new memories dancing through my head. 

      Last week I had been on a ski trip in the Rendezvous Mountain area near Mazama, in the foothills of the North Cascades. Lisa had been along and another gal Rise', who wrote a cool little bluesy tune on her guitar called “Diamonds in the Snow” for all of us. She sang it throughout our stay in the cabin. Lisa and I had remembered it earlier in the day as we skied. The snow sparkles likes diamonds in the sunlight of day, but now, sitting in the dark, all that sparkled were the stars outside and a sense of peace inside.