Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Baker Lake: Take Two

graphic by Ras


photo by Ras
By Kathy Vaughan

     Seeing the Facebook post Race Director Terry Sentinella put up about the Baker Lake 100k Fat Ass Run, I almost immediately got excited. Baker Lake 50k 2011 had been my first ultra trail race and I have a definite fondness for the course. I had run it for the 3rd time in October, initially signing up for the 100k distance. After a couple late-summer bouts of pancreatitis, I had not been able to train to run that distance and instead stuck with the 50k. Now, feeling strong and ready to try the longer distance, I was pleased that I would have the opportunity for a second chance. Terry would give finishers another official Baker Lake Finish (I'm going for my 5 year Hall of Fame status), a buckle, and an official finishing time on Ultrasignup. I mentioned it to Ras and he was on board.

     Runners could run the course on their own any time before Christmas or join him December 7th when he would be running it with a group. Ras and I live about 5 1/2 hours away from Baker Lake Trailhead. I had an appointment scheduled for an endoscopic ultrasound at the University of Washington Medical Center,on November 20th, to continue the follow-up testing I'd been having from the pancreatitis. We knew we would be driving over the Cascade Mountain Range for that appointment. It was easy enough to arrange to do the run on our way over to Seattle, allowing a day of recovery time before the fairly invasive test I would endure under general anesthesia. I couldn't think of a better time to do the run.


photo by Kathy Vaughan

     The day before we left I spent cooking and baking some of our favorite post-race food and preparing burritos to take along in our packs which we would eat on the run. I baked vegan banana chocolate chip muffins and a huge tofu scramble dish with onions, green and red bell peppers, sun-dried tomatoes, black olives, fresh garlic, nutritional yeast and lots of yummy seasonings. I also packed an East Indian style curry bean package to have along with the scramble and roasted garlic and herb fingerling potatoes to eat on the trail. These left-over potatoes are good reheated with whatever meal we have post-run also.

     This run took lots of planning because of the self-supported nature of it as well as the forecast of cold temperatures with an 80 % chance of rain, heavy at times. We knew it would get as low as 28 or 29 degrees in the night and being wet in these cold temperatures would take some attention to proper layering and dry clothing being available.  

     We decided to set up our camp at the Kulshan Campground near Baker Dam. This campground has running water and a really nice heated bathroom with hot water, that seems to stay open year round. We knew this bathroom would feel like a luxury. We also decided because of the rain to first set up our Easy-Up shelter, which is completely enclosed. We would set up our camping tent inside of the shelter, put tarps over the top of the shelter and underneath us, and have a large folding table and chairs to complete our little home-away-from-home scene. We also had a nice Coleman camp stove with us and 2 Thermoses to fill with tea and hot water for Starbucks Via instant coffee pouches, for the next day on our run.

     We arrived at the campground just as it got dark. We used our headlamps and the headlights of our car to create the scene we had planned out ahead of time. We were a little surprised to pull up to the camp and see so much snow around, as well as huge puddles of standing water. We set up our shelter under a tree because it seemed to be a way to stay protected from snow if it should hit while we were here. There was no snow under the tree we chose and it was close to the heated bathroom sanctuary. It looked level and it turned out to be a good spot.  We had 2 huge double sleeping bags with us as well as 3 cozy wool blankets and a fuzzy purple blanket. We had everything we needed to stay warm in the cold and damp conditions.

     We had dinner in our shelter.  The tree was dripping although no rain was currently falling at the time. We decided to get some sleep and wake ourselves up at 1:30 so we could get ready, drive to the Baker River end of the trail and get started by about 3 a.m. 

photo by Ras

     It was hard to get out of our warm sleeping bags and walk out into the cold. I got our stove out of the car and made coffee for us. Ras heated the water for our Thermoses. We stocked the shelter with our dry clothes and drop bags we would use when we got back to this spot 15 1/2 miles into our run. We figured we would get  here just as it got light out. We knew we would be wet and the tea and Vias would taste good. We each had a little pastry to enjoy with the hot drink when we got there too. Knowing these treats and dry clothes would be waiting for us, helped us to get into our car and drive on the dark, snowy road towards Baker River Trailhead. There were large branches on the road that had blown down in the autumn storms, and wet, slushy snow was present. It was mystical and exciting driving towards the trailhead, not yet knowing what our day would offer.

     Pulling into the large lot, we could barely see the trail head because of the thick mist. It looked completely different than it had just a month ago. This is where the turn-around aid station had been. The drop bags were on a tarp and friendly volunteers were saying "Hi" and offering to fill my water bottles. I snacked at the table while my bottles were filled and visited with the chatty older couple writing down times and checking off bib numbers. Tim Stroh was making hot grilled cheese sandwiches.


photo by Kathy Vaughan
                                The Baker River Trailhead at the end of our run

     Now, I looked down the dismal trail, covered in about 4 inches of wet snow. The maples looked like giants in the dark, bare of leaves, but thick with moss. The large sign at the trail head said nothing that forced us to turn around and abandon this idea. This is how we had decided to celebrate our 17th wedding anniversary.

     We locked up our warm, dry car, turned on our headlamps and sternum lights and we were off. This moment of setting out on the trail  was about as exhilarating as it gets. I was filled with so many differing emotions and sensations. I couldn't see the trail off in the distance, only what I needed to see at my feet. I couldn't hear anything, only my own loud breathing as I got adjusted to the cold air and what it felt like to breath through a merino wool neck warmer. I could hear Ras' breathing and crunchy footsteps behind me in the snow. I remained calm and hopeful about what lie ahead down the trail, both within me and upon the surface on which I was running. 

photo by Ras

     About a 1/2 mile in, the trail crosses the Baker River. We had been following some footsteps up to this point, but here, the couple and their dog had turned around. We continued over the bridge, much easier to run on covered in snow than wet and slick from rain.  There was some excitement in knowing we were now running where no one else had set foot since the snow had fallen here at Baker Lake.

     The forest remained very dark, although the moon had given a lightness to the sky. It was full, but because of the clouds it couldn't be seen. I liked knowing it was full and guiding us south, back to the dam and the campground; back to our Thermoses of hot beverages and our cheap pastries we would enjoy when it got light out. 

     Large trees had fallen over the trail in a number of places. Sometimes it was difficult to work through these sections. My gloves got soaked as I used my hands to climb through these rich, earthy, damp smelling sections, the ground disturbed where the tree uprooted and the huge branches blanketed in moss, sopping wet. Ras pushed a lot of these branches off of the trail when he could. Our plan was to run 2 out n' backs on this trail over the next 18 or so hours, and it would be helpful to get the trail as clear as possible. We also knew Terry and others would be out on the trail within a few weeks and they would appreciate anything we could do to help with the clearing. I kicked off rocks and branches when I could.  One time, I kicked at a big ball of moss thinking it was a piece of a branch and it only fluffed up into the air. Living on the eastern side of the Cascades, I rarely come across the thick moss that exists in this old growth forest along Baker Lake.  I love the dense, underbrush, ferns and the massive old trees full of character that make up these west-side forests.


photo by Ras

     Finally, light returned to the forest and the daylight hours were beginning. We continued along the inviting single track, running faster now that our visibility had improved. The many creek drainages along the trail were swollen with meltwater from early snow and the heavy rains that had been pounding the area for the days leading up to this run. It was now raining persistently. However, as long as we kept moving, we were staying warm. There was no longer snow on the trail. It was mainly covering the trail nearer the Baker River Trailhead. The further we got from that northern end, the less snow we were seeing. The mist still hung heavy in the trees. The lake looked serene in these early morning hours and the distant peaks of Mt. Shuksan and Mt. Baker were hidden behind heavy clouds.

     It felt good to be warmed up, moving comfortably along the trail and fully awake to our day. We got to the forest service road that leads 1 3/4 miles gently downhill to the Baker Dam crossing. A Puget Sound Energy employee had just arrived to work and was unloading stuff from his van. He had a large white hard hat on with a face mask. This made it hard to see his facial expression as we ran past him on the dam, but I can only imagine he was surprised to see runners out in these conditions, so early in the morning.

     After crossing the dam, we were now on the final paved stretch to the campground. Ahead we could see our tan Easy-Up shelter. I knew in my head everything I would need to do when we got there and I also knew it was important to make this a fast turn-around. The garbage man was there, to pick up garbage. He was now having breakfast in the parking lot by the heated bath room. Other than that, no one was around. 

     The coffee tasted better than I could have imagined it would. I quickly changed into a dry Smartwool sweater, dry gloves, dry knee high Smartwool socks and a dry fleece jacket. I put my wet rainshell back on over the top of these dry layers and stayed mentally focused on getting back out on the trail. I had to fill up my Hammer Perpetuem flasks and drop off my empties. I had a few snacks to restock in my pack and some garbage to drop off. I used the heated haven, as did Ras, and then we were back out on the trail. As quick and efficient as I thought we had been, I looked down at my watch and could see that we had still taken 39 minutes to do everything we had needed to do. A self-supported run in these conditions was just a whole different ball-game to what I had run here in October, surrounded by my ultrarunning buddies and my daughter Angela, there running her first 50k.

photo by Kathy Vaughan

     I did not want to overwhelm myself by thinking about how this was only the first time I would be hitting this aid station we had set up for ourselves in our shelter here at Kulshan Campground. We still had the 15 1/2 mile return trip along the lake to our car. When we got there, we would start our second out n'back. We knew we would have light for that full stretch and hopefully most of the next stretch back towards Kulshan for our second time. Breaking the run up into chunks would be how I could handle this distance though, and right now the chunk I would be working on would be running back towards our car at Baker River. More dry clothes and snacks would be waiting there. A cold, energizing Red Bull would be there too. Meanwhile, I had some forest to enjoy running through!

     As we climbed up the forest service road towards the single track, we snacked on bean and rice burritos.  We heard a truck coming up the road, and as we turned and looked, we could see the driver had his window down and was slowing to say something to us.  He was in camo, head to toe, and had his bright orange vest on also. I thought if we saw anyone out here in these conditions, it would be a hunter. He was surprised to see us and said he was pretty impressed we'd be out here in the rain, now mixed with snow. He mentioned to us that there was another trail head at the other end of the lake, Baker River, that we might want to check out. He was again surprised when we told him we had already run from there this morning and were now on our way back to our car at that end.  Silently, Ras and I both knew not to try to explain to him that we were actually attempting to get back to that trail head and then run it one more time.

     It felt good to get off the road and back onto the single track again. I was surprised at how my feet were already feeling sore from Plantar Fasciatis and I wondered if the cold, damp temperatures were making this condition come on quicker. Sometimes I do feel sore feet, but its usually deeper into the mileage. This was worrisome, with so many miles to cover still ahead.

     When we got to Maple Grove Camp, we both thought of Kevin Douglas who had run an aid station at this spot during the official race. He was not here now, but we still called it "Kevin's Spot". We passed through here, the familiarity of the spot having evoked memories for both of us of our runs here the month prior. I had set my own PR on the course and Ras had enjoyed a nice solid 100k finish. He had to pick up some fresh batteries from Kevin at this aid station during the race, having run for about an hour with dead batteries for his headlamp. His duct taped bundle of batteries he had with him that night had actually been dead, rather than fresh. His system of taping only fresh batteries together, had failed him.


photo by Kathy Vaughan

     I turned on my Mp3 player as we ran along, needing the distraction of good music playing. The persistent rain, wet, cold feet from the swollen creeks, and the PF were taking its toll. I didn't want to get too pulled down from these factors, so I chose to listen to music to get me pumped up again. It worked its magic and soon I felt like dancing rather than running. I did feel bad though, because Ras had left his Mp3 player in the car to pick up for the second 50k. He assured me to just do what I needed and he wasn't bothered by it.

     The creeks were starting to slow us down a little bit. Each time we got to one now, we had to really look for a good crossing. Rock-hopping was becoming increasingly difficult. I  started looking for the best place to just plow right through. I didn't want to stop and figure it out each time, only to get wet anyway. It just didn't matter anymore; I was soaked all the way through from the rain and perspiration anyway.

     Before we knew it, we were back at the north end of the trail, nearing Baker River again. The rain was heavy and the wind was picking up. We started running through some standing water on the trail and realized all of the snow from the morning had now melted. It had not drained from the trail though, and was just sitting in puddles. It was half water, half slush and it was cold!!  At times, we would come to places where water was running down the trail like a creek. These conditions became more and more intense, the water now covering the entire trail. There was no way to run around it. We just ran right through it, the slushy water splashing up our legs as we lifted our feet as high as we could in these standing puddles of frigid melt.

     Then Ras said it. "I think we are only doing one out n'back." I burst into tears; tears I'd been holding back as the cold from these slush puddles chilled me to the bone. It was what I needed to hear and what was becoming the reality in my head too. It seemed silly to push on in these conditions and the fun was over. In about 2 hours, it would be dark again. The wind was really strong now and the heavy rain had snow mixed in with it. We'd both been wet for 11 hours now and we had at least that much longer to go. I had slowed down and the second out n' back would take even longer in the dark with worsening weather falling on us. Its just what it was.


photo by Kathy Vaughan

     When we got to the car, I pulled out the camera for only the third time on the run. It had been too wet to take pictures.  I shot a couple of pictures and climbed in to the car, out of the wind, the rain and the November weather that inhabits Western Washington. Ras turned the key, the car started for us with no problems, and the heat began pouring out of the vents. We put on dry clothes, snacked and reflected on another challenging, yet, fun adventure; shared together, bringing us even closer in our partnership and bonding, celebrating our relationship of so many years in the way we like to celebrate most special days. And as it turns out, Terry will still give us a cool medal for a 50k finish and our time on Ultrasignup. 


photo by Ras



photo by Ras


photo by Kathy Vaughan


photo by Ras

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Blood On The Snow: Fall-Winter Running

Blood On The Snow: Fall/Winter Running


photo by Ras
by Ras

     You don't need a GoPro to get slo-mo, or even hi-def for that matter. My memory has all that and more, including both instant reply and continuous looping. So even now I am internally reviewing footage of a dear friend crashing to the ground, initially a victim of my ineptitude, secondarily a victim of gravity.

     If you've watched enough fail videos, you recognize the shot: a sideways view of the world from a helmet cam that has just swung suddenly downward to the right, then abruptly shuddered to a halt as it came into contact with the planet. That's when I heard and recognized the horrible interrupted cadence of a runner being tripped. Like a deep breath drawn in and held, when a runner's stride is stifled, there is a sudden and unexpected silence that portends impending impact. Foot foot foot foot foot - and then the eerie absence of the rhythm one expected. In a microsecond my mind warned me that a scheduled footfall had been missed, that someone was tumbling to Earth. 


     Tight zoom, focus, and there's my right leg perfectly, as if intentionally, wedged between Shona's planted foot, on which her weight is resting and her body slowly pivoting forward, and the foot she had been swinging forward to take her weight in the next stride. Thanks to me and my goofy right leg, her swing foot will never make it in to place to take her weight, and her body will continue to rotate forward on her planted foot until she suffers consequences only Sir Isaac Newton would delight in describing, and then only if she were a planet or an apple or a marble on a ramp.

     Shona fell well, not splaying flat onto her stomach, but turning onto her hip. She didn't try to arrest her falling body with the sort of rigid, locked arms that send bone-snapping force up the chain to the weakest link: the clavicle. She cushioned her fall and protected her head and face by allowing her arms to curl into place between her skull and the frozen roadbed. But her hand bottle wedged against the ground as her head was still being whipped forward by inertia and her nose and mouth bore the brunt of the impact. As if in a clear viscous fluid, this played out interminably slowly, her collapsed form at my level now as I saw her head snapped back up by the collision, pain contorting her features, her hand flyings to her face defensively, and a crimson droplet mimicking her fall to splash just as pitifully on the snow.


photo by Ras
Shona Hilton, in better times

     Seasonally, we are deep into the darker realms of fall in the Okanogan Highlands. Days are barely nine hours long. Nights stretch on into Seasonal Affective Disorder. Old snow on Forest Service roads without southern exposure has been compacted by vehicle traffic into two-tracks of twin luge runs. Sighting along them into the distance, these parallel perils seem to eventually meet. It is so dry during the day and cold during the night that puddles freeze and evaporate from the inside out, leaving an empty depression covered by a rotting skin of ice. Bare spots are so desiccated that footsteps send up puffs of moon dust, and foot prints of it are left on the next patch of snow reached.

     It's not accurate to say that Shona 'took a fall.' That implies volition or responsibility on her part, but she was blameless in this bloody affair. Shona was innocently, and wisely, running up the untracked snow between the icy wheel ruts. She had intentionally chosen to run where there was a crunchy layer of undisturbed snow, which provided both a small amount of cushion and a great amount of traction. Where she was placing her feet, it was excellent snow running conditions. So it would be no more accurate to say that Shona 'fell.' Even though that implies a passive role in her, forgive me, downfall, she had proactively chosen a good route on excellent footing, investing energy and attention into minimizing her chances of being dashed to the ground. Shona deserved to remain upright.

     It would be most accurate to say that I felled her. As though I were in sawyer mode with my trusty Stihl, I brutally cut her free of her connection to the earth's crust. I hadn't been paying attention. I hadn't been looking ahead for a safe route. I hadn't been noticing the changing conditions as three Forest Service roads converged and funneled us onto a narrow, rutted, and ice encrusted earthen bridge. I was zoned out and zenned out and blithely blithering on about what great training it is running in snow and ice, and how those wonderful challenges help hone one's form and technique.

     Suddenly I found myself dancing in mincing strides across a thin, crusty snow ridge between the cupped, icy tire rut and the drop into the creek. My next left foot placement just missed the snow and came down on the sloped ice, instantly washing out from beneath me. As I crumpled to the frozen path on my left side, my right leg was flung straight out athwart the trail, threading itself perfectly between Shona's shins in the middle of her stride. Cue haunting memory recorder; and we're rolling ... and ... ACTION!

     I may have a reputation for being a little bit intense, or occasionally confrontational, but I did not leave the house this morning with the goal of taking one of my wife's closest friends and slamming her to the frozen earth. If you saw Shona's fat lip, bloodied nose, and tear stained face, you might not believe that. I would not be surprised to find a large social worker pounding on my door tomorrow. "Mr. Vaughan, Mrs. Hilton refused to file a complaint, and she maintains that the entire thing was an accident, but we know what really happened. And we'll be keeping an eye on you. Watch yourself." 


copyright Altra Zero Drop Footwear

     Part of what I love about winter running is the possibility of breaking traction. I use a technique which is variously described as 'natural running,' a 'midfoot strike,' or a few other trademarked names that I am unsure of the potential legal liabilities of mentioning. What it comes down to is focusing on form and technique with the goal of eliminating all braking from your stride. By increasing foot turnover (the tempo, or rapidity of one's strides), leaning forward at the ankles instead of the waist, and landing with the foot below one's center pushing behind instead of reaching forward with the heel, both impact and effort required are greatly reduced. It can be visualized as your torso floating along above the ground while your feet rapidly make just enough contact to keep up.

     In snow and ice this becomes easily apparent. Braking is a big no no. It results in your feet sliding out in front of you and dumping you unceremoniously on your derriere. Skaters can think of it as a wilson. But with natural running technique, when you break traction your foot doesn't slide out in front. Instead, it suddenly kicks up behind you. Walking and running on snow and ice is similar to skiing. If you lean forward slightly at the ankles you have improved control and a better connection to the snow. If you weight your heels, you end up on your butt.
 And no matter how many times you lose focus or forget to go over your mental from checklist, snow and ice are ever vigilant, and will remind you as many times as you need.

     I am not on a quest for the fastest pace possible. My goal is the perfect foot placement, repeated to infinity. If I were to blend Navaho spirituality with bio-mechanics, I could say my goal is to "walk in perfection." And I'm blessed to find health and peace in the practice and the striving, even if I never achieve my goal for more than a fleeting moment. Will I ever take an infinite series of perfect steps? Most likely not while in this gangly earthly vessel. And if I do, I'll be too busy from that point on to write about it, should I ascend to that endurance nirvana.

     Until then, let this stand as a warning if you are directly behind or in front of me in a lemming line during a race, or if you are pacing me through the night, or if you are considering inviting me on a run. I suffer from Baby Huey Syndrome, blithely going about my business not intending anyone any harm, while inadvertently and unwittingly raining hurt and wrecking havoc on any and all unfortunate enough to wander into my event horizon. If you are within the reach of my potentially flailing limbs, you are in the danger zone. And if you're close enough to high five, you may not make it out alive.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

H3 2013

H3 2013: The Second Annual Highland Halloween Hundred Trail UnRun

photo by Kathy VaughanBy Kathy Vaughan

     The home of Ras and I was filled with athletes on the early morning of Saturday, October 26th. Ras and I had spent the days leading up to this cold morning, preparing for their arrival. He had ridden his mountain bike about 16 miles along the 100 trail to mark it on Thursday night. Friday, he marked the single track on our property and drove his truck up the Forest Service road to place markers. The course was more thoroughly marked than last year. Next year, we hope to do even better with course marking. 

photo by Ras

     I had spent Thursday and Friday preparing food for the aid stations and our home. I knew after driving all day Friday to get to our house, everyone would be hungry. I had a pot of garbanzo bean and coconut milk soup ready for their arrival. I also baked a batch of vegan banana muffins. The runners appreciated this sustenance when they arrived and the leftovers were added to race day fare.   

     I made a pot of African Peanut Soup and a pot of Harvest Pumpkin for the aid stations. The Harvest Pumpkin was popular and this made me happy as I had just made up the recipe on the fly. I like making soups, sometimes following recipes, sometimes just creating something with ingredients I have on hand. The peanut soup had been popular last year and I decided to make it again because of this. It is from “The Colophon Cafe Soup Cookbook”. This cafe is located in Fairhaven, Washington. The pumpkin soup was made with canned pumpkin, coconut milk, green chilis, green pepper, red pepper, corn, onion, garlic, cumin, black pepper, Bragg Liquid Amino Acids as a soup base, smoked paprika, onion powder and chili powder.  I think it fit the mood of a crisp autumn day.

photo by Ras
L-R: Takao Suzuki, Kathleen Leonard, Andrew Dingwall, Anthony Skierkiewicz, Van Phan, Ben Brown, Lisa Eversgerd

     I also baked vegan chocolate chip cookies and made pinto beans for burritos Ras would be serving at the Whistler Canyon trailhead aide station at Highway 97. I made a pot of rice and put together supplies for him to make the burritos there. I included whole wheat tortillas and green taco sauce. Leaving the aide station, the runners would start a climb and it would be a good time for them to have something solid to eat. We also supplied Ziplock bags so they could take another burrito with them for later along the trail. These were well liked. The aide stations also had chips, soda, snacks they could take with them like raisins and packages of crackers, hard candy for quick energy, coffee, water and tea. Drop bags were allowed at both of the aide stations.   

photo by Ras

     At 7 am, the runners lined up on a flour line Ras had made in our driveway. From there, the race would start on single track trail through our property until reaching the Forest Service Road which doubles as the Pacific Northwest Trail. This road takes them up a 900 foot climb to Haley Divide. From there, they will drop down to a large trailhead 1.5 miles away, with an outhouse. From this trailhead, the 100 Trail begins. It starts with a 3 mile climb to the first aide station at race mile 8.  After the aid station, the trail begins a 13 mile stretch to the aid station at Highway 97 where Ras awaits with the hot soup and bean and rice burritos. This is also the turn around. Runners reverse direction. After a 13 mile climb, with some mixed rolling trail, they hit the 3525 aid station, being run by the Hilton family, a second time. They next have the final 8 mile stretch back to our house. This stretch begins with downhill on mainly double track for about 3 miles, a short climb to Haley Divide and then the final gradual descent on Forest Service road for about 4 miles. At the bottom of the Forest Service road, course markers lead everyone back onto our property, where they meander along single track for about ¼ mile to our house and the finish.

photo by Ras

     The route beings at an elevation of 3,500 feet. The 21 mile turn around point in the Okanogan River valley, just south of the small town of Oroville, is at an elevation of about 938 feet.  Along the course, the trail passes through forest mixed with tamarack, fir and pine. Black Bear roam these forests and I have seen a mother and her 2 cubs, that scrambled high into trees. I have also seen a yearling, running off in fright when he heard Ras and I coming.  The tamarack needles have all turned yellow and have not yet been blown to the ground. They look spectacular mixed in the forest. The trail also passes through areas with ponds and deciduous trees like aspen and alder. Moose like it in these areas. I once saw a mother moose and her two young ones. Another time, Ras and I startled a moose that ran off into the thick brush.  Other areas are rocky and open, with just a few pine trees and views of the river and orchards far below.  Before reaching the turn around point, the trail passes through a rocky canyon with steep walls marked in petroglyphs.  In the summer, rattlesnakes can be seen here. Big Horn Mountain Sheep roam the cliffs.

photo by Takao Suzuki

     As soon as the sun came up, the day became much warmer. The temperature was great for a fall run. The sun shone all day. The sky was clear, although the wind blew down in the valley.  Last year, Van Phan and Deby Kumasaka had run the course in snow. They had opted for a 100 mile finish because of the rough conditions, but that was impressive enough. They had both wanted to finish 126 miles this year, but Deby was still having lingering hip issues from a fall she had taken during Cascade Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run in August. With her expertise in running, pacing and crewing for 100 milers, she was a huge help to me and all of the participants.  

photo by Ras
L-R: Lisa Eversgerd, Takao Suzuki, Kathy Vaughan, Deby Kumasaka

     The 42 milers that did the single out n' back were Lisa Eversgerd, Takao Suzuki, Anthony Skierkieweiz, Kathleen Leanord, and Ben Brown. Each had their own unique experience. Each of them had gone into the race with a different goal and a different skill set. It was fun to see the miles unfold for this group.

photo by Ras

     Kathleen and Van ran together, for Van's first out n' back. Kathleen is an experienced ultra runner and did well, finishing with a time of 9:22. She rolled an ankle and experienced some back pain during her run, but despite these set-backs, ran an excellent race and finished 1st woman in the 42 mile distance. She enjoyed resting by the woodstove after a hot shower. Biofreeze helped her ankle and hot split pea soup warmed her up after a long, cold day on the trail. The autumn colors were amazing on the course and Kathleen wants to come back next year to have another great time at H3. 

photo by Ras

     Anthony is also an experienced ultra runner and finished the race as the 1st male with a time of 7:47. His Garmin read 6,050 feet of elevation gain in the 42 miles. Anthony had a speedy run, feeling strong the whole time. He was super happy with how his day had gone. He also wants to return to H3 next year. He loved his schwaag and posed by our dried up flower bed after wards to show his elation at an ultra well run. After coming inside by the woodstove for some hot soup and cold Nuun, Anthony left to drive back home to his daughter and wife, who is 7 ½ months pregnant with their second child. This was his last running getaway for awhile, and he was filled with good energy as he left our home.

photo by Kathy Vaughan

     Lisa took on her first ultra distance race. She is an “ultrapedestrian” in the true sense of the word. She is my cross-country ski partner in the winter. She and I did the Ultrapedestrian Wilderness Challenge in August, hiking the 45 mile Devil's Dome Loop in the Pasayten Wilderness in one go. This would be Lisa's first ultra distance solo hike. 

photo by Ras


With no cut-off preventing her from finishing, Lisa's strength and endurance from working hard all summer as a trail crew supervisor for the Forest Service,  had her prepared to trek the distance out in an astonishing 13 hours and 2 minutes. She smiled the entire time, encouraging others and sending positive vibes along the course. She arrived in the morning with a basket full of homemade garlic bread, topped with her own homegrown garlic; and vegan oatmeal raisin cookies, that fueled Van in her final miles when nothing else was palatable.  The bread was delicious with the hot soup, and the combination offered comfort to the runners whether it was taken in at their finish or their turnaround.

photo by Ras

     Takao is one of our great running photographers we are blessed to have in Washington. He had not completed an ultra for 7 months, but liked the idea of no cut-off. Ras and I were happy to have him come enjoy the landscape that is unique to North Central Washington. He had a great day on the trail, spending some time with Lisa and other time solo. In the end, they came across the finish line together in 13:02. He was happy with that as his finishing time and enjoyed a hot cup of coffee by the woodstove before he drove home to his family. He captured the true essence of the 100 Trail with some artistic and lovely photos. It was awesome having Takao participate in H3. He did not know what to expect, but he was pleasantly surprised. He pulled up on Friday night and got out of his car into the darkness of the Okanogan Highlands, the big night sky filled with stars, the Milky Way visible and mystical. He was impressed with this image and slept in his car, while frost built up on top of it. Anthony camped next to him in his car as well and in the morning, they came in for coffee and the pre-race briefing given by Ras.

photo by Ras


     In the dark of the morning, my dogs barked to let me know another runner had arrived. As I went outside, I could see a headlamp high atop a head. I called out “Good morning” and the answer was a new voice to me. Andrew Dingwall had come from Penticton, British Colombia to run H3. We hadn't met him yet, but I was really happy that he had found our place and would be joining in the event. He was the only 84 mile runner so he would be running two of the 42 mile out n' backs. 

photo by Ras

     Andrew had never run more than a 50k previously, and he had never done any night running during an ultra. He was great to have on the course. He had a very mellow way about him. Happy with everything being offered, he had arrived expecting little to no aid. The hot soups and aid stations were a big surprise. He was eating pizza he had brought with him and even had brought his own Coke. It was fun to be able to provide more for him than he could have imagined, helping him to achieve his goal in a supported way. 

photo by Kathy Vaughan

     He finished with a fast time of 17:37 minutes. His girlfriend Magda arrived at the aid station that Ras captained, the Whistler Canyon Trailhead at Highway 97, to crew Andrew at his 63 mile mark. After he passed through there, she drove up to our home 14 miles away. I took her with me to see him in the middle of the night at the aid station the Hilton Family had been running during the day. He was surprised to see us there, but was happy to have a little bit of a hot potato and some cheering before his final 8 mile stretch. We drove back to our house and were there to see him finish. They both slept until the next morning, before driving back to Canada.

photo by Ras

     Ben was the youngest runner in the event, at 21.  He had only run 18 miles in one shot in the past, so he was also tackling more mileage than he had ever done. He had worked all summer for the Forest Service on their Fire Crew with Lisa's husband Jason. Lisa told Ben about the race only the weekend before, and he decided to sign up. Ben stayed with  Anthony and Andrew up to the 21 mile point. He ran strong and did a great job of staying hydrated. He had eaten a bean and rice burrito at the 21 mile aid station and taken one with him to eat on the climb back up to the Highlands. He was very open to listening to the advice and wisdom of the experienced ultra runners in the group and this helped him finish with a time of 12:22. Unfortunately, he went off course at one point for about 6 miles. He kept a good attitude though, and finished anyway. He ran into Deby and Van in his final few miles, and Deby offered him some food and encouraged him to snack all the way to the finish. He needed this energy to keep moving and to stay warm, now that darkness had fallen. I had driven up the Forest Service road looking for Ben when he had not finished around the same time as Kathleen. Kathleen knew he had passed through the final aid station already, but after an hour went by, I figured he had gotten lost. After talking to Jason on the phone about a plan for finding him, I decided to drive up the road . I was really happy to see his headlamp and even happier to hear him say he was just going to keep moving. He has the true spirit of an ultra runner and I can't wait to see what he tries next.

photo by Ras

     In order for Van to run the 126 mile distance, we needed to help arrange some pacers for her.  Deby was key in these arrangements. She put together a plan that would work, if the runners she came up with would agree to the pacing gig. First, Deby herself would run with Van 8 miles to the 3525 aid station. She would join Van after she reached our house, completing her first 42 mile out n' back with Kathleen. 

photo by Takao Suzuki
L-R: Kathy Vaughan, Jake Hilton, Shona Hilton, Deby Kumasaka, Steve Hilton, Lex Hilton

     When she reached the aid station, Steve Hilton would join her. He had been running the aid station, but she would accept less aid at this spot to have a pacer. I would still accommodate her and Andrew at this spot as much as I could.  Shona would need to go home and sleep so that she could be Van's pacer the next day. It was also time to put her sons to bed, who had been at the aid station all day, helping runners and playing around the campfire. Shona and Steve are neighbors of Ras and I, and also our running partners. Steve would run with Van down to the turnaround for her 2nd time reaching that point. Ras would still be there to offer her aid. Then he would close down that aid station and drive back home, take a nap and run with Van after they got back to our house. 

photo by Ras

     It was impressive to see Van's reserve as she focused on what she needed to do to head out for her 3rd out n' back, having already run 84 miles. The house was warm and cozy and smelled of home cooked food. She was the only runner heading out on the course.  Steve had stuck by her side all night and done a great job of keeping her running just a wee bit faster than she might have chosen. This was his first pacing gig and he did really well. At 3:47 in the morning, after 33 miles of running all night for the first time, he was ready to be back at our house to warm up and enjoy the good feelings of his accomplishment and the support he had offered another runner he had not previously known.

photo by Takao Suzuki

     Ras quietly and competently prepared to head out with Van. They left sometime before 4:30 in the morning after a brief discussion about how they would travel on the trail. Van requested that he run in front of her so that she could just settle into her own pace behind him. She wanted him nearby for a feeling of comfort and safety on the trail in the still dark hours of the morning. She had made it through many dark hours of running already, and now had only about 3 to go. Van has run hundreds of ultras in her running career, and it showed as she arranged her pack, changed into appropriate layers and not once waivered in her plan of running 126 miles on the H3 course, being the first person to ever do so; an Only Van Time. 

photo by Takao Suzuki

     I laid down to rest for a couple of hours. I took a refreshing shower, trying to wake myself back up. I said goodbye to Deby, Kathleen, Magda and Andrew and then went down to meet Van and Ras at about 9:00 am the next morning. I thought of them many times throughout the rest of the dark morning, but I felt such confidence in the two of them on the course together. What a team they made, Van so small, yet with a strength powerful beyond words. Ras so tall and competent in the wilderness. He has traveled many miles alone to accomplish goals that seemed beyond achievable the past few years. They have inspired each other to reach into the unknown and formulate goals; each on their own, yet pushing the other just by coming up with new ideas of where to run and how far.  Now they were out on the trail together, Ras being there for Van while running 126 miles in the remote Okanogan wilderness, literally right out his back door.

     They appeared on the final switchbacks that dumped them into the river valley. They made their way down to my Subaru where I had Van's drop bag, warm robe and a chair for her to sit in out of the wind. I had brought some hot burritos and soup. It was very windy and the clouds obscured any sun that might be shining higher up as it was the day before when other runners were still on the course with Van. It seemed lonely and dreary, but she remained focused. Her hands shaking from the cold, she got her pack ready for her final 21 miles. Shona was ready to join her. She would be just right for Van on the trail. Shona has run this route many times. She and I have trained on this section for several races we've been in together and Shona had a solo run on this route just before Baker Lake. She is great at staying in tune with her running partner and although she had never paced before, she would be a good person to bring Van in to the finish. 

photo by Kathy Vaughan

     They set off up the hill. Van took a burrito with her and had lots of snacks to keep giving her the energy she needed to finish the final 21 miles. With 105 miles completed, she was tired, but still moving well. I went home and rested some. I thought about what food I could take up to the final aid station. I decided to reheat some pasta from the night before, seasoning it lightly and making sure it was at least warm when the ladies arrived at the aid station. I put some of the African Peanut soup in a thermos, gathered some other snacks and a bottle of Coke, and hit the road for one last trip up to the 3525 aid station. 

photo by Kathy Vaughan

     When I got there, the weather was surprisingly harsh. The wind was blowing, the rain was coming down hard and there was a chill to the air that felt like early winter. I went to work right away to build a fire so Van and Shona would have a place to warm up for a few minutes. Steve and his boys had stacked a good amount of fire wood the day before while running the aid station, so it was easy to get a nice fire going quickly. I kept my car running, as its been having trouble starting recently, and kept the heat going full blast. 

photo by Takao Suzuki

   Soon, I heard voices and then Shona hooted. I could see their bright rain jackets and then they got to the aid station. Van was visibly chilly and I offered her some hot food. She asked if she could sit in my car to eat and I was glad I had kept it warm. She got inside and I served her a cup of the hot noodles. Shona had some chips & coke and made a few adjustments. The ladies were there less than 10 minutes before they headed out for the final 8 mile stretch. The weather had become so miserable that it would be important for them to just keep moving steadily. While the warm time in the car had been nice for Van, this made it harder for her to enter the cold, rainy conditions. The rain now had snow mixed in with it. Van had a rain poncho with her that she put over her other warm layers and off they went.

photo by Kathy Vaughan

     A few miles down the Forest Service road, I had a chance to see the ladies one more time. Steve and I met there and transferred aid station supplies to his truck. I had taken down the shelter and closed the aid station before I left. We waited at this intersection to cheer Van on once again. As they passed, they were focused on moving forward, one step at a time. They were cold and slowing down for any reason was not a good idea. Shona, like a mother hen, let us know they were just going to keep moving forward to stay warm. With about 5 miles to go now, the finish was near, yet still far away. They had about a mile and a half climb ahead of them. Van likes this climb and it made her feel good to top out at Haley Divide. After a gel with caffeine, the enjoyable climb behind her and the smell of the oats in the barn, Van got giddy. She chatted and with gas left in her tank, made her way down the final miles along the Forest Service road. 

photo by Ras

     After 33 hours and 16 minutes, Van appeared at our front porch with a big, tired smile on her face. She had done it! The strength it takes to keep on running, while no other runner is on the course attempting the same distance, is really awe inspiring. I am honored to have been able to provide the venue for Van to have this experience. I am happy for Shona, Steve, Ras, Deby and Kathleen to have spent time on the course running with her.  Van is a legend in the ultra running community and I got to see first hand what it takes to maintain that status. 

photo by Ras

     Congratulations to all of the awesome Highland Halloween Hundred Trail Un-Run participants of 2013.  Each person accomplished a new goal and reached beyond a point they had already reached in their endurance adventures. Hosting H3 was meant to have this as an outcome.  Ras and I couldn't be happier with how the race went this year. We are looking forward to the weekend of October 25th and 26th of next year when we will hold the 3rd Annual H3. See you there! 

photo by Ras
Van Phan: First Ever and Only Ever Finisher of the 126 mile distance