Rock Creek Ramble Race Report

Rock Creek Ramble 100k:
A Journey Through Time, Wind And Wonder

By Kathy Vaughan

     Ras and I arrived at the abandoned 20th century Escure Ranch with just enough time to set up our camp. The following morning we would each step foot on the starting line and run 63 miles through the channeled scablands, guarded by huge basaltic rock formations. This terrain would be new to me.  The landscape was open and expansive. The views were unobstructed with no trees; only sage brush, marshy areas with cattails and ponds, and Rock Creek itself meandering through the land along some areas of the course.

     I was one of only two women who had signed up for the 100k distance and there were only four men running the race. One of them was Ras. He was running on a foot with a large laceration underneath his big toe and he wasn't sure how far he would make it. Our plan was to run our own separate races, but if he was struggling, he would slow down and run with me. I didn't expect this to happen, so I was mentally prepared to be alone on the course for at least 15 hours. I had run one 100k in a self-supported Fat Ass style along Baker Lake last summer, so I really didn't have a clear expectation of how long this race would take me to finish.

     I had five goals going into the race:

1. Finish in 16 hours or less
2. Place 1st Woman in my age group with a pie-in-the-sky goal of 1st Woman overall
3. Run strong in the dark solo
4. Finish with gas left in the tank, as I am in training for Pigtails Challenge 150, to be held Memorial Day Weekend
5. Have fun

     Ras worked to set up the Easy-Up shelter in the breeze while I worked to set up the interior. We had brought our big folding table, a camp stove, our tent, warm sleeping bags and pillows, camp chairs, a cooler, bins and duffel bags of clothing and gear choices, and a Tofu ScRamble I had made ahead of time for us to reheat after our race finishes. (Recipe Here)

     With the camp set up, it was time to have something to eat before getting a good night's sleep. We heated up pouches of Tasty Bite Kung Pao Noodles and I enjoyed a hot cup of coffee. Caffeine doesn't keep me awake at night, as I have been a coffee drinker for many years. It is one of my favorite beverages to enjoy and it helps me to feel relaxed. It sets the mood and I wanted to sit and mentally prepare now for the big day ahead. Running 63 miles would be a big deal and being in the mental space to review my preparations was the best thing I could be doing at this time. 

     I made sure I had my running clothes organized. I planned on sleeping in my gear as I knew it would be cold in the morning. The race would start at 6 a.m. Taking off my warm sleeping and morning layers and having my running attire on underneath already, would help to make the morning easier. I would only have to drink some coffee, use the bathroom, set up my bin at the start/finish, pin on my number and start running when the Race Director said “Go”. 

     The weather forecast had called for high winds and blowing dust. Some of the gusts would be up to 33 mph. I could feel the cold wind now, as I gathered with the 8 or so other runners now at the start area. The 50 mile runners would start with the 100k runners. Some shorter distance races would start later in the day and the following day, a navigation race would be taking place. Arthur Martineau was going to run the 100k with his pretty dog Lola and we had a chance to visit with him a little bit the night before. I figured he would take the over-all win and finish in a ridiculously fast time. A group of ladies were there and I didn't know if one of them might be the other gal running the 100k, or if she had decided to run the 50 mile distance, or possibly had not shown up at all. Either way, it was time to focus on my race and not worry too much about what any one else was doing.

     It was a super relaxed and pleasant start. Mark Taylor, one of the Race Directors with Northwest Trail Runs, gave the pre-race briefing. He told us we had until 11:00 that night to finish (a 17 hour cut-off), but he wouldn't mind if we finished earlier than that. I thought to myself that I sure hoped he would not be waiting at the finish line just for me at 11:00 that night.

     The runners took off through the old tin sided buildings of the Escure Ranch. We took a left after passing the buildings and began winding our way up a gentle incline, into the channeled scablands and open terrain of the Rock Creek Preserve. The guys took off up the hill and I soon lost sight of them. Ras gave me a hug and kiss goodbye and followed behind the other men. I would not see him again on the course. A couple of ladies seemed to be running together and I recognized Gunhild Swansen, an older lady with tons of ultra finishes. I followed her for many miles, and we played leap frog once. Then she was gone too and I could see no runner up ahead, as far as the eye could see. I was on my own.

     I settled into the run, the unique landscape pulling me along easily. I felt awesome. I felt like I could run forever. I was in a comfortable pace that felt sustainable for the miles I would have to cover. As the course was through a currently operating ranch, Eric Bone (one of the other Race Directors), had installed wooden ladders to cross each fence line we would come across. When we got to the first ladder, I took the time to start my reggae dancehall music going on my mp3 player. I love listening to music while I run. It does not distract me, but rather keeps me focused, happy and allows me to keep a solid, consistent foot turnover going. I smiled as the music came through the one ear bud I had in, leaving one ear open to the sounds of nature or other runners coming up behind. I had passed one lady earlier on and had not seen Charles Rose yet, so I assumed he was behind me somewhere. He was an older guy who I had run in the back of the pack with at other races before. I had increased my speed over the past season, and I had now moved up in the pack enough to have him running behind me.

     I climbed over more of these wooden ladders and worked my way towards the first of many water drops that lined the course. There would be one aid station at mile 8, and then another 11 miles before the next aid. I hoped to arrive at the first aid in under 2 hours. I hit the first water drop at mile 4 in 50 minutes and felt good about my pace. I didn't need water yet, so I ran past it. I continued on towards the first aid station, cruising along comfortably.

     It took me 1 ½ hours to reach the first aid station and I was really surprised. It was a big boost for me. The course was really runnable, with only some short, steep climbs. Most of the climbing was gentle and easy enough to run up, using form techniques I had been learning about through a fellow Altra ambassador, Damian Stoy from Wholistic Running. I let myself fall into the hill and increased my foot turnover. I leaned forward from my ankles and effortlessly climbed. 

     The wind was definitely a factor. I kept my wool Buff Wear brand buff, pulled up over my head and around my face. I also wore a Smartwool neck gaiter and my fleece UltraPedestrian beanie. I had my Altra shirt and Smartwool arm sleeves on, with a Smartwool mid-weight sweater on over them. It would be easy enough to shed my sweater when I warmed up enough. As it turned out, I didn't need to take it off until about ten that morning, the wind keeping it cool enough to still need the layer. I wore gloves to keep my hands warm and calf sleeves for some extra warmth on my legs. Now that winter was over, it had been feeling so good to run without tights or capris, so I just had on a Salomon running skort, my very favorite brand. The under shorts never ride up or cause discomfort, and the over skirt of light fabric just moves easily with me as I run. Once the warmer weather arrives, I wear nothing but Salomon skorts. I'd worn one completely out on my thru-hike of the Arizona Trail last spring and I have one other lightweight one that is a little big around the waist with no way to tighten it. I like this black one as it has a drawstring to keep tied tight enough to keep it up as the run goes on, and adjust it so the waist band does not settle onto my hip bones causing bruising. 

     I had chosen my new Altra Lone Peak 2.0 as my shoe for this first 50k, and would change into my Altra Olympus for the second 50k if my feet were needing the max cush. As a second year Altra ambassador, I'm lucky enough to have an arsenal at my disposal.  At the half way point in the race too, I would know if the trails were technical enough to require the more aggressive tread of the Lone Peaks, or if the Olympus' tread would be adequate. I figured there would be some rock and lumpy ground across the grasslands, but I didn't know how technical it would actually be. As it turned out, the trails were lumpy and rocky, but not like what I'm used to in the Okanogan Highlands. The ground was dry, so mud wasn't a concern. I really liked the trail tread in most ways and found it easy enough to navigate in a fun way – a little dancing through the rocks here and there, speedy sections with no obstacles, and lumpy ground that kept me thinking quickly. Everything about the course was turning out to be better than I could have hoped. I was having a blast!

     As I was getting closer to passing through the ranch upon completion of the first 30k loop, I could see some yellow flags coming up through some rock formations. The flags joined up with the orange flags I'd been following, right at a junction with several ladder crossings. I figured this must be where the 20k loop came in and I must be close to the ranch. This felt good. There was a water drop here and I remembered from studying the course description ahead of time, that there was about 1 ½ miles from this final water drop to the start/finish and the spot where the 20k loop begins. I was pleased with my time and how I felt. I would drop off a couple layers and pick up some Clif Bars at my bin, and eat from the aid station. I like to plan out exactly what I will do at the aid station before I get there, so that I can be as efficient as possible and not become distracted. I got there, filled my water, snacked and took off up the hill to begin the 20k loop. 

     Eric had been working on his lap top at one of the picnic tables there, so I had a chance to ask him how Ras was doing. He said that Ras had reported his toe was hurting some, but he basically was feeling good and running strong. I was not surprised that he was still going. His strength and endurance is amazing. I knew he would power through the race as long as he wasn't causing further damage to his laceration that had begun to heal since he injured it, five days previous.

     The first climb up the 20k loop was the most significant one on the course. The wind was howling and I was climbing against it. It threatened to hold me back, pushing at me with all it's strength. I power hiked as fast as my legs could go, climbing along the grassy trail. It felt good to be on the second part of the course. I had wondered how different this loop would be from the previous one. The changes were welcome though, until I got to the most challenging section of the course. This section was double track trail, the tracks being too narrow to run in and the center of the tracks too lumpy to get a good rhythm going. I tried to run in the tracks and wondered how the other runners were handling this section. I knew that Ras, with his feet much bigger than mine, must be having a heck of a time in here. I hopped back and forth from one track to the other. At times, I tried to get good footing in the center. Quick and nimble, I tried to be like a goat as I hopped and trotted along this section, wondering how long it would go on. The trail switched back on itself and this tread continued. Finally, it turned into pleasant single track and descended to the aid station, five miles into this 20k loop. The dad and son team running this aid station were friendly and kind. They said everyone had mentioned the conditions of that last couple of mile stretch, and it gave me a connection once again to the rest of the pack. I asked about Ras, describing him as the guy with the long dreadlocks, and they had of course remembered him. They said he was running great and was in good spirits. I know he likes to joke around with the aid station volunteers and it sounds like he had been doing just that. 

    I continued on, now down a dirt road with Rock Creek gurgling and rushing alongside it. It was nice to hear the sounds of the creek. The dirt road came to a bridge which crossed the creek and then continued on for several miles, before heading into a marshy area, with tall grasses. The course was superbly marked and never once did I question which way to go. I was super impressed with this and felt confident that once I was on this section at night, alone in the dark, I could surely find my way with ease. 

     Dark clouds came and went over head. The sun was warm when it was out from behind clouds and the temperature was nice for running, not too hot or too cold. The wind was not letting up and I hoped that it would settle down when evening came as it sometimes does. A shift in the time of day can bring a calm to the air. I hoped for this, but did not really expect it, as the gusts still felt so powerful and relentless. My lips were getting chapped and my face began to feel the effects from the dry, windy air. Being an east-sider, though, my skin is exposed to sun year round, so I didn't feel as though I was getting sunburned. I had forgotten to put on sun screen though, and wished I had protected my skin from the elements, conditioned or not. I pulled my buff around my face and at times, when the wind got really strong, I also pulled the heavier neck gaiter around my ears too. It was easy enough to pull both of these layers up on to the top of my head, out of my way, when I felt too warm. Head layers, are great for this; pulling around my face for protection as needed and easily pushing the layers away. I used these layers for the entire run and never felt like I needed to tuck them away in my Ultimate Directions SJ running vest.

     In just under 3 ½ hours, I saw the familiar spot where the yellow flags join the orange flags at the spot where there are three ladder crossings. It felt so good to be here! I was on the home stretch , completing the first 50k. My 50k Personal Record is 6:42, so I had hoped to finish this part of the race in 7 hours. I would finish it in 7:30 instead, but I was okay with that. I just had to keep moving like I had been and I would make the cut-off. I would stay on track with my time goals, close enough anyway.

     My plan was to change into my Olympus, as I could tell by now that they would be great on this course. My feet were hanging in there, but I liked the idea of the max cush now. I also liked the idea of sitting out of the wind for just a few minutes while I changed into them inside our Easy-Up shelter. I also needed to get some more Clif Bars from my bin, snack on chips and bananas at the aid station and make a few other minor adjustments. I filled my water, poured a Mango flavored drink into my second water bottle and took off towards the tin buildings for the second time that day. This time, there were no runners ahead of me though and no mysteries. I knew what would lie ahead on this loop. I just had to keep moving through the grasslands, winding amongst the mystical rock formations, trying to stay on my feet. I'd already taken a couple of falls, once landing so that my left rib cage, hit against some rocks and another time landing in a way that scraped up my shins.  Neither of these falls had caused any serious damage, luckily, but they reminded me of the potential of what could go wrong.

     I wanted to stay steady all day and run even splits on my loops. I figured I would slow down on my final loop as darkness hit, so I wanted to make good time during all of the daylight hours. I continued to push along the trail, listening to music, sipping on my water and flavored drink regularly, and nibbling on bars. Sometimes my stomach would start to feel really empty, so I would take in a Hammer Gel and pull out a Clif Bar. I loved the peanut butter gels that were being provided at the aid stations and found them to be very palatable. I never had any GI issues and really felt good all day. I had used Gu Rocktane on my first loop, then the hibiscus drink from the aid station, later Hammer Mango Endurolytes, and finally, straight coke. I went back and forth, consistently sipping water from one bottle and then the flavored drink with calories from the other. I stayed well-hydrated this way. I never use salt capsules of any kind, relying on salt intake from the salty snacks I eat at the aid stations and what is in the drinks I consume.  I don't have issues with any swelling in my hands and I seem to have figured out a balance that works well for me.

     This race is my final one before Pigtails 150 next month, so I was definitely using it to help determine what I still need to get dialed in before then and whether I'm conditioned for that kind of mileage. Ever since I began ultrarunning, I have used the back-to-back running days format to determine how prepared I am to tackle a distance. When I could run 15 miles two days in a row, then I knew I was as prepared as I could be for my first 50k. Before Echo Valley 50 mile trail run, put on by Evergreen Trail Runs, I ran Yakima Skyline 25k with 5,000 feet of elevation gain one day, and the next I ran Spokane River Run 50k, with 1,700 feet of gain. I accomplished that goal. Echo Valley 50 Mile was the following month, and I was able to complete it. Another goal accomplished. This past January, I completed a 200k Nordic Ski Challenge (read my trip report here). I thru-skied 200k through the Methow Trails system in a 55 hour push, including about 13 hours of napping and getting warm in the camper. After this, I knew I was ready to sign-up for Pigtails 150.  Running this 100k as another test piece for that distance, I knew I wanted to still feel gas in the tank at the finish line and know that I could get up the next day and do it all over again. 

     It felt good to reach the aid station for the second time on the 30k loop. The same teenage guys were still working there and were friendly and encouraging. It was a good milestone. I thanked them for being there all day and went on my way. I never tired of the scenery. I liked the way the course changed from jeep track, to single track, to dirt road, all the while taking turns and twists. Stepping over the ladders changed up the rhythm just enough to keep things interesting. It was so different from running through the damp, thick forests of the west side of the Cascades. It was different in most ways from where I run from home in the Okanogan Highlands, amongst sage brush; through pine, tamarack, aspen, fir and saskatoon trees; climbing steep rocky trails through Whistler Canyon; circumnavigating the tall peak of Bonaparte Mountain on rugged, narrow trail. 

     This ground was dry and grassy, like home, but there were very few trees. Saskatoons and willow were growing near some of the small ponds. There were cattails and tall grasses in these areas as well. There were some sweet little wildflowers in bloom too, dotting the landscape and adding color against the new green of the fresh spring grass. It was a very pleasant landscape to take in, all day long. I never tired of it.

     Now I was back at the main aid station, the spot where I would not allow any temptation to call it at 50 miles come into my consciousness. I was not allowing it while running, and I wanted my strength to hold while I was here. My plan was to grab my Black Diamond Ultra Distance Z Poles to help with the climbs on this 20k loop, now that I had 50 miles on my legs, and to aid with the lumpy, narrow tracked section before the aid station. I also needed to grab my headlamp out of my bin and find something more substantial to eat. I was feeling pretty hungry at this point, now just shy of 13 hours into the race.

      I crossed the bridge over Rock Creek and ran the final stretch into the main aid station. Julie Cassata who had won the 50k earlier in the day, greeted me with a high five and a big, friendly smile. It made me feel so good to see someone I knew and to get some encouragement at this point in the run. Then I saw Ras in his puffy jacket and I knew he was done running. Had he finished the 100k this much in front of me, or had he decided to just complete the 50 mile distance instead? Julie said that he had stopped at 50 and then I got to him and gave him a hug. He said his toe had bled through his shoe and he just had to stop. He ended up being the overall winner of the 50 mile with a time of 11:29:18. I asked if Charles was still running behind me and Mark told me he had dropped. I now finally asked the question I'd been wondering in the back of my mind all day. Was I the only woman running the 100k? Yes, I was. I had 13 miles to go and I would be the only woman finisher, first place woman. This was the only way I could ever get a first place finish. I am not an elite, front of the pack kind of gal. This feeling was incredible. I was completely stoked and energized. Mark made me a delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwich on really fresh bread, and I took off up the hill for my final loop, headlamp on my head, ready to turn on once darkness came.

     I had about an hour before the sun would set. I took off power hiking as fast a I could. I wasn't having any of the serious tiredness in my legs I tend to get during ultra runs. I was super focused as I moved forward, each step getting me closer and closer to finishing. My motivation was empowering. I moved well, in good spirits, feeling confident and brave. I knew Dave Lund was way ahead of me, probably just about to finish the loop. Arthur had already finished and he, Dave and I, would be the only finishers. I would be third over-all. 

     I ran everything I could and hiked steep hills. Each moment counted now that dark was approaching. I could move better in the light. There would be no one at the aid station, the volunteers long since had gone home. There would be no sweeper behind me. This was up to me. I had to stay on course and I had to stay strong in every way. I could not fall. I used each landmark I could remember: the place where the trail dipped down into a draw between two tall basalt formations; the spot where it passes close to some little lakes; the kind of crappy section of narrow tracks and lumpy ground from cow hoof prints permanently embedded. My poles helped a lot in this area and I actually enjoyed it. They gave me an extra point of balance and I was so glad I had brought them on this loop. The sunset had been spectacular and lasted forever. The horizon was a soft lavender shade, so peaceful and tranquil. A group of about five deer stood on the ridge in the distance, their silhouettes standing out in the dim light of dusk. I felt calm and welcomed the darkness that I had earlier been dreading.

     With the company of my normal reggae music still playing in my head, I continued to move just I had been all day. I did not let the darkness intimidate me. I looked carefully for each trail marker. They were now my friends, my guides. With each marker I felt connected to what I was doing and focused on the end goal. I moved from marker to marker,  sometimes even thanking them out loud, now lonely from hours on the trail solo. 

     I had grabbed the little baggie of gummy bears and strawberry newtons from the aid station table, since there was no one else behind me requiring aid. I snacked on these a couple of different times along the way. The sweet treats were little rewards and a way to change things up, whenever I began to feel even slightly overwhelmed. I had to stay cool and calm, and so I kept any negative thoughts or feelings from coming to life. When my music shut off between tracks and the silent, still night became too eerie, I went back to the comfort of my music. Suddenly, a little mouse darted in front of me. It was the color of the ground and very hard to see, but my headlamp caught the movement. We definitely startled each other. It ran off the trail ahead of me, darting to and fro until it finally realized I was going to keep moving forward on the same trail. I startled another tiny field mouse a few minutes later, but these were the only critters I saw in the dark.
     
     And then there I was, back at the junction with the water drop and the wooden ladders over the conjoining fence lines and where the orange and the yellow flags come together. I had grown to love this spot. I said “Yes!” out loud and even gave a fist pump. I was here and now I only had a mile and a half to go. I picked up the pace and ran as if I had just started out for the day. My legs felt fresh. It's called “smelling the oats in the barn”. I smelled them and I was going straight towards the barn, or the old, creaky ranch buildings, rather.  The final wooden ladder, the shortie of the bunch, came upon me faster than I had expected and I almost felt tears well up in my eyes. I had it now. Take the left through the old ranch site and cross the bridge to the finish, that was all I had left to do.  

     I didn't know if anyone would still be there or not. I even figured there was a chance Ras had gone to sleep. The volunteer who'd been helping all day said he'd pull his car up and to wake him up when I finished if he had fallen asleep. But as I got closer, I heard Ras yell “Whoo!” and saw his headlamp ahead. I ran towards it and then stopped running for the day. I was done. 16:41:23 for First woman and Third over-all. The kind volunteer handed me a  yellow potted miniature rose and I thanked him for staying out late for me. Then Ras, who'd driven our car over to the finish to wait for me, drove me over to the Easy-Up shelter where he heated up the Tofu ScRamble and I got into cozy, warm clothes. 

     The day ended perfectly, just as it had begun and had continued to be throughout. My legs still felt strong and I could imagine doing it again the next day. I'd met all of my goals, except my finishing time being under 16. I was still pleased with what I did. Thank you Rebecca Jensen, Mark Taylor and Eric Bone of Northwest Trail Runs! I will be back to run Rock Creek Ramble again. 

Windy Peak Circumnavigation

Windy Peak Circumnavigation:
Rugged Trails In the Remote East Pasayten Wilderness

By Kathy Vaughan

     The dogs began to bark, letting me know that Lisa had arrived. She was right on time, although I had forgotten what time we had decided on in our phone conversation, several days prior. I was just about ready, but I had to make a cup of coffee for the road and grab my hummus and sandwich rolls to make up my trail food while on our two hour drive to the Long Swamp trail head.

     Lisa and I had a 31 mile run planned in the Horseshoe Basin area of the Pasayten Wilderness. We would start off by climbing to just below the summit of 8.300 foot Windy Peak, and then circumnavigate it. The route was a lollipop, meaning the trail taking us towards Windy Peak was about four miles, making up the stick of the lollipop. We would then travel in a clockwise direction around the mountain, returning to our lollipop stick that would take us back to Lisa's truck at the end of our run.

     I loaded my gear in Lisa's truck and we took off, hoping to be on the trail around 8 o'clock. The ride was scenic and pleasant. Lisa and I enjoyed catching up with each other, having not spent time together since our last run together, a 34 miler on the Kettle Crest Trail in the Colville National Forest, the end of June.

     We passed by the Similkameen river; numerous apple orchards; old homestead apricot trees, loaded with fruit; the Enloe Dam; Palmer Lake and a handsome herd of Big Horn Mountain sheep, grazing peacefully in the early morning sun. As we rode along, Lisa told me about how she had called the local ranger district for the most current trail information. She asked about each specific trail that would connect our loop together, making it a thru route and she was assured that downed trees had been cleared off of each of these trails.

     We purchased our $5.00 Northwest Recreation Pass, and readied our packs. The trail started out with a stiff climb towards the mountain, so we settled into it. We both were using Black Diamond trekking poles. I like using poles for more rugged adventures, when I know there will be lots of steep climbs and technical descents. I find them very helpful. Being a cross country skier, it comes naturally to me to use these with good technique.

     The wild flowers were abundant and fragrant. Fireweed was growing everywhere, prone to thriving in old burns, like the one through which we were now climbing. Lisa told me that before the flowers bloom, when they are young and tender, they are good for eating and taste similar to young fiddle head ferns. We also saw little Grouse worel berries growing, low to the ground. They were tiny and tasted like huckleberries. They were delicious. Nature's bounty was everywhere. The old burn had encouraged new growth in the fertile soil it left in it's wake. We later learned that the fire had burned through this area 8 years ago, in the summer of 2006.

     Below the summit of Windy Peak, Lisa and I took a break to have something to eat and soak in the views. As a trail crew supervisor for the Forest Service, Lisa has worked throughout much of the Pasayten Wilderness. She recognized many of the distant peaks as she cast her gaze out over the distant peaks and ranges. Referring to her map, Lisa was able to point out many of the areas where she had worked. The views were spectacular from this high perch. It was a perfect day to be in the mountains.

     We hit the trail again, now dropping down into Horseshoe Basin. This area was rich with little streams, other varieties of wildflowers like Indian paintbrush and lupine, and groves of aspen trees that offered nice shade with their thick foliage. The breeze carried with it the sound of their leaves quaking and bird song from the happy feathered creatures enjoying the trees. I love aspen groves. They are filled with character. Aspen often rot as they get bigger, due to growing in wet environments. This means that there are often downed aspen in these groves that get silvered, piling on top of each other like matchsticks. Some of the older gnarled ones that die remain standing. The woodpeckers like these and create holes in them, turning them into flutes as the wind passes through. The white bark of the aspen also contributes to the beauty found in these stands of trees, making them endearing throughout all of the seasons of the year.

     We climbed out of Horsehoe Basin to reach a place called Sunny Pass. Here, we were surrounded by lovely alpine meadows filled with flowers. The colors seemed almost unreal; bright fuschia Indian Paintbrush, purple lupine, yellow asters, white yarrow and other flowers encompassing every color of the rainbow. We ran a 2 mile out n' back from this point to hit a place called Louden Lake. This section of trail was cruisy, winding through these flower meadows, crossing streams and dancing through the rocky trail. We ran into an old timer who immediately introduced himself to us. He went through his entire list of experiences he'd had in this area since the early 1970's. He was in the middle of a training hike, getting him ready to keep up with the younger folks with whom he normally hikes. He was quite the character and Lisa and I had some good laughs throughout the rest of our run remembering our conversation with him. He had told us that in all of his years hiking in this area of the Pasayten, he had never talked to anyone that made the approach to Windy Peak from the same trail head that Lisa and I had used. 

     This was a fun little ego boost, as Lisa and I had both felt like we had mostly been climbing, now half way into our day. We had miles to go still, but our climbing legs were feeling the elevation gain we had been chewing away at, as we looked back over the direction from which we had come. We had been climbing over many downed trees, from the first section of trail we hit, throughout the rest of the day. We were surprised at this, Lisa having been told all trails were cleared. We turned it into a joke, each time we came to a huge jumble of stacked trees over the trail. One of us would call out “All's Clear!”. At the end of the day, we'd both be scratched and scraped from climbing over or crawling under these.

     We stayed up high, following a ridge line, after returning to Sunny Pass from our out n' back to Louden Lake. The trail became very rocky and technical, slowing our pace so that we could make our way through this section without a twisted ankle. We could see Windy Peak now. It was still far away. We would have to drop down off of this high ridge and climb 1,300 feet back up, in a mile and a half, to reach the lollipop stick portion of our route, before we would leave Windy Peak behind us for the day.

     I saw a nice flat rock, one like Ras would love to rest upon, so I suggested we take another break before continuing along the ridge. Lisa liked this idea. The flat rock had a huge one standing on end behind it, so we were able to rest up against it, stretching our legs out in front of us on the cool rock below. The day had been hot and dry, the temperatures reaching the mid 90's. We had kept well hydrated and stopped for water at a nice creek in the Horseshoe Basin. Our water was holding out pretty good, but we looked at the map and decided to stop and filter more at our next creek crossing. I was carrying a Katadyn water filter bag, convenient to fill from a water source and then hang from a tree branch or log to refill bottles through the gravity feed, while you rest and eat. Ras and I used this on our Arizona Trail thru hike and I highly recommend it as a great way to treat water on the trail. It's simple to use.

     Evening was coming on as we stopped at the creek. I put my Altra visor away, tucked my sunglasses and camera inside my pack and made sure my headlamp was handy to pull out when the light became too dim to see without it. I had extra batteries inside my pack, just in case. We continued through the creek bottoms. The evening air felt cooler and we made good time, working our way towards the big climb we knew we had ahead.

     The trail began to ascend and we knew we had now reached that climb. Only a mile and half, but it seemed to last forever. It became dark about half way into it and at the same time, the trail grew faint. Not many hikers use this route, and grasses were growing over it in places. I was leading the way. I slowed down at times and even came to a stop a time or two, trying to find the trail. At one point I said to Lisa that I thought maybe we had missed the turn for the lollipop stick. I felt like we really should have been to it by now and that we were possibly climbing Windy Peak for a second time instead of descending back down to the truck. She assured me it was just up ahead. My mind was playing tricks on me. I was tired and feeling like the climb was lasting forever, that surely we had missed our turn.

Sure enough, within minutes of this scare, we reached the silvered sign directing us back towards the trail head where we had begun our run this morning. We still had at least 4 miles to go, but at least we were on the final stretch and knew we were headed in the right direction.

     The trail tread became easier and I tried to pick up the pace, running when I could and speed hiking as fast as I could. It was getting late, but I didn't want to check my watch to see what time it was. I felt like this would break up the momentum and give me information I didn't really need to have. Putting one foot in front of the other as quickly as I could was the only focus I had at the time. Lisa said she could make coffee for us when we got to her truck and I was extremely motivated by this good news. I really love coffee and I couldn't wait to enjoy a cup when this night time trail adventure ended.

     My surroundings all looked the same. There were charred trees on either side of me, creating a tunnel, both physically and in my mind. I looked straight ahead, only sensing these trees in my periphery. I wanted to see the thick cover of the fireweed again, knowing this would mean we were almost to the truck. Lisa and I moved quietly, our visiting long since done. We moved together as a unit; I could hear her footfalls behind me and if they changed even the slightest, I would know. If she fell behind to make an adjustment, I sensed it. She and Ras both like when I lead the pace, so I have a sense of comfort in that position on the trail with both of them now. It feels natural and intuitive. I can always sense Ras dropping behind as well, and I usually know without looking what he's doing. If it takes a few minutes, he is likely fiddling around with his mp3 player. If it's just a few seconds, he's probably watering the trail. On hot days, I know he'll stop at creeks. If it's going to be more than a few minutes, he will call out to me to stop. With the right running partner, a run can at times feel like a solo venture. When running in silence together for miles, you can experience the solitude of the wilderness. You can have the safety and comfort of having a friend with you, while benefiting from the stillness of nature. I love that with both Ras and Lisa, I can have this experience.

     During one of our stretches of solitude, Lisa suddenly stopped behind me. She quietly said, “ There is some kind of bear down there.” I stopped and looked down into the deep creek bed, watching for movement or a dark animal. Within a few seconds, the bear began to run in the opposite direction of Lisa and I. Following behind, was her little cub. They were black bears, but in this area, it would not be out of the question to see a grizzly. Now, my bear sightings for the month of July total five (two mama bears with their cubs and one yearling by itself).

     Finally, Lisa called out that she could see reflectors down below. She was seeing her truck. I looked down and saw the reflections myself, thinking that we must have several switchbacks until we reached them. Instead, after just a few more minutes, we dropped right down to the back end of the truck, done with our Windy Peak Circumnavigation in 15:18.

     Lisa opened the tailgate and I pulled out my bag of dry, warm clothes. I saw her set up her Jet Boil to prepare the coffee she had promised while we were still on the trail. By the time I was changed into my cozy outfit, Lisa had pulled some amazing looking vegan spring rolls out of her cooler and opened up a container of Thai peanut dipping sauce. I could not believe my eyes. I had not gotten her Facebook message about this special treat she was bringing, and therefore I was surprised to see them there before me. As I thanked her, I opened the container of vegan chocolate chip/ dried apricot bars that I had made. We went over some of the highlights of our day as we filled ourselves with the nourishment we had brought to share with each other.

Gear List

1. Altra Lone Peak 1.5s
2. What An Adventure Ultra Bag
3. Black Diamond Ultra Distance Z Poles (no longer able to fold down, duct taped together)
4. Black Diamond headlamp with 3 extra AAA batteries
5. Ras' Western Mountaineering puffy suit (lighter weight than my own Mammut puffy jacket and Montbell puffy pants)
6. Smartwool hooded mid-weight sweater
7. Smartwool toe socks
8. Run Pretty Far gaiters
9. Solomon black running skort
10. North Face Spokane River Run tech-t
11. Small ziplock baggie of first aid supplies: neoprene ankle wrap, a few Tums and Reed's ginger chews, 8 ibuprofen, inhaler for asthma (rarely use, but just in case), 2 benadryl capsules
12. UltraPedestrian fleece beenie
13. bandana
14. Altra buff , visor and bracelet (Always Representing!!)
15. bandana
16. Buff Wear merino wool buff
17. Swix cross country ski gloves
18. Rain dickie (light weight rain vest that comes built into my W.A.A. Pack)
19. Food for the day included: 1 raspberry flavored Hammer gel (leftover from a race), 6 Clif bars, a package of corn nuts (low fat & salty), 1 package of mango green tea beverage to add to my water bottle, several Nuun electrolyte tablets, 1 roasted garlic hummus sandwich on a chipotle roll (I was hesitant to eat the second sandwich I had brought as the day became hot and my stomach had times of queasiness already)
    
    

    

    
    
    
    
    
    
    

Baker Lake 100k Fat Ass Trip Report

Baker Lake 100k Fat Ass Trail Run:
Friending Frogs, Ferns & Five Finishes To Become A Hall of Famer

By Kathy Vaughan

     Two fisherman came towards Ras and I as we started out on our 63 mile run at around 7 a.m., the light having been in the sky for almost 3 hours now. It didn't look like they had caught anything, except a startle as they saw two runners coming towards them in the cool of the morning along Baker River. Ras and I had wanted to get an earlier start than this, but we had traveled across the North Cascades Highway to reach the Kulshan Campground around 10 p.m. The night before, after having gotten a surprise day off from our summer work at a local organic fruit orchard. The apricots needed more time to ripen and this gave us just the window of opportunity we had been looking for to run the Fat Ass Style 100k offered by Terry Sentinella, the race director of the official Baker Lake 50k Trail Run held the beginning of each October. Baker Lake 50k had been my first ultra, my first trail race, and my first organized event of any kind back in 2011 and I had run it every year since. I was determined to finish this 100k distance, not knowing what it would feel like to be running that second 50k until I was actually doing it.

     Ras and I had set out to run the 100k, Fat Ass style, in November, when Terry had offered it last year. The weather was frigid and wet, the days were shorter and we got 50k in before we called it due to running in standing ice water as snow continued to fall on us. This time around, we were using the same system we had used in November, by setting up a camp at Kulshan Campground and beginning the run at the Baker River Trailhead parking area on the other end of the lake, 15.5 miles away. We would run to our camp to change layers and access food and then run back to Baker River Trail head, twice. We had a cooler, stocked with burritos, veggie wraps and energy drinks. We had a bag of ice cubes to fill our water bottles with ice and the campground itself had a spigot we could use. Our car would be at the Baker River Trail head, stocked with a cooler, food and fresh clothing options as well. We would cover each 15.5 mile stretch, without support or filtering water, but then have a good resupply session at each turn around spot.

     The first 15.5 miles went smoothly. I started to sweat almost immediately from the humidity that hung in the damp, rich forest canopy. I enjoyed the views of the river as it braided it's way toward the lake. There were many alder trees, thimble berry bushes, salmon berries, horsetail, broad & narrow leaf plantain and varying grasses growing in the river valley. The trail crossed the Baker River on a sturdy suspension bridge. The trail was gentle and smooth, easy to start out the run at a good pace. Soon, we were to the lake and crossing bridges over drainages coming down off the steep hillside to our left. A rustling in the bushes drew our attention to a mama bear. We at first didn't see her young cub, but heard it as it climbed up a large fir tree. We said hi to the bear and then moved past it calmly. She stayed with her cub as we passed. It energized us to have this bear sighting. Ras and I had seen a yearling bear just 2 days previous in the East Pasayten Wilderness while on a portering job. I like seeing these wild creatures, so big and powerful, yet mostly wanting nothing more than to be left alone. In all of the bear sightings I've had over the years, they've always vanished into the wilderness as quickly as they could. The cubs have always climbed trees while the mother stays below. I respect the protectiveness they show of their young. Ras would sometimes joke with me while our daughter, Angela, was growing up, that I was like a mama Grizzly.

     The old growth trees stood like majestic giants along the trail, causing us to occasionally point out one of these beauties to each other. The old trees were mostly cedar and hemlock. The deep greens and lush undergrowth were pleasing to the eye. Ras and I live in the north central part of Washington, where the forests have been logged of almost all old growth; it is a rare joy to see ferns growing and the forest floor more open, hosting wild rose bushes, pine grass, lupine, currants, wild strawberries, and aspen groves. There are only a couple of cedar groves left in our area, special spots known only to a few locals.

     I love spending time in these rich forests on the western side of the Cascade range. Ras and I ran quietly for miles, taking in everything this forest and the lakeside views had to offer. After about 14 miles, we were off the single track and on dirt road, for the final descent to the Baker Dam. We crossed the dam, Mt. Baker nearly within an arm's reach, and then finished our first of four 15.5 mile legs.

     We ran up to our awaiting tent. The campground was peaceful yet active. Families were enjoying a nice summer day and an old timer had arrived, setting up his trailer in the camp neighboring ours. He watched us, seemingly curious about where we had come from and what we had planned. Ras ate a burrito he had made for himself, and I discovered that the spinach tortilla I'd used to put together a veggie wrap had become a soggy mess. I couldn't eat it. I had made two of these for the day, already cutting myself a little short. I had other food with me, but these wraps were meant to be my lunch and dinner, a little more sustenance than the Clif bars, gels and package of Clif Blocks I had brought. The last minute decision to drive over to Baker Lake and run 100k, had meant I'd put less time and energy into preparing food for the run than I normally did. While Ras was making his burritos, I made the decision to try to use up these spinach tortillas I had and stick with raw veggies rather than beans and rice. I should have stuck with our normal standby, bean & rice burritos. “Nothing new on race day” is a saying you hear in the running community. I've changed it to “Nothing new on adventure day”.

     We left Kulshan Campground after nearly 45 minutes spent adding new bars and other snacks to our packs, refilling our water bottles and mixing in a Nuun tablet, eating and resting. We decided that we would move steadily for each 15.5 mile stretch and take rests at each end as needed. We hiked the paved section to the dam, ran across it and then continued the steep dirt road climb back to the single track. We had seen a senior citizens' hiking group coming towards us as we finished this stretch on our way to Kulshan nearly an hour ago. We were now seeing this same group as they made their return hike back to their cars. They were spread apart now and very curious as to what we were up to, running towards them from the opposite direction. We answered their questions in whatever format seemed appropriate, depending on to whom we were speaking. Most folks would be to overwhelmed if we tried to explain we were going to run the length of this trail four times. One friendly man understood what we were in the middle of, as he had been on the trail in the fall when the official Baker Lake 50k and 100k trail race was being held. He had an understanding of ultra running and he cheered us on. I liked seeing this diverse group, trekking poles and oversized packs, proud of being on this hike they'd likely planned for weeks.

     It was now midday and the sun was hot. The humidity hung heavy and we continued to drip sweat. The creek drainages offered a wonderfully cool breeze, the air cold from the mountain streams. I wetted my bandana and Altra visor at each of these creeks, splashing water on my face as I did so. This helped keep my body temperature cooler. Nearly to the Baker River again after having run the length of the trail a second time, Ras and I stopped at a large bridge to take in the cold air coming off the hillside, being washed downstream with the ice cold water. He wet his dreadlocks and splashed water all over him. I wet my bandana and sat in the soft moss in the cool shade of a large tree. We wanted to keep making good progress on the trail, but we also knew that taking care of ourselves in this heat was important and would allow us to complete this run. Lowering our core body temperatures would keep us safe. We both love finding special spots along the trail to enjoy what nature has provided. This was one of them.

     After 9 hours of running, hiking and enjoying mountain streams, we made it to the Baker River Trailhead, where our car and cold drinks were waiting. At this turn around, I changed into dry Smart Wool toe socks and my max cushion Olympus. I had been wearing my Lone Peaks and they were giving me all of the traction and maneauverability I needed. I was now ready for some max cushion, my feet feeling the 31 miles they'd taken me so far. I have done this several times now on really long runs, starting out in the Lone Peaks and switching to the Olympus at the half way point, when my feet are ready for some max cushion love. This way, I get to run in both of my favorite shoes and enjoy the benefits of both styles. (Ras did the opposite, running the first 50k in the new Altra Paradigm sent to him by Phil at Seven Hills Running Shop, then changing into his trusty Lone Peaks for the second 50k.) As an Alta Ambassador, I'm blessed with owning both pairs and always interested in how they function in differing conditions, allowing me to share this information with others.

     As a newbie ultrarunner in 2011, I ran this very course and rolled an ankle after only a couple of miles. I then rolled it a 2^nd time about ten miles deep, yet still refused to quit the race. This experience slowed me down for over a year, on downhill and rocky trail, nervous about reinjuring my ankle. Now, with a lot more experience and confidence, I was able to put on the Olympus, which has less traction than the Lone Peak, and know that I could handle the more technical sections of trail without the more aggressive lug.

     It felt good to sit down on the car seat while I changed into dry socks and the Olympus. I slammed a sugar-free, ice cold Rockstar energy drink, cherry flavored. What a treat! I like to trick myself into thinking the B vitamins, taurine and caffeine give me a much needed boost, but in reality, it just tastes good. I don't drink alcohol or soda, so this is the beverage of choice I turn to when I'm wanting a treat or reward during a hard endurance effort.

     I switched out of my Ultimate Directions PB vest into a Nathan vest. The UD pack, which has water bottles riding up front, was bruising my ribs. I loaded the Nathan vest, included my headlmap and extra batteries and mentally prepared myself to head out for a second 50k. I knew that once I got going, I would settle into the distance. Ras took care of his needs as well and we started off along the Baker River again. We began hiking, finishing the food we had been eating and softly chatting with each other about some of our strategies for the second half and giving each other positive feedback about how well our run had gone so far, despite the high humidity.

     I had changed into a dry Salomon skort, my favorite skort because the inner shorts provide compression and do not ride up while running, and I had hung my Altra shirt to dry, while we were on our last break. Starting out in fresh, dry clothing and different shoes, was a luxury I appreciated. Many of my runs are unsupported, and there is no option but to stay in the clothing and shoes in which I start. On my 800 mile thru hike of the Arizona Trail I'd completed in May with Ras, we both hiked in our same outfit every day, washing our clothes out whenever we had a chance to be by an appropriate water source. We were hiking in a minimalist style and carrying as little gear with us as possible. On the AZT a fresh outfit to change into would have been an unnecessary luxury, as pack weight in food and water was the priority.

     The air had not begun to cool and the thick mugginess was still present. We listened to our mp3 players and made our way along the trail, now mixing in more hiking on the steeper sections as the miles began to take their toll on our bodies. The course gains a total of about 7,000 feet in elevation, which makes for a mostly rolling trail, with only a few sets of switchbacks. The trail winds along a high point in one section, away from the thick forest canopy and exposed to the breeze coming off of the large lake. It felt so good to be in this more open air. We picked up the pace and before we knew it, we were running down the dirt road for the 2^nd time, almost to the dam crossing and then Kulshan Campground for our final turnaround point.

     Darkness had settled over the trail now and with it, a slight cooling in the temperature. I still felt sweaty, yet with the cooler air temperatures, it had become even more uncomfortable. At times I felt clammy & cold, and then I would feel uncomfortably hot. I had changed into a long sleeved shirt when we got to Kulshan, thinking I was going to feel cooler in the night. I had to keep pulling up my sweater to get some air to my clammy skin. I also began to feel drowsy, the dark night progressing as we worked to finish up the miles.

     The moonlight shone down on us and cast a dim light over the lake. The grand outlines of Mt. Baker and Shuksan could be seen in the distance, the moon allowing just enough light in the sky. We had gotten inside the tent at Kulshan to stay warm on our break. We decided to get under the sleeping bag, but our damp clothing and clammy skin wouldn't dry enough to allow us any comfort during the rest. Ras suggested we take a several hour nap and then finish off the last leg. He would need to drive us back to the Okanogan when we finished, and at that time we had thought we would just drive straight to work at the orchard. He thought the nap would help. I just wanted to take a brief rest and then get this run done. I knew the final 15.5 miles could possibly be a suffer fest, but I also knew I could do it. And I was ready to do it.

     Falling asleep while running/hiking in the night is a very disorienting thing to experience. My breathing began to change to a deep, relaxed style, the way one breathes when lying in bed ready to fall asleep for the night. I would start to have little dreams and then find myself off to the side of the trail, stumbling. The music I had playing in one ear had sounds to it that would sometimes startle me and for a moment I'd think it was coming from something in the woods. At several points along the way, we gave in to the tiredness and took very short trailside naps. The first time we did this, I had been stumbling along quietly, trying to stay awake. I did not know that Ras was struggling in this same way until he said, “I'm going to try to make it to Kevin's aid station, but I really need to sit down and take a short nap.” I was so relieved to hear him say this, as I was fantasizing about snuggling down in a soft bed of moss. Each place that looked even remotely inviting along the trail as we passed, would send me into one of these fantasies. Our friend Kevin Douglas had captained the Maple Grove aid station during the Baker Lake Trail Runs in the fall, so we now referred to this spot as “Kevin's Aid Station.”

     It seemed to take forever to get to Kevin's spot, but when we did we both remembered some nice logs surrounded by grasses that would be the perfect place to get a little rest before pushing forward. We kept our packs on but turned out our headlamps as we nestled into our sleeping spots. I wanted to keep a balance between fully sinking into the ground and allowing myself to sleep, yet not going into a deep enough sleep from which I would not awaken in 10 minutes or less. From Kevin's, Ras and I still had 10 miles to go. We could not afford to nap for too long.

     We got up from this rest and continued along the trail. Large frogs were enjoying the damp nighttime trail and sometimes it was hard to not step on them. We must have seen over 50 frogs, once darkness had come. By headlamp, the frogs' little eyes glowed in the dark while they slowly crawled off the trail, into the bushes along it's edge, more scared of us than we were of them. We saw only a couple of smaller frogs, most of them were large and pokey.

     Suddenly, Ras called out “What's that?” I looked ahead in the trail and saw a small, smoothed off stump in the middle of the path. Ras thought he had seen a calico cat, ready to go down into a burrow in the trail. We had been seeing many holes in the middle of the trail, made by marmots or ground squirrels. I told Ras he was hallucinating. He told me, no, it was merely a figment. We were both tired.

     Picking, sorting and packing organic fruit on our feet for nine hour work days had not prepped us well, as far as rest was concerned. We were tired going into this run, and now that night had fallen, we were just very sleepy. We took several more of this type of a trail side nap. Finally, we could see the sky lightening and the lake was once more fully visible. I could see the end of the lake, the Baker River dumping into it, bringing with it the Sockeye salmon that the floatilla of fishing boats had been after when we started this run the previous morning. I was ready to be out of the forest, running along the river, and finishing up at the car before too much light was in the sky.

     Ras and I passed by the cave entrances that had sent a draft of cold air our way as we passed them earlier in the day. We passed by the huckleberry and thimble berry bushes that had offered us juicy treats as we ran by their bushes in the hot daylight hours. Ras looked at his watch and said if we ran with everything we had left in us for the final river stretch, we could finish in under 23 hours. We pushed as hard as we could, leaving it all on the trail, to come in with a finishing time on this self-supported 100k of 22 hours 49 minutes.

     We were so happy to be done. We had just completed our 5^th Baker Lake run, the place where it all began for me 3 years ago, where I had my first ultra finish. Now, I had earned a spot in the Baker Lake Hall of Fame for having five finishes on this course. And I'd completed my first 100k. I can't wait to get that belt buckle. The middle of the night naps and tears had been replaced with the day's first light, a big smile on my face and endorphins raging throughout my system. Announcing to Ras on that last leg that I was not going to run Baker Lake 50k again in the fall, was premature. New rule: “No making proclamations of what you will never ever do again when you are in the throes of an adventure.” Now, my goal is to run along that lake again, the maple trees colorful and fragrant with their fall foliage, having a blast doing it, setting a course PR for myself in the process.


     We drove back to our tent at the Kulshan Campground and crawled inside. Ras was asleep and snoring within minutes. I tend to toss and turn after a big run, my feet aching and my mind racing with memories of what I have just done. I rested for a couple of hours and then got up to make veggie burgers and coffee. I visited with the old timer camping next to us and enjoyed the relaxation of being in the scenic campsite, my year long goal of running the Baker Lake 100k now accomplished.