UTMB Report

This was the big one.  Plenty of philosophical stuff popped out, but this post is more of a blow-by-blow. 

UTMB is a 105 mile foot race in the French/Italian/Swiss Alps, with about 31,000’ of climbing.  It follows the popular Tour du Mt Blanc, a hut-to-hut route circling the Mt Blanc massif.  The scenery is spectacular, yet the route is never too far from civilization.  But a big part of the experience is the culture surrounding the race, very different from what I'm used to.

The Start:

The race starts at 5:30pm in the center of Chamonix, France.  I was a bit stressed about the late starting time; I would certainly be racing through one night, the next day, and at least into the next night.  So on race day I slept in a bit (8:30am) and spent the day doing hardly anything but readying my gear and eating.  I tried to stay off my feet, even laying in shady grass for a while.  I'd been bouncing around town for a couple of days, and I was seeking quiet nooks for relief from the crescendo of hype and frantic energy that surround the races.

With 2400 runners, the starting area gets packed around the block.  Some runners show up early and sit on the ground to reserve a place near the start line.  The rest of us filed in between 4-5pm with ever increasing density.  This year, the threat of rain added to the excitement.  A passing shower or two coaxed a bunch of parkas out of the packs.  When it stopped raining, off came the parkas.  (This is not easy when you are basically a sardine.)  After a “briefing” at 5pm and some heroic-sounding words and music, a very dark cloud appeared.  Just when the starting horn went off, it started pouring.  By then, I’d decided I was going to run wet for a while and left the raingear in the pack.  Oregonian that I am, this was fine.  I could pull out the gear if/when it got cold up in the passes or into the night.


Waiting for the start

 

I've heard scare stories of the starting stampede.  This may happen at the front, but frankly back where we were there was no room to get a stampede going.  This was more like sand through a funnel.  After a couple of minutes, my neighbors and I oozed through the starting gate, and the next 10 minutes or so through town was stop and go.  This wasn’t a bad thing, and a quite reasonable way to warm up.  The town was packed with thousands of spectators lining the runners’ path all the way to the edge of town.

Twilight (0-31km)

The first few km are the easiest part of the entire course, mostly flat and rolling.  By the edge of Chamonix, we were running more or less freely.  A lot of runners could be seen sneaking relief to the side after holding it in for 1-2 hours at the start.  Fortunately there is no single track for the first 15k, so the field has a chance to spread out.  I found myself passing people in a relaxed sort of way, gradually finding my way toward my pace group.  More spectators appeared at places all along this stretch.  After about 45 minutes like this, we rolled into Les Houches (where I recognized a Romanian fellow from the CCC race I’d met at the hostel).  I ran straight through this aid stop, having not consumed much water or food yet.

Following Les Houches, the race launches into the first real climb, and out came all the poles. The runner density was still high, but the route was still following a road (mostly dirt), so there was room for everyone and their poles. By now, most of the overenthusiastic starters had settled into a more reasonable pace for a ~30+ hour race. It was still raining steadily, but with the exertion I was ok being wet, even though the majority still had their raingear on. At this point, my mission was to be efficient and not overdo it.



First big climb

 

Looking back

I topped out at Le Delevret (14km, +900m) at 1 ¾ hr.  This was a bit faster than my game plan, but I was feeling relaxed so not too worried. The descent to St Gervais was through ski slopes and pastures, and was quite muddy and slippery.  Well if there’s any terrain that plays to my skills, it’s mud.  I didn’t bomb the descent, but had a lot of fun with it and stayed more upright than some folks.  As we transitioned to the forest with firmer trails, I probably should have eased up a bit, but the momentum combined with the increasingly audible cheers from the town below was irresistible.  We zoomed into St Gervais around 8pm, and it looked like the whole town was on hand to cheer us on.  Many high-fives with kids lining the streets, a quick stop for water and fruit, and I motored on toward Les Contamines.

The stretch from St Gervais to Les Contamines looks fairly tame on the profile, but it has a fair number of short steepish climbs.  My strategy was to “work” the route, running when it made sense, taking the hard parts steadily but not too hard.  It did seem to take a long time, and I was seeing a little carnage along the way.  The transition to night seemed to darken the mood too.  I managed to emerge at Les Contamines at 3 ¾ hrs in good shape, headlamp shining.  The town was lively, although nothing like St Gervais.  I only spent a couple of minutes in the aid station, my mindset all business.

Down to Business (31-50k)

I was now on Terra Cognita, having recce’d this part of the course a few days earlier.  The route works its way up a broad valley, ultimately climbing about 1500m to the Col du Bonhomme (39k).  I was glad to have seen this during the day, because it’s a beautiful place.  From Les Contamines the climbing is very gradual, but it gets serious after Notre Dame de la Gorge, where the last casual spectators would be for a long while.  Because I knew what to expect, I was able to pace myself well. 

Climb to La Balme, a few days before the race.

The next aid at La Balme Refuge was welcome, and I imbibed soup, cheese, crackers, a banana, and probably some other stuff.  I think I snuck a little pepsi too.  Here I realized I’d lost my collapsible cup (required gear for use with drinks).  For penance, I insisted on drinking beverages (=pepsi) out of my finished soup bowl, which got some strange looks.  I was surprised to find we were only 5 hours in.  (I'd decided against wearing a watch, figuring it was extra weight and I could check the phone if I really needed to.)
I left La Balme in high spirits.  Maybe the rain tapering off had something to do with it.  The route ahead was outlined by a string of headlamps working their way well above, and looking back I could see even more lights strung out all the way into the forest near the valley bottom.  It’s hard to convey this effect, maybe like being part of some infinite slithering snake.  It’s one of the highlights for sure. 

I was starting to feel a bit of cramping in my feet, the kind of thing that often disappears but you don’t want to ignore it.  The feet seemed happier if I took quicker, shorter steps on the climbs.  After an hour of steady climbing, I reached the Col Bonhomme at 6 hrs, and 20 more minutes got me to the summit checkpoint at Croix du Bonhomme.  There are two kinds of UTMB checkpoints: the aid stations (generally down in the valleys) had timing mats, while each summit (cols and so on) had a person with a wand to read our bibs.

I knew the next 1000m descent would be steep and tricky, and was again glad to be familiar with the terrain.  In training I’ve been working on making my way down technical stuff efficiently, like “dancing” down the mountain.  Besides minimizing wear and tear, I have a lot more fun with the run this way.  I have not historically been the fastest downhiller, but found myself overtaking people on this stretch.  Lately I've been using a new headlamp trick of wearing one at the waist.  This works great in fog/mist (think fog lights), and also brings out relief of features in the trail.  Since we're required to have a spare light, I figured I might as well wear one on the head too.  For slow sections (uphills) I would just use the upper lamp, and used both for the wild descents such as this one.

I cruised into the charming Chapieux and its aid station 7 hours into the race (a little after midnight), welcomed with enthusiastic cheers from a few onlookers.  Here all runners were subjected to a bag check.  Reasonably, the man asked to see pieces rain gear.  But then he looked up at me with concern and said “la puce?”.  My French is not great, and I certainly didn’t know what a puce is.  I proffered various items I thought might appease – my phone, gloves, passport, bandage, etc.  This didn’t assuage him, and he called over the supervisor.  I finally realized “la puce” is a card/chip that was attached to my pack with a tiny cable tie at registration.  To my horror, it was missing!  After much gesturing and attempted explanations, the supervisor took pity and let me through.  I wasn’t sure if I would be eventually penalized or not, and for a while the thought would periodically bubble up that I might be DQ’ed, or whatever, and it wasn’t fair because I didn’t do anything wrong, etc.  (Spoiler – nothing came of it.) 

Anyway, back at the aid station, I stocked up on food, water, and a sip of Pepsi, and off I went.

Through the night (50-77k)

Vallee des Glaciers, a few days before the race.

After Chapieux the route follows a few km of paved road up into Vallee des Glaciers.  I could have run more of this, but took a little extra time to munch and digest.  While there are not many glaciers anymore, this verdant valley is quite beautiful.  In the middle of the night, I had the benefit of memories from my recce a few days earlier to fill in the scenery.  The rain was gone by now, and the night had become very pleasant.  The road transitioned to trail and the climb to Col de la Seigne began in earnest.   The total climb from Chapieux is not quite 1000m, most of it after this point.  I think I passed a few “runners” along here, so I guess I was in a groove.  Again, headlamps strung out far above me, and for miles below.  I pretty much motored right reaching the Col in good shape, and stopped just long enough for the checkpoint.  The calm conditions were in total contrast to when I came through a few days earlier in the height of a major storm.

Descent to Courmayeur (taken a few days earlier).  For the race, this was late at night.

I made good time down the steep descent toward Lac Combal, and the subsequent flat sections.  (Apparently I gained 12 places in 5km.)  I had a quick stop at the aid station downing another soup, topping off the water, grabbing some pepsi, and off I went.  After another couple km of flat, there is one more 500m climb before the long descent into Courmayeur.  I went back and forth with some other runners during the climb, still feeling good.  This was where it finally started feeling like I was amidst runners of my average pace.  I glided down to Col Checrouit, where I’d stayed a few nights earlier.  I remembered the final descent to Courmayeur as steep and somewhat technical, so I tried to just relax and not do any damage.  I think I made great time, although a German dude Michael flew by.  As we spilled out into the very quiet streets of Courmayeur around 5:15am (11 ¾ hrs), I enjoyed the easy terrain and happily arrived at the major aid stop. 


Courmayeur (I think)

The Courmayeur stop was a strange place.  I was surprised to be handed my drop bag right away.  This was obviously well planned, but it had me running a couple hundred meters with a heavy bag into the building.  Once inside, I found an empty bench next to Michael and went to work.  Off came the wet stuff, on went the dry stuff, personal food replenished (gels, TrailButter, etc.), snatched the sunglasses and sunscreen, and spent a silly 5 minutes or so looking for my lost arm warmer (happened to be on my arm).  I decided to keep with the beefier Mountain Masochist shoes (vs. the Bajadas) which were still a bit damp but were really working for me.  The sock change was a no-brainer.  Once reassembled, I couldn’t figure out where to go.  Where to put the drop bag?  Where’s my pasta dinner?  Finally someone directed us upstairs where we found the pasta layout, but we needed to wait a few minutes for them to cook the next batch (?).  Meanwhile it was finally explained that the bags get deposited outside, so I went to dump mine there while waiting for the pasta.  Only to be yelled at, because they feared I would trip the timing mat and all would be ruined!  Whatever.  Back inside, the pasta finally ready, I scarfed a bowl, topped off the water, and Michael and I finally escaped at 6:00am.  Even then, we got outside and found – no markers!  Finally asked a roving volunteer to set us in the right direction.  My opinion – the Courmayeur aid station could really use some signs or alert volunteers. 

Back in the daylight (77-100k)

I did not plan splits much, but I figured a 30 hour finish (my “A” goal) would be consistent with about 12.5 hours at Courmayeur (it’s not quite halfway).  So leaving Courmayeur at 12.5 hours had me thinking that the 30 hour goal was certainly in reach.  Michael and I hiked and chatted our way up from Courmayeur, not pushing too much so as to digest.  It was maybe half an hour before he pushed ahead.  I hit the next aid station at Refuge Bertone right after sunrise, and was rewarded with fantastic views across the Vallee d’Aosta to the Mt Blanc Massif.
 

Sunrise near Bertone

A little past Bertone

This was a great stretch of the course – the terrain was rolling for the next 10k or so, a rare opportunity to make good time.  While my pace was good, I kept stopping for photos, and then for a herd of cattle with scary sharp horns using the trail!  One cow was so close I felt her hot breath on my arm.

Hot-breath sharp-horned cows.

I was starting to notice some soreness in my back.  I worked on using better posture, and tried using better downhill technique to limit impact.  I did not want core structural problems to develop.  The shortish descent to Arnuva was steep, and it was hard not to feel pounded.  The Arnuva aid station, like the others, made me feel like a rock star again, but I didn’t want to dally while I was moving well.

After the Arnuva stop, there is a solid 750m climb up to the Swiss border at Grand Col du Ferret.  At some point, I passed by a racer named Michael who had sat down, enjoying the view, saying quite clearly “good job, man”.  Well, it wasn’t until I was well past him that it registered he was American.  I realized later that it was probably the intrepid Michael Wardian, who is obviously not afraid to try things far afield from his usual routine (like acing marathons).  It sure would have been nice to chat him up a bit.  The top of the Col was enshrouded in fog, which for me was welcome because the day was starting to heat up. 

Climbing Grand Col du Ferret

Just before the summit.  Last view from Italy.

 

Onward through the fog (100k-124k)



Entering Switzerland

Now in Switzerland, I knew there was a long descent to the next aid.  Research showed this to be a long stretch between aid, but today I forgot to fill the extra bottle at Arnuva.  Fortunately 1L was just enough.  The descent to La Fouly seemed awfully long, but in retrospect it might have been one of my strongest sections.  Somehow I jumped from 133^rd to 115th in just over an hour.  I was going through head games, just really wanting La Fouly to be there.  “It must be down in that little valley” (nope), or “I can hear the spectators’ cowbells” (it was cows, actually).  Sometimes I get in these time warps where progress seems way too slow, even though my pace is ok.  When I finally got to La Fouly, I spent only a few minutes to restock, wanting to keep the momentum.

The next stretch to Champex-Lac was one of my lower moments.  By now the sun was out in force, and I was feeling the effects.  I think I would have handled this stretch a lot better if I either knew what was coming or I just took it as it came.  Instead I was a little peeved that it wasn’t easier.  That said, this section goes through a huge valley lined with gorgeous towering mountains studded with imposing limestone cliffs, and it was hard not to be impressed.  I stopped to put sunscreen on.  I was aware that my calorie intake was behind, and now saw that my pee color was a little dark.  As I write this, I realize this new worry gave me something to focus on.  I worked on hydrating better, and tried to down some gels and Trail Butter.  The stomach was a bit queasy, though, and I’d already used up my 2 Rolaids (I might bring more next time).  The trail went down the valley for quite a ways, across rolling terrain that was often rocky and hard to get into a rhythm.  I started psyching myself out with thoughts of “do you realize how much is still ahead?”.  Basically, what was ahead was the challenging OCC race run the day before, which is 54k and 3000m+ climbing, which didn’t seem that straightforward after almost 20 hours of hard running. 

After what seemed a long time, the trail dropped into the valley bottom at a small hamlet, which I very much hoped was the next aid station (nope).  Then it crossed back and began an honest climb for about 300m to Champex-Lac, where the aid station really was.  Along this “when will this ever end” section, I was suddenly delighted to meet the Irish ladies I’d befriended during the recce a few days earlier.  It was such a lift to have my own personal cheering squad in the middle of nowhere, when I needed it most.  The icing on the cake was a spring water source that I delved into with gusto, as I had just emptied my supply.  A confession- I’m not a very “social” person, and am used to going solo.  But encounters like these remind me that, even as a serious introvert, family and friends (however new) make a huge difference in my life.  After a brief chat with the ladies and with buoyed spirits I finished the climb to the aid station.

In the groove (124-156km)

Champex-Lac is one of the “major” stops, with plenty of soup, snacks, and where runners can meet their crew (for those fortunate enough).  I took 25 minutes take care of things and put myself back together, time well spent.  At 20 ½ hrs, I left the aid station and after a bit of bewilderment looking for the right way found the path through town.  Champex-Lac is a beautiful resort town nestled in a large hanging valley with a crystal blue lake as the centerpiece.  Many visitors must be tempted to jump in those crystalline waters.  My goals were different than its guests, however, and I wasn’t in my element until I was back on the trail for a few km.  It sounds weird, but it was powerhiking the next big climb that finally got me back into the rhythm.  By this point in the race, I was pretty much holding my place.  Generally, I would get passed by a few on the climbs, then pass back on the downs.  This surprised me, because I’m not the fastest descender, but I suppose some runners were probably having their quads blow up by now. 

Focused, somewhere

UTMB infamously finishes with three steep climbs and descents, and I had mentally prepared for that.  The first climb to Bovine was lonely, very few other runners and nobody else.  First working up a steep valley, I then crossed the ridge into a meadow where, once again, there were lots of cows.  There was some trail reroute that I think I botched, so I wound up trudging through thick muck past the cows and a farmhouse.  This was not so bad, just a little disorienting.  After the meadow, the climb finally finished across a second ridge (and checkpoint), so it was downhill pretty much all the way to Trient.  I managed to keep moving all the way down (i.e. “running”), even though it seemed to go longer than it “should” in another time warp. 
 

I have to say, it was really fun coming through each village – people were out in force, cheering on all runners regardless of nationality (or mood!).  I never got used to complete strangers yelling “Go, Rick!” (yes, they often switched to English when they saw the American flag).  But I was to get an added boost in Trient – more folks from my recce a few days ago!  This time, it was some of the folks from the “Chicago 12”.  They cheered me into the aid station, where I had singular purpose.  Somewhere this afternoon, I got to feeling that I should get in and out of aid stations more quickly (but still doing what needed to be done).  While I was chugging soup and a few snacks, the announcer on the PA was excitedly saying I was runner #100.  What?  I hadn’t expected to do that well, and really had no clue what place I was in.  While I wasn’t trying to be top 100, this revelation was a tremendous ego boost.  I responded with some kind of victory wave or something.  I realized I must be having a great day, this was going to happen.   (Meanwhile, anybody following me would know exactly my times and place at each checkpoint.)  Just two more mountains – I wanted to get it done.

The Chicago folks were still there to offer support heading out, even asking if I needed anything!  A very welcome emotional boost.  The next climb was much like the last.  Again a few folks passed me on the way up, though I was happy with my pace.  A bit of rare rolling terrain at the top brought me to the Catogne checkpoint at the summit.  Not much to say about the descent, except that it felt longer than I thought it should be, mind games again.  I don’t remember passing many going down, but somehow I arrived in Vallorcine in pretty much the same place as Trient.  I figure that a few runners were probably lingering longer than me in the aid stations.  I apparently stayed about 8 minutes in the aid station, although it seemed like 2.  Guess I wanted to make sure I had enough for the final push.  Around 26 hours into the race, I was heading out of Vallorcine.

I did leave Vallorcine aggressively.  There was a runnable section up to Col des Montets before the major climb, and I took advantage of it.  After Montets, there is a ruthless climb up to Tete aux Vents, the final summit.  This had me in a pretty good mood, and it didn’t matter that a couple of guys passed me.  Darkness fell, and out came the headlamps (further into the race then I ever hoped for).  After a lot of solid climbing, the steepness eased but the climb still continued over rugged rocky terrain until at last topping out at the checkpoint. 

Final tribulation (156-168k)

This section gets disproportionate attention because it will stick with me more than any other.  I expected the first part of the final descent to be runnable moderate downhill for 3k to La Flegere.  It turned out to be very technical and bouldery, with lots of hopping, scrambling, and toe stubbing.  It did not help that much of the ground between boulders was muddy, making the footing on rocks slippery.  Naturally I was getting pretty pissed about how unfair this was (never mind that everyone else had exactly the same challenge).  My mental groove was derailed.  This is how it goes with these hundred milers – one section you’re on cloud nine, the next you’re in cellar.  Fortunately, it was around here that I started chatting with the energetic Aussie runner Tegyn, who commiserated appropriately without magnifying my negativity.  After maybe the 10^th major toe-stub, I was actually yelling at myself to get my shit together and not do that anymore dammit (I’ll leave some of the language to the imagination).  We could see the bright lights at the La Flegere checkpoint, but as we got closer it was clear that we would have to climb up to it!  This was too much – a 50m climb, when we’re supposed to be on our last descent?  It’s not fair!  Or, at least it’s not effective trail layout.  Got to blame someone, right?  I’d also been getting this idea that I could beat my 30 hour goal, but the technical section had me wondering if I’d make it.

Well, we somehow managed the final 50m climb and made the checkpoint.  I was completely surprised by a fairly well-stocked aid station in the tent, which as far as I know was not promised.  I dumbly stared around not knowing where to go, then finally got shown out the back door.  No time to waste with 8km 1000m descent of unknown difficulty, with 77 minutes left (yeah, I was pretty focused on 30 hours by now).  With Tegyn leading the way, I went to work.  The first few km were steep but not too technical, mostly on the very rough gravel roads of a ski area.  While the pace was not great, at least we were moving again.  I gave up on any estimate of distance after the discouragement of the last section, so I started fixating on the twinkly lights of Chamonix far below.  This idea was no better, as the lights still seemed just as far away after a lot of pounding.  The grade eased, and there was nothing to do but keep running.  Tegyn and I passed a couple of runners on this descent who must have been in even more pain than us.  Then suddenly the lights weren’t so far away, and we started seeing signs of civilization.  The road got smoother, a few parking areas, a building or two, then pavement!  I still didn’t know how much was left, but by now the momentum was established and it was like we were on a conveyer belt.  As we rounded the turn parallel to the river, it was obvious we’d run this in together. 

Blazing across the finish

Tegyn remarked that we were pulling 5:15 per km (low 8 minute miles)!  This is not normally considered a sprint pace, but it was for us.  It was a ridiculous way to finish, really, but not a conscious decision.  Even at 11pm, there were hundreds maybe thousands of people cheering runners in, far more than I’ve ever seen in all my trail races day or night.  This really is a glorious scene with lots of fanfare.  We were chasing no one, being chased by no one, but we kept hammering through the final turns in central Chamonix and crossed the finish line in style in 29:41.  Tied for 98^th place, 4^th in age group. 

It took me awhile to stabilize after that silly finish.  I eventually headed over to join other zombies for the free dinner and showers offered by the race, then finally stumbled my way to the hostel where I’d reserved a bunk in case of a strong finish and slept quite soundly.

I couldn’t have asked for a smoother race.  I was lucky to have great training terrain where I live (Columbia Gorge, Mt Hood).  I am also blessed with great training partners.  My training volume was higher than I’ve ever done, and not so much that I was burnt out.  In a sense, UTMB was a 1400 mile race that started in March, because since then pretty much all of my running and hiking (and dreaming) has been about UTMB.  5000 miles if you add in qualifying races.  I'm still sorting out the psychic aspects; I’ll save those for another post.

Gear:

Montrail Mountain Masochist (good choice for the conditions)

Injinji socks

Salomon Slab-12 pack, w/ 3x500mL collapsible bottles.

BD Ultra-Distance poles (first race with poles, really glad I had them)

Headlamps: Petzl Myo Rxp (worn at waist) & BD storm (on head)

Adam Hewey’s account:   http://cascadiadam.blogspot.com/2014/09/utmb-2014.html

 

UTMB training

Obviously UTMB calls for some serious training.  My approach may be a little unconventional.  I start with the broad view that I need to get used to what I will encounter during the race.  The elements include-

1.       Endurance (duh). 

2.       Steep grades - average grade = 18km/168km = 11%

3.       Technical terrain - rocky, slippery

4.       Loaded running pack – required gear for self-sufficiency and safety

5.       Thinner air - 1000-2500m altitude

6.       No pacing (and no crew for many of us)

7.       Different food – aid stations have bread, cheese, salami, and fruit but not the GU’s and stuff we Americans are used to

8.       Lots of night running.  Race starts at 5:30pm!

9.       Mountain weather.  Anything could happen.

10.   English is not the main language.

As I type this, I’m getting worried again!  So let’s break it down.

For the couple of previous hundreds I've done, a gradual ramp up in training over 5-6 months, peaking about 60-65 miles per week worked well.  I felt burnout was not too far off, partly because of hard efforts in races along the way.  UTMB called for tougher training, so I took a careful approach trying to find the fine line between under- and over-training. 

Winter - Foundation:. Stay in running shape, minimal stress.  I lay low until early spring, usually just running ~30 miles/week.  My body needs a bit of easy time to recover from a good season.

Spring - Ramping up.  Around April, I started increasing the effort.  The mileage increased to ~40 mpw, and weekly I sought steeper terrain than usual.  This included less popular steep routes in Forest Park, and driving to the Gorge when possible.  There’s no motivator like making training itself fun and adventurous.  I’m lucky to live near hundreds of miles of fantastic technical and steep trails.  I avoided long races, but I entered a few short events to throw in a bit of speed work.

Summer - Peak: I’ve worked up to 75 mpw.  My longest run was the 60 mile Trans-Gorge adventure on Solstice.  On a family trip to Colorado, I got some sweet high-altitude runs in (up to 3800m!).  I added a couple of 40m runs around Mt Hood (one each direction), terrain which is (I’m hoping) similar to that on Mt. Blanc.  I’ve been getting got some good power-hiking practice and familiarity with my new running poles. 

 

Along the way, I've worked on downhill efficiency, a "forever" jog, and relaxation.  In short, I'm happy with the training I've done; should take care of items 1-6.

Along the way, I’ve made a point of eating more “slow food” than GU’s and such.  My favorites have been turkey avocado sandwiches, Amy’s frozen burritos, Trail Butter <link>, cheese, and crackers.  This is not quite the bread/cheese/salami that I’ll find in Europe, but it’s getting there.  I’ve come to realize that I need to take in a few more calories on the run, based on recovery issues.  I think 250 kcal/hour is about right for me.  With luck, that takes care of 7.

I haven’t worried too much about conditioning myself to running in the dark, but I've snuck in a few night runs.  I’m going to approach the race by having a good light (and a good spare).  I’ve experimented with wearing my MYO RXP light at the waist, which works better in fog and shows the rocks and roots better.  #8 done.

Weather.  Unfortunately, the weather this summer in Oregon has been sunny and warm, so no cold/wet conditioning for me.  I’m counting on the extensive compulsory gear list to save me when the mountains turn mean (and I assume they will).  Hopefully a good mindset will get me through #9.

I took French in high school.  I was not a good student.  Later, I took German, which overwrote most of the few brain cells I had capable of foreign language.  When I try to say something in French, it sometimes comes out in German.  If anything comes out at all.  So I expect communication to often be reduced to grunting and hand gestures, in the grand tradition of adventurous travelers everywhere.  It would have been nice to brush up on my French, but I spent all my spare time running, and besides what if I need to go to Germany next? 

With 6 days to go, I'm in the middle of the Taper.  My first taper run was a 27 mile Gorge loop last week with Phil (Eagle-Tanner) that intimidated me just a few years ago.  Now with just a week to go, I’m down to shorter runs and some power hiking on my hilly neighborhood trails.  When I get to Chamonix 5 days before the race, I will do a 3-day hut hike along a part of the course that will be dark on race day.  That way I can familiarize, see those sights, and try to keep loose without taxing my body.  I might even jog a few spots!  I’m really looking forward to this part, which will be the best opportunity to soak in the landscape.  The final 2 days prior will be hanging out near Chamonix in a B&B, checking in, looking for friends old and new (mostly new).  Chamonix becomes a non-stop party this week, with other races happening and thousands of runners and associates packing the place.  It will be hard to avoid getting amped!

 

Allez, allez!

 

 

Trans-gorge solstice run

For Solstice, I decided to treat myself to my longest training run in preparation for UTMB in late August.  And for some time I’ve had my eyes on a fantastic route transiting the Columbia Gorge from Mt Defiance on the east side to Angel’s Rest on the west.  The so-called Trans-Gorge idea came from a group of fellow trail runners (of course) who ran a similar route a few years ago.  Thanks for inspiring me, guys!  My adventure became a quest to link up my favorite spots in the Gorge (on the Oregon side) on the longest day of the year.  I really enjoy group runs of all lengths, but I kept pretty quiet about this one.

 

My route in blue

The basic idea for “Trans-Gorge” is to use the more remote interior trails of a vast network of trails through some of the most unspoiled wilderness around.  There are excellent viewpoints, beautiful foliage, pristine streams, lots of critters, and solitude.  But with these come challenges of steep, difficult-to-follow and overgrown trails, not to mention 60ish miles.  I’m not the first to do this, but it is seldom done even as a backpack let alone a day trip, and it seems that each attempt has a different spin.  Also there is a proposal in the works for the Mark Hatfield Trail, but the Eagle basin section doesn’t even exist yet (and is actually in the Bull Run Watershed and “off limits”), plus that route skips Mt. Chinidere (one of my favorite summits) and terminates at the ultra-popular Multnomah Falls, missing out on Devil’s and Angel’s Rests further west.  In the end, I settled on the endpoints of the trail system, and peakbagger that I am resolved to bag the important (to me) summits: Mt Defiance, Green Point Mtn, side trails up Chinidere, Tanner Butte and Nesmith Pt, Larch Mtn, Devil’s Rest and Angel’s Rest.  There are also countless lakes, ponds and streams of all sizes thrown in.  My variation is 60+ Gorge miles and 16,000’ ascent, or thereabouts (you know what I mean if you’re a Gorge adventurer).  This would be my longest unsupported run ever.

Once I decided on Solstice, I got to thinking that gee maybe I could do it all by daylight.  Sunrisesunset.com assured there would be about 17 hours of daylight.  Well, let’s see how it goes.

The start

Hitting the trail at first light (~4:30ish) meant waking up at 2:30 a.m.  I dropped my car at the Angel’s Rest Trailhead (near Bridal Veil Falls), where my awesome pal Phil picked me up and drove us to the Mt Defiance (Starvation Creek) Trailhead.  By 4:40am, morning’s glow had come and we were on our way.  I was lucky to have Phil join me for the first 13-14 miles. 

The front side of Defiance is a popular Gorge testpiece, yet it was my first time.  Nothing like starting a run with a 2+ hour steep hike.  On top around 7:00am and right on schedule, we had a decent view (albeit marred by shacks and antennas). Running down the backside of Defiance was our first chance to hit our stride. 

From Mt Defiance

Looking north from Chinidere

We rolled past North Lake hurdling downed logs and cracking awful jokes.  We climbed over Green Point Mtn, which has a surprisingly sweet view from the top of a bluff.  Onward toward Mt Chinidere we took the Rainy-Wahtum trail, an old forest track following a ridge with stretches of open views.  The final scramble up Chinidere is fun, and the summit opens up completely just before the top.  The 360 view is fantastic, and we could see Mt Hood (of course), Mt Jefferson, Ollalie Butte, Mt Adams, Mt St Helens, Mt Rainier, and of course all the local hills.  I could have stayed there for hours, but not today.  After a few minutes of eating, sipping, and an “I’m alright so far” text home, I parted ways with Phil at 9am and continued west. 

The 7 mile descent to Eagle Creek was some of the most runnable terrain of the entire route, taking me just over an hour.  But the pace quickly changed when I turned onto the obscure Eagle-Tanner cutoff.  After a mile or so of weaving through Oregon grape and such, the trail fords Eagle Creek.  I startled some guys camping creekside when I splashed across without hesitation and scampered up out of sight on the far side.  After a quick sock squeeze and a few gobs of Trail Butter, I settled in to the long 3000’ climb up Tanner Butte. 

This is a really nice section of trail, just used enough to follow, and only somewhat overgrown.  Gaining the ridge south of Tanner, the trail joins an abandoned jeep road toward the summit.  Finally, I scrambled ½ mile up an unofficial path to the peak proper.  High noon, and about 28 miles so far.  What a view!  And for a summit almost 10 miles from the nearest trailhead, I was surprised to see maybe several hikers on or near the summit.  I was still feeling strong but some general aches were starting to make themselves known.  I decided to treat myself to a 10 minute break (which may have stretched a little longer) to eat, drink, air my feet, etc. 

Cryptic trail sign at Tanner Cr

While the Tanner climb was challenging, the real fun was still to come.  After about 3 miles of working down the mellow Tanner Ridge through bear grass and pine forest, my route took a sharp left onto the notorious Tanner Cutoff straight down to Tanner Creek.  This trail is hardly ever used, usually by backpackers traversing the interior.  Fortunately for me the trail has seen some TLC in the last few years, and while it was rough with lots of obstacles, it wasn’t hard to follow.  More challenging was the Tanner Creek trail up to the ford.  This little gem claims to be only 0.9 mile but probably took me over 20 minutes of thrashing through brambles and countless creek crossings.  This section mercifully ends at the ford, where the equally obscure Moffett Creek Trail starts.  I was surprised to run into one of the Gorge’s Guardian Angels, one of those guys who just happens to pack loppers with him in case a trail needs some TLC.  He was the only one I shared my plans with, because I think he was the only one who would comprehend.  Sir, thank you for your stewardship.

Digested trail sign

I knew the Moffett Creek climb would be long, so settled into a steady hike.  In fact I took a little off the pace so I could consume a delicious Amy’s burrito while walking.  The trail was covered in thick moss (remember it sees very little traffic) and lots of big fat slugs.  Eventually the trail tops out at the Von Ahm rim, with striking views of Hood.  Once on the plateau, there are a couple miles of mostly runnable trail and some delicious water from McCord Creek before the moderate climb to Nesmith Pt.  I was still feeling good enough to run well, maybe not jumping the obstacles quite as exuberantly, and walking more of the uphills.  The Nesmith summit is not spectacular, but there is a nice view to one side.   I had actually considered skipping the actual Nesmith summit because the view is so-so, but as the highest point along the Gorge rim, it is a landmark so it made the cut.  Plus it has cell coverage, and the last place was 7 hours ago!  So at mile 41, Nesmith tagged, text sent, 5^th or 6^th lunch eaten, poles stashed, I continued on at 4pm. 

Old growth log

After a couple of miles of nice running and more log-jumping along the Nesmith rim (nice overlooks of the Gorge), and another couple miles heading into Bell Creek, I felt good about the pace.  But the Bell Creek Trail had other plans.  It traverses a vast primeval forest wetland at the headwaters of Oneonta Creek.  It is also miles from any trailhead, thwarting most day hikers.  Topping it off, the trail had the nastiest overgrowth and navigation I encountered all day.  Anybody near me would have heard a rich vocabulary of epithets, but I’m positive there was no one within 5 miles.  Well the birds heard it anyway.  I’m no stranger to bushwhacking, but these nettles were not fun.  The middle mile of this 3.3 mile segment took over 30 minutes.  This may not sound outrageous in a different context, but with 15 miles to go at dinnertime, it was a little frustrating. 

When I finally popped out, the connecting trails seemed like superhighways.  I half-ran/half-hiked the moderate climbs, using the poles to help.  And a few miles later, I reached the top of Larch Mtn.  This was a strange setting.  There were maybe 100 people there in the parking lot and at the overlook, mostly Russian, just hanging around.  I realized they were probably celebrating a beautiful solstice, but for me it was culture shock.  The overlook is a cramped affair, the size of a bedroom, so I picked a corner and shoveled a few calories in.  I must have looked and smelled awful to them (or anybody, for that matter).  Without a word and avoiding eye contact, I gratefully scurried off down the Larch Mtn trail around 6:30. 

The Larch trail is quite popular, but I was surprised to see a number of people strewn up and down, heading both ways.  What kind of fool would be out so late, miles from the road?  Oh, wait… 

Although sore, and with my right ankle feeling pretty bruised or something, I still kept a reasonable jog on this steady downhill section.  The ankle was sore enough that I favored certain cambers and would choose the line carefully.  The Larch Trail heads straight down to Multnomah Falls, but my variation had me adding Devil’s Rest and Angel’s Rest.  Besides, the car wasn’t at Multnomah Falls now, was it?  So I came to a crossroads (literally and figuratively) at Multnomah Basin Rd.  This is a dirt access road to the secretive Nesika Lodge.  It also serves as a shortcut to Devil’s Rest.  I thought about taking the single-track option, which dips lower before climbing Devil’s and adding a mile or so.  But by now my ankle was feeling beat up and I was smelling the barn (or was that my feet?).  So I hung a left, and headed up the road.  A purist might take the trail.  I hear it’s very nice (it is actually). 

The poles came out one last time to help me up the road, hiking almost the whole stretch.  As the road crested, I looked for the short cutoff to the Devil’s Rest Trail which follows the top of a very tall bluff.  I got antsy, and could see the rim backlit by the setting sun through the trees.  I wound up bushwhacking 100 yards to the trail, only to find the proper cutoff just yards beyond!  Of course.  By this time any significant climb was hiked, and so I walked up the final climb to Devil’s Rest.  Now Devil’s isn’t a summit with a real view, but it’s an interesting summit.  There are a bunch of rocks to scramble on, and weird artifacts have been known to appear and disappear.  What appeared this evening were cryptic messages in the dirt, and what disappeared was one of my gels with 100g caffeine. 

View from Angel's Rest

At this point, I knew I could reach the car before dark.  I was still be able to run (albeit slowly) down the beautiful descent from Devil’s to Angel’s Rest.  Angel’s is not really a summit, but a promontory with a fantastic view of the Gorge.  Several dozen people were up there to catch the sunset.  I thought about hanging out too, but getting to the car seemed more important.  The last stretch from Angel’s down is  not my favorite trail.  When I’m fresh, I can handle the rocky and technical aspect, but it’s generally packed with all manner of people and pets and so the running is much interrupted.  Now the people were few, but my legs were getting iffy so I gingerly worked my way down at a slow jog.  My daylight analysis assumed at least ½ hour after sunset for usable light, like civil twilight.  But if you’re in a thick forest, it gets pretty uncivil a few minutes after sunset.  Thankful for not choosing longer variations, I reached the car in one piece at 9:08, feeling pretty badass.  A quick call home, then I hit the road while cracking open lukewarm cans of V8 and Coke.

The finish

I’m so lucky to have a loving wife who gives me the freedom to work these things through my system.  I’m also indebted to Phil for enabling the logistics, and to my fellow runners (Yassine, Joe, Nick, Willie, etc.) who helped plant the notion in my head.

 Stats:

~61 miles
~16k’ total ascent
16.5 hours
Consumed 3300kcal, 8-9L water, 4 S-caps.

Gear List:

-          Salomon S-lab 12 running pack

-          BD Ultradistance Poles (Minus left wrist strap which broke off previously)

-          2 quarts water capacity (including front collapsible water bottles that come with pack)

-          Buff

-      Maps

-          I-phone

-          Pedometer (don’t ask)

-          Just in case: Rain shell, wool sleeves balaclava, emergency blanket, first aid kit, headlamp

Food:

-          Amy’s burrito (yum)

-          Turkey/avocado on rye

-          Turkey/avocado on wheat

-          Trail Butter, Maple!

-          2 ProBars (350 kcal each)

-          6 gels, non-caffeine

-          3 gels, caffeine (not used)

-          1 PowerGel, 2x caffeine, Orange, magical

-          1 Hammer bar (not used)

-          hunk of Fontina

-          Ritz crackers

-          S-caps and Nuun

-          Jerky (not used)

Note to self: next time bring gummi bears.