Carl's trip to the Pacific

2012

2012-02-07T12:32:00.000-08:00

a bunch of inspiring stuff going on out in the world right now.

maybe even some foolishness?

here's some very worthwhile thought provocation about how we spend our lives.

anyway,

between ultrabrad spreading his inspiration, and matty-two-shoes giving us the usual good stuff from the woods, i've been thinking i need to write some stuff down.

first, my athletic goal this year remains the barkley, and running's been going pretty well so far this season.

november and december saw some decent miles and then from new years eve thru january i managed a good long run at least once a week, and even finished them all feeling strong.

ALTAR - 30 miles 8,000'

AT SPECIAL - 23 miles 3,000'

FH SPECIAL - 18 miles 8,500'

SULTAN BDAY - 33 miles 6,600'

MTNMIST - 38 miles 3,000'

all with solid miles in between.

February is the big month where successful frames are built on those solid foundations. I've mulled over quantifying the training.....not my usual preference, but i can't deny that numbers are incredibly motivating.

So, February i'm shooting for 400 miles and 100,000' of elevation gain.

I get an extra day to put that in since it's leap year, but i don't think i've ever managed 400 miles in a month before. (maybe after vol state a few years ago, but not sure about that)

"week 1" has been good.

Feb.

1st - 10.0 mi w/ 1,750' at Paris Mountain.

2/3rd - 36.0 mi w/ 13,000' at Frozen Head.

4th - 18.0 mi w/ 6,600' at Frozen Head.

5th - 8.0 mi w/ 1,400' at Paris Mountain.

6th - 4.5 mi w/ 400' at Lake Oglethorpe.

7th - 17.0 mi w/ 850' on the Blacksnake Loop.

totals for week 1 are: 93.5 miles with 24,000'

solid, and i felt fluid and smooth tonight so it's at least semi-sustainable.

lots of frusciante on the ipod these days...

life at 16mph

2011-08-21T20:52:00.000-07:00

barkley11

2011-04-05T19:51:00.000-07:00

i really put alot of effort into preparing for barkley this year.

hearing the conch at midnight wasn't a complete surprise, but i definitely wasn't pumped about it.
adaptability means making the best of whatever hand is dealt....no point in doing anything other than adapting!

loop 1 went basically perfectly, i had a few minutes of concern during the hailstorm, but that ended up not being a problem.
coming down from chimney top, brett commented, "so, 5 loops seems doable."

obviously i, too, think 5 loops is doable, but i sure don't remember having that much confidence immediately upon finishing MY first loop back in '08 :)

leaving on loop 2 i decided to let brett and alan go ahead, so that i could go at my own pace rather than be influenced by these two guys who were moving so quickly with ease. it turned out that a nature stop allowed travis to catch me right at the top of bird mountain, and i think we were both fine with company. we nailed everything for the remainder of the loop, and after some discussion we decided to take 50 minutes to shower and rest before loop 3. i ended up being unable to fall asleep, and decided to let travis go ahead, but make sure i got the rest. when i got up after an additional 30 minutes i found that travis had decided to wait so we'd head out together.

loop 3 was definitely the toughest. travis was sleepy and i was plain fatigued. leaving at 11pm meant we had a long time to go before light. travis seemed a little more coherent and strong, but that may have just been my perception since i knew i was struggling. without going into too much detail, we botched hell, zipline, and the bad thing. the worst of these 3 was the bad thing, where i imagine we lost a solid 40 minutes.

after our third 15 minute nap of the loop, travis finally had to cut me loose while i struggled on rat jaw. when i sat down for a few minutes i downed a cheeseburger i found in my pack...that got my blood sugar up, and i was able to keep it up for another complete loop!

i charged up the rest of rat jaw, descended pighead (although i made another bad mistake here) and charged up meth lab. i was really cruising and then i looked at my watch and realized i could still get in under 36 and make a bid for 4+ loops. i never looked back. i ran down spectacle and caught travis. i was surprised and pleased that he immediately picked it up and i figured we'd both make the 36 hour cutoff, but i knew we couldn't lolligag. since the sun was up it was a little easier to focus and i just concentrated on hitting some calories near the bottom of each descent, not making navigation mistakes, and keeping the effort as high as i could.

i was interesting to have my brain needing to concentrate just to maintain normal function. a few times on the NBT i would have my head down and notice a rock and think, "man, i just saw that rock 5 minutes ago, did i turn around and start going CW without noticing?"
i tried to think ahead and make sure that if there were any trails junctions ahead i'd get past them without doing something stupid. i was confident in making the cutoff and heading back out, but i haven't had tons of experience with this much exhaustion, so i wanted to concentrate on maintenance. at bald knob i noticed travis wasn't behind me, but i assumed he'd just stopped to pee. by the time i reached phillips creek i had some worry in me about him, since we'd lost contact so long ago, i hoped he was close, but wasn't willing to miss 36 hours to wait and see how he was!

i ran the whole way down from bird mountain, i kept up my excitement coming in to camp. the "easy" button was a highlight - i smacked it with authority! i was moving easily, and really excited that at the very least i was going on loop 4. byron backer and i have been talking about this for 4 years, and finally one of us was going to do it.

my dad, scott b, my buddy james, and jb (maybe others too?) helped make a few decisions for me as i took a 15 minute break and waited to leave on loop 4. i assumed travis would come in a few minutes after me, and even thought blake had an outside chance of joining us, but with 8 minutes to go, everyone was rushing me out of camp. i didn't feel an urgent rush to leave, as i knew a little rest wasn't going to ruin me, and i was definitely going to accomplish all the tough navigation of the south section before it got dark.

i took off with 7ish minutes to spare, right after dad reminded me that, "ok, your goal is to finish this loop!"
honestly i wasn't even trying to wrap my head around anything in particular, i just wanted to get to the next book!
between camp and rat jaw i needed to lie down 3 times to let my brain rest, but when i was moving it was with purpose. the warm afternoon hit me a couple times, because i had left camp without my extra water bottle, one of my crew must have thought it was trash, because it wasn't in my pack anymore...whoops! i should have checked for it!

it took me 6:40 to get to the fire tower, if my memory serves me, which meant i had 5:20 to finish the loop....but on loop 3 i had crushed this portion of the course in daylight, and it took me almost 6 hours - i knew i couldn't make it. i also knew that i was going to need a serious nap when the sun went down....my plan was to get to the fire tower and hope there was someone there who could contact gary or my dad and let them know i would be several hours late finishing loop 4 and not to worry about me. as i neared the tower, i didn't hear any chattering, and got a little concerned. when i crested the lip, i saw that indeed there was no one there. i was pretty disappointed and sat there for a few minutes trying to think of another option that would keep the search parties from getting called out. i was hoping some random hiker would round the bend looking to catch the sunset from frozen head and i'd be able to hijack them into delivering my message, but no such luck. after 10 minutes, i realized that i could still be REALLY happy with my effort, and i should just forget about continuing. i headed down s old mac, running most of it feeling quite well.

what a weekend, thanks to all who made it so cool. it is quite a privilege to be a part of this community.

i had a hilarious laugh with james on the ride home when i realized i hadn't thought about sex in 3 days. when else does that happen?

barkley, the 5 loop libido killer!

catching up

2011-03-12T14:19:00.000-08:00

so, idaho was a great time.
2 weeks of crunching up and down the boise foothills was pretty tiring, but my hosts made it well worth the trek out west.

the day before i left i had an adventure running from boise to shafer butte and back...something i did during my visit a few years ago, but this time there was 3 feet of snow up there.

starting before sunrise, the hills were gorgeous. i quickly shed my tights and gained altitude to enter the snow zone. i wondered whether i'd meet the sun at the ridge, or if it would beat me there?
turns out i don't recall the exact moment when day broke, because i was just out cruising.

after several half mile long section with deep crusty snow, when i wondered if this trek was even possible in a single day, i made it to the ski slopes around noon. running on the groomed surfaces was such a treat, no worries about post-holing and pulling a muscle. i was even able to run effectively up the final grade above 7000' (which was a nice bonus for all this training), but ski patrol literally stopped me in my tracks 200 yards from the peak. apparently it's against insurance policy to travel uphill on the ski slopes. i got to run (escorted) down the ski mountain, and inhaled a cheeseburger and fries at the lodge, after which i headed down bogus basin road for 1 mile to connect back to the snowy ridge road.

a wrong turn soon thereafter led me down, down, down, and necessitated a cross country (off trail) ascent of the ridge.
what an adventure packed into 1500'!

as the afternoon receded into evening i arrived at 8th st extension and really brought the run home....8 miles all down hill as the sky was set off with every color of the rainbow. the day and the run and my mind were all in the "right place."

two weeks in boise meant a great deal to me, and i'll draw enthusiasm from my time and friends there for quite a while.

--------------

just 6 days later i went back at it in north georgia
the springer it forward (http://matthewkirk.blogspot.com/2011/03/springer-it-forward.html)
run went down yesterday, and was quite a success.
perhaps not in the traditional way, where you exceed your expectations and enjoy the adulation of the 6 people who care, but in the more fundamentally important way....the way where you are satisfied and happy.

pictures:
https://picasaweb.google.com/JamesMRudd/CarlGAATSpringerAhead?feat=email#

after working all day thursday and hurriedly packing up, i headed to springer mountain (with extra flashlight battery stop in dahlonega) and parked at 11:35...so much for a few moments of rest before going for 24 hours!

i set out immediately just to make it to the start by midnight.
boy o boy - the howling winds and snow were not what i had envisioned.
for 7 hours i glided through the dark woods, happy that i was out there, but spending precious energy buffering the cold and dealing with the extra muddy trails (luckily by midmorning the mud would all be ice)

popping out at neels gap before 8am, i was greeted by a couple enthusiastic buddies who would comfort me throughout the trek. jim ran 21 miles from neels to unicoi, and then later did the night shift from 9pm-1am finishing at the NC line. he was upbeat and enjoying his time in the mountains. james took the zombie patrol and walked behind me from unicoi to dicks creek...there's a reason this guy hangs out with me, and it ain't because he thinks i'm smart.
never the less, what a great friend to suffer through the freezing and thankless job of ushering me during the low times. thanks james.

as the sun sank, i saw two potentialities...
1. continue from dicks creek to NC, and probably miss my FKT by a few minutes, and be really uncomfortable...this option also sort of precluded continuing into NC, because the bailout points were very inconvenient for my buddies.
or 2. take a drive down the mountain, grab a meal and a hotel room for a 30 minute nap, and then return to the trail and shoot for a midnight finish at bly gap. i "liked" this option because it would allow me to experience the recooperation possible from a nap after 36 hours of going (a fair approximation of finishing the fun run and then taking a short rest before heading out onto loop 4 at barkley)....and it also made me summon some special motivation: to go down to a comfy hotel room and then willingly subject myself to another 4+ hours back on my feet in the middle of the night....well, let's just say i wasn't terribly excited about the feelings my muscles were going to experience.

in the end, the discipline was practiced, and success was achieved. we enjoyed a great day in a beautiful place, and i put a decent stamp on the barkley training for this year's even bigger success to come.

boise and better - day 1

2011-02-21T21:46:00.000-08:00

from day one of mountain trekking in idaho....2011. 24 miles up to the ridge and back. 5k' gain (not enough- but the post holing up to my thighs made it a workout...)

winter in wolfskin

2011-01-11T13:03:00.000-08:00

well, recent weekends in the nantahala and chattahoochee NF's, in conjunction with nearly 2 months without missing a day of running, have made for a great start to the winter....above: highlights from "blizzard 2011"

good stuff, continued

2010-08-23T10:57:00.000-07:00

unfortunately blogger is wreaking havoc on my computer skills. therfore these pics are in reverse order, and they precede the writeup....use your imagination.
at least the visual folks will be satisfied-

a day on hwy 1

foggy

come on!?!?

more eye candy

high sierra trail

on foot for once

at the start

house of prostitution.....nevada.

coming off the road at I-70

arches- moonscape

wilson arch, not in the park

this is what getting annihilated by a hail storm looks like 9 minutes before hand

prettier times in the hills....

pagosa:

rain and cold heading out of pagosa. a long trip looming.

things changed when i found out about a car ride to california. peter and brian are running the high sierra trail, and steph could use some company for the crewing. my dark thoughts about dust storms change to light hearted smiles about friends. i'll meet them in moab and get a free pass across the desert. doesn't hurt that i get to hang with some super cool folks that i can learn from!

hot and sunny by durango, replacing calories and a ripped tire.

phone call from brad smythe (leadville bound) brought joy in the afternoon.

the 15 minute talk meant, however, that i was still 15 minutes outside of cortez later when the hail storm attacked. ominous black clouds rolling east, just as i rolled west.

after getting annihilated i found an awning at the first available building and waited out the worst of it.

cortez offered food and a leaping off point for the evening's ride, but the a mechanical changed things a bit.

a bracket on the bicycle broke and instead of riding into the night to look for camp, i spent an hour in walmart fabricating a replacement. due to the late hour i opted for a cheap hotel room.

west to utah in the morning, i send post cards from yellow jacket, co. homage to the alma mater.

monticello offers a great meal of hummus and sprouts (once in a while i go without coke and candy...!)

the trek to moab sees dry heat yet again, and i guzzle the 55 miels worth of fluids i packed. wilson arch is really astounding, the red rock contrasted with the bright blue sky. i hike for a bit.

reaching moab i hustle to the information center and here about arches national park. the last minutes of the afternoon are whiled away waiting for a hitch across the "no bicycles allowed" bridge, with no knoweldge of the pedestrian bridge 300 yards away, over the colorado r.

i was livid after an hour and at least 50 empty pickup trucks passing me by.

after failed attempts to call police and sherrif's dispatch, a 911 call got me the requisite info:

police: "the main bridge over the colorado? there's a pedestrian bridge right behind you!"

me (thinking): "WTF! no one thought to annouce the pedestrian bridge with even a small sign!?!?!?!?!?"

me (outloud): ""wow, i wish there had been a sign, thanks for the info."

riding into arches park late afternoon, my emotions are dulled, and i enjoy the moonscape. so much of this trip is totally new to my eyes. as the sun sets i am still miles and miles from the park entrance, and i need to leave the park to camp (or do so illegally).

setting up a late night vantage point, i sit and contemplate balanced rock for a while.

next i head to the park headquarters and use my waterbottles and camp soap to wash off the road grime.

riding out of the park i consider an allnight trek to the interstate where peter and steph will pick me up in the morning, but i instead opt to roll back into moab and hit the denny's.

my hamburger is delicious after another 150 mile day....

around 1am i poach a campsite at an intown campground, and am out before 5:30am.

the ride up to the interstate is really nice. i get stopped by road construction for a bit and explain the trek to the flagger. she asks if i ever get tired of riding?

"umm, sometimes...."

cruising in to the interstate exit i talk the proprietor of the lone store into letting me hose/shower off out back, and bring myself back to socially acceptable standards of cleanliness.....almost.

soon enough the subi pulls up, and i am out of the elements.

the ensuing 12 hours bring me up to speed on the boulder community, and the recent FKT knowledge. steph works in the back seat while i am googly eyed over the western landscapes. utah, nevada, death valley, and finally the sierras. we land in lone pine, and find that brian has already secured whitney permits for the trek, and peter/brian must get to sleep immediately.

4am and we are in the car again, me dropping off the guys at the whitney portal. i drive back down to the motel amd fall asleep in the front seat, not even making it back to the room to nap for the couple hours i can afford.

at 7 i wake up and panic for a moment thinking i've overslept. up int he room steph is basically ready to go, and we hit the road. a 5+hr ride to sequoia park is what this crewing epic needs....

the drive is fun for the conversation, and we get to sequoia intime to get a last minute campsite, and head to crescent meadows to start our own trek.

the plan is to hike in until we meet the FKTers, and then try to keep up with them back to the car. 18 is but an estimate for the trek. after several hours of hiking we find a glorious granite hillside and waterfall. steph meditates while i explore the mountainside. the haze from several prescribed fires is obvious across the vale, but the expansive views of these mountains continuously blow my mind.

after an hour's diversion, we trek on, finally deciding a mile or two before bear claw meadow that if we go much farther the return run is going to be a monster itself. the whole hike back we hope the guys will catch us near the cars, but they don't. we end up sleeping until almost first light in the car.

upon arrival, peter and brian recount the serious altitude issues brian encountered, as well as the accidental off-route excursion in the early morning hours. still, sub 25 hours is a FKT for the high sierra trail, and the guys are happy. we go sleep in the almost unused campsite for several hours and then pack up for a trip to denny's in vesalia, ca.

a dip in a river on the way out of the park is a highlight.

once in vesalia my next travel plans must be decided upon. brian recommends that i ride with them to his house on the monterey peninsula, and then continue the bike trip. i am excited for the 1,890,560th time this adventure, and agree.

evening brings us to pacific grove, and i am exstatic that i can sleep at brian's place. peter and steph head to their retreat (their kindness in including me is so awesome), and i cozy up for a decent rest.

i miss my early alarm (which seems to happen at least every 3-4 days :) - and get to eat breakfast with friends....very nice. thank you brian and sophie!

i cast off into the misty pacific morning, with the pebble creek 17 mile drive and hwy 1 in the plans for the day.

can life get better?

of course pebble beach and carmel are pretty, but the day really starts as i head south towards big sur.

the spectacular mountains sea are ispiring and i crank all day. the pictures will speak for themselves.

i camp at morro state beach, after finding a quarter machine shower near the marina. arriving in camp after 11pm, the guard shack is empty and although the campground is full, i find a spot to set up.

before 5:30 i am on my way again into town, hawkeyed for breakfast.

the ride towards fresno kicks my butt all freaking day long. i am back in the dry heat, and there are some hills, but the headwind is a monster. 30, 40, 50, 60 miles.....into this wind...with the worst traffic thus far, hwy 41 is not a good choice. yikes!

dan calls and offers to deliver me from my sins by drving to lemoore and retrieving me. thank god, 110 miles in these conditions is as much as i want. the last miles are ridden in the backseat of the audi, like a visiting business man.....except the smell and coating of road grime.

up next: a return to sequoia?????????????? and yosemite.....

part 1 - nashville to pagosa springs

2010-08-15T14:09:00.000-07:00

so, after hanging out in bell buckle for a day, and enjoying a rest day with good company, i got a ride to the bus station in murfreesboro.

big mistake. i will not be recommending greyhound anytime soon.
i had 2 main reasons for choosing the bus.
1. i could buy my ticket last minute without a monstrous penalty.
2. i could know where my bike was at any given time, and be sure it wasn't being dropped off a forklift onto a runway.

these were smart reason, IMHO.

here are the reasons why i would negate the importance of these previously stated reasons:
a. on a plane from nashville to denver you might sit like a sardine for 3 hours- not 26 hours!
b. on a plane i feel it would be less likely to wake from your uncomfortable sleep at 2am to the dude next to you rubbing your leg.
c. did i mention the dude who was rubbing my leg while i tried to sleep?

- so, arriving in denver after an "interesting" 26 hours on the bus, i put my bicycle together in the parking garage of the greyhound station and pedaled off around 1pm.
leaving denver was uneventful, i kept the mountains on my right and headed south on the first main road i encountered.

i found out that my friend's aaron and leah now live in colorado springs, and since i got such a late start i was happy to find that they could accomodate me for the evening. the trek south from denver was notable for several reasons:
first, the headwind was ridiculously demoralizing. i was struggling mightily for 10mph on flat ground. i got off on a canal trail so that i didn't have to deal with the traffic AND the wind, but it was a let down to be trying so hard for such a slow pace.
second, the scenery was instantly inspiring, it's been several years since i was in CO, and the mountain views, and general wide-open-ness of the area were really refreshing.
third, around palmer lake i caught up to another cyclist, who turned out to be an interesting guy. he has survived some really extreme cancer operations, and now lives without most of his digestive system. we chatted for several miles before stopping for a beer. he drew me some directions for a convenient way into the springs, and we parted ways.

arriving at the kelly's house around 9:30, leah and i went out and filled me up on taco bell, catching up about work and life. it was a good time, but she had to be up early so the evening was short. when i got up i waited for aaron, who would be arriving home from the night shift at 8:30, and we met up with another college friend for a big breakfast at the village inn. good times.

this morning's late start was a little bit of a let down, heading out at 11am...but if you want fun social time you gotta pay the (time) penalty....it's worth it.

so, friday morning was another one of fighting the wind on my trip southwest. I had lined up a visit with the furtaws in pagosa springs for saturday evening, so i needed 265 miles or so in 2 days.

i managed to make it to canon city after an early afternoon of dealing with more rough winds, and was almost tuckered out. after a meal of food, i hit the road again and headed into big horn sheep canyon, along the arkansas river.

wow.

great stuff. you could take a picture a second through here and every one would be worth framing!

i jumped in the river at one of the may access points and felt instantly refreshed. gosh there is nothing like a cold river to make you feel alive.

i camped at about 10 miles east of salida, and then got up at 5am and road 165 miles to pagosa springs....two mountain passes (9,000 and 10,800 feet) and arrived last night at 9 pm. that was a really long ride. crossing over the continental divide at mile 150-ish of a day long trek is pretty "special" (read: exhausting) good stuff. today i was dragged into taking a day off with the furtaws (ok, so i was easily convinced!) - a 5 mile walk this morning showed my legs as ok, and pizza and beer at the brewery tonight should get me ready to push on tomorrow.

(reminder to fill in more details about the salida->pagosa springs trek)

next to the canal path south of littleton, co

san luis valley, co

necessary evils?

arkansas river valley

arkansas river

no comment

a long day

prologue

2010-08-10T12:58:00.000-07:00

in bell buckle for a day off, after just one day on the road!

the prologue consisted of a serious bicycle trek.
my 6am sunday morning start was delayed 8 hours due to the rush to get all my work out, and actually pack. 3am sunday saw me finally go to sleep, with a few more hours of computer work to do sunday.

with a 2pm start, 290 miles to the cantrell's in TN no longer seemed like a 2 day option, but without the experience necessary to guess an ETA, i just started off into the hot sunday afternoon sun.

1am found me in calhoun, ga - and in need of some rest. i hit the motherlode when i found the hotel pool gate unlocked, and the shower house open! i got to feel clean and lay down on a lounge chair next to the pool for 3+ hours.
4am and i was done with resting...and took off into the cool morning, heading west through the chattahoochee national forest. later, when the sun came up the views of the ridges in the area were really nice. i struggled to navigate efficiently around chickamauga and lookout mountain, but found my way to hwy 41 and along the tennessee river.

at sullivan's bait shack i found three old codgers shooting the bull and having a beer (at 10am)...so of course it was miller time for me as well.
after 20 hours of sugar drinks the beer was really refreshing. i followed that with a jump in the river, where the current was much stronger than i'd guessed it would be.

the hilly last few miles to nickajack lake were another surprise, especially as the mercury steadily climbed.

i got a 2 liter mountain dew in halestown, and the attendant was vehement that murfreeboro was going to be a "hard haul."

god he was right!

climbing up from jasper i walked my bike for the first time ever. the short steep pitch about 3/4 miles from the top took me from the redline...to the gage bursting. as i traversed the mountain towards monteagle i continued down the path to dehydration, and in tracy city i was absolutely having an episode. i had a quart of chocolate milk and then started at my food for over an hour before i could take a bite. sure enough though, the miracle of recovery happened again, and i was back on my way.

plunging down from monteagle, i had another beer in hillsboro, and doused myself with cold water for the umpteenth time as the temperature finally started to fall (slightly).

the last 15 or so miles were really nice, the scenery through bedford and rutherford counties was inspiring.
just before i would have needed my headlamp, i arrived.

31 hours for 290 miles. lounge chair nap included.
i must have spent $35 on food and cold drinks!

this effort earned a day off, before i catch the bus to denver.
the good thing is, 200 mile days are now on the "doable" list.
even better, not having ridden the bike in several months, the legs actually got better as the ride went on.

check in again from CO.....!

part deux

2010-08-02T07:44:00.000-07:00

I want be a Southern Highlander when I grow up

2010-07-08T09:10:00.001-07:00

So I finally got to run across Georgia this past weekend.

The route I came up with is about 200 miles, and travels from the South Carolina border at the Chattooga river, to Castle Rock, GA – also the finish for the Vol State, which I finished several years ago (on my 3rd attempt).

In between the river and the rock, I chose miles that included US highway, State highway, rural county roads, gravel forest service roads, mountain trails, and even a powerline cut that was labeled as a road by google maps when I was doing my route research.

Last Friday, July 2, I drove to the Cohutta Wilderness - near Blue Ridge, GA – and left some provisions, a tent, sleeping bag, two jugs of water, some food and Gatorade off in the woods. This would be around 100 miles into the trek, and there were no services or motels within satisfactory distance in either direction. I then drove to the base of Brasstown Bald, Georgia’s highest mountain, and set out another similar buffet, this time just including a sleeping bag and bivy – this was about 42 miles in to the route. Then I drove on to the Chattooga river bridge, parked on the South Carolina side, and curled up for a night in the back of the van.

Around 1am, I was jarred awake by yelling, “LAW ENFORCEMENT – SIR, PLEASE STEP OUT OF THERE!!”
Seems sleeping in your vehicle at this trailhead is illegal. I complied with the officer’s request that I vacate the premises, drove 2 miles east and parked 200 yards down the first gravel road I came to. After first light, I woke up and rolled around, still tired, and not particularly excited to start the day just yet. At 8am I drove back to the trailhead, pulled on my waist pack, and locked the van door.

Crossing the bridge was a little daunting, would I have a rough day and wimp out from the challenge, hitch-hiking back to the car only to be disappointed? 200 miles is a long way. I decided I needed to come at this one with NO STRESS, letting the miles come as easily as possible, without any pressure for distance or speed.

I walked several miles up from the river, given the early morning, pack and full water bottles, and a tight Achilles, there was no reason to start running immediately. The mountains are beautiful and the clouds were cooperating by shielding me from the sun at least half of the time.

Cruising in to Clayton, GA on US HWY 76 – 8 miles in to the run, my mind and body were warming up for the task, and I realized I was getting off on the right foot by dissociating from the major task, and just letting the miles come. I had a biscuit at a small diner, and bought a little pocket knife at the local ACE hardware. Heading out of town I was looking forward to crossing over Lake Burton, and getting the first dunk in cool mountain water of the trek.

Hills were definitely the order of the morning, with each rise taking up to a few miles, and being followed by an equally long descent. Along the stretch between Clayton and the lake, I noticed that I was catching up to nearly stopped traffic in the west bound lane. When you’re on a multiday journey run, abnormalities like catching up to traffic on a big highway are some of the highlights of your day. I didn’t noticeably increase my pace, but my curiosity was piqued. I hoped that if I kept chugging along, I would catch those slow moving cars, and eventually get the payoff of learning what the heck was going on up there!?!?!!

Well, sure enough, a mile or so, and several bends in the road, later, I saw the culprit. There on the highway was a horse drawn wagon, with another rider on horseback just ahead of it. Finding out that I was sharing the road with other foot traffic made the diversion that much more interesting. I slightly increased the pace, looking forward to the interaction that the riders and I might share. While impatient duallies and other traffic took their chances speeding past the wagon when there was room, I diligently made my way down the road, finally drawing even with these folks, and asking, “How far y’all headed?” Well, they were surprised enough to see someone on foot out there, and we all broke in to a laugh. The man at the reigns issued a nice offer of a ride, but I declined. Later that afternoon I wished I hopped on for a bit, as I haven’t been in a horse drawn wagon since I was a kid…but at the time I was just thinking about my “unsupported” run.
I slowly pulled away from these fine folks, although they almost caught me when I entered a country store several miles down the road.

The next thing to look forward to was crossing over Lake Burton, and going for a swim. The temperature was rising, and the coolest mountain lake in Georgia was a welcome pit stop. I climbed down under the bridge and swam for a few minutes. Dropping the core temperature on a hot day gives some serious relief.

Climbing back out of this valley, I was really enjoying the trek. I realized that I have finally figured out how to journey run. It occurred to me that “this is the way it’s supposed to be.” Ever since I started solo intercity running, I’ve struggled with the difficulty of doing long runs of this nature. Usually the troubles were mostly due to a combination of trying to go far and fast, and not having the maturity to deal with disappointment and exhaustion. This run felt different. I was walking when I needed to, apportioning my energy, and really enjoying the moment. And I was also looking forward to a rendezvous I had set up. My buddy James was going to meet me at Dick’s Creek Gap, where my route turned from the highway onto the Appalachian Trail, and provide me some food and company for a few miles.

I was really blissful heading up to the gap, I sang aloud, and enjoyed the unpopulated National Forest that surrounded me. It was a very happy time.

When I arrived at the junction, I actually ended up waiting almost an hour for James, since he’d been caught in traffic leaving Atlanta, on his way up to meet me and then spend the weekend on the lake with his fiancé and family. I made it a point to not stress about the lost time. Stress wouldn’t help, and I was in the middle of a marathon stretch without a store, so I absolutely had to wait for him, whether I felt like resting or not. Just when I started to worry, James arrived, with 3 pbj’s, a half gallon of Gatorade and some fruit. Unfortunately since he was running so late, he wouldn’t be able to join me on the trail, but on a positive note, the meeting (Lauren and her mom were there too) boosted my spirits, and I was ready for the next section of the trip. I had one marathon down, and 7 more to go.

I hiked up the trail at a brisk pace, not running since my stomach was completely full with all three sandwiches and at least 48oz of Gatorade, and also because the trail climbs fairly continuously up from the gap for several miles. The shade of the trail was welcome, although the steeper pitch actually brought me closer to overheating than anything else all day. After 5.5 miles I reached Addis Gap, and turned west on a FS road, that cuts down across the valley towards Brasstown Bald. I ran most of this long descent, and came out on Miller Creek Road, travelling through a mix of second mountain homes and run down farm houses. Reaching highway 75, I could see Brasstown’s silhouette looming huge in front of me. Across the highway the road changed names to Owl Creek, and I settled in for some enjoyable valley miles. Since I was down around 2000 feet now, and Brasstown’s 4700’ visage was to the west, I was comfortably out of direct sun for the day. Quite nice.

Crossing the valley I decided that 42 miles to the base of Brasstown would not be enough for the day. There’s a motel on the other side of the mountain, in Young Harris, but that would cost money, something my caches were intended to save me from spending. After the first major pitch of the climb, I arrived at my stash and used to the two jugs of water to pour over my head and clean the road grime and drop my core temperature. I decided I would just have to carry my sleeping bag and bivy until I was ready to sleep. Added encouragement for continuing was that I knew when I reached the top of the mountain I’d have an exceptional vantage point for the July 3rd fireworks that would be shot off all over north Georgia tonight (conservative folks up here prefer the fireworks not occur on Sundays).

With the added bag of gear and food, I pushed hard up the remaining 3 steep miles of the climb, and arrived at the parking lot near the summit at sunset. I met a few other revelers with my same intentions, and joined Ben and Reba Fowler, from Gwinnett for the remaining half mile hike to the summit tower. I was all too happy to share some time with these folks, as I had hardly had any company all day. Atop Brasstown the temperature was fair, but the winds picked up and my damp clothing (from the water jugs) betrayed me – I got cold and sat down in a somewhat sheltered spot. At 9:35 the fireworks in both Blue Ridge and Hiawassee started, and it was pretty neat to see some big fireworks, and be looking down on them. The chill made the joy short lived however, as I had dropped my sleeping bag back at the parking lot. I made my way back down, and decided to hike down to Young Harris before looking for a place to rest.

The Wagon Train Trail down to Young Harris is 6 miles of almost unrelenting downhill, so I shuffled my way down, hoping to find a hose at the college campus at the bottom, so that I could clean off and fall asleep. Around midnight I popped out of the woods, and within a few minutes, found a closet behind the cafeteria that wasn’t locked, and happened to have a hose with cold AND HOT water…..lady luck smiles! I was carrying a tiny packet of soap, so I went inside, and took a clandestine shower, of course hoping that no one had heard me and the campus patrol wasn’t going to come knocking (or not knocking….)

Cleaned up and finished with the day’s 52 miles, I dried off and walked another mile or so in the early morning hours before finding Old Union Cemetary. Next to an old rock wall, I laid out my bedding and used the wall as a pillow.

I slept like crap. Oh well, the shower and bed were free!

I awoke Sunday at 5:45, and packed up my stuff, the sleeping bag had some dew on it, so I decided to carry it down the road for a while and let it dry before I stashed it somewhere. I hadn’t had any dinner, and breakfast was two pop tarts, since there wasn’t anything open at this hour. After an hour or so I stashed my bag and bivy in an abandoned barn, and went along my way. After 8-9 miles I reached Blairsville, and excitedly entered the first establishment, Wendy’s, to order a couple biscuits and get the fuel gauge off of “E.”

As I sat, I turned on my cell phone and found that one of my old college professors Dr. Sparling, had called and planned to visit me for a bit on the road today. Aha! Something external to look forward to, one of the great motivators on the lonely road. I had already knocked out a small chunk of mileage for the day, and after knocking out one more chunk, I would have company for a couple hours….great news! It will always put a little pep in your step.

Leaving Blairsville, I was on exposed HWY 76 once again, and today promised to be significantly hotter than yesterday. 5-6 miles later, Dr. Sparling pulled up, and offered me coke and chilled fruit. If you’ve never been running in the heat and had someone offer you ice cold watermelon, YOU HAVE NOT YET LIVED!
I highly recommend any and all melons out in the heat, water, canta, or honeydew. All are unbelievably satisfying. Dr. Sparling then drove ahead and parked, running back to me, and joined me for several miles.

Unfortunately, as we caught up and enjoyed conversation, I found that I was too fatigued to really jog, dodge traffic, and converse at the same time. For 90% of the distance that I had company, I was walking. Luckily I didn’t let this stress me out (I was still just letting the miles come to me) and we enjoyed catching up about Dr. Sparling’s recent travels to Europe and Down Under.

After dunking myself in a creek, and a few more stories, Dr. Sparling turned back to his vehicle, for one more rendevous, and I continued on down the road, which was now (thanks to Dr. Sparling’s suggestion) Old Hwy 2, paralleling the highway, but with much more scenery and a bit of shade. The next time I met Dr. Sparling I downed some more cool fruit and coke, and he promised to leave the remaining snacks on down the road, since there were at least 10 miles further to the next town, Morganton, GA.

I bid Dr. Sparling farewell, and thanked him both for the nourishment and the encouragement. It certainly made the day more fun, and it always boosts morale to have someone in your corner, wishing you success. Half way to Morganton I came upon the fruit stash Dr. Sparling had left, and it certainly saved the day from turning tough.

Nearing Morganton, I came across a small Guatemalan dude, pushing a wheelbarrow across the road. I stuck up a conversation and although he didn’t speak English I asked him how he could wear blue jeans out in the sun on such a hot day. He said he was just used to it, and we enjoyed a few minutes of conversation about how I knew Spanish and where he was from. He told me it was but 20 minutes further to find the gas station in town, and only another 10 minutes past there to reach the mountain waters of Lake Blue Ridge. I made my way in to town, and due to the heat, zipped inside the only store available. I got a jug of cold water, and various drinks and snacks, then headed out back to cool off and again catch up on calories.

Entering into the afternoon, I was definitely feeling the heat, from the gas station to the Lake was only 2 miles, but I was reduced to a walk before I got there. When I finally saw the water I only too happily removed my shoes and jumped in, immediately feeling some relief. Climbing back to the road, I ran over the dam, under the watchful eye of a policeman, who was watching me closely the whole way through town.….I must have terrified the locals with my terroristic dress?

At the edge of the dam, there was a map board, with a diagram of the entire Tennessee River Watershed. I was fascinated. Describing the series of dams and locks along the river, and the other feeder dams (including this one on Lake Blue Ridge), this board gave me something new to marvel at as I meandered on towards Blue Ridge, GA.

Arriving in town, I took a seat in another Wendy’s and really gulped down some calories. The sweet tea was flowing, and the rest of the meal was all much needed. From here I would have a 15 mile trek to my second tent, with just one gas station on the way.

I stopped at the one available resupply, before the mountain road towards the Cohutta Wilderness, and bought a couple salty items, some Pringles and some sunflower seeds, because it had occurred to me that my cache up ahead didn’t have enough salt for the planned full day without resupply tomorrow. After my tent, it would be around 30 miles tomorrow before I exited the woods and had the opportunity to get new fuel.

Turning on onto Old Hwy 2 again, I was really uncomfortable. It was dusk on July 4th, and this road is extremely curvy, with many sections where the kudzu comes up to the edge of the road. I decided I would not run this section now. Drunk July 4th partiers driving on country roads where I didn’t even have a ditch to jump into was not my idea of a good adventure, so I stuck my thumb out and the very first car that came by grabbed me up. My chauffer was a true mountain lady, on her way home from her horse’s stables. She yapped the whole way down the road, telling me about the area and her day. When the road turned to gravel I hopped out and thanked her profusely for saving me 6 dangerous miles. Sometime I’ll head back up there on a weekday, and finish those miles when the traffic is less heavy and intoxicated.

(as a commentary for vol state runners, this would not fly if you want to be creditedwith a finish, since it's a race, everyone has to cover the same miles, in order. If it was a race, i would have either risked traversing the road, or waited until morning when i felt the road was safe)

As I walked up the road several miles, I found an old rope in the ditch, and grabbed it. I wanted to hang my pack in a tree while I slept, so as to keep animals from searching me for food. I was glad to have found the rope, and continued uphill into the Cohutta. Soon I was at the road junction where I’d cached my second night’s dinner and camp. I trudged into the woods and found the stuff. I was wrankled though, because something wasn’t right. One of my two gallons of water was half empty. As I looked closer I realized that it looked as though there was a bullet hole in the jug. NERVOUS. I didn’t want any trouble with anyone, and I wasn’t positive about this being public land, so this was a bit unnerving. Then I realized that the Tupperware with my food was missing all together. I looked closer and realized that the jug was not shot, it was bitten…by something big enough to get it’s mouth around a gallon jug. Aha! A bear has been here, and despite my assumption that granola bars and tuna fish in a Tupperware would be undetectable to a bear, this was not the case. I looked around and in the distance found my food stuffs……completely annihilated….damn!

I decided I didn’t want to remain in this spot, so I used the remaining water and my soap to wash off, and then as darkness fell I repacked the tent and made my way on to the Benton Mackaye Trail. A half mile up the trail I crested the ridge and set up the tent again. Without dinner I didn’t have much to do, and it was already pitch dark out, so I strung my pack up in a tree, and hit the lights.

Again I slept pretty poorly, but arose before first light and found that my hung food was in tact. I bundled up the gear I intended to take, and assessed my fueling situation. I hadn’t had dinner, and here I was with just some Pringles and sunflower seeds to make it across the Cohutta Wilderness. Not exactly setting myself up for comfort!

I trekked along the BMT, thinking of our organized run last year, when Matt Kirk set a phenomenal time of under 6 days for the 288 mile trail. I was moving at a similar pace, but wasn’t carrying all my gear, and really had significantly less elevation to deal with. Anyway, these were two different treks, with two different trekkers, so I was happy to just keep Matt in my mind as I headed towards the south fork trail. When I arrived at the next junction I was surprised to find another coincidence of this route….a sign marking the northern terminus of the Pinhoti trail. Many southern runners will already know that Rob Youngren ran this trail a few weeks ago, and set quite an impressive time as well.
As I turned right, I was on the Pinhoti for a few miles, and ruminated about Rob’s trek. Reaching Three Forks, I turned onto Very Old Route 2, this path is reserved for foot traffic now, but I believe up until the 1950’s it was actually a vehicular road. Going back even further it was the Cherokee trade route through the area. I had selected it as a neat historical addition to the trek, and was glad to find myself upon it.

The ridgeline was beautiful and lush, and I soon came upon some other wildlife enjoying the morning. A young Boar scampered through the brush in front of me, and scrambled over a downed tree as he tried desperately to avoid me. It was pretty wild, this little guy was very distressed about having my company on the ridge, he squealed and complained down the mountainside for at least 10 minutes as I continued on. I never heard any other boar, however. When I reached the junction with the Panther Creek Trail I hooked left and left the ridge, eager to reach the cool waters of the creek and enjoy the view from Panther Creek Falls. As the trail circled back, I ran into the young Boar again, and distressed him to no end. This time he ran UP the mountain squealing and complaining for another 5-10 minutes.

After surveying the largest Wilderness in Georgia from atop the falls, I made my way down into the Conasauga River Valley. When I arrived there I hooked left onto the Conasauga River Trail. I followed this trail for a couple hours, removing my shoes for any streams crossings I couldn’t rock-hop across. Normally I don’t mind soaking my shoes, but I’ve had trouble in multiday runs with blisters, so I decided to err on the side of caution. The cold water felt fantastic, and was almost a good substitute for calories. Each time I dunked myself I felt like a new man.

As I began to think I must be nearing my next turn, I pulled out my compass and was confused to find the river running north instead of south. I guessed I must have stopped paying attention and was in a little curly-q in the river. 300 yards later I got an interesting update. I arrived at the Chesnut Lead Trail. DOH! I just went 4-5 miles in the wrong direction. I couldn’t believe it, but the sign was right there, and I knew what I had done. Ok, I sat down to analyze the situation. I was basically out of food, and had just done a particularly rugged 4-5 miles in the wrong direction. I could backtrack, but my goal for the day was Ringgold, GA, and when I planned the route I knew it was a stretch to think I could get there by midnight. Adding in to the equation that I’d had no dinner or breakfast, and now needed to add 9 miles to the day, I was not excited about “staying the course.”
A small part of me argued that I should stay on course, but the sane part of my brain said that a death march that pulled me in to Ringgold at lunch time tomorrow was not going to be a good thing. I checked my maps and saw that I could re-route and get to Chatsworth in 25 miles, significantly better than the 35+ miles to Ringgold. The downside is that Chatsworth is 35 miles south of Ringgold, so I’d be adding distance to the trip.

As I climbed Chestnut Lead, I just kept my mind right and enjoyed the views. I soaked my shirt and filled my bottles at the last point where I had the chance, I’d be reaching the FS road along the ridge soon, and I needed to stay hydrated as long as possible for this long trek out of the woods. Once on the FS road, my spirits dropped. It was hot up here, and the gravel on the road was the kind that really hurts your feet. I wished I wasn’t wearing my worn out racing flats. I really started to wonder if I wanted to do this under such conditions. The sorry-for-myself started to creep in. Since it was a holiday (the Monday after the 4th) there was a little traffic up here, folks visiting Lake Conasauga, and other day hikers and campers. Each time a car passed going in my direction I resisted the urge to throw out my thumb. This lasted a few hours, while I tried to hold things together mentally and physically. When I reached a sign that said “HWY 411, 16 miles” I felt rough. But I knew I could make it, so I shoved the feelings away and trudged on down the road. Down, Down, Down, I came out of the mountains. Beer drinking rednecks and suburban soccer moms rolled past me, kicking up loads of debris from the very dusty road. When the road finally turned to pavement, I knew this trek was a success, I was over half way done, and there was no way I was going to fail to finish my trip across Georgia. However, just a mile later I came out of the tree cover and entered the late afternoon oven. I was very depleted, not having eaten or drank anything for several hours. And when I reached the highway, there was no convenience store! How inconvenient!!
Luckily, just a mile south I found a gas station and went inside. I quickly gulped 2-3 cokes from the fountain, and got some ice cream from the freezer. Interestingly, after rehydrating for a few minutes, I suddenly felt light headed. I held it together by leaning on the freezer for a minute, and the feeling passed. Can’t explain that one, but perhaps it was my body complaining about the rough afternoon.

I left the store and headed south towards Chatsworth. Only a few miles later I came to a Mexican restaurant, as I hit the outskirts of Eton. I went inside and decided that since I was only a few miles from Chatsworth, I might as well keep refueling, and eat some more. I enjoyed the meal, and especially enjoyed the time in that A/C. I called my brother and he googled to give me the phone number of a hotel in Chatsworth, which I called and found the rate to be $44, much better than the $79 reservation I had had in Ringgold. Score one for wrong turns! I also called Rich Schick, my first real life ultra mentor, and told him about the goings on, since he and I had discussed a cross Georgia run many years earlier. Rich was excited and encouraging.

I got back on the road as the sun was dropping below the horizon, and chugged along the “old federal road” that used to be one of the white man’s only trade routes through the Cherokee nation. I got in to a really good mood through here, and as a train passed next to me, I turned up the speed, and began to recite Bob Dylan’s Song, Hezekiah Jones.

Here are the lyrics:

This is the story of Hezekiah Jones...
Hezekiah Jones lived in a place... in Arkansas.
He never had too much, except he had some land,
An' he had a couple of hogs and things like that.
He never had much money
But he'd spend what he did make as fast as he made it,
So it never really mattered that he had much money.
But in a cupboard there, He kept in the cupboard... he kept in the cupboard books,
He called the books his "rainy season."
The white folks around the county there talked about Hezekiah...
They... said, "Well... old Hezekiah, he's harmless enough,
but the way I see it he better put down them goddam books,
Readin' ain't no good, for an ignorant nigger."
One day the white man's preacher came around
Knockin' on doors, knockin' on all the doors in the county,
He knocked on Hezekiah's door.
He says, "Hezekiah, you believe in the Lord?"
Hezekiah says, "Well, I don't know, I never really SEEN the Lord,
I can't say, yes, I do..."
He says, "Hezekiah, you believe in the Church?"
Hezekiah says, "Well, the Church is divided, ain't they,
And... they can't make up their minds.
I'm just like them, I can't make up mine either."
He says, "Hezekiah, you believe that if a man is good Heaven is his last reward?"
Hezekiah says, "I'm good... good as my neighbor."
"You don't believe in nothin'," said the white man's preacher,
You don't believe in nothin'!"
"Oh yes, I do," says Hezekiah,
"I believe that a man should be indebted to his neighbors
Not for the reward of Heaven or fear of hellfire."
"But you don't understand," said the white man's preacher,
"There's a lot of good ways for a man to be wicked..."
Then they hung Hezekiah high as a pigeon.
White folks around there said, "Well... he had it comin'
'Cause the son-of-a-bitch never had no religion!"
------

It is unbelievable to me that people have to live with this type of hatred and oppression. Human nature can be an ugle thing. Reminding myself how important it is to stay clear of hate is the reason I appreciate and enjoy this song. I yelled the lyrics under the noise of the loud train passing, and felt energized.

After belting out the lyrics, the train finished passing me, and I trotted on towards the Key West Inn.

Reaching Chatsworth and the intersection with Hwy 76, I got some more ice cream and headed in to my motel. I was more than happy to take a real shower and enjoy a soft bed for the first time in 4 days. I fell asleep after watching some comedy show. I was well satisfied with the day, and looking forward to the next one. I set my watch and phone alarms for 4am, so I could get an early start in the cool morning.

My body had other plans. I slept through both my alarms, something I never do. I think the poor sleep and exhaustion caught up to me and my body mandated the extra sleep. Awakening at the late hour of 9am, I hurriedly left my room and started down the wide open road towards Dalton.

This morning, with nearly 150 miles under my belt, was not very comfortable. I chugged along, and felt like I was progressing quite well, but the miles were coming slowly. I passed a bank sign proclaiming that it was 101 degrees out, before noon! I’m sure it wasn’t quite that hot, but it was definitely getting up there. I called Dr. Sparling to say hello and give him an update. Again, it was good to have someone “in my corner.” Both my parents were traveling abroad, so despite their support, I really didn’t have anyone else “worried” about me.

Crossing the Conasauga Rover again was a treat, although looking down from the bridge and seeing that the beautiful mountain stream I had swum in yesterday was so much dirtier out here where people could trash it was not very inspiring. I did see a beaver swimming across into the reeds, which was a neat treat.

After lunch in Dalton I continued on up the highway, as it shrank for a while, down to just two lanes. I reached a really small convenience store and went inside to inquire about some ice. The lady said she only had big bags, but I should just go one more mile up the road and I’d get to the interstate crossing where there were plenty of places that would have coke fountains. I enjoyed a few minutes of conversation and air conditioning but then hit the heat again, looking forward to more ice soon. I hadn’t realized how close I was to the interstate.

The interstate crossing south of Ringgold brought a little more ice and relief, but the afternoon heat was in the high 90’s, so all the ice was gone in no time. The beautiful views of the Cohutta were lost in the past, and I was just trying to make it to evening. Round about 7pm I stopped for dinner at another Mexican restaurant just north of Ringgold. I immediately ordered a “Dos Equis Mas Grande, Por Favor!” – this meal and drink really hit the spot. It was glorious to walk out of that place with an exploding gullet, knowing that I could go without eating for the rest of the day and I still wouldn’t wake up feeling depleted. I ran on to The Tennessee line, and the town of East Ridge, just south east of Chattanooga.

During this stretch I called and said hello to the Laz family. It was good to check in with my adoptive ultra parents, and be reminded that “after Chattanooga you only have 30 miles left, right?”

I also started finalizing my plans for returning home. My mom was to fly into Atlanta from Munich the next afternoon, and my brother was set to come pick her up, so I intended to find a ride from Chattanooga to Atlanta, and carpool the rest of the way. I found a shuttle service and reserved a spot on the 1pm van, which would get me to Atlanta in time.

As the sun set I ran and walked the last few miles in to East Ridge, and got to the interstate crossing where there were plenty of motels. Just as I was about to enter the Motel 6, I saw a neon sign a little further off my route advertising $29.99 rooms. I turned and went the 300-400 yards to this other place and went inside to secure a room. After filling out some paperwork the guy told me my total was $42. I protested immediately that I had seen the sign outside and was looking for the 29.99 rate. He said he had no more of those rooms, to which I responded that I thought he should change his sign outside, and that I’d be happy to pay the 29.99 rate for any room he did have. After a back and forth volley of unnecessary argument, and him telling me what an upgrade the rooms he had left were, I told him I’d rather give my business to someone who wasn’t going to lure me in with a false add. He promptly yelled at me to “Leave this place!”

Now, I realize this is a marketing technique that most businesses use, and we are all used to it – and on other occasions I have let it slide, but what the hell, man!?? It was fun to get worked up and tell the guy how I really felt. I walked next door and into the motel 6. I checked on the rate, and the guy showed me the sign on the wall, $36. I happily paid him and told him the story from next door. We both smiled knowingly and he wished me a pleasant evening, inquiring about my lack of a vehicle, he reminded me to “get some rest, man!”

So now I had 10 hours until the end of the 4th day of the trek, and I wanted to finish before that mark, so I set my alarm for 4 am, and racked out.

The alarm worked this time and I was on the road by 4:15. I left a stash of some items in a bush by the motel. Things like sunscreen and my toothbrush, my soap and a few other small items I wouldn’t need again (I’ll retrieve these on my way up to the vol state next week).

Running through the predawn in East Ridge, and through the tunnel into Chattanooga was nice. I had some strength in my legs and was able to pretty much continuously run for 6+ miles. In Chattanooga, restaurants were finally opening and I got some food at Bojangles, enjoying every bite and sip.

I trudged on, and over to hwy 11 around moccasin point. It would be absolutely crazy to attempt this when there’s any traffic, because there are stone walls on one side of this road, and a bluff on the other. I criss-crossed the road trying to be visible to the early morning drivers, the sun had come up and I did just fine. Around the other side of this curve at the base of Lookout Mountain, I turned south on the pike, and headed down the hwy to my finish point at the first exit of Interstate 59.

A year or so ago I had run from Castle Rock down over Sand Mountain on my way to a friend’s party on Lookout Mountain, so I intended to use that run as the connector for this route to the Vol State.

I soon realized I wasn’t quite going to be able to guarantee making my shuttle if I continued all the way to my intended finish. I had about 12 miles to go, and really only an hour to spare, so I decided to cut things a bit short and make sure I caught my ride.

I thumbed back to the interstate, washed off in a hotel pool, got picked up by the Nashville->Chattanooga shuttle, and was deposited at the shuttle depot back in East Ridge. Just like that I was off the road. I walked a mile to a thrift store and bought a shirt and some shorts for $7, and weakly ambled back to the depot, where I had about 15 minutes before I got in the van and we headed off to Atlanta. I got there in plenty of time to welcome mom back from a month in Europe, and my brother showed up at the terminal not 5 minutes after we had collected her bags.

Riding home my legs hurt! But I was pretty happy. A good adventure and another dream realized. The trek was nearly 200 miles in just under 96 hours. right at 50 miles a day for 4 days. Basically the same mileage I managed when I ran the vol state with a crew a couple years ago. I attribute this to increased maturity, experience, and the fact that it didn't break 100 degrees every day this time!!!

So I have a couple short stretches to go finish up, and then I’ll have connected over 500 miles of journey running from Missouri to South Carolina. Next up is the trek to the Atlantic!

lake loop

2010-04-25T14:19:00.000-07:00

since barkley i've only run further than 4.5 miles once, although i've done it twice in a day a few times....
this weather is glorious and the lake loop beckons ALL THE TIME.
4.5 miles of joy.

experiencing purity

2010-03-30T14:30:00.000-07:00

this years barkley is over.
i am really happy.

being out there may have torn me down again,
but it was a healing time that i've been needing, too.

i've experienced heart break, starting a business, and the continuing search for goals and wants and needs and meaning.
some things have not felt certain or concrete, and i have struggled.

i have been reminded that it is absolutely glorious to be alive.

my highlights:

pre-exploration with GOOD FRIEND byron, in the snow on monday

pre-exploration with GOOD FRIEND mike, in the beautiful warmth on wednesday

complete purity and joy blasting down trail with byron and mike, meeting JB and travis.

in camp shenanigan's all week, dinner with johnny D, leonard and byron.

feeling so good and relaxed on loop one. i haven't been that happy in a long run or event in over two years.

meeting blake and cracking a joke as i descended rat jaw. the view of the petros valley had me in a state of purity and bliss.

leading most of the loop with jim nelson, and being the first ones to go through the tunnel. SO COOL!

heading out on loop 2 and being ready and happy.

turning my light on while collecting my page at the base of the spectacle on loop 2.

enjoying the breeze and the beauty of evening on loop 2.

waiting for jim and sharing raw dog falls, pig head creek, rat jaw, and the prison
on loop 2. still leading....fun.

watching jim disappear strongly on the bad thing.

nailing the needle's eye and competently hitting the bottom of zipline alone on a

moonlit night with intense downbursts of cool air blowing the leaves all over big hell.

friends in camp after 20:45 for two loops.

dad being there with me.

hearing gary say i am "easily on pace for 5 loops." (chuckle)

resting with a stomach that was having a new experience...shutting down.

descending hell on loop 3, asking alan for an aspirin and losing a minute because i stopped being vigilant, just for 10 seconds.

starting up zipline and hearing the rain move in like a locomotive from the SW....a LOCOMOTIVE!

adrenaline pulling us up zipline in survival mode.

slowly nailing the descent of the bad thing.
FREEZING toes under the prison.

quitting at the prison but still climbing uber rat jaw.

o-meliating back to camp

dad being there with me

telling everyone alan wouldn't do it on his own, and being wrong. (very impressed, alan)

laying in the van "coming down."

sharing in camp

witnessing the 3 talented, skilled, strong, tough fun runners come in.

witnessing JB's STRENGTH.

knowing that it's within each and every one of us.

having a place in this world, and knowing that WE'RE ALIVE!

peace barkers
carl

expansion

2010-03-08T09:26:00.000-08:00

after a good february of long stuff, last weekend i bailed on my double GAAT adventure, i was intimidated by the distance and the terrain and the weather, and i just wasn't excited enough to go after the experience.
i still needed a last long training excursion however, so this weekend i took a shot. all week i was trying to create an adventure that was inspiring and tough.

after an initial crazy idea of a 4 day hike from springer to NC and back while fasting, i decided i would need a shorter, more intense trek, because there is fun exciting shop work calling.
dad offered to pick me up if i went one way.

saturday i went to atlanta and fixed a machine issue for a friend, that took all day, and i drove up to amicalola falls state park.
amicalola to dicks creek gap is 76 miles and both ends are on paved roads.
springer to NC is 76 miles and both ends require extensive forest road travel, much of which is covered in ice right now.
the decision to shift the run 9 miles south and start at amicalola was easy.

arriving after dark, i climbed into the back of the van and packed my backpack with various food items, wind pants, two headlamps, body glide, lighter, balaclava, a couple chemical hand warmers, two water bottles, and a space blanket.
it was a calm clear night in comparison to some of the frigid tundra nights we've seen recently, so i started in a longsleeve shirt (with sleeves long enough to pull over my hands), and short sleeve shirt, my wind shirt, and my woodsman shorts (a couple good pockets, ultralight material). also, i decided to wear the new balance trail 100's, since my other flats didn't have any tread on them, this was a gamble that ended up paying off very well i think.

the approach trail from the visitor center has been rerouted since my last visit, so it took a minute of wandering to figure out where the trail was, but soon enough i was climbing the 400+ stairs to the top of the falls.

the 8.8 miles to springer felt like a little "pre-late-night" prologue. i reminded myself that even though it was night time, i shouldn't be tired because if i was at home, i would not even be thinking about bed yet.
after flurries in athens on tuesday, this week featured a few relatively warm days, so i was assuming that even after the horrific ice storms that demolished the mountains last month, the trails would be nice and clear......i was wrong. south facing slopes were generally very nice, one would think it was normal late winter / early spring conditions, a little frozen mud but generally great trail. north and west facing slopes however were generally pretty bad. with all the thru hikers starting out, at least there was no post holing for me (which would have been rough through some of the 4-5 foot drifts!). however the thru hikers also meant that the deeper snow was packed down, melted in the warmer days, and refrozen into slick patches during the evening. the crusty stuff gripped ok on the shoes, but there was plenty of slick stuff, and this, combined with the sidehill nature of some of the trail, meant that the going was sketchy in many places.

the 30 miles from springer to blood mountain were the balance of the first night miles. and they treated me really well. i was in the early stages of the adventure, naive about what was ahead, and overly enthusiastic about my own toughness. i was daydreaming about potentially adding 20+ miles to the trek and having dad pick me well inside NC, making it a 100+ miler.
that enthusiasm would wane later.
machine shop stuff was playing a major role in my mind as well, mentally i was designing some tools and generally trying to be creative about shop plans. fun.
interestingly, during the witching hours of 2-4 a.m. i passed 3 (count them, 3!) campsites where people had fires going. wha!? who was up tending fire all night (?), it's not like there were groups of people partying. just one or two tents and a roaring fire. i only noticed a single person at each site (and they were miles apart). still unsure about this one, although my best guess is that since there are alot of fresh thru hikers on the trail right now, perhaps they are not yet accustomed to life in the dark woods, and they find it comforting to keep the fire up all night?

i also passed one campsite where i was "greeted" by a couple of snarling dogs. if they were thru hikers, i'm sure they'll become more accustomed to random folks walking by "their" territory at night.

as the sun emerged i was near the side trail to dockery lake, and i marveled at the high rock bluffs to my left. great barkley training there, but i had a destination. i started mixing in good jogging throughout this section, as my legs were begging for some real use. all the 10-14 hour training hike have paid off.
it is a travesty that i left the camera in the van, as the views from blood mountain (and green clifftop and blue mountain and tray mountain) were very special.

arriving at neels gap, and the mountain crossings store, i was hopeful to find a hot breakfast and supplement my foodstuffs. while i didn't sit down to bacon and eggs, i did manage a hot sandwich, a coke, snickers, banana, and oatmeal cream pie. the 10 minutes i took there were well worth it, as i remembered the lifegiving "meal" i received a couple weeks ago at the heartbreak 100k.

the 6.5 miles to hogpen gap laid the groundwork for the day. i was more than halfway done, but the miles were to come much harder now. the sluchy snow and rock were less conducive to easy motion, especially the skiing descent to tesnatee gap and the slick trail up wildcat mountain.

the next section, 14 miles to unicoi gap featured both the best running of the trek, and the lowest mental state. i was still far from done (almost 10 hours to go!), but i was also getting sufficiently tired that eating was less enjoyable, and the snowier sections took alot more concentration. the treacherousness of the trail was obvious, shown by the number of footprints i avoided where someone else had already slipped off the sidehilled trail.
it was early in this section that i re-committed to the full 76. i had been daydreaming about changing the rendezvous point to mile 60 rather than 76, but i knew that the mental training was crucial here. i adopted the just do it attitude. my legs were sore and i was tired. the response to these complaints was to keep going. no need to indulge in the wimpy thoughts.

reaching unicoi gap meant i was set for the longest climb of the trek, and the impending evening.
i struggled up rocky mountain and tray mountain, seeing the deepest drifts, and navigating some slippery refreezing slowmelt. atop tray mountain the views were again amazing, so i lingered to snack and take them in.
the north side of tray mountain was hit hard by the ice stroms, so reroutes were the name of the game on this descent. soon enough the sun slipped below the horizon and i was in my own world again. the normally very runnable (mostly) descent from tray to dicks creek gap was made uber treacherous at times by the ice. i ate it fully once, and went down to all fours on numerous occasions.
i knew if the conditions were good i had a shot at sub 24 hours, but throughout this section the necessary ambitious pace was negated by ice and limbs. the next goal became 25:20, which would mean a pace of "exactly" 3mph. unfortunately the final descent was the worst ice and snow of the entire trek, and i meandered down to hwy 76 at 9:45pm, for 25:30 elapsed.

i was spent pretty good, but with a good meal and a little nap i could have gone on, which is exactly what i will have to do in a few weeks!

the mt100's were actually awesome for the crusty ice, as the rock plate kept the bottoms of my feet relatively happy, and thank goodness i didn't take the 152s with no tread, i'd still be out there.

76 to 76

2010-03-07T21:00:00.000-08:00

well i don't need to see crusty ice and snow again for
A WHILE.

just got in from the 76 to 76.
drove up to amicalola falls saturday,
packed my pack, and headed north at 2015 saturday evening

although there was annoying ice and snow over significant portions of the first 40 miles, i was rockin and rollin when i hit neels gap at 0945 sunday morning, 13.5 hours in.
grabbed handfuls of food from their stuffs, to supplement what i was carrying.

the trail through the night was frozen solid and crusty, affording decent footing since most of the trail is on south facing slopes, with the snow melted thin.

holy cow, the last 36 miles had plenty of runnable dirt, but had i known ahead of time what i was committing to, there is no way i'd have gone after this beast. from tray mountain north, i was ice skating my way along the sidehilled trails. had i not been exhausted, i would have been majorly discouraged....as it was, i just needed to get to hwy 76, where my dad was going to deliver me from my sins.

25:30 after the start, a couple hours after dark sunday evening, i had gone from amicalola to hwy 76......76 miles, around 21k +/- elevation.
without the snow and ice i think i'd have eclipsed my 22:50 similar route of two years ago by a fair margin.

comments on a nike slogan applied to hard runs:
after rockin and rollin all night, i had begun to have serious doubts around mile 45. these doubts were shouting in my face by mile 50, with the option of having dad pick me up at mile 60 rather than 76.
the order of the day was to just do it, discomfort can be its own bedfellow!

feb recap

2010-02-28T21:31:00.000-08:00

m
t
w
h
f: 20 miles, 2,000' - mind not right for 150 miler
s
s: 22 miles, 1,000' - fast run.

well,
the last week didn't turn out like originally planned.
i was going to go out with a bang,
a 150 mile bang, the whole georgia AT, twice without stopping.
instead i wimped out and turned around after 10 miles, for a 20 mile workout.
my head just wasn't up to it this time.

with the 20 friday evening, and the 22 sunday evening, i did manage to get to

333.1 miles
70,700' gain

(not quite krupicka's 501 mi, 101,300', gosh that's impressive!?)

for the month.
this is approximately an average of 24 miles and 5,000' every other day.

technically i did not even come close to a real 30 miler every other day.
but i am almost satisfied.

if the last big workout had been accomplished i'd have done the equivalent.
granted, not completing that workout makes the numbers pale in comparison to the goal,
but the first three weeks speak for themselves.
i now have 3 weeks to continue preparing for barkley, and a week to rest.
i believe i can be ready. that was the purpose of the month.

looking forward to the coming 3 weeks of training,
i had a dream last night in which i finished (and won, there were 3 other finishers) the barkley.

a

2010-02-21T18:11:00.000-08:00

week three february

m: 0.0
t: 0.0
w: 15.5 miles on roads, 900'
t: 15.0 miles on roads, 700'
f: 56.0 miles heartbreak 100k, 17,000'
s: finishing friday run
s: 4.0 miles in marion, mt. ida, 800'

total: 90.5 miles, +19,400'

monday and tuesday were rest

wednesday was a solid an exciting road run that felt good and finished fast with metallica in the ears. it was super cold and windy. windy!

thursday was a tired but solid run in slightly warmer conditions

friday/saturday:
wow. will add some here soon.

sunday:
up and over mt ida from matt's place. with lily too.
beautiful day, warm, almost too warm...shook things out.
felt better than expected, but that doesn't mean i felt good!

a bit behind on the goal, but a very solid week, my feet hurt, my legs are heavy, and when i start resting, i'm gonna be getting seriously stronger.

cumulative for feb:
291.1 miles, +65,700'
in mountains:
210.0 miles, +61,700'

chug

2010-02-15T07:54:00.001-08:00

week two february

m: 0.0
t: 0.0
w: 11.0 miles on AT, +2,000' (cancelled 50 miler due to conditions)
t: 27.0 miles on roads, +1,200'
f: 10.0 miles at FHSP, +2,000'
s: 16.0 miles at FHSP, +4,000'
s: 10.0 miles at FHSP, +2,600'

total: 74.0 miles, +11,800'

monday and tuesday i was waiting for weather.

wednesday i found it.
high winds, lots of slick ice, very cold temps....i called the 50 miler for safety.

thursday was trying to make up for wednesday. good road running.

friday was 10pm-2am in some more freezing ass cold.

saturday was an abbreviated long day, with good company.

sunday was a wrap up and much needed check of the falls and jaw.

a good week although the miles didn't pile up. next week's got some catching up to do.

cumulative for feb:
200.6 miles, +46,300'

hop on board

2010-02-07T18:36:00.000-08:00

week one february

m: 33.6 miles on AT, +10,300'
t: 0.0
w: 40.2 miles on AT, +12,000'
t: 0.0
f: 0.0
s: 22.0 miles on roads, +1,000'
s: 30.0 miles on AT, +11,200'

total: 125.8 miles, +34,500'

monday was a crashing crystal palace.
all day on a couple inches of crushed ice.

wednesday was COLD. COLD. COLD.

saturday started in a rough way but ended happy.

sunday was icy and snowed without snowing. pretty.

barkley train has left the station. carl is on board.

new training plan

2010-02-02T16:25:00.001-08:00

it's called:

30 miles every other day in february.

the plan is to do alot of miles, and take a lot of rest.
the mileages don't need to be exact, and they just have to average to 30 miles / 2 days.
distance can be put in the bank, and days can be alternated if need be.

the total would be 420 miles in 28 days. not really that crazy when you look at it as 105 mi/week.
plenty of people do that.
the difference will be the long workouts, and the vertical.

if i don't execute the training, i don't see the point in toeing the line at barkley.

here we go.

yogging

2010-01-28T12:22:00.001-08:00

picture thanks to someone's facebook, hopefully they don't mind....
my buddy jason modified it slightly....

anyway, i went out to mountain mist with the mission of "winning."
honestly i knew there were probably 3 guys for whom a horrible race was still better than my best day, but the week before the race i was trying to decide what strategy would give me the best shot.
i humorously told several people at the start that i was going to start in the lead and not let anyone by me.

unfortunately this only lasted about 3/4 mile, because david riddle saw me go off the front and he is for real.

that being said, after the first couple of slight inclines i knew this was not my day. everything i would normally charge up, i was red-lining on. by 3 miles more than 10 people had passed me, and i was wondering where this day was going????

i reached the first aid station (at 6 miles) in 15th place. it wasn't a particularly slow time, but my legs were not sprightly at all. i was trying to decide what plan B should be. i kept pushing, knowing that plan B was to give it my all, even if it was a slow time.

i took it easy on the first big climb of the day, and decided i would just have to go slow for a bit and regroup. i did this, but was soon let down by the results....i had figured if brought the tach down a bit i would get in a groove and start picking people off. instead i was still getting passed! not blown off the trail, but passed none the less.

when i reached half way, someone noticed my "i'd rather be sprinting" shirt, and commented that i was moving pretty fast.....i just mumbled that "something's gotta change!"

soon there after i caught my great friend byron backer and i said, "man, i'm gonna have to eat some humble pie tonight!"

byron's response was just what i needed to hear.
"you're moving ok. you're in 17th, the others aren't that far ahead, i'd say you can catch 10 of them if you keep your head in it."

byron is the man, i've shared alot of miles with him, and the dude is just awesome. he has more experience at going out hard than anyone else i run with. and that comment was perfectly true.

i replied, "thanks for the encouragement, just gotta regroup and keep the head in it."

from there on, i wasn't floundering anymore. i still didn't have the normal legs, but i found my groove. down to the land trust and up waterline, and then mounted somewhat of an attack in mackay's hollow. by the end i had worked back to 12th, and although it was the 3rd slowest of my 9 finishes at the mist, i gotta say it was one of my better efforts. 4:53.

post script:
after spending the last 3 days in bed, i realize that my body was trying to race, and fend off illness out there on the course. i couldn't climb because my immune system was in over drive.

since barkley is the real focus, this is a little comforting, knowing that the 4:53 wasn't due to being out of shape, but probably was influenced alot by the cold that was trying to nail me.

thanks to byron i get to be happy with my effort. the more time out there and the more maturity gained, the easier it will become to regroup and keep the head in it.

shoes

2009-11-07T18:31:00.000-08:00

so here are some pictures of 3 pairs of new balance 152s.
they have 100, 1000, and 2000 miles on them.
notice the hole underneath the big toe in the most worn pair.
of course, i have some insoles in there to run in those ones, although they are now relegated to slow runs of less than 3 miles.

i started wearing racing flats because it is hot in georgia in the summertime, and my old shoes (and socks) held the heat in really well. i got to hating hot feet, and i found some light weight shoes on the clearance rack....tried them out, and found that the light shoes also have very breathable, light weight uppers. perfect for shedding heat. i also started wearing my shoes a half size too big, so that there was more room for air to circulate inside the shoe. along the same vein i stopped wearing socks. now i am so used to them that i wear them the same year round.

i wear these shoes with just the included insoles for about the first 250-400 miles, then the EVA is sufficiently compacted, and the upper stretched enough, that i put in spenco insoles. usually a 1/8" thick insole.....then after 800-1000 miles the shoes are compacted even more, and i switch to a 1/4" pair of insoles.
i am on the original 1/4" insoles still, these things last forever....probably have 3000+ miles on that single pair of 1/4" insoles.

the only thing these shoes aren't great for is trails with sharp rocks, at least when they are really worn. that being said, i raced mountain mist in them this year, and since i was running hard and concentrating on the trail, they were ok.
i would not want to run a trail race longer than 50 miles in then, because after 50 miles i would rather have more padding on the feet than light, breathable shoes. more padding so that when i am tired i don't have to concentrate so much on foot placement.
on roads i wore them for the mother road 100 (at least the last 80 miles). and i wore a previous version (the NB RC 550's) for more than 200 miles of the vol state 500km a couple years ago.

i've still got a couple pairs of these stored under the bed, so it'll be 2011 before i really need more shoes, especially is these MT100's work out well for some trail running.

initial thoughts on the MT100:
that rock plate decreases the flexibilty of the shoe significantly.
i use a razor to slice the shoe in several places, and regain that flexibilty.
i've done this to many shoes in the past, and it doesn't cause them to split like one might think.
after a few more runs in the MT's i'll post again on that.

fall?

2009-09-12T19:24:00.000-07:00

it feels like fall is close, there have been a couple cool days and nights.

the goal as it stands is to prove that starting the business and running alot at the same time is possible.

the business is coming along at mach 4, one big job completed a couple weeks ago, and 2 more in process......

the running is solid but not stellar, 50 mile weeks are doable but 65-70 seems out there.

this fall/winter are available for big games, should i be ready and equipped for them....
run across north georgia,
NC to springer speed,
100 miles on the track,

thus far the regular 9-12 mile trail runs at cochran shoals and the 15.4 mile home loop in athens are the places for work to be done, just need to get from 4-5 days/week to 5-6 days/week.
and need to be ok heading out for long ones on the weekends.....not easy, but fun.

most amazing: level of productivity/effectiveness now compared to any time in the past.....it is higher, period.

peace,
carl

busy

2009-03-29T17:27:00.000-07:00

busy as heck, man.
1. running the lathe, laser and EDM for tech.
2. busting out numerous hours for www.sentrinsic.com
(even brought scott down for a little paycheck)
3. some time prototyping pedals,
4. thinking about a bicycle horn that rivals a car horn and mounts inside the handlebar (rechargeable Li-ion, easy swap-out).
5. special wrenches for Trek dropouts.
6. and maybe some barkley preparations....

prototype sweet pedal. this one is light!
fun stuff.
need to make fixtures for manufacturing 4 or 8 at a time....

mom's flower, nicely done!

barkley update, t-minus 5 days....

tree frog and caesars head

2009-03-17T18:51:00.000-07:00

ran byron's idea of the caesars head double marathon yesterday.
furman to jones gap state park, up to caesars head state park, then back down to furman.
48-50 miles in 8:30 or so. quite a rainy day. fun stuff, and churned out the last 15 or so at 7:30-8:00min/mi pace. felt good and the legs are A1 today. nice confidence boost, and really enjoyed the time out there.

side note: saw my first tree frog at the lake house tonight.
plenty of other wildlife all the time....king snakes, black racers, squirrels, deer, myriad birds, lizards, etc, but hadn't seen a tree frog...of course, technically this is a "gutter frog" since that's where i spotted him/her....

walking in the woods

2009-03-09T13:56:00.001-07:00

friday evening i left atlanta and stopped at the walmart in dawsonville.
i got
a pound of roasted salted almonds
10oz beef jerky
16 imitation nutrigrain bars
12 hershey bars (with almonds)
a pound of skittles
some 55 gallons trash bags
a bic lighter
some AA batteries

i went back to the parking lot and divvied each the food into bags. 4 bags of each.
i stuffed my sleeping bag, pad, rain gear, and socks into my day pack, along with 3/4 of the food.
the fanny pack got 2 water bottles, 1/4 of the food, and my notepad, pen, chapstick, and lighter.

i drove to amicalola falls state park.
the plan was to hike to NC and back. 170 miles round trip. 4 days.

i slept in the van, and awoke to my alarm at 5:45. a few minutes more of sleep, then final preparations and water bottle filling at the ranger station.
6:14am and i'm off for the 8.5 mile climb to springer.
only the first 20 minutes require the headlamp.
arriving at springer mountain at 8:55am i find that there is now a "caretaker," Fred, who camps there, 10 days on, 4 days off. a talkative dude who hastens to strike up a conversation in the dense fog and mist.
i tell him that in 10-15 times being on top of springer i've only seen the view twice.
he details his schedule and inquires about my plans. i'm just out for 4 days, i say, but i'll be back.

over the next several miles i intersect the benton mackaye trail, and i contemplate this may's adventure ( runthebmt.wikispaces.com )
i manage to stay above 3mph even through the roller coaster of hightower gap, horse gap, cooper gap and another unnamed one.
these are the steepest most unforgiving on the AT in GA. they also coincide with a longish stretch without water...i forgot.
nearing gooch gap i scoop some water from a spring, and guzzle the goodness.

at 3:04pm i pop out at woody gap. my pace is strong, and without any stops i've managed to cover 28.5 miles in under 9 hours. considerably above 3mph, even with the 20 lbs on my back. i am pleased.
soon the back of my knee starts to talk to me. i ask him to quiet down and forge ahead. i sit for 1 minute at preacher rock. the view is too nice to pass without a pause. even in just 60 seconds the tendon in the knee tightens. i ease it out and work towards blood mountain. throughout the day i pass many who are just starting their personal journey of a THRU HIKE. just before jarrard gap i pass a couple with an aussie accent who are working hard. they ask me about the distance to a gap i've never heard of....i tell them there is a good camping spot less than a mile ahead and wish them luck. it interests me to see the different attitudes and style in these thru hikers every year.
i always judge them in my mind, "yep, she'll make it..." or, "no, not him." who knows if i am ever right?

at the base of blood mountain i get the almost obligatory question from a guy with a pack.
if anyone wonders what sport has sold itself best as the toughest, let there be no doubt. whenever i am moving well on the trail or roads, and someone gets personal and asks how far i am going, the most common follow up question is......"wow, so are you a TRIATHLETE?"
i chuckle and answer no, no, just a runner, jogger, hiker, as the case may be.

throughout the day i eat 3 nutrigrains, 3 hersheys, a handful of skittles, almonds, and jerky. probably 2000 calories. way less than i usually eat when i'm sedentary, but this hikng stuff keeps me busy. the hours fly by and i feel like i've only just begun to walk.

i am pleased to arrive at the summit of the second highest mountain georgia (and 38 miles) only a few minutes before sundown. i turn on my cell phone and check in with my family. my knee is hurting, but i don't mention it. they worry enough already. dad has some suggestions on training for the barkley, and is keenly interested in how the hike is going. i tell him i'll continue into the night and see how things go.

down the mountain towards neels gap the sun disapears and the nearly full moon emerges. significant pain, i bring out the phone again and voice my concern to dad's ears. he says that if it doesn't improve i shouldn't hesitate to call him for a ride tomorrow. i limp a little pathetically down to the road crossing.

the walisi-yi center at neels gap is an outfitters that doubles as a party scene for the month of march. there are at least 100 thru-hikers around, and a band has come up the mountain to play some cover songs for the aspiring adventurers. I contemplate marching on into the night, towards my goal of 42.5 miles per day, but i can't find the reason. i need to push myself, but a serious injury from too much pushing is not justified this close to the main event. i stop at 40, then lay out my pad and sleeping bag, and crawl in. i doze for several hours while the band and revelers use the night to their advantage. around midnight i actually fall asleep. the sky is clear and the moon bright. i awake and roll over every 45 minutes or so, when the hip gets sore.

i assume i will wake up early but am surprised when i wake up to real daylight. the clocks moved forward while i dreamt, but it's already 8am!
i quickly pack and look up trail and down.
with my knee talking so loudly i am hesitant to continue. surely i won't be able to maintain the pace, and i have to be back tuesday evening no matter what. i decide to turn around. better safe than sorry with the knee in this shape.

i go around blood mountain on the freeman trail, which is heinously rocky, and no quicker a route than the AT over the mountain. its endearing quality the the AT lacks here is plentiful rivulets of water. i drink and hydrate.

at bird gap i pass the campers who recognize me from the evening before. they have a happy camp. soon thereafter a runner passes me heading the opposite direction, i think to ask him what "endurance run" name is printed on his t-shirt, but he is gone before i muster the words.

my knee talks louder and louder, and my enthusiasm wanes. i think about hitch-hiking from woody gap back to amicalola, but know that that in itself would take all day, i'd have to find a ride to dahlonega, then to dawsonville, then to amicalola...no mean feat. i figure i'll just go 20 today and then 20 tomorrow and be back to the van. i don't like to sit down when i'm hiking...relentless forward motion is the name of the game, but i am tired and wimpy. i sit on a rock for a minute. along comes a woman runner, going my way. she spritely jumps over me and drops down the hill. i get up and think about all the times i have flown by this point, enjoying speed. i trudge on. a while later, as i cross a creek, i look back and see our resident internet fiend, and ultrarunner/poster extraordinaire, christian. he says, "there you are!" and runs on by.

i contemplate asking him for a ride to dahlonega, but think i should tough this out. I use him as a carrot and pick up my pace on this uphill, not losing much ground...but i am working for it. soon he calls back, "hey carl, if your knee is hurt, do you want a ride?"
"that's really enticing, i wish you hadn't asked," i reply. then, "let me think about it, i'll let you know in 3 miles when we're back at the road crossing."

the trail flattens out and his run spanks my walk. i know i can keep going, but my pace is slow, and i don't look forward to hiking until 2am to get back on a hurt knee, or stopping short and just doing 20 today...i decide that since christian lives in atlanta i can just give him my pack (with my overnight gear) and finish the hike with only my fanny pack.
this has several strong points:
1) i will finish 40 miles today, because without my gear i must make it all the way to the van.
2) i lose 12+ lbs of gear, decreasing the strain on my tendon
3) my legs still get the benefit of 80 miles in two days, with 20,000+' of gain and loss.
when i arrive at the road christian introduces me to devon and victor, the other two runners, and tells me, "sure," he can hold onto my bag. it turns out that he works about a mile from my friend's apartment in atlanta, so retrieving it later this week shouldn't be a problem.

ok, life is better. now instead of 40 miles, i have 29 to go. and no heavy pack. and the weather is fine. life is good. enjoy it and soak in the training benefit!

cruising south from woody gap i collect some water and spend 30 seconds wiping the cold wet all over my head and neck. ah, that feels good on this hot spring? afternoon.
still, 29 miles is 29 miles, and it's already noon. after gooch gap i remove my shoes and soak my knee in a cold creek. it is feeling better without the extra weight on it. two college students hike past, and one inquires after my new balance 152's. he says he wore the same shoes in his first marathon recently, but he is incredulous that i wear them on the trails. i tell him yes, they are magnificent trail shoes, and i have run 100 miles in them. he says he'll do his first ultra at the peachtree city 8 hour in may. i commend him on his well roundedness, since here he is out on the trails, preparing for an 8 hour race on a track!

now i return to the roller coaster of cooper, horse, hightower, and unnamed gaps. man these are tough! the sun hits my neck and i think about applying the tiny sunscreen tube i brought....but i procrasinate and end up never doing it (today my redneck proves it). i begin to tire, but arriving at three forks i can almost smell the barn. 12.5 miles to go and it is cooling off. i remember to eat and drink, but really i am burning mostly fat at this pace. my 200 lb frame surely is burning at least 6000 calories/day out here, and i'm only taking in 2000.

i reach springer mountain a few minutes before sunset. and there is a hopeful thru hiker sitting there alone with the beautiful scenery. I inquire about his plans, and he tells me he plans to hike both the AT and PCT this year. the first half of the AT now, then out west to do the whole PCT with his girlfriend, and then back to finish the AT. I take a picture for him with the sunset and the terminus plaque, and wish him the best of luck. what an adventure he is setting out on!

i pass a couple more hikers making their way to the springer mountain shelter, and then the sun sets and i am alone on the trail. i keep the headlamp in the fanny pack for an hour, enjoying the night vision. i pick up my pace, realizing i have a shot at finishing this return trip in the same time the outward bound trip took. i take off my shirt and glide through the woods in the slightly cool night breeze. it is freakin great! green eyes are startled by me 40 feet ahead, and the fox or bobcat scurries off.

the last 2 miles are more steeply downhill and a little more technical, so i give in and turn on the headlamp around 9pm. i won't quite do the return in the 13:01 it took me to go out.
my feet hurt for the last few miles, but aside from that i wouldn't mind going on. i still limp slightly from the knee tendon, but long ago stopped thinking about it. finally i am on the gravel road down the mountain. i turn on my cell phone (while i am up high and have coverage) to tell my parents i am safe.

at 9:28pm i walk up to the ranger station and put a dollar bill in the coke machine. although the sign says the drinks are sixty cents....i get a mr. pibb and 70 cents in return!
i walk over to the car and say, "thank you," to no one in particular.

what a weekend, how fun to walk!
carl

projects

2009-03-03T18:36:00.000-08:00

foot traffic:
barkley - t-minus one month!
training to include 7 day 230 mile hike next week. intense.
(fueled by 2 lbs each of: peanuts, raisins, granola, beef jerky, skittles, and hershey's chocolate)
(i am gonna be dieing for a freakin hamburger!)

machine/inventor shop:
carbon fiber brake levers - lighter than campy, and for small hands. almost done.
carbon fiber trekking poles - under 4 oz. each, adjustable from 30"-50". still prototyping.
titanium/carbon fiber pedals - the idea has merit, gotta prototype. exciting.

actually getting paid for:
laser assisted machining research - prove that if you are cutting really hard metals then you can save money by hitting them with a laser just before they're cut...softening them and allowing them to be cut faster and with cheaper tooling.

fun busy times in laniak world.
deboomp, woman!
anybody know benial haley?

brothers

2009-02-13T09:04:00.000-08:00

well here's what the laniak boys are up to, sans jobs, plus passion.

todd's distributor, etc, for the mustang

scott throwing down

carbon fiber project prototypes

carbon fiber project

under the water at watson mill....feb 12, 2009

scott checks out the barkley chaps.

not stopping at the fun run

2009-01-12T11:42:00.000-08:00

lest i attempt to lose focus.

i need to remind myself that last year i was focused on this "failure" for 5+ months beforehand.

let's get on the training and mental prep!

new year

2009-01-04T06:12:00.000-08:00

the year started with a couple bicycle rides, one with ashley in greenville, on a cold clear day, and one in athens, in nasty wet cold - if not for frozen toes, this one would have been extra enjoyable too...

late friday night i got the urge to visit the AT. my old standby weekend run during college was from Woody Gap to Neels Gap and back, a 22.6 mile round trip that offered two trips over Blood Mountain, Georgia's second highest peak.

sitting in my room at 11pm, i decided i might want to do this run tomorrow, so i pulled out my ipod, only to find that this was my old ipod that had been fried a year or two ago in the rain. I'd held on to it, hoping it might dry out and be ok, but after a few months i gave up hope. well holy craziness, i plugged it in and it worked! even more craziness, the songs on there were the ones i used to listen to on this section of the AT, and i've since lost the CD's. I knew i was meant to head back north of dahlonega and run.

in the morning, i stopped for some breakfast and grabbed 3 snickers bars at a gas station. I started the run with an empty water bottle and some iodine tablets. the fog and mist were dense. views from big cedar mountain were limited to the 50 foot sight distance into the fog. the upside to this was that there was no excuse to slow down.

i believe the fastest i've run this route is 4:05, and since i've been running less with a heel injury for the past month, i was really just hoping to feel ok and maybe run around 4:30. I took off down big cedar and a couple miles later filled up my water bottle from a spring. i enjoyed remembering all the landmarks on the run. remembering which slight hills were usually runnable and which ones were too steep or tough to be worth powering through. heading up blood mountain the first time i passed a few hikers, feeling for them with their heavy packs. i figure some of them must switch to trail running after seeing us zoom by?

at the top the fog was still all encompassing, and several groups of hikers were chilling out (literally) on the rocks. i can remember the first time nick and i attempted to hike the GA section of the AT alone (when we were 14) and spent a FROZEN WINDY HELLACIOUS night in the stone cabin at the top of Blood Mountain.

Heading down towards neels gap i started to pass all the day hikers who use neels gap as the trailhead for a hike up and down blood mountain. a few times i was slowed for large groups, including one boy scout or church group that must have had 30 people. i guess they didn't know that groups in wilderness areas are recommended to be 10 or less!? oh well. the kids were hilarious, you had the annoying one who kept repeating "i am robert LOJA" in a crazy voice, and you had the annoyable one who was yelling at the other one to "shut up!" it was straight up bret barkelew versus glenn matthews from my boy scouting days. i got a great chuckle out of them. i have no doubt the annoyable one burst in to tears later in the hike.

this downhill, on the east side of blood mountain was easily the highlight of the speed session from the day. I was flying down the slick muddy and rocky trail, thoroughly enjoying the concentration and speed. man i love trails like this! it helped that i had some sweet techno/dance music playing in the background.

when i reached neels gap i ate a snickers and finished off my first water bottle, i went inside the walisi-yi center and tried to get some water, but the sinks were turned off for the winter. oh well, i would just have to wait. there were a bunch of hikers and cyclists resting in the parking lot, so i turned around and left them to do the resting....

i chugged up the initial climb to flat rock gap, and then really turned uphill again. I smoked this uphill section for quite a while. i repassed the scout/church group, and heard one kid telling the other that it's illegal in new york city, on tuesday's to eat a chocolate ice cream cone, and that in florida it's illegal to leave your pet crocodile tied to a fire hydrant, but alligators are ok. cracked me up again.

i sped up the mountain, running as much as possible. i passed the spot on the granite where i once happened across a rattle snake on a cool overcast day. i remember thinking he must be dead, because he wasn't moving when i got close, but when i touched his tail he got upset. it was such a cool day that i knew he didn't have much motion in him.

over the top again, and started cruising down the other side. passing even more hikers and enjoying the techinical downhill again. when i finally got to the base, i ate another snickers, filled up my water bottle again (long overdue) and decided to wait for a specific gap before i drank it, early enough that i would keep from getting really dehydrated, but late enough that it would give the iodine time to disinfect the water. i held it together for 15-20 minutes, and then took a chug. I was still feeling good, and hoping to keep to the sub 4:30 plan. of course i don't look at my watch, but i was just hopeful.

another few miles and i passed a father/son out hiking, they asked how far i was going, so i told them 22 miles and wished them a happy day in the fog.

getting the water back in me i was feeling a little better and new i could keep this pace to the end. i refilled my bottle one more time at the spring about 4 miles from the end, and ate the last snickers bar. up over big cedar mountain again, i was ready for the speed descent.

i used to seriously rip up this descent to woody gap. i have no doubt that i've put in a 5 minute mile on this rough section of trail. i absolutely love the feeling that i am simultaneously moving my legs as fast as i am capable, and finding the series of foot placements that's going to allow me to stay upright.

south side of big cedar mountain, north side of blood mountain, south side of blue mountain, panther creek boulder field, sidewinder trail in boise....these are the spots of pure, anadulterated speed and joy.

as i cruised into the trailhead, i checked my watch and found a total time of 4:08. this was very pleasing, especially since the lap times showed that i ran to neels gap in 2:01, stopped for 4 minutes, and then ran back in 2:03.

i stopped by the zaxby's in dahlonega (a tradition for me, and for james and shamus and donald, who have all been up for AT running at times in the past) and then cruised on back to athens, well satisfied with my day in the woods.

rekindling old flames in the woods and on the trails. life is good. might have to go up there next week and bring it sub 4 style? certainly doable.

2008-12-24T20:24:00.000-08:00

so, the trip out west has concluded.
back in athens the next order of business is livelihood.

enrolling at Athens Tech for the winter so that i have access to a full machine shop just 10 miles from home.

time to prototype some bicycle component ideas and hopefully come up with something that's worth manufacturing.

any ideas are welcome.
carl dot laniak at gmail.com

commentary on life:
i used to think the only universal human truth is greed.

deepak chopra apparently said that people are going to do their best, given their level of awareness.

so, is this the path towards hope?

it's so important to desire new experiences beyond our comprehension because they expand awareness and make our "best" better.

decompressing

2008-11-13T16:25:00.001-08:00

final trip report to follow soon....
for now mother road experience here:
carllaniak.blogspot.com
peace
carl

idaho to montana, and back!

2008-10-19T20:57:00.000-07:00

the camper van~

crooked river trail, ID

first view of BIG SKY

Missoula Valley from Rattlesnake Rec Area

montana snowflake

over the edge? on stuart's peak trail

bull trout pulled by a rooster tail from the blackfoot!

ready to run along hungry horse!

le grizz finish

getting out the warm clothes bag

south fork, flathead r.

the race report you haven't been waiting for...

2008-10-14T23:39:00.000-07:00

The race report you haven’t been waiting for, and the one you’d expect, too.

Some of you may recognize that I am borrowing part of the subject line from one of our other posters. It struck me that there could be no better title, so I hope he doesn’t mind that I use it, even though my reasons are different.

Before you get excited, the race report one would expect:

On Saturday, oct 11th I had a great time with like minded crazies up at hungry horse reservoir near hungry horse, Montana.

I had always had a desire to visit Montana, it was the first place I ever thought, “hey, that sounds like my kind of place.” I was really young. Like not even 10 years old, I would guess. So when I found myself in Idaho for the past couple months, I decided there could be no time better than the present to head up to big sky country, and run the Le Grizz 50.

Well, my training has been stellar, and I was excited after doing some fishing and running near Missoula on my way up.

I started the race with about 6-8 of the 90 starters ahead of me, and I figured that given the fact that I am in the best shape of my life, a PR of 7:50 was a reasonable goal. In my hopes, I thought 7:20-7:30 was reasonable, and anything under 7 hours would be a great accomplishment.

It was a cold morning, right below freezing, so luckily not cold enough that I had to wear long pants. I cruised a little uncomfortably to the 10 mile mark in 1:24. the first aid station (a water jug) appeared at 12 miles, and then finally at 17 miles I got my first calories of the run. I was holding it together there for the first bit, because I had guessed there would be Gatorade at the 12 mile mark….but it was ok. I hit 20 miles in 2:50. This equated to a steady 7:05 finish time. I was happy and thought if things went well I could maintain and nail my 7:20-7:30 goal.

At halfway, I glanced at my watch and had sped up. Hitting 25 miles in 3:30.

Each aid station I would drink 3-5 small cups of coke, grab a bite of beef jerky, and fill up my water bottle with Gatorade. These aid stations occur at 17, 27, 32, 37, 41, and 47 miles.

I should mention that the scenery at hungry horse is phenomenal and at 25 miles the sun came out, to expose some more views, and to get things slightly above freezing.

30 miles was hit in 4:12, and 40 miles in 5:42.

At this point I started to think about sub 7. I needed to run the last 10 in under 78 minutes to get there, but I was keeping things together well, and thought I’d shoot for it. When I hit the dam with 3 miles left the aid station folks said I was in 3rd place, which was exciting, and I looked across the dam, asking, “but I’m not gonna get #2 because I don’t see him?!?!” they replied that there was no chance of that happening. However I needed the last 3 miles in under 27 minutes or so to make sub 7, so I took right off. Coming in to the finish at 6:56 I was well pleased with my efforts. I knew I saved some in the tank for mother road, but was still pleased with my fitness and the confidence/experience running sub 7 gave me.

The post race festivities were fun, and delicious, although it was freakin freezing when the sun went down!!! I actually ran (jogged) 49.9 of the 50 miles. Very cool. I am almost an ultrarunner!

Unfortunately I had to leave before the awards ceremony because I only had one offer of a ride back to my vehicle at the start, 50 miles away. I hope everyone enjoyed their time!

Now the story you didn’t see coming:

I camped out Saturday night and did some easy fishing Sunday. Then I headed a few miles down the road to the spotted bear campground and had a nice fire before camping again. Monday morning I had decided I would stretch the legs out by hiking to Spotted Bear Mountain and the Lookout on the way. I was nervous about grizzly bears, but many of the Montanans had stifled my main concerns, so I decided if I wanted to see the real Montana I was gonna have to climb up some mountains. This 13 mile round trip was a gorgeous hike, and the skies cleared while I was up at the peak for just a bit. I took some nice video and photos of the views, and made my way down. This peak was around 7500 feet, certainly no 14er, just a nice day hike.

I then drove the 50 miles down the lake to hungry horse and treated myself to a big dinner at the grill. Next I headed several miles back into the woods, to camp at the trailhead for the climb of Great Northern Mountain, which I believe is the highest in the immediate area, and tops out at 8560 ft.

This morning, (Tuesday) I awoke and lay in the comfy minivan camp til nearly 10am and then scrounged up a large cookie for breakfast. I packed my daypack with a couple top layers, some waterproof pants, my gps, a camera and video camera, my compass, map, an extra hat, some gloves, 2 sandwiches and 2 bottle of water, along with a couple other odds and ends.

This hike is a 8 mile round trip, but climbs and descends more than 4500 feet. 1000’ per mile is a serious slope, so I knew this one would be tough, but worth it.

The first 1.5 miles is straight up from hungry horse creek to the ridge, it climbed almost 3,000’ – that is steep! 2,000’/mile. For OVER a mile.

Next I traversed the ridge leading towards Great Northern. The peak hidden in the clouds, but I could see the route up pretty high, and figured if things cleared at all towards noon I might go all the way. Above tree line the trail is really on the edge of the ridge, and the sub freezing winds were something to contend with, the views were expansive, and although I was high up, I was ready to extend my comfort zone a little, heck, I was in grizzly country and alone up high! The ground was covered in a light snow, so that the path was visible, and really with the ridge as sharp as it is, there is only one direction to go anyway.

I continued upwards, and began getting views of the steep snow slopes on the northeast side of the mountain, along with the sparsely snow covered western basin of scree. I traversed the ridge, higher and higher, finally needing to kick in for foot holds in the snow. I came to the pinnacle, only to realize that the clouds were still obscuring the peak, some 300 feet above me. I was really happy to be at the top since the snow and wind was at the edge of my comfort zone, but here, the sun came through and assured me I was almost there. I said, “awe shucks” and continued up. Another 150 feet and I came to a spot where continuing seemed dangerous. There was 10-12 feet of snow covered trail without handholds, and it was exposed to the steep scree/snow field below, surely over 1000 feet to the basin.

I took one step and decided it was not worth the risk. I came down several steps and pulled out my camcorder to record the moment. I stated that I was nearly to the top, probably only 150 vertical feet, but “life is good, and it would be best to keep it that way.” Then I said I would head down, with the comment that, should I see a better approach there might still be a summiting today.

I descended about 80 vertical feet ( I know this because my gps was tracking me) and then I looked back up, only to realize that right next to my previous route there was a safe looking way up. The skies cleared, and I turned back upwards. I quickly regained the ground I had descended, and was up and over the obstacle.

However, as soon as I was over it, I found myself in a precarious spot. What had looked stable from below was nothing of the sort. I instinctively pressed all four limbs against the snow/rocks, and tried to evaluate my best course of action.

As I thought, the snow underneath my feet slipped, I looked down and saw the thousands of feet of scree below me. I looked for a hand hold, but saw none, then the snow slipped 6 inches, and before I knew it, I was starting to slide. I said, “oh shit” and tried to grab anything, but nothing held. I was sledding down a steep snow and rock face, gaining speed. I bumped and slid, so fast that I couldn’t keep up with what was happening. I desperately tried to arrest my fall using my feet and hands.

The thought in my mind was, “you are going to break your legs, and, IF you maintain consciousness you are going to freeze to death up here tonight. More likely you will crack your head open and die without knowing what happened.” It was a terrible feeling. My speed increased and I felt certain I would start to tumble and have my body broken.

Somehow I stayed vertical, head up, feet down, although I have injuries on my front and back sides, so I’m not sure of my orientation throughout the fall.

Amazingly I hit a bump and my speed diminished just enough that at the next bump my body stopped. Wow, I am trembling a little as I write this.

I couldn’t believe I had stopped. I immediately felt my limbs and realized that while I was banged up really bad, nothing was broken. I still cannot believe that is true.

I was light headed, but had no head injuries, my adrenaline was on full force. I panted and tried to compose myself, knowing that passing out was not an option. As I tried to compose myself I tried to figure out what I could do.

I looked up, down, left and right. “O fuck, I am alive, but even my best effort isn’t going to keep me that way,” was my thought.

I was very precipitously perched on a spot that was incredibly unsafe, I felt as though at any moment my dazed state was going to betray me and send me careening off again, to sure death. I felt my left leg bleeding, but knew that getting to a safer spot had to be the #1 priority, because falling again was the worst possible thing. Even worse that an open artery. I felt as though several of my finger tips were broken, but I had gloves on, and with the adrenaline I couldn’t be sure. My elbows and butt were beaten, but not broken. Amazingly my head was still attached and unscathed.

I turned over and began to move, my first thought was to traverse the slope, maintaining my elevation. This quickly proved harrowing. I tried kicking in to the snow, but there was nothing below me to hold. I had fallen 300 vertical feet (again, mr gps was happily clicking away in my bag, not that I pulled it out to check!!!)

I thought to myself, as soon I had perched myself on a spot where I could think, “ok, you are alive, so you must give it your best effort, but the likelihood is that you are going to fall again. There is no good way out of this one.” Despite the negative tone I began searching for a route. I could only see 20-30 feet above me, because some large slabs blocked the view up to the ridge, I really had no idea how far I’d fallen, just that I needed to get back to the ridge and safety.

Every step was an effort, I would kick in for a foot hold, only for the snow or scree to fall away just before I trusted it. Then I’d dig with my hands or a rock to find another spot. After traversing 20 feet I was stopped, I reluctantly went back, to find another route.

I looked down. “hell no.”

I looked right. “hell no.”

I knew up was the only way, but there was nowhere to go. I went anyway, fully expecting to slip and die. I really didn’t want to fall, but I couldn’t fathom a reality where I made it safely. I couldn’t even SEE my destination!

I went up and around and back down, and up. All so slowly it was unreal. I still really can’t believe I am alive. It doesn’t make sense. Many times it would take minutes to find the next possible movement.

It was freezing cold and the wind was howling, my fingers were barely functional, and at times they were holding me almost exclusively. My left leg was dripping blood into the snow, and my shoe was red. My mind was lucid, so I knew I wasn’t loosing that much blood, but when I got to one safe spot I took out my water bottle and guzzled. I knew if I lost blood, fluid would be necessary, and why die because I was dehydrated?!

I ate a bite of my sandwich here too, but figured with all the stress on the system there was little chance that my stomach would be functioning to transport of the sugar to my muscles. I looked around, wishing I’d brought my cell phone. In the woods all week the phone didn’t work, but here at 8,000’ I could see the town of Hungry Horse 20 miles away….sure the phone would’ve allowed me to get some help. I thought about that for a minute….how I really would hate to put people out just because I over stepped my abilities in a risky venture, but if I’d had the option, I would have called in a heartbeat.

I kept moving, even if it was only back and forth. I was concerned that my fingers would go numb and I’d lose the chance to climb. I didn’t know how long the adrenaline would last, and that was definitely the only thing going for me now. If it wore off and I got cold, my chances would go from zip to zilch.

I started up again, looking for anything worth trying, I figured I was a goner, but it was my right as a living being to give it a freakin try, as hard as it was.

Finally, after a long time, I saw my foot prints from earlier. They were 25 feet above me. I didn’t realize it, but I had been trying to rescue myself for over two hours. From the time I slipped until I saw my prints was from 1:49pm til 3:50pm. All that for 300 vertical feet.

I still didn’t think I could possibly make it safely. It was another 10-12 foot sheet of snow on loose scree. I was so close. But so far. I tried to reign in the enthusiasm, once almost going a step too quickly. I said to myself, outloud, “whoa buddy, you are this close, don’t die now!” I almost chuckled, but took an extra moment to compose myself, then stepped. Two more steps and I was back on my original path.

I looked up and saw the peak through the clouds. “ok, now the shit starts.” I thought to myself.

I was damaged, winded, exhausted, amazed, and still riding the uncomfortable adrenaline high that made me a little light headed. I began descending.

Throughout the descent I came to areas that had seemed reasonable on the way up, but now in my altered frame of mind I wished I’d been way more cautious on the way up. Every step over a slip point made me think that I needed to be on my “A” game, if I wanted to get out with my life. I just kept moving, watching the blood drip out of my pants leg, and hoping that I would make it safely.

After another harrowing hour on the ridge in the snow and wind, I got to the tree line and out of the wind. I had thought to myself that this would be the spot to eat and drink, to keep myself from passing out on the steep (although MUCH safer) descent through the trees. I ate and drank ravenously of my pbj and water. I then got out my video camera, something I was loathe to do when I was on the marginally safe ridge line. I panned up to the peak, and described my ordeal, breathing hard and still unable to believe that I wasn’t lying somewhere below with broken legs, freezing to death.

I closed the clip with the comment, “thank god I’m alive.”

Now I really wanted to be down. I thought about cleaning my wounds and perhaps getting a hotel for the night, considering the circumstances. I wondered about grizzlies smelling the blood and hunting me while I descended. Needless to say I made a bunch of noise to dissuade them from this!

After 5 o’clock I got back to the car. Now removed my long pants, and saw a quagmire of dried and wet blood from a gaping wound just below my knee cap. I realized quickly that it would be in my best interest to have a professional deal with this, so I pinched the wound shut with my left hand, while I drove the 18 miles of forest service road to the town. I met a FS ranger and asked where the closest doctor was, and headed there. They were closing, and since I was walking and had driven myself they sent me down the street.

In my current shape I really looked like a crazy person who had attacked himself with a chainsaw. My leg was completely covered in dried blood, and my torn clothes and wild hair helped the illusion.

I made it to the urgent care center this side of Whitefish, and managed to make my way inside to a room.

The nurses were exceptional. They cleaned and cleaned and I just sat there telling them I couldn’t believe I was alive and I didn’t care how much they scrubbed the wounds and gave me shots, because anything felt better than the thought of freezing to death with broken limbs.

After 12 stitches and plenty of scrubbing, I was set to go, but then I removed my shirt and found another gaping wound on my elbow. This one had hurt, but didn’t bleed as much so I didn’t realize it was so deep.

That one got sewn up and then I paid and was on my way. It was now dark. This was about 4 hours ago, now as I write.

I filled up my gas tank, wobbled into walmart and grabbed ointment and bandaids, and then stopped at papa johns.

While I was in the ER, I talked to my brother, and he listened to my tale as I drove to my errands. I felt like I should tell my parents in the morning, since that might ease the stress I’m sure they’ll feel. I called my friends in Idaho, and said I might come home a little earlier than expected, but really, my Montana fishing license doesn’t expire for 4 more days, and THAT’s relatively safe, right?

So, there’s my story. It is what it is.

I was at the edge of my comfort zone, in a risky situation, and I nearly paid for it with my life. I have always said that I liked ultrarunning because you get to “push yourself” in a relatively safe way, and I wondered why mountain climbers went so far and high to push themselves. Now of course most climbers are smart and don’t push the odds, and they earn experience and knowledge over time, so I’m not saying climbing is over risky, it’s just not my favorite hobby, and maybe I’ll respect its dangers a little more from now on. I sure wouldn't do it the same all over again, and I hope some of you will take a lesson from the Bearenstein Bears, "this is what you should not do."I imagine i'll take some gentle and some harsh critisism, but like I said, it is what it is....

It’s good to be alive.

Carl

From the super 8 in Kalispell….

The return

2008-09-12T11:02:00.000-07:00

Day 9 (ride day 6)
On Tuesday morning, I thanked Scott for the unbelievable hospitality, and took his advice for a route that would take me 130 miles up to Portland. This ride would bring me through the Willamette River Valley, highlighting many of the areas farms, orchards and vineyards, and hopefully delivering me to Champeog State Park, just south of Portland.

Well, this trip did not disappoint. Scott started the ride with me and rode the first 12-15 miles up to the north end of Eugene, vastly improving the safety and efficiency of my trip through the city. It is much easier to stay on the less congested streets when you know where they are.
As I got out of town, the route snaked its way back and forth across the river, and several times I missed turns. Fortunately I had my gps, so I could zoom in on the smaller roads and find shortcuts back to my route. I enjoyed this aspect of the trip immensely because if every navigational error I made had resulted in backtracking the trip would have been much less enjoyable.
The steepest hill of the entire trip was on a road called Orchard Heights, the climb was probably only 2-3 miles long, but it was definitely an effort to keep pumping the pedals. I was a little frustrated with the difficulty on the way up, but once I reached the summit I looked out over the valley and across the river at Salem, OR….it was WORTH IT. What a view!

The descent was also a great reason to have climbed so high. This road was so smooth that 40+ mph felt relatively safe. Some roads, due to their roughness would make 25 mpg feel dangerous, but not this one. As I neared the bottom I was really getting thirsty and wanted to get to the next town for a late lunch. I checked out the gps and found a short cut. After going a mile down this shorter route I encountered the reason for the suggested course taking a long cut….there was a very steep, ¾ mile long gravel road to negotiate. I contemplated turning around, but decided I would give it a shot, even on the tiny road bike tires I was rolling on. It was hairy. A local went by in a pickup and literally laughed at me out his window. I kept going down, slamming on the brakes the whole way, just to stay in moderate control. When I reached the bottom I got all excited about that little mini-adventure, screaming out in happiness that it had worked out.
A little way down the road I found a self-serve road side pear stand, where I deposited a Quarter and took a nice ripe pear to enjoy. A couple miles later I came into a small town and had a personal pizza at the local pizza shop. I also grabbed Gatorade and batteries at the gas station. After enjoying a 20 minute conversation with my brother Todd, I headed out again.
The next waypoint was a crossing of the river on a Ferry. I was curious to find out whether or not and how often the ferry was running. It was after 5 o’clock and I figured I might have missed my shot. Not the case, as soon as I rolled down the hill the ferry was hitting our shore, and within 2 minutes I was on the boat, and found that bicycles and pedestrians crossed free of charge!

The river was only a hundred yards wide, so I was quickly off on the other side and riding again. The next couple of hours were riding through a bunch of fields of hops. These plants, that I only recognize from beer commercials, grow on strings strung straight up 20 feet in the air. Every 15-20 minutes a truck would go by piled high with the vines and the road was literally scattered with them. It was during this stretch that I first noticed Mt. Hood, 100 miles to the north east. The haze of 100 miles meant the image wasn’t clear, but I could make out the profile of this awesome mountain. It was very cool to notice it.

After a while I ended up at the last convenience store of the day, and ate several snacks and grabbed my extra Gatorade for the evening/morning. 5 more miles brought me to the state park, with a solid 45 minutes of light left. For the first time on a camping day I was treated to a shower. As an added bonus this state park had a hiker/biker specific campsite that only cost $4, more than reasonable. I enjoyed this evening, with the hot shower and comfy temperatures.
Day’s Mileage: 120 Miles
Cumulative Mileage: 755

Day 10 (ride day 7)
This day began with a nice shower again…why not? Then I packed my things and got underway around 7 am. The first miles were on a side hwy, and I really had no great plan for how to enter and cross Portland. My Oregon cycling map, that Scott had given me, showed that it was legal to ride on the interstates, except for in downtown Portland and a couple other spots around the state. So when I reached the freeway, I turned onto it, just to see how it was. Well, it was before rush hour, and really the freeway felt safe. The breakdown lane was very wide, and the debris on the side of the road wasn’t so thick that it bothered the ride. I cruised along at 20 mph for a number of miles, hoping for a good breakfast spot to pop up. I found a spot on the map one exit before bike riding became prohibited, and decided to shoot for that. Before I reached it though, the traffic picked up such that it was annoying to wait at the entrance ramps for the streams of cars to allow me passage, and the exit ramps felt less than safe…with the discrepancy in speed between the cars and I. I resigned myself to dismounting for these intersections, and walking safely across them, but then someone drove by and screamed at me to get off the freeway. I am sure that I was legally riding there, but the animosity shook me up just enough that I decided to get off and find a surface street route. Luckily there was a McDonalds at the bottom of the ramp and I thoroughly enjoyed a large breakfast. This was one of only two trips to fast food restaurants on the whole trip, and although I ate a lot of junk at gas stations, I did attempt to eat at least one meal a day at a café or diner where I could get some salad and veggies.
Unfortunately the surface streets I chose to navigate were much worse than the interstate had been. After a couple miles of bike lanes, I entered a 10 mile stretch where the shoulder was non-existent and the school buses were passing every couple of minutes. I don’t like being the bicycle holding up traffic, but I didn’t have any better ideas for this section, so that’s what happened. Next I came to 172nd street, which was closed for road work. Lucky me got to take a long detour up over a really big hill. Then I finally got on the greenway that I had been shooting for for about an hour, and within a mile there was a bridge out for repair. This detour was even worse, I went at least 6-7 miles out of the way. The road was nice though, and despite the fact that I thought I’d be all the way across Portland by now I was in decent spirits. Reaching the greenway again I found another section closed and navigated my way around by asking several locals for help. Then I finally, after a solid 50 miles across Portland, arrived in Troutdale, the start point of the Columbia River Scenic Highway.
Now, the Columbia River Gorge is known far and wide as a stellar area, and it did not disappoint. As a cyclist you have the option of riding on historic hwy 30 in Oregon, interstate 84, also in Oregon, and hwy 14, across the river in Washington. The interstate offers the flattest ride, while the Oregon hwy passes through several small towns, and the Washington road is fairly deserted.

I first chose the Oregon hwy since that’s where I was standing. The first 10 miles or so are a steady climb to a small town. This climb was tougher than I hoped, but when I reached the lip of the gorge the view was again worthwhile. I could see Mt. Hood, much closer now, as well as the river at least 1000 feet below, and all the way off into Washington. Continuing on, I started the awesome descent to the water. This was surely the most scenic descent on the trip….several state parks and viewing areas were positioned on the hill, most prominently Crown Point. There were also many spectacular waterfalls along the road, some of them falling hundreds of feet from the lip of the gorge.

After the most awe-inspiring of these falls I caught up to another bicycle tourer in his mid-fifties named Christopher. He told me that we were at the very end of the touring season, and that only 2 weeks ago the gorge was teeming with cyclists. We road together for a good 40 minutes, where the hwy merged with the interstate momentarily, and stopped at a hydroelectric dam because he recommended a visit. After a short visit to the dam, where we saw a fish hatchery and a pool of Sturgeons, I thanked him for the tour guiding, and headed on my way. For the next hour and a half I cranked my way down the gorge at 20+mph, due to the great tailwind, and ended up in the town of Hood River. This place is a hot spot for kiteboarding and windsurfing because in the summer months there is a nearly constant 25mph wind going through the gorge. I had a burrito and a local Full Sail Ale, and went into the local bike shop to top off the pressure in my tubes.

Heading out I decided that since the last bridge to Washington for quite a while was just ahead, I would go over and try that road out.
Unfortunately the bridge was closed to pedestrians and cyclists, so I stood there for a few minutes waiting for a truck with a man driving to come along. As soon as one did I stuck my thumb out and the driver obliged me a ride across the bridge. This guy told me that it was fairly recently that the closed the bridge to bikes, and that the next bridge, some 50 miles east, was closed for repairs. He lamented that I wouldn’t get to see the “real” Washington, because I wasn’t headed up to the forests, so I promised that someday I would make it up that way. After thanking him and jumping down out of the Dodge 3500, I began pedaling again.

I reached a small town after another hour or so, and stocked up on my regular calories. Then I looked at the map and tried to figure out where I might camp. Basically the road stayed close to the river, and there was a cliff on my left, and the railroad on my right, with only a few feet of brush and no good camping spots. The first state park I came to, where I hoped I might camp, was just a windsurfing spot, and prohibited camping. I worried a little but then continued on. A few miles down the road I came across Horse Thief Lake State Park, and I happily cruised downhill to the campground. When I arrived, I found a windy area with a bathroom and no showers. Plus a $12 camping charge. What a rip! Oh well, there didn’t seem to be any other options, so I set up camp, and was reprimanded for being 20 feet outside of my zone by a ranger. I then headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Imagine my excitement when I found that there WAS a shower in there. I quickly stripped off my clothes and ran into the stall. Now, imagine my dejectedness when I realized that the shower was a quarter machine, with a $0.75 cost. I ran back to my campsite and dug through everything to find…..2 quarters.

So I walked over to the outdoor water faucet and took my aquafina bottle with me. This shower had the double bonus of cold water AND windy weather. I hurried as best I could, and enjoyed going back over to brush my teeth. Being clean of the road grime I picked up was always worth freezing water.
Walking out of the bathroom, I found a couple that was motorcycle touring. They were having a couple budlights, which I almost asked them to share. Instead, they chatted me up for a solid 30 minutes about who I was and what I was up to. It was a fun conversation. Victoria, the woman, tried her best to get me to come up to Spokane and meet a girl she was opening a bistro with, apparently she is a big excerciser and a triathlete. I said if I ever got up that way I would look them up on route 2 just north of the city. They also gave me some great info….tomorrow morning I might have another 80 miles on no breakfast situation brewing. Doh! I had 2 bottles of Gatorade, but they insisted that I take some beef jerky and cheese sticks, recommending that I “drink plenty of water.” They were great folks, I hope I run into them someday up in Spokane.
Hitting the hay was great this night, the stars were great, I was clean, and the wind was dying down.
Day’s Mileage: 140 Miles
Cumulative Miles: 895

Day 11 (ride day 8)
Waking up at 6:30 I was ready to go, and I even started thinking about the end of the trip. Luckily 14 miles down the road there was a little cabin with biscuits and gravy on the breakfast menu. These two folks had just opened a little store, with a tiny consignment shop and a little café. The only thing available for breakfast was muffins and the aforementioned biscuits and gravy. Since I believed I had 65 more miles to get food again I happily waited while captain Ron bumbled around the kitchen microwaving my breakfast. I have no doubt that this store will be out of business soon, which is sad, but these folks had no idea what they were doing. I wished them the best and headed out, a little miffed that it had taken over 40 minutes to eat a simple meal, but happy to have had it anyway. Another ways down the road I found out that the bridge I had been told was out for repairs was actually still open for 3 more days, so I took the opportunity to return to the more inhabited Oregon.

I crossed over to Biggs, OR and continued on my way. A couple hours down the road I pulled off of an I-84 exit and got a pint of my new favorite Ben and Jerry’s flavor….Half Baked. Just like my trip it was awesome. When I reached a rest area in Boardman, OR I stopped for a bathroom break and was surprised to find a senior citizen’s club set up in a little camper offering coffee, lemonade and cookies to travelers. I thanked them for the hospitality and answered their questions about my trip. One of them asked, “what do you do about cabbage hill? Do you just walk it?” I told them I had not had to walk up a hill yet, but if that’s what it took I would do it. I inquired about the hill and they told me it was a 15 mile continuous climb up to the plateau east of Pendleton. With the new found knowledge that there was a beast of a hill that “the semi’s have real trouble with.” I headed out again, destined for Pendleton.
I arrived, after a long down hill to the Umatilla River in Pendleton, where I got a foot long subway sandwich and some cookies and soda. After a couple phone calls to family I saddled up and started looking for the climb. It was my intention to climb the whole thing without putting my foot down, if possible.
Cabbage hill, as they call it, really is a beast. Luckily my legs and lungs were able to metronome their way to the top, and I even snapped a couple shots of the view west as I climbed. The late afternoon sun was heading downwards as I climbed, so the view was spectacular.

When I reached Dead Man’s Pass, I stopped at the rest area, where I quickly made my way to the vending machines. I got a mountain dew and then turned around to find a huge dude standing behind me. This guy, whose eastern European accent and facial structure gave him away, peppered me with questions about what I was up to, and “Do you carry weapon?”
I uneasily said that no, I could take care of myself without anything more than a knife. He told me that for the bears and lions he would carry a gun. I asked where he was from and he told me he was Ukranian. I said, “seriously, my name is Laniak, my great grandfather came from Ukraine.” We hit it off even better now….He told me, “I have Russian name, Babinov!”
When he asked me how I kept going all day I showed him my mountain dew and said, “rocket fuel!”
Since I’d finished my snacks I bade my new friend goodbye, and pedaled eastward.
On the next stretch of road, way up in the hills, I noticed that there was a side road paralleling the interstate, and I decided to try it. Wow! It was out there. After a while I was well out of ear shot of the highway, and began thinking if it weren’t for the bears up here this really would be a great place to camp. A few miles down the road I passed a cabin. As the sun set I would not have been surprised at all if Ted Kazcynski himself walked out and struck up a conversation with me.

I was uneasy, and knew that if anyone confronted me I better exude some fake confidence, because this was not the place where folks who like lycra clad cyclists hang out. As the sun set I put on my headlamp and tail light, and made my way down a long downhill many miles to the next place where this road crossed the interstate. Now I was in the zone again, heading downhill in a controlled way, watching for any patch of gravel that might ruin my day, and keeping in mind that there was a State Park just before La Grande, down the road. I arrived at Hilgard’s Junction State Park an hour after dark, and found a campsite for $8. This time I took my shower in the sink. Luckily there was a drain in the concrete floor, so the little water and soap I used and dripped all over the floor was able to make its way out. This “shower” was pretty unsatisfying, but it was what it was, and I felt a little refreshed. I set up my camp and read my book for a while, staying up relatively late, around 10:30 I think.
The night got pretty cold, and I think the combo of it being cold and being excited about finishing the trip with a final day of 180+ miles was getting to me, so I did not sleep very well.
Day’s Mileage: 171 Miles
Cumulative Mileage: 1066 Miles

Day 12 (ride day 9)
After a few hours of restless sleep in what must have been mid thirty degree temperatures, I woke up at 3:45 and had the feeling that I was going to lay there awake til I got up. After 20 minutes of that I made the decision to just get going. I was excited to finish the trip with an extra long day, and I figured the sooner I started the more likely I’d make it home for dinner. I packed all my gear, and literally put on ALL of my clothes. Shoving off at almost 4:30 in the morning was kind of cool, I had not yet started a ride before dawn, and this was a new experience. The night was cold and dark, and the interstate was basically dead. I started the ride with an hour long downhill into La Grande, where I hoped to find a 24 hour diner for breakfast. When I rolled off the interstate and onto hwy 30 through town, things were really cool. The town was deserted, but all the business lights were on, and as I passed the Town Hall building I felt like I was back in Jasper, TN nearing the end of the Vol-State Run. I cruised through town and when my road rejoined the interstate there was a Flying-J truck stop. I locked up my bike in the pre dawn, and headed inside to warm up and snarf some breakfast.
Finishing my all American breakfast, with French Toast, I headed out again, expecting a big climb up and out of La Grande. I was not disappointed, and a couple miles down the road I was stripping a few layers off in an effort to cool down. Reaching the top of another plateau, I was again on a high elevation road with flat ground and a relatively good tailwind. Cruising along for another hour or two, I had a slight mechanical issue when I shifted into the big ring and my chain came off and twisted itself inside out. Jumping off I literally spent 20 minutes trying to figure out how to correct this mobius strip chain situation.

A rancher came by on his ATV and offered me a ride to town (which was a solid 20 miles away) but I told him I just about had it fixed up. I knew that even if I couldn’t unwrap the chain I could always disconnect and link, unwrap it and then reconnect. That method would have been giving up, and very unsatisfying. This was one of those situations where I knew what the chain had done, but I didn’t believe it was possible, so I exhausted ever OTHER possibility before I addressed my first instinct. It was an interesting waste of time, and finally I trusted my gut and man handled the chain into obedience. Ah, back on the saddle!
Cruising along again without incident for several hours, I arrived in Baker City. Here my made my second McDonald’s stop of the trip. I loaded up and headed out again, realizing that it was about 11am and I was closing in the on the last 100 miles. I believe it was aan hour down the road that I saw the first interstate “Mileage to Boise” sign, and it read 107. This perked me up and I renewed my vigor, realizing I had a slight chance of getting home before dark. I went hard through Pleasant Valley, Durkee and Weatherby, back in the high heat of the slightly lower altitudes. When I reached Huntington I was out of food and water, but I wanted to go another couple of exits before stopping for refreshment. Whoops! No services for quite a while. 20 miles further down the road I got off at the exit where I wanted to leave the interstate for good, and again…no services.

I was holding things together, but another 30 minutes would mean bonking, so I was very hopeful that the sign for an RV campground a few miles down the road would mean a chance to get some nourishment. My new friends at the campground had a refrigerator full of green powerade and cokes, so I took in about 80 oz, and left with 2 full water bottles. I was less than 80 miles from Boise, and feeling good.
I cruised on down the Snake River Valley and up and over a few hills, thinking about getting to Weiser and eating a meal. A little ways down the road I saw a sign that read, “Rough Road, next 1 mile.” In my mind I chuckled, thinking “haha, yeah right, this ain’t rough compared to where I’ve been!”
Without exaggerating, I can honestly say that that thought had not finished being thought in my brain before I heard and felt a “PFFFSSSHHHH!” directly underneath me in my rear wheel.

Almost 1200 miles without a flat tire, across some really rough roads and many patches of broken glass, and here I was with a flat less than 100 from the end. Ok, cool, this is why I brought 2 spare tubes. Let’s do it! I quickly removed the rear wheel and peeled off the tire. Shoving a new tube in I began pumping it up….only to realize that the casing of the tire was torn in several spots, and as I pumped the tire became misshapen and skewed. Doh!
I knew if I put the pressure too high I would balloon the tube out of the tire, so I settled on an intermediate pressure and hoped for the best, since I was almost 20 miles from the next town and it was getting really hot out. I began rolling extra slowly, just hoping to hold things together to the next town where I might find a new tire. I was happy but cautious, not daring to exceed 10 mph, in hopes of keeping things happy. Dang! Now I would have no shot at arriving in daylight, but of course I knew this was a great story waiting to be told. About 5 miles down the road I passed a farmer out on the edge of his field, I asked him which fork in the road I should take up ahead if I wanted to find a bike shop and he said to head to Ontario, OR, because Payette, ID probably would not have one. I thanked him and again started slowly rolling. 100 feet later the tube went again. I knew my last tube wasn’t going to get me the 14 miles to Ontario, so I walked back and asked the farmer whether he might be able to help me out.

“Could I ask you to store my bicycle for me for a day or two?” I asked, explaining my trip and my desire to finish it under my own power. Ideally, I would have asked for a ride into town, but I did not want to impose on this guy’s afternoon of work, so I figured I should just leave my bike and run it in.
Roy Munsdale obliged me some room in his barn, and I changed from my bicycle clothes to my running shorts, shirt and hat. I packed my tiny waste belt with my credit card, cell phone, passport, and camera. I knew it was less than 9 miles to Payette, Id, but Roy told me it was “70 miles to Boise from my farm.”
“Ok, I thought, here is a great chance to run really far and push yourself, while at the same time upping the ante on the story of your trip to the Pacific and back.”
I took a water bottle with me and jogged out into the late afternoon heat. Onion field after onion field passed by, and after a couple hours I was hitting the Snake River and crossing in to Idaho. I’d decided I’d wait til hitting Idaho before calling anyone to tell them I was running late. But when I got there I was so weak I decided to wait a little longer, lest I be tempted to ask Will and Diane to come retrieve me and end the effort. I stopped in a store and bought a pint of Haagen-Daas ice cream, hoping to get some serious calories and feel better. I knew if I didn’t feel better soon I could probably find a motel and finish the run the next day, but I was tired enough that waking up the next morning and have to run 100k was not the option I was looking for.
Another mile down the road I found a little sandwich shop, and walked in looking like a serious homeless person. I had road grime coating my skin, and I was really tired and weak. I ordered a hoagie and went across the street to check on prices in the little motel there. $40 a night seemed reasonable, but despite my weakness I really wanted to hold out and see if I could resurrect the situation and run all the way in tonight.
After eating my sandwich I just couldn’t fathom running 60 more miles, so I called my dad who was worried about me, and Will and Diane to let them know I was fine, but might spend the night in Payette. I sat there feeling dejected for a bit, mulling over the possible ways I could have fixed the tire on the bike, and other means of getting home without running, then went inside to maybe order another sandwich. The toughest part about thinking about continuing was knowing that I would need to go more than 30 miles without any gas stations or resupply points, all through the middle of the night. I just didn’t want to leave this motel opportunity facing a night like that.
Well, here comes good luck again, when I started inquiring about possible stores on the roads ahead the kid who made my sandwich told me that before the road got desolate there was a wal-mart and hotels off to the right about 2 miles south and 1 mile west. So here I was ready again….3 miles to a wal-mart and chance to sleep sounded a hell of a lot better than 60 miles and all night with nothing. I decided to get to wal-mart and then reassess.
Jogging down the road again I make it to wal-mart just after 8 pm. I had decided that my best course of action would be to go in wal-mart and get supplies for an all-night run to the finish. I bought a little camelback type backpack with a 2 liter fluid bag, and a handful of snickers bars and a protein drink. I also go a small LED flashlight, since I knew it would be pitch black out.
As I walked out of wal-mart, and jogged back across the Snake River, the sun did its final setting, and I settled into my work. I jogged down the sidewalk the 4 miles to the end of town, and walked into a gas station at the interstate crossing in hopes of grabbing a longsleeve shirt for the chilly night. I have spent several cold nights alone with just a t-shirt on, and I really hoped that I could avoid that biting cold and depressing situation. Lucky for me this Shell station had some, and for $15 I got a Boise State University shirt that I hoped would keep me relatively comfortable. Here I also checked a map and found that the interstate was 5 miles shorter than the back road way I was planning to travel. I knew it was illegal to walk on the interstate, but I asked the attendant if she knew whether or not it was ok here in Idaho. She answered in the negative, and I resigned myself to a longer run. Heading out I had a thought, maybe I could dial 411 and get an answer, Roy Munsdale had acted surprised when I told him I wouldn’t run on the interstate, so I had a little hope that the interstate might be a viable option.

The operator said they didn’t answer that type of question, but she asked if I’d like to be connected to the Boise police dispatch. Imagine my joy when the dispatcher told me that yes, so long as I didn’t cause a hazard to motorists it was in fact totally legal to hike on the interstate here in Idaho!
“Sweet! You just saved me 5 miles.” I said, and hung up.
Score one point for persistence and problem solving.
I started down the interstate at 10:35pm, thinking I was now about a 50 miler from home. I figured after a 120 mile bike ride and already running 15 miles, a 10 hour 50 mile would be the very best I could dream of, so I started thinking about pushing for home by 8:30 in the morning.
I figured that to maintain form I would need some walking, so I decided to run 30 minutes and walk 30 minutes while snacking. This would allow 3 miles of running and 2 miles of walking, if I could keep up the pace. I did this for an hour, but then I decided that I wanted to push things. I have been lucky enough to spend time around some of the really strong (physically and mentally) runners in our sport, and I continuously wonder what it is that makes them so good. I feel like physically I am not as talented or genetically gifted as some of the runners out there, but there should be no reason why I can’t train my mind to be just as tough as theirs.
Normally when I am in a difficult situation I try to set a reasonable goal, such as, “run 30 minutes and then you can walk.” When things get rough I will make a goal like that and usually get a little ways down the road and decide it wasn’t so reasonable after all, and start my walk at 19 minutes, for example. Well here on my run through the Idaho night I decided to do things a little differently. A few weeks earlier I had crewed for Vol State King of the Roads Kevin Dorsey, and I had been amazed by he and Tracy Thomas’s ability to keep moving even when the finish was impossibly far away and they had already brought themselves to the edge of their endurance. I decided that for me to do something similar I would have to set a reasonable goal, and then push BEYOND IT, rather than shooting for it. The next hour I ran through my 30 minute goal and on, to nearly 50 minutes.
This was a cool challenge and I believe the lessons I was learning will serve me very well at the upcoming mother road and across the years races I am attempting.
Throughout the night I attempted to keep this strength of mind up, and shoot for a good run. Just after midnight I was really getting tired, and I passed what turned out to be the only exit before the outskirts of Boise. There was a hotel. I thought how nice it would be to lay down and sleep, and I thought surely I could run less than 50 tomorrow to the finish…but then, I had worked myself up to get this thing done, so I took a pull on the Gatorade and pushed on.
I had grabbed a protein drink in wal-mart as a last minute addition to my kit, and I remembered that late at night protein was something that can help keep you alert. I took a swig of this drink about once an hour, and I would feel more alert for about 20-30 minutes….just enough to get me thinking I could make it to the next hour.
I worked on maintaining effort and only once did I stop all night. I laid down under an overpass and raised my feet against a concrete stanchion. This I learned from Dan Thompson at the vol state a few years ago, so relieve some fluid pressure from your legs and feet. Honestly, this has never really worked for me, but I was tired so I gave it a try. After about 5 minutes I got back up and continued on. I didn’t notice any real relief, probably because I was putting my mental strength into relentless forward motion….which is the only way to get somewhere.
As a side note, around 3 in the morning, with the only a truck passing every few minutes or so, I decided that since I might never get the opportunity again, I should run naked down the interstate. This I did for about 50 yards, and then hurriedly put my clothes back on. I wondered how much trouble I would get in if I was caught, but when you are on an INTERSTATE that is empty in the middle of the night you start getting ideas. I found it hilarious, and chuckled about it on and off for the rest of the night.
Around 4 in the morning I finally reached the middleton exit, where I was going to exit the highway and hopefully find some food. I was BEAT. Unfortunately the 24 hour store advertised at the interstate ended up being 4 miles towards Boise. I had less than 20 miles to go, but 4 miles to a warm place sounded daunting. I began to walk. About a mile and a half further on, I was greeted by my first cop of this all nighter. When he asked me what I was up to I told him I had a story that would take a while, but the short version was I was headed to Boise. He inquired after a little more detail, and then I bade him farewell. 50 yards further on he pulled over and said, “why don’t you get in and I’ll give you a ride?”

Well, I have never ridden in a police car, and I was definitely already dirtier than even the most vomit covered drunk, so I thought, “hell yeah I’m getting in!”
2 miles down the road I was dropped off at the 24 hour gas station, much to the nervous look of the young girl manning the register. I walked in and told her my tale, and asked whether I might rest here for a bit and drink some hot chocolate. She said her boss would be in soon, so hopefully he wouldn’t kick me out, but yeah, it was fine.
As tired as I was, and as cold as it had gotten outside, I really didn’t want to go back out, and I ended up sitting there on the convenience store floor for two and a half hours. I wondered about a taxi or calling Will and Diane, but here it was 5 in the morning, I would just have to wait. Later, I decided that at sunup I would need to head out, it was reasonable.
When light finally came, I reluctantly thanked the gas station attendant and walked out. My knee was stiff and frozen up, so when I saw a diner just opening a quarter mile later I jumped inside and thought, “whew, I wasn’t ready yet, here’s another waiting spot.”
I text messaged Will and Diane, “if you happen to wake up early and read this I am 15 miles away and I really would like a ride.”

I ate a big breakfast at the diner and then picked up the Sunday paper. I was super tired, but looking like I did I didn’t want to fall asleep and give problems to everyone who would think that there was a dead homeless guy in one of the booths.
Another 2 hours went by and I decided that surely I could manage 15 miles, I mean I was THIS CLOSE! I text messaged, “nevermind” to my friends and walked out the door. This time my knee was really screwed. I thought there might be a chance that it would loosen up, but at this pace it would take all day to cover 15 miles. As I passed the Middleton fire department, I spotted some cash on the sidewalk….$25!!! I walked inside and inquired as to whether anyone had lost some money. The answer was no, so I pocketed the bills. Nice! I had actually had a reoccurring thought throughout the trip that I was going to spy a bag full of $10,000 or so on the side of the road in the middle of the desert, and I figured that while this was no fortune, it was pretty damn cool.
Another half mile and I was really hurting on this knee. The sun was up and people were bustling about their Sunday mornings, I had a thought…..I need to find some kid who wants $25 more than he wants his bike.
I became an eagle-eye looking for garage sales or any kid with a crappy old bike I thought I might get my hands on.
About a quarter mile further down the road I spied a bike in a front yard. I wandered over and looking in the window. I teenage girl was eating cereal at the dining room table, so I knocked on the door. I inquired whether she knew who’s the bike was and if they might be willing to sell it. She said to wait and she would get her dad. I stopped her and said, “if he’s asleep then don’t worry about it, please don’t wake him up.” To which she replied that he was awake, and just wait a minute.
When Poppi came out I said, “I have a crazy story for you, but I’m wondering if you’d be willing to sell or rent me that bike.”
He looked incredulous but I have him the 30 second version of the story and offered him $25 and offered to return the bike.
He said, “you just want to borrow it and bring it back? Go ahead, take it.”
I held out the money but he insisted that I just take it.
I told him it meant a lot to me, and that I’d return it this afternoon.
With my new found bounty at the hands of a generous stranger, I rode down the road.
I wasn’t out of the woods yet, however, because I still had a ways to go and this bike SUCKED! The shifters didn’t work, the wheels wobbled and it was way to small for me. It’s one endearing quality (the most important one) was that it ROLLED.
The next 2 hours were a sleep deprived blur, desperately wanting to arrive, and recognizing that I wasn’t yet close. With 2 miles to go I was wondering if I could make it without rest. I thought perhaps the smartest thing to do would be to take a nap under a tree and refresh for a bit before continuing. I used great mental concentration to focus on staying to the right of the white line ahead of me, and watching for the turn into the apartment complex, lest I pass it and end up in downtown Boise.
FINALLY, I arrived. I walked in and sprawled out on the floor. Diane said, “that’s not the bike you left with?!!?”
I mumbled that I would explain later, and fell asleep in the middle of the floor. It was noon, I had ridden 120 miles, run 50-odd miles, and then biked another 14 or so. I was exhausted but I was home.
I woke up a few minutes later and ate a huge plate of lasagna Will heated up for me, took a shower, and then passed out on the couch.
At 6 I awoke and Will and I drove the borrowed bicycle back to Middleton, where I told the teenage girl once again to let her day know how much it meant to me that he’d leant me the bike. Then we traveled the distance up north of Payette, and arrived at farmer Roy’s place. Roy had been a little curious about whether I’d make it, and he seemed a little impressed when I told him how it’d gone, even though I had ridden the last 14 on wheels…
He showed me his wood shop and metal shop, and we exchanged views on the satisfaction of working with you hands. I paid my way through college making parts in the prototype machine shop, and he had been around farms his whole life. Farmers are extremely self-sufficient and experienced people, I really like most of them that I’ve had the privilege to meet.
As we left, Roy insisted that I stop in if I ever came back through. I promised him I would.

On the drive it really hit home how far I’d come on foot. I was amazed. It had been quite a trip, and every minute was worth it.

Day’s Mileage: 188 Miles (134 on bicycle, 54 on foot)
Cumulative Mileage: 1254 Miles in 9+ days of travel.

To the ocean

2008-09-12T11:00:00.000-07:00

Day 1
Tuesday morning, August 26th, I got up and ate a leisurely breakfast, packed the essentials in the saddle bags, and took off west out of Boise. I had my digital camera, cell phone and a gps in my handlebar bag….along with $300 and my license and credit card. I took my passport, you never know.

On the rear rack I had a one man tent, sleeping pad, sleeping bag, one change of clothes, minor toiletries, a nearly complete tool kit (just in case I was caught 90 miles from anywhere and had to make the bike work), a book, one meal of instant broccoli and noodles, an emergency reflective blanket, and a couple empty aquafina one liter water bottles. I also had some rain gear, enough that I would be able to survive, but not thrive, in the worst possible conditions. Luckily the only rain I was pelted with was on a 5 mile sight seeing trip during my stay in Eugene.
The first 50 miles were relatively uneventful. My butt started to hurt, my wrists were uncomfortable, and the back of my neck complained about holding my head up, but other than that it was just a bike ride. It took me several hours to get used to the extra weight on the back of the bike, when I stood up to pedal the rear end would flex and wobble. Only after a while did I figure out the smooth pedaling action required to stand up and ride with the added 20+ lbs of gear on the bike. I stopped for a lunch of grilled chicken and salad and fries in Parma, ID, and was looking forward to reaching Oregon. Riding west again I pulled out the GPS and found some small farm roads to take me to the Snake River (the state boundary in these parts). Crossing the bridge was cool. It took 4+ hours, but the trip finally felt “under way.”

Whenever you cross a river, that means you’ve been going downhill for a while, and now you have to climb back out of the valley…so entering Oregon that’s just what I did. I made it up to the small town of Adrian, which although it was basically a Main Street and nothing else, ended up being one of the biggest settlements I saw for the next several days.
By 5pm I reached Vale, which actually had two main streets, and was the last sign of real civilization til Bend, more than 200 miles down the road. Vale was also where I got on Hwy 20, the road that would take me all the way through Bend, to Sisters, OR, before I climbed the Cascades.

I had a big meal in a diner, and headed off. An hour and a half later I reached Harper, OR, where the only buildings are the County School (kindergarten through 12th grade) and Coleman Service Station. I had covered about 96 miles, and was just getting to the Malhuer river, which highway 20 follows for quite a ways. The sun was setting, and since I was riding west, it was right in my eyes, so when I entered the store I was happy to see that they sold baseball caps with the store name on them. A perfect utility souvenir! The guy running the place sold me a pepsi and some beef jerky, and I inquired about the local happenings of the day. He told me that the principal of the school stated that traveling cyclists were welcome to camp on the school grounds, and that there were no towns for quite a ways (68 miles to the west was the next store). Since I still had an hour and a half of light I was hesitant to end my day, especially since I hadn’t hit that magic number of 100 miles yet. I told him I’d probably just camp on down the road and ways, and he wished me luck. The hat I bought proudly displays the name and location of Coleman Service, and I told him and his welder buddy who was there that I would be going to the Ocean and beyond, to which his buddy replied, “oh, they’ll recognize that hat all the way to Portland, everyone in this state has taken out credit here at Coleman Service!” It was hilarious.
I rolled on down the road, climbing a couple of minor passes in the late afternoon heat. As the evening wore on, I entered the River Canyon and enjoyed the spectacular show of the sun setting in a mountainous place, where as the sun set the bottom of the canyon gets darker as the east canyon wall is still brightly illuminated.

When the last of the direct sunlight was gone I noticed a cool low spot in the land, a couple hundred yards off the road, down by the river. Most of this country was just scrub brush, but there was a stand of taller bushes and trees down there, so I hopped a fence (between tiny “no trespassing” signs….come on! There had only been one house for the past 20 miles) and pushed the bike down to the spot. I set up my tent behind the trees both to shield myself from the occasional tractor trailer noise, and to keep from being seen from the road. Next, as it was getting really dark I walked over to check out my bathing options. I found the river to be about 2-3 feet deep near the edge, so I stripped down and waded in, dunking my body in the cool, but not too cold, water. I soaped up with my biodegradeable camp soap and rinsed off. Now, in the semi-arid desert of eastern Oregon, it gets quite hot in the day, but also quite cool at night, so I was glad I stayed a little warm from my exertion of the bike ride until I took my river bath. It’s tough to be cold and bathe in cold water, but when you are warm it’s really enjoyable.

Since I was cooled off now, I bee-lined it back to the tent and crawled into my sleeping bag, looking up at the stars since I had the luxury of a clear night and no need for the rain-fly.
As I lay there, I wondered about what animals were spooked by this intruders presence in their little habitat, and whether rancher Bob was going to awaken me by shotgun clicks in the morning. I also just laid there in awe of the 50 billion stars and several shooting stars I was watching move across the sky. Life was good, even if the ground under my minimal sleeping pad was hard.
Day’s Mileage: 116, Cumulative Mileage: 116

Day2
After a somewhat restless night, I awoke to a chilly morning in the low 40’s and the sun creeping down the canyon wall. A new day! Time to get on the bike!
I put on my wet shoes, (big mistake, I had bathed with them on, and now my feet were going to be COLD) bicycling shorts, t-shirt, long sleeve shirt, and rain jacket. I also put on my wind proof fleece gloves and my fleece hat. I kept the helmet off since the traffic was almost non-existent and my fleece hat made the straps not fit around my chin. Since I had ridden several hours after dinner the previous night, and just had a water bottle of apple juice to drink on the road for breakfast, I was looking forward to getting somewhere to buy food. I hoped that the next town, Juntura (a ways down the road yet), was bigger than Harper. Well, it wasn’t much bigger, but at least the single store in town was a diner/gas station. I ordered the two pork chop breakfast and proceeded to thaw out my extremities. After breakfast the sun was fully out and I started shedding clothes. With already some 28-30 miles in the bank for the day, life was good. The countryside was vast and gorgeous, and just as empty. Again mountainous sidewalls and scrub brush were the order of the day. Climbing out of Juntura I quickly became hot and no longer had to think about being cold. One of several 1000+ foot climbs made sure of that. After the climb came a descent and then a 20 mile crossing of a valley.

Unfortunately this valley, from Buchanan to Burns, had a serious easterly wind. I pedaled hard on flat ground for over two hours to go 20 miles. I kept looking up and not feeling any closer to the mountains on the other side of the valley. When I finally made it, I cruised into Burns and went to subway, devouring a foot long sub and numerous glasses of coke, and then some cookies. Since it was again late afternoon, I pulled out the map and curiously searched for obvious camping spots I could shoot for. The Chickihominy Reservoir was far enough away that I thought it might take 4 hours to get there, and there was a gas station a couple miles before it, so I could stop and get my last calories for the day there. As I left Burns, the temperature was high, and I was going into the sun.

I broke out my new hat, and the sunglasses in order to stay comfortable. After a couple climbs and a long flat section, I reached the gas station in Ripley. Yet another town that consisted of a gas station, and nothing else at all…I got another Gatorade, an apple juice, and an orange sherbet ice cream bar. Next I headed out, continuing on Hwy 20, looking forward to the state park and perhaps a shower a few miles down the road. Unfortunately when I reached Chickihominy there were signs posted prominently declaring that all camping in the park would require paying a fee, whether you used any facilities or not. All I wanted to do was jump in the lake and set up my tent, surely that should be a free proposition since there were no showers or bathrooms available, just a few picnic tables! Well, day use of the park was free, and since there were still probably 15 minutes of daylight left I went over to the small fish cleaning building and turned on the faucet. “oh good, freezing cold water,” I thought. So I got out my two 1 liter aquafina bottles and started filling them up and dousing myself with the icy water. It only takes a couple bottles of really cold water for this to get old….so I stripped down to my shorts and lathered up with my camp soap again. I’m sure the other campers were thinking, “hey good idea, why didn’t I think of that!” Anyway, after rinsing off as thoroughly as I could stand I dried off and put my shirt and shoes back on, and headed out. It was getting dark, but I was in the middle of nowhere, so surely I could find another place to camp that wouldn’t charge me…and sure enough, about a mile down the road there was a sign that said, “OPEN RANGE, NEXT 18 miles.” This is public land, where I believe farmers can range there cattle for free or reduced cost, in exchange for allowing the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) to research what goes on on the land and in the cattle. I turned down the next gravel ranch road, and started looking for a nice camouflaged spot. After a few minutes of scoping out the area, and finding the ODOT’s stash of salt rocks (for spreading on the road in the winter time) I settled on a nice little spot on some dirt behind a few trees. I had to peel some petrified cow dung off the ground with a stick, and remove a few dead limbs, but it was a good spot. I set up the tent and laid down just as the stars were getting bright. This was one of those spots, like the previous night, where there is no artificial light for many many miles, and there are a lot more visible stars that I am used to. It was a glorious place to sleep….I just hoped no herds of cattle moved in before I woke up?!!?
Day’s Mileage: 108, Cumulative Mileage: 224

Day 3
Waking up in the morning I packed up in the early dawn and narrowly avoided being seen by a dude in a huge F-350 who drove down the gravel road I’d used. I have no idea how he’d have felt about finding me there, but I didn’t really want to find out, so I ducked behind some bushes, and when he was safely out of sight I jetted for the main road. Once again I had a ways to go before I would get any breakfast, nearly 40 miles. Well, in fact, the town of Hampton, OR (shown on my map as existing) was actually just a ranch and a closed down gas station, out of business for some time as far as I could tell. Yikes, I was hungry and thirsty, so luckily I had my stove and that one broccoli noodle meal. I found a picnic table underneath the awning of the now defunct store, and using the last 8 or so ounces of my water, I cooked up a little 500 calorie breakfast.

I had emptied one of my 1 liter bottles of water early that morning, looking to save weight, but I was regretting that now. I had enough water to cook the noodles (thank goodness) but none to drink. It would have been pretty uncomfortable to ride the next 20+ miles with no water or food, but luckily I had given in and carried the stove and food, just in case. Had I known the infrequency with which I would see reliable stores and facilities I would have carried more, but I’m glad it worked out the way it did. It was fun to do this trip with no idea about what would be over the next rise, or around the next bend.
20 miles further down the road I reached Brothers, OR. The story behind this town is that all the homesteaders who tried to work it’s land failed. Apparently it was usually a 5 year process of building a cabin, fencing in an area for cattle, trying to work the land, and then quitting and returning to live with relatives somewhere else. The high desert of eastern and central Oregon is really very hot in the daytime, the temperature was over 90 each of the first 3 days, until I reached the Cascades. Speaking of the Cascades, it was around this point in the trip when I started to notice some mountains on the horizon. Ironically, I was in the high desert and looking up at those mountains (which turned out to be the Three Sisters) I was thinking, “I guess that whitish stuff on the those mountains is sand, they must be huge mountains covered in sand.” Well, a day later I realized that in fact the whitish stuff was snow. It seemed so obvious once I was climbing up to 6,000 and 7,000 feet that it was snow, but earlier when I was out in the heat, it had just not occurred to me.

So I stopped in Brothers and had a burger, and chatted with a couple that was motorcycle touring about where I was headed. Then I headed out again and on towards Bend. On the way to Bend I had a couple more medium grade climbs, and a monster descent, but then the valley stretched out and it took a couple more hours of pushing to get into civilization again. There was yet another defunct town where I had hoped to replenish my fluids, but was disappointed by the run down and closed old store. After being dry for a while and holding things together, I finally got to Bend, and promptly sweated a bunch of sunscreen into my eyes. I was looking for something good to eat, and luckily I held out for Main Street, where I quickly noticed the Deschutes Brewery.

I walked in, and due to my solitude and dehydrated-eyes-watering look, I think the waiter was taken aback. I stared at him for a few seconds, and finally said, “I’m looking for some food, can I sit over there and watch my bike out the window?” to which he replied in the affirmative. I sat down, looked at the beer menu, and ordered a Shasta Golden Ale. When the waitress brought out my 22 ouncer I ordered a grilled chicken BLT, and started on the beer. Although the food was really quick, I was ready for another beer when it came out. God it was good! Surely Between the two large beers and the food I ate at least 2000 calories. The beer was glorious. When I was done I walked out and got on the bike immediately. I felt no effects from the beer, so I headed off down Hwy 126.
I was headed up into the mountains. I figured I would stop in Sisters, OR for a couple drinks to get me through the evening and the morning, and I would camp out somewhere in the Deschutes National Forest. That’s exactly what happened. Before I got to Sisters, however, I saw a flash of chrome in the dirt on the shoulder, and circled back to check it out. It turned out to be a sweet SOG multi-tool plier, and a few yards away was a little leather case for it. I stuffed it in a saddle bag…Score one for the road!
Another mile or two down the road a bridge crossed an irrigation canal. This small river was about 10 feet wide and two feet deep. Perfect cleaning station! I climbed down the embankment and jumped in. The water was freezing cold, so I soaped off as quickly as I could, and enjoyed the refreshment. Then I got back on the bike and headed towards Sisters.
I saw a sign for the public library, and decided I would go check my e-mail. Before the trip I had sent a note to an aquaintance from Brevard, NC, Scott Wolfe who had moved to Eugene, OR just over a year ago, to see whether he had any suggestions on what to see while I was in Western Oregon, and whether he might like to meet up while I was passing through. When I checked my e-mail in Sisters there was a note with several recommendations about what to see and where to stay, and an offer of a place to crash, if I desired. Bonus! With Scott’s phone number in hand, I had a tentative idea of where I would sleep the next night.
Crossing through town, I grabbed some odds and ends at the store and turned into the wilderness. As it go dark I was looking for a campground shown on my map, but it didn’t appear for several miles after I was looking. Again, no facilities and a camping fee, so I got back on the road and went another half mile and walked the bike back into the woods and set up camp.

I was a little nervous about bears in these dense woods, but hadn’t seen any warning signs, so I figured life would be ok. Sleeping well through the night, I woke up to dawn and a chilly morning. I put all my clothes on and started riding.
Day’s Mileage: 125
Cumulative Mileage: 349

Day 4
Had I camped another mile down the road I’d have found the extra clothes unnecessary, because the 7-mile climb to McKenzie Pass started. This is a really cool place.

Climbing for miles to the crest of the Cascades, you are enveloped in the very large trees that must be 150-200 ft tall. When you near the pass, you come around a bend and are present with an awe-inspiring view. A 20 square mile lava field stretches out in front of you. It is all crumbly black rock that formed millions of years ago, and pushed it’s way out at the top of this range.

The CCC built an observation tower out of the stone that looks like a castle up at the top of this pass. It is really quite amazing. As I climbed the tower in the observatory, a voice from behind asked whether I was the cyclist they had seen yesterday. Indeed, it was the same motorcycling couple I’d seen out in the desert in Brothers. We talked about where they had been (to Portland and back, if I remember) and where we were headed. It was a cool coincidence.
Just past the observatory, I turned off the road and locked my bike to a tree in the woods. This was the intersection of hwy 242 and the Pacific Crest Trail that runs from Mexico to Canada. Knowing some folks who have hiked and run on this trail, I felt compelled to explore it a little bit.

I took off north from the road and did a 7 mile round trip hike up past Little Belknap Mountain. Half of the hike was over the lava fields, and it afforded a great view of the North Sister, a 10,000 peak that I had seen from the high desert yesterday. There were a few snow patches in the shade, but it was again hot, even up at 7,000 feet. After the hike, I saddled up and headed down the extreme downhill that would last me basically the rest of the day. From the pass it is something like 20 miles down to hwy 126, which follows the McKenzie River all the way to Eugene.

I again had just a bottle of Gatorade for breakfast on this day, and after the couple hour hike I was really getting hungry and thirsty. The long downhill really got my neck and wrists worn out, from leaning forward so far for so long. So I was really looking forward to getting some food and drink. Scott had recommended a Café in Vida as a great southern style diner to grab lunch from, but it was still a ways out, and I was famished, so the first gas station I got to on hwy 126 saw me spend about $12 on food and drinks. My usual stop (1-2 times per day) would entail 32 oz of gatorade, a 20 oz pepsi, a small bag of chips, an ice cream bar, a fill up of water bottles, and maybe a little debbie size pecan pie. Here I added a couple microwave Hot-Pockets and a banana to that equation. Whew! Satisfaction.
As I continued on down the river I took any small parallel roads that would keep me on the river banks, and even rode through a couple covered bridges, which are always fun. I wanted to eat at the Vida café, but it was within 90 minute’s ride of my huge snack fest, so luckily there was another Scott Wolfe recommendation in my path. I turned up the road to Blue River Reservoir, hoping to kill some time. Lucky me, the reservoir was absolutely gorgeous and I had the boat ramp area all to myself. There was a 18” diameter tree trunk, that had been notched and set on the shore to keep from rotating, sticking 50 feet out into the lake.

It was the coolest diving board I have ever used I swam around and dove and did cannon balls for a while, enjoying the cool water. After a bit, I had had enough and climbed back on the bike.
Down, Down, Down, I arrived in Vida, and took a seat at the café, ordering a club sandwich and a root beer. The sandwich was huge, so I called each of my brothers and had a conversation as I ate. Tanked up again, I headed out.
As I continued down the McKenzie, I enjoyed the afternoon, and wondered how it might go with Scott. We had met just once in Brevard when I moved to Greenville a few years ago, and Scott had shown me some of the local trails.

When I arrived in Springfield (the next door neighbor of Eugene, I called Scott and got his answering message, I was discouraged because I thought he might not be around and I’d have to find a hotel, since it was late afternoon and I was in the middle a city, with no idea about good camping options.
Luckily, as I pedaled down the road again, he called back. I told him where I was, he gave me an address, and welcomed me to stay at his place. I navigated by a large scale city map towards his house, and was lucky enough to serendipitously emerge right in the center of the U of O campus and run right in to Hayward Field.

The history surrounding this place has a gravity to it that only we runners can appreciate, so it was really cool to just happen upon it. I snapped a picture and headed towards Scott’s. When I arrived, Scott’s longtime girlfriend Siiri answered the door and I introduced myself, and was invited in, since Scott was not yet home from work. Beer was offered and accepted, and then a grill was started and range fed steaks were cooked with some awesome salad.
Scott and I made a late night trip to the bike shop that he manages, and he hooked my up with a specific tool that my kit was lacking, just in case I had to replace a drive side rear spoke. On the post midnight ride back to the house, I missed paying attention to Scott’s arm turn signal, and I wiped out in the middle of the road when my front wheel clipped his rear wheel. As it was happening all I could think was, “oh man, this guy is showing you all kinds of hospitality, and you are about to knock him off his bike!” Luckily, Scott kept himself upright without too much trouble, and when I went over the handlebars I executed a near flawless parachute barrel roll landing. Unluckily, my wrist was hurting pretty bad and my front shifter/brake combo was misaligned and shredded. I got up out of the road and we made some quick repairs (we paid a little more attention to the adjustments once we got home) and managed to get home. Although the wrist and my knee were banged up, they were usable.
It was late, and I needed a plan for the morning. I hoped to ride to Pacific and back. By the shortest route, it was about 65 miles to the ocean, but Scott said that way was too trafficky, and he had a gorgeous route for me to try. By his directions, it looked like it was going to be 75+ miles to the ocean, so I kept the contingency in mind that I might ge a hotel at the ocean and ride back the following day. I also decided I would leave the bulk of my kit at Scott’s Place, just carrying some warm clothes and my tools, and leaving the tent and other over night necessities there.
With a plan set, I went to bed.
Day’s Mileage: 100 miles
Cumulative Mileage: 449 miles

Day 5:
Waking up early Saturday morning, I wanted to be out the door and on my way. Scott offered to make some oatmeal with blueberries for me, which sounded good, but I said I’d rather get on the road and just grab some stuff at a convenience store. Had I known that the first convenience store I would pass would be 80 miles away, I might have chosen differently, but alas, I was not aware of that fact…nor had it ever occurred to me that that was possible this far west, where towns are relatively close together again.

As I pedaled out of town and into the country, I kept an eye out for stores, but when I was getting out in the boondocks, I realized that might not happen. I was a little perturbed, wishing I had not turned down the breakfast, and especially unenthused about the fact that I hadn’t packed anything except one bottle of water for this ride. After a monster climb on Wolf Creek Road, I stopped and filled up my extra water bottle with blackberries. I was still hopeful at this point (25 miles into the ride) that some store would appear before too long. No such luck, I continued further and further into the boonies, on old logging roads through some of the most beautiful countryside on the trip.

Unfortunately after a few hours I was no longer excited about the scenery, I was begging for some freaking food and drink.
After several tough climbs, each seeming all the tougher because I was chilled in the shadowy forest, and exhausted from the long ride without much nourishment, I reached Smith River Road, a meandering path through rural lands, with some beautiful waterfalls and a slightly downhill slope.

As dehydrated and hungry as I was becoming, I really didn’t appreciate this section too much. I even got off the bike a walked 40-50 yards a couple times. The flat ground pedaling was too much! I snapped a picture of Siuslaw Falls, and another one of myself in mid-bonk.

Finally, after 78 miles, I reached the first sign of civilization….a small convenience store. Inside were several locals, kicking back beers in the mid afternoon. I had expected to be at the ocean for lunch, yet here I was 20 miles short of that goal, and it was already after 2 o’clock. I walked in and asked if they had any real food for sale, to which the reply was that they could start heating up the oil for some fried foods, but nothing was ready right now. I told the guy that time was something I had….and I wanted food. While I waited for my fried chicken and french fries I had a dr. pepper, a root beer, 2 mini pecan pies, and I believe a couple other small snacks. Once the chicken basket appeared, I set to work. A solid 25 minutes after I’d arrived, I pulled out with a gut full of fat, protein and sugar. Aside from being painfully behind my goal, I was fine again. I found out from the locals that Reedsport, the town 20 miles down on the beach, had several hotels, and I knew the LAST thing I wanted to do was ride 96 miles to the ocean over all those hills and then turn around to go back….into an evening and night of darkness. However, the second to last thing I wanted to do was wake up in the morning and have to go back over all those hills with the fresh memory of how difficult they were in my head. So I decided I would ride 25 miles north on the coast, and get to Florence. From there it would be just a 65 mile trip tomorrow to get back….and over roads I hadn’t seen yet. That sounded possible, unlike making a return trip over the same roads I had just negotiated.
Well, hwy 101 on the coast was a pretty tough cookie itself. Very hilly, with a southerly wind, I worked hard for more than 2 hours to get to Florence, where I found that I needed to go across town and still travel 4-5 extra miles to get out to the end of the jetty where the actual Pacific was. Through more tough wind I fought, and as far as it seemed I started to wonder if some higher power just didn’t want me to make it to the beach. Finally, I turned onto the road that went out to the beach, and cruised into the parking lot, only to find a solid 500 yard walk over sand dunes necessary to reach the water. When I finally arrived I called my family and Will and Diane to let them know that I was standing in the Pacific!

Since it was around 6 o’clock, I hurried back to town, and went to a drug store, where I got some new sunscreen (I had emptied my first can in just 4+ days) and asked where I might find some good seafood. I headed to the recommended spot next, and quickly ordered the fish tacos and pepsi. Honestly I was disappointed by the meal, but it replaced the necessary calories, which was great. When I finished eating I asked the waitress if there might be a bus that ran from the coast to Eugene. I had been daydreaming ever since I reached the coast that I might still end up getting back to a comfortable bed tonight, and a bus or hitchhiking seemed like the only possible means to that end. When she offered to call and see, I had some slight hope, but alas, it was not to be. A nice couple who was eating next to me overheard our conversation and generously offered that they were camping 8 miles north at a campground who’s name I have forgotten in campsite 18, and said they had an extra tent and sleeping bag. I thanked them profusely, and said that if I couldn’t find a hotel close by (since it was labor day weekend) I might show up and take them up on it. I walked next door and inquired about a room, only to find that they wanted $100 for a single room. I nixed that idea, and rode another mile or two towards hwy 126. As I rode, the sun began to set, and I realized that I had several options: the offered campground spot, which was truly a generous offer from some quality folks, the hotel, which would be REALLY comfy right about now with 120 miles on the saddle so far, or I could just ride back now. I had a decent headlamp and blinky tail light, and just enough clothes to stay warm, I figured.
I considered putting a sign on my back that said “EUGENE” and starting to ride, hoping for a ride, but opted to just start riding and see how it went. The dinner had given me some energy to think that I could make it another 65 at night.
As the sun set I broke out the lights, only to find that they were relatively dim. This fact was disappointing, I thought I remembered that the batteries were fairly new, but they were barely adequate, and another 4-5 hours wasn’t going to be safe. I rode on a little farther, wanting to see if the next town might have an open shop. When I arrived, I thought all there was was a post office, but at the edge of town was one little store. I walked in and announced my thanks for their being open. They told me it was the last Saturday of the season when they would remain open past 7 o’clock. What luck! I got new batteries for both lights, a butterfinger and a snickers bar, and bottles of Gatorade and Mountain Dew (rocket fuel).
Heading out with new found confidence (due to the poor lights I was almost thinking I would have to stay the night back in the PO Box room at the post office) I pedaled on and up into the coastal mountain range, which was milder here than it had been on my way out to the ocean. I rode on and on, climbing a couple minor passes, and I stopped to call Scott and let him know my plans.
It was a beautiful night, although chilly, and I enjoyed the stars and dark sky. I also enjoyed the adrenaline shot from a couple tunnels that I went through. The sound of a car in the tunnel coming towards you is VERY loud.
I was “In the zone” for the last several hours of this ride. It was a great time. The focus was on enjoying the moment, utilizing all my senses and skills to remain safe in a hazardous environment, and reaching the end happy and healthy. I was almost sad to arrive back in Eugene after midnight, but when I hit the pillow, life was perfect.

Day’s Mileage: 186 miles
Cumulative mileage: 635 miles

Days 6-8
If I go into too much detail about my stay with Scott and Siiri, I will undoubtedly start longing to return to Eugene, so suffice it to say that my stay was immensely enjoyable, and as an awesome added bonus, they were headed to Crater Lake on Monday (Labor Day) to participate in a customer appreciation ride around the lake with the bike shop folks that Scott works with. I got to go for the ride, and enjoyed a beautiful cold day up at 7,000 feet with some like minded crazies. I also spent a day wandering around Eugene, doing a 10 mile run on some locals trails up to the Butte south of town, and checking out Pre’s Rock.

A little background

2008-09-12T10:56:00.000-07:00

So
To some of you, this story will be new. Other of you have heard parts or all of it already, but I am sending it out as an update on the goings-on in Carl’s life.

At the end of June, I turned in my 2 weeks notice at Hamilton Automation in Greenville, SC. I decided that what I did next would follow whatever path presented itself, but that I would add structure to my time off by signing up for a 100 mile road race in Oklahoma in November, and training hard for it. The race is called the Mother Road 100 and it’s held on the historic old roadbed of route 66.
After completing my employment I headed west to Tennessee with a video camera and took 14+ hours of videotape at the Last Annual Volunteer State Road Race. Over 8 days I drove back and forth, interviewing runners before, during, and after the race. I even ended up crewing for the winner (he supplanted me as “King of the Roads”) for the last 48 hours of his run. Kevin finished the 500km run in 4 days 23 hours and 45 minutes. Quite an accomplishment. It was hot.
My intention is to put the footage together into a low budget documentary….the kind of thing your parents and close friends will watch, and fake enthusiasm. But I also hope that people interested in doing the race will watch it, enjoy it and learn from it. There are people out there for whom a run like this is very appealing, and if they hear about it and enjoy the documentary we may go from the 3 entries we had a few years ago to the 6 we had last year to the 8 we had this year to the 30 we might get in years to come! It’s an exciting thought, to me.
So after taking all the video, I returned to Greenville and cleaned out my apartment and put all my belongings into a 5’X5’ storage unit. Then I headed west again. I stayed with Gary Cantrell, the race director of the Tennessee run for a long weekend and we watched most of the footage, coming up with ideas for the movie, and enjoying talking about the experiences from the road.
On August 4th I got in the van with James Rudd, and we drove from Nashville to Boise, ID. We ended up with my friends Will and Diane, who just moved here for Will’s teaching job at Boise State University. They generously offered me a place to stay while I cleared my head, worked on the video, and trained for the Mother Road 100.
When I arrived here, the Olympics were just about to start, and since I was feeling pretty down about the circumstances of my leaving Greenville, I basically lived on the couch watching the Olympics and sleeping for 18 hours a day. I managed to maintain enthusiasm for the running, since I had promised myself that I would train well for the big race and justify my time away from the working world, but that was the only structure I had to my day. Will and Diane (and my family) were very supportive, but I think they realized that time might be the only thing to get me back to being myself.
Anyhow, after the Olympics I spent another couple days feeling unmotivated and sorry for myself, before I decided that I needed to have an adventure. I thought about running across Montana, or riding my bicycle back to Georgia, but I didn’t think I had the mental fortitude for the run, or the desire to return to Georgia yet. So the next morning (August 25th) I went and got maps of Montana, Idaho, Oregon. Then I went to the bike shop and got a couple saddle bags. I decided I would ride to the Pacific Ocean. Google maps called it an even 502 miles to the pacific from where I sat, and that sounded like a good number. I figured surely I could do 100 miles a day, and finish in 10 days.