Umtanum Ridge Crest & Road

Posted on October 23, 2017 by evejakubowski

Cruising through the grass

Sweet start

After last week’s shortcut, I figured I’d take another shot at a long run, so I messaged a few steady trail runners for suggestions out east knowing the weather everywhere (even in the Teanaways!) was going to be brutal. Yakima looked sunny, and Stuke had a phenomenal suggestion that was a 27ish mile out-and-back taking the Umtanum Ridge Crest trail to the Umtanum Ridge Road, which runs the length of the ridge and despite being a road is more like a wide trail. I thought I had thrown this plan out the window when SMR got busy on Saturday, but after being turned around without even setting foot on the trail, my long run was back in action. Ran 10/22/2017.

That is a perfectly good burrito

I got to the trailhead around 8:30 and stepped out of the car into wonderful sunshine and what might be the most delicious air I have ever smelled in my life. Everything was covered in dew from that had just stopped, and the entire canyon was full of sage bushes. Sunshine with the smell of fresh rain mixed with tons of sage, I gotta give Yakima a little more credit. It was freaking gorgeous. You know when you start an activity and your entire body just says yeah, this is where I should be right now? It was one of those mornings. I packed my bag with way more food than I ended up needing and started off.

Distance: 27.6 miles
Elevation: 2,400ft net gain (3,480 highest point, and around 6k gain on rolling hills)
Weather: 50’s and a mix of clouds and sun
Commute from Seattle: 2:40 unless everyone crashes in the rain (RAIN) on i90
Did I Trip: Some stubbed toes but no casualties
Strava link here

First light post rain

Dammit Saucony. Maybe #runmostplaces not #runanywhere

The first 2.5 miles gain the 2,400ft of elevation, so needless to say I hiked those.There was no one else in sight. The trail briefly follows Umtanum Creek (you need to duck under some train tracks, or go over but I’m lazy so I went under) before hanging left and starting up through quaking aspen and sagebrush and tall grasses towards the ridge. It was quite muddy, and I found the only flaw in my running shoes that I have encountered so far. With this clay-ish-mud mix, the lugs on my shoes just got caked with mud until I was basically hiking on mud pancakes, slipping all over the place. I’d stop periodically to scrape off the bottoms and delicately tiptoe up the trail.

The last half mile to the top is very steep, and I was less than stoked doing it without shoes that had good mud traction (and poles) but soon enough I topped out at the ridge road. Stuke’s description was accurate. Rolling hills, and a road that’s more like a wide trail than a road. Sweet! I started jogging.

Totally different topography compared to western Washington

There were two things I had only briefly considered before starting up the trail, because I don’t know much about either group. First was hunters. I had my neon pink hard shell, which is close enough to safety orange that I figured I had that base covered, and hopefully if I was being an idiot someone would tell me. Second was 4×4 teams (who I think were usually also hunting), who I hoped would be okay with me hopping off the road so they could pass, and again tell me if I was doing something stupid. Here’s the confession: I’m basically scared of random 4×4 drivers, and definitely scared of random hunters. Neither of those activities were part of my life, they’re totally foreign to me, and they’re intimidating, and I’m just a hot pink helpless nerd going for a jog.

Almost at the ridge (not)

So the first two trucks that drove past me freaked me out. And the first hunters I passed freaked me out. But I was pleasantly surprised by everyone I ran into! The hunters were all amicable (one team on foot just laughed and said “good for you!” as I jogged past) and several trucks stopped to ask how far I was going and to flag them down if I needed anything. Everyone was totally fine about sharing the road, in fact I might even go so far as to say that they were more pleasant than a lot of the hikers I encounter on trails, who don’t hear or see you coming, don’t move out of the way, and glare or silently stare ahead when you ask if you can pass.

Rolling hills!

So you pretty much start at the high point. This was great as I started my jog, because woohoo downhill! I hiked most of the uphills unless they were very slight. Supposedly you can see the Stuart range from the top of the ridge, but all I got were clouds. Oh, and the wind, which occasionally ripped by just to spite me. The road switches between beautiful gravel, nice dirt, and terrible rocks and mud, so you get a nice combo of footwork and space-out-cruising. I fell victim to “summit fever” – not a summit, but around mile 11 I was like okay, I’ll turn around at that high point. And then I was there, and it was 11.5 miles, and I thought no you didn’t drive 2.5 hours just to turn around at 11.5 miles, go for 13. And then I hit 13 and thought okay, that high point (I was going downhill and didn’t want to start my return trip with immediate uphill). And then I could see the road intersection that was the turnaround point from that knoll, and I didn’t come that far just to turn around 300 yards short of the end. So I tagged the intersection and began the long slog back.

The nicest section of road ever

I didn’t let myself check mileage again until around 19.8 miles. I wanted to be sure I had less than 10 miles left next time I looked (mental games) so I waited forever. The rolling hills were kind to me though, I ran more uphills than I had on the way out and felt pretty good. The final uphill to the trail turnoff was brutal, but not as brutal as the ensuing descent, losing 1,000ft+ per mile, destroying my knees and quads and hips while I counted my steps to distract myself from everything else because I was even tired of the sage at this point.

Trail leading off into the distance

I jogged across the bridge (surprisingly bouncy) and popped into the parking lot, pretty thrilled with how the day had gone. I had only eaten around 6 tablespoons of peanut butter, and felt fantastic the entire time. I had the perfect amount of water, my new shoes had felt great, and I didn’t have any weird aches or pains. I didn’t even know that was possible. I hopped into my car, mentally on tope of the world, and drove straight into a wall of traffic on i90 because people forget how to drive in the rain. Shit.

Oh, and I found a Hot Pocket that I had lost in my car back in summer of 2015. You read that right. Over 2 years later. Turns out there’s a void beneath the fabric on the floor below my drivers’ seat. I can only imagine the decay had spawned a mold-based life form, because the only reason I found it was because there was this odd crackling noise going on and I was panicking that there was a mouse in my car while driving on the highway. No, just a hot pocket that came to life. I was hoping I had mentioned it in the trip report but I didn’t. But for two years I’ve been assuming that there was a glitch in the matrix that resulted in the loss of some high quality sustenance.

Sage has yellow flowers 🙂

Lake Ann, Fortune Peak, Lake Ingalls, and Longs Pass

Posted on October 20, 2017 by evejakubowski

Rainier from the top of Fortune Peak

A.K.A. “How To Avoid The Crowd at Lake Ingalls.” Well, sort of. We’ll get there. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that I moved out here for trail running, since I basically didn’t run at all this year or last year (sorta due to injury). The year before that was hit and miss. Well, I don’t want to jinx it, but the injury hasn’t been as nagging as it has been the past three years, and I’m taking advantage of it. So with all of the sun this weekend and only one day to play, I figured I should get my trail running ass back in gear.

Beautiful rolling trail to Lake Ann

I didn’t want to do the Enchantments again since I did it with Cooper last year around this time, and I don’t like repeats even if they’re awesome. And the Enchantments would be crowded. “But doesn’t Ingalls also mean crowds?!” you exclaim. Yes, but you can make a loop that avoids everyone and is still mostly on trail, which was another requirement because I am lazy. I didn’t want to deal with breaking trail or navigating cross country blah blah blah I just wanted to space out and run. So I strung together a loop in the Teanaways with a little inspiration from Jessica Kelly’s blog.

As usual, not much went as planned. The second leg took me far longer than expected due to snow, as did the fifth leg. This all meant I bailed on my original plan, which had been 20+ miles. And of course when I was back at the car by early afternoon it occurred to me I probably should have just done the full loop anyway, but I guess it’s good to play it safe. Oh well, more for next time. Run 10/15/2017!

Distance: 12mi
Elevation gain: ~5,000ft if you count the ups and downs (7,382 highest point)
Weather: 20’s and sunny to 40’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:30 (it’s shorter in my head)
Did I trip slip: Slip count, ~6; posthole count, ~20 million

Doesn’t look too snowy from here!

I got to the trailhead around 9am after being stuck behind pilot cars in every lane of i90. They’re painting the white stripes on the highway, which apparently requires closing 2-3 lanes and having trucks drive 5mph in the 1-2 “open” lanes. After much whining and bitching, I finally reached the trailhead and took off towards Lake Ann, eager to get moving. And also freezing cold. I had a puffy, a windbreaker, and a wool base layer. And fleece lined Sugoi wind resistant leggings from my winter Chicago running days. I haven’t worn them in probably two years. And mesh trail runners, armed with microspikes. No gaitors.

The start of the trail was pleasant. It’s a mellow trail without much elevation gain, and quite runnable. Snow and ice were patchy, and I didn’t have a need for the spikes until later in the morning. The trail became snow covered around the turn off from the Esmerelda Basin trail, and I started following footprints. I checked the GPS periodically, because can you really trust footprints? But they looked like they were from the prior day, and they were only in one direction, so they had to go somewhere.

Lake Ann beneath Ingalls Peak

The footprints dropped me off at the pass above the lake a bit further west than the actual trail, but a nice path of postholes led me to the correct saddle, where I met the most wholesome family ever. Two parents with their two kids. One kid was so proud of how they had broken trail in the snow all the way to the lake to camp the prior night, but then he “almost died of hypothermia because the wind was so bad in the morning!!!” The kids were having a blast despite the frigid temperatures and howling wind. They had camped at the lake the previous night, and no other parties had made it to the lake. So I guess I’ve discovered my parenting goals. I don’t know many kids who would be thrilled to break trail in snow all that way.

Deceptively deep snowdrifts

I turned right and carried on my way up the ridge towards Fortune Peak, unsure of what conditions I’d run into. I’d say I was awkwardly like one week too late and one week too early. A week prior it would have been a talus walk up. A week from now it’ll be a snowy walkup. But I got snowdrifts, and barely covered talus, and fresh tree and rock wells. Yuck. I found a bootpath that took me in and out of snowdrifts, which I started to go well out of my way to avoid. Thigh deep powder with a crust on top is not enjoyable. This meant some steep sidehilling and some steep snow (kicking steps in trail runners gets old on the toes) and some third class scrambling once I couldn’t feel my toes anymore and desperately wanted to avoid snow as much as possible. Also, my gloves were not waterproof, so my fingers were MIA after like three snowdrifts.

Ingalls Peak and Stuart from Fortune

And the wind kept howling. Every time I hit that ridge it was like being blown over. So would I rather stay on the shady icy side, or the sunny windy side? Shit, I don’t care, they both suck ass. I debated bailing but I didn’t really want to go back because I’d be at the car at like 10am and that’s a waste of the day. So I plowed on and I finally topped out after postholing into talus for what felt like forever. I yelled at the wind to just give me a second so I could take a picture with my numb fingers (it didn’t listen) and high tailed it down the Ingalls side of the peak as quickly as possible, which meant more postholing but I was out of shits to give, I needed to start moving. Yes, my brain wanted to go do South Ingalls Peak, but I had done zero research and my body would be dropping f bombs if it could yell at my brain.

Stuart above Lake Ingalls

I worked my way down to the basin, where the snow changed from crust over powder to slush. So now the postholes are wet and sloppy instead of “pull your leg up quickly and you won’t notice the snow” and I finally put on microspikes hoping they’d grip the mud under the snow if not the snow itself. It worked, they did. I stuck to rock as much as I could to avoid the surprises hidden beneath the snow, and finally was back on trail, where somehow no one noticed me appear out of nowhere.

Finally, back to running! I cruised through larches to the lake (maybe a half mile from where I hit the trail) and scrambled to the opposite side, which also took longer than expected because of the half melted snow and ice covering the scrambles. I had one nice wipeout in front of the entire state of Washington (because that’s how many people were at Lake Ingalls), who were admiring both the views of Stuart and of my arms flailing as I slipped down a sloping rock.

Larches! You can almost hear my feet crunching in snow

I merged with the Ingalls Way trail, which was tougher to find in the snow than expected (needless to say the snow slowed things down a lot). I found a sweet basin with a gnarly view of Ingalls that I’ve never seen before, so I took a break to snap a quick pic. The Ingalls Way trail is a beautiful mellow trail (my section was mostly downhill, too!) that runs for I think 17 miles if you follow the entire thing, but I jumped off at the Longs Pass junction. I had originally been planning on going further and bagging Iron peak and maybe Teanaway/Gene’s Peak, something I had done years ago, and connecting back to the road via the Iron Peak trail. But after all of the snow up high, I a) was not sure how much time it would take and b) did not want to get myself stuck breaking trail/navigating with zero hint of trail and I figured it was more likely that Longs Pass had seen traffic than the backside of Iron Peak.

The view of Ingalls Peak no one sees

Well, turned out Longs Pass hadn’t seen much traffic either. The trail was promptly covered in snow and every rivulet running down the side of the valley looked like it could be the trail. I started taking out the GPS every few minutes to make sure I was on track. Footprints appeared out of nowhere and stayed consistent until I finally broke above the trees, where they mysteriously disappeared again (not so mysterious, probably covered by windblown snow) but it didn’t matter because it was line of sight from there. Back to kicking steps. In knee deep snow this time. In my mesh shoes. With numb stumps for feet. On a snow slope that warranted an ice axe and would be avvy terrain real soon (I was banking on no glide avalanches because the dirt was talus). Just go fast, there’s not much you can do about it now. Roughly in order, I would have liked company (breaking trail alone blows), waterproof boots (my feet were MIA), waterproof gloves (my fingers… yeesh), and poles or an ice axe. Instead I had none of the above, so I wrapped myself in my surly eff-this-noise attitude and scowled at how beautiful the views were, as if they were mocking my grumpiness. And Stuart, that sly fox.

Looking back at Fortune Peak and the Ingalls group from above Longs Pass

I topped out and greeted a few folks who had watched my sufferfest. I headed southeast to bag a few high points along the ridge and enjoy the views one last time before cruising back down the Longs Pass trail, which was a phenomenal feeling. The trail is on and off an old road. I’m not sure how long ago the road was in action, but you can still see sections of it even when the trail leaves it. The trail is perfectly sloped for downhill cruising, all soft dirt and slush (kept the microspikes on until the car) and most people go to Lake Ingalls, so it’s pretty quiet until you merge with the Ingalls trail just a bit from the trailhead. I only got a few glares from parties I was passing, most people were happy and one person had even run into the guy I met on the way up Fortune Peak. He had asked if anyone had run into me! It’s a good feeling knowing others remember you and are watching out. You hope there are slim chances anything goes wrong, but you never know. So there I was, soaking in vitamin D and endorphins and knowing a random hiker had my back and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. I forgot I liked trail running. It’s good to be back.

Except that now it’s winter and the best trails have to wait until July. Shit.

Obligatory pic of Stuart over Lake Ingalls

Lakes Dorothy, Bear, Deer, and Snoqualmie

Posted on September 10, 2017 by evejakubowski

The far end of Lake Dorothy, neat channels underwater

Catching up on old posts, and since this is a rainy day one it’ll be a quickie. I had donated blood the previous afternoon, so I ignored all hiking/climbing requests to do my own thing in case it was similar to the last time I donated blood. Last time I thought it would be smart to hike to Lake Serene, and I was pouring sweat with a heart rate of like 180 and miserable the entire time and I did not want a repeat of that. So I surveyed the population for “boring lake hikes.” The lakes can be nice, but I don’t want any tempting peaks behind them, no scrambling, no elevation gain, a well maintained obvious trail, relatively short drive, you get the idea. Hiked 9/9/2017.

Distance: 14 miles
Elevation: 1600ft gain, 3600ft highest point (warning: you lose 500ft elevation to Snoqualmie Lake)
Weather: 50’s and rainy
Commute from Seattle: 2 hours
Did I Trip: No. Who’s well grounded!?

Your first glimpse of Lake Dorothy

And I settled on lakes Dorothy, Bear, and Deer. I figured if I felt crappy I could turn around at any of those lakes. I got to the trailhead around 10am and started off, immediately being passed by two trail runners. I was jealous. Then I cruised past some park rangers, one of whom dated my friend last year (I’m awkward and announced him as such) and prayed they didn’t give me a ticket for my expired America the Beautiful pass. Lake Dorothy is about 1.5 miles down the trail, but the lake is HUGE. Tons of campsites, great for families with kids and inflatable boats and towels and big stoves.

Closest thing I had to a view all day

It took what felt like forever to get to the other end of the lake. You finally hit some elevation gain on the far side, and switch back up a short ridge that eventually drops you to Bear and Deer lakes, which are twin lakes! There are more campsites at each lake (immediately off the trail), and you can either stop here or continue to Snoqualmie Lake.

Beautifully maintained trail

I had all day and was moving faster than I thought, so I figured I’d carry on. I also expected there to be a turnaround destination here, which there wasn’t, and continuing trail is just so tempting. I lost what felt like a ton of elevation dropping to Snoqualmie Lake, which interestingly had some sandy shores. There are campsites here, my personal favorite (which I deemed my turnaround spot) was actually just off the main trail to the right towards a beautiful surprise tarn. So that’s where you should camp if you don’t mind a 7 mile hike.

Local riff raff

Figuring it wasn’t going to get any more interesting from there and looking forward to a warm cozy dinner, I turned around and high tailed it back to the parking lot. I did not get a ticket from a lack of pass, thank you rangers! I had actually called their building on the way hoping to get a pass but it was close, so I swear I had tried. And I finally got the new pass a week, don’t worry. I know, I know, I live on the edge.

Favorite tarn by Snoqualmie Lake

Overall, pleasant hike, good destination for anyone who wants lake camping with kids or a long trail run. The trail continues beyond Snoqualmie Lake all the way to Middle Fork Snoqualmie River (I’m pretty sure those two trail runners started at Middle Fork, ran to the Dorothy trailhead, and then ran back to Middle Fork), so you could have a fantastic out and back or even car to car trail run on a mellow, well maintained trail if you so desired. Just don’t donate blood the day before. Good for hot summer days (lakes!) or gross rainy days (…lakes!) or lazy days (flat trails, and… lakes!) since you can turn around at any number of destinations.

Luxurious campsite near the tarn

Moab Trail Marathon: How to Fake Run a Marathon

Posted on November 23, 2016 by evejakubowski

Top of mile 15 baby!

Okay, we still ran most of it, miraculously. Leading up to it I had done a single 19 miler (but much of that was walking), and I don’t think my father had run more than like 8 miles in two years. So there was a lot of walking involved, and some scrambling, and some “arm rappels” or whatever you want to call those. And some cramps and muscle spasms, and some whining, and some “shut up so I can count my steps” (which is code for “I’m dying”) and luckily a real life voice doppleganger of Charlie Day from Always Sunny who carried us through mile 23. Oh, and a rogue cactus that nearly did me in at mile 24.

And we’re off! Who needs to run when you can take photos every 25 feet?

It’s easy to forget that I originally moved to Washington for trail running, especially with all of the climbing/mountaineering/pretending like I know how to ski. But once upon a time I was a runner. Now I’m a lazy person with a boring desk job who happens to climb mountains and occasionally goes for slow jogs, primarily motivated by upcoming marathons and Pokemon Go. And one morning back in September, I woke up and realized I had a marathon coming up in five weeks. Shit!

The Wave of Plebs

My dad was anxious. His question wasn’t “how much of these 26 miles will I walk vs run” or “will I finish” it was “do I bail at mile 9 and walk 4 miles to the start, or bail at mile 17 and walk 6 miles to the start and hopefully get there before she finishes the last 3?” But there we were at the starting line, laughing at how unprepared we were, surrounded by insanely good runners, wondering just how much pain we’d be in after a few hours. I forgot my camelback, so I stuffed plastic water bottles in my pack. My father carried a plastic bottle in his hands. I left the salt tabs at home. I had strongly caffeinated Gu in preparation for the unavoidable bonk. First tip: start slow. So slow. We were in the fourth wave, the Wave of the Plebeians (okay, the second to last wave). And off we were!

Sweet cliffy single track

Awesome single track

Oh, did I mention that the one day I fly to the desert is the one day it’s cloudy/drizzly in the entire second half of 2016? Yeah, it was rainy. In Moab. The desert. But that packed down some of the dust, and made the sandy parts easier to run. I had popped aspirin which is my only hope of easing my calf issues, and it kept them at bay, like a 5/10 on the swollen scale instead of 9/10 like a few of the past runs. And of course, mentality has a huge impact on any race. Everyone was jogging, we were darting to the sides of the trail to take photos and marvel at views and for once I did not bitch when there were bottlenecks in front of us, which is an unfortunate reality with any single track trail race, especially one that has a few scramble sections. Second tip: Take all of the photos. It’s a break without admitting you’re taking a break.

Natural Arch (I’m convinced it’s at mile 4 but I don’t think it is)

We came around the first bend in the trail and I laughed. We had been complaining that red rock canyons look way better in sun, and this year might be boring with the clouds. False. They’re still pretty damn awesome. The first few miles climb, and then you come out near the top of the canyon and follow a single track trail which is glorious. There are rest stops every 5 ish miles, stocked with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, potato chips, oreos (rip off oreos this year, come on!!) more salt tabs, gatorade, soda, and lots of peppy volunteers. Some of the stations were accessible by mountain bike, some by car, and some by huge ridiculous ATV. It’s amazing seeing how far this race has come in the past few years. Third tip: EAT EVERYTHING IN SIGHT. There’s a joke that ultramarathons are more eating competitions than running. Treat long trail races like that too.

Gonna be a bumpy evacuation!

Approaching the bottleneck

At mile 8 was the infamous bottleneck, which wasn’t awful this year, probably due to all of the shorter bottlenecks leading up to it. It’s basically two third class scramble moves, and you can pick your poison. Small chimney with great jugs, or slabby exposed shit, perfect for the “butt scoot” technique. I went with the slabby exposed shit, because no one else was, and I’m impatient. They have volunteers standing at the base of each to spot people, but not everyone is comfortable on a spicy 3rd class downclimb after running 8 miles. And if you slip, you’ll just take the volunteer with you. One woman got stuck in the chimney, so my father helped spot her while I waited, my slabby shortcut now a moot victory. Past that, it’s down to the canyon floor, where the half marathon splits off at mile 9 and you are left likely by yourself to continue the marathon.

Neat mini tunnel on the out and back

There’s an out-and-back right after the half marathon splits off, and once you’ve finished that (~2 miles) you’re back on track for the rest of the marathon. It’s amazing how many people just do the half. You go from being in a line of people along a single track to maybe having 3 people in your field of vision at any moment. Suddenly the scale of the canyons is real, and you can tell how enormous everything is.

This is where you can get pumped for mile 15. You think you can see the entire climb from the base, but you can’t. You wrap around the top corner, only to continue climbing. It gains something like 1300ft in one mile, which is just peachy after you’ve run 15 miles.You’re tiny, the guy hundreds of feet in front of you is dwarfed by the distant pillar, the people behind you are a trail of ants, the trailer at the base of the climb gets smaller and smaller as you ascend to the canyon rim. Tip four: Enjoy the views. Look around. Just don’t trip.

The climb that is mile 15

The first year, we tried to run the whole thing. I died. The second year, we hiked it. My dad had cramps and bailed at the top. This year, we hiked it again. And groaned about it. And complained at every corner even though we already knew there were false corners and top outs. And chatted with those around us (my dad picked out a guy’s South African accent after three words, amazing) as they trudged up the same death climb. Between his weight lifting and my mountaineering, we were actually pretty damn prepared for this section. As usual we snapped our picture at the top, for once both looking happy instead of me dead (first time) or dad dead (second time). And from there, your’e on top of the world, cruising across desert with towers and huge drops in the background and an expanse of slick rock mountain biking trails ahead of you. Hope your shoes have good tread!

Looking back about halfway up the mile 15 climb

And this is where you end up. Cruising on another planet

This is the best part of the race. The beginning is cool, the climb at mile 15 is amazing because you watch the close landmarks shrink as mountains and canyons grow in the distance, but miles 16-23 are just phenomenal. So keep your mental game strong, because this is where you want to be alert. Rolling slick rock, awesome rock formations, a windy trail that occasionally disappears (it gets more and more well marked every year, we definitely lost it the first year), and the runners are so spread out you really only have to deal with one or two other people at a time. It’s just you, cruising through unbelievable terrain, and that’s why I trail run.

Even I barely fit through the end of this. Turn sideways and scoot.

It got tough around mile 18. We saw the sign for mile 18 and my dad said “oh thank god that’s a mental boost.” I made some joke about feeling pretty good, and he responded “yeah well I’d like to lie down and vomit.” A mile or so after, I started to feel it. The rolling slick rock goes from super easy to run (slabby, mellow downhill) to difficult (slabby sidehilling or uphill or quick pivoting turns) to nearly un-runnable (some low class scramble moves). Eventually, I am interrupted while blabbing away about something, and I head “I am going to count my steps. Don’t talk to me for a few minutes.” So I shut up, and let my dad count his steps while I trailed along behind him. Bring on the caffeinated gu! (Tip Six: Caffeine) Luckily, around mile 21 or 22, you pop onto a smooth trail that runs downhill along the river, and that’s where we found Charlie Kelly. (Tip Seven: Find Charlie Kelly)

Such neat terrain

Anyone who watches Always Sunny immediately knows who I’m talking about. Through our mile 22 tunnel vision comes Charlie’s voice, floating up from behind us, talking about how miserable it is that you have to run past the finish line and do a 5k loop to actually finish the marathon. How he tried so hard through mile 23 last year and then crashed when he realized there were still three miles left past the finish line. Setting everyone’s expectations as low as possible. And I remember those last three miles, because it sucks running past the finish line and listening to the top runners finish while you’re slogging up a sand dune. And a waist deep river to cross, which my father had been praying for. IT’s like a short ice bath for sore legs. Except this year, it was a dry puddle of mud. Damn you, global warming. Okay, tip Eight: Coca Cola. Just chug some coke at this rest stop and you’ll basically be in heaven.

Just so cool to run

Ladders! We stuck with the same group of ~4 for the last three miles. The guy in front is basically Charlie Kelly.

The last three miles are a mini obstacle course, with ladders and hand lines and pipes to run through and neat caves that I always forget to photograph. Oh, and a nice prickly pear cactus that I did not notice until it was sticking through my foot. I couldn’t even tell what had happened besides feeling like flames were shooting up my foot until my dad yelled “You stepped on a cactus!” and my brain worked it out. The spines had gone straight through the bottom of my shoe and into my foot. Painful and quite surprising. I hobbled to the side of the trail in a cactus free zone to start plucking the spines out.

“Look like you’re running!”

Shortly after, my adducter seized, which is an interesting feeling. I don’t usually get muscle spasms, but they’re a pretty well noted side effect of Accutane, not to mention I was probably dehydrated or low on salt despite my best efforts. Whatever, it was the cactus leg, and who needs an adductor or a foot? We only had like a mile left, and it was the mile through the parking lot, which means shut up and count your steps (tip Nine: Learn to enjoy rote tedious activities while in mild amounts of pain) and then make sure you look good crossing the finish line (rule #1 is always look good, right? #2 is don’t die, and #3 is if you do die, look good doing it). We didn’t quite nail the looking good part, but who cares! We had finished, and despite zero training, we had done almost the exact same time as the previous two marathons. We may not have been as in shape, or as well trained, but we ran a smart race.

The worst stretch. Going through a parking lot.

So I guess the answer to “How to run a fake marathon” is lots of caffeine, lots of salt pills, walk all the uphills, take tons of pictures, and have Charlie Day help you along for a few hours. Bonus points if you sunburn your terribly Accutane-ravaged nose in your 6 hours in desert drizzle. Crap.

Woo!

Enchantments Trail Run

Posted on October 24, 2016 by evejakubowski

Upon reaching the top of Aasgard. Cooper running towards Isolation Lake with McClellan on the left and Little Annapurna on the right

Edit: Two year anniversary of the blog!! Well, two weeks late, but close enough!

So I have vacation days to burn. Like, a lot of vacation days. And it had been rainy for a week, and was supposed to be rainy for another two weeks, and my weekends were occupied with SAR training, visitors, and out of state trips, so I wasn’t going to be in the Cascades for a while. And that is the type of thought that keeps me up at night. But Tuesday looked promising, and I had a bucket list item to knock off. So I texted Cooper, my default trail running partner (see Hinman last year) who pretended like he had plans until Monday night when he realized oh shit, tomorrow’s Tuesday, wanna meet at the Snow Lakes trailhead tonight? Yeah buddy!!! 10/11/2016, time to get after it!

Distance: 19 miles? I think it’s technically 18, but I know we went further with all the excitedly running in circles that we did
Elevation: 4400ft, 7800ft highest point (all the way up Aasgard, then all downhill from there!)
Weather: 20’s and sunny up to maybe 30’s and sunny? I miss running in cold crisp weather
Commute from Seattle: Just over two hours with no traffic if you don’t drive like a granny
Did I Trip: ~~A stubbed toe, but no genuine wipeouts! Ha! Get at me!~~ Nevermind, I forgot I tripped 3 feet from the trailhead

Obligatory shot of Dragontail

So we met at the trailhead. I had an unfairly good night of sleep in the back seat of my car, which doesn’t quite fit a person but with some fidgeting and a willingness to sleep in a 3d diagonal position, you’ll be fine. I guess I’m getting used to it. Sorry mom. You should know I laughed inside when your immediate reaction to me buying an xterra was “please don’t sleep in it.”

We got up at 6ish, packed up, hopped in Cooper’s car, and drove to the Colchuck trailhead. I left my microspikes in the car. I had been told there was no snow on the trails, just the tops of the peaks. I TRUSTED YOU! And I traded my Smartwool socks for Farm to Feet socks like the traitor that I am (part of my job is working for Smartwool).

Tree tunnel walking towards Aasgard

We hit the trail a little after 7. Anyone who knows me knows that my calves are being problematic right now, and they were terrible on the way up to Colchuck. I forgot aspirin. They swelled up pretty quickly, the bastards. I am too impatient for this crap. Luckily Cooper was okay just hiking, and so we trekked up to the lake. We passed a group that had gotten stuck out overnight (one was wearing shorts!) but was in good spirits. We asked if they needed food or water, they declined. They probably just wanted to get the hell off the trail. I get that, I remember ripping Tony a new one because he wanted to make coffee at 6am when we had just spent a night rapping down Cutthroat.

Neat cloud play and a lone larch on the way up Aasgard

At the lake, we ran down to the boulders by the water to get the obligatory pictures of Dragontail over Colchuck. There was one pesky cloud in the way, but everything else was sunny. We ran into a few groups who had spent the night, all of whom said microspikes would be a necessity. I was torn – 50% of me said ha, bullshit, and 50% of me said EVE WHY’D YOU LEAVE THE SPIKES IN THE CAR. Cooper brought his yaktrax, we decided we’d split one and one if it came down to it. I mean, at the very least we’d end up with a good story about a ~~dangerous~~ hilarious slip with one yaktrak.

We got to the base of Aasgard, and it ended up being fine without spikes. If it was hard I’d make an ass-gard (see what I did there) joke but it was fine. Just know where to put your feet. Larches were scarce and more orange than yellow, but I was hopeful that the dusting of snow would make up for it. I had only seen the Enchantments frozen over last April, I had no idea what the lakes or terrain really looked like. We reached the top pretty quickly with only two ish points where microspikes would have been nice. I gotta give my Saucony Peregrines some credit, they keep passing my expectations.

Cooper running next to Isolation lake

Witches’ Tower, Dragontail, and another lone larch

Getting to the top was like reaching the freaking gates of heaven. My calves had loosened up halfway up Aasgard. When we stepped out into the sunlight at the foot of Dragontail and saw the turquoise Isolation Lake below Little Annapurna sparkling surrounded by fresh snow we starting running in every direction, like that dog that was supposed to ignore all the toys but instead went crazy and couldn’t decide which one he wanted to pick up. Crisscrossing paths, leaving footprints in fresh snow, hopping from rock to rock like the floor is lava and taking pictures with numb stiff fingers and tripping over surprise rock wells and snowdrifts with frozen eyelashes laughing with that feeling of wonder like a kid seeing snow for the first time. Pure fucking joy. I downed some goldfish and drank straight from the camelback since the hose was completely frozen. Who even cares?!? Look where we are!! Shit, I’ve been here before and I’m still being blown away! I’m not defined by my eight million hours a week with zero pay desk job, or how well I do hair and makeup in the morning, or whether I filtered my life on Facebook enough so no one thinks I ever deal with anything shitty. The past month had been brutal, but here I was. This is why I’m here. Because I like pretty things that are hard to get to. Like the highly esteemed Lloyd Banks of G Unit once said, “I ain’t here to save the world, just roll up a blunt.” Except it isn’t a blunt, it’s just the escapism of disappearing to mountains. Sorry guys, I guess I’m saying it took me 24 years to realize I’m a selfish bastard.*

Slippery slabs, yeah baby! Peregrines crushed it!!

We ran across a small divide between two lakes, and scrambled down some slabs off trail across from Little Annapurna. Microspikes be damned. I was disappointed at the lack of larches, but fresh snow against sparkling water made up for it. I got a picture of Cooper jumping across a river (okay, I might have made him do it a few times, but let’s be real, it’s awesome). We snacked on a rock looking at the back of McClellan, watching tiny hikers following the trail in the distance. There were more larches on this side, yellow against the snow, lit up in the sun. We dropped down to the trail and followed it down to the Inspiration Lake. I thought the Enchantments consisted of like 4 lakes. Every lake we got to I was convinced was the last but it just kept coming. Inspiration Lake was amazing. The larches were growing in density, and my mind was just exploding. Trail runs are awesome because it’s such a cool feeling, you move so quickly that everything is a flash and even 30 minutes later it feels like it was a dream. Were we just by Dragontail? And now we’re looking at this? It’s like having your mind blown while high on endorphins for 8 hours straight.

Come on it’s awesome

The view from our snack spot (hiker for scale bottom right)

We snapped more pictures running through trails of larches around Inspiration Lake and Leprechaun Lake. I barley recognized them. I tried to find where Tony and I had camped, but it must have been off the usual trail, or I’m just an idiot. I snapped more pics of my shoes. We came across a few guys who had jumped into the freezing cold water. I strongly considered joining, because who doesn’t want to jump in an alpine lake on such a beautiful day just for the sake if it. After 30 seconds, logic kicked in, and I realized it’d take a solid 10 minutes of wrestling with leggings with my bare ass sitting on snow covered in near freezing water to get leggings back on, so I’m gonna go ahead and veto that idea and revisit it later. We carried on, cruising over flat trail, greeting the few campers we saw, trail trampled enough that microspikes were not necessary. There were a few icy sections, but nothing that was a game changer. I don’t think we even had a true wipeout.

Prusik Peak over Inspiration and Perfection Lakes. I tried to save Prusik for larch season but it got too cold too fast this year.

#runanywhere McClellan over Perfection Lake

The larches went on forever, and I have zero complaints about that. It was a Tuesday, I could have been at my desk writing vlookups and macros and shit and instead here I was in the sun remembering why I liked running and why I moved to Seattle to begin with and wondering how I had managed to have such a freaking lazy September when all of this exists. Yeah, I know, cheese curds are delicious, and so are ice cream and hot pockets and mac n cheese but they don’t trump mountains. We ran across more slabs, more snow, more larches, still amazing. There was a flaw, though. We didn’t see any goats. I swear, wildlife avoids me.

Easily one of my favorites of Cooper

Larch madness!

At Lake Viviane I laughed reminiscing on my misery with Tony when we crested the ridge back in April and realized how much further we had to go. This time around, it was the opposite. All downhill from here! We pounded down some slabs (which, it turns out, I thoroughly enjoy running – why doesn’t that translate to rock climbing?!) and found the trail down to Snow Lake, snapping pictures of the last of the larches. Snow Lake was very low, with neat patterns of the water level in the soil. Cooper didn’t ask for a snack, he just…. decided. We popped out to overlook the lake and he sat down and declared “I am having a snack, right here.” Okay! I whipped out the goldfish.

More slab jogging down to Snow Lake

Snack break at Snow Lake, Temple in the background

We cut across the soil to the end of the lake. It was absurdly soft and springy and fun to run, though I know we broke some LNT principles. Shhh. We’re sorry. In a few hundred years when the lake fills up again it’ll wash away our footprints. Oh wait, there will be no lake at that point. Relax, the snow will take care of the footprints. I picked up a bunch of Gu wrappers and paper towels and stuff others had left behind, so it kind of cancels out, right?

Neat marks from the water level

Cooper let me set the pace (yay!) which makes sense since we all know he can outrun me. I came upon my second wind somewhere around the north end of Nada Lake, and it was all easy jogging from there. We passed a couple who had tried Prusik only to find it too icy to climb, which settled my disappointment at not getting around to it this summer. There was a rock slide across the trail at one point that made it tougher to follow (I get into the classic “zone out and run” state of being on trails and forget to pay attention) but we snapped back to clarity and found it quickly, and from there it was a matter of however many switchbacks it took to get back down to the Snow Lakes trailhead. The fall foliage along the trail was still pretty, and I couldn’t help but snap a few photos of climbers on Outer Space, an awesome 5.9 climb with a bomber 5th and 6th pitch that I will someday lead.

Time to say bye to shiny lakes and larches and that alpine feel

Yeah I know, why even post this now? Because we had a few hours of this remaining!

We started whooping at each switchback when we could see the parking lot (with my shiny yellow xterra standing out from a mile away as usual) and soon enough we had crossed Snow Creek. Like 50ft left to the car! “I’M GONNA RUN THE LAST UPHILL” I announced since we had been jogging nonstop for the past 7 or 8 miles. Utter determination. “EVEN THOUGH MY SHOE JUST CAME UNTIED.” Cooper laughed. “All the way to the car!!” “How funny would it be if I tripped over my shoelace just feet from the parking lot?” And with that said, I tripped over my shoelace, a mere 3 feet from the parking lot.

By the time we were in the forest, this was a dream

I tied my shoe, and ran into a guy asking if we had seen his friends. We had to think about that one for a bit, we had passed so many people. We decided that yes, we had. And then we ran the last 10 feet to the car. Success!!

We had a stretch break and looked up the valley, where nearly all of the ground we had covered was out of sight. I may whine about the hype around the Enchantments, but I gotta say, it’s a pretty sweet place. Just pick up the trash when you’re there. Go beyond LNT, because there’s enough crap up there you can definitely walk out with more than what you took in. And to all the runners, stop dropping your Gu packets. The bright colored tabs on top clash with the larches.

Cooper taking a pic of Little Annapurna

*Joke’s on you, I’ve been like this since I was 2.

Earl and Bean Peaks

Posted on July 30, 2015 by evejakubowski

This will be a quickie. I almost didn’t blog about it, but was flipping through old pictures and though “wow, that looks gorgeous! Wait, was that Earl? Damn!” and here we are. This was way back on 6/19/2015, thank you wta.org for keeping my trip report because I couldn’t remember!

Distance: 8 miles round trip
Elevation: 3900ft gain, 7000ft highest point (Earl)
Weather: 50’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:30 without traffic
Did I Trip: No but I nearly fell over when a pika shrieked at me

Trail along the river

Okay, so the main reason I wasn’t going to post about this was because it felt like… not a failure, but like a below average day. I intended to run and scramble the entire ridgeline from Earl to Beanto Mary and Judi, maybe add Volcanic Neck and Devil’s Head in there. But when I got there, I just felt lousy. My legs felt like lead, my head wasn’t in the game, meh. So I headed up to Earl and figured I’d play it by ear.

The trail along the creek was very different from the last time I was here. Way more green, more plants, and the stream was lower, so I didn’t nearly lose one of my poles to it like my trip up to Bean Peak. At the first clearing, I ran into a group who asked me if this was the basin with the meadows. I laughed and said no, and looking relieved one woman said good, this was a little underwhelming! They asked how far the basin was (a little under a mile) and decided to continue on. I told them not to worry, the meadows at the basin were much prettier. I gave them quick directions (go left when you cross the creek for the second time!) so they wouldn’t accidentally end up on Earl. I know they made it, because when I was up on the ridge between Earl and Bean, I could hear a few of the girls laughing and shouting.

Stuart starting to peek above Bean

To reiterate, when you cross the creek towards the end of the trail, the path to the left takes you up to Bean Creek Basin, and the path to the right takes you up to Earl. I went right. The trail switchbacks up the slope gradually, dotted with horse poop if anyone needs compost material. It’s mostly under tree cover until the ridge, but you get a few sneak peaks of Stuart slowly rising above Bean as you gain elevation. When you reach the saddle, don’t be misled, Earl is still a solid half mile or so away. Hang left and follow the ridge to the summit, which is more of a hike than a scramble.

Views are awesome. I can see why this peak is so popular. The entire Stuart range is spread out below you, and everything between you and Stuart has a red tint, which makes Stuart’s dark granite look quite dramatic. I sat down to have a snack, and greeted a few older ladies who were at the top, who were full of recommendations for hikes and showered me with compliments about how I was hiking alone (with the “be careful!” disclaimers). Hell, if I’m still hiking Earl at that age, I’ll consider myself a success. They knew so much!

Looking down the ridge to Bean with Ingalls and Stuart in the background

They turned around to head down before I did, which is good because they might have thought I was nuts for going to scramble from Earl to Bean. Alone. But it didn’t look that bad, and I knew it could be done. I knew there were some small cliffs directly below me, so I dropped down to the Bean Creek Basin side just a bit to traverse to the beginning of the ridge just below the cliffs. That mean some light class II scrambling, some veggie belays, some scree slopes, and plenty of checking how close to the cliffs I was. Eventually, I popped out along the ridge. Woo! Time to run.

I gotta work on my ten-second-timer selfies

There’s nothing like running along a ridgeline. Especially one where the Stuart range is your backdrop. There were a few rocky sections to scramble over once in a while, but there’s a faint boot path along the dusty sections. Coming up to Bean, I ended up on a class 3+ scramble, so you can definitely find an easier route but you know what, I was enjoying myself. Until I met the damn pika. Halfway through maneuvering myself up a short (~9ft) chimney, I hear some scuttling followed by a shriek. I literally thought someone had fallen and gotten injured, or some paranormal mummy was coming after me (I never said my fears were rational). I froze and whipped around to see a Pika staring angrily. Okay, you tiny bastard, I’ll hurry up just don’t do that again. I popped over the top of the chimney and quickly got out of sight of the pika. Freaking rodent. I may be a wimp but I’ll take you.

Pika

I hopped up to Bean Peak to soak in the views again. Summit register was nice and dry this time around, so I signed it and had another snack. I debated continuing on to either Mary/Judi or Volcanic Neck/Devil’s Head, but was feeling lethargic and lazy, so I just went back down to the basin. It was totally different from when I was there last time (there was snow last time!) but I eventually intersected the trail after plenty of farting around off trail (you can see where you’re going, so it’s not that bad, just don’t kill all the flowers) and started running again.

Secret flower patch!

I came across the most gorgeous secret patch of flowers while I was at it. Maybe a half mile from the Bean Creek Basin trail, towards Bean Peak. I couldn’t believe the colors. Red, yellow, purple, green, all in one patch. I just want to roll all over it. But then they’d die, so I settled for a few pictures, and a snapchat to make sure everyone knew how beautiful my life is. After that, I continued back along the trail, and was back at the car pretty quickly. The few miles back are a very, very gradual downhill (uphill when you’re starting) so it was both quick and easy on the knees. Yes!

Back at the car I again debated a second hike. I had all day, and I had only used up a few hours. Nah, still lazy. Lazy day. But you know what? If scrambling from Earl to Bean Peak is my lazy day, I have a pretty good life. And the mountains will all be there in the future, so I’ll tackle that full ridgeline someday.

Note: My summit panoramas from last time I went up Bean and from this time are nearly identical. Check out last time if you want a late-April/mid-June comparison. Some snow vs no snow!

Bonus pic: Butterfly patch!

Mt. Hinman (via East Fork Foss/Necklace Valley)

Posted on July 19, 2015 by evejakubowski

Looking at Daniel and Pea Soup Lake from near the top

Looking at Daniel and Pea Soup Lake (and Stuart on the right!) from near the top

Holy crap, where to even start. I hadn’t been on a long trail run since the Moab marathon in November, but my weekly mileage was decent and I was feeling fit so when Cooper successfully got Wednesday off from work, we figured we’d hit the trails. I didn’t feel like driving three hours to Cashmere or North Twin Sister, so I made an impulsive decision to go see if we could bag Hinman in a day. I had already done the research, and Cooper had to be back by 7, so the timing was perfect. I knew we’d have to run as much as we could and hopefully wouldn’t lose too much time navigating, and of course had to pray that no one would crash and block all of i5 on the way back, but there was a chance.

24 miles round trip
~5900ft elevation gain (net), 7492ft highest point
Weather: 50’s and windy and cloudy to 70’s and sunny and calm
Commute from Seattle: 1:30 without traffic
GPX file here (dropbox, email me if it does not work – NOTE: It doesn’t have altitude, and it does miss the first two miles of the Necklace Valley trail! You’ll catch up to it before any navigation is required though)
Did I Trip: Yes! I only ate it once though, and it was in the one patch of sand along the trail. Nailed it.

Starting out in soft forest

We were a little late getting started, but that meant I had time to devour two bacon/egg/cheese sandwiches from a gas station, switch my license plates to the correct ends of my car (yes, I’m an idiot), buy a bunch of snacks, and organize my pack. We left Seattle around 6:30am, and arrived at the trailhead around 8. Spent a few minutes getting organized, and we took off with me in the lead. Because I’m the best, obviously.

Foss River

Just kidding, it’s because I’m the slow one. Cooper casually runs like 80 mile weeks, so there was no chance he was leading. He even said straight up in the first mile “sometimes I push it too much and burn the other person out and they die towards the end, so don’t let me do that.” Okay Super Cooper, we’re going my slow ass forever pace and no faster, because I’m not being the running buddy who dies a few miles from the trailhead and has to hike back. It may not be fast, but we’ll get there and back with no issues.

Running past Jade Lake (on the way back)

The first five miles of the trail are easy. 600ft of elevation gain total over those five miles, and it’s mostly soft, dirt trail through forest. There are a few overgrown-ish sections, but that was the worst of it. My legs had been feeling great from the beginning, which is rare when I drive out to trails. Usually the first mile or so sucks as everything loosens. The GPX file I had did not include the first ~1.5 miles, but eventually you come to a bridge crossing the east fork of Foss River. From there, the trail gets a little steeper, averaging ~800ft/mile gain. It switchbacks up a small talus slope before entering forest again.

Cabin past Jade Lake

At this point, the skies had turned from sunny and blue to cloudy. God. Dammit. I was bummed. I didn’t come all this way to run 23 miles for a foggy summit. Come on, Hinman. I started trying to justify it. You don’t even know if you’ll make it, this can just be a recon trip, it’s still a good workout, the lakes will be beautiful… meh. We continued on.

Jade Lake is about 7.5 miles in, and it was a morale booster finally reaching it. I hadn’t turned on Strava because I was worried about phone battery, so I wasn’t sure how far we had come or how far we had to go. There are two random mile markers for miles 7 and 8 (there might be more that we just missed) but those were good to see. Beyond Jade Lake, we found a cabin in the woods! More like a shanty/lean-to, but it was still a neat find. You’ll also pass Opal Lake and if you’re willing to explore, there are a few others as well, but we had a time limit and a destination to reach. Onward!

Head up and then left, around the trees jutting out on the left side. You’ll re-enter the trees farther up.

We got to the basin below La Bohn Gap and I finally had to whip out the map. Okay, we’re heading up and to the left. No cairns in sight. How far left? Maybe we can scramble up the middle so we can get a view of the left and scout out a trail? Do we go around those trees? Right when we were deliberating, we head “LA BOHN GAP?!” and look up to see a woman coming around the bend to the left. “YES!” we shouted, and she replied saying that’s were she was coming from! We hopped along the boulders up to her and stopped to chat. She had crampons and an ice axe, and the first thing I asked was whether she needed them. Nope! Apparently even La Bohn Lakes have snow this time of year during a year with normal snow fall. Not this year. She looked at our footwear and laughed a bit. “Hinman looked pretty runnable… which is what you look like you’re doing!” She had camped solo at the lakes for two nights, and headed down when it got cloudy since it looked like weather might be moving in. Luckily (she laughed again) it was clearing up. And it was! The clouds were parting, and patches of blue sky were showing. There was hope!

We thanked her profusely and continued up the boulder field with a few extra directions from her. Basically, from the basin, you head left around a patch of forest, and then you’ll find cairns. Don’t head towards the waterfall far left, which is what my map said, and don’t head straight up to the low point either. The cairns you eventually see will have you hike alongside the forest for a bit until a climbers’ path appears, and then you cut left into the trees (more like shrubbery) and go straight up to La Bohn Gap.

It’s so gorgeous I could barf

Ugh, La Bohn just STOP

Okay. Freaking Washington. La Bohn Lakes might be the most gorgeous area I’ve ever seen out here. The lakes are unbelievably clear and blue and just stunning, there are rocky alpine spires and ridgelines everywhere you look. I got a burst of energy and started running again (we had hiked the boulder fields and climbers’ path) and essentially ran in circles next to the lake until my brain calmed down enough to take out the camera and start snapping pictures. Cooper, go stand over there! No, over there! Wait, more to your left! Okay okay that’s perfect oh my god look where we ARE you know wen something is just overwhelmingly beautiful? Take that feeling of awe and combine it with runner’s high, and you might as well be on drugs.

Summit Chief rising over one of La Bohn Lakes

Looking back down at La Bohn Gap

There are several lakes up in La Bohn Gap that you can check out. The whole area is a playground for adults. From the basin below La Bohn Gap, you can get up to Tank Lakes, the other side of the Necklace Valley (West Fork Foss River), Iron Cap, and then on our side you had La Bohn Lakes, Hinman, traverse to Daniel if you’re ambitious, there’s so much to do! Trail running is a much different form of appreciation for the outdoors than backpacking. You don’t sit down and soak in views as much, instead you’re running along the ridge line with a ridiculous panorama in every direction because you’re on top of the world. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. It’s an incredible feeling.

We took a quick snack break at the lakes, and refilled water since we knew there wouldn’t be any once we were up on the ridge. And then we started to pick our way up the boulder field between the two biggest lakes in La Bohn Gap, aiming for the ridge line we knew would take us to Hinman.

How good would these guys look in snow? So good. Bears Breast and Summit Chief over Lake Rowena

Running past the Hinman Glacier

Gaining the ridge, views open up below you. As always, it’s a great moment. The Hinman Glacier is pretty small, but it’s there, and it was just about the only snow/ice in the area. Most of the ridge line was completely melted out, which meant for lots of boulder hopping. I couldn’t help but think how gorgeous this area would be in winter. You can’t run it in a day, but I love how rocks, ice, and snow look. I’ll take a few days to get back there when snow hits again.

Fighter jet!

You can see the true summit when you first gain the ridge. It’s the black, wall of jagged vertical rocks jutting out along the east end of the ridge. We followed the ridge, mostly hiking, and I couldn’t believe where we were. Bear’s Breast and Summit Chief look amazing, and Daniel is a hulking massif to the east. In the other direction, Glacier and Sloan were both out. The sky cover was perfect. Some puffy clouds, some wispy clouds, just enough that we had tons of views but weren’t baking to death up on the boulder fields. We gained the false summit (oops) and had to climb back down and over to the true summit. At one point, two fighter jets flew overhead. We heard them before we saw them come swinging around a peak, with the sound coming from space a little bit behind them. I remember the first time I heard them in the mountains, I hit the floor I was so scared. Now I hear it and I get excited and start looking. They made two laps, but the first was the best. So cool.

Cooper on the scramble to the summit

The scrambling along the true summit (the jagged, vertical rocks I mentioned) was trickier than expected. There were a few fourth class moves, and the rock was very loose without great handholds. We didn’t make it all the way to the eastern end, but being within a few feet of the highest point was enough for me to count it. Even if I stood next to that tallest spire, I’d never get on top of it, so we’ll call it a day.

Panorama from just below the true summit

Negotiating the last few steps (WHO LIKES SHORT SHORTS)

Negotiating the last few steps, Daniel and Stuart in the background (WHO LIKES SHORT SHORTS)

I snagged a few panoramas and pictures of the views, and we headed back down low to take a break back at the lakes where it wasn’t as windy. At Cooper’s urging (Cooper who runs scree slopes for fun) I decided to give running across talus a try. And so, for the first time, I ran across a talus field. More like an expedited-running-form-boulder-hop, and I still hesitated before some of the bigger steps and when I couldn’t pick a good line quickly enough, but it was still a really cool experience. I ran up to Cooper laughing at one point (he had to stop and wait a few times along this section), because I realized if someone told me last fall I’d be running talus fields on top of Hinman, I’d say you were crazy. But there we were.

I had a trail running customer ask me the other day how you do it. I had mentioned one of my favorite trail running loops close to Seattle (Melakwa Lake, since you can connect to so many other lakes in the area) and she looked surprised, and said the reason she was getting hiking boots was because she had hiked that exact trail and thought it was too rocky for her running shoes. She had mostly run around Cougar and Tiger mountains, and wanted to branch out. My answer was time and practice. And patience. And maybe a high pain tolerance. Going slowly, tripping a million times, stubbing toes everywhere. I showed her my scabby calves from the past few days and told her I’m more scratched up from trails this past week than a five year who keeps falling off the monkey bars on the playground. But it’s true. You get better, and soon you’re flying over trails like that without a thought. Running across the talus fields was like a puzzle you have to figure out quickly. I’m at the point where I wonder if it’ll ever become second nature, but that’s what I thought about rocky/rooty trails at first too.

Running back down the ridge with Bears Breast and Summit Chief in the distance

Clouds moved in a bit more as we got back down to La Bohn. We picked a different route on the way down to save time: when it’s a talus field, the whole slope is your kingdom. Quick break at La Bohn again, this time in the clouds. It’s amazing how different lakes can look in clouds versus sun. Sun lights up the colors and really shows you how clear they are, whereas in clouds they often just look blue. Still a stunning area.

Back down to La Bohn

Back down to the basin, and from there, we knew the rest of the way would be 100% legitimately runnable. We flew down. On the way up we had hiked the three steeper miles, but on the way down, that’s just a footwork game. I insisted on a quick snack at a campsite after the first bridge. I can tell I’m hungry when Gu starts to sound delicious, and that caramel macchiato gu was singing my name. After that, it was five or so short miles back to the trailhead, which is where we learned that the GPX file for some reason doesn’t include the first 1.5 or so miles from the trailhead out. We were back in the car at 5:30, and in Seattle just after 7. Would have been earlier if not for traffic. Either way, I was home just in time to move the last of the furniture from my old apartment, and immediately went to bed. Woke up the next morning, surprised to find that my legs were mostly fine from the previous day. You know what that means? Next time will be faster and farther!

We were 100% convinced this was a bird. It’s a log. I won’t tell you how long we stared.

Alta Mountain, Lila Lake, Rampart Lakes , & Rachel Lake

Posted on June 23, 2015 by evejakubowski

Ridge leading up to Alta (you can see the false summit)

Well, I had a half day off from work, and I thought it might finally be time to tackle Alta Mountain. Third time’s a charm, right? The first time I ran out of time (and was late to work, except it turned out I wasn’t actually scheduled), and the second time I was turned back by cornices and avalanche slopes. The third time… success! Made it to the top, and then some.

Distance: 14.1 miles (12 to the peak of Alta and back)
Elevation Gain: 4,440ft (3300 to Alta, 6151 highest point)
Weather: 60’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 1:30, not even
Did I Trip: No, but I had my ass handed to me by wind if that counts

We’ll focus on Alta, though Rampart Lakes and Lila Lake were also amazing. And of course, Rachel Lake is a fantastic hike in itself. But I was in the mood for a trail run (freaking finally) and that meant I was going farther.

Flat, lush trail

As I’ve mentioned, the trail starts out nice and flat for the first two miles. I passed the spur trail to Hibox, and briefly considered visiting it again (it was that great). But no, this was about Alta. Alta, you sly, sly bastard. Anyway, this trail is perfect for a run. It has everything. Starts out flat so you get a warm up, then gets a little steeper, throws in more rocks and roots if you need practice with your footwork.

I’ll be honest, I hiked the third mile up to Rachel Lake and up to the ridge. Steep and rocky and rooty are still tough for me to run. My goal was to run back down the steep part. Since the path to Rachel Lake is so clear, I’ll start the detailed part just past it.

Gaining elevation above Rachel Lake

When you get to the lake, hang to the right. There are a bunch of social trails that will take you to the trail that goes up to the ridge, but the most obvious one starts past the sign that says “TRAIL.” Not to be confused with the sign 10 feet away that says “TOILET.” That will take you to a toilet, not to a beautiful ridgeline with views. But you’re welcome to check that out as well.

So the social trails wrap around the right side of the lake, and start switchbacking up the ridge. It becomes more dry and rocky than dirt and roots, but wildflowers start appearing, and Rachel Lake shimmers below as you gain elevation. It’s honestly not as steep as I remember it being. Also, ha! I saw the boulder field I scrambled up when I was up here back in the winter. And of course I postholed to my neck. The boulders are pretty big, with huge spaces between them. I’m lucky I didn’t get hurt. Lesson learned. I also wasn’t that far off from the summer trail, as it turns out. I went over to Snack Rock to compare views from last time to this time.

Lila Lake with Hibox on the left

Once you’re on the ridge, heading left will take you to Rampart Lakes, and heading right will take you to Alta or Lila Lake, depending on what you’re into. Alta was first on my list, so let’s tag that. I started jogging again, because there’s nothing better to run than a ridge.

The trail splits once more, and this time, the left will take you to Alta, and the right will take you to Lila Lake. I’m an idiot (I’m far less aware when I’m running) and went right, only to realize 200 yards later that I was on the wrong trail. So I scrambled across a meadow and some boulders to meet up with the Alta trail, and continued from there. Seriously, look at that pic to your left. I should bump up the pink so the flowers pop more, they looked brighter in real life. Unbelievable.

Obligatory pic of Rainier finally making an appearance

The trail to Alta starts out rolling along knolls covered in grasses and wildflowers. Hibox and Box Ridge hover over Lila Lake and the Alta Mountain Tarns, which I mistakenly thought were part of “Lila Lakes” (plural) until I hopped on WTA to write my trip report. Damn, is it gorgeous. I whined a little bit about being able to see the highway and ski resort to the west, but just keep your head turned.

Stuart peeks between Three Queens and Hibox

Eventually, it gets rockier, and the ridge gets narrower. The trail is always clear, and honestly never felt too exposed. But I lack some sort of developmental protein, because heights and exposure have never bothered me. Think about it, that’s an evolutionary flaw. I’d be more likely to die compared to people who avoid those places.

At one point, the sound of gunshots started ripping through the air. It took me a while to figure out what it was. Rock fall? There was a sheer rocky cliff right there. Wind howling weirdly along the cliff? It was pretty windy. The smoke monster from Lost? That’d suck, and maybe make me actually run at a decent clip. But no, just gunshots. I continued on my merry way, ignorant of whoever was hunting whatever down below me.

Looking north from the summit of Alta, straight at Chikamin

There are a few false summits before the true one, and when I was one peak away, I thought I saw a person standing on the summit! I took a pic so I could show them how bad ass they looked. Upon attaining the true summit, it turns out… it was a pile of rocks. A huge ass cairn, taller than I am, one stone on top of the other. A work of art. I snapped a few pics in every direction, whined about clouds in the distance, and scouted out some routes and peaks along the PCT, which you can see very clearly from Alta. I honestly liked the views from Hibox better since it had such a great angle to see Chikamin, Lemah, Summit Chief, etc. But Hibox is a much trickier and more exposed scramble, so if you’re not too comfortable with that yet, I’d recommend starting with Alta.

Here’s a short time lapse of clouds passing over Daniel behind Chikamin. Neat to see the shadows moving across slopes as well. Some day hopefully I’ll be up here on a true sunny day. As cool as clouds are, these peaks are consistently hidden from me when I’m in the area. Besides the one time I hiked Daniel.

A gust of wind knocked me to my ass just as another runner came up to the summit. I played it cool and pretended like I was taking pictures from sophisticated angles. But in reality, wind: 1, Eve: 0.

Three Queens, Box Ridge, and small tarns on the right

Looking back along the ridge towards Rampart Lakes

I turned back shortly after that and went back along the ridge, soaking in the views of Rainier and Rampart Lakes, glancing back at Lila Lake and Alta and Hibox and everything behind me. Let me tell you how good my gait is running along ridgelines. It’s confidence, I think, because you feel so awesome up there. You just feel stronger. Posture is better, stride is better, I feel faster and more powerful. I get cockier on ridgelines, I think, is what I’m saying. And sometimes I throw my arms out and play the airplane game and wish a helicopter was flying around me taking a sweet panorama of me with everything behind me. That’s what I’ll do when I’m rich someday. I’ve been told you can do it with a gopro, but come on, that’s not as cool.

Upon arriving at the junction of Alta and Lila Lake, I was feeling pretty good. I didn’t run as much on the way up as I had hoped, so… why not keep going? I had run into a hiker trekking up to Lila to spend the night, who had told me it was spectacular and much less visited than Rampart Lakes. One of his favorite parts of the state. I mean that’s a strong recommendation. How could I pass that up? I jogged down the trail.

The first of many tarns

Damn, he was right. There are a ton of tarns to check out, and unbelievably clear blue lakes. I bummed around the area following social trails for a bit before I though I had exhausted all options (turns out I missed a few tarns in the far northwest area of the basin). Around this time I ran out of water. Great. Well, there’s plenty on the trail, so I’ll just.. wait for running water. Taking unfiltered water from a lake freaks me out. I know, I know, the water in the rivers below literally comes from the lakes. Shh.

The tarns I didn’t make it to from above

I took a bunch of pictures of Lila Lakes, and made a mental note to camp there someday. I’ve seen a few trip reports that bushwacked from Lila Lakes over to Park Lakes, and that’s always an option. Or Hibox again, or Alta again, or Rampart Lakes. Which is where I went next!

Lila Lake, maybe, with Hibox in the background

I ran into the same hiker who had recommended Lila snooping around looking for a campsite. I happily greeted him and told him it was his recommendation that inspired me to stop by Lila Lake. He laughed and added that if I had time, I might as well check out Rampart Lakes, since they’re about a half mile from the Alta/Rampart junction. I told him I’d see how my legs felt. And of course, they ended up feeling great.

So towards Rampart Lakes it was. Very different from when I wandered there in the winter, because this time, there was a trail to follow. I was at the lakes within just a few minutes, and checked out some of the bigger ones. Alta doesn’t look nearly as menacing from Rampart Lakes as it feels when you’re hiking it.

Three lakes, one pic! You bet your ass I ran that ridge-ish rock. Rampart Lakes

Still didn’t fill up water, because the river looked murky, and I wasn’t into that. I don’t have a filter. I’m not going to recommend drinking the water straight from the source, but I haven’t been sick yet, and hopefully it’ll stay that way. I turned around to head back to the junction and back down to Rachel Lake (it was like 6pm! So much daylight!) and took out a Gu since I was a little hungry.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Gu, it’s exactly what it sounds like. Goo. An energy paste that comes in various flavors. And usually, you want to hae water right there when you have one. Otherwise, it’s like eating peanut butter while dehydrated, and your mouth gets all dry and sticky and miserable. And that’s what I forgot to consider until I started eating it. I laughed, and ran a little faster to get back to that waterfall below Rachel Lake. I got lost for a hot minute but bushwacked back to the trail (funny how that type of thing doesn’t bother me at all anymore) and soon enough I was back on trail, flying towards Rachel Lake.

Looking up at Alta from Rampart Lakes

When I got just below Rachel Lake, I stopped at the first waterfall/river I saw. I dropped my pack and whipped out the bladder and filled it up and just chugged. Giardia takes what, two weeks to kick in? I’d worry about it in two weeks. That’s what I always say. Someday I’ll be sitting on my couch and be overcome with stomach sickness, backtrack two weeks ago, and realize I’m an idiot. At least no one walked past me. And thank goodness, no kids. I don’t want to be setting a bad example, just in case.

Running back down was perfect. Practice for balance and footwork, nothing too tricky to beat you up, and a nice soft finish down two miles of soft dirt trail cruising back to the car. 14.1 miles, and maybe next time I’ll add Hibox in there too. It really is a great run, and the ridge is like a playground for adults. Lakes, tarns, more lakes, scrambles, peaks, rolling ridges covered in wildflower, exposed rocks, take your pick. Everything is there, there’s something for everyone. You can’t get bored in a place like this. And it’s different every season. I’ve been up there three times now, and every time has been completely different.

Strava map attached here, though some of my route (only like 2%) was off trail so don’t put too much stock into it, though it’s a great guideline. Camp at Lila Lake! It’s really amazing, and feels more secluded than Rampart Lakes. Better views, in my opinion, since Box Ridge is right there. Wake up in the morning and head for Alta, and hit Hibox on the way out if you’re feeling good. You won’t regret it.

Who doesn’t want to run that?

Goat Lake

Posted on May 19, 2015 by evejakubowski

Foggy peak behind Goat Lake

This one’s a shortie. I had the day off, felt like a trail run, and Goat Lake had been on my list since moving here. It’s funny, a lot of the hikes on my original list now pale in comparison to the things I’ve been discovering, but I still feel a need to at least check them out. Whether it’s for an “easy” day, or so I am more capable of answering customers’ questions, or so I can say I did it, it doesn’t matter. And this was finally the day to go to Goat Lake. 5/12/2015, and just sayin, it didn’t live up to its name: no goats to be found.

Distance: 10.4 miles round trip (to the lake’s outlet)
Elevation: 1400ft gain
Weather: 40’s and cloudy
Commute from Seattle: 2 hours without traffic
Did I Trip: Nope (but shout out to my hardship of the day: spiderwebs for lunch)

Upper trail, wide, flat, and green!

The road was completely clear, and actually didn’t even have many potholes. I followed a jeep most of the way there, until they pulled off by the Gothic Basin trailhead. Last time I tried to do Goat Lake, the gravel part of the Mountain Loop Highway had been unpassable in my Honda Accord due to several inches of snow. As much as I miss that car, I’d have made it to Goat Lake easily that morning in what I have now. I pulled up to the trailhead, only car in the lot as usual, and hopped out with my trail running pack. Soon enough, the jeep pulled up – a couple who wasn’t entirely sure where they were going. I remember when I was like that. I’d be lurking along the highway trying to figure out where the hell to go, and now here I am probably capable of drawing a map of the southern half of the loop from scratch. Who’s a dork?

Okay, now that I had the pressure of other people behind me, time to start running. I usually like to walk the first half mile or so (especially after driving for two hours), but it was straight down to business this time. At least until I was solidly ahead of them. So they wouldn’t see me walk/running. Yeah, I know. Back when I had calf issues, I’d plan my sad recovery runs along main roads that had lots of intersecting dead end streets so no one would see me walking if I had to.

Bleeding hearts!

I did stop to look at wildflowers and waterfalls, of which there were plenty. Bleeding hearts! They were one of my favorite flowers as a child, and here I was jogging through patches of purple bleeding hearts covering the ground left and right. I took the upper trail on the way to the lake, figuring I’d take the lower one on the way back. The upper trail is much more gradual and well-groomed. It’s an old road, apparently. Think wide, flat, not too rocky or rooty. Until it rejoins the lower trail. Then it gets a little steeper, and a little more rooted. And of course, spiderwebs here and there for your enjoyment. Not.

Small waterfall

About a half mile from the lake (slightly longer if you follow all of the switchbacks) you can go off-trail to a huge waterfall. I actually missed where the trail turned (I’m far more oblivious on my trail runs than on hikes) and was staring at the waterfall trying to figure out how to get across when I realized the trail probably just goes up to the lake. You can see on the Strava map where I farted around on the way up by the waterfall (I took the switchbacks on the way down).

Getting up to the lake is incredible. The first view you get comes if you sneak through some bushes to the huge log jam, which you can basically hop across right up to the edge of the lake. 10/10 would recommend. You can already see the snowy peaks from there, but I suggest going further along the left side of the lake, where the views are even better. It was mostly cloudy when I was there, but the sun snuck through the clouds for a hot second, and I sprinted to the shore to take a picture.

Foggy peak behind Goat Lake

On the way back, I took the lower trail. I passed the couple in the jeep (“Wait, you already got to the lake?! Wait, you’re RUNNING?? Oh man I’ll never be in shape enough to do that!”) just before where the lower trail and upper trail joined. Ugh, the lower trail had spiderwebs. A plethora of spiderwebs. My caloric intake for the day was probably 15% spiderwebs. You’re welcome, hiker couple, I ate all of them before you got there.

Narrow, windy lower trail

The lower trail is more narrow and windy with much more vegetation, and dips next to the river occasionally. If you like footwork on your runs, take this one instead of the upper trail. It was nice to mix it up, though, and it almost felt like a loop instead of an out-and-back. I was back at the car pretty quickly, and while my splits weren’t amazing, I felt pretty good (maybe the slower pace is why – shh!).

Strava screenshot

I can see why this trail gets so much traffic. The water would have been gorgeously clear and blue in the sun, and even in the clouds and wind, it was still spectacular. Something about the wind whipping across the water made me miss the ocean, and I was glad to have the lake all to myself. If you look real hard at Strava, maybe you can see how many time I ran in circles trying to get 10-second-timer selfies on the logjam. Perhaps you’ll have better luck.

10-second-timer log jam selfie

Yellow Hill & Elbow Peak

Posted on May 15, 2015 by evejakubowski

Another mediocre day on the west side of the Cascades led me to the Teanaways for my first “legitimate” trail run in months. I’m all about those ridgelines, and chose a short, hopefully dry, snow-free one to run. I also decided to give my pair of La Sportiva Synthesis a try since I have them for product testing. They’re technically hiking shoes, but might as well push their limits. Spoiler alert: don’t run in them. Anyway, here’s Elbow Peak, a nicely exposed ridgeline out on the east side of the mountains! Ran 5/6/2015.

Distance: 10 miles round trip (about)
Elevation: 2800ft gain, 5600ft highest point
Weather: everything
Commute from Seattle: 2 hours without traffic
Did I Trip: No, my issues were deeper than tripping this time around

Wildflowers along the trail

I had read some warnings about the 4wd trail beyond the trailhead, but it honestly looked easily driveable. It probably got pretty muddy in the rain, but anyone with any high clearance 4wd car should have a pretty straightforward drive. Most of it was pretty flat, but some areas were deeply rutted. Part of me wanted to drive the road, but I was there for a run, and I didn’t drive two hours to only run a few miles. It had to be at least 10.

There are little spur trails leading away from the road, though they all join it eventually. Once it officially leaves the road, the trail becomes one big rocky rut in sections, which made some stretches to run. Sunny blue skies at first made the wildflowers light up, and there were plenty. The trail was admittedly steeper than I had expected, so I walked pretty routinely on the steeper sections. Motivation to get in shape. Shady sections after about 2 miles in had patches of snow, but nothing that I felt required traction or poles. Which is great, because I brought neither.

Ingalls and the Stuart Range

Yellow Hill is a hike in itself. It’s about 6 miles round trip, and gives you a small glimpse of Stuart. From Yellow Hill you it’s a ridge walk over to Elbow Peak (about another two miles), and since that’s the part I was looking forward to, it felt like the adventure didn’t start until I was past Yellow Hill. I descended the slope and hit the ridge only to realize the sky was divided in two: crappy weather to the right, sunny weather to the left. Hmm. We’ll see what develops.

Looking towards Elbow along the ridge

I saw my first dust devil too. I heard a whooshing wind sound, and turned around to see dirt, leaves, and debris spinning in a small circle about 15 feet away from me, moving to the left. Freaked me out at first until it dissipated after maybe two minutes of wandering the ridgeline. Some areas along the ridge were rocky, and I dipped below to avoid scrambling since I was on a roll. I kept jogging up towards Elbow, and was there before I knew it. It’s an odd summit, I didn’t totally know where the top was so I tagged few high points and hoped I happened to stumble across the true summit.

Left to right: Lemahs, Chimney Rock/Overcoat peaks, Summit Chief, Bear’s Breast, Hinman, Daniel

And at the true summit, I discovered the Lemahs, Overcoat and Chimney Rock peaks, Summit Chief, and Bears Breast. That’s a skyline that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before, and I was intrigued. I’ve never seen Daniel out of the clouds either. Seems like the Lemahs are pretty remote, but I’ll find time to at least get close to them this summer, and I’ve already got plans for Daniel. I had no idea what the peaks were, so I snapped a few pictures and posted on wta.org hoping I’d get a response. As usual, I did – thanks LDistel!

Stuart range with weather moving in on the right

I turned back, and saw the weather moving towards my ridge. Great. I’m going to be running back through the rain. Might as well get it over with. It was still sunny where I was, so I figured it couldn’t be that bad. No one minds a warm drizzle.

I was wrong. Within five minutes it dropped 10 degrees and started hailing. I was still on the open ridge, which was fairly short. Which I appreciated, because as soon as I entered the trees, I heard the crack BUHBOOOOM of thunder. “GOOD!” I shouted and glared at no one, and kept jogging. Oh, did I mention that I don’t bring much when I run? I had some food, a liter of water, and a soft shell. No rain jacket, no puffy layers, nothing for my legs. Well, maybe it’d be motivation to not stop.

Where’d Stuart go!?

Also wrong. Not even a thunderstorm can motivate my lazy ass. Getting back up Yellow Hill had one steep sections (also rutted) which I walked. Again. I’ll whip my ass into shape eventually. First run back in the mountains I’ll give myself a few free passes. Even Denny can’t prepare me for that type of thing. The hail got harder and the thunder got louder and I finally got back to the road, which was straight, easy running. Except this is where the shoes get shitty. Mud tires on cars are designed to fling the mud off of the treads, right? Well no one thought about that with the La Sportivas. They clung to EVERY PIECE OF MUD I CROSSED until I was running with tractionless bricks on my feet. Misery. But I was surrounded by marble sized hail and thunder and all I wanted was my car and a lemon honey stinger waffle.

Mud caked shoes, waiting for pilot car

Made it to the car. The honey stinger waffle was pure bliss. I drove out of there quickly, had a few chances to appreciate my mud tires, and got back to the Teanaway road just in time to sit for 20 minutes waiting for a pilot car. Worth it? Yes. Did it ruin my dream of the Teanaways being the land of fun and sun? Also yes. Turns out even the east side gets some rain.

Strava map here. This was my first hike along a trail that was also open to bikes. Honestly, I’m not sure how I felt about it. The deep ruts were annoying as someone trying to run, but I didn’t encounter any bikers which was a relief. And probably had something to do with it being a Wednesday morning. Not a spectacular hike, but a solid run, with a few more ridges to follow had I had time to bag another peak.

Bonus question for any geology gurus out there. What causes the white streaks in the rocks? Is it quartz mixed in with whatever sort of rock the ridge formed from? Seems like they’re harder than the surrounding rock since they always jut out a bit, which I assume means the other rock is wearing down more quickly.

White streaks in the rock along the ridge

Edit: Looks like the white streaks are quartz veins. The minerals are deposited by very hot water (called “brine,” “hydrothermal fluids,” “and a variety of other sciency terms that I’m dumbing down to “hot water”) rising up through cracks in the rock. As the water cools, it precipitates the minerals out along the cooler rock on either side of the cracks. Sometimes it fills up, like what I saw, sometimes it leaves pockets, where you can see the jagged crystals forming. Thanks to Emanuela for putting me on track to do some research!

Have Tent, Will Travel

Trail running, mountaineering, and the occasional wipeout

Category Archives: Trail Runs