lost in misty byways, in times reserved for oblivion...

Snowy Owl Heaven

2012-01-12T13:27:00.003-05:00

— ~ —

We sat in the car under a setting sun, warming our frozen fingers, having all but given up on photographing the snowy owls that day.

Suddenly, as if on cue, two owls took flight from their perch on the edge of a water tank. They opened their wings and swooped south across the fields, quickly gaining altitude with each massive flap. After colliding in mid-air, the pair began tumbling in flight beneath the cotton candy sky.

I struggled to keep up with the action as my camera clicked madly and the auto focus jumped in and out of range. What a magical moment in nature where for those few fantastic seconds, it was as if nothing else mattered in the world.

The pictures from that night weren’t nearly as spectacular as witnessing the event, but I returned three times in as many days to the site atop Polson Hill where these majestic animals seem to have taken root this winter. With each visit I felt as though we were all beginning to understand one another a little bit more.

— ~ —

No doubt, Montana is truly a wonderful place to live if one appreciates rugged wilderness and natural beauty. For me, the endless opportunities to witness the area’s many resident animal species is reason enough, these particular birds being one of many that fall into that realm of both rare and relatively common in the Mission Valley.

World renowned owl expert and Charlo resident Denver Holt has studied snowy owls in the field for more than 20 years and earned credibility among the world’s most prestigious research and educational outreach circles. Holt estimates there are 14 “snowys” living in the Mission Valley this winter, with concentrations near Charlo and south of Polson.

“It’s just phenomenal, and it’s across the nation,” he said. “They’re only here for the winter. They nest in the Arctic during the spring and summer. There’s a lot of research that says they are highly nomadic, highly irruptive, but no one really knows the exact reasons for that. It’s like anything — the more and more you learn the less you know.”

Snowy owls aren’t always around in the winter, they’re somewhat unpredictable. However, the Mission Valley is very unique, in general, for birds of prey and is one of the best wintering areas in all of the United States.

“We are really known for the high concentration for wintering birds of prey,” Holt said. “The lemmings are one of the owl’s main food sources in the Arctic, but voles are the big wintering source of small mammals down here.”

These small mammals are easy for the owls to catch and are plentiful in the valley. When there is a big influx of owls to an area like this, one of the circulating myths is that the animals are desperately fleeing the cold north in search of food. Not the case, Holt said.

“One of the main things to remember is that they just had a great breeding season, they had a lot of food up in the Arctic and each nest probably produced four or five birds per nest,” he said. “That’s why so many of them go south. They’ll stop where food is plentiful and hang out there. Food is plentiful in the Mission Valley right now.”

One site, Mission View Drive on the south end of Polson Hill, has been popular with birders this week. While the owls are fairly tolerant of people, it’s best to keep your distance and resist the urge to chase the birds down for a picture.

“What’s perfect there is that you’re right on the road,” Holt said. “Sometimes people get a little anxious and then of course if you flush a bird, you know you got too close.”

One of the largest owl species, snowy owls have striking yellow eyes and fluffy white or speckled plumage. Unlike most owls, they hunt mainly during the day, so if you’re in the right place you might actually get to see one catch its prey, Holt said.

This winter has been a real treat for birders across Northwest Montana, and right now is an exciting time for Holt, who has been sought after by news outlets nationwide. Still, he’s been drawn to the field for hours of peaceful observance each day.

“No matter what it is, at some point you find something in life that is just really cool and you want to learn more about it. That’s what happened to me 30 years ago.”

To see more photos go to http://www.InstantImageGallery.com/iig/a/795/262792

Snowy owl fun facts

•Snowy owls are the heaviest of all North American owls, and among the largest.

• During breeding season, the snowy owl resides in the northern-most regions of Alaska and Canada. In the winter, they

can be spotted across the northern U.S.

• Unlike most owls, the snowy owl hunts mainly during the day.

• The owl’s main food source in the Arctic are lemmings.

• There are about 14 snowy owls living in the Mission Valley this winter season.

Mastering the mountain

2010-09-14T22:04:00.007-04:00

I’ve always believed the best adventures begin before you have time to think them all the way through. My boyfriend, Mike, would disagree.

We were at a typical Friday night get together with friends when I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard the question, “Want to hike St. Mary’s tomorrow?” echo in my ears. As soon as I was able to comprehend those words, out came my answer, “YES!”

The voice was my friend Erika Nunlist’s, a recent graduate of Polson High School. Her parents, Shannon and Mark, were sitting across from us enjoying some fiesta-themed snacks and tossing around ideas for the upcoming weekend. After all, the days are getting shorter and opportunities to hike fewer before fresh snow packs in the taller summits.

East St. Mary’s Peak sits at 9,424-feet, with the route gaining 5,768 feet of elevation in about 3.5 miles. Erika and I had been trying to arrange a trip to the top all summer long. We knew it would be a challenge. In fact, each time we’d asked for advice from friends who had already done it, we were given increasingly discouraging responses.

At first, it was ,“That’s a tough one!”
Or, “It’s a slog!”
But then it turned into, “I couldn’t walk for a week!”
And, “That’s easily my least favorite hike, ever.”

We’d heard horror tales of pure misery from some of the most athletic and outdoorsy people we knew in the area, so, needless to say, we were determined to attempt the beast for ourselves. Thing is, Mike has only lived in Montana for about a month, and he’d never been into the rugged Mission range at all. His last trek at altitude was at Boy Scout camp in New Mexico, years ago. While he’s certainly no slouch, and a superb rock climber who regularly kicks my butt on hikes of moderate difficulty, I wasn’t sure how he would do on this monster of a peak. And neither was he. Unlike Erika and I, his motivation to suffer for a little inner glory was minimal. Still, he said he was game to give it a whirl.

We met the Nunlists in Polson at 6:15 a.m. and drove south to St. Mary’s Lake as the sky transformed from black to purple, vibrant pink to pale blue. The valley was scattered with a mix of dark clouds and sun. Rain fell in patches all around us, but the atmosphere above our destination was bright.

The trail starts from a campsite at the base of St. Mary Lake’s northern shore. It’s very unassuming, and would probably be hard to find if you weren’t looking for it. Mark set the pace for our group of five, leading us along a dry creek bed at what felt like a 45-degree angle for about an hour before allowing us our first break. He wasn’t exactly a slave-driver, just a man on a mission, and I appreciated the steady attack.

In two years of exploring the Missions, I’ve had one unlucky experience after the next. Some would call bad luck in the wilderness bad planning, but I beg to differ. The Missions are a different breed of mountain. One minute you are trucking along at a good clip, the next, you’re peering down a cliff and wondering, “What happened to the trail?”

According to Mike’s altimeter, we had gained about 1,500 feet in an hour. This wasn’t so bad, we agreed as a group. All except for Mike, who wouldn’t really look at me and refused to smile for a picture. I thought to myself, oh boy, I very well might be single by the time I reach flat ground again.

Still, we climbed some more, leaving the confines of the forest for open tussock grasses along the narrowing ridgeline. The occasional tree was now short, stumpy and maimed, and the trail began to wander around a few small rocky cliffs. The peripheral views were already unreal. From high above, the Jocko Valley was a sea of green rolling hills as far as the eye could see. To the right were the dark jagged teeth of Gray Wolf Peak and to the left, the conical West and East St. Mary’s peaks dominated the scene before it dropped abruptly into the checkerboard of the Mission Valley’s yellow and green fields.

It wasn’t long before the grasses turned to shale and the ridge flattened and turned west toward the peak. With thunder clouds looming, the Nunlists picked up the pace. I was almost running to keep up, happy to have my trusty trekking poles for balance. We hit fresh snow just before the final push to the summit. Now, we could clearly see Gray Wolf and No Fish Lake sparkled like a gem at the bottom of the basin.

Vacation Pass spread out to the right as we kicked steps for a short stretch before Mark’s trekking pole lifted me above the crest of the summit. An avid back country skier, he described the view in all directions and pointed out the lines he would ski in the winter. I was just so happy to reach the top. Looking back, Mike shared his first smile of the afternoon, having bagged one of the highest peaks on his first attempt in the Mission Mountains.

It was only 10:30 a.m., so we’d conquered the mountain in under three hours. Thunder cracked above the valley as we soaked in the miraculous 360-degree view. Now, it was time to start the steep, long and quite miserable trip back down.

Back at the cars by 2:20 p.m., Mike and I decided that yes, “it was a tough one.” Yes, “it was a slog.” I can tell you, yes, we too “could not walk” normally for at least a few days, but alas, it was easily one of my favorite hikes, ever... it’s just not for the faint of heart.

Then again, this was a story about climbing a mountain, not a walk in the park.

Untamed New England

2010-08-25T18:01:00.007-04:00

“Whack!”

And another branch of young pine slapped me across the face. Turning to avoid the tree in front of me, I ran smack-dab into another. Three-hundred-and-sixty-degrees of thickly clustered, sprightly pine trees. What a nightmare.

I held back the tears that were coming with every ounce of self-control I could muster and dropped to my knees, army-crawling under the lowest bough, gritting my teeth and wondering what kind of terrible life-choices had led me to this moment of doom?

It was Friday, the second night of the 72-hour Untamed New England Adventure race. More than 30 hours in, and my team was deep into a bushwhacking endeavor that would take us until morning to complete. We were working our way up a steep slope, to a ridge, then over and down to a mountain lake and the first of two off-trail checkpoints. I honestly didn’t have a clue how close we were to reaching our goal, and while I trusted my navigator, Brent, completely, I couldn’t help but wonder if we would ever make it through this demoralizing maze of deadfall and new growth. This New Hampshire forest was the thickest I had ever seen and it seemed to be getting worse with each step. Visions of men in orange suits, search dogs and bright lights from the rescue helicopters swirled in my sleep-deprived head as I worked my way up the mountainside.

Finally, the terrain leveled out. We’d hit the ridge. Brent stood, looking in all directions before shrugging his shoulders and leading us in a rough line of where he thought the checkpoint could be. After no more than a minute, sure enough, he’d found it. I was amazed. And so relieved. Little did I know, we had about eight more hours of self-abusive misery to go before we would escape from those woods.

For better or worse, one thing I’ve always been good at is moving on. I don’t know if that’s always a particularly endearing quality or not, but it’s helped me to weather some difficult storms and allowed me to become more independent. I know how to adapt to a new place, new job, new friends. I know that whatever bump or slip or whirlwind of a ride life chooses to throw at me, I’ll be okay. I’ll pick up the pieces and move along.

Expedition adventure racing is all about enduring one obstacle and moving on to the next. While the struggle to reach one checkpoint can be full of pain, exhaustion and mental defeat, like our trip up Bosebuck Mountain, when the sun comes up, it’s another day. And you have another checkpoint to chase.

In our case, we had quite a few more to go. Since Thursday afternoon, we’d paddled 40 miles across remote lakes and into a spectacular sunset, then navigated small rapids downstream in the dark; portaged our boats for six miles on rolling roads and through menacing single track trails; huddled around a fire with fellow-racers while one team member at a time ran a solo orienteering course in the dark; biked 30 miles through bumpy snowmobile trails to the Canadian border; trekked 35 miles into Maine, up and down mountains, much of the time off-trail; rode a zip-line across a beautiful canyon, then rappelled down a rock face next to a waterfall... and we still had a day and a half to go. On Saturday morning, we slept for 45 minutes before more rounds of running, biking, or rather hauling our bikes through a swamp, and swimming to a series of small islands would lead us to the finish line.

I experienced quite a lot of personal growth during those 72 hours, but perhaps what I value most about this sport of adventure racing is that through it all, from beginning to end, I was never alone. I was always pushing for the good of my team, and my teammates were always beacons of light guiding my way through the darkest hours.

Out of a field of 41 international teams, sponsored, decorated athletes from across the globe, we found ourselves fighting for a top five finish, and capturing it. We slept for less than 45 minutes in the course of four days and more than 200 miles, but we actually raced ourselves across the line. We never gave up. We stayed sharp, we stayed positive—we raced the dream. And when it was all over, we knew there was only one thing left to do: Enjoy that feeling.

In my relatively short adventure racing career, I’ve already experienced the highs and lows, goods and bads of team dynamics. At times, I’ve been the strongest and the weakest link. Finding four competitors with similar abilities is only half the battle. When all four teammates are driven to accomplish the same goal at almost any cost—bruised, battered, blistered and still willing to lend a hand and wear a smile—well, that’s just pure magic. And that is where I see adventure racing transcend “sport.” It’s people helping people to accomplish a common goal, be it something small or something great.

When the race is over, there is always mixed emotion. Relief, for one...each racer happy to finally sit down. A sense of pride for accomplishing a feat many would never dare to start. And finally, a hole. Where once was undeterred focus in moving forward and forging ahead; where once was the black and white world of traveling from point A to point B, now there is a void. Reality begins to set in. The pungent scent of ripened bike jerseys and the sight of your mud-caked gear ropes you back down to Earth.

Fortunately, for the true AR-junkies, there is usually another race on the horizon... another chance to escape into the wilderness and test the limits of our bodies and minds. After all, this is what we live for, whether we want to admit it to ourselves or not.

Check out the Untamed website to view a map of each team's route, photos and videos. Links to other racers blogs and the race director's write ups can be found there too.

Above photos by Jesse Ahrendt, Untamed Adventure.

Back in Montana

2010-05-18T19:54:00.002-04:00

I've been in Polson for about a week, and I've barely had a chance to breathe.

On Monday, my dad and I climbed the hills behind town to shake off the 2,600-mile drive that started five-days before in rainy Philadelphia, Penn. We paused along the ridge and as he focused the binoculars on a herd of elk bathing in Loon Lake, I took advantage of the unobstructed view of the marvelous Mission Mountains.

On Mother's Day, I went for a walk on Rocky Point; watched water-foul dive for fish, a pair of osprey soaring high above the cliffs and song-birds dancing amongst the reeds.

The day before, I rode my bike around Flathead Lake.

I first moved to Lake County in March of 2008 to work as a reporter for the Lake County Leader. In a matter of days, this place became my home. When I left in November of the same year, I knew it was only a matter of time until I returned. Something about the Mission Valley––the lake, mountains and the community called to me every day I was away... And 'away' I was.

With a heavy heart, but eager to see the world, my friends Caitlin, Theresa and I booked flights to Christchurch, New Zealand and spent the first seven months of 2009 living a dream.

We celebrated New Years aboard a Boeing 757 as the sun peeked over the Pacific Ocean. After landing in Fiji, we mistakenly purchased a five-pound bag of "cassava" (potatoes) instead of "kava" (powdered root used to make a traditional celebratory drink) as a gift for our host family, then laughed it off over a seafood feast speared by said hosts only hours before.

We poached first-class hammocks on a private beach, then slept in a roach motel and barely escaped a flooded Nadi by hitching a ride in a massive mining dump truck with wheels 10-feet-high.

In New Zealand, we bought a car for $750. I learned to drive the manual 1989 Toyota Corolla on sketchy gravel roads that rival Hellroaring in their twisty, rutted madness. That "wee little car" carried us from town to town and job to job–first as gardeners at a rustic Central Otago inn, then as maids in a backpacker hostel, apple packers and an outdoor retail sales associate.

During a few desperate shifts, the three of us worked the assembly line at a seafood factory in Nelson. We scrambled to man our stations as blocks of frozen, gelatinous, fish goo were sliced, breaded, stacked and then packed into boxes for shipment all over the world.

I must say, a highlight, for me, was the adventure racing. For three months, I lived, worked and trained in sunny Nelson. Culminating it all, was a 24-hour adventure race through the mystical Nelson Lakes National Park.

Then, I flew across the Tasman Sea to Australia. I climbed the Sydney Harbor Bridge, witnessed a sunrise over Uluru, kayaked and camped for four days in the Whitsunday Islands.

I saw giant sea turtles, spiders the size of my hands, penguins, seals and sea lions; camped on secluded beaches and beside pristine mountain lakes. I hiked a glacier and leaped from a plane at 15,000 feet. I have memories and even a few friendships that will last a lifetime, but through it all, I missed this place. I missed my life here in Polson.

So, I am happy to be back and excited to start a new chapter at the Leader. Though, it really doesn't feel like I've been gone for very long.

I did, of course, notice a number of neat new businesses, the animal fence and newly completed section of Highway 93 through Arlee. I’m sure there are some new names and faces around town, too.

Summer should bring the usual suspects to the newspaper desk: Cherry Festival, Hoopfest, the hydroplane boat races, etc. It will be nice to catch up on the schools and city councils too.

I just hope that this time around my reckless impulsiveness will subside long enough for me to really enjoy all that this part of the world has to offer. I realize that may take a while.

Now, it's time to brush off the cobwebs and get back to work.

AIARE Level I and Tuckerman's Ravine

2010-02-04T23:03:00.010-05:00

Another trip to North Conway, another fantastic time! Last weekend, we made our second road trip to New Hampshire, this time to participate in an Avalanche Level I certification course.

We spent the day Saturday cross country skiing at the Jackson Cross Country Center and then ventured out in the negative temperatures for a full-moon bonfire with George, our gracious host!

The AIARE course was very informative and a lot of fun. We spent day 1 in the classroom learning to recognize and avoid avalanche terrain, understand avalanche ratings, weather and the basics of snow science. On the second day, we traveled to the Crawford Notch Visitor's Center to practice beacon rescue and digging snow pits.

The third day, we hiked (and skinned) up the Tuckerman Ravine Trail to the Hermit Lake Shelter. From there, we scouted out the terrain, current snow conditions and reports from the rangers. Since the avalanche danger was rated "Considerate" in the bowl and at the lip, we steered clear from those areas and instead made our way up Hillman's Highway into "Moderate" danger. We dug snow pits in a giant drift about half way up the ravine, made our assessments and decided it was stable enough to ski and hike down.

It was a safe trip down... more or less...

Then we had an 8-hour drive back to PA in a snowstorm...

Thank you George and Dave for the great weekend! See you again soon!

New Hampshire, I Love You

2010-01-12T20:50:00.009-05:00

This past weekend, I headed north with two co-workers, Jen and Dan, for a 3-day Mountaineering Workshop in the White Mountains. We didn't quite know what to expect as the course description mentioned a Day 1 itinerary of "the basics of hiking above treeline with crampons and an ice axe"... skills that take about 5 minutes to master. Needless to say, we were not disappointed and nothing we did over the course of 3 days was "basic".

Day 1: Vertical Ice Climbing @ Cathedral Ledge

Day 2: Low-inclined, multi-pitch route @ Willy's Slide

Day 3: Mt. Washington winter ascent... AMAZING.

It was a bitterly cold, windy, but sunny and absolutely perfect day to ascend the mountain labeled, "the Worst Weather in the World".

Stats for the day: Temperature at the summit: -5 degrees / Wind speed: 55 mph / Base elevation: 2,008 ft (Pinkham Notch Visitor's Center) / Summit Elevation: 6,288 ft / Total elevation gain: 4,280 ft / Total time: 8 hours.

A few things...

2009-09-13T11:03:00.008-04:00

Autumn is my favorite season. Maybe it's the colors, the lack of humidity and the ideal temperature for training or outdoor purusits. Or maybe I'm still nostalgic for the start of a new school year and the excitement of high school cross country, but I just love those few perfect weeks when summer scorchers are transitioning into crisp afternoons.

Today is one of those perfect days and it's inspired me to post a quick update on the past month (before I head out on a nice long ride!).

Two new albums (Australia / New Zealand) are now posted on my website as well as a few additional photos in the Adventure Gallery.

My Senior Thesis is currently on display at the Indian Valley YMCA. All 12 framed large-format prints were able to hang along the hallway, so while it's no NYC solo show, it's nice to have everything up in one place for people to see.

Racing and training have been going well. I've logged more than 100 hours including two races since returning home July 18. That's almost 1,100 miles in 8 weeks and doesn't account for the few days of climbing or recreation thrown in here and there.

Finally, here's a link to one of the race reports my teammate Jon wrote after the American Adventure Sports Lionheart in Ohiopyle, PA. Now it's time to look ahead to the 12-hour Shag on Sept. 26 and the Blues Cruise 50k Trail Run on Oct. 4. Then, it's the debut of team mikesdocuments.com in the annual Edge Adventure Race at Marsh Creek!

The other side of the world...

2009-07-24T19:26:00.003-04:00

Australia Expedition 2009

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A Land Down Under

2009-07-01T08:08:00.005-04:00

Mike and I are in Sydney now and flying to the outback tomorrow morning. Today we pushed through the sleep monsters to make the necessary rounds in this great city. We checked out the famed Opera House, Harbor Bridge and Bondi Beach, while enjoying a fantastic lunch of both kangaroo and crocodile pizzas in between. Hopefully, we'll have some time on the tail end of the trip to see a bit more of Sydney, but there is just so little time and so much ground to cover!

We both can't wait to get into the Red Center for what I'm sure will be an adventure like I've never had before. After a few nights exploring Urulu/Ayers Rock, the Olgas and driving through the barren wilderness to Alice Springs, we fly to Cairns and the Great Barrier Reef! Then, hopefully a multi-day kayak trip in the Whitsundays and finally back to Sydney and ultimately, good ol' PA.

Check the Spot page for updates on our location and BEST OF LUCK to the GOALS team racing in the World Championship Qualifying Untamed New England Adventure Race this weekend. Race hard and have fun guys! I can't wait to get back into the racing scene when I'm home.

"Fine and frosty"

2009-06-22T06:17:00.008-04:00

The view north from the summit of Mt. Arthur taken this morning as the sun crested the tops of the peaks surrounding the tiny town of Paradise at the head of Lake Wakatipu.

--

Seven full (and two half) days in New Zealand is just not enough! Even six months has proven to be far too little time to explore the thousands of miles of coast, trail and ridgeline. However, Matt only had seven days to spare, so we did our best to cover as much ground as we could.

He cruised through three flights and 36 hours of travel time to earn a 6 am wake-up call on Day 1 when we kicked off the week with an alpine start and a breath-taking hike above the city to the Ben Lomond saddle. We followed that up the very next day with a three-night trip to Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park highlighted by the Mueller Hut overnight.

Lugging stuffed packs and mountaineering boots up (and down) more than a thousand meters of rocky, icy and snow-covered elevation did a number on our leg muscles and joints, so we happily took things easy for a few days in Queenstown. Then, it hit... the itch. The pressure of having too little time and the anxiety of needing at least one more adventure – one more big day (or two) in the mountains.

We had plans to make dinner with friends on Saturday night, but decided to make a break for the top of the lake early Sunday morning. I'd been to Paradise on my first trip to Queenstown in January. It was a magical place then... deep, damp New Zealand rain forest giving way to tussock-covered hills and high peaks. I could only imagine how an espcially cold winter and "heaps" of early snow had changed the landscape. Matt's flight home didn't leave until 12:20 Monday, so we could spend the night in Glenorchy or hike into a hut and still get to the airport in time.

"Plan A" needed a rewrite when a fantastic dinner carried on well past our anticipated bed times, but we eventually got everything into the car and set off... rolling along the edge of the teal, sunspeckled lake. After a great lunch and extended coffee break inside Foxy's Cafe, we had officially (through silent, mutual understanding) scrapped the idea of another miserably cold overnight in a hut.

It was 2 pm and we were both falling asleep. But, the sun was shining and the road to Paradise was calling, so we rallied again for a mosey down the road from Paradise to the head of the Dart Track. We carried on well past the logical turn-around point given the frequency and size of the icy fords, but J-Dub, our 1989 Toyotal Corolla, valiently forged on. Giant icicle chandeliers glistened in evening light beneath the forest canopy. As the road curved around Chinaman's Bluff, warm sunshine gave way to a frozen valley – trees, grass and the road were all coated in a thick frost.

Alive again, we returned to a warm fire, hearty meal and a few games of cards at the Glenorchy Hotel and vowed to not waste another day. When the alarm buzzed at 6 am, we robotically packed the car and made the short drive to the Mt. Arthur trailhead.

Usually a half-to-full day hike, we were going up light and fast. Water, small snacks and of course cameras in tow, we hit the beech forest trail and worked our way up tight, frosty switchbacks to a disheveled gully where the unmarked trail continued steeply to the ridgeline. The crystal-clear sky, which was a blanket of stars only moments ago, had faded into the pale pink dawn as we began to claw our way up this shaley nightmare. Sprinting along the ridge, we reached the summit, just before the sun's rays flooded the horizon.

Well, Matt's currently somewhere over the Pacific Ocean; heading back to an uncharacteristically rainy east coast summer. While it certainly felt rushed, we really had a great week of enjoying the outdoors and all that New Zealand has to offer. We were so fortunate to have cold, but otherwise "fine and frosty" days almost straight through. Clear night skies and bold, beautiful mornings have made each hard-earned moment even more wondrous.

It's never easy to pull yourself out of a warm bed before even the sun shows its face. But, it's always worth it.

Mueller Hut - Mt. Cook National Park

2009-06-19T09:05:00.004-04:00

Matt's in New Zealand, and that means climbing mountains we're probably not experienced enough to climb! This one was definitely a test for both of us, but an incredible adventure and an experience I will never forget!

I'll update with more of a story in a few days when he's gone, but for now, the photos will have to speak for themselves!!!!

Mueller Hut - Mt. Cook National Park

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Abel Tasman Coastal Track

2009-06-06T21:49:00.001-04:00

Yesterday I made a quick dash to Abel Tasman National Park. My time is running out in the beautiful Nelson/Golden Bay area and I didn't want to leave without seeing this famed place of red sand beaches, eroded granite rock pinnacles, exotic birds, fur seals and this smooth, flowing single track known as one of the country's "Great Walks".

It was a fantastic day that all began with a spectacular sunrise. I couldn't have asked for better weather. It was a calm, cool morning ride on the water taxi along the coast to Awaroa Bay, but I was warm just minutes into the run, the forest truly glowing in the fierce New Zealand sunshine.

The plan was to run as much as necessary to complete the roughly 30 km route back to my car parked in Marahau and enjoy the time in between, explore the bays and lagoons, take time to marvel at the geography and bake in the sun for at least a few minutes on the beach. A highlight for me was a small New Zealand fur seal I watched play in a pool while wading through one of the three tidal crossings (I think near Tonga Bay). I've seen more than a few of his kind perched on rocks in the last few months, but he was just one of two that I've been able to view in the water where he is most at home.

Every bay was unique. At times, I couldn't help myself from crawling all over the rocks, hugging the shore and trying not to soak my shoes. The water had its characteristic vibrant teal color and just egged me on all day to take a dip. I never really needed to though; it was quite cool among the silver and red beech trees and cornflake trails.

I wish I had more time to explore this magical place! Just one more reason to come back...

Abel Tasman Coastal Track

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International Adventure Racing!

2009-06-02T23:38:00.011-04:00

It's official! Having done one 3-hour race in Kelowna, BC last August, I'll admit, I claimed that status a while ago, but the Canada race was over so quickly - it hardly counts. This one, however, (Adventure Nelson's main event, Rollo's 24 hour) we wrapped up in 15 hours and 40 minutes, so it definitely makes the cut.

I came to Nelson three months ago with my eyes fixed on this event. I had stumbled upon the website even before setting foot in the country and knew that if I was going to race here, it would be at Rollo's. I've already shared the tumultuous story of how my stagnant luck turned for the better (finding a bike, job and the perfect teammates all in one week). Now it's time I got to the good stuff... or at least attempt some sort of race report so Brent stops nagging me for one!

--

The weekend kicked off on Friday night with an orienteering prologue around the town of St. Arnaud, race HQ and the northern gateway to Nelson Lakes National Park. It only required two participants, which could include crew, so Luke and our speedy crew captain, Nige, laced up their running shoes for team R&R Sport Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. With swift nav and fast feet, the two cruised into the Red Deer Lodge sweaty and breathing hard, but ahead of all the other teams. Sure, it felt great to win the opening leg, but being in the early lead did nothing to alleviate my already growing anticipation for the actual race, which would begin at 5:30 Saturday morning.

After a rundown of the race course, teams rushed back, maps in hand to plot points and strategize with support crews. The course stretched in several directions from a central transition area located at the head of Lake Rotorua, so we would see our crews three to four times throughout the race. I frantically made up 6-hour food bags and sharpied instructions for hot soup, baked kumara (yams), avocado sandwhiches... the works! You certainly don't get that kind of fine cuisine when you're racing out of a backpack for 24 hours! Finally, by 11 pm, I was packed and showered and ready for a solid four hour sleep.

A pre-dawn glow illuminated the snow capped mountains surrounding the lake as we tried to organize gear under the tent at 5 am. In a matter of hours, we would be trekking in those far-off mountains en route to the turn around point at Angelus Hut. But first, a quick run around town and a team time trial up a steep gravel road on the bikes to the Mt. Robert car park was in order. Led by Trevor Voyce and Luke Chapman (2nd and 3rd place finishers at this year's famed Coast to Coast), the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers established the pace at the front of the pack on the run and settled into second on the climb.

Switching bike shoes to sneakers cost us the small lead we had on the other four-person teams and the defending champs and favorite's to win, team TenEvents, captained by local adventure racing legend Nathan Faavae sped off into the bush (having decided to bike all day in their running shoes and cages). We fumbled a bit too long and hit the trail still adjusting gloves and gaiters (I never even put mine on). We found our stride on the typical beech forest tracks – skinny, rooty, rocky and of course, muddy – soon after the second four-man team passed us not far along the way. They were another star-studded group, so we weren't too shaken and kept spirits up as we traversed down to the Speargrass track and the sun began to peek between the trees.

When we broke out of the treeline, we could see the teams just ahead of us, working their way up the snowy ravine toward a checkpoint at the saddle before then dropping down to a frozen lake and Angelus Hut. Slogging over icy creeks and through a maze of tussock grasses, we hit the snow only to discover it was mostly ice with tiny cuts for footholds, which were precarious to say the least, especially considering the flowing creek directly below. Carefully, we tip-toed along - up, up and up the steep slope to the top of the world. It was a magnificent 360 degree view from the ridge and a fun run/glissade through deep snow down to the lake.

We crossed paths with Nathan's team at the top of the ridge where I experienced a really strange case of deja-vu... it was that over-used heli shot from the EcoChallange tv series where the team runs along the rocky ridge patched with snow... only this time, I was really there! It was pretty cool.

On the way back down, I had an absolute ball with lots of singing across the scree and now even slicker ice slopes ("I feel the earth move under my feet") and the usual redneck, "Shot me a griz," banter that is for some reason so entertaining to Luke and I. It really didn't feel much like a race, just another jolly training day in the spectacular Southern Alps. Once we hit the lower trail, we picked up our pace and ran most of the long haul back to the transition. A few times, I found myself in mud up to my waist after watching in horror as Luke sunk past his knees into a sloppy pit, then immediately followed him in.

The paddle was pretty uneventful - a straight shot to the top of the lake and back along the shoreline. It would have been a lovely break from being on my feet, except for the immediate cramping that wouldn't go away on the left side of my body. It was terribly uncomfortable, but not debilitating and thankfully faded after I guzzled water, Leppin and had a stretch at the first CP.

After roughly 2 hours on the water, and almost all day on my feet, I was surprised how great I felt when we left for the bike orienteering ("go and get") stage. We pushed to finish this leg in daylight, which was good for obvious reasons; it's easier to see things during the day, but perhaps more importantly, the temperature had already started to drop and my fingers and toes were suffering more and more with every splash through creek or puddle. We were still solidly in third place, gaining ground on second and miles ahead of third. Rach and I were starting to drag, but livened up at the final transition with Caitlin's warm cup of noodles, smiles and words of encouragement.

We hopped on the bikes again for the final journey... a beastly road ride to the Rainbow Ski Field and up what we would soon refer to as "C*%t Mountain" to the car park. The ride was rolling and my legs felt strong. We seemed to move pretty well through this section and even closed the gap to within 6 minutes of the second place team by the time we rolled into the checkpoint at the bottom of the hill. It occurred to me during this transition that I hadn't had more than a few sips of water or eaten a single thing in the 90 minutes we'd been riding... my legs were all of a sudden jelly and my body just could not warm up. Still, the race was on and we knew we were within reach of the top teams. Time to move! I chugged half a bottle of water, shoved a One Square Meal bar into my mouth and away we went.

Now, this portion was called a biathlon, which required two team members to be on foot while the other two rode bikes to the top. Because our team included two inexhaustible steeds, Luke and Trev strapped the tow lines around their waists, handed over their loaded packs and began to run up the hill with Rach and I pedalling along in tow. It was miserably slow-going with jelly legs and an unrelenting hill. Not too steep or too rough, but agonizing all the same. Heart rates through the roof, quads screaming and attitudes faltering for the first time all day, this absurd train carried on for about 40 minutes until, in unison, Rach and I revolted.

Me: "Luke, can you stop? I need to walk..."
Luke: "No, no, no we're almost there," (He's now running backwards yanking on the tow line and trying, unsuccessfully, to encourage me to continue on).
Me: (starting to weave across the road) "No, seriously... please stop!"
Rach: "Luke, STOP! We're getting off! Trev, stop! Stop! Stop!"

Finally, the boys gave in. We dropped our packs and those cursed bikes in the middle of the road and began speed walking on what felt like fresh legs again. In a matter of minutes, the road turned to patchy sheets of ice. Soon, it was covered in a slick surface that would have prevented us from riding any longer regardless. The checkpoint had been moved due to the conditions and we saw the team in front of us as they cautiously negotiated the ice heading back down. Then, the moment of truth... how far will you go to catch a team? For Rach and I, this answer is "FAR".

The guys had been talking about it all day, but I couldn't be bothered with the details until now. Apparently, we were going to double, on the bikes, back down this bumpy, windy mountain road with a steep drop off on its outer edge. Now, doubling when you're a kid cruising around the neighborhood is one thing, but this required me to sit on the metal crossbar, legs over the handlebars and head on Trev's chest for more than 6 miles. Rach straddled the crossbar... not sure which would be worse. I had absolutely no control over my destiny! Fortunately, my bike is tiny and Trev could stand comfortably on the ground and drag his feet to keep balance, but I graciously closed my eyes, went to my happy place and endured every bump.

It's hard to say whether we slowed down or the team in front of us picked up the pace when they realized that we had substantially closed the gap, but we never saw their lights on the roughly 25 km ride back to town and they finished about 20 minutes ahead of us in the end. Nathan's team won overall, no surprises there! It was really cool to compete against not just that team's physical abilities, but all his experience! It clearly demonstrates how experience correlates directly to efficiency, especially in transitions.

Cold, wet and pretty darn near shot after racing hard all day, we camped out next to the roaring fire inside the lodge until our slacker-of-a-crew team decided to make their way to the finish line (well after we'd already finished). To be fair, they hadn't heard the last CP had moved and just didn't expect us to be so fast!

--

All said and done, I had a great weekend at the lake. In bed by 10:30? Was that really a 24 hour adventure race!? Still, racing hard and fast all day, into the mountains, being towed right from the start, having warm meals and a happy crew usher me back onto the course after each transition... quite a different experience from what I'm used to!

The landscape on that first foot section was absolutely breath-taking (not only because we were running it!) and the people involved in the race - volunteers, Search and Rescue, crews and racers alike - were all so friendly, helpful and out to have a good time! I definitely enjoyed myself and appreciate everyone who chipped in gear, training time and a "good luck" to make it possible.

--

The Power Rangers and I, the "American import" even saw some press!

Sportzhub

The Nelson Mail

Living the dream

2009-05-25T17:57:00.006-04:00

My sincere apologies for complete blogging neglect! I'll blame the "no internet access at home" excuse, but in reality, I've just been happy to not really touch my computer at all in these last few weeks. Life in Nelson made a quick 360 just after my last post! So, here's my best attempt at catching you all up to speed...

I officially retired from house cleaning and factory work when the Macpac Clearance store manager called me up after one of his staff left for another job. The store was only supposed to stay open through the month of May, which worked out perfectly for me because I wanted to stick around to race in the Rollo's 24-hour Adventure Race on May 31 before heading back down south for a taste of winter madness in Queenstown.

With the new 9-5, I could no longer clean for accommodation and so to save a few bucks a week, moved into a "flat" with Caitlin and a pair of crazies; Gary the Scot and Mick from Dublin. The new place was baren and cold, but we huddled in the living room around a tiny tv and made the best of it!

Soon after moving into the new place and starting the new job, I met up with some local multi-sport athletes who were one short in fielding a team for the Rollo's AR at the end of the month. It was Monday; they asked me to go for a ride with them on Sunday of that week... swell! But, I didn't yet have a bike. So after a million trips to each of Nelson's 277 bike shops and hours of endless searching online, I had settled on buying a new Giant Alias and selling it back to the shop for a minimum of half price when I was done with it. Sure, it would cost more than I really wanted to spend, but to adventure race in NZ, I thought it was worth it. Still, after placing the order, the decision to break the bank wasn't sitting well and I made one last stop inside the R&R Sport to look over (again) my new purchase. Incredibly, while chatting with the store manager, I learned that she had an older Alias, small frame, that she was looking to sell. I quickly called back the shop and cancelled the order, bought the used one at half the price and away I went!

The following day and pretty much every day since, have included riding, running or paddling in some capacity. I really needed to build back strength in my legs and fortunately, Nelson has enough long climbs to make that happen. This past month, early morning paddles became the norm...

... And a massive eight-hour expedition to Mt. Owen (Lord of the Rings film site!) which included racing dark clouds and a grueling side trip up Billy's Knob (mind out of the gutter!) will be among the memories that I take with me from my time here in Nelson.

I even made a few trips to the pool for lap swimming. Imagine my relief when after an hour of unbelievably slow going, arms churning for what seemed like ages only to earn splits my mother could hold, I discovered the pool was 33-yards long, not the typical 25-yards we have in the states!

Things finally started to feel normal again and I realized how much I appreciate normalcy in my life. Yes, I love to travel. I love to be out of my element and forced to adapt to new ways of doing things, new foods and new attitudes. But, weekly rides, a job that brings money into the bank so I can eat and have a coffee whenever I like... there's something wonderful about that too!

Note: Yes, we are wearing neon lycra arm warmers and headbands of varying colors. These are elements of our team uniforms. They have this super yummy sport bar/cookie over here called Em's Power Cookies. Like the dumb American I sometimes can't help but being, I spent much of the Mt. Owen hike thinking our conversation was dealing with the teenage evil-fighting ninja team with dinosaur powers and colorful alter-egos when it really had to do with fueling for endurance athletes. Thus, team "R&R Sport Mighty Morphin Power Rangers."

Fish sticks or apples?

2009-04-21T20:44:00.004-04:00

That is the question most concerning Caitlin and myself at the moment as we are currently in the red with our bank accounts and getting real work in sunny Nelson is proving to be more difficult than we anticipated.

We arrived in Nelson mid-March and were almost immediately successful at finding a cleaning gig at a backpackers in exchange for free accommodation. So, after our short trip up the coast to Golden Bay, Theresa and Caitlin started work while I took advantage of one more week of freedom to do some mountain biking and picture-making, among other things as I've already mentioned in the blog. Since I returned to town almost four weeks ago, the days off have been few and far between because we clean six days a week. Mostly, mornings consist of cleaning bathrooms, the kitchen, and making beds, then we have lunch, check email, job search and usually toss in some sort of run or bike in the afternoon.

Last week, after realizing that all the camera shops or outdoor stores were fully staffed, neither of the town's two pools needed lifeguards, no cafes, bars or restaurants were hiring, the three of us reluctantly followed a tip and signed up to work at Sealords, one of the local factories that produces frozen fish products... as a packer. So, twice now, for a little more than $100 per shift (3 to 11 pm), my evenings have included a lot of standing, counting, pile-making and bag stuffing. Not the most glamorous of professions, but one more reason I will never take my life (family, friends or education) for granted.

--

Imagine a river of frozen, breaded, gelatinous fish goo. Then imagine yourself in a white suit, gum boots, hair-net and a pair of rubber gloves standing on a metal platform next to that river. Your job is to pile five fish sticks at a time so the people behind you can stuff ten fish sticks into a plastic bag, then seal it, box it, weigh it and stack it for shipping. Welcome to my life.

If that image makes you laugh, good. The three of us laughed at our truly hideous get-up out loud in the locker room on our first day. I was not laughing, however, when that river of fish started flowing and the sequence of numbers one through five became jumbled in my mind as I stacked piles of five – oops, four – then six – as more fish sailed by in clusters and I eventually gave up my feeble attempts at sorting because my head was swirling, heart pounding and fingers shaking...

"I can't do this!" I cried, totally absorbed in my own nightmare.

Like a light in a dark room, I suddenly hear, "Honey, let it go. It's just frozen fish."

A kindly woman appeared next to me, calmly grabbing two fish sticks in one hand, three in the other, then joining them to make a tower of five. The river of fish almost immediately started to resemble a fleet of five-story fish-stick-boats. I was utterly amazed at her precision. She was a fish-stick-stacking stud. And I was clearly not.

I took a deep breath and a quick glance down the line at my two friends who were just as frazzled – their expressions being something in between severe concentration and absolute horrification. Again, I laughed out loud and started fresh, doing my best to stack piles of five and leaving the rest to the lady behind me. As time went on, I was able to find a rhythm and the minutes passed quicker than I thought they would. When the night was over, I was more than $100 richer. Some of life's lessons can't be measured in dollars or cents.

--

As it turns out, the "recession" is reaching even the far corners of the globe. Sealords is "restructuring" or cutting staff, and so, temporary workers, like us, are not in high demand. After just two shifts in two weeks, we decided to look elsewhere for more steady work. Again, the only place hiring was a packing factory; this one packs apples.

"Great!" I thought.

Apples are definitely less disgusting, less smelly and easier to hold on to than fish sticks. After another two nights of packing crates full of my favorite fruit, I am severely less excited. My back aches, my feet hurt, my left knee is so sore it won't lay flat. Leaning over a conveyor belt, sorting apples – throwing out the ones with bruises, lines, dents, divots, and sunburn – placing them all in neat rows (stems pointing in the same direction, red-side up), then dragging them down the line to be boxed... ugh... it must be one of the worst things you can do to your body. Besides all that, the job pays significantly less. For five excruciating hours a night, we earn a mere $62.

So, here we are. Packing apples five nights a week for roughly $300? Or crossing our fingers for a few shifts at the fish-packing-plant at $100 per night?

... Is retirement an option?

"Skyless space and time without depth..."

2009-04-15T17:25:00.003-04:00

I am not a hopeless romantic. Please allow me to reiterate: I am NOT a hopeless romantic.

I guess you can say that life has broken me down; at least to a level where I don't dream about the perfect boy, the perfect wedding and the perfect family. In fact, I enjoy the possibility that my Prince Charming will most likely not be tall, dark, and handsome. He will most likely not ride a white horse to my rescue and sweep me off my feet – literally or figuratively – and I'm fairly certain we will not live in a castle on a hill overlooking the ocean (although I haven't quite given up dreaming about that one just yet).

Still, I have a tendency to cry at every movie... even when I don't particularly like the film. I never miss my cue. I see that puckered brow, the closing eyes, the downward glance, and I'm in tears even before the actor can push out that first salty drop. Maybe it's hereditary, my mom sometimes beats me to the punch when we watch movies together and perhaps that's why I avoid seeing the real tear-jerkers with her. It's much easier to mask a cry with a crackle when even the emotional bits are decorated with comedy.

Tonight I watched "P.S. I Love You" (wonderful, loving husband gets brain tumor and dies at age 35 leaving behind a series of letters for his wife). I cried a lot. The title guarantees romance, so I wasn't all too hopeful, but needless to say, I fell for this film.

I've never – ever – really enjoyed watching Hillary Swank act either. Not as the persistent teen in the third Karate Kid; not as the empowering educator in "Freedom Writers" and not even as the tough-as-nails boxer in "Million Dollar Baby", for which I believe she won a Best Actress Oscar. I don't know what it is about her... pouty, too-skinny, sunken eyes and annoying voice... but, she doesn't do it for me... usually.

So, how could I actually like this film; with Swank's pouting, wasted stomach and piercing voice all at their best? Maybe the Irish guy and his accent were just so adorable that he over-influenced my honest critique? Or maybe, it was the cold reality of her situation (as well as her mother's) that captured me.

Look what happens when you give everything to someone and that person either unintentionally or by choice leaves you totally and utterly alone. People can be so stupid, selfish and materialistic, like Swank's character before her husband passed away. Even when she had everything she wanted, she was not satisfied until she lost it all. I too am guilty of pushing the people I love away either because I am afraid of giving my heart to them, or because I am just too dumb to recognize a good thing when I have it. I am constantly looking ahead toward bigger and better things – greener pastures, if you will – even while standing in the middle of the most electric green New Zealand field imaginable.

With so much pain, suffering and sorrow thriving throughout the world, what point is there, really, in happiness?

I am also currently reading a collection of essays by the French existentialist, Albert Camus. By in large, the most profound of these works has been "The Myth of Sisyphus", which I believe I also read for high school english class, but obviously did not absorb at the time. First, I encourage you to read it on your own (because I am not here to write a book report). Don't worry, it's a short story, but just in case you don't get around to it, I have pulled a few quotes that together with this silly love film really made an impression on me tonight.

"The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor... Homer tells us that Sisyphus had put death in chains... His scorn of the gods, his hatred of death, and his passion for life won him that unspeakable penalty in which the whole being is exerted toward accomplishing nothing...

It is during that return, that pause, that Sisyphus interests me... At each of those moments when he leaves the heights and gradually sinks toward the lairs of the gods, he is superior to his fate. He is stronger than his rock...

At that subtle moment when man glances backward over his life, Sisyphus returning to his rock, in that slight pivoting he contemplates that series of unrelated actions which becomes his fate, created by him, combined under his memory's eye and soon sealed by his death. Thus, convinced of the wholly human origin of all that is human, a blind man eager to see who knows that the night has no end, he is still on the go. The rock is still rolling.

... Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks... This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night-filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy."

I think we will all find our happiness some day. Maybe that's the point of living. For just one moment, right at the end of it all, we will look back across the span of our time on earth – be it five years or one-hundred – and see our life for what it was. We will suddenly remember all those moments that truly took our breath away; that purest kind of joy will come to the surface and we will die happy. I believe that is heaven.

"In the end, we'll stop and breathe in forever... In the end, the path is clear." ~ Crazy Life, Toad the Wet Sprocket

Not the finish line, but the journey...

2009-03-30T22:33:00.015-04:00

When I boarded the plane to Fiji on December 30, 2008, I had no idea what the year 2009 would bring — that was the whole point.

Raised in the suburbs of Pennsylvania, I had lived for four years in Philadelphia, the fifth largest city in the US; 6 months in strange, but gorgeous Orange County, California; then 8 months adapting to the rustic awesomeness of rural Polson, Montana. I figured I could hang my hat just about anywhere and be happy. There are good people in every corner of the world and new experiences await those who are not afraid to go searching for them. But I wasn't looking to hang my hat... I wanted to roam.

After talking with my good friends Caitlin and Theresa, it seemed they were ready for the same. We threw around some ideas and the little English-speaking island pair of New Zealand won the battle between a South American odyssey and African safari. Why New Zealand? Well, as Kase and I would come to say, "Why not?" Really though, the New Zealand landscape had captivated my imagination first in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, then while watching the epic Eco-Challenge adventure races. I knew that someday I would go there, but never imagined some day would be so soon.

Fiji was just an afterthought, which came through a discussion I had with the guy from Air Pacific the day after my dream life in Montana officially came to a close. Afterthought or not, those nine days will go down in history as the, "Are you kidding me?" trip of a lifetime. It wasn't just the incredible beaches, the jet-lag effect that had us awake for a week of 5 a.m. sunrises, or the friends and feasts of the village home-stay that I loved. It was the flood that had us trapped in hell the day we had to fly out of the country. It was the language barrier. It was the total culture shock of a third-world country and the adaptability required to be there.

Fast-forward to New Zealand and almost three months spent exploring what is perhaps the most perfectly designed backpacker destination in the world and I was actually feeling supremely deflated. We are currently in Nelson; a bright, happy sea port city along the northern coast of the South Island. Nelson is a bustling artsy town with plenty of shopping and nightlife to keep anyone entertained. I immediately loved the place, but could not be convinced I wanted to stay and find work, which was the plan. I felt strangely empty. Uninspired. Bored.

To re-cap in reverse-chronological-order (since I have done a horrible job at blogging):

• Mountain biked the 71 km Queen Charlotte Track: the brutal first 50 km on day 1, then 21 km of some of the most enjoyable single track I've ever ridden plus 21 km on the road along the famed Queen Charlotte Drive on day 2. Breath-taking views of the Marlborough Sounds and an utterly exquisite stop-over at the Portage Yacht Club. And there was the totally unexpected run-in with a large pod of bottle-nosed dolphins who raced the water taxi and surfed in its wake for a while before resuming with their spiral acrobatic hunt for breakfast. (Watch it on YouTube)

• Totally randomly chose to hike (or trespass) up the biggest hill I could see on the Banks Peninsula (from Akaroa) after officially completing the entire South Island loop with my return to Christchurch. On a perfect sunny day, the view to the sea could not have been better, except when compared with the green and yellow checkerboard farmland and and aquamarine bay just 180 degrees in the other direction. Grabbed some Kiwi fish and chips before heading into town to visit with my friend Aidan who offered me a warm bed for the night (as opposed to the back seat of the car).

• Absolutely mastered driving J-Dub, our manual transmission 1988 Toyota Corolla on the 5-hour route south through the wildlife mecca of Kaikoura where sea birds and seals were waiting in abundance for me to "shoot them" with my lens.

• Picked up a friendly hitch-hiker, mother of 3, on her way to Wellington for her son's birthday. Learned all about the fabulous adventures one can have in Australia when your husband drives an 18-wheeler and owns both a yacht and a motor home.

• Basked in the golden sunshine on Golden Bay with a pair of Germans who taught us one of the silliest (and most fun!) card games I have ever played. Roamed up and down the seemingly endless sand dunes on Farewell Spit en-route to the ocean for a chilly frolic in the Tasman Sea. Ran and jumped off the dunes into deep, soft sand.

• The day before, we tried to kayak up a river to a mountain lake, but ended up dragging boats for an hour until opting to hike along the shore through farmland with a whole herd of cattle constantly at our heels! Then we paddled to the ocean and coasteered our way along the rocky shoreline exploring caves and watching the waves crash on the rocks.

• Wandered alone on a desolate Wharariki beach as the wind ripped the sand until it stung my legs and the sun dipped into the horizon.

• ATE A LIVE HULU GRUB at the Hokitika Wild Foods Festival, which we happened to spot on our way north along the west coast. What an incredible weekend of crazy Kiwis in costume, living it up at one of the most unique festivals on earth. By the way, the grub was obnoxiously juicy and tasted just like the tree stump they extracted it from.

• Hiked on Franz Josef Glacier under a deep azure sky on a rare afternoon of perfect weather for the rainy west coast. This was perhaps the highlight of the whole trip and something I have been afraid, but curious about since traveling to Alaska in 2002. The ice was so blue and the streams of fresh water we drank brought new meaning to the word "purity."

• Recuperated from not only a few busy weeks of traveling, but also a nasty fall down a flight of stairs in Queenstown. A perfect example of meeting good people everywhere, our friend Gary graciously offered his home to three weary travelers for a week while he went to Dunedin to shoot a commercial. He said, "Pay it forward" – and I will! We had a free place to stay, hooked up with internet and cable TV, but also the most incredible collection of music and pinot noir known to man. It was actually hard (even for me) to leave Gary's palace overlooking the Remarkable Mountains and Lake Wakitipu. But, of course, I did once my tail-bone felt up to it. Theresa and I hiked to the top of Ben Lomond Peak and I did a spectacular run along the Fernhill Track before it was time to move on.

• Spent some time in Fiordland National Park... cruised Milford Sound with our friend Levi, got DRENCHED by a massive waterfall (camera and all), camped along the fabulous road to Milford Sound where we met Michael, our Scottish star-gazing, rock-sparking friend who joined us for a hike up the perilous slab rock to Gertrude's Saddle and a magnificent view of the sound in the distance.

I think that brings us full-circle... though I'm sure I am missing more than a few other people, places and events that have made up this last long leg of our journey.

So, how absurd is it that as of yesterday, I was honestly contemplating throwing in the towel and making my way back to the good-ol U-S-of-A? How could a trip like this not satisfy me? What on Earth am I looking for?

Well... last night may have changed all that. On an evening run along the bay, I spotted a fleet of kayaks stretched along the bay – each boat in full-pursuit and immediately, I headed in their direction. After weaving around the dead-end streets of Port Nelson for what I feared was enough time to lose sight of them for good, I finally found the take-out ramp and a few ladies lugging their fiberglass boats to their cars. I asked what was going on and before I could blink was being introduced to the city's multi-sport club.

Little did I know (as if the perfect paddling technique wasn't a dead give-a-way), this group consisted of an unnatural amount of the big names in the sport of adventure racing. I was introduced to Nathan Faavae, Richard Ussher and a number of other very nice and suuuper adventurous people! They not only compete at the top of the sport, but they organize the races and fuel the market for adventure sports in New Zealand. It was a surreal moment. I may have even scored a job and a team for a 24-hour adventure race on May 31! Even if that stuff doesn't work out, man... did I hit the networking jackpot or what?

So, to round out this horrendous post...

Traveling teaches you a lot. More than you can ever imagine when you get on that plane. It doesn't matter where you go, or what you hope to gain from the time you spend away from home. To be a traveler is a unique classification. You are a nomad. You have nothing and no one to answer to. You make decisions every day that matter to no one but you. Most importantly, it makes you question yourself to the very core. It makes you think about those big questions... the ones you will probably never answer: what is the meaning of life? What are we all doing here? What the heck kind of job will I get when I do go home? But also, it makes you appreciate the little ones: what qualities do I look for in a friend? What would I do if I had no where to sleep or no food to eat? Can I get by?

I am slowly, but surely figuring it all out... I still have my roots and I'm realizing every day how important they are. I love and miss my family SO MUCH, but does going home allow me to be a better daughter, big-sister or grand-daughter? Or does it make me a quitter?

I am of course reading a lot too, which is wonderful. (I highly recommend: The Alchemist, Between A Rock and A Hardplace, Elephants On Acid, A Thousand Splendid Suns, and my current obsession, It's Not About the Bike.) Every day we interact with folks from all across the globe. This is life. This is what it's all about. Not the finish line, but the journey.

Now, where can I get a mountain bike?

Freefall in Wanaka and the Catlins Coast

2009-02-21T20:21:00.011-05:00

Ladies and Gents, please allow me to introduce J-Dub, our trusty 1988 Toyota Corolla. Sure, he's not the sexiest beast on the road, but he gets us from A to B... sometimes not without a fight.

So first thing first, WE WENT SKYDIVING on a blue-bird Valentines Day in Wanaka and it was (holy sh*t) awesome. We were all so excited to go after months of talking it up, promising ourselves we would skydive in New Zealand and Caitlin and I having to cancel the first trip in Queenstown because of poor conditions. It was definitely worth the wait to jump with crystal clear skies and with all three of us together.

Wanaka is known as the most scenic skydive because it's in the heart of the southern lakes and surrounded by snow-capped mountains. Our tandem guys were great hosts... helping us to feel somewhat confident about what we were about to do and pointing out all the sights during the 15 minute flight to 15,000 ft. My guy, Ollie (Ollie and Ali!) had been skydiving for 17 years, tandem for 9. So, I figured if he was still alive, he must know what he's doing. We all decided to buy the videos as well, which meant there was another jumper with a video and a still camera attached to his helmet that would be falling with us and capturing every moment on film.

We were crammed into this tiny little plane, 10 people plus the pilot. We were organized by weight, so I was jumping first. The glass door opened and Ollie and I scooted over the edge of the plane. Suspended in air, I had to put my legs behind me and grab the chest harness with my hands. As soon as I was in position, off we went. It was nice not having to actually push myself off because I don't think I could have done it! I was terrified for the first 3-5 seconds – just shut my eyes and screamed. Then, I forced myself to open them and was absolutely astonished at what I was seeing.

I couldn't believe I was actually flying (ok Woody, "falling with style")... over mountains and lakes and a winding river miles and miles below. For 60 seconds, we fell. We spun in circles, flapped our arms and smiled for the camera as the wind pounded our cheeks. When the parachute opened, my stomach dropped like when you drive fast over the crest of a hill and then we were floating. Sailing over the patchwork fields with a birds-eye view of Mount Cook, Mount Aspiring, into Fiordlands and beyond to the Tasman Sea. It was a bit of shell-shock, I think – too much to comprehend as it was happening.

After spending a few more days enjoying the little town of Wanaka and a hike to the Rob Roy Glacier, we headed south to the wildlife mecca of the rugged Catlins Coast where we saw cascading waterfalls, sea lions loafing on the beach, unique sea birds fishing along the shore and, the highlight, yellow-eyed penguins displaying their affection on an outcropped rock.

Seeking shelter from the cold wind and spitting rain, we left the coast on Friday looking forward to a hot shower and warm bed in Gore, where I would be running my first 30k on Saturday morning. The Moonshine Trail Bootlegger's 30k was an annual multi-sport race in Gore, a town of about 7,000 residents. Since I was unable to obtain a bike for the 40k MTB race, I had to settle on the run, which I wasn't that excited about. I had been running pretty consistently, but nothing over 1:15 and the Mount Buster excursion in months. Eighteen miles would be do-able, but probably painful and I wasn't sure I'd be able to pace myself for the distance. For some reason the MTB just seemed like the better option. As the rain pounded the roof of the hostel Friday night, however, I was thankful for my forced decision.

A cold, miserable morning welcomed over 600 riders and runners to Dolamore Park Saturday. I was having such a difficult time deciding what to wear, what food to bring and whether or not to use my iPod that I forgot to attach my race bib until the runners were told to gather at the starting line. What an amateur! I am so used to adventure racing where they tell you exactly what to bring and you know you need your rain coat and exactly "x" amount of calories. Try planning race food when you don't know what anything is in the grocery store and the nutrition labels all read kcals and grams per 100g... w.t.f. does that even mean?

Needless to say, I did all right leaving the rain coat, bringing the iPod and three small packets of fruity snacks and one small packet of trail mix. I had my GoLite water bottle thing that straps to your hand and secured my iPod against my wrist with a hair tie. Starting at the VERY back of the pack, I worked my way through the crowd, carefully eyeing up the field. I swear to you, I don't say this often, but it was not about being competitive this time. I really wanted to find people to run with because I didn't know what to expect. I had no idea about the course, the hills, the abundant stream crossings, etc. I wanted to have people around me and since the 15k and 30k started together, it was hard to tell who was running what distance. I over-heard a few adventure-racer-looking women say, "Oh, I'm sure it will take longer than 3 hours today." "Eeek," I thought initially, then, "Ah, chill out... it'll be fine." And it was.

I loved every minute of my 3:07 30k. Even the ones involving the massive climbs and steep, slick, mudslide descents. The creek crossings were great for cleaning off the mud-caked shoes and I traded a smile for every single unavoidable cow patty stomped. It was impossible not to have fun winding the switchbacks to the crests of misty hilltops and then swooping deep into thick beech forest single track. While the first 15k seemed to last forever, the final 15k blew by. We trekked up up and up for what seemed like ages, but then, all of a sudden hit the 25k water stop (I must have missed the 20k stop all together). All I had eaten was one fruity snack pack and two yucky licorice jelly beans, but I seemed to have absorbed energy from the beautiful surroundings. I think the hiking we'd been doing helped a lot on the hills and the single track was fast and flowy, so the course didn't drag one bit.

A quick stop at Pizza Hut and we were on the road again. Now, we're in Te Anau, buried in rain, sleeping in a camper van at a hostel... yes, the hostel had no vacancy, but they had room in a spare old school camper van sometimes used as a last resort. A resort it is not, but beside the faint mold smell, it's not too bad... dry, spacious and much preferred over an 8-person dorm room. We're hoping the weather perks up this week so we can explore the Fiordlands area... Milford Sound, Lake Te Anau and the many other day hikes around here. We may do the Keplar Track (the only "Great Walk" with openings) depending on the weather and the condition of our crappy tent, which didn't hold up well at all during the wind storm in the Catlins. We woke up thinking a sea lion was flopping around outside, leaning his great big body against our tent walls, but it was only the wind – bending the poles unnaturally and pressing the side of the tent onto our heads as we tried to sleep. Ah, the life of a backpacker... ain't nothing better!

Mount Buster Expedition

2009-02-11T17:01:00.003-05:00

Ok, ok... This is not a real "expedition" story like the Kiwi hero Sir Edmund Hillary had when he summited Everest in 1953, but it was a long, fun afternoon of exploration nonetheless.

Sunday, January 31, I set out to conquor at least one of the many peaks surrounding Danseys Pass Hotel where I was staying in exchange for gardening work. It'd been almost 2 full weeks and despite a number of attempts at reaching the top of these diceivingly large hills, I had yet to actually summit anything. Even after hours of climbing, there was always another, bigger hill looming in the background. So, I did my research on Google Earth and found the highest ridge with an accessable road and decided to bike as far as I could bike, then hike the rest.

I planned a nice roughly 25 mile loop starting at the hotel and biking 15 miles to the base of the first big up, Mount Buster. Then, traversing the open ridgeline and climbing the gradual western face of Mount Kyeburn, which towers over the valley and has a clearly cut south facing road back to my temporary home. The hills in Central Otago are open and grassy, topped with scree and skattered with funky rock formations. The dirt is loose, which is why trees have difficulty growing, and vicious spikey shrub-like plants hide amongst the grass. It's been brutal running through this terrain, following the intermittent sheep trails, but I knew this trip would be rewarding as the vast landscape opens up with a texture unlike anywhere I've been in the world.

Well, the rains put me off for 2 days and I had almost given up hope that I would ever be able to make the trip in nice weather. Still, I wasn't ready to risk heading out alone in bad weather... possibly slipping in the sandy mud that would surely be covering the hills. When the sun broke around 3 p.m., I decided to make a dash for it, go until the sun began to set, then race home to beat the cold darkness of a Central Otago night. The sun set between 8:30 and 9, so with roughly six hours to spare, I figured I could at least get to the top of Mount Buster.

The afternoon sun made everything glow as I sped down Danseys Pass Road and veered right onto Little Kyeburn Road, which turned into Mount Buster Road a few miles down. I felt amazingly fresh for only having been on my bike a handful of times. I could spot the peaks along the horizon. Their dark could cover was just beginning to move away.

The sun was still high in the sky when I reached the base of the mountain. The climb up was steep and my quads were beginning to ache as I powered up the hill with all my might. I made it about two-thirds of the way to the top until it became too steep to climb on my bike. By abandoning the bike, I had made the decision to turn back instead of trying to complete the loop I had planned. Since it was already close to 6 p.m. when the road veered north toward Mount Kyeburn, I figured the out and back was the safer route anyway. I had a headlamp, but the last thing I wanted was to get turned around in the middle of nowhere.

The golden glow intensified as I worked my way across the ridge, just trying to get to the best vantage point for some photos. I always carry my big camera and two lenses on these trips, which sometimes feels stupid, but is usally rewarded with once-in-a-lifetime photographs. At the saddle, just before the ascent to Mount Kyeburn, there was finally that view I was longing for. A rare New Zealand hawk cawed in the distance and I marveled at his massive wing-span as he coasted the breeze before diving for prey.

Then it hit me... it's going to get dark soon! So I ran for the next hour, across the ridge, down the steep road and finally reached my bike. Ok, so I stopped a few times for photos. I ripped down the road, past grazing sheep, an old mining operation, a desolate cabin or two and finally back to the hotel at exactly 8:30 p.m. It couldn't have worked out better. Five-and-a-half hours of intensity and a visual slideshow that I will always remember.

Dog Days in Dunedin

2009-02-11T16:50:00.003-05:00

It seems I've been neglectful of my blog... so let's see if I can do some catching up!

Caitlin, Theresa and I are just about to leave the most amazing little hostel imaginable, Hogwartz Backpackers, in Dunedin. Caitlin and I have been here for a week waiting for Theresa to arrive from the US and looking for a reliable automobile to cart us around the country for the next 6 months. Our first inclination was to find a nice big van we could make into our home, but after shopping around and talking to people who had more experience than us in south island travel, we landed on buying a cheap car that we could practically give away when we leave in July (who would buy a van in the middle of winter?) And we found one! A 1989 Toyota Corolla lift back for the unbeatable price of $750 NZ (or roughly $US375!) We pick her up today and will finally be able to get this trip moving again.

While waiting in Dunedin, Caitlin and I have done lots of reading, drawing, crossword puzzles and sudoku. We've also done lots of hill climbing and shopping and I have gotten in a solid 30-75 minute run every day except Caitlin's bday when we went to the Larnach Castle to admire someone elses struggles in the gardens and hunt for a ghost, whose presence we never actually "sensed".

On the topic of gardening... Caitlin and I had labored away at Danseys Pass Hotel in Central Otago for a couple weeks before deciding that it wasn't working out. So, we now spot every weed in every flower bed along the road and I have taken a particular interest in photographing flowers... something I've never really appreciated before!

Other fun things we found to do in Dunedin: Chinese dragon boat racing in the harbor for the Chinese New Year celebration; Caitlin's Indian bday dinner; Starbucks; Great Taste $8 All You Can Eat Buffet (lunch and dinner for $4!); ORINETEERING!!!!!!!

Yes, I competed in a local Wednesday night orienteering event where I ran the orange course (the highest at this particular event) and managed to roll my bad ankle too! With the exception of the stupid ankle roll, it was a blast and I hope to find more events to do while I'm here. Including either the Moonshine 30k Mountain Run or the 40k Mountain Bike Race on Feb. 21 in Gore. Since it runs along side the Gore Moonshine Festival, Caitlin and Theresa are "keen" to go! My first choice is the MTB race, but that's going to depend on whether or not I can get my bike from the Danseys or rent one in Gore.

After the festival, we will head south to spend a few days exploring the southern coastline, the Catlins, which is famous for abundant wildlife: rare penguins, sea lions, seals, albatross and other birds. It's an area rich with rugged beaches and deep forests, waterfalls and the sound of silence. I can't wait!

Up next, one more attempt at skydiving. This time, we're heading to Wanaka for the Valentines Day weekend. Jumping out of a plane? What a way to celebrate! Then, we will finally get to see the revelled Milford Sound and do some more trekking (mostly day hikes since we never secured campsites on the Milford Track). Either way, the road to Milford Sound is littered with great sites, best of all, the last stretch of the Routeburn Track, which we never did in its entirety.

So, big plans for our finally completed trio. Hopefully this bombardment of updates will hold you for a while as I doubt we'll see much internet access for at least another month! Please keep in touch and I'll post more photos on the Flickr site as soon as I can!

Flashback to the Routeburn

2009-02-11T15:35:00.003-05:00

After poor weather twarted our attempt at skydiving in Queenstown, we headed into the wild for a 3-day hike (called track or tramping in NZ) on the Routeburn Track. It's one of the "Great Walks" which means it is not only designated as one of the most incredible tracks in the country, but the trail is also meticulously well-kept and marked and you see lots of people along the way. Not all totally positive elements to an outdoor excursion, but considering Caitlin's never been backpacking before and we have a pretty cheap tent/stove and weren't sure we were ready for any extreme experiences quite yet, we thought it would be a great one to do. This one was particuarly cool because it takes us through both beech rainforest and alpine tundra and half is in Mt. Aspiring Natl park and the rest is in Fiordlands.

I was a little peeved at the kid behind the counter at the information center when we asked about the different tracks. The first thing he said to me when I asked which he would recommend is, "I hope you're not hiking in jeans" like we were two idiot girls with no clue what we were doing. I wanted to be a snob and ask if he'd ever hiked for 8 days straight with less than 15 hours of total sleep, but thought better of it. Then he proceeded to tell us that it takes 4 days to hike the Routeburn and that no one does it in three days (which is all the time we could afford to take). I couldn't imagine how 30k could take 4 days, but figured the little brat knew what he was talking about. So, we booked two nights at the first campsite and decided we'd spend the second day hiking light and fast to the saddle (highest point) and back. The weather wasn't very good at the moment on the Fiordlands side, so hopeully by sticking to the eastern slopes, we could avoid the rain.

Well, as it turns out everyone under the age of 65 does the Routeburn in 3 days. We did have a miserable time on the first day with our heavy packs (still dialing in what's necessary to bring out) and were happy to be rid of them for Day 2 and the long, rocky climb to the saddle. It was well worth the early start to be at the top of the Conical Hill surrounded by snowy peaks and the deep river valley below. While it was cloudy with just spots of sun, I could see all the way to the Tasman Sea. The wind was so fierce on the top of the hill I was barely able to snap a few photos before being blown off and with the expected rain storm for 5 pm that night, I hurried down not more than 10 minutes after sprinting to the top. Caitlin was waiting at the saddle and we quickly started the trip back to the campsite... looking forward to a warm dinner.

I started the stove while Caitlin inquired around camp for a can opener. She waltzed back to camp with an open can and what else but a tall, dark, handsome Hungarian who was chatting away about his trip in broken english. We had fun that night playing card games and talking about the LOTR sites... turns out he was WAY more of a fan than even I am. We decided to hike back together and catch the 10 am bus to Glenochy (6.4k to the trailhead and then the 27k bus ride into town). Our friend wanted to walk back into town to save the $20 it cost to take the bus, but Caitlin wanted none of that and I had to agree. Except, after waiting 10 unexpected minutes for the long train of new arrivals to cross a one-man bridge, we arrived at the trailhead at 9:56 and the bus was already gone. As the next bus didn't come until 2 pm, it looked like we were hiking back too.

We had our first hitch-hiking experience when about an hour and a half later, a car rolled up beside us... the first to pass in that direction. We hopped in with a young German couple who was on the trip of my dreams... all the US national parks, Peru, Bolivia and Argentina, New Zealand and maybe Australia after this. They were really great to talk to and told us some fun things to do that we had not thought of... like swimming with the dolphins in the Catlins, which is now on the top of both of our to do lists.

The Routeburn

2009-01-28T18:02:00.008-05:00

Mt. Aspiring National Park, New Zealand

While I really wanted to spend the morning writing a blog entry to go along with these photos, it seems the hours have slipped away and that will have to wait. However, I am really exited about them, so I decided to post a preview!

Fiji: So long, fare well

2009-01-11T19:15:00.000-05:00

Saturday, January 10, 2009
Auckland International Airport, New Zealand

--

Reflections on the last few days...

Grime... dirty, smelly city.
Wet... water everywhere.
Thirsty... so thirsty.
Hungry... please no more bread.
Helpless... sit, wait, no answers.
Scared... deep water, loud Fijians.
Airport... finally.
Air New Zealand... wonderful.
Tent... fuck.
Auckland... maybe next time.

--

Fiji is an interesting place. It landscape is undeniably beautiful. Its people are often overwhelmingly friendly and welcoming – eager to help even if they don't have the answer and quick to ask "Your first time in Fiji? How do you like it?" Well, my first, second and third impressions of this country were very much positive, but after experiencing the flood today, I would be lying if I said I am eager to return.

Maybe it is unfair for me to place such harsh judgement on the infrastructure of a country whose population's average income ranks among the lowest in the world, but for a place that prides itself on bringing tourism dollars into the economy, they should be held accountable for their inability to respond during an emergency. The way stranded vacationers were pushed aside, handed off and worst of all, extorted when we had no other options – it was repulsive.

Confined to a one-block radius in central "shit town" Nadi was the last place I wanted to be. When I saw the decrepit hotel room, I wanted to run away as fast as my feet could take me, but we had few options as our flight was leaving early in the morning and this place – the Nadi Hotel – bordered the bus terminal. Rain beat on the metal awning as we tried to focus on the movie and not the two-inch cockroach that lay dead by the door. We curled up on the soris (long skirts) we had purchased in Namatakula so that no part of our flesh touched the stained sheets. I slept with my shoes on too. It was a fitful night of discomfort, but eventually the alarm sounded... 6:30 am. Time to get going.

The rain had not let up during the night and in the morning, the streets were rivers and the parks just swamps with a steady current sweeping debris to the water's edge. Fortunately, I guess, the Nadi Hotel was on a hill, so we were "safe" but most of the city was under water and the power was down. Water was up to the stop signs in spots. The busses were submerged to their windows. Shops had been invaded. The blue roof of the market seemed to be floating in the murky brown water as people waded with bags on their heads to solid ground.

The photojournalist in me was actually caught up in the whole ordeal. I wanted to break out my big camera, roam this devastating water-world and send images to the Associated Press, but the mood was understandably tense and we needed to find transport to the airport or risk spending another night at the roach motel. We had two Fijian dollars and a handful of American cash. There was not even one functioning ATM on our small island and the only hope of transportation was a ratty old boat owned by an off-duty police officer who was charging $100FJD to ferry people across. Of course, the only people anxious to get to the other side of the flood were tourists who needed to get to the airport. So, this man knew he had just found an easy way to make a few hundred bucks since he was operating the only boat in the entire city (amazing to note considering its giant marina and many water sports enthusiasts).

After hours of sitting in the police station waiting for the boat to return, the cops decided suddenly to drop us all at a backpacker's hostel around the corner. The hostel had no idea we were all coming and we didn't want to sit at a hostel and wait for matters to get worse. The forecast was for rain, rain and more rain and if only we could get across the 300-meter stretch of rough water, we could catch a flight and wave good-bye to our Fijian nightmare. So, after another long stretch of time, we all separately migrated back to bother the dumbfounded police once again. A couple we were with had set off just minutes before Caitlin and I and were able to catch the boat. We submitted to a third round of seemingly endless waiting as more groups of backpackers made their way to the station. All were similarly frustrated with stories of their own escapades.

Around 2 p.m., two Australian backpackers came rushing to the station to tell everyone there was a "big truck" that had just returned from the other side of the flood and would take passengers for $50 each to the airport. Realizing this may end badly, but that it could also be one of our last chances to escape the chaos, we rushed down the hill to the truck and piled in with all our belongings. We handed off our packs and climbed the rusty ladder and over the edge before dropping into a 4-foot bed beside fifty-or-so other adventurous passengers. The massive gravel truck picked up speed before plowing into the splashy maze of curbs and parking meters. We passed store owners with brooms and buckets, fruitlessly attempting to empty their businesses of the encroaching waters. Despite the tragedy, everyone we passed laughed, waved and cheered us on as the group of Fijians danced and sang in the back of the truck. "To the airport! Come along and join us!" They shouted as we continued along.

We finally made it to the airport, but after missing our original flight and the second one we had booked earlier that day, Caitlin and I gorged on vegetable samosas and a cheese sandwich and settled into some comfy couches to wait out the night until the next morning's 10 am flight (which was already over-booked). If we couldn't get on that one, we had another chance for Sunday morning, but that was over-booked too. It was all looking pretty dismal until a French couple we had spent the day with came over to me and said they had just gotten seats on the 6:30 p.m. Air New Zealand flight to Auckland. Air Pacific was all booked up, but Air New Zealand seemed to have plenty of seat available!

So, we ended up making it out of Fiji on the 9th, just as we had intended. What a relief. What an adventure! And not the kind I'm used to having... although the major elements were the same... sleep deprived, dehydrated, hungry, wet, smelly, confused, frustrated... Guess it was a great day of training after all!!!!

But a strange way to say good-bye to a country. The range of our experiences in Fiji was pretty wild and I don't think it really registered what an emergency situation we were involved in until now, a few days later... safe and sound, back in civilization... Christchurch, New Zealand. We decided to by-pass a short stay in Auckland and instead get to Christchurch as soon as we can. We're not sure when we'll finally make it to Danseys Pass, but both Caitlin and myself are eager to unpack the soggy bags and set up camp. I packed too much stuff!!!!!

For a little more information on the flooding in Fiji: http://www.canberratimes.com.au/news/local/news/general/state-of-emergency-in-fiji-after-flooding/1404602.aspx

And don't forget to check the Flickr site for photos!!!!

Fiji impressions, day 1

2009-01-11T18:36:00.002-05:00

Thursday, January 1, 2009
Nadi to Mango Bay Resort, Coral Coast, Fiji

Birds bustle in lush green tangled trees that provide an immediate break from the hot sun as it beats through the window of our coach bus headed south from the airport in Nadi. Messy rows of tall grass sparkle in the morning light, still damp from the cool night air. Bare-footed locals march solemnly along the road as our friendly driver honks at every car, truck or bus we pass. Every so often, a tree with fiery orange flowers brings focus to a sea of the freshest green I've ever laid eyes on. Cows, goats, and the occasional horse adorn the front lawns of simple, rectangular homes with colorful metal siding and overgrown palms. This long ride is a tease because while we know white and teal sand and surf are not far from the road, a rolling horizon keeps the idilic beaches hidden from our view.

The lucent melody of Jack Johnson's "All at Once" plays on repeat inside my head. Strangely, it's sweet and somber lyrics seems to fit because not in my wildest dreams would I have imagined myself here – on an island paradise – tramping the south pacific in search of inspiration, clarity and my next move. Time is all of a sudden irrelevant. Modern responsibilities are a burden already far away from this place. The world is at our finger tips and we are totally free to explore it as we wish.

"All at once,
The world can overwhelm me
There's almost nothing that you could tell me
That could ease my mind

Which way will you run
When it's always all around you
And the feelin' lost and found you again
A feelin' that we have no control

Around the sun
Some say it's going to be the new hell
Some say it's still too early to tell
Some say it really ain't no myth at all

We keep asking ourselves
Are we really strong enough?
There's so many things
That we got too proud of
We're too proud of
We're too proud of

I wanna take the preconceived
Out from underneath your feet
We could shake it off
And instead we'll plant some seeds
We'll watch them as they grow
And with each new beat
From your heart the roots grow deeper
The branches, well they reach for what?

Nobody really knows
But underneath it all
There's this heart all alone
What about when it's gone?
It really won't be so long
Sometimes it feels like a heart
Is no place to be singing from at all

There's a world we've never seen
There's still hope between the dreams
The weight of it all could blow away
With a breeze
But if your waiting on the wind
Don't forget to breathe
Because as the darkness gets deeper
We're sinkin' as we reach for love

At least something we can hold
But I'll reach to you
From where time just can't go
What about when it's gone?
It really won't be so long
Sometimes it feels like a heart
Is no place to be singing from at all"

New Website!

2008-12-12T23:02:00.003-05:00

After three straight days of sitting inside, screaming, throwing stuff and rubbing my bleeding eyeballs, my new and MUCH improved website is finally up and running... almost all of it.

There are a few things left to do and some small errors to fix, but to say reaching this moment has been a goal of mine for a long time would be an immense understatement. I've been putting it off for lack of knowing where to start for almost 2 years! So this is a big day for me!

Check it out: http://www.aabphotography.com

Recent ramblings...

2008-12-10T01:11:00.007-05:00

It's been over a month since my last post, which was also the last time I really sat down to write. It's strange having gone from being a full-time journalist to well... a bum... so suddenly. I miss the hours spent banging my head against a wall in hopes that the vibrations would shake stubborn words onto a page. I miss the pressure to pull scattered thoughts into coherency and most of all, I miss that moment of serenity when a story is done and the photos are filed as well as the jolt I had each time I saw my work in print.

This in-between time has certainly been one of self-reflection and self-discovery. The most overwhelming of my recent discoveries is that I miss Montana and the life I had there. I loved just about every minute under the "big sky" and having left in such a hurry, I really do feel cheated. Once again, like so often before, I barely had time to settle in before I had to go. There is something to be said for structure and stability.

But there is no turning back either; I had my choices and I made them. The only thing left to do is move forward and I can live with that too. On Dec. 30, I will board the first of three planes bound for Los Angeles, then Fiji and ultimately, New Zealand on a trip of a lifetime with a very good friend. Young, unattached and with nothing to lose and everything to gain, it's hard to be anything but thrilled to begin this next adventure. Yet Semisonic's lyric "every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end" has never hit so close to home.

I've always believed that things work out for the best when we are not afraid to take risks, follow opportunity and let the waves of fortune and circumstance lead us to new people and exciting experiences. Even in this time of uncertainty and doubt, I must have complete trust in that theory and the faith to see it through.

Happy Holidays.

USARA Nationals

2008-11-08T11:48:00.003-05:00

First, an apology for the long stretch of blogging neglect. A lot has happend that I wish I had blogged! Here is a race report from this weekend's race in Blue Ridge, Georgia.

The start was pretty cool as they had us all board an old touring train that followed along the river as the sun came up and the mist lifted off the water. The train dropped us off in Tennessee actually... a multi-state race, pretty sweet!

As with a lot of these races, once the gun went off, it was a complete mess. 80+ teams rushed down a gravel road and filed into single track trail (or spread out through thick forest) to find the fist prologue checkpoint. We were able to get to it relatively quickly and only had to wait for a few minutes as the mass of racers grew around the flag. Luckily, we got through the next 2 points with out any problems and near enough to the top of the pack to get across the knee deep creek and into the boats before things got too crazy. They had the canoes actually putting in upstream from the crossing, so there were a few hairy moments as boats and people crossed paths.

The paddle leg was b-r-u-t-a-l, but at least the sun was out for most of it. There was just enough water to keep the canoe moving most of the time, but there was also a team of highly trained ninja rocks that even the villainous ninjutsu master Shredder would be proud of. With the low, back lit sunlight on their side, this deceptive Foot Clan was quite a frustrating impediment to forward progress. There were also a number of small rapids (mini compared to PQ standards, but a bit scary none the less). Chris manned the steering and Brent read the water like a pro. We had our brand new, carbon fiber Werner paddles and while they made steering through rapids tricky at times, on the flat sections, we ate up teams left and right.

As time passed however, the boat took on more and more water and before long, I was swimming in it. Constantly re-arranging myself from sitting Indian style, to straight legged, to kneeling, that canoe ride did not disappoint in the misery department. The race directors forbid teams from bringing any sort of third seat along and made a point in the rules to make sure no one sat on the center bars. So, there weren't many options except to try and sit on my pack, which I did at times only to find out later that I had drained all my water from my hydration bladder. It was a great indication of my need to hit the gym for some core strengthening too. Oh how those abs and my back ached.

Anyway, the whole eating/drinking thing is always a challenge during a long paddle, especially when you are constantly stepping in and out to push the boat off rocks and through shallow stretches. I think we dug ourselves into a bit of a hole during those first few hours on the water. I tried to feed and make the boys drink as much as I could, but none of us really consumed enough calories and it became apparent later in the day that Chris especially had over-exerted himself and not eaten enough early on.

We exited the water in 19th place, but after a long, arduous portage, we had probably dropped a few spots. Brute muscle power is not really one of our team's strengths. So, to make up what we could, we made sure to run the next foot section, about 6 or so miles to the bikes. It was a fun run mostly on flat single track trails beside the scenic waterway. We were pretty happy with ourselves when a strong team, ATP passed us during this run and we were able to stick with them for the rest of the way.

This is when the course went from moderately insane to absolutely torturous. It was just up, up and up. Thanks to a number of lingering injuries that prevented me from running this summer, my biking legs were stronger than ever and I actually enjoyed the endless climbing.

However, Brent's bike had suddenly become possessed by the devil and would not, under any condition, shift gears. First he was stuck in the middle ring during a long stretch of uphill single track. We let a line of teams pass us, only to pass them again once he was able to shift it back into first. Then, it wouldn't get out of first, so he was spinning like a madman on the flats. Fortunately, I guess, this wasn't often the case.

We continued along at a good pace for about 20 miles (there is some debate between my computer and Brent's, which read 30). The map was an old forest service map without many of the roads and almost none of the trails, so navigation was kind of a crap shoot, although we seemed to be making all the right guesses. We caught teams like Berlin Bike, Nature's Cure and Alpine Shop and spent some time cranking up hills with Wicked Pissah. The race was shaping up to be a home run! We were working well together and having fun.

Just when we had finally dried off from the canoe leg, the sky opened up and the rain came pouring down. Then we hit the hike-a-bike from hell. What would have been a hard, but fun narrow forested single track trail along a monstrous ridge line turned into a Slip and Slide nightmare, which took its toll on our already tired upper bodies. The trail was covered in leaves. An obstacle in their own right, the leaves masked everything from rocks to, primarily, tiny downed trees and twigs, which if hit at an odd angle, would send your bike whipping out from under you. It was one of those rides when just as you thought it was clear to ride, you'd hit an obstacle that forced you to get off and lift the bike. This took a lot out of us. I got through it by thinking... this is not nearly as bad as the Alpine Trail this summer (thanks Wayne!!).

When we reached the bike drop at CP8 (around 5 p.m. I think), we were sort of shocked to see a long line of bikes lining the road. We had run into a number of teams on the upper trails that were having navigational problems and we amazingly hit everything just right. I guess we were around 23rd place and found out later that many of the teams ahead of us hadn't cleared the last section. So, we were still doing well and just within our goal of top 15-20.

The next foot section could be done in any order, so Brent suggested attacking the off-trail CPs first while we still had some daylight. This turned out to be a great call and after about 1,000 ft. of trekking up an illusive trail to Mule Top, we found the first CP hanging on a tree. It would have been a lot harder to see in the dark. However, our next move was a bit sketchy. We had to somehow get down a steep spur (I have no idea how far down, but let's go with reeeeally far). Of course, it was thick with rhododendron and water-logged dead trees. Stray vines, pricker bushes and slick leave-covered rocks made for some dangerous bushwacking, but we somehow made it out unscathed.

Rolling the dice, we followed an unmarked, unmapped trail straight to a CP. We were supposed to follow flagging to the next one, which passed through private property, but we couldn't see any flagging and opted to head down the same trail, which was going, more or less, in the correct direction. Well, after maybe 30 minutes, the trail abruptly died in someone's backyard and we woke up a rather obnoxious dog. We were totally unsure of our next move, but could see headlamps right across the yard. We were deep in debate for our next move when another team came down the trail and decisively marched across the grass in the direction of the lights. The boys were nervous about trespassing, but ultimately, with few other options, we turned off our headlamps and followed suit, hit a road and ran to the next CP. Shortly after, we were informed by a team that a gunshot had been heard in the general vicinity of the obnoxious dog. Hmm... oops.

The run/hike back to the bikes was a long, but gradual uphill. Trekking hard on the ups and running the flats and downs, we started to notice that Chris had fallen behind and when we called back, it took him a while to snap out of his own world and respond. This was a clear sign that he was starting to fade, so we stopped, ate and slowed the pace to help him recover. Unfortunately, the pace up to this point (roughly 12 hours of hard racing) had left his gas gauge hovering around that red line at E. Mentally, he was pretty down too. Thinking about the more than 50 miles of racing we still had ahead of us, we decided to take some time at the bike transition, change out of our wet clothes and see how he felt on the next leg.

As a result, our next transition was slooooow. We saw a number of teams roll through, all looking rather ragged, still wet and very, very cold. I'm going to throw out a recommendation to all race directors... don't try to predict finish times. Please. You're always wrong. At the race briefing Thursday night, this RD had told the group he expected the winning teams to clear the course in 18 hours. He expected at least two-thirds of the teams to clear it. As a result, I had packed light. Just enough food... roughly 22 hours worth... and one thin extra layer, both top and bottom. Sitting at that transition area, waiting for Brent and Chris to strap on their neoprene booties, put on their nice, thick poly pro fleece, fleece-lined gloves, etc. I was cursing this man. Frozen to the core, with wet gloves, shoes, socks and one thin layer under my rain coat, I needed to get moving.

Brent's bike, again, had other ideas. He was still stuck in his granny gear, but now, it was grinding and ghost shifting as well. We crossed a swamped creek, just to make sure our shoes were appropriately numb, then stopped to work on the bike. After diagnosing the problems a clogged cable issue and deciding there was nothing we could do out on the course, Brent saddled up and persevered again... what a tough racer and true teammate. (Earlier in the race, my headlamp died mysteriously and knowing how uncomfortable I was on rocky terrain, he gave me his and used a weak, mini back-up light himself.)

At the top of the next hill, however, Chris's bike lashed out in an untimely bout of chain suck. So, we had to stop again and pry out the chain from between the frame and front cogs. What a miserable... hour? Thanks to daylight savings, we had been in the dark since 5:30-ish and it felt much later than it was. Mechanical issues galore, the monster miles remaining were definitely breaking our spirits. I was mainly just cold... very, very cold. So, when we hit the last major road before roughly 40 miles of rough and tumble trail with no exit route, we spoke with race management and opted to call it a day. Chris wasn't sure he had the energy to make it to the finish line and Brent's bike was a disaster. He briefly thought about continuing on with me, but had used so much extra energy just to make it to that point and there was a long way to go.

Forsaking the optional 15-mile haul back to the finish for a ride home in a warm truck, we were officially done. I had grand intentions of continuing on with the next team I knew who passed through, but ultimately decided I didn't want to hold another team responsible if I had any issues, didn't want to tag onto a team without being able to trust their navigation or decision-making skills and didn't think it would be nearly as fun or rewarding to finish the race without my teammates. Plus, that truck was soooo warm.

With all said and done, yes I am disappointed. This is my first DNF since my first adventure race and I felt ready both physically and mentally to go on and finish strong. I came to Blue Ridge to race my heart out, but the adventure racing gods were not with us and in a sport where so much can go wrong so quickly, I respect our team's decision to stop before digging ourselves into a potentially dangerous hole. Chris and Brent were incredible teammates. We came out, raced hard for roughly 15 hours against tough competition and in truly challenging conditions. Many other teams faced the same difficult decision. I think it was a humbling experience for everyone. Man versus nature... you win some, you lose some.

Oh USARA Nationals... we shall meet again.

Misty byways ...

2008-10-08T16:39:00.002-04:00

I'm back
To feeling lost;
Completely directionless;
Uninspired;
Bored.

Again trying to figure out what I am doing with my life.
Again weighing my patience with the absurdities of this job
And the uncertainties of letting it all go for a little adventure
To feel alive again.

It's always amazing to me how quickly things can change.
For better or worse, I guess.

Livestrong Challenge 2008

2008-09-01T17:10:00.003-04:00

Drexel Swimming takes on a century ride for charity: http://shawnmarkey.blogspot.com/2008/08/livestrong-challenge-2008.html

Professional Therapy

2008-09-01T14:48:00.005-04:00

I’ve had a pretty terrible week. Yes, I’ve experienced worse in terms of a single event or series of events that affected me, but over which I had no control.

This past week, however, reminded me repeatedly that we human beings are not perfect creatures. We make mistakes. Sometimes they’re relatively insignificant and we are able to shrug them off with a smile and continue on with the day. Other times, consequences are much greater. Sometimes, our mistakes make us accountable for the well being of others. And sometimes, they’re just plain dumb.

This past week, I’ve just been plain dumb.

It started out when I carelessly picked up speed on a sunny afternoon drive along Highway 35, only to meet and greet with a friendly officer who wrote me a pretty pink ticket.

The real fun started when I inadvertently abandoned my wallet on the bumper of my truck as I pulled out of a parking lot. Inside were my precious collection of personal identification from driver’s license to Red Cross certifications, a handful of credit cards and a relatively substantial wad of cash. (I never carry cash, but a friend had just paid me back for something big … and there you have it.) When I returned minutes later to the site of my ignorance, all that remained scattered in the dirt were an empty bag of trail mix and my water bottle. Both had been sitting on the back of the truck, next to my wallet, which was gone.

Instead of wallowing in my grief and stressing out about the loss, however, I tried to be a bigger person. I made the necessary calls to the credit card companies and put a hold on any new accounts in my name. After all, s%*t happens. Then, I went mountain biking.

For three hours, I was whole again. Outside problems seemed to fade into a blurry background of green and brown as my mind focused on the slideshow of rocks, roots and ruts flashing below my handlebars.

I snapped back to reality on the drive home as I remembered some of the other items I would have to do without. Most dominant, perhaps, was the key to my apartment. Having to stomach losing cash was one thing, but now, I would have to shell out more hard-earned money to have the locks changed.

Further down the list, but no less important to my existence: my National Park Pass — an $80 piece of plastic that had been a staple source of inspiration and frequent break from monotony since Day One of moving to Montana. Talk about your low blows, but life goes on.

Wallet-incident aside, the week progressed and things started to look up. I got through the bulk of the workweek without too much hassle, but on Friday, after an incredible day hiking and photographing in Glacier, I somehow managed to top it all off by locking my keys in my car.

Anger, aggravation, disappointment … none of those words seem to quite fit how I was feeling the moment I peeked through the window and spotted that cluster of keys on the seat. I decided that I wasn’t going to throw any more money out the window due to my own stupidity. “Fine,” I said to myself. I wasn’t going to drive at all. From now on, I was biking everywhere. Rain or shine.

Happily, that vow lasted all of 30 minutes as a friend managed to work some magic and recover my trapped keys. Still, though, I was an emotional disaster. I couldn’t figure out why so many things were going wrong all at once. I joked with others about taking my social security card, birth certificate and passport to the top of a mountain and watching them soar away in the form of paper airplanes. Feeling rather deflated, I migrated to my room and turned on the camera, which had accompanied me to Glacier earlier that day.

As I paged through the images on the memory card, I started to feel better — what an incredible day it had been. In the midst of the chaos surrounding my recent misfortunes, there were a hundred or so images of “the Crown of the Continent.” Towering peaks draped in luscious green forests. Glowing meadows speckled with wild flowers and patches of snow. Big, white, fluffy clouds that constantly moved across the land highlighting different facets of the Earth’s magnificence.

I had watched mountain goats wander the paths at the top of the world that morning near Logan’s Pass and then meandered through a dense cedar forest along a deep canyon where ferocious teal water seemed to infinitely flow from a mountain lake. Those priceless hours I had spent in nature came rushing back as I sat in that dark room.

Suddenly, it all made sense. Sure, there will be weeks like this where nothing seems to go right. While unbelievably frustrating at the time, those minor incidents will ultimately fade into the background. I will get a new driver’s license; my bank account will recover. I will forget this week ever happened.

On the other hand, I will never forget that day at Glacier. I will always count on the memories — the excitement I feel when rounding corners on a new trail or reaching a new ridgeline and the experience of a never-before-seen vista. The day may come when I shrug off an encounter with a mountain goat, but I doubt it. The thrills that nature provides keep me going on this winding, bumpy road. I hope she inspires you too.

Lost in the Missions

2008-08-13T13:37:00.007-04:00

“Is this the trail?” I called out to Matt, a friend from back east who visited me in my new Montana home last week.

“Here it is,” he replied (for about the eighty-seventh time that day) and we continued on our way.

Matt and I were hiking in the Mission Mountain Range — and we use the term “hiking” lightly. Since the previous night, we’d been doing more scrambling, squeezing and navigating through thick brush than hiking on trail.

It was late morning on the second day of an intended overnight trek from McDonald to Moon, then Summit Lakes, over Eagle Pass and back into the valley in time for lunch and an afternoon at the office. After all, it was a Tuesday morning and the paper goes to press Tuesday night. I was pushing the generosity of my editor, but the route looked simple and straightforward on the map and Matt only had a week to see what’s taken me six months to explore — and I’ve still only scratched the surface. In fact, with the exception of some day hikes, my experience in the Missions was limited.

I knew the terrain was rough and the upper trails were often spotty and littered with fallen trees, but with a lifetime of hiking in National Parks or on the Appalachian Trail, I had not expected such an extreme. Matt and I were so unbelievably exhausted from fighting the large, sharp and relentless obstacles on the trail and equally fed up with the thriving mosquito population that we called it quits by the time we found what we believed to be Summit Lake. Closing in on nine-o’clock, we had hiked for about five hours. We could camp at the lake, then take on the pass in the morning. Plus, nestled in the stunning bowl surrounding the high mountain lake, we knew that sunrise would be magnificent.

Now, five hours into the second day, we had scrambled up a scree field to exit the bowl and were meandering through a lush green valley, surrounded by steep slopes, wild flowers and patches of snow. We had not seen another human in 12 hours, but we were starting to worry that we hadn’t reached the upcoming switchback decent or a convincing trail in that time either. Finally, we broke through the trees. From our perch atop a rocky cliff, the valley lay below us on all three sides — a rolling blanket of deep green contrasted the scattered orange walls of rock and cascading waterfalls. We took a moment to marvel at the view, then broke out the map to check our location.

We were puzzled by the shape of the valley. Hadn’t we seen that peak last night on the hike up? We should be two ridges over if that’s the case. Not satisfied with what we were seeing, Matt unpacked his compass for the first time. Lesson learned: Compass bearings are your friend — even if you think you know what direction you are headed.

At some point, we had apparently stopped following the correct trail and had worked our way to the edge of an unknown cliff. It was closing in on noon. As Matt downed the last few drops of his water bottle, I started to worry that our “quick” hike had just become an epic adventure. We had no idea where we were.

Matt scouted for ways up and down the cliff, determined to make it down the mountain without having to retrace too many steps. We had definitely followed an animal trail to get there, so in his mind, at some point, something must have made it down as well.

I hated this idea. Looking across the valley I could see the endless jagged cliffs that dropped to nothingness with little or no warning. Without rope, we could easily get ourselves into serious trouble by venturing too far from solid ground. Still, Matt was older, “wiser” and more experienced in the backcountry than I, so, I let him test his theories.

“I think I see the trail,” Matt said, sprawled out and practically hanging half his body over the edge. “We can climb down here.”

He pointed to a narrow inside corner where the rock and small trees resembled a very sketchy set of stairs. It was steep, but climb-able. I asked Matt if he, “for sure”, saw a trail below and he said, “Yes, but this may be the worst idea I ever had.” So, down we went — and yes, it was.

Crouched on a slope behind a pair of small pines, we had reached Matt’s so-called “trail” and it quickly became apparent that this was not the way to go. Another hour had gone by in the process. We had hit a wall. Physically, we were tired. Mentally, we were absolutely drained. Miraculously, my cell phone had a few minutes of service on this open spur, so I called and left a voicemail with friends saying where we were (to our best knowledge) and that we may have to camp another night. Just as I was about to call the office and let them know not to expect me back tonight, the service died and to conserve battery power, we turned off the phone. It was my turn to make decisions and I knew Matt wouldn’t like what I was about to suggest.

“I am not going down that cliff,” I said to him. “This is stupid. These mountains are steep. Following a creek (as was his recommendation) would likely mean sliding down a 400-foot waterfall. If you get hurt, I can’t drag all 187-pounds of you out of here. I am turning around.”

We used the topographic features we had followed that morning to get back to our mystery pass. Then, we went down the steep bowl, back over the labyrinth of downed trees and onto the well-worn trail toward McDonald Lake.

My phone flashed 11 voicemails and six unread text messages once cell service kicked in at the lake. Apparently, the ladies at work had worried — a lot — and everyone from the Sheriff to the tribe had been notified of my disappearance. I was told they were minutes away from sending out a search and rescue party when we touched base around 7 p.m.

I felt horrible — like a brat kid who’d run away from home just to worry Mom and Dad. Beyond that, however, I was thoroughly impressed with our communities response to the situation. It was with an awkward combination of embarrassment and thankfulness that I called the Sheriff’s office and Tara Carvey from Search and Rescue to alert them of my return to town. I couldn’t (and still can’t) believe how many people were honestly worried about me.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again ... Lake County never ceases to amaze me. Thank you to the family I have found here at the Leader; as well as to the tribe and county officials who go above and beyond the call of duty to take care of their community. My sincerest apologies to everyone for being so irresponsible. And to anyone who plans to venture into the mountains: Leave a note.

It must be summer

2008-07-31T00:25:00.002-04:00

All signs point toward summer. Congested streets and waterways, packed restaurants, long lines at the grocery stores. Finally, it seems the fun surrounding "summer vacation" has arrived in Polson, MT... well, for some people.

For the rest of us, the month has, at times, been tourist-driven chaos... Flathead cherry festivals, hydro-plane regattas, street basketball tournaments, county fairs and rodeos - you name it, we've either had it or got it now. Still, despite the non-stop photo-snapping and name-scratching required of the small-town reporter, I'm loving the culture shock.

Last week, my family was in town, which made it all the better. I was able to have some time off Wednesday through Friday so we could enjoy all the great activities Montana has to offer. Wednesday we did a hike to Mission Falls, which offered great views of some steep cascading water falls and introduced three of the five of us to the horrible combination of bear deterrent and eyeballs. My idiot brothers decided to "test" the bear spray while hiking ON THE TRAIL forty or so yards ahead of my dad, mom and myself. As I entered the thick cloud of pepper-esque poison, it felt like I had stepped into an invisible fire that burned every orphus while sucking all of the oxygen from the air. It burned inside and out, and I really thought I would never see again. As I flushed my eyes with our remaining water, I shouted in agony, "Todd, did you just spray the bear spray?!?!" That's when we heard the 16-year-old's typical response... "No... why?"

After some huckleberry shakes and buffalo burgers, we drove through the National Bison Range and watched the burly beasts roam (somewhat freely). We saw elk, antelope, deer, big horn sheep, birds of all shapes and sizes, but the highlight of the whole trip was an impressive set of antlers we believe belonged to a massive elk hidden in the trees. Thursday, we went to Glacier and while most of the day involved the three Bronsdon kids crammed in the back seats of the rental car (don't ever by a Suzuki SUV if you plan to sit three across the back seat), the trip was worth it and Glacier showed us all of its splendor.

The morning ride up going to the sun was through a deep fog and we could only see pieces of the magnificent peaks through the mist. However, after lunch at the Many Glacier Hotel, the skies opened up and our hike among the steep rock walls and wildflowers to Iceberg Lake was perfcet. Except, we unfortunately, never made it to the lake. A family of grizzly bears had been skirting the trail for most of the day, and of course, the ranger decided to close it to hikers 10 minutes before we were to reach the frozen glacial lake, which had just begun to break apart. Todd was so pissed that he didn't get a peak at the bears, that he power-hiked the 4.75 miles back to the car in a huff as the rest of us scurried to keep up.

Friday, though, probably wins for the most exciting and entertaining afternoon. We went rafting with Caroline, Ronan and Kase as our guide. While the river was relatively low (14,000 cfs compared to the 43,000 cfs we ran in June), the hits were huge! The second wave of Buffalo Rapid tossed us so well that both my dad and Ronan were hanging off the edge of the boat, Todd had fallen across Scott's lap, I launched over my mom (who was in the middle) and almost went out the other side of the boat until Caroline grabbed me and dragged me back in. It was terrifying, of course, but a whole lot of fun for everyone. Then we were able to dive off and swim along side the boats for the last few miles.

The weekend was more low-key... after a fun road ride out to King's Point with my dad and the usual crew, we went swimming on the lake and saw and Batman Saturday night. Sunday, after a long ride with my dad, Jon and Sean, we spent most of the day cruising around the lake and down the river with Laurie, Melissa and Chris. I made public my apparent fear of rope swinging. So I'm not as tough as people at work think I am... that fact had to come out eventually.

All-in-all, a great, but exhausting week.

Glacier Challenge and a visit to "the Bob"

2008-07-21T20:40:00.006-04:00

Not a whole lot has been happening as of late. A combination of lingering injuries and a busy summer schedule has prevented me from really getting back into the swing of training. We're extremely short-staffed at the paper, so I feel like I've been going non-stop since returning home from Primal Quest almost 3 weeks ago. It's been frustrating, for sure, but probably a good thing in the long run.

I'm just hoping the two muscle tears (right calf and hamstring) and my swollen right ankle will heal by August so I can start to ramp it up again. Turns out I will be heading to Georgia in November to race with Brent and Chris at USARA Nationals!!! Super excited about that, since last year's race left me with a terrible taste in my mouth.

Ok, so what has been going on?

The Glacier Challenge! Woo hoo for fun, no pressure RELAY adventure races with friends! I had a blast two Saturdays ago racing with Heather and Caroline (as well as Kobi, Dani, Jennie and Sarah). This 50 mile race took place in Whitefish and was something along the lines of a 7-mi run, 2-mi kayak, 20-mi road bike, 9-mi mountain bike, 10-mi road bike, 7-mi canoe and 4-mi run (next year, race-permitting, I want to try solo). I had the mountain bike leg, which for some reason, Heather's team has never been able to complete without getting lost. Dispite my only goal being not to get lost, this year would be no different.

The trails around Whitefish are just amazing! Well, they reminded me a lot of White Clay, but rockier and with more ups and downs... all single track... and with my Kenda Karmas, I was freakin flying like I have never flown on single track before. I'm getting butterflies just thinking about how much fun it was. But apparently, I was having too much fun because I missed a turn (IT WASN'T MARKED!) and ended up cutting the course short by about 2.5 miles. My team was thrilled I had done so well, but I knew right away something was wrong. So, I talked to the timers and they allowed me to race the loop again and said they would count the second time and we would still be legit (which they didn't do, jerks).

If nothing else, it was a chance for some more time on the trails and I was thankful for it. After the 10 mile road ride back to the starting area, I had logged 30+ miles for the day, so not bad considering I was still hobbling a lot at that point in my recovery. Plus, it was my first taste of mountain bike racing and I loved it! Talk about the ultimate pursuit! Hopefully, if things calm down at work, I can get up to Whitefish for their summer series.

Since then, I've done a 41-mi road ride, 1-mi swim and 22-mi hike in the Scapegoat section of the Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex. YES! I HIKED! AND IT WAS SWEET! So, I guess I didn't hold true to my frequently repeated vow of "I am never going hiking again" afterall.

Now, I'm trying to clean up the apt and get some activities planned for my family who is arriving tomorrow! All four of them =)

Can't wait to finally get to Glacier this summer!!!!!

PQ riverboarding photos!

2008-07-14T01:09:00.006-04:00

Jeremy and I...

Bruce and Jon...

Someone (not Jon) and one of many boards that got away...

Photos by Craig Stein

PQ race report (not mine)

2008-07-14T00:16:00.002-04:00

Reading this guys PQ post stresses me out. He brings all the horrible details I've since blocked from memory to life. Of course our team's experience was unique in many ways, but if you want a juicy recap, this is a fun read with some sweet photos and videos too.

http://eaglinar.blogspot.com/2008/07/primal-quest-2008-race.html

And I absolutely love every one of these lines as if I had written them myself:

... And then the river got angry.
... Like all the other treks – it was impossibly long.
... Every step downhill was agony.
... We went back and forth through switchbacks that would simply not end.
... The descent was well beyond my abilities ... one of the most frightening, challenging, and exhilarating down hills I have ever ridden.
... Yes it was as high and scary as it looks.
... There is really not too much I want to say about this section.
... After so much pain and suffering – sprinkled with euphoria, joy, fear, adrenaline, and emotion it was nice to see the finish line.

Kuhlen is tough, and also 'crazy'

2008-07-13T23:32:00.003-04:00

By ANDY THOMPSON
TIMES-DISPATCH COLUMNIST

The hypothetical votes are in and have been tallied. The results, unofficial as they are, are just as the initial polling suggested: Jeremy Kuhlen is officially the "toughest man in Richmond." Interestingly, he also received a few write-in votes for "craziest man in Richmond."

How did he make his case to the voters? The local financial planner recently completed America's toughest adventure race - Primal Quest, held this year in Montana's backcountry. Kuhlen's team, Goals ARA, finished 12th, eight days after they started, out of more than 50 teams that began the race.

The numbers are staggering: Finishers had to trek, mountain bike, paddle, riverboard, kayak and rock climb 550 miles. They gained and lost 100,000 feet of elevation. Kuhlen lost 15 pounds in the eight days. He and his teammates did all this while sleeping a total of maybe 20-25 hours.

It seems the voters have the right man.

Now back in Richmond, Kuhlen took the time to fill me in on the race that bills itself as the "World's Most Challenging Human Endurance Competition."

Q. You spent eight days and nights in Big Sky country. Any good wildlife sightings?

A. One team saw four black bears and a grizzly. We didn't see any, but we saw tons of tracks, lots of bear tracks and mountain lion tracks. Huge tracks. Bigger than your hand . . . We also saw tons of moose, elk, deer. At every turn it was like living National Geographic.

Q. These racecourses are always subject to change based on weather. Did Mother Nature cooperate?

A. They had to eliminate an 80-mile flatwater paddle on the Yellowstone River. So that basically turned the whole thing into a trekking and biking type of course. We were on our feet so much - over 200 plus miles on our feet. The total [distance] was 550 miles, and only 35 were on water.

Q. They eliminated the paddle section because the water was too high?

A. The Gallatin and Yellowstone rivers were where the water sections were and they were both at flood levels [from snow melt]. I think I heard they were the highest they've been since 1940. It was intense. They were just raging.

Q. Was that the scariest part of the race?

A. You had to be on your game [on the rivers] . . . but the [climbing] section was pretty nuts. It was 1,200 feet long. You were on these thin rock spires just trying to navigate around these while it's pitch black at midnight. It took us six to eight hours to finish the ropes section. Wiped out, no water, on the rock face.

Q. You raced Primal Quest in Utah two years ago and have completed other expedition-length races. Was this one the most difficult?

A. It was the hardest one I've done to date just because of the remoteness and the challenging nature of really the Montana landscape. The mountains were gigantic, the rivers were raging, the scree fields, the snowfields. The diversity of terrain was pretty amazing.

There were plenty of moments where you're out there thinking, "What am I doing out here?" This course was the most remote challenging course that I've been on just in terms of being in the backcountry, the weather conditions we experienced and just the terrain of Montana.

Q. When you tell people about this race, how many think you're crazy?

A. [Adventure racing] is really just to see how far you can push yourself. There are different types of people in the world. They do triathlons or mountain bike races or whatever to see how far they can push their bodies. For some people, that's what gets them going. They like the adrenalin and what that does for you.

You might not have enjoyed it during the race, but when you look back and you say, 'Man I just did this eight-day race that was 500-plus miles.' . . . that's a pretty good accomplishment and makes you feel good about yourself. In one of these races, you kind of go through all the emotions that someone would experience in a year or maybe even a lifetime."

Home Sweet Home

2008-07-07T17:25:00.003-04:00

My toes are still numb; my right ankle still swollen. I have remnants of blisters the size of silver dollars crusted over my heels and in between my toes. Six days after crossing the finish line at Primal Quest Montana and I think I am finally ready to write about the experience. Perhaps that readiness has been expediated by the threat of a rapidly approaching deadline and my fire-breathing editor hovering over my shoulders (just kidding, Danielle), but regardless, it is time to put the pain, discomfort and utter insanity that was my life for eight days on paper — I just wish I knew where to begin.

Anyone who followed the 548-mile expedition online could probably tell you more about the race as a whole than I can. The PQ staff provided great coverage throughout the entire event and an interactive Google Earth map displayed each team’s GPS location in real time 24-hours a day. As far as the gory dramas of other teams and the battle for prize money at the top of the field goes, I am still catching up.

The hours between 10:05 a.m. Monday, June 23 and 5:37 a.m. Tuesday, July 1 are literally a blur in my memory bank. I can recall some highlights, however. Like crying uncontrollably for the last three miles of every trekking section, accepting my inevitable death during the 30-or-so seconds when I was held underwater by a swirling hydraulic after hitting the giant hole during the class IV riverboarding section and the overpowering feeling of relief when we reached the finish and it was all finally over.

If my attitude seems somewhat of the negative persuasion, I apologize. Give it a few more weeks and I may be able to focus on the positives: The incredible 360-degree view from the top of 11,138 feet Lone Peak Mountain after roughly two hours of meticulous fast-paced marching along an exposed snowy ridge; or the heart-pounding white water kayaking section down a flooded Gallatin River that apparently hasn’t seen water levels as high as they were on that day since the 1940s. Even the local hot-shot play-boaters were reduced to spectators under the river’s ferocity.

I will never forget the swarm of butterflies in my stomach that I hoped would not be asked to fly me to safety as I scrambled down a Crazy Mountain scree slope/snow field checkerboard in the pitch black of night. I still can’t believe I scaled more than 1,200 vertical feet of rock under a setting sun only to reach the final obstacle in the dark — traversing a few hundred yards of a razor-sharp “fin” — narrow boulders propped up against the wind with only a hand line to guide me back to solid earth.

Amazingly, a week littered with “firsts” contained an awful lot of the same. In reality, the “Primal Quest” was more of a “Primal Trek” and I would estimate more than half of the miles and certainly at least two-thirds of the hours were spent on battered and bloated feet.

And at its heart, Primal Quest is not about the cheap thrills that come with doing stupid and extremely dangerous things under the illusive cloak of an organized event. What racers experience in the final miles of those 70-mile treks when they are hungry, with feet pounding, eyelids plastered shut and legs throbbing with each forced step — it can’t be appreciated second-hand. I couldn’t do the treachery a just description. In those final miles, the will it takes to keep the team moving forward — which is the only goal — requires an entirely new kind of strength. Just to finish. To reach the end. And then, to take a 3-hour nap and do it all again.

My favorite quote from one of the guest speakers at the awards ceremony (in a somewhat butchered form) says, “Enlightenment is not found in a warm bed or on a full stomach.” What enlightenment actually means, I am not sure I am qualified to say, but, I do know that during those impossible hours, when your body tells you it’s not going to go one more step and your teammates’ shadowy figures are inching even further out of sight, the pain subsides and a clarity is reached.

Those who find success at the end of such a long road do so with a higher purpose. I raced for my dad who last year was diagnosed with Acute Melanoma Leukemia and underwent five months of chemotherapy. His feet were about four times as swollen as mine at their worst when he entered the hospital on April 20, 2007. He never complained. Never showed weakness. Not once. And as far as we know, he beat it. It’s gone.

I raced for my dad, my hero, because if his adventurous spirit could spend the better part of a year confined to a bed, I could certainly handle a few miles in the beautiful Montana landscape. To listen to him tell me how many sleepless nights he spent checking the website to watch our team’s little box move further along the course, and then to hear him say how proud he was after I finished the race, well, that made every mile worth it.

PQ: P3

2008-06-16T19:36:00.005-04:00

Lake County never ceases to amaze me. The instant my little silver pick-up reached the crest of that big hill on Highway 93 and began descending into the Mission Valley for the first time, I knew there was something magical about this place.

However, to say I expected to fall in love with this town, its spectacular mountains, placid lake and roaring waters would be a stretch. I did not have a clue what to expect. I knew no one. I knew nothing about life in rural Montana. I came to Polson to work for the Leader and I arrived less than two weeks after accepting the job. Sure, I was nervous, but despite the frenzied move and expensive 2,400-mile drive out west… what did I have to lose?

Three months later, I found myself face-to-face with another big decision. When Bruce asked me to join his Primal Quest team, I knew I was in for an incredibly stressful three weeks and I would probably end up spending a couple thousand dollars before all was said and done, but besides a little stress and a few paper bills… what did I have to lose?

After all…

"The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun," as written by Chris McCandless in an excerpt from “Into the Wild.”

If adventure racing has taught me one thing, it is that no matter how well prepared you think you are going in to an event, always expect the unexpected.

Last Tuesday, just as the organized chaos surrounding my three-week preparation for Primal Quest Montana started to come together, Mother Nature threw a ferocious curve ball by deciding to dump multiple inches of snow onto the northwest United States. Thus, the already overdue arrival of summer was again pushed back, leaving the peaks surrounding Big Sky buried in about 10 feet of a spontaneous assortment of heavy and wet, but sometimes soft, yet, icy snow — or so I hear.

Apparently, it is so bad in the higher elevations that PQ race management has decided to permit the use of the one thing that will cause any true adventure racer will scoff.

The very combination of the letters “G”, “P” and “S” call to mind caravans of “treasure hunters” with their heads in their hands, following the blinking arrow on that tiny screen, never paying mind to the contour of the land or the subtle navigational hints that make the sport of orienteering so rewarding and so much fun.

In a letter to team captains, race management said, “This decision was made due to the fact that the course still has a great deal of snow covering trail and road markings, and we need to ensure that competitors do not wander into avalanche and cornice hazard areas.”

Alas, the sport is changing. Never before has a race of this magnitude permitted the use of electronic navigation, except as an emergency back up, which if used, would render a team “unofficial.”

For me, this race is about reaching the finish line, officially ranked and as a four-person, co-ed team — just as we began, albeit a bit more tired.

My first ever adventure race was in April of 2006. It lasted six hours. We did not complete the course. In fact, we were so lost three hours into the 20-mile race that we knocked on the door of an old farm house to ask directions back to the park we had somehow abandon. Even though it was an overwhelming disaster, I knew I would race again.

This time, I am racing with experience. Between the three of them, my teammates have completed numerous expedition-length adventure races, Ironman triathlons, 24-hour solo mountain bike races and almost any other ultra-endurance event out there.

It is difficult to predict how the late season snow and the decision to allow GPS units will affect the field (and my team in particular). Regardless, the race is “on” and I am as ready as I will ever be to tackle the elements, the endless miles, the steep slopes, the rushing waters and the dark, unforgiving nights in the wild.

Thank you to everyone who has volunteered his or her knowledge, time and personal gear to my cause! When I step to the starting line on Monday morning, it will be with the support of an entire community and I will do my best to make Lake County proud.

If you wish to follow my team, No. 82 Goals ARA, you can track us in real time online at http://www.ecoprimalquest.com/wp-primal/pq/; click “Leaderboard and Tracking.”

PQ: P2

2008-06-09T16:10:00.001-04:00

It’s four p.m. Thursday, June 5 and I am hanging 200 feet from a cliff along North Crow Creek in the Mission Mountains. Not a typical afternoon for me, a “wanna-be” adventurer who is undeniably afraid of heights, I am learning to ascend in preparation for Primal Quest: Montana (a 500-plus-mile adventure race in Big Sky beginning on June 23).

To compete in PQ, competitors must demonstrate their competence in rock climbing and fixed ropes, paddling, navigation and swimming. The last time I tested my fear of heights was last November at Seneca Rocks in West Virginia. I looked down the 400-foot wall just once in the entire outing. Back then; keeping my eyes glued to the cold rock was all I could do to hold back the tears. Now, the reality of this epic race enables me to focus on mastering the skills I will need to complete it.

Tied to a pine tree another 60-or-so feet above, my life dangles by two small rings of rope bound with prusik knots around the main stretch. The smaller top loop is clipped to my harness while the other, longer one tied just beneath it, is wrapped around my right foot.

When I sit back in my harness, my weight stops the top knot from sliding down the rope and I am able to scoot up my foot loop. When I step up onto the foot strap, it un-weights the top rope, and I am able to slide that one further up the line. Eventually, after many repetitions of stepping and scooting these two knots up the rope, I will reach the edge of the cliff – my ultimate destination.

Surprisingly, I feel safe.

My guide and instructor for today’s training trip is Ken Cornelius, a self-taught expert in the field of rescue rope techniques. An indisputable “King of the Mountains,” Ken’s ski buddies gave him the nickname “Yukon Cornelius” for a reason. A lifelong Ronan resident, he solo hiked the entire range — from Hellroaring to McDonald Lake — multiple times and has reached the summit of nearly every peak on either foot or skis. As lead coordinator for Lake County Search and Rescue, Ken orchestrated numerous rescues including a helicopter landing in a perilous mountain crevasse through a dense fog.

While I won’t be using this exact technique during PQ, it is a perfect way to practice (as well as get a feel for the inevitable muscle burn). I am incredibly appreciative of Ken’s willingness to take me out on such a chilly, overcast day.

When we broke trail to get to the cliff, I received my first-ever introduction to a scree slope. Shards of rock littered the base of the mountain and while I thought going up was a challenge, it was nothing compared to the trip back down. In an effort to keep pace with Ken’s nimble descent, I managed to bloody up my arm during a not-so-elegant barrel roll I unintentionally performed when I lost my balance on a loose boulder.

I realized right away that the fall could have been disastrous — a twisted ankle, knee or face-plant would have left me injured or unable to race at all. It was just another reminder about the importance of respecting the terrain. There is no room for arrogance in the wilderness.

With just over two weeks until the start of Primal Quest 2008, I am still filled with uncertainties. If it’s hard now, how will I ever cross this terrain after covering hundreds of miles over seemingly endless days without sleep? How will I find the strength to pull my exhausted body up hundreds of feet of rope in that state? What happens if I do twist an ankle, or blow a knee before I am even given the chance to try?

Since there are never answers to the “hows” and “what ifs,” I guess all I can do is step up to the starting line as prepared as possible — ready to trust my teammates and take a chance on myself.

PQ Intro

2008-06-07T22:04:00.005-04:00

Well, the blog pretty much died in the past week, but I am writing a series for the Lake County Leader and I thought it may be a good update.

It's 3:39 a.m. Thursday, May 29. I glance around my dimly-lit room and out the window into the empty yellow glow of the Polson streets. Ugh.

My mind has been racing non-stop since 7 a.m. Wednesday when I woke to my cell phone buzzing relentlessly in my left ear. First instinct — it's Laurie calling to wake me up because there was an accident somewhere on Highway 93. My rusty "hello" initiated the soft voice of my friend Bruce, an experienced expedition adventure racer who I raced with last fall when I lived in Philadelphia and participated in 20 to 50 mile (six to 24-hour) adventure races. I immediately felt my heart skip a beat.

A man of few words and only the important ones, Bruce said, "Hey Ali, how are you? Uh, how would you like to race Primal Quest with us?"

"Pffff," I spat as my heart immediately sunk about a foot into my gut. "You must be joking, right?"

He wasn't. Apparently, his team's mandatory female competitor had just "called out sick" and the team was in a real bind, needing to find a replacement girl, or not race.

Primal Quest is the Superbowl of my sport. Since Mark Burnett first put expedition adventure racing onto the international stage with his production, Eco Challenge in 1995, ultra-endurance events have been steadily gaining in popularity. Primal Quest was born after Burnett stopped directing Eco Challenge to concentrate time and money into his new hit reality TV show, Survivor.

A 500-plus-mile race through the wilderness surrounding Big Sky, Primal Quest 2008 is not the kind of race you sign on to do just one month in advance. In fact, it's not the kind of race you sign up for at all — unless you suffer from a severe lack of sanity, or have nothing else to do with the roughly $3,100 per person it costs just to enter.

Adventure racing attracts a special breed. We like to run, bike, kayak, climb and swim. A general hodgepodge of indecision, an adventure race incorporates all and more of those disciplines, but in no particular order or standard distance for each.

An adventure race is a journey from point "A" to point "B" on a map, over and over again until all points are gathered, or as many as can be found in the allotted time. Co-ed teams of four must navigate their way over mountains, through deep brush, across rivers — day and night — non-stop, while carrying all food, water and gear necessary to complete the required leg in backpacks often weighing more than 30 pounds.

Race directors have complete liberty when they design a course. They must provide a safe and enjoyable experience for racers, but they must do so within the limits of their locale. For example, most races include some sort of boating, but whether it's whitewater rafting or sea-kayaking is dependent on where in the world the race takes place. Nobody marks the course with spray paint or lines of chalk and racers are often more likely to encounter wild animals than event staff or cheering spectators while en-route.

No, adventure racing is not a sport for the weak of body or mind— and Primal Quest is no exception.

The details of this year's course will be kept secret until the night before when racers receive their race packets, maps and a list of UTM coordinates to plot. However, race management has been kind enough to divulge a few secrets— "500 miles of travel over very arduous terrain, and 100,000 vertical feet of elevation gain" a letter to racers states.

"In Primal Quest Montana you can expect to climb over 100,000 feet (Everest x 3), you will paddle and swim in big white water and you will perform world-class mountain navigation. The pain and the suffering you will encounter will be made even more rewarding by the never-ending 360 degree vistas of absolutely beautiful, rugged and remote terrain."

During the 10 days it took to initially plan the route, course designers said they had some very unique experiences.

"We followed mountain goats for miles across a knife-edged ridge line; watched an eagle catch a fish in his talons; saw mountain lion tracks in the snow just as the sun was setting; viewed a moose walking just a stone throw away and not giving us a second glance; and observed grizzly bear warning signs at every trail head," another letter states. "This course will require each team to pull together all of its collective resources to successfully reach the finish line."

Registration for the event sold out in less than one hour's time on July 1, 2007 when it opened online at midnight. Racers (or their sponsors) shelled out thousands for entry fees, hundreds more in plane tickets, support vehicle rentals, pre and post race lodging as well as food and the endless pages of mandatory gear required to compete. Not only do racers need to be dumb enough to sign up, but they must be smart enough and knowledgeable enough in the aforementioned disciplines to pass strict certifications of ability.

So, it's now 4:39 a.m. and my mind is — quite understandably — still racing.

I check the PQ website for the 395th time today and watch the seconds tick by... 23 days, six hours, 17 minutes and 53... 52... 51... seconds till my epic journey begins.

Stay tuned.

Cinderelley-Cinderelley!

2008-05-23T01:59:00.002-04:00

I reeeeeally wanted to post a good entry tonight, but I am just so ready for bed, it's going to have to be short. Sorry (or maybe, you're welcome?) to anyone who actually checks this thing =)

Quickly, I dog-sat all week for Caroline who went home to NH to visit her family. So, Sula woke me up at 4 am every morning until I learned to tell her to shut up and go back to bed, which she graciously did... until 5 am. So, lots of morning running (something new for me!) and lots of long hours at the office because I didn't know what else to do. 15 hours of overtime! Big money!!!

Saturday, ran the Jette trails with Heather in the morning and then later that afternoon, saw a bear in the same spot while mountain biking with a few of the guys. They, of course, didn't see it (because I had already scared it away!) and keep joking that it was a phantom bear. NOT TRUE. So, now I really know not to run in Jette by myself, which sucks, because it's one of my favorite places to run and I don't have many people to go with -- certainly not anyone who will go for 2-3 hours.

Sunday, Katie and I took the canoe out for a quick spin on the lake. It was gorgeous... right at sunset. What was really awesome is that we paddled out, but didn't have to paddle back because the wind was so strong it brought us right back to the beach. I reeeeally need to start paddling again, but first, Montana needs to warm up.

Yesterday, wasn't allowed in the office because I was a work-a-holic last week. So, I went for what was supposed to be a 2-hr run, but because I am a horrible judge of distance on the huge maps I have, ended up being just about 3 hours and roughly 18 miles long. I deliberately ran the route of the most hills I could find. Yea, that didn't make for a fun run back, but at least it was mostly down. Then, I met up with Heather, Erica Caroline and Katie for about 34 miles of road biking. My legs were toast, so I curled up under my covers and watched a movie... ah, the good life.

Here's this week's totals:

M - Bike 25 mi (1:30)
T - Off
W - Bike 20 mi (1:30)
R - Run 6 mi (:53) / Bike 38 mi (2:30)
F - Bike 34 mi, Time Trial (35:08)
S - Trail Run 11 mi-ish (1:33) / MTB 13 mi (2 hr)
S - Paddle (:30)

Totals: Run 17 mi (2:26) / Bike 130 mi (10 hr) / Paddle (:30) / Work (55:00)

Pattee Canyon, Charity Ride and Too little, too late

2008-05-12T01:49:00.005-04:00

I left work at noon on Friday to talk to a Native American flute-maker in Arlee for a story, but he had to cancel at the last minute. Lucky for me (kind of) because it gave me an entirely free afternoon to spend in Missoula.

So, I went for a trail run up, up and up in the Pattee Canyon area. I ended up following a fire road way out of the park to the top of one of many inviting peaks. The views were incredible the whole way and I found some awesome single track at the top, but the sun was blazing hot, so I was happy to finally head down and find cover under the trees. Then, I got a little lost in the maze of trails we avoided at the Grizzly Man adventure race. This actually made me super happy because I can finally say with confidence that we made a good decision to run the road to the bike transition area. The route we would have taken on trail was confusing and hilly to boot.

Saturday, Caroline, Katie, Birch and I did a 50-mile ride for the Watson Shelter in Missoula. It was a nice, but COLD morning and we all (stupidly) dressed for 70 and sunny... never listen to the weatherman. The roads we rode (from Missoula to Frenchtown and back) were silky smooth... what a nice change from Polson =). We took our time and rode relaxed except for the last 10 or so miles when Caroline and I decided to pick up the pace to the finish. We were actually pretty speedy... 25+ mph on the flat sections.

After spending most of today feeling useless and unproductive, I went for a sweet run at dusk along some hidden dirt roads between the hills behind Polson. It was exactly what I needed... just wish I had gone earlier in the day so I could have been a little more motivated to start chipping away at my growing "To Do" list.

Sometimes I wonder if running/biking, etc. has become too much of a priority (bordering addiction) of mine. I was such a grump all day long because I felt stressed, but yet, I wasn't doing anything to help the situation until I finally stopped staring at my computer screen and laced up the Asics. As soon as my feet hit the pavement, I was ok again. Able to breathe; able to think clearly; having fun.

This week was interesting as far as training is concerned. I guess I put in some decent mileage, but it was essentially all recovery-paced... either at night (where I go slower and watch my footing on these crappy gravel/pot-hole infested roads) or with a group. I missed the Monday night ride, which is usually my main tempo work on the bike. However, I am completely ok with that because the Wilco concert was a good time. Plus, I think my legs needed an easier week and I am looking forward to riding hard tomorrow night and hopefully recording another solid time trial on Friday.

M - Off
T - Run 9 mi (1:20)
W - Run 3.5 mi (:30) / Bike 14 mi (1 hr)
R - Bike 25 mi (1:30)
F - Run 10-ish (1:40)
S - Bike 50 mi (3 hr)
S - Run 6 mi (:52)

Totals: Run 28.5 mi (4:22) / Bike 89 mi (5:30)

Tuesday night and tired legs

2008-05-07T23:37:00.001-04:00

I decided to go for a run Tuesday night when I finally got home at about 9:30 pm. I haddn't planned to go far, just a quick loop around the high school and back, but once I left my house, I changed my mind. I've always loved running at night, especially after a long day. There's just something about being surrounded in darkness, breathing in the cool night air under a starry sky that is just so... liberating?

So, I headed up Skyline Drive, the long hill leading out of town. I felt ok, just a little tired and my calves were tight from standing at the concert all night. Anyways, I climbed for about 20 minutes until the flickering lights of town disappeared over the hill and I began to decend into the dark, lonely fields behind Polson. I eventually met up with a dirt trail along the canal, which I had never been on, but assumed would take me to a bike path and I could loop back into town. I realized after about 15 minutes on the trail that it was going to be a little while until I made it home. And, it was kinda creepy out there... so dark... so quiet. I freaked myself out a few times when my headlamp glazed over cats hiding in the bushes and I even came face-to-face with a friendly skunk. Friendly because he didn't spray me even though I was just a few feet away. I settled into a good pace and let the soothing music of my iPod lead me home.

I woke up for my Wednesday morning run feeling like I had been hit by a truck. Still, I managed a nice 30-minute recovery run before heading off to work. Unfortunately, the Wednesday night women's ride ended up being even shorter than usual, only 14 miles. So, all in all, it wasn't a very productive day, but recovery is important too and I think if nothing else, my legs should feel better tomorrow and I can start catching up on milage for this week.

We did have a pretty awesome bike maintenance and simple repair class at Matt's bike shop tonight after the ride. He went over all the different parts of the bike, took stuff apart and showed us some minor adjustments we could make to our brakes, shifters and cables if we needed. Plus, he gave us some good tips for cleaning and keeping things clean as well as a quick tutorial for changing a flat. It was neat to see so many women show up (maybe it was the promise of wine and chocolate that did it?) Hopefully we have more come out for the ride on Wednesday nights as well.

87 miles and a powwow

2008-05-06T23:27:00.000-04:00

Friday was a stellar day weather-wise, which apparently had a direct effect on our performances at the time trial Friday night. It was warm, sunny and only a tad-bit windy (for the first time, I think... ever!) We had a record number of 24 riders at the start of the time trial and every single person crossed the line with a season, or in many cases, lifetime best performance. I did the 20k loop in 34:35, a best by 6 minutes from my previous time trial about a month ago. I rode hard up the hill and it still felt great to hammer the final 4-mile stretch to the finish-- maxed out spinning my biggest gear and tucked into as aerodynamic a position as I could find.

Somehow, in the excitement of a fast and furious evening, I agreed to do a long ride with John the next day. He said maybe 60, maybe 80... either way, I have been wanting to increase milage on the bike and get some quality time in the saddle, so, I was in. Stocked with a wide selection of PowerGels, Clif Bars and and Shot Blocks, Caroline and I set out early on Saturday morning to meet John and do a 120 mile loop, in reverse, with the intention of meeting up and turning around with our ironman friends who were doing the whole shabang.

Cruising along at a good clip (slightly downhill), we rode the first 30 miles with little effort on nice roads along wide open fields, spotting all kinds of birds and even a coyote. Well, 45 miles into the ride, we still had still not run into our friends. Caroline and I were a little concerned with doing too much too soon since we had a hard ride on Friday and neither of us had gone much over 50 miles ever before. Plus, the ride back would be mostly uphill and straight into the wind. Despite John insisting that we'd definitely see them in another 4 miles, we turned back and managed to ride rather quickly and comfortably back to Polson, recording an 87-mile, 5+ hour adventure.

After a home-made pita pizza lunch, I passed out on a pile of pillows on Caroline's floor with Sula by my side. Then, the two of us went to our first Native American powwow. It was really cool! The drumming was intense and the hand-made outfits (not costumes!) were absolutely incredible.
Sunday we did a short, easy ride to shake out the legs, which felt surprisingly good. Here are totals for the week:

M - Bike 43 mi (2:15)
T - Off
W - Run 11 mi (1:32) / Bike 25 mi (1:40)
R - Off
F - Bike 30 mi (2:30) / Time Trial (34:35)
S - Bike 87 mi (5:27)
S - Bike 22 mi (1:35)

Total: Run 11 mi (1:32) / Bike 207 mi (13:29)

Positives... rode my first 200+ mile week ever. Negatives... only ran once. I've got to work on running earlier in the week and doubling Wednesdays (so far, so good) and Sundays (if possible). A Lake County candidate forum on Thursday night hurt because I usually run a few miles in the evening and was just too drained to after listening to politicians spout empty promises all night.

OH. I saw Wilco in Missoula last night. BEST SHOW ever. They played their hearts out in THREE encores for us. It was amazing and totally worth the stress of driving to Missoula on a Monday night and speeding back up for a long Tuesday at the office. Jeff Tweedy did a hilarious impression of the 67-year-old lady who apparently left him in the dust while walking up the trail up to the 'M' earlier that day... the same mountain we climbed in the Grizzly Man race. If you ever get the chance to see them live, GO.

Fallen off the face of the Earth...

2008-05-01T22:27:00.005-04:00

Let's see... last Thursday...

Well, Friday I battled fierce cross-winds on a quick solo ride, then went to the Flathead Brewery (finally!) for a few beers with the girls. Saturday, Caroline, Katie and I decided to crank out a long ride before the Speedwagon Classic at noon. I was planning on racing the SC up until Friday night when the girls proposed doing a serious ride minus the deep gravel sections of the SC course and I caved... if I had a cross bike, I would have stood strong and represented the Polson women, but seeing as I have both a beefy all-mountain monster and a twiggy little roadie speedster and nothing in between, I think it was a good choice. It was the PERFECT morning for a PERFECT ride to Round Butte in Ronan, across Hwy 93 to Pablo and back into town. It was actually my longest ride (not in a race) ever. I've done plenty of 40+ mile rides, but this was my first time hitting the 5-0 barrier. It helps having a road bike to accumulate those miles. Some of my 30+ mile MTB rides have been a lot more painful, but it's still cool and I know that the number will only get bigger this summer!

Cruising back into town, it was 11 am and we still had the whole day in front of us. That has got to be one of the best feelings in the world.

The first-annual Speedwagon Classic was a huge success. I rode in the front vehicle and snapped photos of the riders as they soared over the pavement and struggled to stay upright on the nasty gravel sections. Many of the roadies suffered multiple flat tires. The smartest guy actually stashed his mountain bike along the course to avoid having to ride the skinny tires through the rocks. It was the perfect day and perfect place to ride your bike. After the race, we all headed to a barbecue/bonfire at the Seeley's and wrapped up the night with a movie at Caroline's. This isn't the best photo from the day, but it's the best view:

Sunday was the day I've been waiting for since moving to Montana. Caroline and I drove down to Missoula to meet some of her friends and go rock climbing at Kootenai Creek Canyon south of Missoula. I love rock climbing... especially outside. I wish I was better at it... wish I had all the gear and knew how to tie all the silly knots that climbers use, but even with my limited experience and lack of finger strength and climbing conditioning, I had a freakin blast and would do that again ANY time. We had Mike and Eli lead climb three moderately difficult routes. They were actually way above my ability level, but somehow I scraped and clawed my way up all three. And I finally got a taste of crack climbing... super fun... Brent, Matt and Lunsford would be proud.

I chatted with Brent about the Yough Extreme, an always challenging 12-hr adventure race in Ohiopyle, PA that GOALS did on Saturday. It sounded like a pretty chaotic experience for everyone... and Abby, you kick ass! Way to stay tough.

Monday night ride... another awesome ride. I am really getting into the road mentality. Especially in a place as windy as Polson, you really have to use strategy to stay with the pack and I am making it a little bit further every week before I get dropped. I even led the way for a bit before the big hill and reached the top as the fourth rider overall!

Tuesday, I spent the morning interviewing and writing what was probably both the best and the worst assignment I've done since starting this job. I wrote about an ex-Polson resident who is currently living in Kenai, AK and recently was attacked by a bear while running on trails not more than 1/4 mile from his house. He survived, but only because he was able to stumble home so quickly. Talking to him really made me realize how stupid I am when I go running on the Jette trails by myself, with nothing but a water bottle and some Power Gels in tow. Bears in this area of the world are no joke and this is the time of year when they are hungry, agitated and protecting their cubs.

I actually talked to the inventor of pepper bear spray (who is from Polson!) and the owner of Counter Attack! who is in Kalispell and one of the foremost experts on the stuff in the world. They gave me a ton of good advice. #1- get some freakin bear spray and run with it. Trevor also gave me this advice a few weeks ago, but it takes a real foot to the ass to get me to spend money on something I'll probably never need to use. They also told me how to use bear spray effectively, which I will now relay to all you avid readers of my fascinating blog.

First of all, if the bear doesn't react to you right away, slowly back out of the situation. If she charges, spray a warning 1-second burst in her direction. Sometimes this will jolt her out of her tunnel vision attack mode. If she is 30-ft and charging, spray toward the ground (5-10 ft in front of her) so that it hits the ground and bellows up directly in her path. Since bears charge with their nose to the ground, if you spray straight ahead, she won't actually breathe it in. The goal is not to blind the bear. They don't use their vision like we do anyway. Finally, if she continues to charge, lay on the ground on your stomach and play dead. If she tries to roll you over, continue to roll back onto your stomach while covering your neck with your hands. It is worth noting that bears are more than capable of functioning in a cloud of pepper spray, but not to have anything is pure idiocy. Oftentimes the weird sound of the can and the visual effect of a plume of something foreign shooting at them will snap a bear out of attack mode and you will be able to get away. Do not run. Duh.

So, this Wednesday did not consist of my usual multi-hour trail run, much to my own dismay. But, I did get in 1:32 up Kerr Dam road. I was even motivated to run some striders on the soccer fields on my way back into town... something I haven't done since marathon training last spring, I think.

Last week tired me out a bit, so this week has been a bit of a recovery and get work done week as we expect to have a 40+ page paper to fill with our booming staff of 3 reporters... 2 if you don't count "the Trent" who pretty much single-handedly writes the entire sports section each week. As a "retired" sportswriter, that still amazes me.

Well, that's all for now, I think. Just sittin here chillin with Caroline's pups... Sula and Kiwi (black lab and dotson respectively). Sula is laying across my lap as I type and Kiwi is curled up at my feet. I am in heaven =)

Lovin Montana...

2008-04-24T00:08:00.000-04:00

"Big Sky Country, for adventure racing it doesn't get any finer. This course is an adventure racers delight. There is a rhythm to this race, not an inane toughness. Oh yes, you'll be challenged, we promise. But these routes will leave you grinning. To finish, your navigation will need to be spot-on, your team will need to be strong with plenty of stamina and your brains will have to be engaged to sort through the multiple route selections. Imagine moving through bold peaks over 10,000 feet high, over exposed ridges, down swift challenging single track all the while selecting routes from a myriad of trails and forest service roads. There will be miles of descent, but we all know that you have to earn those drops. So, expect some leg busting, lung searing climbs that seem to go on forever. There is a reward for this type of riding; the top and what awaits. You are going to find out why Montana is riders paradise." - from the MAR website.

So, this little blurb has me all sorts of excited to race the MAR in August and the serious training that is going to go into getting myself prepared this spring and summer.

After a kind of crappy attempt at a road ride on my mountain bike Sunday, this week's Monday night ride was awesome. I felt like a million bucks and I guess it showed, as the guys were all impressed to see me stick with the pack for almost the entire ride. The wind was brutal and I really had to focus to be able to read the pack and make sure I stayed with it when they started to take off. I even added an extra 20 miles to the regular ride- 12 with John and the rest on my own until I had sucked out every last minute of daylight.

The training calendar I drafted a few weeks ago said I needed to do a 2.5-hour run sometime this week and while I didn't feel much like running this morning when I woke to find it spitting rain and bitterly cold, I packed some extra gels and opted for the hydration pack instead of the water bottle- just in case I felt good once I started to run. I put on the Cascadias and headed out to the west side of the Jette trails. I could have gone all day. It was an amazing run through fat snowflakes at first and then a thick fog that forced me to follow my footprints home.

I am really impressed with the Cascadias so far. This run was my first real test as this side of Jette still has a lot of snow and plenty of rocky sections to get a good feel for the shoe. I thought they handled the rocky sections better than anything I've worn before. They're so light, I felt quick and my feet never felt cold or wet, despite being covered in snow or mud for most of the run. They are a wider shoe than I am used to, and perhaps, than I should wear given my narrow feet, but it hasn't been a problem with my Superfeet inserts and thicker socks, plus I use a different lacing system, which helps to secure the heel.

I was disappointed that we cancelled our Wednesday night ride due to a steady downpour all evening. I am hoping to make up for it with a 50+ mile ride tomorrow... as long as the weather holds out.

Playing catch up...

2008-04-23T22:35:00.003-04:00

So, I've been putting off writing the Grizzly Man race report... I am just a little bitter. Really, honestly, just a little...

At 4 p.m. Friday, I made a somewhat frantic decision to pack up and drive to Missoula to pick up the race maps and hopefully have some questions answered about the course. While I didn't find answers to my questions, it did give me the opportunity to get comfortable with the maps and plot a plan of attack w/Brent over the phone. Trevor rolled in around 9:30 with his awesome dog, Buddy. We talked as we laid out our gear and then called it a night. We had no idea what to expect as far as weather in the morning... they were calling for snow, but you never know in Montana.

It wasn't snowing, but it was cold when we left the hotel Saturday morning. However, by 10:30 when the race was finally getting underway, the sun was starting to peak through the clouds and we both opted to ditch our extra layers and go light. I was impressed with the energy at headquarters, but not so much the organization. The volunteers were all super nice and encouraging, but it was a little disconcerting how no one seemed to know what was going on. I guess the first sign that it just wasn't going to be our day was that we missed the bus to the transition area after sitting around for almost an hour waiting for it. So, we piled the bikes in the back of the pick-up and drove there ourselves... mostly on good faith as our directions were along the lines of, "I think you just turn left up there and you should see it about a mile down the road..."

We returned to the start area only to quickly find that the entire bike leg had been cancelled by the Forest Service. How this happens 30 minutes before a race, I have no idea, but the race directors re-routed the bike section (taking out all the single track and putting us on a flat, gravel bike path all the way home... woo hoo). They assured us that everything would be well marked and we would not need to worry about marking the new course on our maps. In fact, we couldn't because it wasn't even on them.

Before I knew it we were lined up behind the start watching as fleets of racers zigzagged through the first stage of the obstacle course, crawled under the second, hopped over the third and finally climbed up and over the cargo net draped loosely across a goal post and headed toward the hill. Almost immediately after the obstacle course, we found ourselves climbing Mt. Sentinel... a peak with about 2,000 ft. of elevation gain in just over 1 mile. Trevor and I hammered up this thing and passed most of the field before reaching the summit 43 minutes into our race.

After a few miles downhill, we came across the first of five orienteering points. I recognized the area from my scouting trip the week before and we easily found 'E', then ran down the trail to 'G' and here is where I draw a blank. From my recollection, we were focused, moving quickly to hit point after point. I definitely thought we were tearing it up. But, apparently, we punched 'H' in place of 'C' and it cost us. In adventure racing, the team with the most correct punches always beats the team with the fastest finish time, and so, we dropped way out of contention. Except, we didn't know it yet.

We rounded up the last two points and opted to run down to the road, which would lead to the bike transition area. This might not have been the shortest way to go, but I was worried about losing time navigating the mess of trails around the picnic area and we knew the road would take us there. We hopped on the bikes and cruised down some unmarked and rather twisted fire roads before dropping to the Kim Williams Trail and pedaling into a head-wind along the river for maybe 3 miles to the finish. We crossed the line as the first co-ed team (maybe even first team overall) in 2:13, but about 5 minutes later, a team who had started after us came in about 2 minutes faster and so, we were in 2nd place.

If we hadn’t screwed up CP 'C' we would have stayed there and qualified for USARA Nationals-- earning GOALS-ARA a handful of points in the USARA point series and a little western recognition. Bummer. Oh well. Live and learn.

I had a blast racing with Trevor and definitely hope we will be back at it again sometime soon if for no other reason than to redeem ourselves!

Where do I even start?

2008-04-21T22:22:00.000-04:00

Ok, so now I am straight up overwhelmed with the overwhelming amount of stuff I feel like I need to report after more than a few days of non-stop fun... or something like it.

Well, Wednesday ended up much better after a chill ladies ride where I shared my love of adventure racing with a freshman in high school who showed up to ride with us for the first time. She seemed really into it, so it made me happy just telling stories and got me more and more pumped for Saturday's race.

THE GRIZZLY MAN... dun dun duuuun.

Ok, it's Monday. I've spent all day pounding out stories and I was up at 7 a.m. taking photos, sooooo. I will return to this at a later time. Patience, my young grasshopper.

Whelmed?

2008-04-16T17:08:00.000-04:00

"I know you can be overwhelmed, and you can be underwelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?"
"I think you can in Europe."

... Lines from one of my favorite movies that kind of describe the odd state I am in right now. I am not really overwhelmed... I mean, I have a lot of work to do and some stuff to figure out for this weekend, but I am far from stressed out about it. I guess I am then leaning more toward the underwhelmed side of the spectrum... I just have no motivation to even attempt to accomplish anything today. Still, if being whelmed is, in fact, somewhere in between, I think that might be the best fit.

Today was just a bust--in every way. Even falling asleep last night (which was technically this morning) didn't go well. Then, I woke up early for an interview which didn't happen, tried to run out the tiredness in my legs, which didn't work, missed the entire event I was planning to photograph this afternoon and am now sitting here having tea and eating sweets from my Easter basket so I don't fall asleep. Finally, as I try to work on one of my 395 stories for this week, I somehow find myself writing this pointless blog entry instead. What is my deal!?

Maybe a ride tonight will kick me out of this funk... Although it's cold. And windy. And gray. And i need to suck it up and get out there! Grrrr!

The weekend that never ends... in a good way!

2008-04-14T23:09:00.000-04:00

If time flies when you're having fun, then I really don't know what happened this weekend because it seriously felt like I crammed about 6 days into one perfect duo of 70+ degree, sunny, blue-bird days in one of the most beautiful places on earth... ah... western Montana. I will try to keep this short for the sake of time and readers' attention spans (Erik), but as a Pennsylvanian who loves Pennsylvania, it has to be said... Montana kicks ass.

Saturday, I made a trip to Missoula for a recon mission around the area where this weekend's race should take place. The plan was to run up to the top of Mt. Sentinel for a quick look around, get a feel for the lay of the land, and then ride a larger loop... try to incorporate a few sections of trail to determine the technical difficulty, see if there was still snow-cover and try to match trail intersections to the crappy map I printed off the internet. How, then, did I ended up trekking through 2+ miles of soft, waist deep snow on the top of an exposed ridge with any hint of a trail buried 3 feet below me? Well, we can chalk that up to a mix of bad decision-making and straight-up stubbornness.

I really wanted to see if it was possible to cross the ridge in order to hit this second peak called University Beacon because adventure races always seem to have check-points at radio towers and the ridge seemed like the shortest distance with the least elevation gain. What I didn't count on was the mid-day sun softening the snow just enough to allow me 3 or 4 surface steps at a time before all of a sudden sinking knee, or sometimes, waist deep into the abyss. Once I was committed, though, there was no turning back. The worst part was that when I got to the top, I had no idea how to get back down to the mess of trails that were hidden somewhere below. So, I took Matt's trusty advice and followed telephone wires down to the road. It worked perfectly... once I hit tree cover, the snow disappeared and I could run on the remnant of a maintenance trail under the wires. Hopefully, it was an experience that will benefit our team this weekend. If they put a CP on the top of the Beacon, we're NOT crossing the ridge to get to it. So, my afternoon of run/bike turned into almost 5 hours of a grueling run/trudge and having taken only enough food and water for 2-3 hours max, after 5, I was too hungry and thirsty to even think about taking the bike for a spin.

Sunday, I finally did get on the mountain bike- for just under 32 miles on the Jette trails/fire roads. It was a weird mix of hard riding, lots of climbing and just spinning in my lowest gear because I met some friends who were out hiking for lunch and hung with them for an our or so right in the middle. But, all in all, it must have been a pretty exhausting day considering I went to bed at 8 p.m. and logged about 12 hours of sleep.

So, here's the week... a little fuzzy as far as mileage since Saturday and Friday's hikes are unknowns.

M - Bike, 25 mi (1:30)
T - Run, 7 mi, Jette trails (1:05)
W - Bike, 6 mi (:20)
R - Run, 5 mi (:42)
F - Hike, Mission Mountains (2 hrs)
S - Run/Hike, 15-18 mi (4:50)
S - Bike, 32 mi, Jette trails (4 hrs)

Totals: Run, 25-30 mi (4:47) /
Bike, 63 mi (5:50) / Hike, (3-4 hrs)

Oh and while I was in Missoula, I purchased a sweet pair of trail runners... the Brook's Cascadia. Check out this eco-friendly hotness designed with the help of Scott Jurek. A lil 7-time Western State Champion in your shoes can't hurt.

Wacky Wednesday

2008-04-09T23:00:00.000-04:00

Well, today was not a typical Wednesday... It wasn't a bad day, either... just kinda random.

First, that school board meeting was out of control last night! If they weren't arguing about procedural shit or the technical wording of teacher contracts, they were debating whether or not to hire legal council for the superintendent who is probably going to be sued, and if the other guy doesn't do it, I will for wasting almost 5 precious hours of my life.

So, I missed my deadline and most importantly, my bed time last night, which totally killed my big plans for today... run in the morning, bike w/the ladies at night. I woke up exhausted and decided to push back the run til this afternoon, not realizing I would be busy all day attending a meeting of the Tavern Owner's Association (who was discussing how to curb underage drinking) and a meeting of the Western Montana Grower's Cooperative (who is starting up a co-op of locally grown, organic produce, meat, eggs and dairy)... pretty cool stuff, but again, not conducive to running.

When I finally made it back to Polson, storm clouds had moved in on what had been a pretty gorgeous day. By the time we all met for our ride, the sky had opened up and it was officially dumping eye-stinging sleet with a wind that could blow down even the little piggy's house of bricks.

So, no run. No ride. But, a handful of interesting meetings (including an Obama Campaign meeting tonight. And even though I'm not sure who the heck I am going to vote for, they did have some awesome oatmeal chocolate chip cookies).

OH! and I got a few hairs cut this morning... eeeek!

Shorts!!!

2008-04-08T19:48:00.002-04:00

Running in shorts!!! How amazing is that!?!

After a long day of caption-writing and copy editing, I was finally able to sneak away for a quick hour run on the Jette trails. Again thankful that the Tribal police have yet to discover me on their land without a permit (I'm waiting to become a resident because it's cheaper!), it was a perfect, sunny and cool spring day... finally feels like APRIL!

Now for some food and a thrilling evening at the Polson School Board meeting... 33 agenda items... awesome.

Weekly wrap-up

2008-04-07T23:31:00.003-04:00

It was a truly gorgeous night for a ride, even by Montana standards... puffy white clouds and wet roads that shimmered in a fierce sun. The sky was spitting mixed percipitation as we left the shop, but the sun eventually won its battle with the clouds and we all warmed up quickly on the climb out of town.

Totals for this past week:
Run 18 mi (2:36) / Bike 116 mi (9:50)
Cross country ski (2:30)

M - Off
T - Bike 39 mi (2:30)
W - Run 14 mi (2H) / Bike 24 mi (2H)
R - Off... slacker day
F - Bike Time Trial (40:34), 35 mi (2:30)
S - Mountain Bike 18 mi (2:50)
S - XC ski (2:30) / Run 4 mi (:36)

Still not enough running! I'll try to step it up this week...

Skiing in Glacier

2008-04-07T10:27:00.004-04:00

Winter sports and I are just starting to get along. Here's a video of my stellar skiing abilities...

It was a great day, even if I spent more time in the snow than on my skis!

Week Six

2008-04-05T19:15:00.005-04:00

Six weeks in Montana and it's all coming together... I could get used to this. :)

Cold temperatures and wet snow persuaded race directors to postpone this morning's Speedwagon Classic, a 50-mile race on paved and dirt roads around Polson. THANK YOU MOTHER NATURE because, while I was looking forward to the Classic, I was finally able to hit the Jette trails with some local mountain bikers... and man, it was awesome.

We started out in a winter wonderland with fresh flurries and an inch or so of snow on the long, winding, mostly uphill logging roads. By the end of the afternoon (almost 4 hours later), it was sunny with pockets of blue sky and clear, but wet trails... the only part of me that was complaining were my frozen toes and the occasional obnoxious screech from my disc breaks. Perhaps the highlight of the whole ride was this one little stretch of single track that dropped us (after some grueling and technical climbing) at a lone bench, perched on the top of a cliff, overlooking one of the bays. It was the best view I've seen of the lake since I've been here and it was definitely worth the climb.

Though we stuck mostly to the logging roads (all the single track is still hidden under snow), this ride FINALLY introduced me to some Montana mountain biking. The road stuff is great for consistency and training purposes and I definitely felt strong today, I think, because of all the miles I've logged on the road bike, but I am just so happy when I am out on the trails... it's just something I love and can't live without. Now that I know where to find them, I don't have to!

Some other highlights from the week... Monday was a horrible day at work (most Mondays and Tuesdays are, but this one was particularly crappy). So, I peaced-out around noon on Tuesday and went for an amazing 39-mile ride out to King's Point, around Kerr Dam Road to Eli Gap and back into town.

Wednesday, I decided recently is going to be my double day, so, I woke up and headed out for what turned into a 14 mile run. It was the first decent mileage I have logged in about a month and it felt great. I explored the dirt roads I ran on my very first run here. A simple out-and-back, but all around good run. I put in a few pointless hours at the office, and then met up with the girls for Wednesday's "Ladies Ride." We rode for about 24 miles at a pretty relaxed pace. It was a good spin and got some of the tightness out of my legs from the run.

This week I finally made it to the Friday night time trial and all things considered, I think I had a pretty good first showing. All things considered refers to the non-stop story-writing machine I was all night Thursday and all day Friday, the 360 degree winds (how can you have a head-wind the entire loop!?), the noxious fumes (a.k.a. grass fires... stupid open-burning season), and the fact that I have yet to put clipless pedals on my road bike because I'm too poor to buy them and keep forgetting to ask someone to rip the SPDs off my old Schwinn.

Well, that's about it... sorry for the long post, but it's been a busy week. Tomorrow should be fun too. Looks like it'll be either Glacier to cross country ski, or last day at Lookout Pass or Big Mountain... one more day of thrills on the snowboard!

By the way, check out GOALS ARA at the Planet Adventure 24-hour Challenge in Indiana this weekend! I wish I was there, but the guys are kicking butt, somewhere in the mix for top 3 with EMS leading the way.

Cheers!

Paradise at Silver Mountain

2008-03-30T22:45:00.002-04:00

I think I am officially a snowboarder... well, in the sense that I can now actually make it down the mountain with relative ease, turn at will, navigate thick powder, and most importantly, get on and off the lift without falling on my face!

Saturday was an amazing day at Silver Mountain. I made the sketchy drive over Lookout Pass to Kellogg, ID in a blazing snow storm Friday night. My editor, Sarah, and I were headed for our first "ski trip" with some friends from Polson. We were going to write and photograph for our 'Outdoor' page story about spring skiing and warm-weather events at Silver Mountain. Needless to say, with more than a foot of fresh powder and continuous flurries all day long, we changed our approach. Spring may be just around the corner, but winter's end is no where in sight.

Our cabin was stocked with everything a good ski trip requires and after an exhausting day on one of the most incredible mountains around, we hit the hot tub before having a great fajita dinner while watching Dumb and Dumber. We played charades and even checked out the bar scene for a few hours in Kellogg... cute town, but not a lot going on. We entertained the entire bar with a sad attempt at a game of pool. After a late night, I was up at 7 a.m. to drive 3hrs back to Polson and get to work.

I swear, I tried to be productive, but ended up sleeping for a few hours, then wasting the afternoon driving around the lake looking for this one stupid road I was told had a great trail into the mountains. I made it all the way to Swan Lake (on the other side of the Mission Mts) and finally turned around out of frustration. Instead, I went for a run along the beach and through the golf course as the sun set.

This week is going to be the week from hell, but with a spectacular weekend behind me, I guess that's ok.

Here's last week's wrap up:
Run 10.5 mi (2hrs) / Bike 82 mi (5:18) /
Swim 2,000 (:40) / Snowboard (5 hrs)

M - Bike 32 mi (2:10)
T - Run track workout (2,4,6,8,10,8,6,4,2,1 mi cool-down)
W - Bike easy 25 mi (1:38)
R - Swim 2,000 yds (:40)
F - Bike 25 mi (1:30)
S - Snowboard (5 hrs)
S - Run 6.5M on beach/grass (1 hr)

Not enough running, but I'm going to try to double on Wednesdays from now on and actually get a solid distance run in next weekend.

Cows?

2008-03-28T22:08:00.003-04:00

So, this is going to be short as I am just about to leave for a ski trip buuuuut... I was out on this back road tonight waiting for a group of bike riders to pass by so I could get some photos for the paper this week. Well, I got there really early and as I am sitting there waiting, a few cows start to wonder up to the fence. They're kinda staring me down, so I turn my back to them and make some phone calls to pass the time.

I turn around a few minutes later and, apparently, the entire herd of cattle found my conversation interesting enough to migrate over and join the audience along the fence. It was the strangest thing. I sat there... they drooled and huffed and pissed rivers for about 5 minutes until this annoying dog ran out and chased me from my stake-out spot. Welcome to Montana, folks.

Of course the riders passed by as I was packed up and headed home... I managed a few, rather frantic shots at least.

Have a great weekend, everyone (all 3 people that read this thing)!

Speeeeeeeeed

2008-03-25T22:12:00.003-04:00

Well, not so much, but...

Quick track workout (200, 400, 600, 800, 1000, 800, 600, 400, 200....), check.

Long day running around for work taking photos of broken bridges, Montana sports legends, old ladies and beer, check.

Darn good dinner of random mexican-burrito-ish items scrounged from my near empty freezer, fridge and cabinets, check.

Shower, book, bed... ahhh.

Monday Night Tempo Ride

2008-03-25T00:14:00.002-04:00

It's 10:15 and I am ready for bed. After a long day of sitting at my desk and twiddling my thumbs, I finally made it out for the Monday night group ride in Polson. The day was cold and windy, but the sun was out and the yellow hills behind town were beckoning our pack as we weaved through the series of 90 degree turns past Kerr Dam and into the open landscape.

It was a great ride... not too hilly, but had a couple of big ones that really took it out of the legs. I got a better taste of pack riding since the wind was so brutal. Caroline and I were on our own for a while in the beginning, but the guys waited for everyone to catch up and we continued on into the sunset. Guess it was a little over 30 miles total... or that's what I was told. We were apparently cruising at around 27 miles and hour for most of the ride, which to me, coming from a background in mountain biking, is absurd. Flying down the hill into town I was told we hit 40 mi/hr... it felt a lot faster :)

Tomorrow's the track workout... yikes... speed work!? Eh, I'll give it a whirl... as long as I don't get stuck working all night.

Adios!

Sunday Morning Mountain Run

2008-03-24T01:30:00.006-04:00

I've been living in the Flathead Valley for just over four weeks now and can not seem to get over those majestic peaks to the east, the Mission Mountains. I am so intrigued by the steep, chiseled slopes, how they light up at sunset and dominate the otherwise uninspiring landscape. So, I started a new tradition a few weeks ago and it's definitely one of the things I look forward to most in the week... my Sunday Morning Mountain Run.

This Sunday actually qualifies as an afternoon run since I didn't wake up until 10:30!?! I stayed up late retouching photos and browsing the iTunes music store... yep, this is life in Polson :)

Anyways, I finally hit the trails at Jette around noon and felt like a million bucks as I started the long, gradual climb toward the snow-covered single track I found last week. I followed a packed route down this fun side trail with a number of downed trees and rocky sections, then hit a road and turned around. My legs were surprisingly fresh after yesterday's ride, which is a great sign considering my not-so-consistent training as of late, so when I hit the intersection to go back, I headed up again. This time, I followed snow-mobile tracks up and around until... BOOM. The sweetest view of Flathead Lake I've seen yet. It was so unexpected I pulled out my cell phone, snapped a photo and sent it to Brent and Abby who replied with a shot of ghetto Philly taken out the car window as they drove on 95 home from White Clay. (Sorry guys).

Well, the snow-mobile tracks ended there and I wouldn't have made it very much further without snowshoes, so I turned back and headed down the mountain. My watch battery died yesterday, so I don't know exactly how long it was... I'm estimating 1:20, give or take my 2-5 minute break at the top. Not bad considering I slept most of the day away and had to rush home to bake cookies with Caroline for the Easter feast we were invited to attend.

Feast is really not an exaggeration either. We went with John (from the bike crew) to this amazing little farm tucked into the hills behind Polson. They raise sheep, so we ate lamb (kinda sad), as well as home-grown potatos, home-baked bread, a number of delicious other sides... and huckleberry pie... mmmmm. Apparently, huckleberries are a big deal around here. They can not be cultivated and thus are only harvested by picking the wild berries found in the mountains or along the roads. Well, they make for a tasty pie, which I paired with a cup of tea and fresh honey... like, from the hive. These people were great. So kind and generous.

I'm looking forward to the Monday night tempo ride tomorrow... as long as I don't get stuck covering a school board meeting or city council.

Totals (estimated) for this week:
Run 19.5 mi (3:15-ish) / Bike 75 mi (4 hr-ish)

M - off
T - Bike 20 mi (1:20-ish)
W - Bike 20 mi (1:20-ish)
R - Run Jette trails 9 mi (1:24)
F - Run town/beach 4.5 mi (:36)
S - Bike race 35 mi (??)
S - Run Jette trails 8mi (1:15-ish)

I really need to get a new watch and computer for my road bike. Ok, time for bed... Goodnight!

Missoula Road Bike Training Race

2008-03-22T23:19:00.000-04:00

Wow. Road bike racing is a rush to say the least. Especially when you've never done even a training ride in a pack before and you have some old guy screaming at you to "close that gap!" just as the mass of people in front of you crash to the ground and you skim around the heap of bikes and limbs into the grass to avoid joining them on the pavement and think, "Good thing I wasn't right on that guy's wheel."

What a great Saturday. Caroline and I made a quick pit stop at the Polson Easter Egg Hunt so I could shoot the weekly "cute kid" photos for the paper, then we hit the open road: Hwy 93 straight to Missoula. After the race, we followed our 40-yr old married men teammates to an awesome burrito place, had some lunch and wandered around old town for the rest of the afternoon. We met up with my editor, Sarah, and strolled with the dogs through a park stopping to watch some kayakers play in the small rapids. Apparently, I'm not a very attentive dog-walker... whatever, dude. Haha.

So, good day. Great ride. Sweet sunset photos of snow capped peaks reflected in the puddles surrounding Kicking Horse Reservoir.

Happy Easter!

The Mountain Adventure Race (MAR)

2008-03-21T23:49:00.003-04:00

So, the most exciting recent development is that Brent, my adventure racing teammate from Philly plans to come to Montana and race the MAR , a 4-day expedition race known for its brutal elevation, but incredible scenery this August. Brent and I have been toying with the idea of entering an expedition length race (even going as far as to join a team for Primal Quest this year). We thought about the Baja Traversia, the Efix and the MAR, but with his teaching schedule and the cost of a big race like that, we just couldn't make it work. The MAR, which was originally supposed to happen early in the season, was just moved to August and TA-DA! problem solved. Plus, it's just 4 hours from where I am currently living. We're still looking for two more teammates so we can compete as a four-person team as opposed to a two, but if we can't find anyone, the two of us are ready to take on the Montana wilderness alone.

This race motivates me on a number of levels. I am at a bit of a disadvantage not having the adventure racing schedule of 12 and 24 hour races that Brent will have this spring. I also don't have the network of training partners that I used to, so much of my longer workouts may have to be done solo. Still, I can't imagine having trouble motivating myself to hop down to the docks, into a kayak and cruise around the islands on Flathead Lake or churn on up to the trails on Jette for a distance run or a solid ride. Plus, I have this great crew of road bikers and triathletes here in Polson who train reguarly each night of the week. AND with Glacier Natl. Park and the Mission Mountains right down the road, I am sure the backpacking adventures will start to add up as summer approaches.

I just can't wait. This whole move thing was pretty scary at first and awful lonely at times, but things are really starting to pick up and I am meeting some great people who seem to love the same kinds of things I do... just gotta get them to the next level... all-night mountain biking sessions anyone?

:-P

Montana!?!

2008-03-21T18:55:00.002-04:00

So, long story short... Hi, from Polson, MT. I decided to take a job here and well, after a crazy few weeks of packing, driving out and settling in, I guess it's time to start posting again.

I added a calendar of the races I hope to do this year. It was not easy finding all those races and I have no idea what else will pop up, but for now, it looks like a well-rounded list to me. Not enough adventure racing, though. This area doesn't have the great organizations like GOALS and NYARA, etc like I had back home, but there are some pretty awesome places to run, ride and paddle... right out my back door!

Whirlwind weekend

2008-01-14T17:07:00.000-05:00

This weekend started too early and ended with me feeling absolutely exhausted, but isn't that how all the good ones seem to go?

Woke up at 5:30am Saturday for a Pennypack park trail run w/Eric. We had to break out the headlamps for the first few miles until the sun came up, which was beautiful as seen from the grassy hill-top trails. We ran for a little over an hour, so that was good, but I definitely felt sluggish after a pretty seditary week.

After a quick thaw thanks to a Dunkin Donuts hot chocolate, I headed to Brent's for a 20 min nap and the next leg of my adventure. The two of us drove down to Delaware to ride with Matt at White Clay. I love mountain biking in this park. The trails are so nicely groomed, it makes for real fast, fun riding. Lots of tiny ups and downs... swearving (sometimes recklessly) through trees, and not much climbing... at all. Looking back at my first few trips to this park I can easily see how much my riding has improved. I still whimp out occassionally (like the last few drops on a winding trail in a steep ravine), but there is little to really challenge me here (with the exception of the skills course, of course). This is the park where I litterally tipped myself over a bridge into a creek a year ago because I couldn't handle the little bump from trail to board.

It was THE perfect day to ride, so of course, we got back to Philly with too little time for me to go home before the GOALS ARA volunteer party. So, I borrowed Abby's RailRiders and went to the party in the t-shirt I had worn that morning to run. Pretty gross... although I was showered and the shirt did go through the dryer. After the party, I headed into the city to hang out with Theresa... not having anything to wear to the bar being only a minor issue. Thankfully she had some clothes in the back of her car.

After an uncomfortabe night on the couch in Pete's apartment, I headed back to the Wiss for a long trail run with Brent. It is amazing how much better I felt Sunday morning than I had the day before. We did a few loops so he could run each of his two dogs separately (apparently it was a disaster when they both tried to run together). All-in-all we did 11.5 miles in under 1:50 on really hilly, rocky terrain. Definitely a good way to wrap up a hard weekend on top of a terrible week of training.

Here's the breakdown for this week:
M - nothing!
T - nothing!
W - nothing!
R - Run, 5 miles (:42)
F - Elliptical (:30)
S - Run, 7-ish miles (1:03) / Bike, 10 miles (1:30)
S - Run 11.5 miles (1:50)

Oh the elliptical...

2008-01-11T23:14:00.000-05:00

It's actually a really nice thing on a rainy, cold night like tonight... but still, every time I get on that thing I feel like such a geek... or my mom... or one of those frumpy old ladies at the gym just spinning their wheeles and sweating their ass off.

Big day tomorrow. Startin off w/a trail run through Pennypack park w/Eric at the heart-breaking hour of 6am. I'm so excited to finally know where this park is! Then heading down to White Clay for a fun, fast, hopefully multi-hour ride with Matt and Brent.

I'm gonna need some coffeeeeeee...

Yuck, yuck, yuck

2008-01-10T14:04:00.000-05:00

I think it's more accurate to refer to today's 5 mile run as a "jog" or even a "crawl". I felt terribly sluggish and no matter what song came on the iPod, I could not get motivated to pick up the pace. Can't worry about it too much though considering I did take the last 3 days off (work, work, study, study...)... and have to take the GRE in 2 hrs.

As I was saying... yuck, yuck, yuck.

Last week

2008-01-09T00:04:00.000-05:00

I realize it's a bit over-due, but here's a re-cap of last week:

M - Off
T - Off
W - 13 mile run (2 hrs), on trail, long hills
R - 11 mile bike (1.25 hrs), on trail, long hills
F - 30 min elliptical, snowboarding (2 hrs)
S - 20 mile bike (2.25 hrs), mix trail/tow-path
S - 10.25 mile run (1.5 hrs), on road

Guess it was a decent week with some great work-outs in there toward the end, but I am not happy about the lack of short/recovery runs. I really have a tough time sneaking in even a few miles on Mondays and Tuesdays because I am up early and home so late... by then I am exhausted. I need to be better about running on bike days, too. Ah well, can't be too upset with a 9 hr week.

This week is looking like crrrraaap thanks to the GRE which I will take Thursday afternoon. I have been a study-a-holic every night and all day today because I haven't had a math class in 6 years and I don't remember any of it. Apparently grad school is more important than racing...

Snowboarding

2008-01-06T17:24:00.000-05:00

Snowboarding is serious fun. After a long day at the store and then a quick 30 min workout, I hit the slopes Friday night w/Matt. EMS was there for the first of four "Jam at the Creek" sessions, so it was hoppin at the bottom and the lift tickets were dirt cheap. Only problem is, now I'm hooked and it's just another thing to add to the millions of other expensive nitch hobbies I already have.

We ended up crashing at the lodge Friday night curtousey of EMS. Then I was up early for a killer 2.5 hr bike ride through Wissahickon Park down to Belmont Plateau and back. Brent and I clocked a little over 20 miles, which is great considering how much trail we were able to do in that time. My knees took a beating and standing around at work prompted me to take this morning off from riding. It was a tough call, but a good one I think. Plus, I needed to catch up on sleep.

Now I'm off for an about 10 mile run to before it gets too dark. Then maybe a session on the Vew-Do...

=)

Some background...

2008-01-04T03:38:00.000-05:00

So, this blog will be a mix of training notes and random thoughts about running and racing, new gear and fun adventures. I am following the example of my good friend Erik Hischmann who started a blog to talk about his ultra running. I liked the idea, although I am really good at starting things and then abandonning them... oh and I'm really good at rambling on... and on...

I'm an adventure racer mostly. My original team is named Suburban Stangers, but this year I will race with GOALS-ARA. It should be an exciting year... lots of races and stiff competition. I'd also really like to get an ultra or at least trail marathon under my belt this year. I think my first will be the Hat 50k at the end of March.

I am planning to summit Mt. Washington on January 20 with some friends and the EMS Climbing School. While I am not a fan of extreme temperatures, wind burn, frostbite or avalanches, I am a definitely fan of doing stupid and dangerous things that I am really not qualified to do. I think this will be an awesome adventure and a pretty big accomplishment.

blogging...

2008-01-03T23:48:00.000-05:00

Guess I've officially joined the club... now if I only had something interesting to say...