A Prairie Dog Isn’t A Dog

It’s likeness has been sculpted from a plate full of mashed potatoes, and was used as a landing strip for alien aircraft.  In folklore, its appearance was created from a giant bear clawing to get its prey.  Neither of these are true, of course, but when you see it in person, it’s easy to see how imaginations can go into overdrive.  Wyoming’s Devils Tower National Monument is fascinating and unique.

As an ancient underground volcano, it went dormant.  Over millions of years, the sediment and earth around it eroded, leaving the remarkable image that we see, today – our first national monument.

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On July 4, 1893 a local rancher named William Rogers (with the help of Willard Ripley) created a 350-foot wooden ladder and climbed to the top of Devils Tower.  The ladder was constructed by hammering wooden stakes that had been sharpened to a point, into the long vertical crack – the pegs would then be attached on the other end by wooden strips.  Most of that ladder has been destroyed, but some is still visible.

Today, Devils Tower is marked as one of the finest climbing destinations, in America.  Hundreds descend upon the tower to conquer its immense hexagonal columns.

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There is one main trail that follows the base of Devils Tower – about a mile and a half of great views, information plaques, and nature.  Running this trail was a given but I had to find something else.

Two other trails led off from the main – Red Bed and Southside.

I first hit Red Bed.  Paved trail turned narrow, rocky, and bug infested, quickly.  I danced through rock and boulder, hopped stepped and kicked through a hillside of grasshoppers, and tried to keep my eyes open for any rattlesnakes that may be along the way.  It was challenging.

Curving and descending down the hillside, I came to the Southside Trail.  This would lead me further down an across the park road to a prairie.  I heard an odd chirping sound.  I entered a prairie dog community.

It seemed that there were more prairie dog homes than craters on the moon.  Little heads and bodies popping up and scurrying across the field.  The curious and busy little rodents could see me coming and the chirping changed to a high-pitched kind of screech.  I became the enemy.

It was only about a quarter mile around the community, as I came back out onto the road.  I crossed and came to a prairie dog who chanced crossing at the same spot…and lost. 

The southside went from following a creek to going uphill – more grasshoppers and rattling sounds.  The trail quickly connected back to the Red Bed, which continued its own loop. 

Rounding the bend, the countryside went from a prairie to red rock cliffs, hovering over the creek and a lush green meadow – very cool and seemed very out of place.

I ran over red rock and dirt for a short quarter of a mile, and continued on through the back portion of the tower.  That’s where I noticed the contrast of the black remnants of tree – casualties of forest fire.  New life grew around them.  I would soon come out where I began, the Devils Tower parking lot.  My last documented run of Trip 2009…

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All good things must come to an end…or do they? 

This trip started out in Cedar Rapids and as before, will end there.  But it truly will never end.

I may or may not continue with the “America On A Runner’s High” chronicles – time will tell.  But what is certain to continue will be the exploring and learning, the running and sharing, the telling and showing – it should never end.

Hopefully, those who followed and read throughout all this craziness, have taken something away positive – to know that would be all the satisfaction that I need.

With that said, thanks to all who read and followed, on a daily basis or otherwise.  It’s appreciated, greatly.  And I will now take the time to apologize for poor grammar, sentence structure, and taste – it’s just me being me and that’s all it will be…  Peace.

Chris

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Charity of the Day:  Corridor Recovery

There has been progress made in recovering from the devastating flood of 2008, but there is a long road still ahead.  Corridor Recovery has been an integral part in recovery efforts and continues to be so.  Check out their website and learn how you can help with this ongoing recovery effort.

Song of the Day:  “When the Sand Runs Out” by Rascal Flatts

“I want to be runnin’ when the sand runs out…” 

 

Crazy Horse Memorial

You probably know of the ongoing Crazy Horse Memorial carving – if not, check it out!

As a nonprofit foundation, the Crazy Horse Memorial accepts only public donations.  Because of that and other factors (such as weather), project completion is uncertain.  But with the support of the public, this amazing vision will reach its goal, sooner. 

Check out the website for all the info that you would like to know about the project, the creator, the man immortalized, and how and why this project was started.  And be sure to make future plans to visit the Black Hills and the memorial.

Including the mountain itself, on site is a museum, education and cultural center, restaurant and gift shop, and a great tribute to its dedicated creator, Korczak Ziolkowski.  It’s an amazing story.

When completed, the entire campus below the mountain will incorate several facilities including a college, athletic fields, cultural center, and hospital, to name a few.  It’s a vision that can only be completed with our help.

Yellowstoned

I think that it’s becoming common knowledge that Yellowstone, in all of it’s beauty, is one big volcano.  Thinking about how thin the earth’s crust is beneath your feet (only a few miles) gets kind of creepy.  Perhaps that is why my visit seemed so…chaotic and frenzied.

About twenty years ago, I was here with a couple of friends.  We came in a loaded up Chevy Van and we conquered – growing beards, that is. 

I learned a few lessons over those several days.  One: Yellowstone and the Tetons are truly wild.  Two: A cloudless night sky is amazing in Yellowstone.  Three: Don’t drink untreated water, no matter how clear, cool, and inviting it looks…  It was, without a doubt, one of the best trips, ever.

As I entered the park, I came to the Mammoth campground, where we had stayed a part of the time.  Looking over the land, a memory smacked me in the face.  Feeling youthful (and with a few beers in us) we spotted a steep hill to run up.  And there it was – hadn’t changed, at all.  Given the time, I’ll be running it as a tribute.

After contacting the park service, the ranger who responded gave me a not-so-positive reply.  She pretty much said, “I don’t recommend it, at all.  Good luck!”  Suggestions of carrying bear spray and wearing bells just sounded over the top – and so did getting mauled by a grizzly.  So, I scrambled to find a safe approach.  The result of trying to decide on a running route, turned into something very similar to National Lampoon’s Vacation. 

Yellowstone is huge.  A couple of big loop drives make up the park, with lots of trails branching out, all around.  One trail I noticed when coming in.  It ran along a creek and looked safe – not sure how long it was.  I would come back when heading out.

My biggest problem that I faced wasn’t what trail and how safe, it was did I have enough daylight.  It was afternoon by the time I got to the park – a typical “later than planned start” from Coeur d’Alene and an underestimated distance through western Montana.

First thing to do was hit the major points of interest, which is tough to narrow-down when you’re in a place like this.  I made a beeline towards Old Faithful, on the other end of the park – did I mention that Yellowstone is huge?

When I looked at the map and saw that there was significant distance between points, I didn’t think much of it.  It looked like I could get there and back and be able to fit in my run…whatever.  Reality hit pretty quick.

You figure that the speed limits are going to be fairly slow…understandable.  What you truly have to prepare yourself for is the traffic.  The traffic is what made my short visit, Lampoon-like.

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Yellowstone is an incredible place to come if you want to see wildlife – they’re abundant.  It’s like a zoo without cages or walls.  We humans really love to look at creatures, don’t we?

Every bison, elk, deer, moose, coyote, rodent within the park, caught people’s eye.  If I had the time, it probably would me, as well.  I was on a mission…

It was clear with all of the slower drivers ahead of me, that I was hurtin’ for time.  I had to formulate a plan.  “Okay.  Major points of interest are the canyon and falls, and Old Faithful and the geyser basin.”  Those and everything that might pop up would have to be a quick in and out and move on.  Yes, I was on a mission…

Undine Falls…stopped car, ran to a viewpoint, took a picture and ran back to my still running car.  I drove on.

An interesting valley overlook…put the car in park, ran to a good viewpoint, took a picture, and ran back.  Next stop…

The canyon would come and I knew this could be a time-consumer.  Between the upper and lower falls, there was ground to cover.  I stopped at the upper lot, weaved through the multitudes, took a few pictures at the first overlook, ran to the next while weaving through an even thicker crowd, took some pictures, and ran to the car.  I drove on.  The lower falls, I knew, was going to be a workout. 

Two viewpoints – one was a good shot of the canyon with the falls in the background, and the other a more close-up look at the falls.  The first was another stop, run, shoot, run, drive on.  The other was a path, maybe a mile in length that has MANY stairs.  I parked, ran down the paved trail, and then remembered how scary the stairs are – height fearing individuals, like me, hold onto the railing for dear life, as they carefully make their way down.  But I wasn’t going to show the four year-olds, that were doing it, that I had no fear.  I was sweatin’ bullets…

With the falls down in record time, I drove on and reality hit immediately.

Yes, this park has a lot of wildlife viewing opportunities.  In fact, they love to block roadways – the bison, especially.

As I am sitting in my car, waiting patiently as people ogle over the two “bison-in-love” that were in the middle of the road, despair was sinking in.  Not only would I be under the influence of wildlife on the roads, but the “fascination” factor in humans would dictate a lot.  So, why do people get really close to buffalo, even after told not to?  I was waiting for an attack that thankfully never came.  I, eventually, drove on.

Delay after delay came because of bison and elk spottings.  It started to get irritating but more because of the situation that I put myself in.  If I had all day, I would probably be pulled over with everyone else, but nope…I have time management issues.  I came to a great valley photo opportunity, stopped ran to my spot, took a couple of pics and drove away.

The sun was dropping quicker than I had prayed.  The trail run was in serious doubts, sadly.  In fact, I started to fear not getting to Old Faithful with enough daylight.  I started skipping great viewpoints.

Old Faithful was nearing and I found hope.  I broke free from slower traffic and was now in the lead.  Just fifteen more miles and an hour of sun left.  I pulled into the parking lot, changed camera batteries, and ran to her majesty…she was quiet.

The crowd was big and anticipating glory.  I stood as she gurgled and fizzled, gurgled more and fizzled more.  The steam was rolling out but nothing much else.  Then two feet of hot water, then nothing.  Two more feet and fizzle.  I laughed.

Impatient for her faithfulness and needing to see the geyser basin, before the sun falls, I turned and headed down the pathway.  I ran and heard a “no running.”  Not sure if that was the rule, I stopped and started to do a sorta race-walk thing.  Three minutes down the path and she blew her top.  Patience is a virtue that I lacked.

I must have race-walked about two miles through the basin but slowed as the sun dropped further.  I wasn’t in a hurry, anymore.  No need to be.  There was no way that I was going to get back to Mammoth with sunlight left.  Trail run cancelled, and sadly so was the Mammoth hill tribute – sorry, Hartman and Knuth.

The next step was to get something to eat and sit for the next watery show.  I sat, patiently. 

She went off at about ninety minutes after her last show.  It was dark and fittingly, where I sat was in direct line of where her waters would be blown.  It was almost like she were laughing as the waters rained down on me.  I just sat and laughed, silently.  Perhaps the most poignant moment of my life…

The day was done and I was wet.  I drove on.

Yellowstone is a place to spend a week, not just a day or even two…a week.  Everything that you can possibly imagine is in this park.  Just don’t step off the marked path or you could find yourself in hot water, literally.  My pictures do not do this magical place justice.

Next stop is Devil’s Tower as the trip comes to an end, but not before I make a special stop in the Black Hills.

Peace and tranquility!

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Charity of the Day:  Alzheimer’s Association

With over 77% of funds raised going towards care, support, research and awareness, the Alzheimer’s Association makes sure that our donations go to good use.  Check out their website and learn about this condition, the warning signs, and how you can help. 

Song of the Day:  “Kite” by U2

 

Coeur d’Moose

Mudgy

Is there a place that you always notice on a map but never check out?  Coeur d’Alene, Idaho has been one of those places, for me – so, I made sure that it would be a “must-add” to my trip route, this year. 

Doing some prior research, I noticed that they have several trails (paved and non-paved).  One in particular ran into downtown and near the Coeur d’Alene Lake, and I made that my planned run – the Centennial Trail.  And as luck would have it, came across a trailhead just as I was entering town.

Right away I noticed a peculiar sight.  I needed to change into my running gear so sought out a porta-john.  Have you ever seen an upscale porta-john?  I had an inclination that I was in a classy town, when I saw Coeur D’Alene’s  (see photo)!  Cleverly hidden and decorated…still a porta-john, on the inside.

The Centennial Trail is wide and paved – the hard surface was initially a killer on my sore feet and ankles, from my dunes run.  But I plodded along on a warm-up first mile, which wound around a business park and along railroad tracks.

I started to see some info plaques, along the route – one caught my eye.

A small section of the route was once called “Hobo Jungle” where these individuals would set up shantis, between the tracks and water.  A plaque is in place to mark the spot, and on that a “hobo” by the name of Oklahoma Slim was quoted on the difference between a hobo, tramp, and bum.  A hobo is a migratory worker.  A tramp is a migratory non-worker.  A bum is a non-migratory non-worker.  Right now, I guess that I’m a tramp…

The rail would take me past the University of Idaho and Louis & Clark State, and through a residential section…the trail seemed to end.  All I saw was a sign pointing the trail in the direction of where I came.  I thought, “Huh.  Short trail.  That blows.”  I headed down a sidewalk.

City Park was straight ahead and I found he trail, again.  Apparantly, I missed a turn and skipped a big chunk of trail.

The park was buzzin’ with people and the beach facing beautiful Lake Coeur d’Alene was packed.  I found myself weaving through the crowd.

Passing a boat dock, parking lot, and hotel, the trail went towards an athletic field (to my right) and downtown (to my left).  That’s when I saw a sign for another trail that I found myself on – it was called the Mudgy the Moose Trail.  I got curious.

I followed the path that led me to the public library and…a statue of a moose.  I had to find out.

So, there are seven Mudgy the Moose statutes along this trail,and the goal is to help Mudgy find Millie the Mouse.  Statues one and seven, I believe, are in the library, along with Millie.  I was looking at Mudgy Two.  I set out to help Mudgy.  I got lost within the first fifty meters.  I gave up.

Getting back on the trail route, I started to hit another residential area.  In fact, it seemed to do so for miles.  I was bummed – where’s the scenery in that!  After a mile or so, I took a left towards what I figured was main street.

Heading back towards downtown, I was now off the Centennial Trail.  I came across a home for sale and got curious, again.  Seven bedrooms, eight baths, three fireplaces, no garage…1.3 Million.  I said, “Whaaat?”

I hit downtown and saw a great side of Coeur d’Alene.  Lots of shopping and nice restaurants, which were open to outdoor seating.  I weaved through people traffic and by those eating.  I heard an “eeeww” and figured that I really impressed a girl.

Two blocks later I saw some antlers – Mudgy number three!  I was back in the search…not really.

I zig-zagged through downtown until I saw everything atleast twice, then I headed back.  I’d seen enough.

A little bit of disappointment hit because I expected more, for some reason.  But as I approached the boat dock, I saw a hill.  And leading into that hill was a trail – I beelined it.  At the entrance, Mudgy number four…or five…not sure.

Tubbs Hill had trails running all around it, with some having views of the lake.  I took the steepest, for some reason. 

I spent twenty minutes going in and around Tubbs Hill when I came to a small suspension bridge – I hit it hard and I swayed, rocked, and bounced my way to the other end…I did it again…and again.  I came out feeling satisfied with some quality running.  I headed back to the beach.

By the time I “reached the beach” the sun had fallen and people had left.  That left it all to the treasure hunters and their metal detectors.  I saw Mudgy number five…or six.  Heading back to Hobo Jungle was my next goal.

I was approaching the jungle area when I noticed a Coeur d’Alene police car folowing me, on the trail.  Either he was making sure that I would be safe or I had been tagged…  My feet were starting to kill me.

Finishing up, I thought about what I had just seen, through the miles.  Coeur d’Alene is a beautiful and clean town.  A lot of opportunities for runners and bikers – there are so many more trails that I didn’t have time to explore.  And I would like to come back, some day.  After-all, I didn’t finish helping Mudgy find Millie…

That’s it for Idaho and Coeur d’Alene.  Next stop is Yellowstone – complete with a running alone “not recommended” from a park ranger.  Should be interesting.

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Charity of the Day:  D.A.R.E.

Since 1983, D.A.R.E. has given children the skills to avoid involvement in drugs, gangs, and violence.  Now being implemented in seventy-five percent of our nation’s school districts, they continue to grow and help youth get through peer pressure situations.  Check our their website and find out how you can help.

Song of the Day:  “Fly Away” by Sugarland

The Perfect Runner Storm (Coos Bay – Day 2)

McCullough Bridge

Pre Memorial Plaque

A perfect storm happens when systems, that differ completely, merge to form one deadly force.  It doesn’t happen often but when it does, it’s felt by many and remembered, forever.

With a moderate climate and virtually every type of training possibility (monster hills, killer sand dunes, flatlands, etc.), Coos Bay, Oregon is prime grounds for forming a runner.  When you add individual talent, tenacity, and strong desire to be the best, you have what I call a “perfect runner storm.”  Steve Prefontaine was a storm that was felt by many and one that all who witnessed, wanted to last forever…

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When many (or most) think of Steve Prefontaine, they typically associate him with Eugene, OR.  To many in Coos Bay, that can be an irritant.  After all, it is where is was raised, learned that he had an extraordinary talent, and where he sadly rests.  Pre left an indelible mark on both communities, but it’s Coos Bay where the memories of youth can still be found.

As I drove the streets around his childhood home, I tried to imagine what these “stomping grounds” would be like.  The first thing that I noticed were the huge hills that were at Pre’s doorstep, literally.  You really can’t go anywhere in Coos without hitting a hill of all sizes.

I was fortunate enough to talk with a friend and teammate of Pre’s – the talk was TOO short.  Unfortunately, I did not get in contact with Jay Farr until late, so I missed out on what would have been an enjoyable run/talk. 

A good sign of what kind of character a person has is how much others delight in talking about them.  Stories about time with Pre never get old to those who had the pleasure of knowing him, on a personal level.  I had a feeling, as I was leaving Farr’s business, that he could have and would have talked about Pre (and running, in general) all day and into tomorrow.  The kind of guy that you want to spend the day with.

I asked Mr. Farr for some of Pre’s usual or favorite training routes.  Of all, I decided on the sand dunes that are a short drive across the McCullough Bridge.

As Mr. Farr was pointing out where he and Pre usually treaded in the dunes, I was taking mental notes – which meant that I was in trouble.  Honestly, I tried to find where he had explained but it is me we are talking about…

Ultimately, instead of the designated area shown to me, I decided to take a safer route – a sand road that went into the dunes and followed the coastline.  Safe as long as I didn’t get adventurous.

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The day prior, Andy (from the North Bend Visitor Center) had mentioned that the sand would be too soft, this time of year – oh, it was definitely soft.

I started out in a struggle but figured to get used it the feeling of not moving…anywhere.  This was going to be a workout, alright.

It was a workout and as the dunes and all of its vegetation loomed to my left, the sound of the ocean waves roared to my right…fog had rolled in.  The road was starting to get old and a change was needed – I went to my left and entered the dunes.

I tried to follow a trail that had been marked but what I found out quickly was that you really cannot.  It’s quite desolate and as I came across the bleached out bone of an animal, a little ominous.

Weaving through trees and beach grass, I looked for the nearest dune climb.  I needed something to conquer…in my own way.  And there it was, seemingly untouched.

I dug my feet in and pumped my legs, but the fact that my feet were disappearing in the soft sand made the task rather difficult.  Oh yes, a good workout.

I reached the top on looked around.  The area that Jay had told me about, looked to be south of me – I wasn’t going to take it on.  Not today, anyway.  I started back.

Now, the smartest thing to do would be to just follow my foot prints back out – I figured to explore a little more.  I got lost.

Nothing seemed familiar and as I plodded through the sand and beachgrass, I was starting to feel a stinging on my shins and knees.  I looked down and saw a little bit of blood forming.  It was the grass.

I felt the grass and discovered something else.  This beachgrass was more like porcupine quills!  Oh yes, I was exploring and having fun.

Not knowing where I really was, I just figured to head north/northwest and I would eventually run into the road – that’s when I saw the tracks.  They weren’t rabbit or squirrel – they looked more feline.  I looked around as I ran.  Was there something in these trees?  I briefly forgot about the stinging of the grass.

The road was a glorious sight.  I was lost no more…you really can’t get lost, though.  The only thing that you have to worry about is treading on protected land management property – I didn’t come close.

At the end of my run, I did feel like I just had an intense workout.  The sand was soft and difficult but was also what my legs needed.

When I got to the parking lot, there were two park rangers filling their truck tires with air.  I asked what the slicing grass was – they said that it was European Beachgrass.  It had been intoduced into the area and they’re starting to have troubles with its growth…nice. 

I also asked about the tracks that I had seen.  Turns out that people have been dropping their unwanted housecats off into the dunes…nice.

And so ended my time in Coos Bay.  Great people.  Incredible running.  An entire bay area on display as a memorial to Pre, visible or not.

The 30th Annual Prefontaine Memorial 10K  is on September 19 – you may want to book a flight and sign up.  The run benefits local runners, which was something near to Pre’s heart…giving back to athletes and community.  And while you’re here, there is so much to see regarding Steve Prefontaine.

There is the Pre Gallery in the Coos Art Museum.  There is Marshfield High where it all began.  There is the Chamber of Commerce Memorial and plaques that are displayed along the race route.  There is his grave site.  There is his spirit in every trail, road, and sand dune that you run.

I say goodbye to Coos Bay (for now) and will be saying hello to Coeur d’Alene, ID next.  It’s the homestretch of what has been a special trip…

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Charity of the Day:  Special Olympics

No athlete is more courageous than those who participate in Special Olympics events throughout the world.  Please check out their website and help ensure that NO athlete is forgotten or left behind.

Song of the Day:  “The Far End of the Black” by J.R. Richards

 

 

Runnin’ the Bay (Coos Bay – Day 1)

I spent two days in Eugene during my inaugural trip, in 2007.  Naturally, I spent some time highlighting Steve Prefontaine.  This year, I thought it only fitting (and fair) that I made a stop in Coos Bay, his hometown and where he is at rest.  I only planned to be here one day but that changed quick when I found out all that the city has to offer a runner, on top of everything Pre.

I mentioned in one of my updates that I got a late start from Eugene – that would mean a late afternoon to evening run, in Coos.  I was rested and ready.

Not knowing what kind of trails were within Coos Bay, I immediately stopped by the first Visitor Information Center that I came across.  And with that, here is a good bit of information when you travel.

You may already know or do this, but the best thing to do when traveling is talk to the Visitor Center volunteers and ask them any and all quetions that you may have.  And also talk to as many locals as you can…that’s where you will get the best info around.

Talking with Andy, in the North Bend info center, I settled on a route that started in Charleston (the marina, to be exact) and would have a turnaround at Cape Arago.  A fog bank started to roll in.

I parked in front of a U.S. Coast Guard, Search & Rescue station and changed into my running gear.  I suddenly noticed that my Bostons have turned from white to gray – must mean that I’ve been putting them to work.

Getting started, I decided to make a short cut through a seafood producer/shipper/I’m not quite sure.  It smelled…and as I passed a conveyor belt that was dumping fish-muck into a catcher, it smelled even worse.  I ran faster to escape the stench.

I headed up Chicken Point Road which I discovered to be slightly longer than a quarter mile, uphill.  It then descended into Chicken Point…a Bay lookout.  I started back.

Bastendorff Beach is a popular hangout for beachcombers and surfers – I didn’t hesitate hitting the sand.  A wide swath of hard packed and level beach opened up.  Fog horns were sounding in the distance.

I got to a jutting outcropping of rock which Andy mentioned had a cave that I could run through.  I couldn’t find it so I backtracked on the beach.  An opening shown through the grass and I took it.  An awkward moment occured as I interrupted a family who were eating.  It was part of a campground.  I apologized and ran away.

There seemed to be no other option but to hit the pavement, again.  The Cape Arago Highway became my path.  It had a decent sized shoulder for runners and bikers but that would disappear, quickly.  A sign appeared that pointed the way for a Tsunami Evacuation Route and the road turned into a hill.  At least I would be Tsunami-safe.

I was passing by Sunset Bay when a trail appeared – I hit it.  It turned out to be a glorious woodchip trail that couldn’t be more loved by my feet. 

The trail wound around, in and out, up and down, past several viewpoints of cliffs and ocean.  Canopied by trees, it was one of the better trails that I have been on – it ended too short.  It would turn into pavement, for a short time, and then dirt.  I started to here an unusual sound.  If you know Star Wars, it kind of sounded like Sand People, to me – the sound was coming from several sea lions, occupying a few rocky outcroppings.  The sun was dropping.

Cape Arago was just ahead and I hoofed it on road.  I turned and went back.

Coming back, I did the majority of the distance on Cape Arago Highway – the only part that wasn’t was the woodchip trail.  It still felt great.

By this time, the sun was very low ing the sky, the temp had dropped, the wind had picked up, and my feet were starting to feel the pavement.  But my legs were churning.

When I saw Bastendorff Beach Road, I knew that I was getting close – about a mile away.  I was thinking that the mileage that Andy had estimated, had to be wrong – eight felt more like fifteen.

The coolness of the weather was a huge change from how my trip had been.  A big reason for why I felt the way I did – relaxed and strong.  I was told later that Bastendorff Beach was one of Pre’s favorite areas to run…I could easily see why.

Day one in Coos Bay was spectatacular – day two?  Lucky.

Charity of the Day:  Mothers Against Drunk Driving

Thousands of promising lives are shortened every year through alcohol-related driving accidents.  Since 1980, MADD has aided the families of under the influence accident victims, and has brought public awareness to the problem of drinking and drugged driving.  Check out their website for staggering statistics and to find out how you can help.

Song of the Day:  “Diamond Road” by Sheryl Crow

Turn It Into Something Good

Where can you find one of the world’s most pure and pristine lakes?  Southern Oregon.

As part of the Sierra Nevada group of volcanoes, the former Mt. Mazama lost its top, literally, about 7,700 years ago.  The result of the top collapsing within iteslf, was a hollowed out mountain that would eventually fill with snow and rain water, and would become Crater Lake.

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I knew a little bit about Crater Lake prior to arriving.  I’m sure most have seen pictures so have a good idea – no picture can prepare you for what you see, in person.  Absolutely the deepest color of blue imaginable.  And at 1,943 feet, it becomes the deepest lake in America.

There are many trails around the lake but 95% of them are considered wilderness.  I was looking for a trail or trails that follow the rim, for the most part, for views of the lake.  I found two that seemed to fit what I was looking for – the Rim and Cleetwood Trails.

At about a mile long, the Cleetwood Trail drops sharply 700 feet to a boat dock.  This is where tours are given of the waters.  On my descent, I thought immediately that the return trip out, was going to be a challenge.  This was going to be some kind of warm-up to my day!  At many points, I found myself shortening my strides so I wouldn’t go too fast – the switchbacks are sharp, as well.

At the bottom, you get a great look at with they are talking about by using the word “pure” to describe the water.  At the shoreline, the water is as clear as a glass of water.  Where it drops off, the water turns into a deep blue.  And it is the most intense color of blue, you’ll see.  Sorta looks like a huge basin filled with Windex. 

The boat area was humming with activity.  People were swimming, fishing, staring at people swimming…  I took a few pics of the lake and headed back up.

I did stop a couple of times to take a picture but the ascent really wasn’t as bad as I had thought.  Maybe the previous days spent in canyons had prepared me, or maybe it was the others whom I saw along the way, cheering me on.

The problem with Cleetwood is that it doesn’t connect with anything except road and water, and you really don’t want to “road it” here – barely enough room for cars let alone runners.  That would mean that I had to drive to the next trailhead – about four miles down the road.

The Rim Trail is not the most cared for or the best marked that I’ve ever been on – no cairns.  It would go from unmarked pavement, to sand, to rock, to more sand, to road, etc.  It was a non-consistent off-road/road experience.  But only one experience was near-death.

To run the entire trail would be too many miles for what I wanted – I was looking for something a little shorter.  So, I just went by time – out thirty minutes and then back.  My pace was relaxed and cautious, making sure that I wouldn’t turn an ankle…or fall down a shear cliff.  Relaxed is a great word to describe where I was – until I came to the deadly pack of wild dogs.

When you’re in a National Park, there is always the thought of bear or mountain lion attacks.  What I faced was unexpected and made me cranky.

There she was, sitting on a blanket feeding her dogs from the basket…the woman in red.  I ran by the first time, unnoticed.  Coming back, her four dogs did in fact notice and attacked.

Now, I should probably describe this pack.  One looked like a Basenji mix, another a Yorkshire mix, another a mix of a mix, and the last a mutt…  Yes, they were a motley crew.

The Basenji-mix (named Kiki) liked to jump…a lot.  She would bounce off of me no less than 10 times, while the other ankle biters yipped and nipped and acted like the crazed beasts that they were.  I feared…nothing.  I was annoyed.  I cheated death.

The “owner” of these collar-less fiends called and fetched and then began to slap Kiki across the side of her head.  Did I mention that I was annoyed?

I was saved only by the next victim that came along, unknowingly.  I simply looked at her and said, “Isn’t it a wonderful day at the lake?”  She looked annoyed.

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Crater Lake is definitely something that is a must-see.  Nothing else is like it.  And it’s truly amazing to think of what it went through to get to this point.

At one point a mountain with a high peak.  It then erupts with unimaginable violence, collapsing into itself and causing a crater 5 to 6 miles across.  It’s a prime example of taking a negative and turning it into something good.  In life and in nature, it’s all the same.  And that’s what Crater Lake is – all good.

I leave with images etched in my mind and head a little futher to the west.  On the Pacific coastline of Oregon, there is a town named Coos Bay.  The town has a lot of maritime history but for a runner, it has another significant value – the hometown of Steve Prefontaine.

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Charity of the Day:  Autism Speaks

The chances of a child being diagnosed with autism is 1 in 150 – a staggering statistic.  Sadly, there is still no medical detection or cure for autism.  Autism Speaks is leading research into the disorder and are helping families who are affected.  Please check out their website and learn more about this disorder and how you can help.

Song of the Day:  “Liquid Light” by Nicholas Gunn

 

Monoliths and Mayhem

Shortcuts – are they worth it?  I looked for one that would get me to Yosemite from Vegas, and thought I figured it out.  Has anyone ever driven through Death Valley?  Within fifteen minutes, the outside temp gauge in my car went from 85 degrees to 108.  The name is fitting.  It’s not often that you see a sign that reads “radiator water ahead.”

The misery I felt in DV was replaced by bliss, this morning, when I drove through the Sierra Nevadas and Tioga Pass – amazing!  The temp gauge read 38…

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In May of 1903, John Muir and President Theodore Roosevelt sat by a campfire at a spot in Yosemite National Park.  Their three days together paved the way for the many great lands that make up our national park system, today.

Entering Yosemite on Tioga Road, I soon came to a clearing – Tuolumne Meadows.  There were a lot of visitors in the area but were all kind of spread out, doing their own thing.  One was sitting on a log, sorta meditating.  Another was sitting on a rock writing – most likely her own journal or poetry.  Another was way off in the distance, walking through the open grassland.  All were dressed in winter clothing.

Soon after, I would come to the calm, mirror-like Tenaya Lake, and then a “blow your mind” view from Olmstead Point.  I was set to get started.

Yosemite Valley was where I chose to do my running.  For the simple reasons that the more famous sights are found here, and the Valley Loop trail is long but largely flat and easy.  I really did not want to do climbing, today.  So, I drove patiently and cautious (wish everyone else did the same) on the winding park roads, until I came to the valley area.

Now, a little info on park attendance.  This happened to be a “free entrance fee” weekend for all of the national parks, throughout the U.S.  So, attendance was expected to be high.  It exceded what I thought it would be, and then some.  Vehicle after vehicle rolled in – the party was on…

I did my usual pre-run thing – ate a Clif Bar and drank about a half-pint of water, got dressed, and laced up the Bostons.  And this time, made sure to take a map of the trail – don’t want to get lost in Yosemite!

I started from the Visitor Center and headed west, and soon got lost.  They don’t have much for cairns here and in some places, the trail is hard to see.  But then again, it is me that we’re talking about.  Soon, I would get lost, again.

There are a few areas on the trail where I found myself without contact of anything – road or person.  And that would start to get my imagination going.  Every rustling that I heard, “What was that?” 

They tell you to make noise as you’re on the trails, so you don’t surprise any wildlife.  I thought that I would do some whistling, at about mid-way of the 13-mile loop – my lips were dry.  What resulted was a kind of blowing thing that would make even the wildlife laugh.  Soon, would come the irony of all ironies…

After getting lost for the third time (a fallen tree was hiding the trail, I swear), a family of three who were riding bikes approached and asked for directions – if they only knew.  I gave them a confident “this is where you are and this is where you need to go” reply – Lord, help ’em.

Shortly after showing my map expertise, I came to the LeConte Memorial Lodge – a landmark in honor of Joseph LeConte, one of the founding members of the Sierra Club.  That’s where I would finally see my first sign of wildlife, outside of birds, squirrels, deer, and humans.

I’m standing outside the lodge and reading a little on LeConte when I hear, “bear, bear, bear.”  Riding by on a bike was a man pointing in the direction to my left – and there it was.  Fifty feet in front and to the left of me was a black bear, just kinda out for a stroll.

The warning got everyone else around (about forty) in a stir and their gasps and whistles and “hey, go away’s” set the bear in motion.  It started to look nervous for its life and ran – I couldn’t move my feet.  All that I noticed was how big and strong it looked and it’s dangly orange tag hanging from the left ear – I thought that it would look more classy with a gold hoop, but who am I to judge.  The moment was brief.

About three miles later, I was done – thirteen miles plus whatever backtracking I needed to do to un-lose myself.

The natural scenery was spectacular, as you can imagine.  What was a downer was most all of the human contact.  Several moments stick out – like the three kids chasing a squirrel and whipping at it with a rope.  Or the other kid that was “relieving” himself, against a tree.  Or all of the honking of car horns.

As a whole, it was too much of a party atmosphere – weird.  I had never seen a park ranger hand out citations before, until today – multiples.  And while running along the Merced, came across all kinds of litter…a Brawny wrapper, a red plastic cup, and a flip-flop (just the right), to name a few.  And the noise pollution was out-of-bounds.  Muir and Roosevelt didn’t foresee all of that!

It was just bad timing, for me.  I hear Yosemite is better in the spring, when the falls are running.  Late summer, the creeks that feed them are dry…like today.  But I got to see the good, regardless.  And the good always outweighs the bad.  Thirteen miles in Yosemite Valley without being attacked.  Yes, it was a good day.

That brings me to the state of Oregon, where I will make a couple of stops.  The first is Crater Lake.  Should be awesome!

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Charity of the Day:  Santa Barbara County Firefighters Benevolent Foundation

A few counties to the southwest of Yosemite is Santa Barbara.  Like Yosemite, it’s an area that deals with forest fire and the threat of, too aften.  The SBCF have worked and risked their own lives, to save many homes and lives from the devastation that these fires bring.  Sadly, firefighters are stricken in the line of duty. 

The Santa Barbara County Firefighters Benevolent Foundation is a non-profit organization that helps the families of the fallen, who have financial needs.  Please check out their website and learn about what they do and how you can help.

Song of the Day:  “I Will Give You Life” by J.R. Richards

 

Beyond the Strip

To me, adding Las Vegas to this year’s trip plans was a bit of a gamble (pardon the pun).  By doing so, I wanted to show a side of the city that wasn’t just slot machines, high-priced show tickets, and outrageous hotels.  There is a natural side that I hope everyone will explore.

My plans were simple and hopeful – I wanted to get together with a local running club and see what’s available, in “Sin City,” for your running needs.  My Google search took me to the Valley Striders Running Club.

I was asked by Kathy Richter, of Valley Striders, what I would like to do – an urban run or Red Rock Canyon.  I knew that I would be coming in less than a day from the Grand Canyon, so the hilly Red Rock route sounded like torture.  I chose it, anyway.  It was perfect for what I wanted to accomplish – showing a different side of Vegas.  It was, in fact, a great choice.

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My lateness has been well-documented, by now.  This morning…I was late, again. 

The group was scheduled to meet at the exit to Red Rock, at 6:00AM – I got there at about 6:10 and saw a group of ladies heading out on the park road.  I thought, “You did it again…way to go.”

The park road is one way, from the entrance to exit, and is thirteen miles long.  It winds through a desert and goes up and down numerous hills, and is at the base of some incredible red colored rock formations and mountains.  I thought the scheduled workout was 14 miles (which made me worry) but only one runner, I believe, went that far.

I hurried to get dressed and head out to try and catch up.  About a quarter of a mile in, I realized that I wasn’t carrying any water – I went back, filled my hand held bottle and re-started.

After maybe a mile, I came to a runner with a Valley Striders shirt who was coming in – I said hello.  I then came to another in orange who smiled, waved and said, “Good morning.”  I didn’t know who she was and I never saw her again.

A little farther, I came up to the two “Barbaras.”  They pointed me in the right direction and said, “See you in the lot!”  I would.

I was in search of my contact, Kathy.  And two more runners said that she was ahead.  One thing that I was suddenly noticing was that everyone was heading back in – I figured that they must have changed their workout plans.

Another mile and two more runners.  “Are either of you Kathy?”  They said that she was just ahead and wearing yellow – I saw her in the distance.

While on my search for Kathy, cyclist after cyclist passed by – some roaring by!  Most held out a hand or a finger to acknowledge a brother in fitness.  Some were on the verge of having their own moron moment.

It turned out that the group of ladies (nine, I think) did a seven miler, and the lone male, Chris (not me), did the full loop.  This morning’s group was a bit smaller than the membership of forty-one, which officially start their marathon training, tomorrow.

After catching up with Kathy at about the turnaround point, we had a short chat and I started back on my own.  I came up to a trailhead that went out into the desert – the Pine Creek Trail.

The trail was very rocky and thoughts of not wishing to do more “dancing around rocks,” came to mind. 

I came to what seemed to be fresh paw prints and heard the yipping of a coyote (am pretty sure) and thought, “Uh, I better get outta here.”  So, that’s what I did.  Not sure how much it added to my run.

The parking lot would soon come and the morning run was complete.  Seven plus miles of some awesome scenery that you wouldn’t think that Vegas might have.  Seven plus miles amongst some classy company.  It’s definitely not all neon lights and side shows.

My morning was spent with a very friendly group of ladies and gentleman, and got in a good run.  What could be better?

I wasn’t quite sure how I would feel after yesterday – I was sore but the legs lifted one after the other and carried me through.  I am pleased and ready for tomorrow.

I will be back in Vegas – to run with my new found friends.  They mentioned the Las Vegas Rock & Roll Marathon in December…it’s a possibility.

I didn’t want to leave without cruisin’ the strip and see the one attraction that I deemed worth the extra effort – the fountain show of Bellagio.  I was truly in awe.  Wish that it lasted longer, though.

So, that’s it for Vegas.  What happened here has been written – good memories will both go and stay in Vegas.  That’s how it always should be.

Tomorrow is another big day in a National Park – bring on Yosemite!  Should be a blast…bears, please stay away.

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Charity of the Day:  Go Red For Women

Founded by the American Heart Association, Go Red For Women is an organization that is striving to bring awareness and research on the number one killer of women, in the U.S.  Please check out their website, learn the facts and choose to help.

Song of the Day:  “Roll With Me” by Montgomery Gentry

The Phantom Rancher

I would like to begin this piece with a disclaimer:  In no way should any attempt what you are about to read.  The National Park Service strongly urges individuals not to hike and/or run to the Colorado River and back in one day.  Even if there may have been some successes, in the past…or today.

In my first year of “America On A Runner’s High,” I tried reaching the bottom of the Grand Canyon and my wise old mind said, “Save it for another day.”  That day was today.

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When I drove up to the Grand Canyon entrance gate, I showed the ranger my annual pass and ID and then asked what the weather was supposed to be like.  She said rain.  “They say about a 30% chance but since it’s already rained, I’d about 50%.”  But if it’s already rained, that would make it…anyway.

It did rain early this morning and last night, which had me worried about trail conditions.  Would my Phantom Ranch obsession have to be delayed?  I could just run the Rim Trail.  It took two minutes for me to decide to go forward with my plan – Phantom.

Same trail as before which would help to gauge where I’m at and how I’m feeling.  This time around I supplied myself with a Camelbak (water storage backpack) and more Clif Bars and Gel Packs than last time.

Sidenote:  Camelbaks are essential and GREAT for hiking – horrid for running. 

I began and first came to a sign that warned of trying to do the river and back in the same day – severe illness happens to many of those who have tried, each year.  I ignored it and moved on with my 14-plus mile journey.

I jogged by a ranger who was heading down.  It was a good thing that she didn’t ask what my plans were.  Everything looked familiar.

There are many “steps” that the park service has erected with 2 to 3 foot logs – I absolutely hate those steps.  Hate is a strong word but is accurate in this case.  The number of those steps has seemed to increase atleast ten times, since 2007.  And those steps made it incredibly hard to run – nearly impossible.

Those same steps also served as gatherers of rain water.  Much effort was exerted dancing and stepping around puddles of red muddy water.

Landmark after landmark passed by and I came to the familiar Skeleton Point.  And then the Tip Off.  The river was in sight and the sound urged my feet to keep moving.  I was about to enter into unfamiliar territory.

I started to hear whistling and thought, “Am I starting to hear things?”  Is there some sort of whistling creature that I hadn’t been told about?  It turned out to be three friends hiking to the base.  A good distance seperated them from each other and they were whistling to keep in contact.  Great guys.

Turning a corner, I could see a part of the Colorado that I hadn’t seen before, and the bridge that I would soon be crossing.  I was getting pumped and nothing was holding me back from this goal.

The Colorado was emerald green and from afar, I could see the silt churning in the strong current.  Soon I would be dipping my feet in those waters.

I crossed the bridge at a slow soaking-in-the-moment pace.  I was, in fact, at the base of the Grand Canyon.  A place MANY have been but I never thought that I would be.

Now on the other side of the Colorado, I moved towards my ultimate goal – Phantom Ranch.

To the left was the boat beach and then an Anasazi ruin site that dates back about 800 years – very cool.  A sign pointed me in the direction of the ranch.  It ended up being set back away from the river and along the Bright Angel Trail.  Beautiful setting.

And that was that.  I came.  I saw.  There was a strong odor of mule.

Heading back out, I stopped to put some calories into my body and refilled my Camelbak.  I baptized myself in the Colorado…just the feet.  Then I looked forward and up.  I prayed for an elevator to appear…

So, I started my ascent.  Soon, I would run into a ranger who asked with great concern, “Are you heading back up?”  I said yes and she gave me a “you’re crazy” look.  I gave her a convincing, “I’m good.”  It was convincing enough, anyway.  We parted with her saying, “Okay…there’s no water!”  I was good – I stunk but I was good.

I should, at this point, tell you that my pace throughout was more hiking than running.  And my running (which was pick-and-choose whenever I could) was more double-timing.

Midway up, I was starting to feel the burn – both from the workout and the sun.  Every once in a while clouds would allow for some shade, but was hoping for that rain.

I came to a girl who was sitting on a rock – I received my second “bonjour” of the trip.  Then I came to a group of 4 ladies and I heard one say, “You’re giving us inspiration!”  Hearing that gave me some, as well.

I recognized that I was about a mile from the top and I took a drink from my Camelbak – I was out of water.  You should always listen to park rangers.

The steps towards to top are the worst and I had hit them all, twice.  My legs were becoming Jello-like.  But I perservered and came out on top, running – it just took me a little over 5 hours to do so.  Phantom Ranch had been conquered and one more thing has been checked off my list.

As I sit right now, my hip-flexors are VERY sore, as well as my right plantar fascia.  I’m a hurtin’ unit but will be moving on to my next stop…Vegas!  Looking forward to tomorrow and meeting up with the Valley Striders Running Club!

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Charity of the Day:  Sierra Club

Established in 1892 by John Muir, the Sierra Club is America’s oldest grassroots environmental organization.  Check out their website and see how hard they have worked for wilderness and wildlife.  Great info!

Song of the Day:  “Weathered” by Creed