Unbound 2015: The Truest Grit

“You must pay for everything in this world one way and another. There is nothing free except the Grace of God. You cannot earn that or deserve it.”  Charles Portis - True Grit

I wasn't planning to enter the Unbound 200 this year. I told my wife that I would not enter for a third year in a row. After all I had accomplished my goal of beating the sun in 2014, despite 2 flat tires & hamstring cramps for 75 miles. No sir, this was going to be a year off from the requisite long & lonely training. But as entry day approached, circumstances conspired against my best intentions.

My friend John Bayley told me he was going to take another run at Unbound 200. He had finished on the podium in 2013. His resourceful & ultra cycling experienced wife Pamela would crew for him & me should I make the trip. Moreover the King of the Kanza, Dan Hughes, offered up a new prize: an engraved chalice (deemed the Gravel Grail) to anyone who finishes the race 5 times. If I could finish this year I would "only" have two more to go. It looked to be a very fancy trinket, and like most men I'm a sucker for fancy trinkets, especially if they are hard won.

So enter I did, despite my promise. My darling wife said "I knew you would". How she can know my mind with greater clarity than sometimes I do myself is a mystery.

Since this was the tenth year of the 200 Jim Cummins (the founder & promoter) announced that it would be a special celebratory edition with a new route. He deemed it the "Decade of Dirty". Sponsors chipped in with extra prizes. The weather a week before was as if Mother Nature heard about Jim's plans and said "if you want something special, Jim, I can give you special. Heck, I'll give you extra special"

Getting Ready

“If you want anything done right you will have to see to it yourself every time.” 

Charles Portis - True Grit

Last year I had arrived fit enough to compete, so I would use the same self designed training plan again. Yet another long cold winter in New England meant I did more skiing than cycling to get into shape. Even the spring weather was frequently more like winter. I trained through the Rasputitisa dirt road race in April. That event included a 3 mile long hike on a  snow packed trail. It would prove to be better preparation than I could foresee at the time.

My chief concern was not physical fitness. My concern was mental toughness. I know well that I have lost more races by quitting in my head than from my legs failing me. Rebecca Rusch's book, Rusch to Glory, was published at a useful time. I had not known that she was an accomplished adventure racer before becoming a 24 hour mountain bike champion. She is very candid in the book about her frustrations & self doubts, especially in races where the finish line was not hours away but days away. The remarkable talent she has is to quickly acknowledge then put aside self defeating thoughts so that they don't stop her, indeed they hardly seem to slow her down. Her epigraph might well read "Rebecca Rusch: mentally tougher than you"

Rebecca & me

In early April my plans got overturned. Pamela was diagnosed with cancer & would start chemotherapy immediately. Understandably she & John would not be making the trip to Emporia. I am confident however that if anyone has the resilience to beat cancer, it is Pamela. I decided upon the recommendation of Alby King to use the Never Let Go "crew for hire" service rather than try to recruit some long lost friend from Lawrence to support me. But this meant a substantial change in my preparation. My tendency is to go to bike races over equipped. I'd rather have a few things too many than one critical item too few. Yet the "crew for hire" program limited me to a 14"x14" drop bag for each check point. I would not enjoy the comforts of spare wheels, a suitcase of clothing choices, or a cooler stocked with whatever I might particularly like to eat & drink. But as Mattie Ross says in True Grit: "You know what they say, "Enough is as good as a feast.”" 

My drop bags packed with all I could fit & all I hoped I would need

The greater turn for everyone's plans was the rain. Thunder storms soaked Kansas in the week prior to the race. Emporia received over 4.5 inches of rain in the 10 days leading up to the Saturday. Some parts of Chase County received more, flooding river crossings & washing out roads. Yuri Hauswald posted on Twitter how muddy the 1st part of the course was on Thursday. I replied that this looked like just another cyclocross race at Gloucester, but one that would last 100 laps. Would that I had not been so accurate in my estimation.

Yuri's preview did give me an important chance to prepare. I remembered the mud we had to run through in 2013. I imagined that instead of 100 meters like then this hike could go on for much longer. I practiced shouldering my bike with the frame bag on. I also strapped a cleaning brush to my seat pack. Then I fashioned a small fender onto the handle from a soda bottle & duct tape. 190 miles in bike shorts soaked with mud & peppered with sand is a ride I would not wish on an enemy.

cleaning brush & chamois saver all in one

Friday I woke up in Emporia to the sight of more rain. I tried to wait it out but as morning was quickly slipping past I geared up for a wet preview ride. I only went 7 miles into the course but that was enough to confirm Yuri's warning. Early in the route we would hit a bog of thick mud. As the old proverb says: forewarned is forearmed.

Volunteers marked the course on Friday, yup, it was muddy

To my delight when I went to register a friend from New Hampshire was at the CTS tent. Thom Coupe who I've known since he was a junior racer is now working for Carmichael Training Systems. He was there as crew support for the CTS clients & Chris himself. We had a chance to chat & he wished me luck in the race. Sometimes a friendly face from home is all the encouragement one needs.

Thom Coupe, the other New Hampshire cyclist at the Kanza 

Before leaving for Kansas I put a few books in my bag for the flight. Without deliberation I included the latest Thich Naht Hanh book, "No Mud, No Lotus". In it Master Hanh writes that suffering and happiness are not separate, that "If we can learn to see and skillfully engage with both the presence of happiness and the presence of suffering, we will go in the direction of enjoying life more." I knew that in the day ahead I would find mud & suffering, but could I actually find happiness on this terrible route?

Section 1: the muddy way to Madison

“You go for a man hard and fast enough and he don't have time to think about how many is with him, he thinks about himself and how he may get clear out of the wrath that is about to set down on him.” 
― Charles Portis, True Grit

With almost 900 racers lined up for the long route, 300 more than the year before, I expected the first few miles to be furious. In slippery conditions it would be like pouring 20 lbs. of grease into a 5 lb. can. I made the acquaintance of Kris Auer on Thursday at the Sunflower Bike shakedown ride in Lawrence. Kris was known to me as a long time east coast cyclocross racer. An experienced wheel is always good to follow in a hectic race start. I had no shame in slotting behind him until we were a few miles onto the dirt roads.

The front group at mile 3, photo by Coverage Photography

Indeed once we turned onto the first dirt road outside of Emporia the pace became frantic. I pushed hard to stay in the lead group of 60 some racers. At mile 4 a slide out took down 7-8 guys. I narrowly avoided riding into the pile. Barry Wicks, hearing the incident behind him, hammered at the front to increase the split. He was pulling at 28+ mph, whittling down the lead group. I was satisfied to have made the split but knew we were only a mile from the bog. I deliberately backed out of the front group so as to avoid riding into the deep mud. I followed 5 seconds back with a few others. Sure enough when the leaders hit that bog bodies & bikes were thrown in every direction. It was as as if they had charged into a mine field. Before getting into the worst of it, I dismounted & shouldered my bike. I figured we would be hiking for a while. We hiked much longer than I figured.

In the trench, photo by Chad Ament

carrying & pushing. Photos by Chad Ament

Even anticipating the mud, I was surprised at the desolation around me. Guys were desperately picking away thick chunks with their fingers, carrying broken parts in their hands, or staring in disbelief at their destroyed bikes. I kept marching ahead passing stopped others. The mud was so thick it clung to my shoes making them look like Mickey Mouse boots. Some racers were pushing their bikes on the muddy track, or worse, through the tall grass beside the road. Both options risked that they would shred their drive trains. The mud grew thin enough to ride for a few meters, then it became thick again and we would have to hike. This continued for nearly 5 miles. Yet I came out of it with an intact bike and 185 miles to go. 

Once I was riding more than hiking I saw that the race was shattered. Ahead of me I could see very few racers, behind me hundreds were still slowly working their way through the bog. In years past there were still large groups riding together at mile 20, but not now. I expected a lonely day ahead. This was not the only of my expectations that turned out to be wrong.

I was feeling strong around mile 30 when none other than Dan Hughes caught up to me. I was surprised that he was behind me at that point so I called out to him. He said that he had been taken down in the crash at mile 4. His jersey looked like he had wrestled a pig & lost. Spotting his damaged shifter I asked if he was alright. He replied that he was good enough & his bike still shifted. After a few miles he increased the pace to one unreasonable for me to match. He pressed on in pursuit of the leaders. Dan finished 6th overall & won his age group. There's a reason he's King of the Kanza.

Dan Hughes pushing on in a mud stained jersey. Photo by TBL Photography

The remainder of the first section was uneventful. I had one flat tire, but changed it quickly. I passed a few people & was passed by a few more. My goal was to survive the first section with enough energy to race harder in the second. I arrived in Madison still in the top 30-40 racers. I quickly reloaded my food & water. The crew for hire folks were superb. I ate a few chips & pickles. I saw Rebecca leave the check point a minute before I did. I had achieved my goal of finishing the first section in a high position. I thought now I could catch Rebecca and race for an impressive result. But fate, as if responding to my lofty expectations, was about to knock me down a peg or three. 

Section 2: a long ride to Cottonwood Falls

“We must each of us bear our own misfortunes.” 
― Charles Portis, True Grit

Upon leaving Madison I spotted the familiar jersey of Essex County Velo, one of the larger New England clubs. I caught up to the racer and asked his name, Tom Catalano he replied. "Are you Cosmo's dad?" I asked. "No relation, but I know who you mean" he said. After a few more words I left Tom to continue my pursuit of Rebecca.

Tom was not the only racer I would get to know this day. Earlier in the slick mud I was riding with a guy on a full adventure race equipped Borealis fat bike. He was floating over the flatter mud sections but predictably slower going up hills. Each time I passed him I called out "Fat Bike Dude!" Eventually I learned his name was Joe, from South Dakota. I did not expect to see him again after Madison. I would end up crossing paths with him all day until mile 160. He was always a welcome sight. 

Joe Stiller aka Fat Bike Dude. Photo by Jason Ebberts/ TBL Photography

Only a few more miles on I had another front flat tire. I cursed myself by forgetting to use the floor pump in Madison to ensure my earlier tire change had enough pressure. Tom "not Cosmo's dad" went past me while I fixed it. I hurried to put the front wheel back in place & get back to racing. I hurried too much. Another few miles on I realized that my front brake was rubbing the rim. Again I stopped to adjust my brakes. A few miles after that I noticed my front skewer had come loose. I stopped to fix that too. All of these misfortunes were my own doing; there is no defeat like self-defeat.

When we left Madison I expected that we were through with muddy hiking for the day. I was wrong. At mile 90 or so we hit a section of farm track too thick to ride. It felt like a kick in the teeth. With no other option I shouldered the bike again to trot for half a mile. At the end of the mud there were some large puddles across the road. I stopped to clean my bike as did several others. It was the 3rd & mercifully final time I would unstrap my brush/fender. Dry roads were ahead and about 100 more miles.

More mud. Photo by Linda Guerette

The mud had not ended my race, but it did take a toll. My shifting had become as indifferent & unresponsive as a French waiter. I would down shift three clicks & the chain would move one cog, as if to say "I'm sorry monsieur, but zat is not ze gear for you, better to spin ze higher cadence, no?" When I tried to up shift it replied "Impossible! Can you not see I am fatigued, monsieur? You must wait now!" Eventually I discovered that if I tugged the housing after I shifted, the cable would move better. My bike wasn't running well, but it was running well enough.

A greater toll was paid by my knees. Miles of hiking and heavy pedaling with mud caked shoes made my bad left knee ache. I could not push as hard as I wanted to anymore. My pace slowed substantially. After an hour or so I remembered that I put 4 ibuprofen tablets in my bento box. I fished two out & eagerly swallowed them. I hoped these would be enough for a second wind.

Fate was not done with me yet though. I feared that my front tire was too soft from the earlier flat. Rather than use my last CO2 cartridge I put my mini pump on the valve. No additional air seemed to be getting into the tube. I threaded the pump hose onto the valve tighter, no difference again. In taking the pump hose off I unscrewed the valve core letting all the air out of the tire. I discovered that the pump's air chamber hole was clogged with mud. I used my last cartridge & prayed for no more flats before Cottonwood Falls.

In between my mechanical misfortunes and the groaning from my knees, there were moments of immense beauty. The misty weather gave a sheen to the landscape. Instead of the usual sapphire blue under an intense Kansas sun, the overcast sky allowed the tall grass to radiate a vibrant emerald green. Few people ever get to see how pretty the prairie is away from the highways & towns.

the prairie was beautiful when I could notice. Photo by Eric Benjamin

I passed Fat Bike Dude again about 30 miles outside Cottonwood Falls. For much of this stretch I was riding with someone in a black kit & using triathlon seat mount bottle cages, aka Tri Seat Guy. He looked to be struggling as much as I was. We had been riding into a steady 14mph headwind for 50 miles. As the saying goes; misery loves company. We chatted for a bit. The roads began to be familiar to me from the past course. I told him we were getting close to the end of this section as we neared Bazaar. He seemed encouraged by that. I believe he said his name was Scott, but I did not find out where he was from, nor can I confirm it. That is a shame since he was good company.

As the ibuprofen began to work I was able to increase my pace. I rolled into Cottonwood Falls knowing that I would not finish before sundown. I had hoped at Madison to ride the 2nd section in 5 hours, it had taken me 7. Yet the thought of 43 familiar miles to go lifted my spirits. I only had to push hard for 3 more hours.

Section 3: charging to Emporia

“Lookin' back is a bad habit.” 
― Charles Portis, True Grit

The "crew for hire" volunteers were even better in Cottonwood Falls than in Madison. Immediately they retrieved my bag, offered food & cold drinks. I was pleased to find a Red Bull in the cooler. The kind folks kept asking if I needed more. As I was attaching my lights, I told a volunteer in overalls about my clogged mini-pump. Without hesitation he said "I have a pocket knife, I might be able to clean it out". He did so in no time. I was so grateful I could have cried.

I took my last two ibuprofen and headed out. My plan was to steadily increase my effort until I could see Emporia. I knew that the final head wind section would be tough, 8 miles of rolling road with no shelter. I passed Fat Bike Dude a final time. He must have gone through Cottonwood Falls without stopping. But I no longer had time to chat, it was time to race.

I turned north into the long last stretch of headwind. A mile or so into it a pair of riders caught me, one wearing a CTS jersey. Recognizing a good situation I latched on to their pace line. After my turn at the front I asked "Are you Chris Carmichael?" Yes he was. I shared that I was a home town friend of his newest assistant, Thom Coupe. He said "Thom is a good kid". We continued to take steady pulls into the wind for the next 6 miles. Knowing Carmichael's strength & experience I feared that he would drop me. Still, if anyone could run a pace line it was him.

About 4 miles on a women bridged up to our group. She was churning the pedals at low cadence but had a mile wide grin. Her long blonde ponytail and strong pulls reminded me of my Swedish cousins, so I nicknamed her "Viking Girl". Just before the right turn toward Kahola our group caught 4 guys meandering up the track. One them recognized "Viking Girl" and said "her again! she's been wearing us out all day!" I replied "That's not what she told me, I bet she's about to drop you". That was all the spark she needed, because as we turned onto a steep grade, she attacked. I came around for a dig of my own. As we crested the hill I saw that we had a gap on the others.

April Morgan (viking girl) & me at the finishers tent

The next few miles were a series of short steep hills with rocky descents. I wanted to be at the front to pick my own lines. Viking Girl was on my wheel on the climbs, though she backed off on the descents. We had dropped Carmichael and the other guys. It was no time to slow down so I called back "keep the speed up Viking girl!". We passed a few more guys as we raced up & down the rollers.

She was off my wheel but in sight when we started around Kahola Lake. A family had set up a tent beside the road &amp offered up drinks to us racers. A young boy called out "Do you want a Coke?" "Sure I'll take that" I said. He seemed surprised as I snatched it from his hand without slowing. With under 20 miles to go there was no time for pleasantries.

About 4 miles outside of Americus I caught up to Tom "not Cosmo's Dad" Catalano and another fellow. As I came past them I told him to hop on my wheel. He jumped to it and replied "I'll try, but I don't have much left" I worked to keep the pace above 20 mph when the road was straight. I would pull for 3-4 minutes then follow him for a few. Just before town he drifted off my draft. I was stopped by a red at the lone traffic light in Americus. Tom caught back on there. We continued to trade pulls for another few miles out of town, but at some point he faded back. I did what I could to help him finish. I'm certain he'd have done the same for me.

At this point I could see the lights of Emporia in the distance. I pushed to keep my pace up while checking my Garmin for every turn. As I reached the ESU campus I stood out of the saddle for a final surge, but my legs were empty. Crossing onto Commercial Street the cheers from the crowd gave me a boost to pedal for the finish line. I slapped as many high fives with the kids lining the barricades as I could manage. I crossed the line & hoisted my bike above my head. I've never been so elated to simply finish a race.

In the finish tent, done & dusted. Photo by Eric Benjamin

Tom Catalano came in a little over a minute behind me for 5th place in 55+ men. April Morgan (Viking Girl) finished another 3 minutes back for 4th place in the under 39 women. In the finishing tent I learned April's name and that she's from Minnesota. Viking Girl may be the most fitting nickname I've ever accidentally coined. I hugged the race directors. I hugged Eric Benjamin. My 15h 48min. result was 92nd out of 427 official finishers, 19th in my age group. A little over half the 200 starters dropped out this year. I was in disbelief that I had finished that grueling course. To a degree I still am.

Afterwards:
"Was this what they call grit in Fort Smith? We call it something else in Yell County!"
― Charles Portis, True Grit

I was ushered over to the finisher's banner where I signed my name & wrote "No Mud, No Lotus". I met Corey "Cornbread" Godfrey there. He won the 200 once and has finished a record 9 times. I was happy to meet him this year simply as a fellow racer.

As my heart rate dropped I was quickly getting cold. I spotted Kris Auer & his new bride Amber in the crowd. Kris told me that he had held in the front group early on but destroyed his rear derailleur around mile 20. Amber had finished the 100 mile half pint. I begged them for a ride back to my motel. Although it was under 3 miles away I was so depleted it may as well have been 50. Kindly they obliged. 

Until now I have avoided any direct allusion to the book & films to which the title of this post refers. While I like the Charles Portis book & the Coen brothers film version as well, I have no love for Rooster Cogburn. Any man who claims to have "ridden with Quantrill" elicits  an immediate enmity from a Jayhawk such as myself.  In all honesty there is little in common between a story of two lawmen & a teenage girl seeking vengeance for her father's murder and an arduous bike race. But there is this: True Grit is not just a good western, nor merely a character sketch of the irascible Rooster Cogburn & the precocious Mattie Ross. The truth of the story is that only when Cogburn, La Beouf, & Mattie sacrifice the best of themselves to save each other do they find their true grit. I realized this year that no one finishes in Emporia by themselves. In the past I viewed this race as a solitary endeavor, strong legs & a stronger will was all that was needed to finish. But this year I was compelled to make new friends on route & in the end offer what little I had left to help others succeed. I was happy that Tom & April made the podium in their categories and proud that I had helped them in a small way. At the same time I could not have endured the challenges of this course without the aid of my fellow travelers. The truest grit is giving the best of yourself when it hurts the most without regard for repayment or reward.

The following day I was glad to meet my new friends at the awards breakfast. Both "Fat Bike Dude" Joe Stiller & "Viking Girl" April Morgan were seated near me.  That afternoon I stopped in Lawrence for lunch with my parents and to buy souvenirs at Sunflower Bike. I was surprised to see Colin "Mechanic of Kanza Champions" Earhart already back at work. He spotted me and said "You were flying coming into the first check point, what happened after that?" I told him of the mechanicals & knee issues that unraveled my race in the next 60 miles. "Still you finished, and this year that's something" he replied. It took that as high praise.

Collin Earhart & me before the race 

I will race the 200 again someday. The event is too tremendous to ignore or long avoid. I'd like to race for a better result, yet I know that it is only by the grace of God that I finished this year at all. The price of finishing is not only sweat & tears, but fortitude, humility, & faith. And at some point it requires grit.

I will likely not attempt it next year. But then again, I said that last year too.

P.S. I could not tell this tale as I would want without use of the photo's above, The professionals that shot them were very generous. Please take a look at their other work at the links below:


http://coverage.zenfolio.com/f972453570

http://www.tblphotography.com/2015dk200

http://www.lindaguerrettephotography.com/f374614369

http://adventuremonkey.com/

Black Fly Season Blues

Black Fly Season Blues

(sung to the tune of Folsom Prison Blues by Johnny Cash)

I hear the black flies buzzing, they're swarming round my tent,

and I've been out of bug spray, since I don't when.

I'm stuck in black fly season, and getting feasted on.

But those suckers keep on biting, the whole way to Gorham.

When I was just a baby, my Momma told me "Son,

Always wear your head net, and put some bug spray on".

But I swatted ten in Conway. Just to watch them die.

When I feel the suckers biting, I hang my head and cry.

I bet there's rich folk dining, up in a mountain hut.

They're probably watching croo skits, and sleeping in warm bunks.

But I'm down in black fly heaven, mosquitoes whining by.

I know I need some sleep now, but I can't shut my eyes.

If they moved me from this campsite, if the whole forest was mine.

Well then I'd move my tent up, a lot closer to tree line.

Far from black flies breeding, is where I want to stay.

And I'd let the alpine breezes, blow my blues away.

dedicated to CJ the caretaker at Nauman Tentsite and the '19 Hut Croo at Madison Spring

Bugged Out! the Whites Mountains in Black Fly Season

Bug Out: def. 1) to flee in a panic 2) to loose one's mind

Some readers may recall that I estimate the White Mountains to have 10 seasons. The 6th season commences in the middle of May, Black Fly Season. But a colder than usual May this year has meant that flying insects stayed dormant for an extra week or so. If it were named accurately this season would be Black Fly/Mosquito/Gnat/& Tick season since all of these pests emerge about the same time. When delayed by a few weeks the ravenous insects seem to explode from the forest floor like a Biblical plague.

Indeed this Black Fly season has been close to an Old Testament smiting. The mosquitoes are like a zombie horror movie; kill one and three more pop up to feast on your blood. The black flies have been just as hungry and almost as numerous. But the ticks are truly legion. Ticks also carry the most dreaded diseases. Friends of mine came home from an afternoon of trail work with a dozen ticks on their person. Almost every day we've been out the past few weeks someone finds a tick during their shower. Of the many ways to lose a nights sleep finding a tick crawling on my body after I've tucked in to bed is in my top 3. I had the misfortune to reaffirm this last Sunday.

So what is an intrepid mountain traveler to do? We could wait for the first hard frost, but that is a good 4 months away. Although swarms of blood thirsty insects do make me wistful for snow & ice, hiking in sunshine & shorts is too pleasant to pass up. At some point we must confront these swarms. This is a reminder of methods to keep the bugs from making you bug out.

1) Out run them. Black Flies and Mosquitoes are actually slow but persistent creatures, again much like zombies. When moving faster than 10 mph they cannot touch you. Even at 3-4 mph an hour they have a hard time keeping up. I've heard some folks joke they sprint up to treeline where they can then enjoy a leisurely hike. But not all of us can run that fast over rooted muddy trails, and most of us need to stop sometime. When stopped, even for a few seconds, the bugs will start biting.

2) Pick your Days. Biting insects are sensitive to the weather. Cold and rainy days are not mosquitoes favorite. If the winds are high black flies cannot fly. Ticks begin to die off if the weather is hot & dry for a stretch. But not all of us prefer to hike when it's rainy and windy just to avoid the blood suckers.

a head net can make all the difference

3) Dress for Success. Those grey haired old time hikers wearing long sleeves, long pants, and big brimmed hats in June; they know something about keeping the bugs away. The standard advice for keeping ticks & biting insects off when I was a Boy Scout included tucking your pant legs into your socks and buttoning down your sleeve cuffs. That old advice still works. Add a head net to the ensemble and the bugs can't close enough to bite. Philip Werner wrote a great article on dressing for bugs this week. I have and cherish an Original Bug Shirt from my guiding days. Just a head net and a loose long sleeve shirt can be enough insect deterrent on many days.

gaiters work for ticks as well as mud and snow

Not everyone wants to keep the shorts in the drawer until August. A US company has engineered insect repellent clothing. Supposedly these garments are coated with a secret sauce that keeps ticks and other nasty critters away. I have not tried any of the Insect Shield items from Ex Officio or Outdoor Research. But some folks swear by them.

4) Practice Good Scents. The other old time technique is to apply scents that bugs find offensive. Several companies make herbal insect repellent. Most are combination of citronella oil, cedar, peppermint, and/or Geranium oil. Recently I read about a study that Lemon Eucalyptus oil is as effective as DEET in repelling mosquitoes. Some folks still swear by Avon Skin So Soft, but I have never had much luck with that lotion. The other effective scent I've heard of recently is putting Bounce dryer sheets under one's shirt collar. But again this is a technique I've not tried. My personal choice has been White Mountain Insect Repellent, usually available at the local Tractor Supply store. But I may give something with a high Lemon Eucalyptus Oil concentration a try soon.

5) If you can't beat them, Nuke them. If all else fails most folks grab the heavy weaponry, chemical warfare. DEET works, but it is toxic and absorbs through skin. Permethrin treated clothing also works. But the reason it is used only on clothing, not directly on skin, is that it may be more toxic than DEET. Personally I will try everything else before resorting to DEET. If you do use DEET consider spraying it on clothing, not on skin. I only consider using Permethrin when I'm going to be moving slowly in tall grass areas like on trail work days, i.e maximum tick risk days. 

Frankly I go with a combination of strategies during Black Fly season. If it is a windy day on the ridge, I'll sometimes race up the trail trying to outrun the blood suckers. This time of year I usually keep a head net in my front pocket until needed. If I'm in a tick prone area I will wear long pants and gaiters. I carry my Bug Shirt in my pack until August just in case. I often use my favorite herbal bug dope on my neck and face. But if the mosquitoes or ticks are very bad, I'm not above spraying my pants legs with DEET.

Regardless of the combination, we do not need to be thwarted by the insect hordes. Dress right or slather on your favorite lotions or just race up above the trees, but find your peace one way or the other in the mountains. 

A Bad Walk Improved: the difficulties of White Mountain Trails

“I took a walk in the woods and came out taller than trees.” – Henry David Thoreau

Mark Twain supposedly quipped "Golf is a good walk spoiled". Apparently it was a common sentiment in his day. It is also one with which I entirely agree. While I have many family members who enjoy their time on the links, it is not my game. I can think of dozens of activities I'd rather devote myself to than slashing at a little white ball with a very expensive stick. No matter how serene the setting I realize that the frustration of playing golf ultimately could ruin an otherwise pleasant day.

Straight up the fall line with my 2 mountain goats

No my preferred outdoor activity is scaling mountain peaks. In most ways hiking is the polar opposite of golf. Instead of expensive clubs a hiker can be content with almost any found stick. Rather than complicated rules, the climber simply seeks to reach a peak safely. While golfers enjoy riding in a cart between shots, a hikers one requirement is that they walk every mile. While golf courses are carefully designed & landscaped, the mountains are as we find them.

Perhaps that is the one aspect of golf that stirs a small amount of envy, grounds keepers. While courses themselves do not impress me, the grounds keeping crews do. Golfers enjoy the constant work of grounds keepers trimming and maintaining their outdoor playgrounds. Hikers on the other hand often do much of this work themselves. Even where professional trail crews maintain certain paths, their work is seasonal and devoted only to the most needy areas. Would that we had full time grounds keepers on the hundreds of miles of White Mountain trails.

a river runs down the trail

But we do not. In fact compared to other regions, White Mountain hiking trails are terrible. They are terrible because the frequent violent winds drop trees across our paths. The trails are horrible because many of them were cut a century ago when the idea of getting to the top meant going straight up the fall line. Trails in the White Mountains are rough because their geography puts thick snarls of tree roots at the bottom, countless water crossings in the middle, and chunky granite scree fields at the top. Much as I love these hills the trails through them are often terrible footing; a knee crushing, hard scrabble, heart pounding, ankle twisting bad walk.

But that is also the challenge of reaching all the White Mountain peaks, it is overcoming those high natural barriers. To climb any New Hampshire 4000 foot peak is no casual walk in the park. Like many experienced White Mountain hikers I am confounded by folks who come to the trails dressed for a mild stroll. These mountains mean business when one gets up close to them. The trail obstacles often makes getting up and down a test of fortitude. AT thru-hikers will half their daily mileage in the Whites due to the severity of the terrain. Whether you are undone by the distance, scared of slippery water crossings, gripped by exposed rock scrambles, or caught off guard by high winds & snow up high, these mountains have something to put the fear into you. By overcoming all these challenges one gains a true sense of accomplishment.

still snow between the peaks

Because of the rigors on these trails, I must devote my full concentration to hike them. My attention is required from the moment I begin to prepare at home to the minute I am back at the car. I find a sort of zen in walking these trails. I can not think too much about anything off the trail while hiking. But my focus on the mountain has a different quality than attention to work. Instead of being wearied by this concentration I am invigorated. I feel my mood and mind improved after devoting myself to the trail for a day.

do not trip in the root traps

Last Sunday I hiked the Hancock's with my two regular companions, a.k.a. my little mountain goats. The Hancock's have a little bit of most things that the White Mountains offer. The beginning is pleasant, then the water crossings and mud are a little tricky, then the tangles of tree roots cross the trail, then it starts getting steep, then rocky, then extremely steep, and across the top it can be windy and/or snow covered. On a clear day the view of the Osceola's from North Hancock is spectacular. On Sunday we had all those things except the view which was obscured by fog. But we did find a spruce grouse on North Hancock who squawked and strutted around us for 10 minutes while we ate lunch.

The mud and slick rocks and steep slides and crumbling snow on the ridge made for one bad walk. Yet because we were out in the woods, met some other happy hikers, indeed just for the 9 mile effort, I came away improved. I expect I will find all that again on my next "bad walk" in the White Mountains. Lucky me.

and yet no place makes me feel this content

No Trophies Up Here: humility in the mountains

No one can say that weren't warned going above tree line on Air Line

There are no trophies in hiking. At least not like there are in competitive events, the sports that are on TV, or in the Olympics, or that we played in school. Yes there are the various peak bagging lists, and the patches or certificates for finishing them. But these modest tokens are not even as flashy as the trophies for winning in beer league softball. Mountain sports are different that way. They have no championships, no podiums, no medals. It is usually just you, your honor, your partners, and your own sense of accomplishment.

That does not mean that no one is keeping score. This is still a human endeavor. Between the multiple peak bagging lists, FKT's, first ascents, winter ascents, and other challenges we have ways of measuring our accomplishments in the hills. Ego and ambitions are not absent from those of us who play in the mountains rather than on a ball field. Most of us who climb have objectives in mind, peaks to reach, and goals we seek.

All those mile for a patch

These goals are almost incomprehensible to people who are not hikers or climbers. The incredulous question from some folks when I mention finishing the 48 White Mountain peaks is "you hiked all those miles for just a patch?" When the risk level is higher the lack of comprehension is greater too. "You've already climbed Mt. Washington, why would you do it in winter?" or "How could he/she leave their family just for a mountain, didn't they know it could be deadly?" "You do what with your kids? Don't you think that's dangerous?"

We know of course that climbing can be lethal. While it is easy to quote accident statistics, how it's more likely to die on the highway driving to the trail head than on the mountain, that is a blithe argument. The risk of death in the mountains is very real, and it is an overwhelming risk for the vast majority of people. Until 200 years ago that risk kept all but a very few lunatics from climbing the high mountains. The highest peaks are still fearsome places when the weather turns. Each of us who regularly play in the mountains do what we can to mitigate the risks. I often read and discuss incident reports with my son as a way of learning how mistakes occur, so that we can avoid those errors.  We train our selves physically. We equip properly. We go with experienced partners. We become students of the trails, terrain, and weather. We exercise the best judgement we can. 

The deadliest cue in the world, South Ridge Mt. Everest

However the risk always exists at some level in the mountains. This year has been particularly hard both in my local mountain range and further away. In the past week 11 people have died on Mt. Everest. While the pictures show a dangerously crowded route on the fair weather days, that is not the only reason for those deaths. When ambition outruns awareness and judgement in the mountains the outcome is often lethal. Too many people with too lofty goals and too little restraint at 8000 meters is a recipe for disaster. Locally we have also seen fatal accidents this season. Three people died in the White Mountains from December to April this year. Each was a very different sort of accident occurring to experienced people. While it can be easy to criticize the choices individuals made afterwards, their errors are ones that I can imagine most of us making. We shouldn't need helmets for walking the approach trail should we? Do we need to rope up now or can we a little climb higher? This slope almost never slides, I can ski it solo. Yet each of these simple mistakes led to someone's death this year. No matter how strong I feel I also realize that one slip resulting in a broken ankle or a quick accumulation of freezing fog and the mountain can become very serious.

The strength required to climb mountains is not only physical, but mental and emotional too. That emotional strength is not only pushing through fear or discomfort, but also understanding when to reduce ambition and retreat. There are days when the decision to turn back is more important than to push on, when continuing only leads to a dangerous situation. Humility is subtle sort of strength. Attempting to climb mountains will eventually humble almost everyone, when the wind picks up and the cold exposes your vulnerability above tree line there is no where to hide. The mountain has been here for millions of years before you or I, and it will still be there for millions of years after we are gone. The mountain always wins.

heading up to Edmands Col

Last Saturday I took my son and his best friend (co leading with her mother) on an ambitious route for 12 year olds. We planned to traverse the Northern Presidentials, the higher half of the full Presidential Traverse. While we started early, made good time up Airline, and felt fine on Mt. Madison, it was clear after Mt. Adams that we were not moving fast enough. We did go the harder path up Mt. Adams via Star Lake Trail. We also lingered too long at the Madison Hut. By the time we reached Mt. Jefferson we were 2 hours behind my plan and feeling fatigued. But it was a perfect weather day, so we were tempted to follow the plan and summit Mt. Washington. However that would get us down the Jewell trail close to dark, and home at 10:00 p.m. We also knew that a rain storm was forecast for 7-8 p.m. Once we rounded Mt. Clay the kids decided to descend. We skipped Mt. Washington rather than push on for another 3 miles. Half way down the ridge both kids said that their feet hurt, their energy was waning. They confirmed that was the right decision for this trip. 

last peak of the day

Perhaps that is the most important skill in mountaineering; assessing your present capacity and the conditions to decide when to descend, i.e. how to be humble. The phrase I've drilled the kids with all winter is "reaching the peak is optional, coming home with your fingers and toes is required". I expect that my little mountain goats will climb many many more mountains. We all love traveling in remote wild places too much to avoid them. I hope that when I no longer go with them on every trip they continue to make good decisions, that while they seek their goals it is always with humility towards the mountain.

Trail Head Parking Problems & Solutions

One great challenge in hiking the White Mountains during the fair weather seasons can be finding a place to park. For several years now the trail head lots at Lafayette Place & Pinkham notch are full to overflowing every weekend from June to October. I've often seen while driving through Franconia Notch dozens of cars on both sides of I-93 dangerously parked in the ditch. The New Hampshire State Troopers warned that they would begin ticketing or towing cars parked on the highway for the last 2 years. This past weekend they started issuing those tickets. Next weekend expect the same and roped off breakdown lanes.

cars lined out illegally on the Franconia Notch Parkway

But there are solutions to this parking problem. Below are my 7 ideas to beat the rush to the trail head lots. Of course the most obvious solution is to get there early. If you are at the trail head before first light you will likely be fine. Most weekend days I can find a spot until 8 a.m., but not always. If you are not inclined to true Alpine start times, read on,

1) Go Late. All those hikers who jammed the trails at 8 a.m. are typically done mid afternoon. If I arrive at a popular trail after 2 pm I usually find a parking space without problem. As June and July come around there is enough daylight to hike for 7 hours on this "second shift". Starting late though has risks. You need to be a speedy hiker to have time to reach the higher peaks. If you are delayed you will likely hike out in the dark so bring a fully charged headlamp. Any rescue situation may mean being out all night. This is not a good strategy for folks new to hiking the White Mountains or unprepared for walking in the woods at night.

Back Country camping to reach distant peaks

2) Stay Over. The best way to get an early start on the trail is to be there already. Whether you stay in a hostel, camp nearby, or backpack to a shelter/tent site you'll be closer to the trail. Lots of options exist for those willing to sleep near or on the trail, from the Notch Hostel, to the AMC Highland Center or Joe Dodge Lodge, to the Lafayette place campground or multiple WMNF campgrounds, to the AMC back country tent sites. Pick your level of comfort and luxury in accommodations. 

3) Take the Shuttle. The AMC has run a shuttle service from the Pinkham Notch Center and Highland Center for several years. Last year the New Hampshire State Park Dept. started a shuttle in Franconia Notch going from the Cannon Tramway parking lot to the trail heads, and it's only $5 round trip. If you don't want to meet the shuttle schedule you can also book a private shuttle through Trail Angels.

4) Ride your Bike. This is my favorite way to get to popular trail heads in fair weather. I sometimes park at Great Glen or Cannon and ride my bike to the more crowded trail heads. Bike racks at Pinkham Notch and Lafayette Place make this very convenient. But I've never had a problem stashing my bike behind a tree at other trail heads either. The distance from those large parking lots to most trail heads in less than 3 miles. In Franconia Notch there is even a dedicated bike path. I do carry a dry bag to stash my helmet and bike shoes which I attach to the bike cable lock.

5) Choose a Different Path. If you want solitude but still get to the more popular peaks choose the paths less traveled by. Go up Greenleaf or Skookumchuck to Lafayette rather than Falling Waters Trail. Take the long route up Great Gulf or Davis Path to Mt. Washington. Access the Presidentials by Edmands Path or the Castle Trail rather than from the notches 

6) Discover Other Peaks. The original goal of the AMC 4000 footer list was to reduce traffic on the Presidential Ridge and the Franconia Ridge. It is still a valid goal. Perhaps this is the weekend to make the drive up to Mt. Cabot? Or maybe it's time to do the long trek out to Mt. Isolation? If you want to take in the views of the most peaks a hike up Mt. Carrigain is always a treat on a clear day.

7) Carpool/ Car spot. If you are hiking with a group try to use a single vehicle. This requires coordinating plans, but one less car is more space for another party. If you have hiker friends doing a different route, perhaps you can arrange a car spot or car swap. A car spot is similar to taking a shuttle, but without the fee. Of course it is up to the goodwill of your friends to drive you to your favored trail head. A car swap takes a little more organization. If you know another set of friends is hiking one direction on a trail and you are coming up the other, swap keys and meet back in town. This can be complicated to plan but allows you to take more distant trails to get to the same objectives.

I have no expectation that the popularity of hiking the Franconia Ridge or the Presidential Peaks is going to diminish. Nor do I expect the WMNF to add more parking spots in sufficient numbers. In order to start your day out on the right foot, plan to get the trail with a minimum of frustration by having a parking strategy in mind. With that, walk in peace friends.

May is the Cruelest Month: the White Mountains between Seasons

Last snow. That’s what we’ll think for weeks to come.

Close sun sets up a glare that smarts like a good cry.

Last Snow - Heid E. Erdrich

In the White Mountains May, not April, is the cruelest month.

In April the snow is still thick to the trail head most years. 
You may have bare ground at home, but the mountains are still cold and deep in snow. It is in May that the transition begins, bare rock and mud appear at the start only to relinquish the trail to icy monorail or softening snow pack higher up. For those of us that love winter it is a time to mourn its inevitable loss. For those eager for summer it is a time of frustration at the lingering snow. Nothing is consistent or easy in these mountains in May.

Since my son decided to seek the grid, and his best friend now is interested in that goal for herself, we must get out when we can, regardless of the month. We thought that the snow will still be firm enough for a quick loop of the Tom-Field-Willey ridge last weekend. But May conditions are often anything but quick. We started out on bare dirt for the first time since last November. Just half a mile up the Avalon trail we found the monorail. While it was thick and flat at the start once the snow filled in the woods beside, the mono rail became balance beam narrow. The sides of the trail were littered with 3 foot deep post holes. The width of the mono rail kept shrinking until in sections it was like walking on a tight rope. Snowshoes were as useless as clown shoes would have been. I stepped side foot just like traversing a slack line top stay on balance. One slip off the hard rail meant sinking in to my hip.

slipping off the monorail can be perilous

But we were hiking. And the air temperature was warm enough to strip down to t-shirts on the way up. Winter is receding though not without a fight in the White Mountains. While Mud Season is in full effect and Black Fly Season is just around the corner in the valleys, the snow and cold are weathering the siege in the high peaks.

The lingering winter conditions are a cruel surprise to people from further away this time of year. We crossed paths with less prepared folks on each hike we've been on this month. The shivering and deer in the head lights look in their eyes was a dead give away that someone did not read the latest trail reports. I've seen too many guys in trail runners and shorts struggling down the trail in the snow. Their expectations of fair weather and bare trails ran ahead of reality. In fact there were two separate rescues of solo hikers in sneakers this past week alone. While flowers are likely blooming in your back yard, it is a different world above 3000 feet in the Whites.

mud, ice and deep snow are just steps apart at 4000 feet.

The cruelest part of May is how rapidly the conditions change. We've hiked up cement hard monorail in the morning only to return on melting lemon sherbet in the afternoon. I imagine that a few days after I post this cautionary missive folks will go up trails completely free of snow and ice. Then again, we could have a foot or more of snow hit the high peaks the following day too. The trail conditions sometimes change by the hour in this transition from deep winter to something like summer over the next few weeks.

still goofing means still enjoying the trail

So if you're anxious for summer, practice patience. If you yearn for more snow, be grateful for what is left. This is the season for being focused on the now. Prepare for everything, expect nothing, hike in the present. With that thought, friends, walk in peace, joy, and laughter.