I always enjoy doing short hikes after work when time and daylight allow. When I saw this posting from one of the area Meetup Groups to Dry Pond, I thought it would be a good opportunity to get a few miles in and learn a new trail. Pulling into the designated meeting spot, the hike leader immediately came by and confirmed that I was there for the hike. I then followed him over to the trailhead, which was only a couple of miles away. We were on trail by 5:45pm, which gave us plenty of time to get back by dark.
The Dry Pond Trail is a relatively recent addition to the Washoe Count trail system. It actually connects the Thomas Creek and Rim-to-Reno Trails to the Jones-Whites Creek trail system, which departs out of Galena Park.
As we start down the well maintained path, the narrow but rapidly flowing Thomas Creek parallels us offering a nice soundtrack to our adventures. In total we are a party of five, plus two well-behaved and friendly pooches. A number of trees have been taken down by the forest service along the trail, most likely in an effort to keep the trail safe from falling debris. Many of the logs have made their way into the creek and now create small obstacles and waterfalls to add character.
At about 1.5 miles in, we leave the Thomas Creek Trail and turn onto the Dry Pond connector. From there, we follow a number of easy switchbacks up the shallow mountainside, finally arriving at Dry Pond. Given the above average snowfall this year, we all expected a little bit of water to remain in the pond, but Mother Nature has taken it all and the pond lives up to its name. It is a really beautiful sight though, with Slide Mountain and Mount Rose in the background.
We linger for a short time and decide to head on. My companions choose to circle around the longer way, but as I have a concert to get to later this evening, I bid them happy trails and turn back the way we came. I double-time it back and as the trail is so well maintained, I get distracted looking at something on my phone just in time to roll my ankle on a loose stone - OUUUCCCHHHH!!! That was a pretty bad one that I'm going to regret on Saturday, as I have a run to do in Downtown St. Louis. Stupidity on my part - pay attention to the trail, not your phone! Anyway, I arrive back at the jeep in a bit of pain, but in one piece. I covered just about 5 miles in total. I would like to return to this trail sometime soon and do some trail-running, as I have been passed by a number people this evening taking advantage of the easy grades. For now, I will go home and wrap my ankle and hope for the best.
While this post is far from a description of a hiking or backpacking trip, I thought the adventure of my first half-marathon was a worthy topic to post on, especially given the runs location along the eastern shore of Lake Tahoe.
With my recently increasing interest in organized running and my participation in and completion of the Reno-Tahoe Odyssey, a half-marathon seemed like the next logical step. I had heard about the Rock Tahoe event last year from some friends that had completed it and given the gorgeous setting and overall description of the organization, it seemed like an amazing race to start with. I had registered a few months back and been on a pretty regular training regiment, running 3-4 times a week of varying, but increasing distances. The 13.1 mile course of the half-marathon was still a bit intimidating to me though. As this was my first attempt at such a distance, I had set a personal goal of simply running the entire distance, as opposed to walking any of it. I also had a goal time in my mind of 2:45 for completion.
The night before the event, I had been helping out some friends at the BBQ, Brews, and Blues Festival in downtown Reno. Pouring for one of the local distributors also meant free access to all the beer I wanted, but I tried to be smart about it. Still 4:00 am of race day, rolled around way, way too early. I rose, stumbled into the shower and got ready for the race. I arrived at the Hard Rock Casino in Stateline, NV at about 6:30 am, which was pretty good timing as the shuttle to the starting line was scheduled to depart at seven. The air was cold and a very light mist fell on us, though the sky above was as blue as it ever is at Tahoe with just a few white clouds in the sky.
At the starting line, DJ's, cheerleaders, drones and other assorted staff kept the large crowd of 1500 runners pumped up leading into the start time. There were actually two groups of runners. The slower group had started their run an hour earlier at 7 am, while my group, which consisted of those expecting to average better than a 12:45 mile were scheduled to start at 8 am. As the clock ticked down, we crowded into starting positions and at the horn, 1500 brave souls departed Spooner Lake and started the downhill of US 50 heading into South Lake Tahoe.
Though this downhill section made for good time, I wanted to try and maintain a pretty consistent pace. After the first couple of miles, I found that I wasn't even breathing hard, which was nice given we were running at 7k' above sea level. Passing the first of many aid stations, I ran right though, though the volunteers were ready with water, electrolyte-rich sports drink, caffeine jellies, etc. They truly do a wonderful job of trying to help ensure each runner completes the race.
At mile six, I finally decided to take a small paper-cup of sports-drink. Finishing it in just a couple of gulps, I was back on the run and seemed to be slowly passing some of my fellow racers, which always pumps up ones confidence. Though my pace had been very consistent, I think it was just a matter of other racers tiring. At about mile eight, I noticed a woman walking, which I recognized. I called her name and asked how she was doing. She responded with a 'doing great' and cheered me on as I passed her. We have adjacent offices at work and had known each other were participating, but it was still nice to see a friendly face.
As we passed Zephyr Cove and started the steepest of the short uphills, I felt my knees begin to ache a bit, but it wasn't going to stop me. I pushed myself to keep going and keep pace. Finally about 2.5 miles from the finish line, the race path leaves the highway and makes takes some bike-paths closer to lake Tahoe and through a lightly wooded area. Seeing the lake in the distance has been inspiring the whole way, but not having to worry about car traffic was certainly a relief. That is not to say that it was dangerous. Given the magnitude of the event, officials had done a wonderful job of putting signs and barricades up all along the route, going so far as to black a full lane of traffic.
Still, it allowed me to focus on finishing with one less distraction.
As I climbed a steep hill, I could just faintly hear the sounds of the finish line. Music pumping and announcers cheer the racers on as they crossed the finish line one-by-one. Finally, it was in sight and I kicked it into over-drive pumping my pace up quite a lot for the last 200 or so yards. As I crossed the finish line, a volunteer placed a completion medal around my neck and I checked my time. My official time was 2:17:38 with an average pace of 10:31 per mile. This far faster than I had intended, but it made me feel very good to have done so much better than I had expected. The celebration at the end was outstanding. Sierra Nevada Brewery was handing out free beer, which I had to enjoy, while EMT's and other professionals tended to those in need. The announcer kept spirits high and I basked in the glory of having completed my very first half-marathon.
For my first backpacking trip of the year, I chose to explore the tallest peak in the Toiyabe Range in central Nevada, Arc Dome (11,781'). My friends Van and Bill expressed interest early in the year when we discussed a few trips and decided to join me. What an adventure it turned out to be. Using a trip and map posted on Backpacker.com as a starting point, I did further research and had adequately (or so I thought) planned a 26-ish mile loop in and around the tall peak, including a trip to the summit.
The drive from Reno, where all three of us live, to the Columbine Campground and trail head is about a 3.5 hour drive, including some rather gnarly roads and creek-crossings near the campground. We left Reno at about 3:15pm on Friday and made the drive out, including a stop for gas and umm . . . beverages. We arrived at the remote campsite to find a nice large plot with a creek running directly behind it. There were two other campers there, but they pretty much kept to themselves. We pitched our tents and proceeded to get a campfire going. I had inquired with the Forest Service a few days before for fire restrictions and was informed that there were none at this time. Over the course of the evening, we enjoyed our rum and beer . . . err . . . umm. . . beverages over the campfire while giving each other a hard time about past trips, trips to come and live in general. It was a pretty standard drunk friends around the campfire evening. Eventually, we bedded down for the night and enjoyed the calming sounds of the creek rushing past as we dozed off into dream land.
We had decided that it wasn't necessary to get too early of a start, as we were only planning on going about 11-miles on Saturday and the weather was suppose to be calm and clear (never trust a weather forecast). Breaking camp and hitting the trail by about 7:45am, we started into the Arc Dome wilderness. The trail starts with a fairly steep section through some beautiful quaking aspen or 'quakies' as most people in the Nevada call them. Many of the trees display reminders of the sheep and cattle herding history of the region with carved initials, names and dates weathered and aged into the trunks. All throughout the high-desert of Nevada this can be seen, mostly produced by the Basque ranchers that have inhabited the area for the past century or so. Regardless of the marks, the forest here is still lovely.
Onward and upward we go, making our way towards the mountain itself. We reach a large sagebrush flat between two hillsides after crossing a moderately moving run-off creek and begin making our way around and up the adjacent hillside. As we reach the top, we start seeing snow patches. It was a good year in Northern Nevada with regard to precipitation. Off in the distance, Van spots a heard of grazing wild mustangs on a far off mountain top. An amazing site to behold. The valley separating us from the beautiful animals is vast and so they appear as colored specs on the distant hillside, but there is no doubt of what we are beholding. We pause and bask in the glory of this painting come to life for a few minutes before moving on.
The trail forks here and with the snow we are tramping through we struggle to find our turn slightly, but eventually do find the correct one. In the distance we can see the mighty mountain, as the wind starts to whip into us pretty hard, we tramp through a mud and snow soup and gray clouds gather in the distance.
As we reach the saddle just below the summit, we have becoming increasingly concerned about the weather. Storms have a way of just popping up at these elevations and we ponder our choices. Option one below us, is a snow ridge overlooking a crescent valley. While we can't see from this angle, we all suspect that the snow has formed a wind-blown cornice. Given the volume of snow and the steep hillside below, it is an avalanche waiting to happen. Not a good choice. Option two involves dropping our packs, gear up for winter/summit conditions and heading for the top, but as snow begins to fall on us and the wind picks up even more, we decide that would also be an unwise choice. We decide upon option three, which is to continue up the ridge towards the summit until we find the cut-off trail and then make our way down into the valley below the mountain. It means we won't get to summit this trip, but safety must always be the primary concern and these conditions are not safe.
We look around finally find signs of a trail on the other side of the snow ridge, we make our way to the least wide portion of the snow field and slide our way down to the trail. It's slippery and somewhat dangerous, but better than our other alternatives. As we descend the trail remains difficult to stay on as random snow patches cover it here and there, but eventually we reach the top of green knoll below the mountain top, as the snow has given way to a light misty rain. We continue along this ridge for a while, but soon completely loose the trail. Knowing that trails are generally cut parallel to creeks and washes, we cover a mile or more along the side of the mountain, slowly descending toward the creek below. Eventually, we decide to go for it, and carefully slide our way down to the bottom. It's a long descent, a few hundred feet at least, and the steep incline and loose gravel/shale makes it somewhat treacherous, but eventually we reach creek.
We take a couple of minutes for a water break and to get some energy in ourselves, before heading down the canyon towards where I believe we will be able to pick up the trail, the junction of this drainage into a larger creek. Finding the trail near this confluence, we continue back northward. The rain has stopped and started multiple times all the while.
Now circling around the large knoll we just descended we make pretty good time as the trail is in pretty good condition here. Eventually, we reach the junction of another canyon as the rain clouds start to look angrier. We begin looking around for either our cut-off trail on the other side or a place to bed down for the night. Not finding great choices for either, we stumble across a large marshy area, which has a few dry patches. As we survey the area looking for the best spot to pitch our tents, we encounter two other backpackers in the process of putting their tents up. We talk about the trails briefly, but it seems they are even less familiar with them than we are. Finally, we decide on a spot with lots of grass, which will provide some extra padding for our backs. Just a few yards away, we encounter something a bit vexing. Someone has placed a large truncated pyramid-shaped cage around a tree-trunk that appears to have been gnawed down by a beaver. We ponder why someone would have taken such an action, never arriving at any good answer.
Just as we get our tents erected, the rain starts coming down even harder and we each hop into our respective tents to weather the storm, guessing it will last through the night. While I dislike being rained on when camping, I'm curious to see how my new tent performs. A couple of months back I invested in a high-quality, ultra-light backpacking tent and this is my first out with it. Weighing in at only a pound and a half, the tent is surprisingly roomy and stable. I consume a few of my dry snacks, study for an upcoming certification exam and doze in and out of sleep as the sky darkens with night and the rain continues to fall at a constant rate.
I wake about 5 am to birds chirping and a fair amount of condensation on the mesh inner-lining of the tent, but it seems to have held up to the rain very well, as the rain cover has kept all of the actual rainfall off me and my gear. As it is cold and wet outside, I do as much packing and prep from the warmer zone inside my tent as possible, before finally putting my hiking shoes on and stepping out into the wet grasses. My companions have been preparing similarly, and after leaving our respective tents, quickly pack up and hit the trail.
While Saturday was a hard day with the altitude and snow, Sunday would prove to be much more difficult and treacherous. We start the day fairly calmly, as we continue down the canyon we started on. After a small creek crossing, we reach a fork in the trail. The left appears to go up a parallel canyon back towards Arc Dome, while the right cross another side-creek and continues north. We look at our map and decide to go right across the creek.
We can tell that Bill is not feeling well, as he begins lagging behind and frequently stopping to catch his breath. We ask him about his condition and he prompts us to continue on. Eventually, we reach an expected switchback and Van and I go to a nearby run-off to fill our water supply, while Bill rests. His condition has worsened a bit and I begin asking him a number of questions trying to get an idea of what might be going on. I think he has gotten dehydrated, which seems to fit all of his current symptoms. We begin prompting him to take constant sips of water as we hike up the tree-covered hill towards the summit of the North Twin. Reaching the top, we walk into a calm little grass and tree-covered flat, and take a moment to rest after the climb. Rejoining the trail on the other side of this saddle, we make our way down into the next valley. This, as I would discover after we returned home, was our big mistake.
At first the trail is calm, though a bit muddy, but we soon encounter the first of many, many roaring creek crossing we will be required to make. From the rain and dew on the foliage, our lower halves are already pretty wet and so after about the third creek crossing, we just give up looking for logs or rocks to cross and just plunge into the cold mountain stream. Bill seems to be feeling better, but the weather is getting worse. We toss on our rain covers to do our best to keep our gear and electronics dry, as we continue down into this canyon.
The trail meanders back and forth across the raging creek waters, as we cross five or six more times. Each time we cross, the water seems to be deeper and moving more swiftly. Stopping at a small, but angry waterfall, we look for a reasonable way to cross without plummeting to our deaths, and eventually decide upon a route that forces us to climb over some large boulders that came down as part of a rock slide at some point in the past. Normally, this is the type of terrain I would love to play on . . . though with a 35-ish pound pack, rain coming down and a raging creek flowing over the rocks, it's not idea. If there was one point on the trip where I was most concerned for my safety, this was it. We carefully maneuver over the refrigerator-sized rocks. As we cross over one small stretch, Van notices the creek water flowing rapidly over what could be carved steps below us. Finally reaching the bottom of the pile, we discover that the 'trail' has become an overflow for the raging snow-melt/rain and that those actually were steps.
Having lowered ourselves down 5-6 feet in a couple of place to pass this obstacle, we realize there isn't really any going back now, which becomes more of a concern as we look for any familiar peaks nearby and find none. In fact, all of the faces is in this canyon and beyond as far as we can see are rock-covered, as opposed to the green tree-covered hills we came in on yesterday. Without any other recourse, we continue down the canyon. The rain has picked up and we are forced to cross the creek again and again and again. Soon, we come upon a large forested area and discover a number of forest-fashioned corrals. The cattle tracks, ropes and stone-fire rings make it obvious that this is a cattle camp from sometime in the past, but who knows how long ago it was used. The corrals are made up of fallen or down aspen logs stacked on top of each other. It is an interesting find out here in the middle of nowhere, but we struggle to find the exit from this clearing as we search the perimeter. Van finally finds it and we move on.
More creek-crossings, more rain, more damp foliage, more rock scrambling, a few cattle remains, and a few more miles, before we finally reach a trail head, but not the one we were hoping for. We are all soaked to the bone as we exit the canyon and hit the main valley floor. Passing through a campground along the gravel and dirt desert road, we try to get a bearing of where we are. Unfortunately, we are completely turned around and soon discover, with the aid of compass and map, that we have actually popped out on the eastern side of the Toiyabe range instead of returning to original campground, Columbine, on the western side of the range. We know there is no going back and while we might have prevented this by more frequent map and compass review, the terrain and weather made it less of a concern. It is certainly a concern now though, as we cannot possible hike back up that canyon and are roughly 100 miles to campsite where we left Van's jeep by car. We walk about three miles down the dusty road back road out to highway 376 and start thumbing it. Pretty quickly, a local rancher offers us a ride up the road a ways. The nice gentleman ends up taking us a few miles further than he had planned and drops us off at Kingston Station, which is till in the middle of nowhere, but at least has some buildings we can shelter in should the approaching dark clouds decide to continue pouring on us.
There isn't much traffic on these old desert highways, probably a car passes once every 5-10 minutes, with most going the opposite direction of where we need to go. After being rejected by many cars speeding by, a commercial truck stops and asks where we're trying to get to. We summarize our plight and tell him that we would be most grateful if he could get us up to the town of Austin, about 15 miles ahead. He rearranges a few things and welcomes us and our packs aboard. As we make our way to Austin, he tells us a number of humorous stories and also informs us of the terrorist attack in Orlando, which we were completely unaware of, having been in the outback for the past two days.
Arriving in Austin, we hit the local gas station/food mart and scarf down a few calories. While Van talks to a couple of locals getting gas, I make my way up the street to one of the local bars asking if anyone would be willing to take us to our Jeep. We had agreed at this point, to offer up $100, as it's a 50-ish mile drive from here over some rough terrain and a couple of creek crossings. The son-in-law of one of the bar maids ends up agreeing and as we toss our packs into the back of his FX-150 and climb inside the roomy passenger cab, we make our introductions. As we drive towards the Shoshone community of Yamba, the dark clouds begins tossing lightning bolts at he ground and the rain picks up again. Luckily, Matt, our new friend, is undeterred and drives us all of the way to the campsite, through the mud and creeks and everything. He waits for us to start the Jeep and we thank him for his kindness with the promised payment.
Uncovering the jeep, and tossing our packs in, we start back down the way we just came, but this time with Reno as our end destination. It was one harrowing adventure, but it was certainly fun and I'm glad for the company I had with me. In total, we hiked about 26 miles over the two days, with the majority on Sunday. While didn't summit Arc Dome, we walked (or hobbled) away with quite a story to tell. And now for the cold ride back in an open-topped Jeep!
A couple of years ago, I started running during the winter to maintain some level of fitness in the off-season. As I got into it more and more, I began running local 5k's for charity and other events. I found that I enjoyed it and also, that I felt really good being able to run longer distances without collapsing from lack of breath. I learned a year or so ago of a rather 'hard-core' relay race called the Reno-Tahoe Odyssey. This race challenges teams of 12 runners to run three legs each, totaling 178 miles as the official path circumnavigates Lake Tahoe and passes through the cities of Reno, NV, Carson City, NV, Virginia City, NV, Truckee, CA, South Lake Tahoe, CA and several other smaller communities. The trick is that the relay is non-stop. In other words, one runner from the team is running at any given moment from the time the first one (leg 1) leaves Reno to the time the final (leg 36) returns to Idlewild Park in Downtown Reno. This means that some legs are run in the middle of the night and that no runner is able to get more than a couple of hours of sleep.
Early in the year, my search began for a team, as I wanted to participate in this gnarly physical and mental challenge. I utilized social media to put out a call, which was quickly answer by a former co-worker. His wife had just joined a team that still had a couple of spots remaining. I reached out and was accepted into the team. It turns out the team is home to several other former co-workers and is a well-oiled machine of organization, after having run the event the past 4 years.
Occasional team meet-ups began in late January to allow teammates to mingle and to begin planning for the event. In fact, this team is not a team, but two teams that work in tandem. This allows a total of 24 runners to participate and for each runner to partner up for each leg. The team captains had already started working out logistics for transportation, lodging, etc. After getting to know them, I was in awe of what great people I was going to be running with and how well they had planned every aspect of the 30-ish hour event.
When race day came, we had been divided up into 2 vans with 12 runners each. Those pairs of runners assigned legs 1-6, 13-18 and 25-30 would travel in van 1, while those pairs assigned legs 7-12, 19-24 and 31-36. Van 1 started their legs at approximately 9:15 am on Friday 6/3, while Van 2 would meet up at 1:00 pm and await the leg 6 runner to hand off the 'baton', which is actually a small, reflective wristband. Upon arriving at the designated meeting spot, we loaded our van with supplies (clothes, lots of water, snacks, etc.) and headed to Boca to await our first set of legs.
My first leg assigned section, was leg 10, which passes through Squaw Valley on the northwest side of Lake Tahoe as it gradually climbs into the Sierra Nevada. Total distance for this leg was listed as 5 miles, but when actually running, I showed it as 4.8. It wasn't a terribly difficult leg and I felt pretty good running with my partner, Sean. Luckily with the sun going down, it provided us with a lot of shade and the run wasn't overly hot. We completed it in respectable time and cheered our van 2 teammates on as they ran their sections. One of the great things about this experience is the camaraderie. Each van stays relatively near their runners to provide support in the form of water, vocal motivation, music or whatever else the current runner may require. After complete leg 12, we headed to a nearby cabin owned by the brother-in-law of one of our runners. There we were able to clean-up and get a couple of hours of sleep.
Rising to the call at a little after midnight, we quickly packed and headed to relieve van 1 and start our next sections, 19-24. Our team is much more about having fun while completing the event, than focusing on competing for the win, but nonetheless, we do take our runs and our times seriously. We rejoined van 1 in South Lake Tahoe, and watched a couple of our stronger runners power their way up Kingsbury Grade. This is one steep bastard of a section, with winding roads and non-stop incline. While it was challenging, they made it look easy. Continuing on, we knocked out the next couple of legs and eventually my turn came up again for leg 22 running through Genoa, NV. At 3:30 am, it was bit chilly at this elevation, but once running it felt pretty good. Obviously, it was still dark outside and wisely, the organization that manages the event mandates a number of safety protocols during the nighttime sections, including headlamps/flashlights, reflective/illuminated vests, etc. My section wasn't overly challenging, but it was 5.8 miles and included some up and down hill sections. I pushed myself a bit more on this section, as I was feeling pretty good. I was able to get a few 'kills', which is what it is called when you pass another runner from an opposing team. I arrived at the runner exchange about 8 minutes ahead of Sean and was glad for the time, which allowed me to use the restroom and hydrate.
We knew that Reno was suppose to reach temperatures around 100 degrees this afternoon (Saturday 6/4) and had heard that the RTO Administration had offered the option for all van 2 runners to start their last set of legs as soon as they finished their second set in order to allow early finishes and to hopefully avoid putting the afternoon runners in danger of heat stroke. This essentially means that van 1's runners would be running at the same time as van 2's runners for the final 12 legs. Completion times would be calculated by adding the times together. As we were a bit intimidated (rightfully so) by these scary temperatures, we decided to take advantage of the option, and skipped our rest. After finish leg 24, van 2 headed directly to Virginia City, NV and started leg 31. We pushed and pushed and pushed on each leg as we could taste completion. When my leg 34 came up at about 10:30 am, it had already reached the mid-80's, but Sean and I were determined to knock out it in style. With plenty of van support to keep us cool, wet and hydrated, I forced myself to run every last step of the leg, with Sean just a couple of minutes behind me. My times were not impressive, as I run high 10-minute miles on this 4.8 mile section, but I ran . . . I didn't walk, which was a personal goal for me.
Finishing our leg, we handed off to our next runners and provided significant van support as we sprayed our runners down with ice-cold water every 200-400 yards. It paid off, as non of our runners suffered any form of heat exhaustion. While supporting our runners of the final leg, van 1 showed up for double support as we neared the finish line. We met up near the finish line, and as our final two runners reached 50 or so yards from the line, our entire team of 24 runners ran across the finish line together. Glory was ours!!!
I admit that going into this event, I was a bit intimidated, but I was proud of my performance. I ran every step of every leg that I was assigned. I didn't walk, I didn't balk, I didn't back down. I'm not sure, but I think I am the oldest member of the team, having turned 43 just last week. The friendships I've made here, I expect will last into next years event and I'm grateful to all of the bold, kind and organized souls of my teammates for pushing us to such an amazing success. I look forward to next year!
