Cascade Pass to Stehekin

Mornings such as this are to be remembered. I sit here with a view of Lake Chelan, the smoke mostly gone, my body tired but feeling pretty good, and I am surrounded by three people who love me. It's taper time, as I successfully completed my second biggest running event of the summer, Cascade Pass to Stehekin, as well as the always more difficult second long run the day after.

I turn on the Spot at the Cascade Pass Trailhead. John gave his final words of encouragement, and off I went at 5:29 am.

The run from Cascade Pass Trailhead near Marblemount, WA, to Stehekin, WA, was one of the easier trails I've run, and the scenery was majestic. The route began with a gentle and moderately technical 3.5-mile climb to Cascade Pass. I started at 5:30, so the sun was just brushing the peaks with a vivid wash of golden light, the half-moon still visible. As I approached the pass, the forest surrendered to an alpine landscape of purple heather and granite rock, the saddle swathed in light, shifting fog.

The approach to the pass is my favorite part! The heather was in bloom amongst the granite, and a light fog hovered on the pass.

I had the pass to myself, and paused briefly to take a photo before beginning the rocky descent on the eastern side. As I crisscrossed the mountain side north to south in short switchbacks punctuated with wildflowers, I noted the rush of wind or water each time I turned a northern reach. On the final switchback, the water made itself surely known, both in volume but finally in sight. To my delight, I had reached Doubtful Creek, for which there is no bridge.

The fog is mostly clear once I get to the pass, so I could see into the valley. 

Finally I see the source of the sound--Doubtful Creek. Because of the sun, it is hard to see the creek in this photo.

The slope there was steep, so my way across was simply one level in a many-tiered waterfall. Huge granite boulders created a pool less than a foot deep. I removed my shoes and socks, tied them together, and looped my vest strap through the laces so I wouldn't lose them. The water was refreshing and not too swift. John's reminder to face upstream came to mind as I waded across maybe four feet to where the boulder protruded from the water. I sat on the warm granite in the sunshine to take a few pictures with the Hero Session 5, and then worked my way around a second, deeper pool.

The waterfall at Doubtful Creek

Soon after, I encountered two backpackers heading up to the pass, likely getting an early start to beat the heat. Next came the junction with Horseshoe Basin where I turned right and continued descending. At this moment, I recalled that there are grizzly bears in the North Cascades, and wondered why that didn't freak me out! I entered a brushy area that soon opened up to a charming, bouncy bridge across Basin Creek. From here, I ran in and out of the brush and dry stream beds, picking my way carefully through the rocks. I talked out loud to myself to let any bears or other predatory creatures know of my presence.

The junction with Horseshoe Basin, which is straight ahead. My trail went down behind me.

My route down from the Horseshoe Basin junction.

The bouncy little bridge at Basin Creek

Around mile nine, I entered a tall forest and encountered Cottonwood Camp and bear scat (not fresh). The trail followed an old road bed for the next seven miles with a gently descending grade and fir needle-cushioned tread. It was easy running and it was fun to watch my average speed rise from 3.4 miles per hour to 3.7. I continued to run through brush, huckleberry, and forest, most of the time unable to see much, occasionally encountering a rocky streambed. I noted the berries on the bushes and resumed speaking my unprofound thoughts--"There's some Indian Paintbrush, there's some more granite rocks, stay focused, 'mind in boat.'" I talked to John, imagining that he was likely in Winthrop by now having coffee. I talked to my dad, too, asking him to keep watch over me.

The trail widens when it reaches what used to be the Old Stehekin Valley Road. The river was particularly pretty here, as it shoots through a narrow granite wall canyon.

All the while, the rush of the Stehekin River was by my side to the south, a constant comfort that there was water nearby if I needed it. I refilled my bladder after crossing a solid bridge at the aptly-named Bridge Creek. Eventually, I reached the junction with the Pacific Crest Trail and left the old road bed. After going downhill for most of 12 miles, it was nice to head uphill, and the return to real trail was not too punishing. Having not seen anyone for four hours, here I saw a group of eight or so backpackers, the last of whom advised me that the previous hiker they had passed had seen a bear at the upcoming creek. I heeded his warning by talking out loud to myself yet again.

This part of the route was entirely in forest, and I found myself in a grove of huge, ancient cedars. When I came to the junction where I could continue trail for another mile and a half, or take a short trail to the Stehekin Valley Road and High Bridge, I chose the latter since the tendon on the side of my left ankle was giving me a little trouble.

I was glad to have made the choice, since the river crossing at High Bridge was beautiful. I tried to take a picture but the GoPro was refusing to take pictures (and had been for quite some time). I believe it needs an update, as we have never done so since buying it last year. The last 13 and a half miles were on the road, which changed from gravel to pavement and back again numerous times. It seemed to go on forever. The ever-present river made a nice water stop. The day was getting hot, and shade less frequent, so the wind picking up was a welcomed treat. I knew it also meant that the boat ride from Chelan to Stehekin was rough and unpleasant for John, Dana, and Jill.

Eventually, I passed the orchard and the school house, and finally encountered the bakery where the red shuttle bus was stopped to let eager tourists make pastry purchases. I asked the driver how much farther to Stehekin, and she said two miles and asked if I was doing OK. I made up my mind to run the final two miles to Stehekin, as I was taking walk breaks at this point. I diligently stayed hydrated and while it was quite hot (90+ F), I felt pretty good. I was so happy to see the lake on my watch map--I saw it there before I actually saw the lake. Soon after, I saw Purple Point, my rendezvous with John, Dana, and Jill. I also noted the whitecaps on the lake and doubted that they had arrived yet. For one thing, I was half an hour early! I finished at nearly 1:30, just under eight hours. My speed averaged out to 4.1 miles per hour over the course of 32.85 miles.

I made my way to the bathroom where I changed out of my sweaty clothes into a bathing suit. I was reluctant to go into the cold water, not wanting to cause a heart attack. Truly, people lost in the desert have been rescued, only to die of a heart attack when someone hands them a cold bottle of water. The body can't take the shock. Instead, I dangled my feet in the water for a few minutes at a time and had my Tailwind recovery drink.

I was wary of getting chilled despite the heat, so I left the windy dock and went to the store and bought a Pelligrino and waited for the boat from my perch on the deck in front of the restaurant. I watched a large crowd board The Lady of the Lake, which pulled away at 2:00, heading for Chelan. At 2:20, I saw a boat approach (there was very little boat traffic due to the windy conditions), counted three people in the boat, and then saw Jill's signature coral outfit. I knew it was them and spread my arms wide as I walked across the parking lot to the docks. Because of the wind, they had trouble approaching. A man nearby saw what was happening and came over to help so I could hop in the boat. We thanked him, reversed the boat, and headed back for Chelan, 56 miles away.

Happy to be on the boat! 

Jill immediately presented me with grapes, nectarines, and apricots, and then a beer. I was so happy to be on the boat! We began the rough ride back. I was surprised to find that I was hot, even with the boat moving. (When we visited last year, it was cold enough on the boat to wear a sweatshirt and to cover my legs with a towel, and I hadn't been running all day.) The lake was littered with logs and branches and we hit one. The boat immediately lost power; the engine vibrated and sounded terrible. My stomach sunk, as I knew they would never have been out in these conditions had they not had to pick me up. We were still many miles from home with no one in sight. Dana decided to try limping back, which would take until dark. Suddenly, it seemed we hit another log, and two bumped along in our wake and the boat was abruptly normal. We think that the log was actually stuck somehow under or behind the boat, and when he bumped the second log, it dislodged. The boat was not harmed at all, thank goodness!

We capped the day with a fantastic Beyond Burger with lots of fresh toppings. It was so, so good! We all went to bed early, around 9:20.

The next morning, John and I got up at 6:00. I still had one more training run to complete. I planned to do 20 miles, heading up the hills that surround Lake Chelan. There is a dirt road the goes up steeply right behind Dana and Jill's house. John and I hiked together up it for three and a half miles, and then I continued on my own and began running. I ran out of road at seven miles, so I had to head back down, knowing I would have to complete my run on the paved road. Despite this, I was frankly relieved because the smoke was getting thick up there--there were two wildfires in the area at Entiat and Winthrop--and I was getting anxious about getting overtaken by fire.

John and I hike up the dirt road together for about three and a half miles. I continued running and he went back down the road.

Going back down the dirt road, it was quite steep the last two miles. I had to walk because my quads were so sore and simply spent. I wanted to cry, but then I told myself (out loud) to toughen up, Ellen! So I laughed at myself and kept going. Once back on the pavement, I had John meet me with some water, as I was almost out. The air was clearer down below, but the road has no shade and my legs were shot. I made a deal with myself that if I ran without any walk breaks for the next two and a half miles, that I could turn around and walk back to the house, topping out at 18.5 miles. I could have walked an additional mile and a half, but 18.5 put me at 71.5 miles for the week, significant because I have to do 71.3 on the PCT. I figured that was enough, and everyone was waiting for me so we could go to town and get coffee.

I was so happy to be done! John met me out at the top of the driveway.

The rest of the day, I hobbled around and enjoyed myself. We wine tasted, had lunch at Karma (vineyards and bistro), and then dinner at Sorento's. Though we only had a few vegan options, our meals were delicious! I had a green hummus, made from fresh-picked garbanzo beans and a flatbread with marinara and vegetables for lunch, and then pasta with artichokes, roasted mushrooms and tomatoes, olives, white wine and herbs for dinner. We had brownies and blueberry pie that I'd made at home for dessert! I woke up this morning feeling great with just a little residual soreness in my quads. I am taking a rest day, as Jill and John are hiking with Jill's friend Linda and Dana is walking to the store to get his blood flowing. I am looking forward to a day relaxing on the lake!

We get ready for a late dinner at a winery! The sun was red because of the smoke from the forest fires.

It feels wonderful to have accomplished my goal! I would love to hear what goals you have, and I am happy to lend any advice if I can. I know that my fastpack on Section J of the PCT is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, so I also welcome any encouragement or advice you may have!

Water! (Running in the Heat)

Today was my last long training run before the Cascade Pass-Stehekin run, and I learned some valuable lessons about hydration. I've run in the heat before, but not with as much elevation gain and therefore not as long. I spent half of my day dehydrated and light-headed, not to mention thirsty.

Today was slated to be a high of 86 degrees mid-afternoon, with the day starting out around 59 degrees. I got up at 3:30 to eat breakfast (a large piece of wheat toast with almond butter and half a banana), went back to bed, and got up for good at 4:26. Because I was having John shuttle me, leaving my car at Red Town Trailhead on Cougar Mountain and starting at Sunset Way at the base of Tiger--that's a lot of driving--I was aiming for a 5:45 start. Right on time--it was nice a cool when I started my run.

At the peak of Tiger 2, I found fresh tiny bear poop cylinders, and then shortly after starting down the TMT I found this pile. I was on alert and talked to myself from time to time.

On the Bypass Trail just beneath the summit of Tiger 1, I entered a dark forest with no undergrowth. It was similar to and in the same area as where I saw three bears several weeks ago.

Looking back on the Bypass Trail, which puts you on the summit of Wester Tiger 1, the dark forest is a stark contrast to the open top.

I've been to the top of Tiger 1 several times, but I've never had a clear day. I was delighted!

Trust me, Mt. Rainier looked huge from my vantage point. The picture just doesn't do it justice.

Tiger 1 has a "hiker's hut" with aluminum siding. I've never peered inside, assuming it is full of mouse poop. The Bypass Trail comes up in the dark area right next to the hut. I suppose it is for shelter from the rain.

I got a compression sleeve for my hamstring, and it felt great. I headed up the High School Trail from Sunset, and then made my way up West Tiger 3. By the time I got to the top, I had sweat dripping into my eyes. Note to self: wear a Halo headband to channel the sweat to the sides and keep it out of my eyes. I have at least five of them! I thought wearing a hat, I wouldn't need one. I was wrong. Sunscreen in the eyes in not a pleasant experience. From the beginning of the day, I was drenched in sweat, so I never really noticed the heat. Plus, most of my day was in the forest, so I was in the shade.

Filling my bladder to the full 50 ounces, I took two to three sips of water every ten minutes like I usually do, and felt fine for about four hours. When I made my way over to Squak Mountain, I found myself thirsty. My water has electrolytes and carbs mixed in (Tailwind), and it just wasn't quenching my thirst. By this time, it was probably around 10:00 or 10:30, so the day was starting to heat up. Two sips turned to three or more. By the time I hit 18 miles, I was starting to get concerned about having enough water. I just couldn't get enough. I could reach behind me to pat my bladder inside my vest and know that I still had fluid, but still. What I really wanted was just plain water.

Making my way down Squak on Margaret's Way, I hoped that there would be water at one of the buildings in the parking lot. I was delighted to see three beautiful tanks of water cooler refills on the back step of one of the buildings. Unfortunately, no one was there. Next door, there is a gravel pit, and I saw someone exiting the parking lot, so I ran over there only to find it deserted. I wasted a good ten minutes in pursuit of water. I still had some left, so no big deal.

What a beautiful sight! Too bad no one was home at the buildings in the Margaret's Way Trailhead parking lot. Water has never looked so enticing.

I still had four miles on Cougar Mountain to go at this point, and I ran out before I crested Shy Bear Pass. By this time, I was really thirsty. There was a race on Cougar today, so I hoped I would get lucky and pass an aid station and make a plea for a cup of water. Alas, the race was nearly done by the time I got there, and the only aid station was in the parking lot, and it was dismantled by the time I arrived. I had water in the car anyway.

Back at the car, I texted John to let him know I'd finished, and he wisely advised me to sip not gulp. It was hard not to, and to be honest, I did gulp at first. I just couldn't get enough. I drove to Matthew's Thriftway to pick up more water after nearly going through all of my 20 ounces of water and 20 ounces of recovery drink, all in a matter of 15 minutes. I got more water for the 45-minute drive home, and those 20 ounces were gone well before I got there. While in the Thriftway, I began shaking from the chill of the air conditioning, and I was still breathing hard from my run. I noticed even my breath was shaky. The checker gave me a concerned look, and I tried to be as pleasant and normal as possible. My right eye began to twitch.

Getting in the car, I lost my balance just opening the door. I sat in the car and nearly lost my composure. I realized that I was hyperventilating, so I dropped my head against the steering wheel and breathed deeply. I ate a few pop chips and drank some more water and calmed down. I simply cannot allow that to happen on the PCT. For a few minutes, I was so light headed, I didn't think I could drive. But I got a hold of myself and the hydration and salt from the chips began to take its effect.

Side note: when I first arrived at the Thriftway, I thought I might need my pole to walk in the grocery store--which is when I realized that I had leaned it again my car when I first finished, and never put it inside the car. I rushed back to the trailhead and retrieved my forgotten pole. Foggy brain.

I have planned to refill my bladder every ten miles or so on the PCT and have planned stops at year-round water sources every ten miles or so. I was thinking 20 ounces each time, but now I think I will do at least 30. I will also drink up with just plain water when I refill my water bladder. I have a collapsible bottle with a filter built into the cap, which I will use to filter my water and then squirt it into my bladder.

My run took over nine hours. I took it slow, babying my hamstring on the the downhills, which totally trashed my quads. They were jelly like on Squak--it was not pretty. I just couldn't afford another stumble. I figured sore quads was a small price to pay for a happy hamstring.

The first day of my two-day PCT Section J run will be 50 miles, nearly twice the 27 miles I did today. I am concerned about having enough daylight, let alone water. I think it will be a good idea to find a place to stay close to my start on Steven's Pass, be it camping or otherwise. I'd like to start in the dark, hiking, and have my husband join me until it gets light enough to go without headlamps. Then he can take them back to the car with him. I will have a headlamp with me for camp, but I don't want to use up the battery in the morning of the first day.

As with all my training runs, I learn something from every one of them. Today was all about water and hours of daylight.