Western States: Before the Big Day

My first week of summer has brought with it beautiful trail running, roaring waterfalls, soothing time with family, and no small amount of pre-race jitters. Unless you happen to have your head in the ultrarunning sand, you know that this weekend is Western States. Waaaahooo! It would be no understatement to say that I am excited, and that I have little else on the brain right now. 

Before all that pre-race talk though, a few pictures from my first week of summer:

A perfect start to things, wouldn't you say?

~

I’ve had plenty of time to consider goals for Western States. Practically a lifetime. As far as a predicted finish time, the numbers have bounced around all over the place in my head. What I’ve finally settled on is this: Running Western States is a journey.

In other words, in a somewhat similar fashion to last year at TRT, my goals are centered less around a specific finish time, and more on how I want to handle things during the day. On the physical side, I want to run smart, take care of myself, and deal with every problem as it arises. On the mental side, I want to enjoy it as much as I can, appreciate the entire experience no matter how it’s going, and accept my best effort whatever it may be. I really think if I take care of myself physically, the outcome will take care of itself.

Check-in at Squaw this morning was nothing but smiles and friends and excitement on a beautiful mountain day. If tomorrow is anything at all like that, it is sure to be a good experience.

If you’re one of the few people (it seems) who won’t be at the race, you can follow the whole thing on their awesome webcast. If you want to check in on me specifically, I’m runner #119.

I also have to offer a huge advance thank you to all the volunteers, the RD, and WS Board. I’ve seen what happens at this race from the spectator/volunteer/crew perspective and it is phenomenal. I can’t wait to see it from the participant side of things.

And to all the other runners, pacers and crew getting ready for a big day tomorrow – good luck, and have fun!

We are ready to run!

Nature's Peace in Yosemite National Park

"Camp out among the grasses and gentians of glacial meadows, in craggy garden nooks full of nature's darlings. Climb the mountains and get their good tidings, Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves."

-John Muir

After running a hundred miles, there is sometimes a short period of time where the runner experiences a sense of peaceful satisfaction. Months of hard work towards a singular goal have been realized. You can feel good about your accomplishment.

I was lucky enough to get one of those brief windows of bliss following my run at TRT this year. It's a blessing when I can simply sit around enjoying the pleasures of the mountain life, and I'm not filled with this sense of urgency, this feeling that there is something I'm supposed to be doing.

This only lasts for a week, at best, so when my friend Pam suggested a women's backpacking trip in Yosemite for the weekend following TRT, I was completely onboard. What better way to celebrate running 100 miles than by heading off into the wilderness with a handful of free-spirited women?

I met up with my adventuring partners early on Saturday morning during the weekend following the race. We geared-up and headed off on the PCT along the Tuolumne River towards our destination: Glen Aulin.

Pam and Kara get ready for the hike.

Early on the trail, we made a quick stop at Soda Springs to taste the bubbly water. We decided that next time we would bring gin and limes and fill our bottles with nature's bounty from the spring. But considering that it was only 10 A.M and we'd only hiked a half mile, it was probably a good thing we didn't have the ingredients for gin and tonics. It could have made for a long 6 miles to Glen Aulin!

Checking out Soda Springs

When I first heard our chosen destination was Glen Aulin, I was a bit disappointed because I knew it was a popular hike in the park. I wasn't keen on the potential for crowds. But as we made our way along the Tuolumne River, I recalled why it was such a popular trail: The scenery is unbelievable. I know this can be said of so many places in Yosemite, but honestly, this river has a special beauty all its own. And as often happens to me in this park, I was so enraptured by my setting that the crowds simply melted away. I had eyes only for the flow of water across smooth granite, the reach of the trees, and the shape of the clouds against the brilliant sky. I could have been the only one present. Who knows.

It's amazing how a river can take so many different forms - have so many different personalities. It roared with its swiftness and power, and then it meandered so quietly that its stillness reflected the surrounding granite domes. Fierce, then tame - lion to kitten and back again.

After following the river steadily downstream for 6 miles or so, we arrived at Glen Aulin and found the perfect campsite. Secluded from the other campers, we could have been the only ones in a vast wilderness. It was perfect!

We set up camp just in time to be safely sheltered during an impressive thunderstorm. We huddled in the Himalayan Hotel while thunder crackled overhead and the skies pelted us with pouring rain and hail. There's something incredibly comforting about being safe in a tent while a storm rages on outside. We giggled, told stories and sipped wine until the storm moved on, just in time for us to escape the tent and make dinner.

Camp chairs, bear canisters and chardonnay: essential elements to a good backpacking trip.

Sunset view from our campsite.

The next day we slept late, then headed out for a day-hike down to Waterwheel Falls. Rain threatened on and off all day, but we only got hit with an occasional passing shower.

Rain showers will not dampen the spirits of this intrepid group!

Tired, 100-mile toes are well-protected in Injinjis.

We continued to follow the river as it made its way toward the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne.

We paused mid-day for lunch, swimming and sunbathing. The sun was so warm and soothing during this respite from the showers. It was one of those lunch spots that you just don't want to leave.

Sunbathing on a rock in the middle of the Tuolumne. Could I possibly be any more relaxed? (Um ... No.)

The river drew us on, down its sweet, winding path. The only woman on the trip that I knew going into it was Pam, and I found myself enjoying the chance to get to know other women with lives so different from my own. It seems to me that time on trail is often the best setting in which to connect with others.

Water was everywhere: flowing in rivers and creeks, trickling down granite walls and even occasionally falling from the sky. So it wasn't surprising that the wildflowers were putting on an impressive display.

Hiking through fields of lupine.

Mariposa Lilies.

Tiger Lilies.

After our visit to Waterwheel Falls, we returned to spend another jubilant night at Glen Aulin.

The following day, we returned to the trailhead at Tuolumne Meadows. It had been a short trip, but for me it was the perfect way to stretch out my legs in a beautiful setting with some new friends.

It may seem odd to vacation in a part of the same mountain range in which I live, but I can't help it; I love it here. Perhaps it's because these mountains do have so many good tidings to offer, and because for a few blessed moments, my cares do drop off like Autumn leaves.

A Few of my Favorite Things

A menagerie of summertime play packed into a few short weeks means less time for silly pursuits like blogging. I'm completely okay with this situation.

In lieu of attempting the overwhelming task of blogging it all, here is a little photo-essay of the last few weeks. It's possible I'll get up a short report with a few details about Western States, but no promises.

My garden blooms!

Emerald Bay from the Rubicon Trail

Running the Rubicon

Running the Rubicon with Sarah!

Runner's barbecue, chez moi: Amber and me.

Pitch #2, Northwest Books, Lembert Dome, Tuolumne Meadows

Andrew on the sharp end.

Nevada Falls

The Panorama Trail

Yosemite Falls from the Four Mile Trail

Yosemite bike path fun

Andrew graduates from paramedic school. He worked hard for that diploma, and I am so proud!

Hangin' with Meghan at Michigan Bluff

With bad-ass runner Jamie heading into Foresthill

Jamie and I exit the rafts after crossing the river. Jamie looked great all day, and finished in 23:15!

My Yosemite by the Seasons

Upon entering Yosemite National Park for the first time, I strongly suggest that you make certain someone else is behind the wheel of the car. Otherwise, when you are staring out the window in slack-jawed wonderment at the surrounding grandeur, you will become a serious hazard of the road. Yes, it really is that awesome.

It's hard to say exactly when my love affair with this park began. Perhaps it was in college, during a winter-time visit. Perhaps it was when I walked through the high country on the PCT. I think, truly, it wasn't until making the Sierra Nevada my home and bringing my husband to Yosemite for the first time, that I began to make pilgrimages in earnest. You can bet, when I brought him there, that I made certain he wasn't behind the wheel of the car.

This place has become many things to me. A place for family and friends, for pushing limits, for reflection, for relaxation, excitement, exploration and learning. It's a place where I can be myself, know exactly who I am, and yet still question and explore that knowledge. There, I have existed at times in fear, and at times with overwhelming confidence. I have been both leader and follower. And, I have found myself physically shaken, so overcome by the surrounding beauty that I am afflicted simultaneously with both laughter and tears.

It occurred to me recently that I've visited Yosemite during every season, and that each one has something unique to offer. Believe it or not, Yosemite is not all about summer. So I offer you here an exploration, mostly in photos since my words can do little justice to this kind of beauty, of the park in each of the four seasons. My own Yosemite.

SPRING

Defined by the roaring waterfalls, and the ephemerals that visit these months, spring in Yosemite can be summarized as glorious. Snowmelt swells the river, and flowers coat the valley floor, finding homes in every tiny crack of granite on the cliff face. Life springs up everywhere.

The less pleasant aspects of this can include swarms of mosquitoes. But the high country snow provides a magnificent backdrop for emerging trails in the valley and higher up on the rim.

Backpacking on the rim, May 2004

Roaring Upper Yosemite Falls, June 2007

Summer

Like most other visitors, summer marks the majority of my time spent in the Valley. Every year in June, my family gathers here for a week of frivolity. And I mean family with a capital "F." We have husbands, mothers, fathers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, nephews, and any friends deemed cool enough to appreciate the adventure (and tolerant enough to put up with us).

Andrew and I generally drive in through the eastside, camp near Mono Lake, then drive in over Tioga and through Tuolumne Meadows. It provides a spectacular start to the week.

Sky over Mono Lake, June 2009

The centerpiece to our family week is the nightly picnic, where twenty to thirty of us gather each evening. Betsy is the queen of the picnics, and she organizes everything months in advance. We all know what we're supposed to bring, and the nightly potluck is a feast to behold.

This is family time - a chance to socialize with people we don't see nearly enough. This is relaxation time - eating in the shade, sipping wine, after a long day in the sun. We share our day's adventures and plan tomorrow's. The brilliance of the picnics is that we get to see everyone in the evenings, while doing our own thing in smaller groups during the day.

Sister, Mom and me at the picnic grounds, June 2009

Introductions, and giving thanks before the meal, June 2009

Let the feasting begin! June, 2009

Of course, one of the most popular activities for everyone is hiking, but Andrew and I have a few traditional favorites that we seem to stick to as well.

For instance, if you happen to be a trail runner, Yosemite is a Cheesecake-Factory-sized slice of heaven.

Upper Yosemite Falls Trail, June 2008

You can run up to the top of Yosemite Falls and back before anyone else has even finished their morning coffee. What is a strenuous, all-day hike for many, is to the trail runner merely a beautiful way to start the day.

Upper Yosemite Falls, June 2008

If, however, you also happen to be an ultra-runner, the trails take on an entirely new meaning. You can cover in one day, a route that many would consider to be a multi-day backpacking trip. One of the most incredible runs I've ever experienced was done in 2008, during one of these family trips. From Yosemite lodge, I ran up the mist trail, past the turn-off to Half Dome, over Cloud's Rest, and to Tenaya Lake. If I've ever talked to you about Yosemite, I definitely told you about this run.

Yosemite Valley from the top of Cloud's Rest, June 2008

With an early start, the trails were nearly empty, and I ran through 27 miles of jaw-dropping grandeur alone. Alone and in love with the landscape around me.

The Yosemite high country from the top of Cloud's Rest. You can see my destination in the distance, Tenaya Lake.

Of course, completing a one-way epic like this also requires that you have an awesome spouse willing to take a few hours out of his Yosemite vacation to come pick you up and take you for burgers and milk shakes at the Tuolumne Meadows Store. (I just so happen to have one of those!)

Tenaya Lake

And how could two people who met as climbing guides possibly go to Yosemite Valley without rock climbing. Even on years when we're not climbing hard (most years, lately, for me), the trip has to include some rock climbing. We're mostly into the medium to long, mellow routes. The climbing is golden no matter what your level. There's a reason this place is the Mecca for climbers the world over.

Andrew insisted that his first time to the summit of Half Dome would not be via the cables. Of course it wouldn't be! We rose at 3:30 am that year to be the first ones on Snake Dike (8 pitches, 5.7R). It's still my best day ever on Half Dome.

Descent from "Royal Arches" (16 pitches, 5.7 A0), June 2007

Rapping off Cathedral Peak (5 pitches, 5.6), July 2001

Belaying on "After Six" (6 pitches, 5.7), June 2009

One activity we usually do as a whole group is the float down the Merced River. Sun-bathing was never so good.






And what is Andrew looking at so intently through this telescope?



Climbers on El Cap, of course! Being total geeks, we like to check out who's on what route. You can always spot a few "rock stars," like Dean Potter and Beth Rodden, in the Valley.


Another important aspect to a successful summer trip in the Valley is transportation. Bikes are the only way to get around the Valley this time of the year! Forget the valley shuttle. Ride your bike!



Riding back to the lodge from the picnic, across the meadow in the evening light, is another of those quintessential Yosemite experiences. Last year, I made it my goal to learn to ride my bike with no hands. Andrew, blessed with much more talent in the balance and coordination arena, thought this was pretty amusing. Nonetheless, he guided me on my quest, and each evening we practiced rolling down the bike path, sitting up, and throwing our arms wide, triumphant. There's no place better to explore small, childhood dreams than at dusk, with your husband, in Yosemite Valley.

And in that same vein of exploration, I have another tradition for these June excursions. I always take one of the free art classes offered at the Art Activity Center. They have amazing guest artists teaching these classes, and most of them are water colors - the only medium in which I've ever dabbled. I'm no artist. But the thing is, I don't pretend to be. And that's the beauty of it for me. This is generally the only time of year that I try my hand with a paint brush, and I have no expectations for myself whatsoever. I am merely a child at play. Dauntless.

Every year I tell myself that I am going to choose a new subject to paint, but every year the same one finds its way on to my paper. I can't escape the draw of Yosemite Falls.



Autumn

Autumn in the Valley is a new world to the visitor used to the crowds of summer. The waterfalls are quieter. The trails are quieter. Even the guests themselves seem a bit more subdued, their voices quelled by the soft beauty of Autumn.

This past November, I had the joy of escorting my 5th and 6th grade students on a field trip with the Yosemite Institute. Introducing my students to the park was the highlight of my school year so far.

Having lunch with my own class in a setting like this gave way to questions such as, "Am I really getting paid to do this?" and, "Aren't we part of the coolest school ever?" Somehow, though, it doesn't surprise me that I would wind up at a school that already had this field trip planned before I'd even been hired.

The weather changes quickly in the fall. Storms roll in, wrapping the mountains in a wraith-like shroud, giving the feeling that the change in seasons has already occurred.

And although the waterfalls may be diminished, the still waters of the Merced can give us two of them at once.

Winter

Winter in Yosemite is like a whisper. A sheath of snow hushes the landscape, and most places are completely absent of people. This is when the magic of the park can overwhelm you.

When there's enough snow, skiing across the Valley floor is not to be missed. With roads left unplowed, the everpresent summer traffic is vanished. You may wonder where Yosemite Falls went, but you won't really care.

Andrew points out Yosemite Falls, in case you missed it. January, 2008

Music is another love that seems to find me in Yosemite, or perhaps I just seem to find that everywhere. I've seen some of my favorite musicians in and around the Valley, and an impromptu sing-along is never a bad thing in my world.

Here I am on stage at the Evergreen Lodge with a few like-minded friends, backed up by our boys from Hot Buttered Rum. Yes, that's me with a mic in my hand, and no, I can't sing at all. (But I would never let that stop me from having a good time!)

And this was the scene just last week at the Ostrander Hut. Here's a potential description of a perfect day for me: Run all afternoon with good friends across the Yosemite snow, surrounded by breathtaking scenery, ears filled only with the sound of your own pounding heart, to arrive at your home for the night - a small, historical hut in the back country - and find a warm fire, bread in the oven and a bevy of skiers with guitar, banjo, and fiddle in hand. The only thing making it better was the extra guitar sitting there, finding its way into my hands. Did I mention that I love a sing-along?

Life doesn't get much better. Overhanging rock, Glacier Point. February, 2010.

I met up with Meghan and Bryon for three blissful days of running/snowshoeing/fastpacking (whatever you want to call it) hut-to-hut through the wilds of Yosemite. Saturday, we found ourselves enshrouded in the end of a winter storm at Glacier Point. At a curve in the trail we paused, and, like a premonition, we all sensed the lifting of the clouds before it actually happened.

A gift of Yosemite, we stood there for at least 45 minutes watching the show. The clouds danced around us, teasing with glimpses of blue sky, a shoulder of a cliff. The sounds of Vernal and Nevada Falls murmured up through the mist, unseen.

Our patience was rewarded, as it somehow always is in Yosemite. It just seems to be a place where all the best things come together.