I had set out at about 10:15 the previous morning with my adventure bestie Lisa. Ras had first helped me haul out Gossamer Gear packs loaded with supplies to the warming hut. A group of local skiers, including the original founders of the park, had recently refurbished the hut. I’d had my eye on spending the night in there ever since I had seen that it was now enclosed with a roof, wood stove, wood floor, picnic table, and lots of dry firewood. In addition, I had a goal of skiing an ultra-distance ski in one push while I was spending the winter housesitting in the Okanogan Highlands, a place Ras, our daughter Angela, and I had called home for 12 years. I wanted the ultra-ski (skiing a distance greater than that of a marathon, such as in the sport of trail ultrarunning in which I participate) to be on groomed trails so that I could get through the challenge within a decent time frame. Using the hut as a resupply, warm-up, and napping spot, I felt like I could go after 100 miles in Highlands Sno-Park in one go. I invited Lisa to join me, as we have done a bunch of fun and awesome adventures together, both on skis and trail running. We make a good team and are compatible. She messaged me back that she loved the idea. I was stoked she was going to join me. I had decided I would do it solo, if she hadn’t been interested or the timing hadn’t worked for her.

The winter was coming to an end and I felt like there was no better time than now to go after this ski challenge. I had been skiing a lot this winter, both on groomed trails and backcountry skiing. Almost as soon as I put the idea together, I was at Highlands Sno-Park and getting going with the Highlands Hut Hundred Mile Ski. Lisa and I started Tuesday morning, the 6th of March, and the forecast called for wet snow conditions, and possible rain, by Thursday. In addition, as we were skiing along on our first afternoon, I found out from Lisa that her husband, Jason, had a special birthday celebration planned for her on Thursday, and that she would need to be back at her house by 7:30 that morning. This was making Thursday look like a good goal to be completed with the hundred.

Ras had said goodbye after skiing supplies and drinking water out to the hut. He would have the car, but the timeline for me to accomplish this goal was, in all actuality, completely open-ended. He likes to remind me of that during self or unsupported efforts. If you have the time to complete the goal set aside, nothing aside from death or injury can really stop you. I would ski to a spot with a cell signal to let him know it was time to come get me. This was the loose plan Ras and I had arranged for the Finish. The Chix on Stix lady’s ski group I had formed in the early part of winter, would be meeting at the hut on Wednesday afternoon for our regular ski. We were going to have a potluck in the hut after a 3:30 PM ski. I looked forward to seeing the gals on Wednesday, and this gave Lisa and me a solid window of time for pushing as hard as we could until we met up with the Chix. When they arrived, we planned on taking in some good food and having a fun ski that would be less focused on pushing hard, and more on visiting with the ladies. Until then, it was time to ski!

We decided to start by taking off for a big loop on the Antoine Trails side of the park. We skied back to the lot and across to the Antoine area to see what was groomed. There is a loop that takes a couple of hours, and we wanted to see which direction to head out, and how to link in the inner connecter trails to make for some good mileage while starting out fresh. We saw that Jack had not groomed the two-mile climb up the snowmobile road, but that recent tracks had been set into the fresh snow by another skier. We decided to tackle the loop from that side, getting into the tracks and climbing. It was easy climbing with nice gliding, and it went fast. Before I knew it, I was at the top of the climb and cruised along in the tracks to the intersection of the proper Antoine Loop. This was groomed and looked quite sweet, so with Lisa’s agreement, I took off down this trail. It was very quiet and peaceful. The conditions were perfect and for this, I was so grateful. This would help. The tracks were in great shape, the snow was fast, and the corduroy had not been tracked. We would be able to make good time around this loop. From there, Lisa and I skied on the Antoine Loop, climbing and climbing until we reached the top where Jack had turned the groomer around and headed back down the hill. We would do the same.

The downhill was fast and fun. When we got to the intersection with Aava’s Draw, I could see that it too was groomed, and again, with Lisa’s agreement, we decided to take advantage of this groomed trail and skied uphill now. It leads to a loop again, ending with a downhill and back to the parking lot and hut. We had decided to step into the hut for just a quick stop to throw some wood on the fire and make any adjustments before heading up the 1,000-foot climb to the top of Windsong. After coming down from Windsong, we would take a longer break and have 25k done for the day. This would feel like a great start.

The climb up Windsong was fast in the sweet conditions and the downhill was a blast. Before I knew it, I was sitting at the picnic table in the hut, getting warm by the fire and snacking on some nuts. I made coffee in the Jet Boil and checked my blood sugar. It was in a great range, so I felt encouraged. It was time to decide how to spend our next chunk of time skiing. We had a number of options for routes, so this was cool. We decided to head over and do that same Antoine Loop again. We would come back, check in at the hut like before and do another Windsong as well. This would get us to 50k for the day. This was a great goal, and achievable, so we relaxed into our break, having our plan in place.

Taking off for this second loop, we had to be prepared for the night. It would get dark while we were out. Last time the loop had taken three hours, and we were sure we could count on at least that long for this loop. We decided to not take any extended breaks on the loop and to get it done as efficiently as possible. We took our headlamps, plugged into our mp3 players, and took off for the two mile climb up Antoine for the second time. The temperatures got colder, but we had the right layers. My eyes watered on all of the downhills, and my nose ran. It was in the teens, but moving kept me warm. Before I knew it, we were back to the hut, stopping in briefly to warm up and change layers before climbing up Windsong. It had been dark for a while. The stars were out. It was a lovely night.

I had some more coffee and a Trail Butter pouch. I was feeling hungry, but I knew I could snack on some stuff as I climbed up Windsong. The up and back on this trail would give us 4 ½ more miles and the downhill and the dark would be exhilarating. It was a bit more challenging than when we climbed it earlier in the afternoon, but it still took the hour we had planned, a round trip. It was so nice to step back into the warm hut. Lisa pulled out her sleeping bag to warm up her feet, cold from the fast downhill. I sat at the picnic table and checked my blood sugar once again. It was still in a good range. I snacked on some more nuts, and veggies I had cut up ahead of time and had another cup of coffee. It felt good to just sit. I also pulled out my sleeping bag, and, knowing that no one else would come into the hut at this time of night, I made a little nest with the Gossamer Gear packs I had brought. I laid down my Six Moon Designs Gatewood Cape, and then my ¾ length Gossamer Gear pad, and then my Feathered Friends sleeping bag. I used one of the packs as a pillow, and for the other two I leaned up against the side of the hut so that I could lean back against them and stretch my legs out in front of me. Thirty miles are done and 70 to go; I had this. It was important to take care of all my needs and that is what I was doing at this time. I drank a bunch of water and mixed up an Emergen-C packet in one of my water bottles. This would taste good on the late-night ski.

Lisa and I decided to do some of the meadow loops, now that it was the middle of the night. We wanted to stay a little bit closer to the hut, and not go so far out as we had to do on the Antoine Loop. We were ready to mix things up a bit, and the meadow loops would be beautiful on this clear night. We thought we might see the moon rise. We also thought it would be just a little bit warmer. There would not be any extended climbs, like what we had been doing so far, and the shorter loops would hopefully not take as much of our energy as the big climbs were doing.

It was a dark and graceful ski down Pomme de Pin, over moose tracks, and around two hairpin turns. The little dips were fun and soon we turned to head down towards the first of the meadows, Sunshine. This was so sweet in the night. We both heard an owl, off in the distance, hoot hauntingly. We skied a couple of miles, until reaching the junction with Hej Bue, to drop down to Straight Edge, a one-mile loop with no big climbs. It was rolling and fast and perfect for this late at night.

And the glow on the horizon turned into a risen moon, shaped like that of the nursery rhyme “The Cow Jumped Over The Moon”, lying on its back, as if resting, as if forming a plump bed. One of the planets was vividly bright next to the moon, and these two celestial bodies guided the way. We could see our shadows in the snow as we skied. I suggested we do some repeats of this loop, and Lisa agreed, offering that we might change directions each time. We settled into this for four loops or more, until finally climbing back to the hut to our warm sleeping bags for a three-hour nap. Frost had built up on our Nathan packs, and the fringes of our hair were frozen from having caught our breath. Our total mileage for the day was 44.4 miles. We had a GPS unit to track the mileage. Lisa set an alarm, and we laid down in our sleeping bags. I tossed and turned, excited and feeling like there was no way this wasn’t going to happen. It was happening.

At 6:30 in the morning on our second day, Lisa and I got up out of our cozy bags and Lisa got the fire going again. She is an expert firekeeper and did a wonderful job the entire time keeping the stove warm. I helped carry in wood and tossed a piece on occasionally, but I am so thankful for her skill and attentiveness to the fire. We each had a cup of coffee and set the goal of skiing 30 miles before the ladies arrived for our Chix on Stix gathering at 3:30 that afternoon. This would give us 75 miles total and the ability to get the rest of the miles done before Lisa had to take off early the following morning.

We set off skiing, getting the mileage done, and mixing up the routes we took. I honestly don’t remember which trail we took when, but I know it was wonderful. The conditions were still superb for fast skiing. We stopped into the hut now and again for snacks, blood sugar checks, to feed the fire, and change out layers as needed. By 1:30 in the afternoon, we had decided to fit in two Windsong climbs and descents, totaling nine more miles, before the ladies arrived. We were starting to feel the miles in our bodies by now, but we did climb Windsong once. We got to the bottom and realized we only had time for the shorter Whitetail climb and descent back to the hut, but this would get us pretty close to our goal. We had a nice ski up and down Whitetail, seeing the moose tracks again all along the trail where the giant creature had punched through the snow. I pulled ahead of Lisa and by the time I got back to the hut, I saw smoke puffing from the chimney, letting me know the fire had just been fed. Sure enough, Mel was inside the hut and we were right on time for the Chix.

Sara also joined our group and the four of us set out to ski the Sunshine Meadow down to the Straight Edge meadow again. I loved this idea. I originally had hoped to get in a significant number of miles with the ladies when they arrived. I had thought maybe more of the gals would come. But as it turned out, it was perfect. Since Lisa and I had already skied a 50k and been out for almost ten hours, I was ready for a more mellow ski. I love the meadows. I enjoyed the company. When we got back to the hut, we shared hummus and rice crackers; dates stuffed with coconut cream and pecans; pesto pasta; raw veggies; coffee; and oatmeal cookie crumble. We had a great visit and then Mel and Sara skied back to their cars, just before dusk.

Lisa and I were more tired than we had expected to be. We were just shy of 75 miles deep into this. It had gotten cold. We each snuggled into our sleeping bags and started discussing the details of what we had left to ski, what we had already skied and how long it had taken, and the realities of how much time Lisa had left to complete the 100 miles. She needed to leave by about 6:00 the next morning but also needed to have some rest before she did so. I knew I could finish any mileage I needed to, solo, the next day. I recalled Ras’ words of advice to use all the time it takes, but complete the mileage you set out to complete. Before I knew it we were both dozing, and it didn’t seem like any more miles would get skied that night. My feet throbbed from all the work they had done that day and Lisa said her feet were also aching, although neither of us had blisters. I felt like I was still moving, still on skis either flying downhill or in the tracks, gliding along. Clouds had rolled in and the stars we had seen the previous night were now obscured. The moon was not creating a glow outside, calling us out of the warm hut. Lisa decided that she wasn’t set on the 100-mile goal. She had been having a great time, felt like she’d accomplished a lot already, and didn’t need to get back out there for more miles if I wasn’t pushing it. I decided some rest would be good and that the night skiing in the teen temps the night before had taken a lot out of me. In order to finish this off, I needed some rest. We stayed snuggled in our bags. Lisa got up at 2:00 to start the fire going again. I tossed and turned again. But by 6:00 in the morning, Lisa was packed up and skiing back to the lot, wishing me well on the completion of my goal. She would message Ras and let him know what I was up to and that he could join me to help me finish off the mileage.

Now alone in the quiet hut, heavy snow falling and accumulating quickly outside, I busied myself with getting my Nathan VaporAiress ready for the day; putting my sleeping bag and other gear away; drinking my coffee and checking my blood sugars; and making sure my pack had a good selection of snacks, as I wasn’t into eating anything right now. I felt a bit anxious and unsure, yet all the while kept telling myself I had this. I had to keep my confidence level up in order to finish off the 24 remaining miles. Suddenly, a newspaper in the fire starter pile caught my eye. I recognized it immediately. It was the article the local paper had printed when Angela broke her humerus in a snowboarding competition, six years earlier. There were two pictures of my beautiful daughter, right there looking at me. It was such a cosmic moment; such a signal from the universe that I need to persevere. I felt the strength I needed just to get out the hut door.

I decided to just start skiing. I didn’t know whether to go out for a big loop, or something shorter. The wet snow made me think I should stay closer to the hut so that I could change out my wet layers. The snow wasn’t letting up at all and in fact, it was coming down harder. I skied towards the parking lot, deciding to head out the easy trail that leads towards Antoine and then come back to the hut. But as I skied along in the stillness of the early morning, only 6:45 AM and no other skier likely to show up for hours, if at all, I was drawn to drop down Hej Bue in the fresh snow. I didn’t even have to think, the peaceful quiet guiding me all the while. I floated down the hill, the deer tracks now covered with a fresh layer of fluffy white. I coasted along at just the right speed, taking the turns with no effort, looking all around me at the trees and brush holding onto the freshly accumulated snow. It was ethereal. I kept going until I found myself in the delightful morning mist in the Straight Edge Meadow. I went around, and around, until the tracks, Lisa and I had been skiing in the day before were found again by my skis and were just as well established. I waxed up on the first loop, regrouping under the shelter of a tree as I released all the discomfort of any anxiety and instead delighted in this perfect instance.

When I felt done in the meadow, I climbed back up to Whitetail, and instead of turning right to return to the hut, I decided to stay out and instead go towards Antoine and ski a loop around Aava’s Draw. There was still no car in the parking lot and I was not surprised. I skied towards Aava’s Draw and took the turn, following the old tracks again from the day before and getting some good glide on the uphill. When I got to the downhill, it was as magical as the early descent of the morning on Hej Bue and I glanced at the aspens as I passed, and the open spaces between the trees, and the red rosehips and the mullein stalks still standing tall above the deep snow. It felt good to be getting miles in with seemingly no effort. I was excited about what the rest of the day would bring, and I had no doubt I would reach my 100-mile goal.

When I got back to the lot, I did a double-take when I saw that our car was there. Ras had arrived! I felt myself get emotional for the first time. I had not looked at the GPS yet for the morning, but I had been out several hours already. I skied over to him, and tears welled up in my eyes. I was really happy to see him. He was not so happy. He had been in bed for three days with a chest cold. He felt horrible. He doesn’t like to ski as much as I do anyway, and instead of being happy to hear from Lisa, he was bummed that she was not going to be skiing the rest of the miles with me and that he was somewhat expected to show up. His boots hurt his feet and he just doesn’t like the movement of Classic style cross-country skiing.

I excitedly caught him up to speed on how things had been going. I pulled out the GPS and it read 84.93 miles. I still had nearly 15 miles to go and of course, this was not good news to Ras, but to me it was awesome. The end was in sight. I had this now. I was determined to not let his illness and attitude affect me. I did care that he felt horrible. I assured him he didn’t need to ski with me and that he could just set up the sleeping bag in the hut and rest. It was actually warm and quite nice in there. Our sleeping bag is super cozy and I really hoped he would just do that.

We decided to start off by skiing in the hut. Since I had been out all morning, I was ready to check my blood sugars and have a snack. I was also going to have a cup of coffee and probably change into a dry layer. This would allow him a chance to ski about a mile and feel what it was like. He could see what it was like in the hut and decide what he wanted to do. He clearly did not feel well and was grumpy. I skied off ahead and gave him some space. He grabbed a 1-gallon water jug to carry out to the hut for me, that Lisa had left in the parking lot when she took off in the morning. He struggled along with the jug. By the time he got to the hut, he seemed to have a true appreciation for what I had been doing. He really wanted to support me. He decided he would give skiing a go and we could take the simple route up Whitetail, do repeats so we could slip back into the hut to dry off as needed, and just get the remaining mileage done. It seemed like a good plan.

On our first trip up Whitetail, it had not been snowing. The uphill glide was fast and we got to the turnaround at the mouth of the canyon and the spot where Twista Vista drops downhill into the trees, in just about 20 minutes. We turned around and skied fast downhill and over the moose tracks, back to the hut with ease. I said he should just go inside and I’d keep doing Whitetail repeats. We looked at the numbers and could see that I only had 4 more and I’d be done. But now, the afternoon in full swing, the warmth of the day was upon me and the snow began to fall again. The quick Whitetail ski was now a sticky slow slog, hiking in my skis and trying to keep from having my own meltdown, so to speak. Snow was piling up on the bottom of my skis, a couple of inches thick. I stopped to scrape it off and wax-up then tried to continue the climb. The sticking continued. I instead turned around to ski the tracks I had just been in, downhill, back to the hut, knowing I needed to wax up again and figure out how to ski in this sticky mess.

Ras had gotten a little rest but when seeing me, realized what was happening. He got his skis on and together we did another repeat on Whitetail, hoping that the two of us together could keep the track slick before the warm snow accumulated on it. This worked okay, but when we got back to the hut, I felt frustrated with the conditions and these goofy short Whitetail repeats. I kind of snapped at Ras and said I had another loop in mind and that I was just going to head out on it. He could go in the hut and dry off and I’d see him in a bit. Off I went. He didn’t understand because we’d been working on keeping the Whitetail tracks clear. I reminded him that this was my ski goal and I was going to finish it my way. I’m sure he was finding me to be very pleasant at the time. I was in a zone; that place where you go deep in an endurance push where you are only focused on the end goal and how you will get it done. You don’t feel much- your pain, your body temperature, your hunger or thirst, or your ability to use filters in communicating with those you care about the most.

I returned an hour later with only four miles left to ski. I knew I could get this done now easily, by skiing back down to the meadow via Hej Bue, the way I had begun my morning solo, and finishing off with loops around Straight Edge until the GPS read 100 miles. We hauled the supply packs back out to the car and I said goodbye and headed back to the Hej Bue trail. Ras would drive down to the lower parking lot that sits conveniently just off to the side of the Straight Edge Meadow. This was all coming to completion so smoothly. I would finish down there and he could wait in the warm car. I would be done in just about an hour.

I dropped down Hej Bue for the final time. The wind had picked up and mist was blowing around. This was a lonely, lovely, one-mile downhill ski to the lower meadow. I could not see across it. The fog was thick, like a bowl of well-made split pea soup, which would taste so good now, I thought to myself. I skied around it, the faster direction, the direction I had preferred during this challenge. I saw our car across the way and waved a pole at Ras. He didn’t see me so I continued around the loop. I still had just shy of two miles, probably two more loops. The whiteout was mystical and seemed an appropriate way to end this challenge. I tucked my head down to protect myself from the wind. And I just skied. Push and glide, push and glide. I skied past the big pines and the old aspen snags, now barely visible in the thick fog. I unceremoniously skied up to Ras and checked the GPS for the final time – 100.2 miles, 54 hours, and 51 minutes after I had started. The Highlands Hut Hundred Mile Ski was complete.

The post Highlands Hut Hundred Mile Ski Trip Report appeared first on Ultrapedestrian.

The UP North Loop presents some fascinating and challenging question marks to our intrepid adventurers. Not only is it the biggest Only Known Time project Team UP has ever taken on, but it is also the first thru-hike they have undertaken since Kathy’s pancreas stopped producing insulin, leading to her being diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes in June of 2017. That story is told in their new book 98 Days Of Wind: The Greatest Fail Of Our Life, available HERE.
You can follow their progress HERE and on the map below:

When possible Ras and Kathy will post trail dispatches to their personal Facebook pages, their Team UltraPedestrian Facebook page, and their Instagram account. Also, video dispatches will be posted to TheTrek.co YouTube Channel.
The CalTopo map below can be used for a detailed examination of their planned route:

The post UP North Loop appeared first on Ultrapedestrian.

Reality testing and first-hand personal experience on which to base one’s judgments are the key factors for knowing how and when to override your body’s attempts to hold you back. The first time you find yourself deep in the wilderness moving along a trail in the dark chasing the illuminated cone of your headlamp beam can feel overwhelming, unnerving, and even scary. But the 100th time you do it could end up being one of your all-time favorite moments on the trail. The 98 times in between are when you learn how your mind and body feel under those circumstances, how to manage those feelings, how to fuel those efforts, how far you can push them, and what the real consequences are.

Mentally taking a step back and looking at yourself helps to put it all in perspective. In your own mind, everything novel about your undertaking takes on a skewed sense of significance; it’s the farthest you’ve ever gone in a single push, the longest you’ve ever stayed awake, the highest elevation you’ve ever attained, the hardest thing you’ve ever attempted, the worst you have ever felt. The superlatives are convincing, but inaccurate in their incendiary nature. It would be equally accurate to describe yourself as a biped moving along a trail in its natural habitat. Viewing your undertaking in terms of its animal ordinariness disconnects it from fear. A hungry, sleep-deprived animal moving through challenging environments is most likely to lay down and take a nap, not die suddenly and tragically of exertion and exposure.

Using these techniques, mentally connecting with my inner Hominid, my ancient animal self, doesn’t make me feel superhuman, it simply makes me feel like an ordinary Human Being. And ordinary Human Beings are capable of amazing and extraordinary things.

The post By Ras Vaughan appeared first on Ultrapedestrian.

On June 11th, 2017, Team UltraPedestrian achieved the biggest failure of our careers. After 98 days and 1300 miles on the trail pushing our minds, bodies, gear, finances, and relationships far past their limits, we were forced to admit that we would not be able to complete our goal of becoming the first people ever to yo-yo the Grand Enchantment Trail. (Yo-yoing a trail means traveling it from one end to the other and then back again, thus completing the trail twice in a single push, once in each direction, like a yo-yo running out to the end of its string and then returning to your hand.)

The GET runs east and west between Phoenix, Arizona, and Albuquerque, New Mexico, for approximately 770 miles. But the GET isn’t an official trail: it’s a route that links together existing trail, unmaintained trail, two tracks, roads, bushwacks, and cross-country sections that traverse both vast deserts and vertiginous mountain ranges. It’s an incredibly difficult and indelibly rewarding route. Being in the heart of the American Southwest, the Grand Enchantment Trail presents a very limited window of opportunity in the spring and fall, between the freezing snows of winter and the blistering heat of summer. On our final day on the trail, when Kathy inadvertently left her sleeping pad in the direct sun and it melted we knew that our window of opportunity had slammed shut.

Our GET Yo-yo attempt was the second in a series of four desert trail yo-yos that we planned as part of our multi-year Desert Yo-yo Grand Slam project. This included the Arizona National Scenic Trail, which we had successfully yo-yo’d between September 18th and December 20th of 2015, the Grand Enchantment Trail, the Oregon Desert Trail, and the Hayduke Trail. Each of these trails is approximately 800 miles long in a single direction and traverses some of the most challenging and unforgiving terrain in North America. We were attempting them in order of ascending difficulty, and we were under no illusion that our success was a given. These are extremely challenging routes, and there’s good reason why no one had ever yo-yo’d any of them before.

Not only did we aspire to being the first, but we planned to do it in “Feet On The Ground” style, not hitchhiking into resupply towns, not accepting rides of any kind, and not using public transportation or any other form of conveyance (we even avoided elevators in motels). Our goal was to cover every step of the way under our own power and on our own two feet. In or minds this would be the highest ethic we could attain, the best style, the fairest means, but it could also be summed up rather simply as, “cray cray is as cray cray does”. We had invested months evaluating the physical, mental and logistical challenges involved in the overall project and had concluded that it was Humanly possible. We wanted to find out if we were the Humans to do it. …

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I had a full week off from my weeding job and the organized annual cross-country ski trip in the Methow would begin on Tuesday. Also on Tuesday, Lisa and I would begin tallying kilometers skied, towards accomplishing our 2nd Methow Trails 200k Challenge (skiing 200k of the Methow Trails in a single season). By Saturday night, allowing us five days and four nights, Lisa and I hoped to have this challenge conquered. I devised a plan to drive to the Okanogan Highlands to visit Lisa first, in the small town of Chesaw, on Saturday. This meant an eight-hour drive over a mountain pass, and on mostly snowy roads after that, until I reached my friend Lisa’s home, almost at the Canadian border. Near Lisa’s place, Ras and I own a five-acre piece of land with a creek and a cabin. Since I was driving over the mountains anyway, I wanted to check in on our place, do some skiing off of the groomed trails, enjoy some time with Lisa in her hand-built sauna, and hopefully get in a long run on a snow-plowed country road. Lisa had offered to let me stay in her guest cabin on her garlic farm. She had it heated up and all ready for me, despite the bitterly cold weather they had been having. This sounded like the perfect way to turn this whole pre-Rendezvous Huts time, into a winter retreat.

Conditions of Steven’s Pass looked sketchy from reports, so I decided to take the longer but lower, and safer route. I drove off the north end of Whidbey Island and took I-5 south to I-90 and headed east. It would take longer, but it would allow me to take the lower elevation pass through the Cascades, Snoqualmie. Stevens Pass was more direct but was requiring traction tires while Snoqualmie was bare and dry thanks to it being 1000 feet lower in elevation. Conditions were quite a bit better, although still wintery. I also decided to avoid Blewett Pass and eventually turned north up through Soap Lake and Ephrata. A long, solo drive like this in the winter, was a big mental challenge for me; one I was determined to overcome.

photo by Kathy Vaughan/UltraPedestrian.com

When I finally pulled up at Lisa’s, I could see smoke coming from the sauna chimney. Her husband Jason had been getting the sauna heated up for us already. I stepped out of the car into the shockingly cold air and immediately realized how serious the goal of skiing 200k this coming week was. I reached back into my car and fumbled for gloves, my warmest hat and my down puffy. Any time outside looking for gear in my car was going to be a challenge. I was happy I was as organized as I was.

Lisa led me back to the cabin that farm volunteers and guests use when visiting she and her husband Jason on their organic farm. They grow mostly garlic, but also enough fruit and veggies to preserve and keep them eating their farm food all year round. The small cabin was warm and cozy inside. I was going to enjoy having this space to myself for the next couple of days, and yet also being able to sauna and ski with my Adventure Bestie.

photo by Kathy Vaughan/UltraPedestrian.com

Lisa, Jason, their dog Lucy and I all had a great backcountry ski the following day on the acreage around their home. We spent about four hours skiing through the growth of huge spruce, pine and aspen trees. We skied past a creek with a restoration project in progress. A small black bird called a Dipper was pecking at the frozen banks of the creek. The bird’s presence was a good sign of the habitat being hospitable and offering the nourishment that it needs. That made us all happy.

photo by Kathy Vaughan/UltraPedestrian.com

Back at Lisa and Jason’s, we enjoyed a dinner of Lisa’s homemade veggie curry. We took another sauna at the cord wood structure they built themselves down by the same creek we had skied past earlier in the day. The whole experience was just what my spirit needed. And this was just the beginning of the week.

The following day, Lisa had to work at the small country store about three miles away. I had a hard time deciding whether to run or ski and so I decided to do a route that would incorporate both. I also wanted to visit Lisa at the store later in the day. Jason planned on making us vegan pesto pizza for dinner and I definitely wanted to work up a good appetite for that!

photo by Kathy Vaughan/UltraPedestrian.com

I drove to a pullout on a nearby country road. From here, I could ski and run a loop that would probably take about four hours in the deep snow. I got my Nathan VaporAiress pack loaded up with a few extra layers, some snacks and my Altra FKT’s I’d been wear-testing. The shoes are now on the market and called the King Mountain instead. They have the burliest tread on any shoe of Altras and I’m crushing on them hard right now. The deep snow made the skiing slow in my Fisher OutBounds. I skied through this Grouse Preserve for many winters, when Ras, Angela and I lived in our cabin. My plan today, was to ski through the preserve to the road, where I would cross over to our snowed-in driveway that leads back to the cabin, and change into my running shoes. I would have a couple of miles to run, on snowy country roads, before completing the loop back at my car. I was filled with gratitude that I had the opportunity to ski/run this loop, and was also filled with nostalgia and an appreciation for how far I’ve come with my adventuring. Skiing solo through this preserve land used to be a pretty big deal.

I stopped by the small store to visit with Lisa on my way back to her place. It was fun to experience the rural culture. While Lisa is working, a worn table near the pellet stove becomes a center of Highlands discussions. Her coworker and two other local ladies, one whom I’d known for years, were at the table when I walked in. Geared up with my Zoned Heat jacket and tights, my King Mountain running shoes, and other pieces of warm gear I was still wearing post-loop adventure, I became a curiosity. I answered the questions about all the gear, while ideas of how to put together a shoe drive of some kind in this area danced through my head. I’m still working on this one.

photo by Kathy Vaughan/UltraPedestrian.com

That night, Lisa and I did some baking together and finished packing for our two hour drive to the Methow the following day. It was time for the Rendezvous Ski Hut portion of my getaway to begin. I said good night to Lisa and headed back to the guest cabin for my final night there. I brought all of my gear bags inside to make final preparations and then fell soundly asleep.

The Following day Lisa and I skied up from the Cub Creek Parking Lot with a group of ladies. For many years, I had joined an eclectic group of Okanogan women on a Rendezvous Ski Hut Trip. River Jones had been the first to invite me along on one of these special winter outings. We normally stayed in either the Gardner Hut or the Grizzly Hut, and this year Grizzly it would be. There would be seven of us: Lisa, my adventure bestie from Chesaw, where Ras and I have a cabin on five acres; Melanie, a retired R.N., fun, fit and feisty, who has been on all of the hut trips I’ve been on over the years; Rise, also a retired R.N. who had worked with Mel for years, and brings her guitar to sing soft, soulful tunes in the background while lively lady chatting is going on; Dani, a spirited, young mom of two, a lovely, athletic lady and a good cook; Cassandra, a sweet, soulful mom of a teenage daughter, a grad student and an all- around beautiful & caring woman; and a new friend to me, Erin, a warm gentle healer, easy to be around with deep blue eyes. All of us have partners, so this lady time getaway was very special.

photo by Kathy Vaughan/UltraPedestrian.com

The group of us skied Cougar Bait to Cub Creek, 1.7k & 3k. We took Cow Creek to the Rendezvous Basin for 5.1k. Lisa and I had split off at this point and we continued down the Rendezvous Basin for 2.4k to Grizzly Way for 1.1k to the Grizzly Hut spur trail for .5k. We were staying at Grizzly Hut for three nights and would ski back to the parking lot on Friday. Later, after a wonderful Apple, Squash and Ginger Soup dinner by Dani, Lisa and I went back out into super cold temps, likely below zero, and very strong winds. We took the spur trail and Grizzly Way to Gunn Ranch Road where we skied an out n’ back to the Gunn Ranch parking lot for an additional 11k. We then returned to the hut for some sleep. Our day’s total was 27.7k.

I woke up hungry on the second day. Cassandra made a savory breakfast of polenta, fresh garlic and stewed tomatoes. It really hit the spot. Lisa and I hung out at the hut with the ladies, visiting and sipping coffee. We all left together to ski the Cassal Hut Loop by way of the Rendezvous Basin and then Cassal Creek Loop to Cassal Hut spur. We ate lunch there and then headed back out the spur trail, Cassal Creek Loop, in the opposite direction, the “Black” descent to Rendezvous Basin. Lisa and I said goodbye to the other ladies here and continued on our way to do the Cougar Mt. Loop. This loop offers lots of curvy, steep downhill stretches and I couldn’t wait to ski those. I was wearing my larger and heavier Fischer skis. Lisa was in her lightweight skis. We continued on Rendezvous Basin Trail for 3k to reach the basin where Cougar Mt. Loop turns off. We skied the 4.6k loop and connected to Cow Creek. Cow Creek took us back to the Rendezvous Basin and back to the Grizzly Hut for dinner.

photo by Kathy Vaughan/UltraPedestrian.com

It was our turn to prepare the shared meal and we were making Pad Thai. Lisa led the cooking and I chopped, diced, made the salad and set the table. The ladies loved it and it was delish. It hit the spot. Lisa shared chocolate covered dried mango for dessert.

After dinner, it was time for Lisa and I to head out for our night ski. The moon was bright enough to ski without headlamps as we had the night before. Some of the ladies joined us initially. Our plan was to ski the Grizzly Way Loop, 5.2k. I overdressed and got very sweaty underneath. This made me feel irritable and uncomfortable, not to mention nervous about being wet. It was super cold outside, single digits or colder. I got overwhelmed by our goal of skiing 200k in these temperatures. This was my first ski of the season and it was a huge goal I was undertaking. Hanging out in the warm cabin with the ladies sounded much nicer, and easier. I voiced some of my stresses to Lisa, verging on having a meltdown of sorts. I kept coming up with rationalizations as to why I was feeling pessimistic. She didn’t let me give up on the goal. She was assertive, yet kind. We went back to the hut with the ladies and I changed into dry clothing and made an attitude adjustment.

photo by Kathy Vaughan/UltraPedestrian.com

We went back out and skied the Cassal Hut loop again, in the opposite direction. We skied the Grizzly Way Loop a total of three more times too. This was instead of our initial plan to ski the Fawn Creek Trail down to Mazama and back. This had felt overwhelming to me. Lisa also encouraged me to change into my lighter weight skis. I needed to have faith in my skiing ability. The lighter weight skis give me only slightly less control. I can ski well in my Karhus and they allow me the ability to ski in the tracks, using less energy and going faster. This all worked well that night and we had a lovely ski. I never got wet, cold or uncomfortable again. I could go fast in the tracks and my feet felt so much better in my boots. It was awesome and a game changer. We had skied 34.4k that day and it was time for some sleep.

On our 3rd day, Lisa and I had coffee and a quick breakfast with the ladies before heading out to ski the Cassal Hut loop. We planned on connecting with the group somewhere during their ski trip to the Rendezvous Hut. We met the ladies as they were skiing down the spur trail from the hut. Ben, the owner of the Rendezvous Hut system had built a fire up there, but the hut had not quite warmed up. We skied back out to the bottom of the spur to touch base. They were all cold so we said a quick goodbye as they headed off towards the hut. We decided to ski up to the Rendezvous Hut to take advantage of the warm fire Ben had built. We figured the fire would be warm by the time we got up there, and it was. We both were very grateful for the warmth the stove provided, and that we were able to come inside and enjoy it. We pulled up a bench in front of the woodstove and ate our lunch.

photo by Kathy Vaughan/UltraPedestrian.com

Our plan from here was to continue on to the Heiffer Hut and then get back to our own hut in time to have dinner with the ladies. This route is called the Cedar Creek Loop. It is unique in that it passes through a couple of creek drainages where cedars are growing. This is unusual in the forests of the Methow. I love the rich fragrance of the Cedar Creek drainage as the trail dips down into it, making a sharp curve through the dark, thick forest. A total accumulation of 14.7k would get us back to the bottom of the Rendezvous Hut spur trail again. We would then have the 2.4k descent to the Grizzly Way and 1.6k to the hut. The Cassal Hut loop was 12.4k. This would give us a total of 29.5k.

The home-cooked soup made by Mel was a delicious cream of broccoli soup made with cashew milk. Rise and put together a lovely veggie platter, complete with avocado slices. A big green salad was also served. The next plan was to head back out for a full moon ski with the ladies. We skied the 5.2k Grizzly Way Loop. Lisa and I planned on continuing on without the ladies, after heading back to the hut for boysenberry pie and a full moon ceremony. Erin, Cassandra, and Dani had organized a sweet little ceremony to honor the Full Moon and the New Year. We washed our hands in warm hibiscus water, made our own individual intentions, and heard poetry from Cassandra. We stood together, in the moonlight, ski sisters so to speak.

Rise, Mel, Lisa, and I really appreciated the younger ladies in our group, creating this fresh youthful energy. Our group represented the 30’s, 40’s 50’s, and 60’s. When I first began joining the Rendezvous Ski Hut trips, I was the youngest, listening to stories of menopause and the wisdom of the ladies older than me. Now, I was the 3rd from the oldest. Menopause was behind me and I was sharing stories from the perspective of being the mother of a homeschooled 23-year-old daughter, now serving in Madagascar in the Peace Corps. Our group ski was the Grizzly Way Loop for a total of 5.2k. Then Lisa and I headed out to do the Gunn Ranch Rd out-and-back again, a total of 14k and an awesome ski. The whole valley was lit up by the moon. It was stunning scenery as far as the eye could see. For the day, we got 44.9 kilometers.

photo by Kathy Vaughan/UltraPedestrian.com

The final morning in the hut had arrived. We cleaned up after ourselves, visited, and had a potluck breakfast. Then we all skied out together via Rendezvous Basin, Cougar Mt. Loop to Little Cub Creek to Cougar Bait, 15.4k. It was one of the best skis I’ve ever had downhill on cross-country skis. Little Cub Creek is always a blast, but this time was pretty epic. I love this downhill trail with little curves and extended down; so, so fun!! I was super cold at the bottom and halfway down started stressing out that I had left my car keys in the hut near where I had been sleeping. I grabbed my burlap bag, which had been overturned in the snowmobile ride, and frantically searched through it. My keys were buried in the bottom. “Yes!”, I cried out dramatically, thrusting my fists up into the air. I warmed up my car and changed into my Altra NeoShell Mids. I was just about ready to leave when Cassandra walked over with my Fischer skis. I had totally forgotten to grab them from the pile of our gear Ben had snowmobiled down from the hut. They had even been right near my other gear, including my burlap bag. I had skied down on my Karhus and not even thought about my other skis. I thanked her and thought to myself that I had better focus a little better, considering the key thing and the rest of the ski challenge to pull off in a day and a half.

photo by Kathy Vaughan/UltraPedestrian.com

I followed Lisa into Winthrop. I left my car in the Barn parking lot and she drove us in her camper to Twisp, where she had some soaps to pick up from a business there. We then drove back to Winthrop to get my car and dropped her camper off at the Ice Skating Rink parking lot, where we would wind up at the end of our night ski. I drove us up to the Chickadee parking lot in the Sun Mountain trail system. This is where would do most of our night skiing. Our plan was to climb up Thompson Rd and ski down Meadowlark to join back up with Thompson Rd. We would then ski to my car, warm up, and have a few snacks. We would ski from there down the steep trail to the valley floor and into Winthrop.

Once in the Chickadee Parking Lot, Lisa and I had a few organizational tasks to do before getting started for the night. It was very early evening, not yet dark. We could make some good progress up the Thompson Road climb before sunset. The moon would light our way again later. But for now, we each settled into our own space, within our heads, and on the road. There were two sets of tracks, one on either side of the wide corduroy trail. The conditions were good for the climb. We had 6.1k of persistent uphill to the pass at 3,650 feet in elevation. We started out at 2,620.

Layering properly was challenging, yet important for the entire time Lisa and I had been out skiing. The bitter, dry cold felt biting on the descent. For uphill skiing though, it was surprising how few layers were needed. “Be Bold, Start Cold”, as the saying goes, was hard to implement in the single-digit, and below, temperatures. Ras had lent me his puffy down jacket, as it is easier to stuff into a pack than my own heavier-weight puffy. As it turned out, this was my layering savior. I was able to put it over the top of my Nathan VaporShadow pack. When I started heating up from the climbs, I could take it off easily and wrap it around my waist without having to stop for long. Each time Lisa and I stopped, we had to tend to each task quickly so as not to get cold. If we were stopped long enough, I could unwrap it from my waist and easily remove my pack, stashing it under the outside stretch cord, or stuffing it into the open top. Ras’ jacket was ample enough on me that it fit down over my legs, helping to keep them warm too. The hood could stretch over my own big ear flap, and furry hat, and be pulled up over the top of my two merino wool buffs. Easily pulling hoods and buffs over your face while moving is an efficient layering technique in the cold, especially with the wind as a factor as well. I use all of these face and head layers while trail running, fast packing, and cross-country skiing.

I listened to some music while climbing Thompson Road. The distraction and beat of the music helped. I enjoy listening to Reggae Dancehall, as I’ve mentioned in other blogs. I had a few new tunes such as Elliphant and Major Lazor’s new tune “Too Original” and Elliphant’s single “Only Getting Younger”, featuring Skrillex. Before I knew it, I was catching up to Lisa at the pass and it was time for some downhill. We would still have some gentle contouring along the Meadowlark Trail and even a few short climbs, but for the most part, we were going to have downhill for the rest of the night’s ski.

Sometimes expectations of what kind of terrain lies ahead can interfere with my mental comfort level. There were some fun stretches of down mixed in with climbs and some gentle contouring for a long way. Lisa gained some distance from me and I skied along in the dark through dense trees, feeling alone in a mostly good way. I got glimpses of Lisa’s headlamp, as we did need them on this night for the first time during our ski challenge. Reaching the intersection with Thompson Road, Lisa and I connected with each other quickly, before beginning the 2.6k, 500-foot drop back down to the Chickadee Trailhead.

Lisa took off fast. Her light skis had no drag and she flew off before I could really even get going. I pushed and glided in the tracks to gain some speed and then skied out of them back onto the corduroy once I got momentum. I started skiing fast. It was exhilarating. Lisa was nowhere in sight and all around me was dark. I focused on the smooth trail ahead, trusting that I could open up on this well-groomed path. I was so relieved to have that climb done, and to be getting back to the car. The ski into Winthrop would be all downhill and flat-track skiing. I could do that any day. “Focus now, fly downhill, cover your face, wriggle your toes in your boots, wriggle your fingers in your gloves, you’ve got this.” These mantras floated through my head as I skied fast in the dark.

Then it was over. There was Lisa at the signed intersection, waiting for me so we could take the gentle trail back to the car. My eyes were watering from the fast skiing, the cold air, and for some reason, tears. I was flooded with emotion. I was happy to be getting closer to realizing our goal. I was full of adrenaline from that final downhill. I was stoked to be reunited with Lisa and so near the parking lot. We skied off together towards my car.

photo by Kathy Vaughan/UltraPedestrian.com

Once there, we took some time to get ready for the 8.8k ski down to Winthrop and Lisa’s camper awaiting us at the Town Trailhead and Rink. Now I was completely relaxed and ready for the rest of the night’s skiing. I ate some food while in the car, putting on some dry layers at the same time. Lisa and I left the comfort of the warm car and headed toward the Patterson Lake cabins. The lake itself was blanketed in snow. The cabins were lit up and smoke was coming from their chimneys. It smelled good. We skied quietly past on the groomed trail and then took off our skies to cross the road.

We skied the Winthrop Trail with its fun S curves all the way down to the Methow Community Trail. We had 4k to ski through the fields, past a few homes, along the Methow River, and into the skating rink parking area. Lisa and I turned off our headlamps once down the steep sections of the trail. It was a beautiful night, skiing along peacefully, and pleasantly. I got in the tracks and effortlessly cruised through my surroundings, at one with the cold winter scape. Throughout the many hours of skiing I had been doing, I had often been able to enter this “zone” and it is one of the reasons I am drawn to hard endurance efforts such as this. This is when I feel alive. This is when I am at my best and feel the healthiest. One more day, and Lisa and I would be completing the Methow Trails 200k Challenge for the 2nd time, doing it all in a single big push. I don’t think anyone else has done this. It felt exhilarating.

I skied up to the waiting Palomino camper and took off my skies. The empty lot and the starlit sky amplified the feeling I was having of limitless possibilities.

Lisa and I awoke at what felt like the spot where a winter wonderland turns into a pretty intense winter landscape; the final lot that one can drive to before Highway 20, or the North Cascades Highway, is closed to thru traffic for the season. The avalanche threat is too real for the Department of Transportation to keep this highway open during the winter. A post with a sign and a flashing light warns travelers to go no further. This is sad for me, because The Methow is only about four hours away from where I currently live, via this highway. Instead, I had to drive twice as far to access this magical paradise by way of I90 to get through the Cascade Mountain Range, and then miles and miles of snowy highway north, through central Washington.

The Subaru Lisa and I had seen the night before were still parked near us in the otherwise empty lot. There was a tarp laid out neatly beside the car with bins spread out on it. A mat was by one of the side car doors to step out onto without being directly on the snow. Whoever this was, they had camped in the snow before. They knew what they were doing. I got out of the camper to get into my own car at one point and saw the guy who had been sleeping in the Subaru the night before. He was bundled up for the frigid temps and had on big-down booties to walk around on the snow. He was casually eating breakfast at the folding table he had set up, the stove going with a pot of boiling water steaming on one of its burners. This was an impressive scene and Lisa and I discussed it. I assumed he might be catching one of the heli-ski rides we were hearing overhead. This area was known for its fabulous backcountry riding and it was possible this guy was hitting the slopes. He was gone before Lisa and I hit the trail.

Our first destination was Doe Canyon. It was quiet and bitter cold. We bundled up and headed for the gentle climb into the canyon. I was looking forward to the ski out, mostly downhill for about 2k. It felt good to be starting our final day on the Methow Trails 200k Challenge. We had worked diligently and persistently to get to this point. We knew we had it if we just stuck to our plan and kept on skiing. We would be done before it was even too late at night. But now, as we skied along peacefully in the morning surroundings, I was in a wonderful zone and felt as though I could ski forever. I was unfamiliar with the trails on this upper Mazama valley floor. Lisa and I had skied it in the night when we completed the Methow Challenge two winters prior. An old wooden sign read “Old Growth Grove”. This all felt new and kept me pushing and gliding forward, looking all around so as to not miss anything. I saw where trees had been broken off at nearly the same height, everywhere I looked. I thought that possibly an avalanche had caused this or a strong windstorm. Either of these events was possible in this rugged, mountainous zone. I soon saw a large wooden sign that said “Casual Avalanche 1997”. This explained it all. I skied on, looking at more trees, broken off, as far as the eye could see. It was impossible for me to imagine the enormity of what had occurred here 20 years ago.

Finally, through the avalanche zone, we were in an open, sunny meadow. I felt so grateful to be amongst such pristine, winter scenery, in the sunshine, accomplishing a huge goal. Lisa knew there would be a bench up ahead and we planned on taking a short break there. We had not been able to stop outside for any length of time during our entire ski. We would now have a chance to sit down and soak in some sunshine while having a bite to eat. It was all that I had looked forward to as I skied the last section to the bench. I took off my skis and plopped down on the dry surface. It felt so good to have the rays of sunshine fall on my outstretched legs. This was a wonderful moment.

photo by Lisa Eversgerd/UltraPedestrian.com

A few more kilometers and we would be at the Mazama Store. We wanted to fill our water bottles here and possibly get a hot drink or a snack. It was incredibly crowded and felt like the scene of a movie. Everyone was dressed just perfectly in cross country ski attire, LL Bean or Patagonia après ski wear, and anxious for something from the counter in the store. We used the restrooms and filled our waters then left for the solitude of the trails once again. The route was cruisy and pleasant as we skied the final four kilometers back to the parking lot. We saw a few other skiers, but for the most part, we made our way easily along the route. We had a short climb that rewarded us with a little bit of fun downhill. We skied through a tunnel underneath the Highway. Cold, hungry, and happy, we got back to our vehicles. We began to warm them up as we took off skis and boots, changing into dry shoes for driving.

Lisa would drop her camper off at the Mazama parking area. This is where we would complete our Methow Trails Challenge. I would drive us to the Gunn Ranch parking area where we would begin our night ski. We would ski the 5.5k on Gunn Ranch Road and then connect with the Rendezvous Basin Trail. But first, we wanted to be sure we were ready with everything we needed in our packs for night skiing. We were finishing our hot drinks and snacking in my car at the Gunn Ranch parking area, the car running so the heat was blasting and keeping us warm in the cold early evening air. Lisa and I both have a fondness for this road; it would be our third time skiing it in this challenge. It had been so intense and windy on our first night out. Now, it seemed inviting and familiar. The gentle climb of the road would warm us up quickly once we left the comfort of the car for our final ski of the challenge. Our bellies were full and we bundled up appropriately. Our headlamps were ready, although most nights out we had not had to use them as the moon had lit our way. I locked up the car and we headed up the trail, the clear view of the valley below us. We were quiet, our thoughts internal as we glided easily up the trail. All of the usual landmarks helped lead the way. I noticed the pond for the first time. Aspen lined its outer banks. I remembered the salamanders Lisa and I had seen here during another ski challenge at night. It surprised us to see them on top of the snow. Now, seeing the pond, it made only slightly more sense.

We hit the intersection with the Rendezvous Basin Trail and took a left. Now it was time to gently cruise along, the main climb over with. We would have a 2k climb after some of the descent, a bit later on. We both figured that this would help to warm us up again after having gone downhill for a while. We skied along, nostalgia flowing through me as I remembered skiing all throughout here with the ladies earlier in the week. We had so much fun together. I saw the arch covered in snow that Dani had fallen in love with. I stopped to marvel at it once again and soak in the energy. It was so quiet. We were so alone out here. Everyone was tucked away in their warm huts or in ski lodges or personal residences down in the valley. It was even kind of crazy but in a very magical and wonderfully intense way.

The downhill finally came. Lisa took off ahead, flying on her lightweight skis. I lost sight of her headlamp. I kept a courageous spirit and skied along, alone in the dark, downhill. I flew fast at times, and at other times not as fast as I would have liked. Sometimes I could see Lisa’s light if there was a switchback in the trail. The descent was long, about 9k in total. I knew we would connect again, but for now, it was just me and the dark surroundings, my bright light leading the way. I loved the feel of the cold air, biting at my cheeks. I adjusted my wool buff around my face as needed, pulling it away if I wanted the air and covering my cheeks if it got too biting. Down, down I skied. Dropping lower and lower towards the valley floor, I could see the lights from homes down below. It looked so cozy and inviting. The lights were further away than they seemed. And now, suddenly, the climb was here.

I struggled a bit mentally with this. I got too warm but didn’t want to stop and adjust layers. I climbed as strongly as I could, but I could not catch up with Lisa. It was not a big deal; we were each in our zone. This was kind of the crux of it all, the final climb after so many previous ones. I glided along pretty easily, the skis taking to the conditions quite well. I wasn’t backsliding or having to put much effort into moving uphill. It was just a long climb, deep into this ski adventure.

Finally, at the top of this 900-foot climb, it was time to push and glide and work some speed into the takeoff. I wanted to fly fast down the final descent. I wanted to feel the speed and have some fun curves on the way. This was it. Once in the valley, there would be no more long downhills. Once in the valley, it was time to just get in the tracks and push mindlessly along. The challenge would be over, and likely my skiing for the season as well. It was bittersweet.

The lights from the valley got closer and the cold bit harder into my face, my fingertips, and my toes. I could see Lisa’s light far below me on the trail now, or was it a light from a cabin? Some lights looked close like I was skiing right by a ski lodge. Others looked so far away like I was not progressing downhill like I thought I was. And now another short, steep pitch to climb. The herringboning seemed like a technique long forgotten. What had I started doing with my skis? I hardly thought about it. Lisa had disappeared over the crest a while ago. I flew down the fun black diamond trail called Goat Creek Cut-off and saw Lisa checking out the sign at the intersection below. The descent was complete. We were back in the Mazama Valley.

I shivered and we cheered together. I told Lisa the easiest way back to the car from here was good for me. She led the way and we twisted and turned on an easy trail for about 4k back to her Palomino in the lot in Mazama. Christmas lights lit up the small town, most homes were lit only with these and some dim lamp lights. It was just magical. I can’t stop thinking about it. I have to live there and ski all the trails all winter. Yeah, I would work a little. But I have to find a way to ski Methow Trails, more. For now, I will reminisce of another Methow Trails 200k Challenge, completed in thru-ski style.

Lisa and I began the Methow Trails 200k Challenge on Tuesday, January 10th at 11:15 a.m. and completed it on Saturday, January 14th at 8:48 p.m.

We slept three nights in the Grizzly Hut in the Rendezvous Trail System and one night in the Palomino during the challenge.

photo by Kathy Vaughan/UltraPedestrian.com

Big Impossible Sounding Ideas

There’s a particular type of ill-advised, hare-brained scheme that resonates with me on a fundamental level. When an adventure of this sort first presents itself, whether, via outside influence or internal genesis, I experience both a physical and mental response. The physical response includes the sound of blood rushing in my ears, chills up and down my spine, sharpening and narrowing of my vision, and a racing heart. Mentally my response is along the lines of, “That sounds impossible. I have to give it a try.” I’ve come to think of projects of this sort as Big Impossible Sounding Ideas.

As intimidating as they may seem at first conception, I’ve learned over the years that Big Impossible Sounding Ideas can be deconstructed into smaller and smaller component parts. Those parts can then be evaluated and explicated until a way is found to make each of them possible. Then all of those little possibilities can be reassembled to make that Big Impossible Sounding Idea not only a possibility but a reality. This is a process that can take months or even years to run its course while my brain chews on the problem, evaluating information, formulating and reformulating plans, and passively letting possibilities bounce around my skull to see if any of them take root. And once I decide that something is humanly possible, the all-consuming question for me then becomes, “Am I the Human Being to do it?” That’s exactly how things played out when I first heard about Chad Kellogg’s idea for the Mount Rainier Infinity Loop.

The Cowlitz Connection and the Mount Rainier Infinity Loop

In 2015 Richard Kresser and I attempted a project I had dreamed up to combine the 93-mile Wonderland Trail around the base of Mount Rainier with a traverse of the summit. It’s not hyperbole to say that Mount Rainier is responsible for making me the man I am today, and I find myself continually drawn to it, persistently pursuing new ways to experience the mountain as completely as possible …

The post Methow Winter Ski Retreat appeared first on Ultrapedestrian.

One thing led to another and before I knew it we were making arrangements to spend a day with Amelie the following week, back home. This sounded like a blast. Amelie is seven, the age Angela was when Ras and I took her on that first thru-hike of the 93 mile Wonderland Trail around Mt. Rainier. We didn’t plan on attempting that with Amelie on this first outing together, but my mind did start to put together a day of trail adventure that would be appropriate for her.

Amelie was spending the week in nearby Anacortes with my parents. The plan was for Ras and I to meet up with my mom to get Amelie for the day, and then return later in the evening. I had messaged my mom and told her to make sure Amelie wore the warmest clothes she had with her. We planned on spending some time outside.

When she hopped in the car with us, she looked bundled up and adorable, Ugg boots on her feet and a fluffy turquoise scarf that matched her coat, clearly borrowed from my mom and smelling of her familiar musk cologne. Amelie was a shy at first with her aunt and uncle, but after about ten minutes, she listed off every layer she was wearing. She had a hint of pride and eagerness in her voice. I could tell she was up for an exciting day with Ras and I.

We had to head back to our house to get a few gear decisions finalized. The sweet little girl said “It seems to take longer to get ready than it must take for the adventure itself.” A very astute child, indeed. But soon, we were on our way to Ft. Ebey State Park, just a couple of miles from our home. There, we could spend some time on the beach, the bluff trails overlooking the water, and in the forest. Living near many beaches, I knew she had spent a lot of time playing along shorelines. I wanted to let her explore the singletrack trails in the forest. We parked at the beach. Ras strapped his Nathan Ice Storm waist belt around Amelie’s tiny middle so she could carry her own water and tuck stuff away as needed in the zippered pockets. We headed up the steep bluff trail that would lead into the forest.

photo by Ras/UltraPedestrian.com

It was fun right away to feel the pace she was comfortable with and how the order would play out on the trail. I first took the lead with Ras in the back. We were both wearing our Altra Lone Peak 3.0 NeoShell Mids, and had great traction. Amelie hiked fast up the steep climbs and soon wanted to be in the lead. We had everything with us to enjoy a picnic in the woods. Ras had all kinds of gear in his larger backpack; the Jet Boil, coffee and hot chocolate packets, cookies and other snacks, a sleeping bag and pads to sit on, and our tarp tent. We could set this up under the trees and stay warm for the picnic.

The day was gray and cloudy, cold but not raining. We moved at a brisk pace for almost a mile, before Amelie wondered about some of the little openings in the trees off of the main trail. We looked back into a couple of them, but encouraged her to go just a little further before we stopped. We pushed on a little bit before coming to a closed off campground. There were campground roads that would be easy to follow or wooded spots to set up our picnic. Amelie wanted to be back in the trees and we found a perfect spot to set up a mini-camp.

photo by Ras/UltraPedestrian.com

We heated up water for hot chocolate, coffee and soup, and enjoyed hanging out in the quiet woods. Some trail runners went by and didn’t even see us. They looped around, passed us a second time, and still did not see us, amusing Amelie. We were in a good spot.

The hot chocolate was ridiculously hot. In an attempt to cool it down, I watered it down too much. I was worried that I had and sure enough, when Amelie took her first sip, she said “That just tastes like hot water.” And thus the hot chocolate idea was a fail. I mixed it in with my coffee and had a faux mocha, or, as we call it, a Fauxcha, instead.

Amelie wondered if we could start a fire accidentally by using our Jet Boil in the woods. I got a piece of cedar and took a lighter out of my trail supplies kit. I showed her how hard it was to light the damp cedar. She loved the fragrance of the smoke as the cedar smoldered. It is a spiritual experience, bringing in the scent of the ancient, most natural incense. She wanted to smell more of it. I taught her about wafting the smoke towards her, and using it in an intentional way. I told her she could send good thoughts to her best friend back home, or to her mom and dad. The teaching opportunity presented itself. Her unselfconscious joy in the cedar seemed to match the intent of the moment. I wanted her to fully experience any elements of nature as they appeared. I told Amelie how I had used the cedar smoke to repel mosquitoes on a backpacking trip once. The insects had been making it hard to even eat at the time.

But now that the picnic was out of the way, it was time to use our consumed food as energy to head back out on the trails. We had talked with Amelie a little bit about what we take on our three month thru-hikes. She was interested in what we ate and we talked with her about how much energy we now had from what we had just eaten.

On the trail once again, Amelie stopped and turned back to look at me. Her huge blue eyes were trying to express something to me. I wished I knew what she wanted to convey. Was she still having fun? Had she gotten enough to eat? She hiked on and then again stopped and turned back to look at me with those eyes.

photo by Ras/UltraPedestrian.com

I said, “What’s up?”

She said “I want to run.”

I said “Okay, let’s run!”

She was shy about leading the pace and wanted to get behind her uncle. We said she could be in the middle of us, but not last in line. This was okay with her. I took off running and could hear her foot falls behind me. I thought of her running in her Uggs and that they might be getting a little muddy. I hoped my sister wouldn’t be too bummed, but I knew a sweet little girl was having a good time. She had on one of my cross -country ski hats with flowers on it. It was falling down over her eyes a bit. Her cheeks were flushed. She was getting warm and wanted to pull off the hat. We stopped and helped her get her jeans off, leaving her with just comfy leggings on for the run. I took off my warm down puffy pants, so I now had on just tights with my lightweight Altra Performance Skirt over the top. We were warmed up and ready to go.

All three of us had a blast. We had downhill switchbacks to navigate and rooty, flat stretches to cruise. There were gray skies and muddy trails, a combo making it hard to differentiate what the surface was actually like underfoot. Amelie went around me and got out front. She flew down the hill. She hopped over roots and made the quick switchback turns with ease. Her coat flew open. Her cheeks got more flushed. She lifted her feet high and stretched out her legs. She turned around every so often to make sure we were still behind her. We were.

photo by Ras/UltraPedestrian.com

I worked to keep up with her speedy kid energy. I focused on running like a girl. Yeah, I said it. I wanted to run like a girl. I let loose. I opened up. I leaped over roots and took turns fast. I laughed and even squealed. I glanced behind me once or twice to see Ras, just to smile at him. I knew he would know what I meant by my looks. We were both having fun. He had on a huge pack full of our picnic supplies. But he was running with youthful vigor too. His locks were flying and he was full of joy at playing a part in helping Amelie to have a blast in the woods.

I felt such love for this guy, going along with the plan for the day. He wasn’t just playing the willing partner, it had been his idea to pack up the tarp tent and all the gear to have our special camp scene. He and I really enjoy sitting down in cool spots when we are out on the trails. It is part of the overall trail life experience for us. We get joy from it and include it on all of our longer trail runs and hikes. Our endorphins are flowing in these times. We can talk about our dreams and goals while in these inspiring environments. All of the home life realities are put to rest.

photo by Ras/UltraPedestrian.com

It is important to me to stay fit and trained enough to run an ultra distance any day of the week. I am not a fast runner or at an elite level. I just enjoy trail running. In order to pull this off, I have to stay somewhat disciplined in my day to day life. I aim to run or hike a minimum of 40 miles a week, unless I am resting from a long adventure or an ultra race. I definitely allow myself rest after a big push, but I do stay focused on getting in the miles each week. I fill out my Nathan Training Log each night. Once I was able to complete my first ultra in 2011, I have never wanted to not be at least at that level of fitness.

I think about what I eat, sticking mainly to low fat, plant based foods. I enjoy sweets and coffee and occasionally eating out, but I mostly eat healthy meals that either Ras or I have cooked. When I’m not out on the trails, or resting from long runs while doing a variety of low-key activities (stretching, hand-sewing trail totems, planning my next thru-hike on the Grand Enchantment Trail for Spring, reading, writing blogs, coloring in my new book, or cooking), then I’m doing hard physical work in yard care. I’ve also added in HIIT several days a week. I’m active and focused on building this life of full time adventuring daily.

To spend the day with Amelie and Ras, not thinking about the time or the pace or the miles, was a blessing in every way. We all benefited from the time spent together in nature, breathing in the fresh earthy scents from the forest. The wind was blowing hard, gusting as we all hiked a section of trail that was close to the choppy water. It was thrilling and made us all smile as our cheeks got whipped with the wind. As we ran together, I felt like a kid. It was refreshing to be amongst such youthful joy and honesty. I enjoyed being playful. It was a good reminder to me. On the trails, set all the seriousness aside. Let out that inner kid and put some playfulness into it. Open up your pace and relax on the downhills. Leap around and over stuff with no thought. I found out I run better when I run like a little girl.

photo by Ras/UltraPedestrian.com

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