Running Heart Mountain

View of Heart Mountain from Japanese Internment Camp

Last week, my family and I made a pilgrimage of sorts to Heart Mountain, Wyoming.  Heart Mountain is near Cody, Wyoming.  It was beneath Heart Mountain that my grandparents on my dad's side spent some years in a prison camp aka internment camp because they happened to be of Japanese descent and living near (meaning within several hundred miles of) the West Coast when Pearl Harbor was bombed.  As a child, I visited Cody, Wyoming and got a sense of where Heart Mountain was.  This time, I took my children to Heart Mountain, and I developed a much keener sense of what Heart Mountain was.

Exhibit at the new Heart Mountain
Interpretive Learning Center

The reason my family chose this time to visit Heart Mountain is because of the opening of the Heart Mountain Interpretive Learning Center.  We attended the dedication of this memorial and heard from the likes of Tom Brokaw, Senator Daniel Inouye, Congressman Norman Mineta, and Senator Alan Simpson. Among other things, these men commended the internees of Heart Mountain for their response to the injustice done to them by their fellow citizens and their own government.  They encouraged those present to see that such an injustice never occur, again.

I was heartened to hear the speeches given by these men, but nothing had more of an impact on me than just being there.  Although Cody, Wyoming is one of the gates to Yellowstone, in August, it is sun scorched and burnt yellow.  It's desolate.  I've heard it's that way in the winter too, just whiter and colder.  I imagined what it would have been like to be herded onto a train, and then after a 3 day ride with the shades drawn, walk out onto the platform to see Heart Mountain.  I imagined what it would have been like to be fenced in with Heart Mountain looming in the distance.  I imagined what it would have been like to live in a tar papered barrack with my small children during the fierce Wyoming winter.

I doubt my grandfather or grandmother ever climbed Heart Mountain.  While they were interned, I'm sure they had other things weighing on their mind, like whether a Stanford degree would ever be useful in their world, what might they would do if they were ever released, or whether they really were second-rate citizens. And on top of that, there were the barbed wire fence and machine gun towers.  I suppose those would have impeded a run to Heart Mountain.

So it was with a sense of gratitude that I ran up to the top of Heart Mountain.  Yet, I suppose there was also a sense of confusion.  Why is it that I am able to run free, but others cannot?  And at the same time, I was saddened; sad because my grandfather was unable to express the kind of freedom I feel running, unimpeded to the top of a mountain.

I will never know endurance and suffering like my grandparents knew it.  But I know that without it, I will not be complete.

L to R: me, White Brother Mark, Brother Aaron, Uncle Roman, White Brother Danny
Because of a jam-packed day, our only opportunity to run Heart Mountain did not come until it was dark.  

Speedgoat Here I Come!

Pioneer Day Pentapitch

In Utah, July 24th is a state holiday, celebrating the day when the Mormon pioneers arrived at the Salt Lake valley and Brigham Young proclaimed, "This is the place!" Granite was important to the early settlers, and the LDS church still owns a mountain of granite in Little Cottonwood Canyon. Granite is important in modern times for a variety of other reasons . . .

Today, Brother Sam, Anne, and Cousin Isaac celebrated the 24th of July and the discovery of the Wasatch by climbing some granite in Little Cottonwood Canyon -- Pentapitch.

Top of Pentapitch.  Anne aka Sweetie, Isaac, Sam aka Sweetie
 (Sam and Anne are partners in climbing and in life and refer to one another as "Sweetie")

Go Sweetie(s)!  Anne at the top of the Pentapitch.  Sam is on the crux of the route and led it with ease, but only after I shouted, "Go Sweetie.  You've got it Sweetie.  I love you Sweetie."  He apparently responds well to that.  Me?  I plugged a cam in a finger crack, and pulled on it

Sam belaying Isaac and Anne.  Isaac wore that grin the whole of the last pitch.  "Isaac, did you pull on my cam?"  "No."  "Oh."

The rap out.  Two pitches.

Transition: Ski to Run

Since July 1st, I've tried to be a runner.  Several months ago, I signed up for the Speedgoat 50k, which occurs on July 30th.  At the end of last year's Speedgoat I vowed that I would be back and better.  By July 1st of this year, not having really focused on running yet, but motivated to keep my promise to myself (at least to run Speedgoat again; have some major doubts about being better though), I began a mini training cycle.

Between April and July, I have done a few runs and hikes and one marathon.  On top of that, I have done several longish days (7-8 hrs) in the mountains, probably every 10 days or so, mostly in ski boots.  Fitness-wise, that has given me a base.  And I'm encouraged that my body is acclimated to those longish efforts.  But what about running-wise? 

Since July 1, 2011, my training is summarized as follows:

10 runs

95 miles (mostly in the mountains on technical trails)

26,000 vertical gain

That small block of training has been fruitful.  By Saturday (7/16), I was toast.  On that day, Andy Dorais, Tanner and I ran from Wasatch Blvd. to the Canyons resort, which ended up being just shy of 23 miles and 7500 vertical.  We started off with Grandeur (3k vert in 2 miles), went off the other side, hit the Pipeline, ran up the Millcreek Freeway to Big Water, up the Great Western trail to the divide, and down to Canyons resort.  On the ups, I had nothing.  That was due in part to the 15 miles I did the day before.  I could barely hike, and Andy and Tanner had to wait for me.  But I was encouraged to know that I'd get some good over-distance and over-compensation as a result, so I plugged along.  Surprisingly, the downhills felt ok, and my feet (which have been a limiting factor since I started running last year) felt relatively good.  

From now until Speedgoat, I'll continue my training.  I won't do a full taper because I really haven't done a full build.  And I think I'm resigned to the fact that Speedgoat will just be a training event for things to come later in the year.  Still, I'm looking forward to it.  And I'm looking forward to employing a pacing strategy.  

Question for experienced ultra runners or endurance specialists:  In a 50k or 6 hour (more like 7+ for me) event, do you make a conscious effort to keep your efforts under threshold?  Or are you willing to pin it on the up and hope to recover in other places?

Grand Teton: 5 hrs 17 min

Jason Dorais, Andy Dorais, and I went back to the Grand for a speed attempt.  We got it done in 5 hrs and 17 minutes.  I'd like to write something that expresses what went into this project, how I feel about it, and why.  I hope to get to that someday soon.  For now, here are a few links to some reports on the trip and the "proj":

http://www.tetonat.com/2011/06/26/grand-teton-ski-descent-speed-record-set/ (I've expressed some of my thoughts in the comments section.)

http://www.powdermag.com/stories/assaults-grand-teton/

http://slcsherpa.blogspot.com/2011/06/grand-teton-ski-descent-speed-record.html

http://jasondorais.blogspot.com/2011/06/6-28-2011-speed-attempt-of-fordstettner.html

http://teton.outerlocal.com/skiing/grand-teton-speed-project-reader

http://www.getstrongergolonger.com/journal/2011/6/27/grand-teton-time-standard.html

Lone Peak: Up Big Willow, NE Couloir, Down Bells

NE Face of Lone Peak, January 2011

I see Lone Peak almost everyday.  From my car and my work at window, it often holds my attention.  What's it doing today?  While it is situated quite closely to the valley, the approach is long by Wasatch standards--you can't drive to its base and start climbing.  And that's one of the characteristics that makes it my one of my favorites.

Friday night, when Lone became the target, good partners were hard to come by.  The Dorais bros were running RAGNAR, Brother Sam had to work, Bart is still out of commission.  So it became a solo mission.  My plan was to drop a bike at the Bell's Canyon trailhead, climb up from the Big Willow trailhead, ski the NE Couloir, ski out Bells Canyon, and ride my bike back to the Big Willow trailhead. 

I've heard different things about Big Willow as a way to get up Lone Peak.  If you look at it from the valley, it is a very direct way to go.  More direct than Bells or Dry Creek (which departs from Alpine).  Fritzrips says Big Willow the way to go.  But I've heard horror stories about Big Willow too, all of which involve epic bushwhacks.  I've never been up Big Willow and approached it with a bit of trepidation.  I figured that at worst I'd get an early morning hike in.  Luckily, my inner homing pigeon was functioning, and after a couple hours, much travail with caterpillars and their silky wisps, I was at the head of Big Willow cirque.  For those who might try Lone Peak via Big Willow, I'll give you a hint: the Sawmill Trail.

My Dynafit boots, MontBell puffy, CAMP nanotech crampons, ski crampons, and a bottle of water fit nicely in my 30L pack.  Besides a few gels, a headlamp, Whippets, and skis that's pretty much all I carried.  From 5500 ft where the trail starts, I fast hiked and sometimes jogged up the trail.  By 9000 feet, I was in the cirque and walking on hard snow.  Travelling conditions were prime, so I kept my running shoes on until the cirque steepened, at which point I switched to my boots, race skis, and ski crampons.  

Big Willow Cirque, June 2011

The other side of the "Notch."

Near the top of the cirque, I gained a ridge, mostly hard snow and a few granite blocks.  I tried to put my crampons on, but realized that they were set to fit a different pair of boots, and didn't fit the ones I had on.  Without tools to fix them, I went without crampons.  (In hindsight, I guess a mini Leatherman doesn't weigh that much.  Maybe I'll carry one from now on.)  Going crampon-less made the the final ascent and traverse to the summit a bit more adventuresome.  

Traverse to the top of Lone Peak.

I topped out on the North Summit in 2 hours and 59 minutes.  And promptly texted this photo to my buddies.

  

As I was climbing the cirque, I was thrilled that the snow was hard.  But I worried that I was too early for the corn cycle.  As it turned out, the NE face of Lone Peak corns up about 8:00 a.m., which is about the time I skied it.  

As I made turns off the headwall of the NE Couloir, I thought I'd hit the jackpot.  But soon I found myself dodging runnels.  Because of a very deep (like 6 feet) runnel, midway down the chute, I had to ski a contrived line, and eventually had to downclimb into the runnel and then climb out of the runnel to continue my contrived line.

The chute within the chute.

As I neared the bottom of the NE Couloir, I was relieved to discover that the cliff was still sufficiently filled in. While there was a large glide crack--huckable if you were crazy enough--between the cliff and the snow, the crack was skirtable.  As I reached the apron, I breathed a sigh of relief, and arced my turns a bit bigger.  Then, I skied a couple thousand feet of corn, out Bells Canyon.

Eventually though, I ran out of snow.  I think I startled several scouts and families as I ran down and out the Bells Canyon trail with skis on my back, wearing a weird grin on my face.  That didn't deter me much because I was hoping to keep my car-to-car time under 5 hours.  But the inner homing pigeon must have died because at Bells reservoir, I got turned around.  Weird, I know but it happened.  At the exit, my bike was waiting for me.

Bells Canyon.  I started running up this road before I realized I ought to be running down this road.

My waiting bike.  DON'T LAUGH AT MY RIDE!  Yes, it is a women's styled bike.
And yes, I can sit perfectly upright on this bike -- perfect with a ski pack on.

 After a leisurely cruise down Wasatch Blvd, I made it back to my car.  I clocked in at about 5:11 car-to-car.  At the trailhead, I met Chris Cawley who had made an attempt on the Grand Teton earlier this week and was out for a trail run.  He laughed at my ride too.

Mode of Travel: Ski, Run, Bike
Stats:  5:11
Miles: 14.9
Vert: 6528

Spring Wackiness

6.13.11 -- The Pfeif

Obligatory Ridge Shot
Pfeifferhorn

I've not yet given up on skiing. I think I'll be doing that until at least July, which means that I'm going to be a really crappy runner this year. Oh well. . .

This morning (on June 13th!) before work, Billy Demong and I skied from the White Pine TH to the top of the Pfeif, traversed out of Maybird and skied a shot into Red Pine, climbed Lake Peak, and skied a shot into White Pine, and then skied out.  We started out in trail shoes, but very quickly, we realized that we could pretty much skin from the car, and changed into our ski boots.  For those interested, coverage up high is very good.  Skiing is variable, but generally good early in the morning and especially up high.  We were skinning by 5:30 and done by 10:00 am.

Billy chatting with a sponsor on his way up:  "yeah, just out for a little training this morning. . . on the Pfeif."

Shot into Red Pine

Pfieff, Hogum, and Lightning Ridge in the background.  I think I found Snap Dragon!  Finally.

6.11.11 -- San Rafael aka Little Grand Canyon Canoe Trip

On Saturday, I got to spend some time with my family on the San Rafael River.  It's a seasonal river that is floatable at 300 cfs.  On Saturday, it was pushing 1000 cfs.  We had one close call when my dad and his canoe and got swept under a big cottonwood tree that had fallen across the river.  Floating through the 17 mile stretch without having to expend a whole lot of energy was welcome.

Ethan (my son) enjoying the San Rafael.

6.8.11 -- Olympus West Slabs (Up this Time)


On Wednesday morning before work, Jon Schofield, Tom Diegel,  Jason Dorais and I did our attempt at a fast and furious "run" up the West Slabs.  Having "skied" it a month or two ago, and inspired by Jared Campbell's 1:01 car-to-car time (wow!), I was anxious to give it a shot.  I figured if we could "ski" a 5.6 rock climb, we ought to be able to solo it.  Good logic right?  Our time was nowhere near Jared's, and the glissade down the Apollo Couloir was almost scarier than skiing the West Slabs.  But it was a success and something I might incorporate into my routine this summer.  Here are a couple video links that document some of the shenanigans that occurred:  (a) Jon descending Apollo in style, and (b) Jon's good friends, courtesy of Jason Dorais.

Me and Tom climbing.  Tilt was intentional.  Photo: Jason Dorais