Eagle 50 Miler
The race began for the 50 and the 100 milers together, in 4:00 am darkness at the Indian-owned Pow Wow campgrounds, outside of Keremeos, British Columbia. It was warm, about 60°F.
All runners carried flashlights or wore headlamps, which were only necessary for the first 45 minutes. We ran for 9 miles on an inclined road, which became gravel after the first few miles of asphalt. I was at the back of the pack, chatting with John Bandur (age 66, Washington, US, many previous ultras) and Kelly Cole (age 56, Mission, BC, first 50 miler). Gradually they went on ahead, and I entered the Lakeview Trail alone, which was steep, winding upward for 8 miles through the forest. It was beautiful and silent, punctuated only by occasional black chipmunk chirps, and the sound of water rushing through mountain streams. At times when I stopped to catch my breath, my shoes would be at a 45° angle upward on the trail.
Around mile 13, I came upon Pat Amundsen (49, Summerland, BC), who was adjusting his pack, and later on the trail, Ed Johnson (50, Lethbridge, AB), resting to slow his heart rate. As the trail emerged from the trees at the first summit, our Rim Trail destination of snowy peaks could be seen far away through the meadow's open spaces. Way cool, I thought, and gave the first of many thanks for being there, on that day.
The trail then traveled down for a while before ascending another 2 miles to Lakeview Mountain summit, above the alpine level, at 7300 feet. Here Paul Schmidt (52, El Cajon, CA, over fifty previous 100 milers) passed me, a very friendly, experienced trail runner who was only doing the 50 miler, and at this pace, due to a hamstring injury. The trail then descended into the first full aid (Ranger) station, at 6800 feet, at mile 18. While we were there, Pat and Ed both came in. After a sandwich at Paul's urging, I headed out again and began ascending the long-anticipated Rim Trail. Once again above the alpine level, around 8000 feet, Paul caught up with me and kept good company through the first summit, where the trail went upward, then downward over (I was shocked to see) piles of only rocks and boulders, just as we children climbed over at the beach years ago, but these were going straight up for quite a way, then down. The trail markers were cairns (small triangular rock piles) on top of more rocks. Paul pointed out a Marmot sunning himself, a few feet away. It was good to finally have some brief dirt again, between rocks, before the next two summits, at 8300 and 8600 feet. Paul kept going, and Pat and Ed joined me again. We passed a complete family of mountain goats - the dad, several moms, and kids. The summits were full sun and probably about 60° F. Pat and Ed rubbed snow from the sides of the trail on their heads to cool off. From there, the view was 360° of mountains, including the Washington Cascades, far across the US border. Below were deep blue glacial lakes. I took some pictures, but knew they wouldn’t begin to capture the beauty.
After mile 24 we began the descent, this time over piles of sharp rock shale, some stepping, sliding, and on our butts. Pat and Ed had gone on ahead by the time I re-entered the trail through the trees, and some of the day hikers coming up from Cathedral Lodge reported to me that one of them had taken a few scrapes in a tumble. The trail now wound steeply downward through the forest, reaching and going along Ladyslipper Lake. It was tranquil without another soul to be seen. Ladyslipper Trail then ascended another mile until ending near mile 26 where a race official was waiting, and said the full aid (Ranger) station was a mile ahead, again at 6800 feet.
This is where things took a negative turn. As I continued along for another quarter mile, Ed appeared, running towards me from the opposite direction, saying we were on the wrong trail, and that some campers had shown him where we were on their map. There were no trail markers, and I deferred to his more advanced ultra experience. We backtracked down a different trail, but after another few miles of no trail markers, it was obvious that this was really the wrong trail. We were both out of water, as supplies that were supposed to be dropped previously up on the Rim Trail by helicopter, hadn’t been found by anyone. It lifted my spirits at that point, however, to see a mother quail and three chicks run across our feet. We again backtracked to the original trail I’d been on, and finally reached the Ranger station. This full aid station at this point had only water, some coke, crackers and candy. I was wondering how the 100 milers, who would be passing through again hours later, would fare nutritionally.
While lost, Ed and I had added an extra 5 miles to the present 28 mile mark. We’d been in the race for 12 hours. It would take us about 7 hours to finish (we still had another 8200 ft climb to ascend, then descend through marsh and woods), which would be 3 hours past the official 16 hour cut-off time, and 2 hours after dark. There was no communication to the base, to let our families know we were okay. If there had been communication, Ed would have finished the race with me, but he knew his wife would be frantic. He said he was calling it quits. If I continued alone, I would be fueled only with water and gels. If I had reached the Ranger aid station earlier, without the extra 5 miles, I likely would have gone for the finish.(As it turned out, Patrick, who had taken the tumble, and was just ahead of us before our 5 mile detour, did tough it out and ultimately finished in 18:41). The aid station worker said if we dropped out, we should take the access road down for 8 miles, connecting to the final road for 6 miles to the finish. Ed and I both headed down the steep dirt road through the woods. We saw a buck walk past us, about twenty feet away. After 5 miles, a Cathedral Lodge truck came along, picked us up, and we bounced along downward in the open back, finally ending our run at 38 miles.
The website photos about this race understate both the beauty, and the difficulty of the course. The mountainous terrain apparently poses obstacles for communication to aid stations, and challenges to providing enough water stations. This would likely also slow the speed of rescue, when needed. In my opinion, the race would be improved if the full aid stations that are accessible by truck, were better stocked, and if the 50 milers were allowed to leave drop bags. It is a difficult race for participants, and I have no doubt to organize as well. I give Moe Beaulieu, the race director, a lot of credit.
What did I learn? That I have a passion for trail running, and that I will always treasure this experience, on this day. That when a race director calls his race difficult, I will assume that it is an understatement and train accordingly. That I will trust my own instincts on direction, when trail markers are missing. That it was probably smart to have my first DNF ever, during my 20th marathon/ultra distance race. That my experienced friend, Mariela’s suggestion of using Ensure, for fuel, worked perfectly. That ultra-marathoners are some of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. That you can’t necessarily travel thousands of miles north from the heat of Houston’s summer, and expect to feel cool in a race. And that I would love to come back another year, and finish.