MOMAR-ing

September..... Momar time.  Even though we haven't really run in a few months, and I've ridden my little bike once in the last few months, September and the Momar came to pass with no consideration for our pressed-for-time schedule. 

Marc and Joan first raced the Momar about 5 years ago, and there's something kind of addictive about this sufferfest! We've raced it several times since, as a team of four and two, and Burnaby in the spring was going to be our last Momar. 

What's really neat about the Momar is that there are an infinite number of ways you can make mistakes. The navigation legs add a dimension that forces the navigator to make a whole lot of decisions, and allows the rest of the team to practice shutting their mouth and running. I have no sense of direction, but since shutting my mouth is also not my forte, there's always a challenge.  Burnaby, thanks to a very tight orienteering course through SFU campus, and a poorly timed (well-timed? since we had to do Cumby as a result?) thunderstorm threatening to dissolve our map, we may have spent a few extra minutes (or an hour) running around in the rain. MOMAR Cumberland was the rematch! 

The really amazing thing about racing is running into so many familiar people - some people I see only at races but quite consistently, and there are also lots of old friends and riding buddies there, and race organizers that put such an astronomical amount of time and effort into these races and I'm slowly getting to know. The volunteers and extremely encouraging fellow racers add a great energy and positive spin on the effort the race takes, and every year I know more people and come away with all kinds of positive energy! 

Taper week - started with climbing, working overnight without being able to sleep, Marc working with Andrew on his kitchen until the last possible moment, the firm decision to have everything packed at least 2 days in advance....  On Thursday night we packed until around 10 pm, then I slept for an hour and went to work. Off work at 10, slept from 11am until 1 - then Marc was home from Andrew's and it was time to pack the car and get the super-awesome double surfski beast from Deep Cove Kayaks - and hit the ferry. Third last car to get on. PHEW doesn't describe it. Semi-coma in car, sign into Cumberland and head to Joan and Kevin's who they graciously offered to let us riff-raff hang out for the weekend. 

The morning of the race we got up nice and early, drank coffee with Joan and Kevin and then off to the start line. More frantic packing - hadn't we finished this part????? And down to get the map. Joan brought our dogs, Chris showed up to cheer, and we ran into quite a few other racers we know. Lynn even wore her super cool Big Dog jersey! And Pippa was recognized by a racer as the logo! 

Big Dog Biking Jerseys - aren't they AWESOME?  Looking rested, eager, and yes - I do need a haircut. And I have 15 minutes to post this before I have to get downtown and get one, so here goes! 

My tri shorts - look very stupid, but I've tried wearing running shorts over top but they get stuck on the bike seat. And what else can I wear that I can sit in a wet boat for an hour, ride a mountain bike 15 km, run 10 km and never notice them? They're awesome, so stop laughing. 

Start line - all the pretty boats

The double surfski was a gamble that the water would be calm and we would stay upright and be faster than a normal kayak. Not sure how that worked out - because we had to work ridiculously hard to stay upright....

The front seat is sort of a bucket seat sunk nice and deep. That's where the rudder controls are, and Marc can just reach the foot pedals. I have the back seat - which oddly enough is perched a lot higher and more precariously on the hull. I can just reach the pedals, and although the water looks nice and calm, the boat with the race director and photographers came past us about 6 times to get more pictures of racers - and the wake just about killed us. I actually completely swamped once, screamed twice, got rammed by the smart guys drafting us 4 times, and we couldn't catch the surfski just ahead to draft them for an easier ride. We definitely need to learn more about the boat. And I have tendonitis - again - which I knew halfway through the paddle but there was nothing to do other than PADDLE!!!!

We did make it out as the last surfski but before the kayaks, so a nice quick start and avoided the crush of boats when they all come in at once. Don't we look cool here?!

There's no pictures of the next 5 hours because we're running through the woods like little rabbits, then riding bikes.

After the kayak we hopped on our bikes and rode to the trails, and because we couldn't eat or drink in our stupid tippy boat I was feeling a little worse for wear. We chugged a lot of water and some 'tasty' sugary snacks on the way, and decided to ride up the road rather than the trails just to let our bodies replenish some energy. I think riding up the trail may have been faster, but at the time the road was the better decision. Up the double hill to the top of Baker's Dozen - oddly enough the double hill that I used to stop in the middle of for "recovery" was not actually all that hard.... must be the race adrenaline.

On with the runners, get a new map and start running. Uphill of course. This is the first MOMAR where I've seen a mandatory bushwack checkpoint, and I was so glad Marc as the navigator. We hit the trail to the first checkpoint, and as other people ran down to the main road and around Marc just headed straight through the trees in the middle of nowhere, about 5 minutes later we were on Grub - to the end and up a trail - and then he walked us right onto the checkpoint. Same thing again - along a bluff in the trees rather than running around - and up a hill where several friendly cheering volunteers guarded the next checkpoint. We headed down the bluff to the "rough trail" - plan was to hit that, turn right and there would be the bushwack checkpoint - but somehow the rough trail was still too unremarkable because we ran right over it. At the steeper hillside we turned right and explored the top of Cumberland Forest for longer than was pleasant, turned back and did the same again.....  until we finally came out at the checkpoint. Damn. The rough trail by now had a lot more footprints on it, and couldn't be missed....

Running along logging road, down a technical trail... more running....  more running.... more roots that grab my feet... more rocks to catch my fall... We zipped around other runners quite handily, and I liked the guy that said "watch your ankles here" thinking he was talking to his race partner, and we ran down trusting gravity and reflexes. Although passing all those people I felt fast and reckless I could never quite keep up to Marc, but he slowed occasionally and I would put on a sprint in the less death defying bits. Finally the last checkpoint, then up Stub for 10 minutes of uphill pain and down the road to the bikes. Yay!!! I love my bicycle....

More cheerful volunteers handing out water and tasty sugary things, and we headed up the hill to the top of Bucket of Blood. We chose the hike-a-bike rather than the road, and again, I'm not sure what the best way would have been. Marc's legs decided that this race would be a good time to cramp into little knots, and he may have uttered some choice phrases not entirely complimentary to MOMAR adventures.  Finally we hit the lake at the top and headed down the road - and who would we see at the intersection but Al and Terry! I loved seeing all the people I miss during this race - we couldn't have organized as good a reunion! Up the gravel road to the Switchback checkpoint - and to enter the draw I "had to" drink some (extremely tasty) beer. That hardship over with Marc headed downhill - from Switchback into Potluck onto Thirsty Beaver to Teapot and That Dam trail - the longest coolest downhill I could imagine!!!  The bridges were amazing, including the big bermed bridge and the rollercoaster, riding through the burnt out tree and past the giant stump carving - amazing work! The trail was perfect - a bit sticky and a jumpable pumpable cornery delight for a very long downhill run. Marc's legs kept cramping and occasionally shooting straight out over jumps and not coming back under him, so if I went slightly faster than I was comfortable and just enough that the trail was actually just a big blur around me - I could just stay on his wheel. We caught the short course racers including our friend Liz, who also cheered us on - and ripped at ridiculous speed to Allen Lake.

The mystery event at the Lake meant I had to swim with a pool noodle to a checkpoint out in the water while Marc stood up to his waist to punish his cramping legs. Back on land we headed out to Crafty Butcher and downtown Cumberland, then out to Comox Lake for the last orienteering leg.

Definitely looking a little more ragged....  Hour 5.

The last orienteering was a technical collection of hornets, steep uphill trails, steep downhill trails and thick brush. I walked across an 8 inch log 15 feet in the air just to avoid more uphill, which was kind of neat as other competitors bushwacked the gully under my feet. We were a bit tired and stupid, which unfortunately made us wander around repeatedly missing the hollow with one CP, but eventually we had them all and ran back out and to the finish line.

So many things can happen in a MOMAR. I think that must be part of what makes it such a great race! For all the mistakes, there were a lot of things that went right. And because of the mistakes we have to do it again - just to see if we can get it right!


Sunday we rode with friends and dogs - up to Upper Switchback and all the way down, then had an amazing dinner and a well deserved sleep.

Pippa watched the packing on Monday with dismay, having to leave all of Otis's toys behind. Otis refused to come out for a picture because Kevin had left for work without him, and he was sulking.

More friends, more visiting, great food by Chris and Darcee and then a rush for the ferry. And a sailing wait, just because. But we did make it home, and between writing I'm doing dishes, laundry, called my mother, got a haircut and had lunch. 

Marc's drawprize and our second place medal

The End

A "Proper" Adventure

We used to climb... but then moved to the fabled West, and moved a bit too far and onto Vancouver Island where the rock is either inaccessible or short - or Horne Lake hard, and we started mountain biking instead. I love my bike! But this is the story of a climbing trip we've planned several times.  Since we've done the hike in several times, some of the pictures are from other trips. On these other trips we've really just done a long hike and taken our climbing gear for a walk.

Moving to Port Coquitlam means we're only an hour or so from Squamish - and can check the weather, pack the climbing gear or grab the bikes for a day off.

Since we live near Squamish now, we thought we would get a lot of climbing in, so the holiday plan included a week in August that started with us climbing the North Ridge of Mt Stuart, resting up for a day or two and heading to Winthrop to meet friends and run the Cutthroat Classic 10 mile mountain running race. As everyone knows that lives here - summer started in the beginning of August. I do however have a hard time changing plans, especially at the last minute when everything is ready to go and we suddenly realize that "Wait - we have everything - but we've hardly climbed....!"

Day One: Tuesday
Not to be deterred, we left (delayed by 2 days due to  drywallers with a very poor ability to read either watch or calendar....  and other pfaff) for Leavenworth, the Bavarian Village in Washington.
Park at trailhead 9 pm, quick meal and sleep until 1:30 am Wednesday morning.

Day Two: Wednesday
We wake up at 1:30 as planned to find a young man in the parking lot quite panicked - his partner is on the rock fin on the Stuart Glacier with a broken leg and he had hiked back to get cell reception and call search and rescue. Since his partner had food, water, stove and sleeping bag we thought he would be okay until morning. Of course we'd check on him if he was still there, but hopefully he'd be out already.

We set off into the starry darkness. I had my new headlight and it has a bright, semi-bright and red-light feature. Apparently the red light is a new fangled feature not found on other lights, and it helps you see in the dark. I amuse myself for several hours that my headlight has a new fangled feature that helps you see in the dark.
The trail by starlight and headlight is amazingly surreal, and the hours pass without incident. As we near Ingalls Lake and resupply water from this gorgeous lake the sun is just peeking over the mountains, earlier than we'd hoped, but it helps us boulder around the lake.

Ingalls' Lake a few years ago

Ingall's Lake, also a different day, it was too dark yet to get a picture that morning

On the far side we follow the climber's trail to avoid descending into the lush green valley and having to climb back out, and head up and over the pass into the scree gully that ends with my hated ascent over Goat Pass. This scree filled gully scramble hasn't become more pleasant since we've camped here several years ago on our first attempt, but the views from the top are amazing.

Mt Rainier and his bumpy friends

Will Carry Gear for Food

Passing a bivy site where we've camped previously at the West Ridge of Mt Stuart

Mt Rainier and a passing cloud

Since the sun was by now (8 am) high in the sky we assumed that the injured climber would be gone, but he was still lying on the rock fin in the middle of the glacier. We called out to him and he started blowing his rescue whistle in response. We called again, but he kept whistling. Continuously. Marc decided that he would go over to see him while I found our best route to the base of the Complete North Ridge, and I wait at the top of the gully for a few minutes and get some pictures, then follow Marc to the ridge.

Can you see Marc walking across to the rock ridge? 

I need to add at this point that you can do the "Part North Ridge" or the "Complete North Ridge". An amazing climbing friend advised for the whole one, and said it took no time at all as long as you kept moving. Key to success was being light and fast......  and you didn't need crampons, ice axes or other crap you'd just have to carry up. Several sources mentioned not needing crampons or ice axes, and in the spirit of cooperation I agreed to leave my crampons at home if Marc brought his ice axe with him.

Another ugly spot

Marc sat with the injured climber thinking rescue would be any minute now, but after a little while (about an hour and a half) we kept onwards to the base of our climb. The helicopter finally showed up around 11:30 am, just as we reached the base of our climb after slipping across icy glacier in regular footwear. The climbing guide states that you start off the snow at a ledge with trees, then up the lieback crack. Neither snow, a ledge anywhere near snowline with several trees or a lieback crack that extends for any distance are in sight. The only possible way to ascend would involve roping up and going exploring.

But.... it's noon. We have "light and fast" gear selection, and we will starve and freeze stuck on this route overnight. We also can't cross the glaciers easily to bail off once it freezes up again, because it's terrifying already without crampons or the glacier experience to just walk across and self-arrest when you slide out.
So.... we walk back.

Search and Rescue takes people, but leaves gear. We gather the gear strewn all over the rockface so it doesn't blow away and become so much more garbage and we try to pack it - but since the rescuer left all his heavy gear to be able to move quickly we have a pack and a half of gear. With two full packs of our own, this becomes a problem and we move slowly to get all the gear to the top of Goat Pass.

We take out the expensive climbing gear but leave the rest stashed in a small hole in the rock for someone to come and collect and head back down Goat Pass.

After a well-deserved nap in the sun we head back to the parking lot, arriving just after 9:30 pm. Start at 2 am, finished 9:30 pm, we realize we've put in less time than climbing the route but probably more work. We sleep in the car, exhausted. 12 miles, 4000 feet of elevation change between car and the route base, with packs containing about 25 or 30 lbs of unused climbing gear. Blech.

Day Three: Thursday
I wake up around 7 am feeling horrible. I have the shakes and shiver in my down jacket in 20 degree sunshine as we head into town. I drink about 3 liters of water before I start to feel better. We drop the injured climber's gear at the ranger station and we rent crampons, just in case we decide to try this again. Marc eats breakfast while I watch, then we explore Leavenworth a bit and head to the river for a nap in the shade.

Day Four: Friday
We sleep in until around 9 am, then make a leisurely breakfast before heading out for a short climb and going to Winthrop to meet friends. As we drive down the road I text Luisa to say we'll be in Winthrop tonight - but before we have cell service I delete the text as Marc turns the car around. We start hiking around noon.

Attempt Number.....  5    The matching outfits are essential (although unintentional) 

This time we have more gear. Forget light and fast and committed, we're carrying heavier and have a better chance of being able to finish this thing. Crampons, ice axes and food for a bivy at Goat Pass. We fill our camelpack bladders partway at the lake because we know there's melting snowpatches near Goat Pass. No stove - but we left the pack with the other guy's stove at Goat Pass, and without either of us saying anything we both drool at the thought of the hot meal waiting for us. We get to Goat Pass - and the pack is gone already. Boo. The glacier's frozen again, and running water would involve an hour or two to hike around. We'll get more in the morning on the far side of the rock rib where there was running water on Wednesday, and decided not to start until the glacier is softened a bit from the sun to make the crossing less scary.

Dinner is a redi-meal in a bag, edible and the view is phenomenal.

Mt Rainier in the background

Camping alpine style

Moonrise

Day Five: Saturday
We get up at sunrise, the same time as the other party bivied at the Pass. They're heading down for the complete ridge while we strap on crampons and head across the icy glacier to the gully.


I think snow is a lovely thing to make into balls and throw at people. Walking across a steep glacier is terrifying. The rental crampons suck, and Marc takes the pair that won't shorten to fit my feet and tapes them onto his shoes to try to keep them in place. Since the glacier isn't melting yet we chop up as much glacier snow as we can stuff into our camelpack bladders and we never discuss water the entire climb. I walk a bit high getting to the gully entrance and have to descend a short distance directly above all the crevasses. I'm terrified, and I'm so happy to get to the gully! We place rock gear and rope up for the final move which involves ice climbing the frozen side of the glacier into a sand and choss filled loose gully.

Looking back at Goat Pass, the rock ridge in the middle 

Crevasses from the entry to the gully

The gully.... is nasty. There are footprints casually walking up the loose sand and boulders, and the gully runs for 500 feet above us. I can't go back onto that glacier, it was much to scary, so we continue to rope our way up. The key is to have the belay stations in a little alcove so if rocks are knocked loose they won't land on the other person. Our "anchors" consist of slinging a bigger loose rock, or placing one piece of gear in solid rock at the side of the choss. At the top are some lovely bivy sites, and we continue on the real climb. The gully is definitely too scary to go back into, so we'll have to go up the climb. I start leading, and we simul-climb our way along the loose blocks without a definite sense of where to go other than continue up the ridge and hope it all works out somehow. The other group passes us in the afternoon as I do another 5.7 variation on good rock while they walk around the edge of the ridge on loose blocks.  Occasionally there's a downclimb or rappel - which we hadn't thought about but it makes sense that a ridge would involve ups and downs. Routefinding is scary, as I keep expecting to take an easy route around only to be confronted by something unclimbable, but it generally seems to work out.

At 6 pm the other group bivies at the base of the Gendarme and call back to us that there is only one bivy site there and they're planning on staying. We climb one more pitch of lovely solid rock and across the much photographed knife ridge into a lovely alcove. There are no pictures of us climbing the ridge, unfortunately, but we were a bit preoccupied climbing.

Bivy site

Straight down past our feet

Marc eating dinner

Supper is sharing a quarter bag of Snyder's Mustard pretzels (Yum!!!) and a granola bar. The night is comfortable enough - considering our bivy slopes outwards and we can't stretch our legs out without kicking loose rocks. We could have just kicked them off, but watching them fall a thousand feet into the gully would have been more than I could handle, and I tell myself they might be a good windbreak. It's a calm warm night, and we sleep until sunrise.

Sunrise

The Gendarme ahead of us - there's a group of two bivied at the base, and you climb the cracks on the sunny side

The Gendarme... The other group has fixed a rope and the lead ascends the rope rather than climbing. The second climbs but makes it look really very difficult and awful. I take Marc's shoes and ice axe to make it easier for him to lead, and I pray he makes it up without incident because I don't want to have to lead this. I seem to have lost my mojo overnight, and just want to be off this thing!

Marc does an amazing job on the lieback, leading cleanly up and over onto the belay ledge. I follow up and the pitch is amazing - a great lieback that gets progressively harder as the footholds on the sidewall shrink. The very top takes it out of me and I awkwardly exit onto the ledge, breathing as you would expect for someone climbing 5.9 at over 9000 feet with a full pack and two ice axes. I can't lift my head because the pack hits the back of my helmet, and I'm wearing every bit of clothing I brought because it's shady and cold.
Marc takes on the off-width above and again pulls it off in amazing style. I follow - and realize this will take me far too long to figure out. That's the beauty of alpine climbing I tell myself, it's not about style but about getting there, usually quickly if possible. I grab the number 3 cam and haul up on it, place my feet and grab the edge of the crack, then slide the cam up the crack and haul again. My ice axes scrape upwards on the rock, and before you know it I'm halfway up. I remove the number 3, but to my delight the red cam is at the base of the narrower section and can also slide up - and repeat the aid climbing adventure.

We head around and onto the route again, as I look at the Gendarme-alternative - a scree filled gully heading to a ridge covered in loose sand and rock. NASTY!
Route-finding now becomes even more chaotic, with so many options, so much loose rock and generally very easy climbing that seems to serpentine around on the ridge. I could see the headwall at one point and was positively euphoric, but I have no idea how many serpentines it will take to get to it. Marc is leading, and somehow keeps managing to find a way through, up, around or under ledges and rocks to reach yet another bivy site where other climbers have been stuck overnight. One more rappel into a gully, one more pitch twisting around giant detached 20 foot high boulders. One more 1/4 mouthful or water as a reward for getting through one more section of climbing.... Suddenly I hear him talking to someone as I clamber over rocks and realize that we're done with 'up'! It's 2 pm, and we WILL get off this today! We're not quite at the summit - but there is a group descending after doing the West Ridge and they know the way down.

Other climbers on the trail to the descent

Looking back at the summit from the trail

The descent through the Cascadian Couloir is long and relatively easy, but heading down slightly too early and into Ullrich's Couloir is notoriously dangerous and not recommended. I don't care that I haven't touched the summit - I want to find the right couloir! We change into shoes and boots, pack harnesses and gear as fast as possible and eat a half of a dark chocolate bar - our summit treat. It's a little hard to chew, since I'm a 'little' dehydrated. We follow the happy group cautiously down the loose boulders and into the Cascadian Couloir, then strap (and tape) on our crampons to front point down the snowpatch and into the scree filled but relatively low angle gully. I wanted to fill my camelpack bladder with more snow, but the forest below with running water seems so close. An hour later, I really crave some snow, but eventually we reach a lovely cold stream surrounded by flowers and green grass in the grey rock expanse and fill up.

Looking back at the South Side of Mt Stuart

The walk out is on an even trail up and over Long's Pass, then down the switchbacks on the other side. We reach the car at 9 pm, approximately 6 hours after summiting. 11 miles, 5000 feet elevation change with a 1000 foot mountain pass or so thrown in for good measure. I've drank my 3 litres from the stream, which is 2 liters more than in the 36 hours previous. We cook up some food and drive home.

it's been a few months, but for anyone that still reads this....

it's been interesting
we moved to Port Coquitlam
I started a new job
we bought a house
we sold a house - the closing date is this Wednesday
we had a tree branch fall on the sold house.... today.
Marc caught a ferry to try to extricate said tree branch and make it all okay, by Wednesday

and I made the best cookies ever.

Chocolate Chili Cookies

Ingredients

1/2 cup dried cherries

2 tablespoons coffee-flavored liqueur (such as Kahlua®)

2 ounces bittersweet chocolate

4 ounces unsweetened chocolate

3 tablespoons unsalted butter

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper

2 eggs at room temperature

3/4 cup sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 cup chocolate chips

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.

Combine the currants and coffee liqueur in a small saucepan; bring to a simmer over medium heat and remove from heat immediately.

Pour water into a saucepan until about 1 inch deep and place over low heat. Place a stainless steel bowl over the saucepan to form a double boiler. Combine the bittersweet chocolate, unsweetened chocolate, and butter in the bowl heat and stir just until the chocolate melts; set aside.

Stir together the flour, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, black pepper, and cayenne pepper in a bowl; set aside.

Whisk the eggs and sugar together in a separate large mixing bowl until light and fluffy and pale yellow in color, about 5 minutes. Add the vanilla extract; stir. Beat the melted chocolate into the egg mixture until well combined. Pour the currants and chocolate chips into the mixture; then fold in the flour mixture and stir until evenly combined. Scoop 2-tablespoon portions onto the prepared baking sheets with enough space between so they do not run together.

Bake in the preheated oven until barely set, about 12 minutes. Allow to cool on the sheets until they set slightly, about 5 minutes, before transferring to a rack to cool completely.

You should go make some! Get off the couch - go!

Mudride 2011

Once again - it's fall, the rain is falling and "dusty" is not a way to describe the island... so it must be time for our annual mudride. I believe this is the 8th? I will have to check on that...

This year the Remembrance Day weekend seemed like the best weekend for the most people, so we had 3 days off to enjoy the Island with friends. The usual suspects, Paul, Angie and Kala braved the trip from Vancouver along with Alex, and Joan, Michael, Lynn and Tim joined up throughout the weekend for great company, awesome food and spectacular riding in hail, mud, rain and snow....

Friday afternoon we started right after the surprise hailstorm and rode Cumberland in sunshine and LOTS of mud - Thirsty Beaver to 42nd street, across on Steam Donkey to Railroad, Crafty Butcher and across to Missing Link - very nice linkup for some awesome riding. 9 people, 5 dogs, a good time was had by all.

Saturday was time to take in Forbidden - despite the rainy start the weather improved to a pretty white frosting. The trail through the forest was clear but all rockfaces were a bit snowy until lower down. Once we headed over the cable hill hike-a-bike it was damp but lovely and after a few hours we were at Hot Chocolates yet again.

Sunday we headed back to Forbidden to check out Iron Horse and Goat's Head. Amazing traction kept us from falling off the edge of the world into the abyss through several mandatory and immediate left turns following steep drops.

We hit the road and then climbed back up Branch 21 to the Cable Hill hike-a-bike and over lots of wet but sticky rock to end up at the Drop of Doom. Whatever possessed me to follow Marc and Alex over the drop when Michael headed down the bypass.....  But all was well despite the terrifying slip all three of us had after the rollover before the bump ... and the screaming downhill rip after the bump down the wet slippery face.... Marc laid his bike down with his front wheel about a foot from the edge, then stood up to grab Alex by the arm with his front wheel about 2 inches from the edge - and I came to a screaming stop just behind. Over the bridges to the trail - and back to the house for leftovers, a quick pack up, ferries for some and xrays for others....

Xrays are clear btw, and today I'm heading back to Iron Horse for the Tuesday "Girl's Ride". Marc has to stay home and clean house since he can't work yet with his sore hand.

Out for a quick Run

Lovely sunny fall weather in the valley so I headed out for a quick run in my new shoes with my (relatively) new and improved ankle - but it was so nice I drove back, grabbed a jacket and some water and food and headed to Forbidden Plateau.

Up the skihill to the top - I've probably taken this picture every time I've done this hike...

 Little Miss Pippa

The hike up is a bit warm

Luckily it cooled down at the top - bubbles trapped under the ice

 Matilda running into the puddle - if you look closely her head is at the left (ear) and the brown streak is her LF leg

Pippa on wonky bridges

 I ate my Honey Stinger waffle... and got to add some blueberries... mmmm  Blueberry waffles anyone?

 I know, I've lost you already - way too many pictures 'n stuff for the average quick-peak-at-blogs-while-no-one-in-the-office-is-watching - but the lakes were so pretty.

What can I say? The best views for a short walk from home

Turn around time. Could have pushed on another 1/2 hour and been to the very top and back, but having been there numerous times I thought I should head out while the running was good. I did actually run all the not ridiculously steep parts - and the downs as well, which was very surprising. I stopped for photo-ops - which were numerous and possibly why I could keep running. But it could have been the magic shoes?

Amaze-balls shoes - sticky rubber, easy running with no ankle twists!

Up Forbidden to an inch of the summit in 2hrs 20, LOTS of pictures, some snacks on the way, errands before and after the quick escape - all in all a rather productive day. 

Thanksgiving Winthrop Style

I'm not sure how we got on the "distinguished guest" list for Winthrop this year, but given past reviews of the traditional Thanksgiving weekend riding I definitely wasn't about to turn it down! Friday night Marc and I screeched out of Comox after work in time for the 7:30 ferry, and found ourselves on a little windy road in the mountains before too long. Around 2 am we pulled into a house that had the right cars in front of it and bedded down quietly on the sofa, hoping that we were actually in the right place. If we were in someone else's house we only hoped they wouldn't wake us too early to kick us out.
 
As luck would have it, we were in the right home (very lovely) and the next day had breakfast with Aniya - the newest member of the European et al. invasion, Jacek, Gail, Paul, Angie and Chris, landlord extraordinaire. We stopped at the house down the road that was the temporary home of the rest of the intrepid travellers, and then started on our way for a lovely ride in the sun on picturesque Starvation Mountain, land of red fall coloured shrubs and charcoal coloured trees.  

 
After going uphill for a few hours I realized there was a reason not everyone else was going our way. After a few more hours I thought they might have had a good idea, and the thought of sitting in a window seat with a hot mug of tea and some apple pie seemed rather appealing. We finally popped over the pass at 7000 feet for the most amazing downhill I think I've ever ridden, and for once felt sad for those too smart to have joined us. 
 
The first 20 minutes of snow surfing on bikes was a blend of ridiculous and technically demanding biking with very cold fingers. After the snow melted off we followed a fast flowy trail that wound it's way around steep hillsides with pretty fall colours on steep slopes and painful consequences for staring at the pretty colours. A few creeks, a few more uphills to remind us of why we were happy to be done with that part, and the trail just kept going forever! Marc turned off his GoPro just before the near-miss-by-rampaging-cow that gallumphed along the hillside above and crossed the trail to her friends, but he does have some very cool footage. After about a half hour of downhill I had completely forgotten that there was an uphill first, and after an hour and a half of almost continuous downhill we arrived at the cars again.
 
Back at the ranch Gail had dinner ready for us, which was the most amazing welcome. Food was wonderful and I crashed into my lovely soft warm bed much earlier than I'll admit to.
 
Sunday found us feeling a bit mellower, and Paul, Chris, Marc and I eventually headed off to ride up along a ridge and then down through the canyon below. If I could remember the trail name.... it's not a secret, I just forgot it. 

The photographer at work

Looking at the canyon from the top of the ridge

Chris and Paul were on 29'ers, while Marc and I felt like kids on our little short 26'er bikes. Heading into the flowy trail I was trying to stay on Paul's wheel for some obscure reason. The corners were a bit tight for pedalling, so compressing the bike into the corners helped it leap out the far side to maintain this (excessive) speed - until my compressed front wheel touched something on the outside of the trail and I became airborne. I sat on the ground for a few minutes, took an advil and debated the wisdom of trying to stay with the boys after the injury riddled year I've had. Then I gingerly approached my bike and continued on. The trail wound it's way upwards to some amazing lookouts and down through rocky switchbacks which were really quite fun even when ridden with my newly discovered caution. I was quite sad when the trail ended at the double track at the bottom, but the ride back along the canyon floor was peaceful and pretty. And had cows, which did become a theme for the weekend.

Thanksgiving dinner was an amazing spread of appies, wine (traditionally drunk while cooking), salmon, turkey, mashed spuds, sweet spuds, candied sweet spuds, carrots, cranberries, stuffing... and three types of pie. When we couldn't move anymore the lights of the other crew could be seen randomly biking their way across the field to the house, and everyone piled in for a fun evening.
 
Monday morning I thought sitting in a comfy chair would be ideal, so the bike seat was a bit of an unwelcome surprise. We rode up a logging road in the drizzle for a while, encountering more cows (and cowboys this time as well) and then up singletrack for longer than I felt truly necessary. 

Clean pre-bike ride people

Bikes and Cowboys - and there is a herd of cows in front of the riders

Top of the uphill

Once again the uphill was completely forgotten once we hit the flowy fast trails through yellow grass and bright fall colours in the fog. Angie has suddenly become a downhiller without our knowledge, and she followed my wheel through several kilometers of flowing trails as we swooped our way around the hillsides. 

Andy in red zipping down the hill

Angie in blue ripping it up

The group way down below me

After the ride we piled our muddy selves into the car and after a shower and some awesome leftovers we headed back into Canada and onto the ferry. Home at 2 am - there's starting to be a trend with the 2 am bedtimes that I can't say I appreciate, and luckily - back to work to rest up a bit for the next adventure.