It was quite a coincidence to have a friend loan me the above-titled autobiography of Ranulph Fiennes, just before I was heading out on the night recce of the High Peak Marathon. Mr. Fiennes has been quite a fixture in the HPM, (a night-time navigational challenge through the bogs and moors of the Peak District), although that seems to be the least of his accomplishments!
Ran, as his friends call him, was the first to journey around the world via the polar axis (through Antarctica and the Artic ice-caps). He later was the first to cross Antarctica on foot, by pulling a sled behind him weighing up to 500 pounds. He has also summitted Mt. Everest, climbed the north face of the Eiger, completed 7 marathons in 7 days on 7 continents, and participated in a few extreme adventure races.
I quite enjoyed the book, I found his writing to be conversational, witty, and easy-to-read. I also seem to be (quite unintentionally at first) educating myself in the history and lore of British sport, at least where long-distance running is somehow involved.
At times I think of myself as an extreme athlete...or at least my more moderate friends and coworkers do! However, after reading this book, I can safely say that there is a lot of extreme-ness left in the world that I have no desire to emulate. For example, I don't want to pull a heavy sled over ice crevaces in antarctica, or get frostbite from falling into melting ice-slush in the Arctic. I don't think the 10% chance of dying after summitting Mt. Everest sounds like very good survival odds, nor do I want to bivy in a flimsy tent in -50 F temps while wearing the same clothes for 1/3 of a year in a row. But that's just me. It is quite entertaining to read about, though, from the safety and warmth of my living room couch!
Dawn - Sometimes An Ultrarunner
February 23, 2011
February 12, 2011
Mountain Biking, Hamsterley Forest
The journey I took today marks the farthest north I have penetrated into England, as we loaded up the mountain bikes for a day out in Hamsterley Forest. I actually had no idea where it was until I got back today and looked it up on the map. A day out like this does wonders for biking confidence, though, so I'm glad I took this trip, in the name of preparation for future Adventure Races...
Hamsterley Forest, sitting on the east side of the Pennines, immediately reminded me of the deep, dark forests that I loved so much in Germany. England tends more toward open moors, so it was fun to be pedaling under the tall pine trees. On the other hand, once the fog cleared, the sun actually came out, but we didn't see to much of it in the shadows.
Hamsterley Forest contains many miles of purpose-built mountain biking trails, including beginner up to expert singletrack, plus a down-hill only trail where the big boys get some serious air-time. We started out with a short skills loop, where the brave can navigate obstacles like bridges, rocky descents and sharp turns, and the not-so-brave can ride next to the obstacles and swear to never go over them. Then we headed out on the red trail, which is a medium-hard course, about 12 miles long. It consists of hill-climbing, forest trails, and single-track, with a newly added swooping downhill adventure loop.
It has rained a lot recently, so we were splattered with mud right from the start. After getting warm on the climb up the first hill and through some muddy singletrack, I attempted to cross a swollen stream. The high water concealed the fact that there was a deep crevasse in the rocks, and as my front tire settled into it, I found myself cavorting over the front wheel and onto the rocks. In slow motion, I then realized that I had landed on the other side of the creek, but that my feet were still in it, and now soaking wet. The bike was fine and so was I, and since I was wet already, I also attempted to cross the next ford, a bigger stream, instead of taking the bridge. Unfortuately I forgot to pedal when I hit the deeper water and cobblestones in the middle of the rushing water, and walked out instead, wet up to my knees. I took a little ribbing from the group at my mis-adventures, as least until another member got stuck in a bog and took a header into the muck, eating a faceful of black mud. He looked like a member of the black lagoon until we got back to running water in the bathrooms by the car park!
The rest of the day was an attempt to keep my body warm, but I faced a losing battle with my feet. Our group of six had a varying ability set, so we stopped often to allow everyone to catch up, and I could never seem to warm up. Even the thrills of the newly created singletrack and the banked corners weren't enough to warm me up. We liked it so much that we climbed the hill to do it again, and I tried running (and pushing my bike) up the hill to get my feet to feel anything but numb.
It was a relief to return to the final two-way section of the red course and get back to the parking lot. We hosed off our muddy bicycles and changed into dry clothes for the ride home. As I've determined to now buy a mountain bike, as part of my dream to complete an adventure race this summer, I hope I can come back and ride this trail again to improve my biking skills. I will however, try to find a day when it isn't 40 degrees and very muddy. Oh, and I'll try to keep my feet dry!
Hamsterley Forest, sitting on the east side of the Pennines, immediately reminded me of the deep, dark forests that I loved so much in Germany. England tends more toward open moors, so it was fun to be pedaling under the tall pine trees. On the other hand, once the fog cleared, the sun actually came out, but we didn't see to much of it in the shadows.
Hamsterley Forest contains many miles of purpose-built mountain biking trails, including beginner up to expert singletrack, plus a down-hill only trail where the big boys get some serious air-time. We started out with a short skills loop, where the brave can navigate obstacles like bridges, rocky descents and sharp turns, and the not-so-brave can ride next to the obstacles and swear to never go over them. Then we headed out on the red trail, which is a medium-hard course, about 12 miles long. It consists of hill-climbing, forest trails, and single-track, with a newly added swooping downhill adventure loop.
It has rained a lot recently, so we were splattered with mud right from the start. After getting warm on the climb up the first hill and through some muddy singletrack, I attempted to cross a swollen stream. The high water concealed the fact that there was a deep crevasse in the rocks, and as my front tire settled into it, I found myself cavorting over the front wheel and onto the rocks. In slow motion, I then realized that I had landed on the other side of the creek, but that my feet were still in it, and now soaking wet. The bike was fine and so was I, and since I was wet already, I also attempted to cross the next ford, a bigger stream, instead of taking the bridge. Unfortuately I forgot to pedal when I hit the deeper water and cobblestones in the middle of the rushing water, and walked out instead, wet up to my knees. I took a little ribbing from the group at my mis-adventures, as least until another member got stuck in a bog and took a header into the muck, eating a faceful of black mud. He looked like a member of the black lagoon until we got back to running water in the bathrooms by the car park!
The rest of the day was an attempt to keep my body warm, but I faced a losing battle with my feet. Our group of six had a varying ability set, so we stopped often to allow everyone to catch up, and I could never seem to warm up. Even the thrills of the newly created singletrack and the banked corners weren't enough to warm me up. We liked it so much that we climbed the hill to do it again, and I tried running (and pushing my bike) up the hill to get my feet to feel anything but numb.
It was a relief to return to the final two-way section of the red course and get back to the parking lot. We hosed off our muddy bicycles and changed into dry clothes for the ride home. As I've determined to now buy a mountain bike, as part of my dream to complete an adventure race this summer, I hope I can come back and ride this trail again to improve my biking skills. I will however, try to find a day when it isn't 40 degrees and very muddy. Oh, and I'll try to keep my feet dry!
February 5, 2011
Open5 Adventure Race, Yorkshire Dales, 6 Feb 2011
What an EPIC day out! Today was the kind of day where normally I wouldn't set foot outside the house except to run to the car. Horizontal rain, gale force winds, floods, more rain, bigger floods. Oh, yeah, except I had a running/ mountain bike race over the tops of the Yorkshire Dales fells.
The UK has been battling through some high winds the last few days, hence the 68 mph wind gusts recorded near my house on Friday. But I was hoping that they would blow through and be gone, and the ever-changing forcast reflected my hopes, with projected calm winds for the duration of the Open5. That is, until the morning of the race, when they suddenly jumped back up to gale force and beyond again. Oh, and rain. A lot.
This, my second adventure race, was held in Kirkby Stephen, in the Yorkshire Dales. I recruited my friend Adrian to go around with me so we couldsuffer participate as a team. As we left my driveway with the windshield wipers already waving furiously, we sort of looked at each other and shrugged, like, hey, we paid for it already, why not go do the race. Hah. At the start hall, the signs were up notifying us that we were required to carry waterproof clothing, and warning us not cross the ford on our way to the race start but to use the footbridge.
With maps in hand, we stayed warm and dry a few minutes more in the hall, going over possible routes and other team decisions. We decided to bike first, as the wind was predicted to get stronger later in the day. But before we could start the race, we had get to the start/finish/transition area, which oh, by the way was three(!) miles up the road from where we had to park the car. The rain continued, so we layered up with full waterproof top and bottom, gloves, and hood. The puddles were already full as the rain continued, so even on the bikes, our feet were totally soaked in those first, uncounted three miles. Along the way, we came to the ford and footbridge, where the rushing water already looked like it could carry away a car, and we slogged through ankle deep water before carrying the bike up and over the walking bridge.
The transition area was a farmer's field, so saturated with rain that every step sent more water surging into my shoes. We wrapped our transition gear in a plastic bag to keep it dry while we raced, but the wind gusts blew open my bag while we were gone, soaking it all. By the time I came back to it, I was totally soaked as well, so it didn't really matter. We headed out on the bike first, got the list of control point descriptions, and hurredly replotted our route based on the points each were worth. Our first point took us back over the ford footbridge, and then up onto the moorlands. It was at that moment that we discovered the wind was much stronger than anticipated, and blowing the worst over the tops of the fells. At times it was all I could do to push my bike up the hillside, trying not to get blown over sideways, enduring the stinging pellets of horizontal raindrops, and barely able to see through my fogged-up sunglasses.
It was a sufferfest during the hours we were out on the mountain bike. At times we found ourselves barely moving forward, even going downhill, as the 60 mph+ wind gusts impersonated a solid wall impeding our movements. But on occasional sections, we were on paved roads with the wind at our backs, and really flew. I swear the wind actually blew me UP a few hills and I wasn't even pedaling. Many of the roads had major flooded sections (flat roads + high curbs + rain = standing water), and I learned that I could actually ride through water so deep that each turn of the pedals gave my feet a dunking. After a few such episodes, I started hitting the flood sections at full speed, laughing hysterically as a V of water jetted up from my wheels.
Photos of the day, none of me :( are on Open Adventure's Facebook page They brilliantly show the floods that I can only describe in words...
Oh, and here's an actual video of the event, thanks Simon for posting this!
After three hours, our feet were frozen and it was time to get some running in. We ditched the bikes, and Adrian got to experience his first Bike-to-Run transition, which as you can imagine, hurts quite badly. We started out as a shuffle, picking our way up the moors until our feet got some pins and needles of feeling back in them. In a moment of insanity (it was worth a lot of points) we aimed for the control at the Trig point on the fell summit. The winds were blowing even harder by that time, and each step required leaning into the wind. We then scoured the map for points in the valleys instead, and started heading down with the wind. The screaming wind, I should add, prevented me from hearing a single "beep" of the dibbler controls the entire day...at times we couldn't even shout to each other and be heard, and I kept a death grip on my map lest it end upat the North Pole in Scotland.
I have never experienced such a wet, windy day in my life. After a short time, my feet were so wet I couldn't even tell I was squelching through water anymore. Normally I kind of dance around muddy gate openings, but it didn't even matter this time....over 5 hours, I probably stepped in or pedaled through thousands of puddles. Amazingly enough, my shoes never got sucked off my feet. And my bike by the end, far from being dirty, was cleaner than when I got it out that morning. A 5 hour car wash, of sorts! We finished with a few minutes to spare, packed up our soaking kit from transition, and congratulated each other on surviving.
The final three miles back to the car, we had the wind gusting at our back, busting through more sections of flooded road and generally soaking anything not already wet. Arriving at the ford, we were shocked to see that it had risen even higher, requiring walking in water over our knees to get to the start of the footbridge. A river in flood is a very scary sight. Turns out that it had crested just at the moment we were going over it. (See chart below)
At some point during the day, Adrian turned to me and said, "There is no way that anyone will understand how bad it was out here...it's undescribable." The entire day was about surviving. The wind, the rain, the puddles, the floods, the fog, and the chill. We speculated that if it had been a few degrees colder (it was about 45 degrees out) we would have become hypothermic instead of energetically pedaling through the puddles to keep warm.
The UK has been battling through some high winds the last few days, hence the 68 mph wind gusts recorded near my house on Friday. But I was hoping that they would blow through and be gone, and the ever-changing forcast reflected my hopes, with projected calm winds for the duration of the Open5. That is, until the morning of the race, when they suddenly jumped back up to gale force and beyond again. Oh, and rain. A lot.
This, my second adventure race, was held in Kirkby Stephen, in the Yorkshire Dales. I recruited my friend Adrian to go around with me so we could
 |
| Photos courtesy of Open Adventure |
The transition area was a farmer's field, so saturated with rain that every step sent more water surging into my shoes. We wrapped our transition gear in a plastic bag to keep it dry while we raced, but the wind gusts blew open my bag while we were gone, soaking it all. By the time I came back to it, I was totally soaked as well, so it didn't really matter. We headed out on the bike first, got the list of control point descriptions, and hurredly replotted our route based on the points each were worth. Our first point took us back over the ford footbridge, and then up onto the moorlands. It was at that moment that we discovered the wind was much stronger than anticipated, and blowing the worst over the tops of the fells. At times it was all I could do to push my bike up the hillside, trying not to get blown over sideways, enduring the stinging pellets of horizontal raindrops, and barely able to see through my fogged-up sunglasses.
It was a sufferfest during the hours we were out on the mountain bike. At times we found ourselves barely moving forward, even going downhill, as the 60 mph+ wind gusts impersonated a solid wall impeding our movements. But on occasional sections, we were on paved roads with the wind at our backs, and really flew. I swear the wind actually blew me UP a few hills and I wasn't even pedaling. Many of the roads had major flooded sections (flat roads + high curbs + rain = standing water), and I learned that I could actually ride through water so deep that each turn of the pedals gave my feet a dunking. After a few such episodes, I started hitting the flood sections at full speed, laughing hysterically as a V of water jetted up from my wheels.
Photos of the day, none of me :( are on Open Adventure's Facebook page They brilliantly show the floods that I can only describe in words...Oh, and here's an actual video of the event, thanks Simon for posting this!
After three hours, our feet were frozen and it was time to get some running in. We ditched the bikes, and Adrian got to experience his first Bike-to-Run transition, which as you can imagine, hurts quite badly. We started out as a shuffle, picking our way up the moors until our feet got some pins and needles of feeling back in them. In a moment of insanity (it was worth a lot of points) we aimed for the control at the Trig point on the fell summit. The winds were blowing even harder by that time, and each step required leaning into the wind. We then scoured the map for points in the valleys instead, and started heading down with the wind. The screaming wind, I should add, prevented me from hearing a single "beep" of the dibbler controls the entire day...at times we couldn't even shout to each other and be heard, and I kept a death grip on my map lest it end up
I have never experienced such a wet, windy day in my life. After a short time, my feet were so wet I couldn't even tell I was squelching through water anymore. Normally I kind of dance around muddy gate openings, but it didn't even matter this time....over 5 hours, I probably stepped in or pedaled through thousands of puddles. Amazingly enough, my shoes never got sucked off my feet. And my bike by the end, far from being dirty, was cleaner than when I got it out that morning. A 5 hour car wash, of sorts! We finished with a few minutes to spare, packed up our soaking kit from transition, and congratulated each other on surviving.The final three miles back to the car, we had the wind gusting at our back, busting through more sections of flooded road and generally soaking anything not already wet. Arriving at the ford, we were shocked to see that it had risen even higher, requiring walking in water over our knees to get to the start of the footbridge. A river in flood is a very scary sight. Turns out that it had crested just at the moment we were going over it. (See chart below)
 |
| Check out the peak of the flood stage - 15:00, right when we were finishing the race |
At some point during the day, Adrian turned to me and said, "There is no way that anyone will understand how bad it was out here...it's undescribable." The entire day was about surviving. The wind, the rain, the puddles, the floods, the fog, and the chill. We speculated that if it had been a few degrees colder (it was about 45 degrees out) we would have become hypothermic instead of energetically pedaling through the puddles to keep warm.
We were pretty happy with the 300 points we collected, and hoped that the atrocious weather had kept a few of our competitors in bed so we could win a prize. But alas, it seemed all the fast teams were there as well, and our best effort put us 6th out of 29 in the mixed team category.
Today, I've finally found the answer to the question. You know, the question that everyone has been asking me since I started running marathons, then ultramarathons, then triathlons, then Ironman triathlons, and now my real dream, adventure racing. They ask, "Why do you do it, when it hurts so much?"
Well, these were easily the WORST conditions I've ever experienced outdoors, and when I found myself not just surviving, but thriving, I couldn't peel the grin off my face. I felt ALIVE.
But I'll still keeping looking for the answer...just in case there's a better one. :)
But I'll still keeping looking for the answer...just in case there's a better one. :)
January 30, 2011
That's Lyth, 23.5 mi, 30 Jan 2011
With little fanfare or celebration, my 40th marathon has come and gone. In fact, I've just now realized while logging my mileage, that it was indeed #40. Sure, "That's Lyth" is a few miles short of a real marathon, but since I count my ultramarathons as just one marathon, I figure it all averages out.
That's Lyth was a wonderful event in Kendal in the Lakes district, made even better by the cooperating weather. Temps were right at freezing, but the calm air and frozen trails made for easy going. The views were obscured by thick, muggy air hanging around, but I was watching my feet most of the time, so I'm not sure I really missed out on much. I'll have to come back someday for a walking tour on a sunny day, to see the valley and scars properly.
The event is sold out every year, meaning that the start hall was seething with 400 folks by start time, but it's easy to see why it's so popular. The trail is easily runnable, with nice downhill sections, some flats, and the obligatory uphills. The trails were mostly wide and easy to run, saving for one particularily steep section coming down Whitbarrow Scar. Perhaps 30-40% of the trail is actually on pavement, which suits me fine. A few sections went through some nice forests peppered with Holly bushes, and it was a nice change from the open moors. Across the middle section of the Lyth Valley, our fitness was tested with a few very flat easy miles on a paved trail, which begged to be run. As that section came at about mile 17, I manged a 6 mph shuffle and felt pretty good about it. Reduced to a walk on the final uphill over Scout Scar, it seemed to take forever, but I was still able to run down the final miles into town, to finish in 4:31.
But perhaps what makes the event so popular is not the trail itself, but the well-stocked checkpoints (3 of them) with hot food and drinks, plus a great variety of rolls, cookies, and soup at the finish. Probably the best spread I've seen so far at an event, and all for a measly 4 pound entry fee. That's Lyth is also non-competitive and un-timed, so I think many folks took a little extra time for tea stops along the way.
For me, the best part of the trail came near the end, when I realized that for probably the first time ever, my feet were still clean and dry when I finished. :)
That's Lyth was a wonderful event in Kendal in the Lakes district, made even better by the cooperating weather. Temps were right at freezing, but the calm air and frozen trails made for easy going. The views were obscured by thick, muggy air hanging around, but I was watching my feet most of the time, so I'm not sure I really missed out on much. I'll have to come back someday for a walking tour on a sunny day, to see the valley and scars properly.
The event is sold out every year, meaning that the start hall was seething with 400 folks by start time, but it's easy to see why it's so popular. The trail is easily runnable, with nice downhill sections, some flats, and the obligatory uphills. The trails were mostly wide and easy to run, saving for one particularily steep section coming down Whitbarrow Scar. Perhaps 30-40% of the trail is actually on pavement, which suits me fine. A few sections went through some nice forests peppered with Holly bushes, and it was a nice change from the open moors. Across the middle section of the Lyth Valley, our fitness was tested with a few very flat easy miles on a paved trail, which begged to be run. As that section came at about mile 17, I manged a 6 mph shuffle and felt pretty good about it. Reduced to a walk on the final uphill over Scout Scar, it seemed to take forever, but I was still able to run down the final miles into town, to finish in 4:31.
But perhaps what makes the event so popular is not the trail itself, but the well-stocked checkpoints (3 of them) with hot food and drinks, plus a great variety of rolls, cookies, and soup at the finish. Probably the best spread I've seen so far at an event, and all for a measly 4 pound entry fee. That's Lyth is also non-competitive and un-timed, so I think many folks took a little extra time for tea stops along the way.
For me, the best part of the trail came near the end, when I realized that for probably the first time ever, my feet were still clean and dry when I finished. :)
January 27, 2011
Extreme Running - So many races, so little time.
I've been mentioning a few of the longer races lately, and it seems I am really starting to dream big. I mean, why just run a marathon, when you can go out there and endure the pain of multi-day, multi-stage, uber-tough races that will make the legs feel like jelly and the brain like mush?
When I put it that way myself, well, I still think a few of these sound fun. The trick is to fit them into the schedule of my life in the next few years, and then try to train for them, not get injured, and actually do one (or more). Here's a few of the ones that make me shiver in dread, but still contemplate doing:
Marathon Des Sables: After seeing the nasty blisters (in full HD color) of a few previous competitors, how could I not want to do this race!?! I do love sand dunes, though, and our visit to Erg Chebbi in Morocco a few years back was a true highlight of our travels. (Photos on our website, under Europe A-M: Morocco2. I know, it's in Africa, not Europe, I really need to add a tab to my menu for Africa. And get rid of Frames so I can link directly to a page. Someday)
The Comrades Marathon: Ok, it's not a marathon, it's really 56 miles long, and in South Africa. And there is an ABSOLUTE 12 hour time limit. But it's only the HUGEST ultramarathon ever. This one has kept coming back up on my radar over the years, and in 2012, it is a "down" year. Perfect for me, I might even make the time cutoff with a few downhills to help out! I'm a slow runner, if you haven't figured that one out already.
The Athens Marathon: To qualify to run the Comrades Marathon, I must run a road marathon. Evidently all these rough British fell races don't count towards the big one. So why not run the original "marathon" route from Marathon to Athens? Coincidentally, in 2010, it celebrated it's 2,500th year. How extreme is that?!?
Ultra-Tour Du Mont Blanc: Thanks Nick, for putting this one on my radar. Doing the circular hike in a week or two, as most folks would choose, also sounds fun, but quicker is always better, right?
The Bob Graham Round: Big. Scary. 27,000 feet of elevation over 60 odd miles, and I have to arrange for my own support. And finish in under 24 hours. It didn't sound so hard, until I read about how many people fail a few times before they succeed (if ever). I think I should go take a hike in the Lakes District to see if I even enjoy the terrain over there, before thinking too hard about this one.
A "Real" Ironman: Yes, I've done two Ironman-distance triathlons, but that's a mouthful, and what I really want to claim is a the M-Dot. Now I just need to find the perfect one, preferably one without a lot of cold weather, rain, freezing lakes, or high winds. Oh, and not too many hills on the bike, either. I mean, the distance is tough enough on a nice day, why make it harder on yourself? I'm still looking. And trying to convince myself that Ironman UK and Ironman Wales would NOT be good choices, even though they are close to home and easy to get to. The water will be freezing at both of them, and oh by the way I am a slow swimmer too...I many never make it through the swim in 14 C degree water, much less the other events.
To aid me in finding a few other crazy events, I picked up a book called Extreme Running by Kym McConnell and Dave Horseley. It's a summary of the great ultrarunning events on every continent, with nice photos, sort of a coffee-table book. Just the facts, really, don't expect many personal tales, but it is coinciding nicely with getting my future dreams all sorted out! I won't call them New Year's resolutions, or even a plan, but it's always good to dream.
When I put it that way myself, well, I still think a few of these sound fun. The trick is to fit them into the schedule of my life in the next few years, and then try to train for them, not get injured, and actually do one (or more). Here's a few of the ones that make me shiver in dread, but still contemplate doing:
Marathon Des Sables: After seeing the nasty blisters (in full HD color) of a few previous competitors, how could I not want to do this race!?! I do love sand dunes, though, and our visit to Erg Chebbi in Morocco a few years back was a true highlight of our travels. (Photos on our website, under Europe A-M: Morocco2. I know, it's in Africa, not Europe, I really need to add a tab to my menu for Africa. And get rid of Frames so I can link directly to a page. Someday)
The Comrades Marathon: Ok, it's not a marathon, it's really 56 miles long, and in South Africa. And there is an ABSOLUTE 12 hour time limit. But it's only the HUGEST ultramarathon ever. This one has kept coming back up on my radar over the years, and in 2012, it is a "down" year. Perfect for me, I might even make the time cutoff with a few downhills to help out! I'm a slow runner, if you haven't figured that one out already.
The Athens Marathon: To qualify to run the Comrades Marathon, I must run a road marathon. Evidently all these rough British fell races don't count towards the big one. So why not run the original "marathon" route from Marathon to Athens? Coincidentally, in 2010, it celebrated it's 2,500th year. How extreme is that?!?
Ultra-Tour Du Mont Blanc: Thanks Nick, for putting this one on my radar. Doing the circular hike in a week or two, as most folks would choose, also sounds fun, but quicker is always better, right?
The Bob Graham Round: Big. Scary. 27,000 feet of elevation over 60 odd miles, and I have to arrange for my own support. And finish in under 24 hours. It didn't sound so hard, until I read about how many people fail a few times before they succeed (if ever). I think I should go take a hike in the Lakes District to see if I even enjoy the terrain over there, before thinking too hard about this one.
A "Real" Ironman: Yes, I've done two Ironman-distance triathlons, but that's a mouthful, and what I really want to claim is a the M-Dot. Now I just need to find the perfect one, preferably one without a lot of cold weather, rain, freezing lakes, or high winds. Oh, and not too many hills on the bike, either. I mean, the distance is tough enough on a nice day, why make it harder on yourself? I'm still looking. And trying to convince myself that Ironman UK and Ironman Wales would NOT be good choices, even though they are close to home and easy to get to. The water will be freezing at both of them, and oh by the way I am a slow swimmer too...I many never make it through the swim in 14 C degree water, much less the other events.
To aid me in finding a few other crazy events, I picked up a book called Extreme Running by Kym McConnell and Dave Horseley. It's a summary of the great ultrarunning events on every continent, with nice photos, sort of a coffee-table book. Just the facts, really, don't expect many personal tales, but it is coinciding nicely with getting my future dreams all sorted out! I won't call them New Year's resolutions, or even a plan, but it's always good to dream.
January 25, 2011
Bicycling Fuerteventura
I know you Brits make a national sport out of discussing the weather, but isn't it nice to get away from the cold and wet for a while as well? No excuses really, as the low-cost airlines can sometimes bring you down to the Canary Islands for less than the cost of a nice dinner at a restaurant. My new plan is go to south once in a while to top up on some Vitamin D. Fuerteventura was our latest jaunt, and wow was it nice. We got lucky with the weather, it wasn't windy at all while we were there, so we had sun and warmth galore. Great to go running in just shorts and a t-shirt in the dry air with no chance of rain! We did some hiking as well, walked in the sand dunes (lovely!), and saw some Moray Eels while Scuba diving. We even got to see the full moon rise over the ocean. But mostly, the roads in Fuerteventura are made to be bicycled on, and I can't help raving about them. I rented a mountain bike (only because the shop had no road bikes), and went out riding on the roads of Fuerte. With the weather cycle of very light winds during our visit, it was gorgeous bicycling weather. The island is fairly volcanic, but the grades on the roads tend to be fairly gentle, so it never seemed too difficult.
I went out biking several days in a row, and even went around the hilliest loop on the island, through Betancuria. It turned out to be the nicest mountain loop I have ridden in years, maybe ever. After quite a steep climb up to about 600 meters out of Antigua, the road turned downhill, and I zoomed through Betancuria and a few other small towns. Another short climb, and then it seemed like miles and miles of swooping downhills, with the ocean in the distance and the morning sun in my face. The traffic was light, almost non-existant, and the smooth blacktop was free of bumps, rocks, gravel or anything dangerous. It is quite a sparsely populated island, and in the hills, apart from the beautiful new road, it was hard to believe anyone lived nearby. The wintertime sun meant that it wasn't too hot, and that I wouldn't get sunburnt too quickly, and that there was time to savor the views of ocean, beach and mountains. Anyway, I loved the biking in Fuerteventura, hope you enjoy the photos, and perhaps I'll bring my own bike someday for a longer tour of the island roads....
Facebook photos of the hike, and other adventures on the island are HERE.
January 24, 2011
Zarza Peak, Fuerteventura, Canary Islands
By reaching the top of Mt. Teide on Tenerife on my own steam, I think a tradition has now been started. Here's to reaching the highest point, on each Canary Island we visit! Thankfully, Fuerteventura wasn't nearly so difficult. Pico de la Zarza, as it is named, reaches only to 2664 feet above the sea, making it 9534 feet lower than Mt. Teide. Located at the southern end of the island on the Jandia Peninsula, it is part of a half-moon of hills that resemble nothing more than a crater when seen by satellite. Given that the islands were formed by volcanic activity, it probably IS a very old crater. After some confusion in finding the parking area (note to self: read internet directions more thoroughly before leaving home), once found, the trail itself was almost impossible to lose. It was wide, signed, and went mostly straight up from the oceanside in Morro Jable, to a wide ridge leading up to the peak. In fact, the trail, like the good roads on the island, was better than any trail I have followed so far in the UK. It was gently graded, volcanic rock, passing through a few stunted bushes and a whole lot of rocky nothingness. The first ridge overlooked a defunct golf course on the left and an equally defunct quarry on the right.
The town on the beach, Morro Jable, is known for a strong German contingent of sun-seekers, unlike our own resort farther north, where English breakfasts reign supreme. To make our presence more acceptable to the hordes of weiner-schnitzel eating folks below us, I said "Guten morgen" to all the hikers we met on the trail. They seemed to enjoy it.
We got quite lucky with the wind (the island wasn't named "Strong Winds" for nothing), and there was nothing but a gentle breeze as we hiked up the hill. In fact, the warmth and sun made it a spectacular day, and a great hike. It wasn't until the very top that we could see over the lip of the crater and down to the ocean on the other side. Although there is a 4x4 track leading to a small village on the NW side of the peninsula, there are no other roads or settlements. We perched over a sheer drop, to peer in awe at the vista, and we could see miles of untouched coastline. We could even hear the roar of the ocean, as lines of waves rippled into shore. It seemed like a great place for a future backpacking trip, except for an absolute lack of potable water. Hmmm.
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| Rob says he looks like he is wearing a diaper here, but really it's my favorite new pack, the Nathan Intensity Race Vest. Sticks like glue to my back when I run, I love it! |
From ocean to peak, it was about a 9 mile round trip, but nicely runnable on the way down, so a new favorite trail of mine. I calculated in my head, that it was only take about 8 trips up the mountain to equal the distance and elevation changes of a Bob Graham Round....perhaps next time we visit? If only the BG would really be that easy! But wait, there are more islands to be conquered yet, no return trips for me. Famous last words....
Here's the peaks of the Canary Islands, if you are curious:Tenerife 3,718 m Mt. Teide
La Palma 2,426 m Roque de los Muchachos
Grand Canary 1,949 m Pico de las Nieves
El Hierro 1,500 m Pico de los Malpaso
La Gomera 1,487 m Garajonay
Fuerteventura 812 m Pico de la Zarza
Lanzarote 670 m Penas del Chache
For those of you who are asking why I don't attempt Mt. Snowdon in Wales, Scafell Pike in England, and Ben Nevis in Scotland, well, they are on my list as well. It's just not quite as warm and sunny there right now as in the Canaries :)
Facebook photos of the hike, and other adventures on the island are HERE.
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| Zarza Peak in the distance, with the trail leading along the ridge up to it. |
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| A bit of sparse vegetation (finally) after just bare rocks alongside most of the route. |
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