Day One

Ambitious for ambition, I decided today to start streaking.  No, not running nude.  Running consecutive days.  After my last streak (that ended with 56 days), I thought, “Did that.  Don’t need to do it again.” 

Well, I think I do need to do that again.  I need to kick-start my fitness.  I need to kick-start my love of running.  I don’t know how long I will streak.  Perhaps I will try and break my record. 

Day one of my streak I got a late start in Laguna Coast Wilderness.  9 AM weather was still cool, the skies were overcast.  I set out on Bommer Ridge amongst several hikers, mountain bikers and runners.  Yes, runners!  I saw more runners on the trail today than I think I’ve ever seen on a trail run.  Within an hour, I probably came upon twenty runners.  Festive!  About that time, the sun broke through the clouds too.

View from Bommer Ridge:

The weather warmed up tremendously before I turned off onto Old Emerald, a lovely single track that winds down into Emerald Canyon.  Mountain bikers flew by me all the way down.  I lost them in Emerald Canyon when I turned off onto Old Emerald Falls.  The bikers continued up Emerald Canyon back to Bommer Ridge .

Old Emerald Trail:

Heat bared down even harder as I ran Old Emerald Falls.  To make matters even more difficult, the landscape was dry and exposed.  My pack contained plenty of fluids, but I really could have used some ice in my cap.  I took in a lot more heat than I expected and looked forward for this never ending lonely trail to end.  Not a pleasant experience.

Old Emerald Falls (I have no idea where the falls are/were!):

Matters didn’t improve much when I finally hit El Moro.  I really don’t think there’s a single piece of shade on that trail.  After a while, I began to think I was running the longest trail ever!  When I finally got a look at the grand Pacific Ocean, I was ready to jump head first into it.  I would have if I could have.  My saving grace was an occasional breeze.

I ran into the parking lot on my way to No Name Ridge where I would close in this giant loop.  I guzzled down at the water fountain and washed my face with cold water in the restroom.  With about half my fluids remaining, I didn’t refill my pack.  Why didn’t I refill my pack?  Because I was lazy.  Yes, LAZY.  I broke one of my hard fast rules, which to ALWAYS refill.  I paid for this big time. 

The heat continued to bare down on during those last four up hill miles.  With about two miles left, I sucked down that last of it.  All I could think about was water.  Water and shade.  I brought my energy level way down.  And I finally found a bit of shade beneath a kiosk where I sat to cool down for a few minutes. 

I knew I wasn’t going to die or stroke out or anything like that.  There were plenty of hikers at this point, that if my situation got crucial, I could beg water off.  Still, the last two miles were pretty dang miserable. 

Making my way up No Name Ridge on my way back to the truck:

My little piece of shade:

I made it to a drinking fountain before my truck.  After guzzling down I washed my face.  Then I guzzled down more.  Feeling better, I took off my hot shoes and socks, and relaxed in an air-conditioned car before taking off for home. 

Day one was a huge struggle. 

After a cold bath at home, I’m all better.

 

The loop:  Boomer Ridge, Old Emerald, Emerald Canyon, Old Emerald Falls, El Moro Ridge, B.F.I., No Dogs, No Name Ridge.

Take Two

Today’s run ended my “rest while running” time.  I thought it apropos to end my “rest” by attempting the run that seemed to set the downward spiral in motion during my training last September. 

I set out running Bommer Ridge in dense fog this morning headed for Old Emerald.  I took a wrong turn last time, which resulted in pure HECK.  This morning I accidently took Bommer ridge down to Willow Trail, which I do every single time.  That was no big deal.  I just had a short uphill run to get back on track.

 

I came upon one other runner on this lovely, yet eerie morning.  He turned around and joyfully hollered a greeting.  Bundled up from head to toe, I couldn’t tell right off if I knew the man.  I mean, he kind of looked familiar.  “Do I know you?” I asked.  (I say that more than ever now that I’m a trail runner).  Turns out we didn’t know each other.  My friends and family who don’t run trails think that this sport is small.  And it is.  BUT to me, it’s a huge sport.  I constantly come upon people at races and on the trails that I’ve never seen before. (And I stay in my own state!)

Anyway, a thick gray coyote looked on at me through the mist as I ran onward searching for Old Emerald Trail.  I felt certain I missed it last time because it was not marked.

I focused off to my right for an unmarked single-track.  Eventually, I found a distinct single-track.  Unmarked.  It didn’t look familiar.  But keep in mind, when I run Old Emerald, I run up it.  I ran down Old Emerald just once. 

So, I ran that single-track down the hillside and told myself firmly, “If you get into trouble, TURN BACK.”   I noticed bike tracks, no footprints.   Nothing looked familiar.  With the fog so thick, I could not make out my surroundings very well.  Then finally, I noticed a ledge down below that could probably give me a good view.

From the ledge, I could see the meadow I was aiming for, way, way off in the distance.  Problem was, there was a ridge between me and the meadow.  I was on the wrong trail.  It’s pretty much a straight shot to the meadow from Old Emerald.  I would definitely remember having run over another ridge.

So, I ran back up that single-track, a little proud of myself for not taking the trail anyway, just to see what would happen. 

Back on Bommer Ridge, I came upon another single-track.  I ran a short distance of it, to the edge, before its descent.  I could still see that ridge.  Wrong trail.  And so, I continued onward, confident that I would find Old Emerald because here and there I could see an outline of the ridge that separated the canyon from my meadow.  Sure enough, soon after the other ridgeline sloped down to nothing, I came upon this trail:

Unmarked?  It may seem so.  I felt vindicated.  That is until I turned around and saw the trail marker, clear as day on the left edge of Bommer Ridge.  I ran down Old Emerald with great focus and renewed energy.  At the bottom, I ran probably twenty-five feet before I came to Old Emerald Falls Trail.

Entering Old Emerald Falls:

The meadow!

The climb out of Old Emerald Falls was a chore.  It was single track, and in places technical, which took my mind off the difficulty.  From there I caught Moro Ridge and ran it all the way to the ocean (well, I had to take a couple other trails).  I saw these two, seemingly tame deer as I made my way down B.F.I. Trail:

Running beneath Hwy One for a view of the grand Pacific:

From there it was all uphill, a lovely, cool uphill.  The last run of my “restful running” couldn’t have turned out better. 

Should Have Turned Back!

I went out for 16 trail miles late this morning.  I was READY.  I had my fluids, my calories.  Hubby was going to pick up the boys from school.  Opting for something semi-different today, I decided on El Moro (the coastal hills in Newport Beach).  Unfamiliar with the trail mileage there, I had only a general plan in mind. 

I ran along a lonely, sunny Bommer Ridge, hopeful for a nice fulfilling run.  I admired the Top of the World across Laguna Canyon.  I looked at Santiago Peak wistfully.  Then I decided to tune-in and look into El Moro Canyon.  That’s when I realized I had missed my trail.  So I turned around and took the first unmarked trail down into Emerald Canyon.  I thought Old Emerald was unmarked, though I wasn’t sure.  But this sure seemed like Old Emerald . . . AT FIRST. 

The trail grew tighter and steeper. And I began to think I had taken the wrong trail.  I broke my own rule concerning situations like this.   I should have turned back.  Oh how I should have turned back. 

Running down what I thought was Old Emerald Trail:

It grew so steep, I slipped and fell.  I had to scoot down over large boulders.  The brush grew thicker  and I found myself sliding, face forward.  And when I landed on my behind, sticks and small branches slipped beneath my shorts and underwear and stabbed my bear butt.  Ouch.

And then I found myself boxed in.  I really, really should have hiked back up to the ridge.  But I was so worn out, I just couldn’t do it.  Big mistake. I followed all forks to discover the brush impenetrable.  Eventually, I spied a trail through the thickness, a trail that I recognized as Emerald Falls (Or maybe it’s called Emerald Canyon).  Either way, it’s a portion of the trail that has been closed for a couple years, so destroyed it was by massive rains.  If only I could get to this trail I could get back on track.  But a large ravine with ten foot walls separated me from this trail, not to mention, massive brush growth. 

I

I managed my way into the ravine, falling of course.  I popped up right away and scoured the area, left and right for a way up to the other side.  There was absolutely NO WAY up.  But I did notice a tree in the distance growing next to the edge.  Holding my handheld with my teeth, I grabbed a branch with both arms, pulled myself up  and climbed the trunk with my legs.  I sat in v-section for a bit to gather my wits.  Then I scooted from the tree to the bank’s edge.  Really.  No lie. 

Popping up after my slide-fall-run into the ravine:

My tree:

Yup, sitting in the tree (got to document it all! : )

Now on the the other side, I’ll tell you – I STILL SHOULD HAVE TURNED BACK.  I was stuck in the midst of a tight thicket.  A thin, thorny vine wrapped me like a cocoon.  “Push through it,” I told myself.  “Push.”  Everything time I tried to break through, the vines tightened and tore at my skin and clothing.  I thought about reaching into the back of my pack to see if I packed my knife.  But I was growing so weary, I didn’t think I could reach back.  I used my hat to push down some of the brush on my right side.  Then struggling, I lifted my right leg high and stomped down on the brush.  I did the same with my left side, and continued on this way until I finally made it to the trail.  I was beat. 

The trails won today.  I don’t usually consider myself playing against the trails.  I play with the trails.  But there are those days like today . . . when I should have turned back!

“Get me the heck home,” was all I could think.  My legs were bloody and scratched.  Welts covered my arms and legs as well.  I wanted so badly to madly sob.  But I really just didn’t have the energy.  The only thing I had the energy to do was run.  I kicked up my feet and ran back up to the ridge and all the way back to my truck, for a total of 8 miles today. 

I’ve been “out of sorts” all day.  Why, why, why, do I break my own rules?  I thought I learned in Texas when I got lost, that I need to turn back and go the same way I came AS SOON AS I REALIZE I’M OFF-TRACK.

It’s not just trail running . . . IT’S AN ADVENTURE!

Finally making it to the trail:

A last glimpse at Santiago Peak:

Just about a mile left:

Station to Station

For a while now I’ve had this notion to do a run that connects 3 local trail systems:  Crystal Cove, Laguna Coast Wilderness and Aliso/Wood Canyons.  And so I woke early this morning and walked down to the bus stop in the dark and stood there waiting in the cold fog.  I was so happy to see the bus finally pull up that when the doors opened I said, “Ahhhhh, warmth!”  To which the bus driver replied, “Well, where’s your clothes???!!”  He started my morning with a good laugh, and when I told him I was going running, he looked out into the dark fog, laughed and said “You’re crazy.”  I put my dollar fifty into the slots, sat down and continued to crack up every single time he picked up or dropped off a passenger.  He had something funny to say to everyone.  (That man deserves a raise!)

Though it was no longer dark when I arrived to Crystal Cove, fog was thick.  Very few cars were parked in the lot as I walked up to it.  Off to the side, a lone coyote, plump and larger than usual (at Aliso/Wood they’re scrawny)stood looking over us.  He seemed so eerie standing there against the fog, like he was a werewolf about to change as soon as the fog cleared.  Coyotes roam in packs, so I had to wonder what the heck he doing all alone out in the open like that.  When I took out my camera to click a picture, a car drove by and the coyote was off.  Note:  sure way to get a wild animal to leave is to take out your camera and try to get a picture. 

At Crystal Cove Ranger Station ready to run 

I began running up El Moro Canyon with my ipod turned low and pepper spray strapped to my wrist.  I was a little worried running a desolate trail in dense fog that I’ve only run once before.  The fog though lifted quickly, probably just a couple hundred feet in elevation.  By then, I felt strong and happy to be on this running adventure. 

From the canyon I took a little detour up “Slow and Easy” which I ran at a slower pace but I wouldn’t exactly call it “easy.”  (On the other hand, it wasn’t hard – I still felt strong.)  At Bommer Ridge, I checked my maps and headed off in search of Old Emerald Falls Trail in Laguna Coast Wilderness Park.

El Moro Canyon

My map didn’t exactly show where Old Emerald Falls Trail connected.  I’ve run this trail before, always with someone else.  And we’ve always had a hard time finding it, since it is unmarked at the top.  I figured if I ran down Moro Ridge, I was bound to find it.  And that was what I did.

Well, I didn’t find my trail.  I studied my map again and again, asked a hiker passing by, and then another.  And then the trail was lonely again.  Except for a bobcat simply sitting in the middle of the road.  I stopped running, because I didn’t want to run past the cat.  As I walked the cat slowly turned and walked away from me, stopping to bask in the sun here and there.  She was toying with me.  As I got closer and closer walking at a moderate pace, she didn’t speed up one bit.  In fact, she actually took a step or two toward me.  I stopped, waved my arms and yelled, “Get going kitty!!”  That darn cat!  She wasn’t afraid of me.  So I stopped and simply stood there looking at her.  And then my camera malfunctioned and I couldn’t get even one picture.  After some minutes, I took out my phone to snap the one below.  Finally, the bobcat meandered off into the brush. 

After the cat was gone, I continued running the ridge when I realized there was no way, according to my map that I should have been running this far without finding my trail.  So, I turned around and ran back up the ridge.  Approaching Bommer Ridge again, I took a turn off onto a trail that didn’t really look like a trail.  Within minutes I recognized it all – that lovely single track that goes down, down, down into an immense wet meadow.  I was finally on my way!

View from Old Emerald Falls Trail

Approaching the bottom of Old Emerald Falls

I took another look at my maps at the end of Old Emerald Falls Trail and headed down Emerald Canyon Road for a bit to find Old Emerald Trail – another climb up to the ridge.  Somewhere on that trail, I lost my maps.  Duh! (My husband still can’t believe it.)

Old Emerald Trail

At Bommer Ridge again (mapless), I knew to turn right.  But I didn’t remember how to reach Laguna Bowl Road, I asked a biker, he didn’t know.  Then I saw a guy running Bommer Ridge barefoot.  I ran with him a bit, asking him how to get to my trail.  He was going down a different way and didn’t know about the bowl.  He asked where I was parked, thinking I was trying to get back to my car.  I told him I took a bus and was running Crystal Cove Ranger Station to Aliso/Wood Ranger Station.  That’s when he gave me a double look with a squint in his eyes like what the heck are you thinking???  I didn’t remind him that he was the one running barefoot : )))

After we parted ways, I came to Laguna Ridge Trail, I wasn’t sure what to do.  I thought perhaps I should run it, but it went off in the wrong direction.  So I called my husband.  He got onto the internet and guided me in the right direction.  I eventually came out of this park via Laguna Bowl Road landing myself on Laguna Canyon Road, not too far from the Sawdust Festival.

Bommer Ridge looking toward a socked-in coast

Some street running along Laguna Canyon Road to cross at a light on Canyon Acres Road

Finishing up two parks didn’t really do me in.  It was the climb to Top of the World that did it.  First off, I could see the climb I would be making from across as I ran Bommer.  I knew it was going to be a bear.  I psyched myself out.  Secondly, I didn’t have a trail map.  And most importantly, it’s one HELL OF A CLIMB.  I also took one turn on the way up that added more distance than I needed.  I actually took two phone calls on the way up too (the modern world!). 

The first thing I said upon reaching Top of the World was “Thank God.”  And then a young man repaid me for all my questioning of other runners and hikers across the canyon by peppering me with questions about the trails.  I answered them all, nearly breathless. 

The beginning of my hellish climb up to Top of the World

Very excited to reach Top of the World where I refilled on water

I ran across Top of the World utterly fatigued.  Plopping one foot in front of the other, I didn’t feel good about my run, despite the great fun I had through the first two parks.  In Aliso/Wood I felt weak, like all my training wasn’t helping, otherwise I wouldn’t be so beaten.  I had to remind myself that the climb up to Top of the World was extreme and Calico’s 30k doesn’t have anything like that. 

I didn’t “fly” down Meadows like I prefer.  But I did run it all the way to Wood Canyon.  I took a few hike breaks along the last trail (Aliso Creek, which I don’t really consider a trail since it’s paved).  I arrived to Aliso/Wood Ranger station more mentally beaten than physically.  Since my husband couldn’t pick me up right away, I had plenty of time to stretch and relish the breezy shade.  And soon there was a smile back on my face. 

Meadows Trail

Sitting outside Ranger Station in Aliso/Wood Canyons Park

  

Elevation Profile:  18.53 miles logged, +3,515 / –3,509