Catching Up

With life getting increasingly busy lately, I have fallen behind recording my runs.  So, in an effort to quickly catch up, here’s a picture recap of my last run (Wednesday of this week):

Turning Back

I almost didn’t make it out the door for my Sunday run.  I so didn’t want to make the drive, 30 minutes of it off-road.  And I so much didn’t want to climb a mountain.  Why on Earth did I go?  Because I knew that I would love it.  Eventually. 

The time read 7:10 when I finally hit the dirt road into Trabuco Canyon.  From there it was another slow, bumpy thirty minutes to the trailhead.  Two other cars were driving out of the canyon.  I saw no others driving in.  But at the Holy Jim lot, a group of 8 or so hiker/runners set off up Holy Him.  And a few men and possibly their young sons prepped for a hike. 

I took off up Trabuco Trail, destination: West Horsethief.  Seriously, I would prefer never to look at that trail again, much less travel up it.  It’s miserable I tell ya!  Miserable!  I decided to run a counter-clockwise loop because I’d rather run the remote trails first and the more travelled ones later when I’m more apt to get sick or injured.  (I never see anyone on Horsethief, always see people on Holy Jim.)  And so, I trotted up Trabuco, through shady forest and then rocky desert terrain, without a single thought of Horsethief.  The flies were minimal, the breezes delightful, and the scenery gorgeous. 

I didn’t even think about Horsethief when I finally arrived after three miles.  It’s just too steep and relentless to think about.  I also didn’t fret about travelling up the switchback too slowly.  I didn’t think about “how much longer.”   I played my old trick – one foot in front of the other, until the misery was gone.  And when the misery was finally gone, elation set in. That’s what I was waiting for.

I carried with me about 110 fluid ounces of liquids, and picked up an additional 40 on The Main Divide from a secret stash.  It’s tough to run carrying so much water.  I’ve got to do it on these hot summer days.  And I do love The Main Divide.  I’d carry 500 fluid ounces if I had to.  I get views of Orange, Riverside and San Bernardino Counties.  I can see Lake Elsinore and Lake Matthews.  And of course, off to my left, there’s the grand Pacific Ocean.

My original intent was to run The Main Divide all the way to Santiago Peak.  The towers stood out in the distant, seemingly within reach.  I knew it was going to be a long day, but felt confident that I had the strength to do this.  I didn’t see anyone along The Main Divide.  The weather heated up and I rested twice in the shade to cool my body temperature. 

Cooling my temp. in the shade:

At about mile 8.5 I decided to cut off some of The Main Divide with a so-called short-cut up Upper Holy Jim.  The trek was steep.  And the trek was hot, terribly hot.  It felt like my inner body temperature was beginning to boil.  I let out a groan when I crashed through an elaborate spider web, and stopped in every spot of shade to cool down.  But it seemed that I’d heat up again within minutes.  My eyes stung from salt dripping off my forehead.  And to top it off, I felt lightheaded.  With no relief in the incline, shade completely disappeared.  I stopped in the sandy single-track, washed my face with water from my handheld and poured the remaining over my head.  80 fluid ounces down, I still had 70 ounces in my pack to go. 

Looking back on The Main Divide from Upper Holy Jim:

And then I started to see colored spots, yellow to be exact.  That’s when I decided that I didn’t really feel like almost dying today.  Making the peak was just not worth getting heat sick or worse.  Without another moment’s thought, I turned around and began trotting back down Upper Holy Jim.  I noticed a truck racing along the divide, kicking up clouds of dust.  Other than that, the mountains were desolate.  Then suddenly, two hikers popped out in front of me as they made their way up the trail.  The girl (or rather, young woman) was red-faced, desperate, she said, for a breeze.  The boy (oops, I mean, young man) was smiling, but struggling too I could tell from the heat.  It was afternoon about 12 noon.  I cautioned the two hikers to cool down occasionally, and went on, like a mother, to instruct them in the methods of cooling off.  

About a mile later, I arrived to Holy Jim, for a long, hot run down the giant switchback for a total run of 15.27 miles.  I met and chatted with a hiker with long white hair making his way up Holy Jim.  He was well equipped with fluids.  Yay!  I made it to my truck healthy, having avoided getting sick, happy that I had made the decision to turn back.  Pretty quickly, my legs cramped and continued to mildly cramp throughout the day.  More proof that I really needed to turn back.  Here’s to knowing when to turn back!!

Glorious shade, ready to descend on Holy Jim:

Marijuana Bust

Friday I got out by noon and drove along the toll road for a run in Crystal Cove and Laguna Wilderness.  I had forgotten that nearly every time I run there I think I will never return.  Why?  Because so dang little shade.  Somehow, I always find my way back, and smack in the middle of a summer afternoon.

I arrived to Ridge Park, the hills in Irvine/Newport that overlook Newport Coast, amidst loud and chaotic excitement.  A couple helicopters flew above dumping marijuana plants onto a pile in the middle of the road.  Police vehicles and news vans crowded the streets.  To top it off, spectators drove in and out of the one opened area, laughing and talking, excited about the smell of marijuana in the air. 

The marijuana fragrance was strong and stayed with me for a while on the dry hot trails.  I ran right through the commotion, thinking that law enforcement would stop me.  They didn’t, but I did notice a news camera following with its lens, and I thought, “FUDGE!  I don’t want to be on the news.”  (I didn’t quite use the word “fudge.”)

It wasn’t long before I was away from all the commotion.  I saw very few runners or hikers on the trails.  Understandably.  It was just too hot.  I wondered how on earth farmers were able to grow illegal crops in this mostly brown, exposed wilderness area.  How did they water the approximate 4,000 plants.  How were they going to harvest without being detected? 

I arrived at the bottom taking No-Name Ridge and No-Dogs a little overheated.  I decided to take El Moro Canyon back up to Bommer Ridge (the shorter choice), scratching my original plans to run past the canyon and straight up to Moro Ridge.  I’m not sure the canyon route was the best choice.  I felt like I was running in an oven.  On a ridge I would have at least experienced a breeze.  

No-Name Ridge:

No-Dogs Trail:

Making my way through the canyon & stopping in the first bit of shade:

Much needed shade (& this was about all of it):

With about a quarter mile left before reaching Bommer Ridge, I konked out.  Light headed, I needed to cool off my body temperature.  It appeared that I let heat exhaustion overcome me once again.  Dang it.  Sitting in the shade, I took in a nice breeze and it seemed my temperature cooled quickly.  After about ten minutes, I finally got to my feet and slowly ran the additional 1.5 miles to the truck. 

Recuperating, waiting or my temperature to drop:

Oh!  And I was on the news – a Spanish language station.  A running friend, Conrado, took a picture of his television as I ran across the screen, and sent it to me via facebook.

Change of Scenery

Tuesday, I got out the door at noon.  Noon.  And I ran 9.43 miles around town, down to the beaches, back up to the headlands and through town back home.  It was hard running at a quicker pace for more than nine miles.  I need to do this more often.  (Fat chance )

The Beautiful Modjeska

I shut off my early morning alarm ONCE AGAIN.  But all was no lost Sunday morning.  I threw caution into the wind and pulled my truck out of the driveway at 9:30 AM.  9:30 AM!  An hour later I was winding my way through a little town called Silverado, driving 25 miles per hour, onward to Maple Springs Road.  With the weather warming up, I feared I hadn’t packed enough fluids for an afternoon run and stopped by the only market in town for a Gatorade – just in case.  

At the trailhead, I continued on driving up a single lane road until the pavement ended.  Parking my truck beneath a tree in the woods, I headed up the dirt truck trail at approximately 10:40 AM.  The heat was sweltering, and quite frankly, I wondered how I was going to manage a mountain run.  With a cold Gatorade in hand and 72 fluid ounces on my back, I moved on as I always do – one foot in front of the other. 

I hoped that I could run up to Modjeksa Peak because I have this thing about summiting.  Love to summit.  If the weather grew too unbearable though, I gave myself an out, with a turnaround point at “Four Corners,” which is 4.25 miles up the dirt road called Maple Springs. 

Thank God for shade.  The first leg of my mountain run went well – I arrived to “Four Corners” having finished the Gatorade but without dipping into my hydration pack.  My leg “injury” did not cause a problem either.  I did experience a slight ache though, and took two ibuprofen since I decided to venture onward to the peak. 

I ran straight through “Four Corners,” where three off roaders parked.  And the gnats kicked in just as I turned onto The Main Divide.  With little or no shade and gnats flying at my face, the rocky terrain proved difficult.  But who am I kidding – this portion of The Main Divide is always difficult for me.  So, it was business as usual – one foot in front of the other.

At a little over 5.5 miles travelled, I turned the bend in The Main Divide for a view of two main peaks in The Santa Ana Mountains:  Modjeska and Santiago, the far ends of the saddle.  Wow.  I still daydream about it even a whole day later.  Setting my eyes on these peaks makes everything all better, the gnats, the heat, the rocks . . .  This is an emotional spot in the mountains for me – the scene of so many victories and agonies as well.  It’s what I see back home, the backdrop for most of my coastal runs.  

I turned off The Main Divide and trudged up the sort-of-single-track to Modjeska Peak.  No more cars or motorcycles.  I had this part of the mountain all to myself – except however for biting horseflies that took tiny chunks out of my arms and legs, oh and lest I forget, swarms of gnats hovering about my face, focusing on my mouth, nose, ears and eyes. 

Heading up to Modjeska:

The final ascent:

At last!

Polish actress, the beautiful Helena Modjeska, whom this peak was named after:

A mountain biker once told me about a short-cut coming off Modjeska Peak that takes you straight down to “Four Corners.”  I’ve looked for it, asked hikers and other bikers about the trail, to no avail.  That is until I ran The Harding Hustle last month. I  don’t recall whether it was during my first or second trip up to the peak that out of the corner of my eye I noticed a  “do-not-go-here” trail marking.  Do not go where? I thought.  There’s only one way to go.  And that’s when I saw it, a partially hidden, true-single-track disappearing down the side of the mountain. 

This Sunday, I sought out that trail on the way down from Modjeska.  The trail seemed so obvious now.  Still, I felt a little nervous.  Bike tracks relieved me some.  If a mountain bike could take the trail, then I could take it.  Hopefully.  A lot of short cuts are short because they take you down the face of a cliff or something ridiculous like that.  Determined to focus, I shut off my music.  But I kept the ear buds tucked into my ears else the growing number of gnats drill through to my brain.  I could hear them crashing up against the buds, desperate it seemed to hit gray matter. 

The trail was steep, so steep that in some points the ground merely slid beneath me as I attempted to run the terrain.  It’s been a long time since I’ve ventured onto new ground.  The views were immeasurable.  The trails were shady.  They were rocky.  And they were swarming with gnats.  Fortunately, my short cut didn’t take me down a cliff.   But because I ran an unbeaten path, I was extra careful not to fall.  My cautious gait was so slow, I wasn’t sure if this was going to be a “short cut” after all.  But soon, very soon, I caught “Four Corners” in my sight, and it seemed as if I had cut a mile and a half or so off my trip.

The “short-cut”:

Sure enough, this trail dumped me off right at “Four Corners,” on a portion of single track so steep, I sat and slid down it.  Oh ya!  Only 4.25 miles to go: