Trinity Lake and Granite Peak

I was awakened by the sun spilling into our tent. Normally, I'm annoyed by a five o'clock sunrise, but today's early wake up call was essential. I comfortably ate my breakfast in shorts and a tank top. Seventy-five degrees at sunrise meant it was going to get hot hot soon.

This weekend was an experiment. Matt and I know we can tolerate the cold well, but heat has always been a struggle, for me especially. Was a summertime adventure in triple digit temperatures possible? I wondered. Armed with my pitiful coastal acclimation that insists 65F is too hot, my hopes clung to the possibility that my recent trip to the high desert would provide some relief.

When planning this trip, we had originally planned on the Three Sisters section of the Pacific Crest Trail near Bend, Oregon. After an (not really?) unexpected sleepover at the San Francisco airport delayed our departure by almost two days, our plans were revised to something closer to home.

Clearly this wasn't my first SFO sleepover.

We agreed that a base camp near a lake or river would be the best bet. Hike and run at dawn and then soak ourselves the rest of the day, that was the plan. Matt chose our first adventure. "I want a summit!" he announced, and pointed to 8,100 ft. Granite Peak towering above the nearby trees. It was almost five thousand vertical feet from our campsite on the lake. Our car climbed 1,000 of those feet, we did the rest ourselves. We spent much of the climb comparing its steepness to the European Alps. Maybe this is how the Trinity Alps got their name. Based on the research we had done on this hike, we were expecting much worse than it actually was. Yes it was hard, but the guidebook we read reiterated its difficulty practically every other sentence. It's funny how a trip like our Tour du Mont Blanc last year can reset the "holy-crap-this-is-so-unrelentingly-steep" bar.

Climbing mostly through forests of incense cedar, sugar pine, and other western trees I've yet to identify, we were grateful for the morning shade. Meager teasing views of Trinity Lake and our campsite below were just enough to make my mouth water.

The dry forests occasionally gave way to lush streams choked with wildflowers. Matt patiently waited as I photographed each one. I adored the variety and rainbow of color each drainage provided.

About halfway up the trail, we broke above the dense forest and were finally offered the panoramic views we were hoping to encounter. We paused briefly for a snack and some photos and then continued on our dusty climb to the summit.

Remnants of a former lookout tower remained as well as a cache box where visitors could leave notes. Matt and I climbed further to the true summit and then hunkered down behind a rock for lunch. The Trinity Alps is divided into three parts: the Green Trinities, Red Trinities, and White Trinities. From this summit, I finally understood the distinction.

Matt with Mt. Shasta.

To the south, the Bully Fire's pyrocumulus cloud was beginning to take shape. By the end of the weekend, it had consumed 5,000 acres and destroyed a dozen homes. Luckily for us, the smoke remained aloft and we weren't tempted to retreat to the coast for cleaner air. 

By noon, we were back at our campsite, enjoying lunch and a soak in the lake. The silty water along the shoreline left my bikini with an orange tint and did little to provide relief from the heat and sunshine.

Due to the drought, our campground had no water supply. We speculated that the feeder pipes were hidden somewhere high above the lake's current water level. Matt and I headed into town to buy some more water. My skin baked horribly as we drove the fifteen miles to town with no air conditioning. The next car we buy has to have this feature, it is so miserable. The air conditioning of the grocery store provided some relief, but nothing like the truly frigid wonder of the walk-in beer cooler. Matt hunted down some water and deliciously juicy local peaches while I lingered in there attempting to turn myself into a human ice cube. Only the lure of a milkshake and french fries convinced me to go out. Cold and salty: that was the theme of my food choices for the weekend.

That night, we watched a spectacular sunset and moon rise through the slight haze of wildfire smoke, a brilliant moon reflection dancing in ripples across the lake.

Leaving Santa Fe

This post is about family. Family dynamics are always complicated, whether you live nearby or clear across the country from them. The interesting thing is how they keep changing. Growing up, my mom was the peacemaker, the one to make sure we always hugged and said "I love you" after a fight. Now when we're together, we seem to take turns being that calming force. No matter what happens, we're stuck with each other. We learn acceptance for the quirks we cannot change and love regardless. Larger family gatherings are the best to realize the power of genes on our personalities. If you think I'm goofy, know that it's all their fault.

The trip to Santa Fe was made on the sly. In March, my mom, grandma, and sister booked plane tickets to visit my brother. They tried to convince me to go, but Matt didn't have enough vacation time. A few weeks later, I decided to go solo....without telling them.

The evening of their arrival, my brother Chris left them home alone. He said since the visit was a special occasion, he had to go pick up a surprise. Of course, they insisted no special fuss be made. He said everything was already paid for so he went out to get it.

The skies opened up and a heavy rain fell as I waited for Chris at the airport. We drove back to his house and he sent me in the door first, my jacket thrown over my head to keep me dry. Nobody noticed it was me. "Hey guys", I said, while removing my coat. My mom did a double-take and called out, "Karen?" My sister ran up for a hug. Nobody had suspected a thing. For the first time in several years, I was together with my brother and sister at the same time.

We spent the week touring the Santa Fe area. Chris took us out to his work, Bandelier for a hike, and to the July 4th celebration on the Plaza. My favorite memories from the week were simple meals we prepared together. We all learned where that biting sarcasm comes from (Thanks Grandma!). She's the perfect mix of sweet and sass. Uninterrupted visits with her are rare, so it was nice we could hog her all to ourselves for the week.

As the week wore on, we took separate adventures in pairs or small groups as one or two of us sat behind, the introvert need for alone time deeply imbedded in each of us. I spent my recharge day running and eating Dairy Queen while they went to the casino.

Now you see where I get it from!

I don't know what I'd do without my wacky family.

An Afternoon at Bandelier

In the damp coastal environment I call home, nature is aggressive. Ferns, vines, and moss grow abundantly. Left alone, my back yard would become a mass of tangled thorns within just a few years. It is a constant cycle of growth and decay.

The New Mexico desert couldn't be more different. Sparse hardy plants grow, soaking up what little moisture can be found in the dusty soil. Seasonal flash floods sweep through the Frijoles Canyon and prompt a modest showing of small flowers.

Indian Blanket

Cholla cactus bloom

Golden Aster

As I followed the gentle incline up the canyon, time slipped away. Ancient petroglyphs and dwellings carved or eroded from the volcanic tuff appeared, dating back as far as the 1300s.

 Emily, Chris, and I climbed wooden ladders into some of these homes, tracing our fingers against the walls and imagining what life would be like living here. On this warm afternoon, we found these rocky dwellings cool and comfortable.

While Chris feigned nonchalance (he's the local after all), Emily kept her nose pressed firmly to her camera. My sister is just beginning to realize her own version of the family's adventurous traveling spirit and I love watching her fascination grow. Traveling with her fun, she gravitates more to the minutiae, pointing out things I might have otherwise overlooked.

Emily spotted this one.

In a country where everything feels relatively new, historic treasures like this are all the more precious. I love that we got to experience this as a family.

Sun Day in Santa Fe

The sun burned hot on my skin. Just half a mile into my morning run, I knew this run would be tough. Sitting 6,500 ft. closer to the sun didn't seem like much, but to my poor coastal-acclimated skin, it was the difference between pleasant and death march. Even though morning runs were cooler, they often felt too hot for me. I would eventually learn that afternoon runs, especially during monsoon season, would result in gorgeous clouds and a whole lot of cold wind as a front went through. Until I had that epiphany, I stuck to morning running.

Armed with salt tabs, snacks, and a full two liters of water in my pack, I was excited to see where the day would take me. My family had left on an adventure of their own, so I could take as much time as I wanted without holding them up.

Soon the sun became too much for me. I felt myself quickly overheating. My heart beat faster and my skin became warm. It didn't help that the first half of this run was uphill, to 7,000 ft. before turning around. I spent much of this outbound portion running between shady walking breaks. I passed a few runners out for their Sunday run, so at least I knew I wasn't alone in my misery. They looked far more acclimated than myself. I know I looked like a sweaty, pathetic mess. Altitude training isn't glamorous, who knew?

Delirious enough to see angels. Tell me you see it too.

Just beyond the halfway point in most runs, the genius ideas begin. This run was no exception.  Inside my pack was my ID, a credit card, and my brother's address. In case I passed out, I wanted to know how I'd get back to my brother's house. Instead of taxi fare, it would turn a horrible run around.....with a Blizzard. All week, I had passed a Dairy Queen at mile 3 but never stopped. Torture, I tell you.

Yay for the shady spot!

When I arrived to the air conditioned haven of the mall food court, I noticed everyone staring at me. They saw that sweaty mess too. I did the best cleanup I could in the bathroom and then got in line for my icy treat. Not surprisingly, I wasn't the first one in line. Three young men were waiting ahead of me. These guys know what's good.

With a little slice of heaven in my heat swollen little fingers, I stepped back out into the sunshine, a silly smile on my face. My day was officially made.

I continued my trip home, walking as I devoured every delicious spoonful. I tucked the empty cup and spoon into my pack and continued a slow jog home.

Blizzard eatin' pace.

My new BFFs, Tammy and Skittles helped me stretch.

Then, I took an icy shower and a nap. I'm pretty sure that all my ME days need to have a DQ run in them.

More Than One Way

We've all heard the saying, "there's more than one way to....(skin a cat, climb a mountain, etc.). Well I'm hoping there's more than one way to run a PR marathon. After a few more weeks' rest, I decided to train for and run the Santa Rosa Marathon on August 24. The course is pretty flat, a bunch of my club buddies are going, and it's local enough that it won't cost me a lot of money. We're even splitting a hotel room (everyone promised they don't snore).

I am about five weeks into training. Unlike the structured spring and fall patterns I have followed in the past, I hoped to keep summer flexible enough to enjoy camping and other trips, yet get in some key workouts. So far, I think I've blended things well to keep it feeling playful yet beneficial. Since the compressed training cycle isn't enough time to build much speed, I'm hoping to keep my fitness level consistent with this spring.

My mileage has held steady in the mid-50s for the past four weeks and I'm planning in increasing it further until the taper.  Instead of weekly recaps, I'll give you a brief overview:

Most of my speed training has come from the running club races. I didn't want to sacrifice my summer to the track, so I've been running a lot of trails and running faster when I am on the roads.

The first week of July, I visited family in Santa Fe, New Mexico. All my runs were between 6,500 and 7,000 ft. of elevation and about 80F. I was slow to warm up with each run. I gasped for breath throughout the first mile, then a sudden relief came and I was able to breathe normally. The biggest issue I seemed to have was with the temperature and dry air. Despite carrying water on all of my runs, even the short distance ones, I finished with a painfully dry mouth. By the end of the week, I returned home with about fifty high-altitude miles under my belt and a raw, dry spot on the roof of my mouth. All miles were between a 9:00-9:45/mi pace.

Shortly after returning home, Matt and I went on a camping trip in the Trinity Alps. Sitting at about 3,500 ft. and in triple digit temperatures, it was another difficult few days of training. Matt and I woke up at sunrise each morning and got in some mountain hikes and trail runs. Each outing was strenuous and worth every bit of effort. Then we spent the afternoons sipping lemonade and trying to stay cool.

Now that I'm back home and life has calmed down a little bit, I'll start writing about a few specific adventures. I just thought I'd provide an update. :)

Clam Beach Challenge 5K

As I sat on the trunk of my car, I thought about my race goals. So far, this summer of blazing fast 5Ks hasn't amounted to much. Recovery from the marathon took a little longer this time because I had two consecutive eighteen mile runs while marking the course for the trail race. Plans change and I can't say that I'm entirely disappointed in that. My heart just isn't in shorter distance racing.

This race is meant to be a time trial. Runners times are compared to the age graded elite charts and different levels are awarded different colors. Of course, these charts are built off of a paved and flat course, and the Clam Beach Challenge has one 150 ft. steep climb and a few little rollers and is mostly loose gravel. After my late start, the only goals I held for this race were to run a course PR and start on time. Spoiler alert: I succeeded at both.


That's me in the red shirt. A+ Karen.

Upon verbal command, the pack took off quickly. On the narrow path, I was surprised that I didn't have to weave. Perhaps in the first time in my 5K racing career, I lined up in the right spot! Awesome!

Mile 1: 7:02

After a moderately flat first mile, I climbed up the steep gravel incline through the diminishing fog at the ocean. Despite the brutality of this course, it's absolutely breathtaking. My endorphins mixed with breathlessness as I gazed across the coastal bluff to the shoreline spreading out to the horizon. It was perfect. I've never felt such a sense of peace in a 5K. I'm supposed to be thinking only about gasping for breath, right? The only thing I could think about as I finally crested the hill was: don't walk. We don't walk in 5Ks. Slow as much as you want, but your ass is not walking.

Runners ahead of me soon began to make their return trip and my focus shifted back to racing. Once I finally made the turn-around myself, I was surprised by how far back the runners I passed on the uphill were.  I navigated that steep downhill, trying to keep my legs from slipping out in front of me. It's hard to race downhill on something this steep.

Mile 2: 7:58

Here's where I found myself in a gap with no runners within about twenty seconds of me. All my usual racing buddies hadn't shown up. Through the lifting fog, I could see a couple of runners up ahead of me, one of which I had passed near the end at Dow's Prairie. He was still a fair distance ahead, but I willed myself to at least try to close the gap.

Mile 3: 7:01

The straight stretch in the final mile had a few little curves. Weaving through the vegetation on each curve, I found myself hoping for a view of the finish line around at least half a dozen little bends in the trail. When it finally appeared, I felt my form tighten into my best finish line sprint.  I crossed the line a moment later with nothing left.

Mile 3.1: 0:40 (6:51/mi)

22:43
7:19/mi.
4th female, 1st in my age group.

 I'm happy with the result, it was a solid effort and right where I wanted to be, ahead of my previous course PR by 22 seconds. Most people run about 45-60 sec. slower on this course than their flat road 5K, so I was right on with that (PR is 21:42).

My next race is a flat 5K/10K. Whichever distance I choose, I’ll be going for a PR. :) My 10K PR is suuuuuper soft (I’ve run half marathons and 10 milers at a faster pace), I’ll decide when it gets closer.

All photos: Y. Kim or A. Zechman, SRRC photo credit.

Final Day of Lassen

Thursday morning's hike out to the car began early for us. A soft morning light washed over the sandy shores of Snag Lake. Nearby Cinder Cone and the lava beds glowed an unusual shade of orange. It is not often I'm up at dawn on a trip like this, but after a couple days of exposure to far more sunshine than I'm accustomed, I had an early bedtime the night before.

Breakfast for everybody!

I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast next to a rock on the lake's shore. Canadian geese swam calmly across the lake. With coffee in hand, I examined the map. I love maps. From the map, I realized there was a mountain nearby that bore a family name, I had to get a picture of it. Since much of our return was to be on the same trail as a few days ago, I enjoyed having a goal to focus on.  After a few miles of tracing the Snag Lake shoreline, a great volcano came into view. There she was! We found it!

Mt Hoffman

The next few miles were spent climbing over a ridge.  The lush valley floor gradually disappeared and we were left climbing once again, through dry and dusty trail. The slope faced south just enough to have fully bloomed wildflowers. Much of our trip thus far held hints of these flowers, but here they were at their most beautiful. The harsh midday sun made them difficult to photograph, but they were both varieties I had never seen before.

Snow plant

Cycladinia

By noon, we had crossed the large ridge and the sun was at its warmest. As we approached Rainbow Lake, the place we spent our first night, we decided that a swim and lunch was in order. We weren't the only ones enjoying a refreshing dip in the lake. I still find myself surprised when the lake isn't as cold as the kettle lakes I used to swim in on trips in Alaska. These guys aren't glacier fed and by comparison feel like bathtub water. With full bellies and comfortable spots on the beach, we debated an afternoon sieste but decided against it.  The siren song of Dairy Queen and a shower were too strong.

Mt. Lassen kept us company through the final mile to the car. We'll be back to climb you later this summer. Since our car is too basic to have A/C, we decided to spend the night in Redding and finish our drive back to the coast in the early morning hours. This meant a shower, dinner out, and best of all: DAIRY QUEEN. Matt sure knows how to spoil this girl!

We clean up pretty nicely, don't we?

Happy seven years, Sweetheart!