Site Title

Snurfin’ USA

“Some one was drawing water and my teacher placed my hand under the spout. As the cool stream gushed over one hand she spelled into the other the word water, first slowly, then rapidly. I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the motions of her fingers. Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten–a thrill of returning thought; and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that “w-a-t-e-r” meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free!” Helen Keller made the connection between Anne Sullivan’s spellings into her hand and the word itself in a mere month, but we are well aware that the young learn more easily than the old.

Several years ago, I bought a set of silver bells that hang from a black ribbon, designed to provide a dog the freedom to inform her person, with the slap of a paw, when she wants to go outdoors. For about a month I rang the bell religiously every time I let my six-year-old terrier out. She’d dash through the door without showing a bit of interest in the bell. After about a month, I gave up. Then last year, I tried to teach a six-month-old puppy who seemed smart. When it took her nearly 100 days to make the connection, I realized that I’d been impatient with my old dog. This winter, I decided to learn something new: snowboarding. The sport has been around in some form or another for hundreds of years, but its popularity didn’t start to take off until the sixties. According to the International Skiing History Association, a man by the name of Sherman Poppen first “dented the marketplace,” for the item that would become the modern-day snowboard. “Poppen created the Snurfer [=snow-surfer] on Christmas morning in 1965 by cross-bracing two skis together…Launched in September 1966, the Snurfer was a hit as more than 750,000 were sold nationwide during the 1960s and 1970s. More than any other invention, the Snurfer inspired a generation of kids to surf the snow.”Two teenage boys and I arrived at the Mt Baker Ski Area on December 22, 2017, at 8:00 am, early enough to land a parking spot just outside the entrance to the Heather Meadows Base Area, where lessons are available on weekends and holidays. We completed the rental forms, signed the waivers, and I paid for a package deal (snowboard/helmet rental/Chair 2 lift ticket/group lesson), which set me back about sixty bucks per person, about the same price as an all-day adult lift ticket. We put on our boots and helmets and headed outside carrying our snowboards (about a foot wide and 88% of a person’s height) with the awkwardness of inexperience. The snow was soft and powdery and the skies were cold and nearly clear with temperatures in the mid-30s. We spent the next hour at the short, steep hill adjacent the lodge and learned that for a beginner: rising from a seated position is difficult, as is fastening your bindings while standing, as is remaining upright for more than a few seconds. What’s easy? Flying down the hill at breakneck speed with the knowledge that you are likely to cartwheel out of control before you smack into the snow in an uncomfortable heap, sometimes hitting your helmeted head. At 9:30, my teenage son and I joined three other first-timers at the assigned (beginner) sign. A small, wiry guy I’ll call Jerry (because that was his name) inquired as to our footedness (Goofy or Regular), explained a few moves (like engaging the heel edge and the toe edge), demonstrated the moves, helped each of us to an upright position, and watched us all wipe out spectacularly…over and over again.After countless crashes on what could barely be called a slope, we braved the “rope” tow (not actually made of rope) to the top of the bunny slope a few times and, finally, traversed our way down the hill to Chair 2 where Jerry encouraged us to give it a try on our own. For me, it was a fall-filled trip from the top of the lift (fall #1) to the foot of a short, steep hill (fall #s 2,3,4) to the bottom of the relatively short run (falls #5 and 6), after which I was ready to go home. During my first 2.5-hour snowboarding adventure, I fell all told more times than I had during my previous 53 years. The most useful thing Jerry the instructor taught me that day: the area on which we attempted to snowboard is not located on its namesake mountain.A week later, we returned. I snowboarded while my son skied. I joined two other women in the beginner snowboard group outside the White Salmon Base Area where weekday lessons are given. Spencer, an instructor of instructors, led us to the flattest of slopes near Chair 7 and taught us two ways to rise from a seated position, toe and heel edge turns, the snowboard version of snowplowing (controlled, slow-going on either the toe or heel edge), and how to link turns. Before we’d mastered these skills, we hiked to the top of the bunny hill and attempted the maneuvers in scarier territory. I only wiped out about half as much as I had on my previous visit, which was an improvement, but still involved a lot of falls. The most useful thing Spencer the instructor of instructors taught me that day is: learning from an excellent instructor is much better than learning from one who is just okay. I’d heard that snowboarders tend to get it on or about their third try, so I made one last trip to Mt Baker by myself. On a crowded pre-President’s Day Friday, I made my way to the bunny slope near Chair 7 where I spent about an hour practicing what I’d learned previously. It was so full of students that most of my falls were self-initiated in order to avoid collisions with other beginners (no, really). Watching others wipeout more than I did and falling less often felt great. Next winter, I’ll be back. I know I’m not out of the woods yet, but I’m on my way: living proof that with a little patience and perseverance, old dogs can learn new tricks.

Cutting the Pool Baby in Half

The water surface was as smooth as glass during its last week of limited operation in mid-February, when it was open to accommodate the OHHS Boys Swim Team and the North Whidbey Aquatic Club. All appeared calm from above, but underneath swirled the stormy seas of controversy that have plagued the Vanderzicht pool for several years. With the failure of the NWPRD Levy, Executive Director Steve “Caz” McCaslin and one of the remaining pool employees wear more hats than before, including custodian, cashier, and water quality manager in addition to those of their regular duties.

In the budget that Caz prepared and presented to the Board (based primarily on cash on hand revenue), he suggested the elimination of the ED job first since it was the highest cost to the District, which means he will be out of a job in the next month or two. While trying to grow the team and subsequent dues to cover the funding of NWAC coach Caz noted, “Most programs at the pool lose money and we were working to fix or minimize that loss.” Caz believes that Richard Fort’s October 24, 2017 Letter to the Editor, in which the then-Commissioner discussed the disparity in fees lane use fees for OHHS versus NWAC swimmers and that, “…because of past spending from our reserve account, we may still need to come back to the taxpayers in a couple of years for a pool repair bond” was likely one of the factors that negatively influenced some ballot-in-hand voters.

Six years prior, on October 25, 2011, the WNT printed the first of several Letters submitted by Mr. Fort critical of funding for Master’s and NWAC, “two swim clubs which have only 100 or so members get to use…a large portion of the pool time and are funded in the budget at near $100,000 (about $1,000 per member)…if the NWPRD levy fails the pool will not close permanently, the users of the pool will find a fairer way to fund it.” This prophetic letter was just a nick in what would become cuts of controversy deep enough to sink the Levy and suspend operations at the Vanderzicht pool.

I learned three months ago that the NWPRD Levy had failed about the same time that circle swimming signs appeared at the Fidalgo Pool where I have swum since we moved from Oak Harbor to Anacortes. I wanted to know more, so I read everything I could find everywhere I could find it. And when I couldn’t find anything at www.oakharborpool.com (because it had recently, inexplicably disappeared and is now Under Construction), Caz offered to meet with me.

If you haven’t been paying attention, here’s what you’ve missed:

August 16, 2011 NWPRD Levy fails (56.70%).

October 25, 2011 WNT prints Fort’s first Letter, Reform Pool, then save it.

November 8, 2011 NWPRD Levy passes (63.17%).

December 2011 Craig Carlson resigns after eight years as NWPRD Executive Director (ED), NWAC Coach Neil Romney serves as Interim Director (ID).

June 11, 2012 NWPRD hires Bill Walker as ED.

June 4, 2012/October 2012 $1.5M/$2.1 M settlements in claims of 1990s sexual abuse by former NWAC Coach Andy King are reported.

November 2012 ED Bill Walker fires NWAC Coach of 10 years Neil Romney weeks after firing the swim club treasurer Vikki Robinson for not providing him access to NWAC financial records, prompts fraud investigation.

March 2013 NWPRD hires NWAC Coach Bill Patterson.
October 2013 WNT reports on the NWAC financials findings in the Fraud Report (1/1/11 through 12/31/12. At the time of the firings, a former NWAC treasurer and a fellow NWAC parent were about $11,000 in arrears in fees. Once it was reported, both paid the outstanding balances.

November 2013 ED Bill Walker resigns, “The NWPRD Board of Commissioners, tasked with setting policy for the Oak Harbor Pool and its programs, is made up of…four…NWAC team parents and one North Whidbey Masters swimmer…[so] the commission’s impartiality becomes increasingly suspect…The NWAC/Masters program…comes in at a deficit of over $40,000 per year, which is covered by you, the taxpayers.”

March 2014 NWPRD settles wrongful termination lawsuits, ‘Romney and Robinson will both receive “small cash settlements” of less than $20,000 each, McDougall said. They originally asked for damages in excess of $100,000 and to be re-instated. Letters of resignation will also be placed in their employee files at the district under the settlement.’

May 2014 NWPRD hires Gino Wolfe as ED.

August 2014 NWPRD terminates NWAC Coach Bill Patterson.

December 2014/January 2015 NWRPD hires Dick Taylor as NWAC Coach. Gino Wolfe resigns as ED. Erika Miller serves as ID.

August 5, 2015 WNT In Our Opinion, Now is the time to plan for pool’s future, “the parks district has less than $100,000 in its reserve fund.”

September 16 , 2015 WNT publishes Keeping Oak Harbor swim club afloat comes at a cost, “Ideally, each aquatics program should pull its own weight in terms of funding, according to interim aquatics director Erika Miller,” but, “Miller said that the majority of swim teams she’s worked with were partially subsidized, and noted that all district programs receive some taxpayer funding.”

November 2015 Supporters of NWAC form Blue Heron Booster Club (BHBC).

August 31, 2016 Annual Report for BHBC’s first fiscal year shows: $10,578 Revenue, $5,878 Expense, 89% to Program Services.

June 2017 NWPRD cuts NWAC funding.

July 11, 2017 WNT prints Fort’s Letter Swim club proposals have been nothing but accounting maneuvers, “The [NWAC] deficit funded from the M&O levy continues to be $30,000 to $40,000 per year.”

August 1, 2017 NWPRD Levy fails (48.25%).

October 24, 2017 WNT prints Richard Fort Letter Aquatic club is getting a sweetheart deal at pool.

November 2017 NWPRD Levy fails (58.75%). NWPRD suspends pool activities.

January/February 2018 North Whidbey Community Pool & Recreation Foundation is formed and begins fundraising. Pool aquatic operations suspended indefinitely.

During the past few weeks, I’ve poured through WNT articles and Letters, the 2011-2012 fraud report, Island County court records and Washington State Charities programs documents, spoken to Executive Director Steve McCaslin and reached out to one former (no response) and one current Commissioner (Wendy Shingleton) for information and answers. Caz noted that he and the NWAC Coach recommended to the Board at the June 23, 2016 Meeting that NWAC be given three years to build the team to a level that could be self-sustaining. No official action was taken, but he wishes they’d have been given that chance.

Commissioner Wendy Shingleton’s answer to the question, What are our chances of operating without a taxpayer subsidy? “I hope we don’t have to find that out, but…I believe there is a mandate to change the way the district operates for sustainability. In recent years, we have depended on 60% of revenue being levy money. We must find other revenue streams and perhaps even an improved operating model.”

With the formation of the North Whidbey Community Pool & Recreation Foundation, supporters of the Vanderzicht pool are on the right track to improve feelings about and funding for an important resource and the programs it serves for the North Whidbey community. Until it reopens, I know that Anacortians like me are happy to share the Fidalgo Pool with our neighbors to the south.

fidalgo circle swim.jpg

It’s Time To End High School Exit Testing in Washington State

It’s time to end exit testing requirements for Washington state high school students. Setting the bar high to ensure high school graduates achieve an adequate level of understanding in English, Math, and Biology is important. The Every Student Succeeds Act requires testing of high school students in these subjects, but requiring students to meet a cut score on exams for graduation only makes sense if doing so provides an academic or employment benefit to the students and/or society. It doesn’t.

In the 2008 article, Exit exams harm the students who fail them and do not benefit the students who pass them. Now what?, authors Warren and Grodsky reviewed 30 years’ worth of data from Florida and California and concluded, that “graduation rates decline by about two percentage points” in states with “higher competency” exit exams. They “found no evidence for any effects of exit exams (minimum competency or higher competency) on reading or math achievement” at selected achievement distribution cut points. Further, they note that “Young high school graduates who obtained their diplomas in ‘exit exam states’ fared no better in in the labor market than their peers who obtained their diplomas in other states.”

Here’s what happens according to Warren and Grodsky, “States begin by setting moderate to high standards and then spend hundreds of thousands of dollars designing exit exams that purport to hold students to these standards. In short order, however, high failure rates and much-publicized legal challenges built on inequities in states’ education systems test the political will of policymakers to hold students to these standards. In the end, politics wins out over principle and the exit exam, the passing threshold, or both are altered to increase the share of students that passes the exam.” This is exactly what’s transpiring in Washington state.Washington State law began requiring exit testing for high school students in 2008. In 2010, SB 6696 authorized the Superintendent of Public Instruction to adopt Common Core State Standards, and it became law. Five years later, students began testing against those standards by taking the Smarter Balanced Assessment (SBA) exams. English Language Arts/Literacy (ELA) and Math replaced the former End of Course (EOC) exams in those subjects. But the new, more rigorous standards came at a price: lower proficiency rates. In 2015 (the first year the SBA tests were administered), of the students who took the exam, only 51.6% met proficiency levels in ELA and 29.0% in Math. The threshold for graduation initially set at a level below “proficient” expected for 11th-grade material has since been lowered to a level deemed below “proficient” for 10th-grade material.Last June, HB 2224 became law, delaying the Biology EOC exam, even before it began. This was a compromise for those who preferred HB 1046, which delinks ESSA-mandated high school testing from graduation. The new Superintendent of Public Instruction (SPI), Chris Reykdal, supports delinking and discontinuing use of standardized assessments as a filter on who can and cannot graduate. Randy Dorn (SPI 2009-2017), started out in support of exit testing, but had changed his mind by 2014. Last spring, the State Board of Education (SBE) testified against HB 1046. The SBE revealed its official turnaround policy on delinking assessments from graduation requirements (with reservations) at a meeting earlier this month. HB 1046, with the delink-friendly Democrats’ return to the state government trifecta status it held when Common Core was adopted, was reintroduced in the House this month, and has the best chance of now becoming law, which would save taxpayers about 9 million dollars a year.

Several members of the Oak Harbor Public Schools (OHPS) staff testified in favor of HB 1046 at a Senate Early Learning & K-12 Education Committee meeting March 20, 2017 (see 1:20:15), including Dr. Lance Gibbon, OHPS Superintendent and Anna Chargualaf, Counselor for the Class of 2018, who shared the story of OHHS junior Naomi’s experience of trying to meet the ELA requirement. At that time, she had a 3.0 cumulative GPA and was earning an A in Human Body: an Internship at SVC through the Running Start program because she hoped to become a nurse. She was involved in track and swim team and worked as a lifeguard. She had failed the ELA twice and planned to take it again as well as the ACT (a Graduation Alternative). Because she hadn’t yet met the ELA requirement for graduation, she had to enroll in the Collection of Evidence class in the fall of her senior year. According to Dr. Gibbon (January 2018 via email), Naomi took the ACT twice (in April and June of 2017) but missed the required ELA cutoff by one point both times. She finally met the ELA standard by achieving the required score on the Reading/Writing section of the SAT in October of 2017. She was accepted into WSU and CWU.

Washington State students are the only ones in the country forced to meet Common Core requirements on Smarter Balanced Assessments for graduation and one of only thirteen that link federally-mandated test performance to high school graduation. State leaders’ actions show the arbitrary nature of these requirements. Meeting these requirements does not lead to improved academic and/or employment outcomes for graduates. It’s time to end exit testing requirements for high school students in Washington state.

Peter, Peter–Writer, Seeker

I opened my front door to the quietest of knocks. Our six-year-old son waited with a stranger. My heart raced at the realization of what could have happened while he stood, wondered where I was, and walked the half mile from the bus stop to our house by himself. It was a Monday. And I’d forgotten that students were released one hour earlier than usual. The kindness of eleven-year-old Emily Hunt–who walked Garrett to the door, and her mother Laurie–who accompanied the pair by car, averted infinite scary scenarios that swirled around inside my head on that day and many more into the future. This was but one of a number of interactions between our family and the Hunts, who’d moved to the community long before we arrived. Within the year, Peter had asked me to join the board of our community association. Two years later, Hunt chose to Lean In and become a member of the Oak Harbor School Board, much of the time as its president (he continues his service today). And before he gave up his position as a member of the Dugualla Community, Inc. Board, much of it as president, he, along with Roger Pierce, was instrumental in negotiating a conservation easement with Whidbey Camano Land Trust to prevent the development of about 30 acres of wetland and 128 feet of shoreline in an estuary highly coveted as habitat for smolt. The year we moved close enough to Peter and Laurie Hunt for our kids to share a bus stop, 2005, was the same one he was diagnosed with Young-onset Parkinson’s disease at age 43.

“Parkinson’s disease (PD) affects 1–2 per 1000 of the population at any time. PD prevalence is increasing with age and PD affects 1% of the population above 60 years…PD is regarded as a movement disorder with three cardinal signs: tremor, rigidity and bradykinesia,” and “Young-onset Parkinson’s disease (YOPD) occurs in people younger than 50 years of age…YOPD affects about two to 10 percent of the one million people with PD in the United States.” By my averaging math, YOPD affects about 6% of 1.5/1000 or 1 in 10,000…sigh.

My alter ego (which is not very alter, since I use my real name) is as an Amazon reviewer. Here’s what I had to say about The Lost Intruder:

Full disclosure: I know Peter Hunt. My friends and I consider myself a book snob, and I don’t let acquaintanceship get in the way of that. I enjoyed Hunt’s first two books, Angles of Attack, and Setting the Hook: A Diver’s Return to the Andrea Doria, but I loved The Lost Intruder. The story is an awesome combination of: the author’s philosophical ideas; his experiences with early-onset Parkinson’s Disease including undergoing deep brain stimulation surgery; details of “the search for a missing Navy jet;” and events leading up to, during, and shortly after the plane ends up in the Salish Sea, including my favorite action-pack chapter (Seven) in which Hunt provides a blow by blow account of the A-6’s final flight based on interviews, standard operating procedures, incident reports, and his own extensive knowledge of the aircraft. Peter shares more than his acquaintances might expect about the neurological disorder that has afflicted him for the past twelve years (p xiii), “[Parkinson’s disease] is the human equivalent of a run-on sentence, following a meandering and listless course across unknown terrain, always searching for continuity and focus.” After a typical night of medication/medical-condition-induced insomnia, he writes (p 78); “Borrowing from a pilot’s phrase relating to cabin depressurization and hypoxia, a condition of insufficient oxygen that can lead to lightheadedness, passing out, and even death, I’d come to think of these precious morning hours as my ‘time of useful consciousness’…When not actively searching for the 510, a surrogate activity would be found or invented to bridge the gap. The strategy was simple: aggressively accumulate small victories during the day to bolster morale during each long darkness;’” and acquaintances’ inability to understand his condition; (p 82) “The physical changes to my body were simply beyond the ken of most people. And why wouldn’t they be? What life experience was necessary to instill an individual with the proper balance of empathy, intuition, and knowledge to allow them to take a good look around, to stand in my shoes? I could not come up with an answer, so how could I possibly expect anyone else to be genuinely thoughtful about my circumstances.”

His honesty is refreshing. Who wouldn’t feel like this when faced with the risk of revealing details of an important secret, (p 57) “The lost Intruder project took a significant step forward on the morning of May 3^rd as five men I barely knew showed up at the Deception Pass Marina to assist in a day of sonar scanning. Lacking self-confidence for the first time in my life, I struggled with a sense of vulnerability, a disease induced free-floating anxiety that others might try to take advantage of the situation in some inexplicable way”? Beyond the behavioral and philosophical is the search, which began in January 2014 and ended, well…that would be telling.

In summary, in his third book, Hunt does his best work ever at building suspense and sharing clues in a way that will rivet readers. I enjoy the unraveling of a mystery as much as anyone else, but even more, I like to know what’s going on inside a person’s head. Best of the book, stuff like this (Pp 95-97) “It was not that long ago when “things” had been important to me…It had been a hollow existence, devoid of true compassion or circumspection. But, oddly, I felt no resentment or sadness; no sorrow or regret over wasted priorities and time. This reflection’s only negative emotion stemmed from a mild frustration at my inability to convince others that I was now, for perhaps the first time in my life, genuinely happy…[I will let you read the middle section for yourself] First…Second…Third…And finally, grow to accept that you know nothing; in fact, revel in it. Be happy.” As the book jacket says, “The Lost Intruder soars in a triumph of the human spirit–see what it means to be alive.”

Don’t miss your opportunity to meet the author and learn more about The Lost Intruder at the Anacortes Public Library at 7:00 pm on Wednesday, January 10.

Lab Girl, The Lorax, The Hidden Life of Trees, and Me

Deception Pass Leaves 11-17-2017 11-16-12 AM — Foot’s eye view of former photosynthesizers at Hoypus Point

I used to think of trees as majestic, oxygen-producing shade-providers. Not anymore. Reading Peter Wohlleben’s The Hidden Life of Trees and Hope Jahren’s Lab Girl transformed my view about these slow-growing humanoids. Now when I make my daily visit to the woods, it’s with a mindset of concern of a level that only freeway rubberneckers can understand. I stop and gawk at the carnage of the forest: damaged bark, crooked trunks, fallen trees. The old me, in trucks piled high with limbless logs, would have seen future construction, the new me: hearses transporting dismembered corpses. I once found windstorms worrisome because of the danger they posed to houses and humans. I still do, but I worry about the well-being of the trees too. Wohlleben’s compelled me to pity the solitary orphan tree species trying to survive amidst others that are all related and those that line city streets, cramp-rooted and lonely.

: Creatures of the forests of Deception Pass State Park and the ACFL

hemlock before 9-10-2017 4-46-16 PM — Doug Fir’s involuntary tree slaughter of a Hemlock (in progress)

hemlock after 10-3-2017 9-48-00 AM — The aftermath: the two trees begin again as nurse logs

Wohlleben makes a good case for what he believes with a combination of observations and personal experiences acquired during a twenty-plus year career as a forester. He backs the content up with results of scientific studies. Trees, he proclaims, “communicate by means of olfactory, visual and electrical signals,” “have a sense of taste,” the “ability to see,” and “a sense of time.” They “shade their offspring” so they don’t grow too fast, “are capable of friendship and go to far as to feed each other,” “trees experience pain and have memories and tree parents live together with their children.” And when a slow-growing humanoid’s life ends, “the dead trunk is as indispensable for the cycle of life in the forest as the live tree.” In fact, “a fifth of all animal and plant species–that’s about six thousand of the species we know about–depend on dead wood.” Jahren, a geobiologist, shares more about the study of plants and seeds, “When you are in the forest, for every tree that you see, there are at least a hundred more trees waiting in the soil, alive and fervently wishing to be.” “In the right place, under the right conditions, you can finally stretch out into what you’re supposed to be.”

street kids 12-6-2017 11-40-50 AM — Orphans

What I learned from Wohlleben and Jahren even changed my view of one of my formerly favorite books: Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree. The story of a selfless apple tree that provides entertainment, shelter, fruit, its branches and ultimately, its life to a Boy used to bring a tear to my eye. The new me is embarrassed by my misplaced sympathies of the past. The Tree deserves The Darwin Award for anti-evolutionary behavior. And the Boy’s actions towards the Tree are no better than that of the Once-ler. Had the Boy cared one whit about it, he’d have asked his parents to plant several more of a similar variety instead of carving initials into its bark, removing its branches, cutting it down and then resting atop what was left of his victim’s lower extremities.Dr. Suess’s The Lorax contains the better message. The Once-ler, a man who, back in the day, pooh-poohed The Lorax’s admonitions about the damage he was doing to the Truffula forest and its creatures, confesses his complicity to a boy who comes calling. The last page has the Once-ler handing over the one remaining Truffula seed to the boy. But even if it defies its slim chances of survival, “The odds [of rooting] are more than a million to one against success,” this solitary tree will suffer without the chance to diversify its genes. An excerpt from Lab Girl, in which the author and her quirky lab partner Bill “brainstorm” a version of Silverstein’s book with “the most gleefully inappropriate material for such a thing,” highlights some of the witty, silly, over-the-top banter in which the two engage, “The Getting Tree…was about an arboreal parent figure that slowly cannibalizes its offspring because of its progressive and oblivious greed.” It ends with a raccoon chewing on the Boy’s arm which is no less unrealistic than The Giving Tree and many times more entertaining.

: Look, Ma. I made it! (a Sweetgum sapling grows beneath its mother)

Some might find Wohlleben’s fringier contentions about trees hard to believe, but one thing is obvious to anyone who’s hung out with them: spending time in a forest is good for humans’ health, “The air truly is considerably cleaner under the trees, because the trees act as huge air filters,””…not only do trees filter materials out of the air, they also pump substances into it [including phytoncides].” “It’s possible that phytoncides have a beneficial effect on our immune systems as well as the trees’ health.” “Korean scientists have been tracking older women as they walk through forests and urban areas.” They found, “When the women were walking in the forest, their blood pressure, their lung capacity, and the elasticity of their arteries improved,” Wohlleben ends his book with a suggestion, “…when you take your next walk in the forest, give free rein to your imagination–in many cases, what you imagine is not so far removed from reality, after all!!”

Jahren adds soap-boxing and recommends, “If you own any private land at all, plant one tree on it this year,” Those of us in the Pacific Northwest have cheap, convenient access to forests packed with many species of slow-growing humanoids. My advice: Don’t waste money on electronics and other inside-use devices this holiday season. The best gift you can give your loved one is free. Take them to the forest. Spend time with the trees.

Works Cited
Jahren, Hope. Lab Girl. New York: Vintage Books, 2016. pp. 30, 52, 135, 281.
Silverstein, Shel. The Giving Tree. New York: Harper and Row, 1964.
Suess, Dr. The Lorax. New York: Random House Children’s Books, 1971.
Wohlleben, Peter. The Hidden Life of Trees. Munich: Ludwig Verlag, 2015. pp. xiv, 9, 12, 15, 133, 134, 147, 148, 221-223, 245.

Beach Combing at Bowman Bay

Making my way over and between barnacled, blunt-edged rocks and boulders along the north shore of Bowman Bay, quiet clickings increase in proportion to my pace. Shore crabs in a dozen different colors drop from the rocks on which they rest as I pass by, then scurry to safety. It’s one of several super-low-tide days in late July that expose many sea creature species, some common, like sea stars and anemones, some less so, like sea squirts and encrusting sponges. In my quest to prove that a two-inch long blob clamped tightly to a rock is a sea squirt, I return three times to the same damp, cramped foot wide space between boulders for photographs.

Digital photos in camera, I plead my case to Dr. David Cowles at Rosario Laboratories, a researcher and professor who hosts the Invertebrates of the Salish Sea site and has answered my marine biology creature questions in the past. His reply to the message and photos I email him, “We have a very odd species of sea cucumber here, Psolus chitonoides, that is just that color and size. It holds on to rocks with 3 rows of tube feet on a flat ‘sole’ on the bottom, while the dome-shaped top is covered with burnt-orange or rust-colored plates. It has two openings like a sea squirt-one for its mouth and one for its anus. It doesn’t usually live as shallow as the intertidal zone, but can be found at a minus tide. When it is feeding under water it has a beautiful circle of reddish, branching tentacles around its mouth.” As much as I hoped he was wrong, photos and other evidence force me to concede defeat.

My beachcombing adventures at Bowman Bay weren’t without danger. The first time I ventured out wearing stiff-soled shoes, which led to several bloody barnacle scrapes on my arms that left scars. During my second trip, I lost track of time and the incoming tide. Heading east towards the sandy beach and parking lot at the park, I didn’t realize until I rounded the last big bend before the shore how high the tide had climbed. I was forced to walk through a short section of nearly knee-deep water atop the already slimy, seaweed-covered rocks.

While scrambling across rocks and boulders, I spent a lot of time photographing, and little trying to figure out what I was seeing. So I didn’t realize until I went through the digital downloads that I’d stumbled upon what should have been obvious: a pink sea squirt (Cnemidocarpa finmarkiensis) commonly known as a Broadbase tunicate with conspicuous x-marks-the-spot siphons, possibly several of the colonizing kind, and maybe even an invasive type (Didenmum vexillum) in addition to encrusting sponges in different colors like red, yellow and gray.

The most plentiful species of the day award belonged to the scientific classification Brachyura, the true crab. I consulted Gregory C. Jensen’s book Pacific Coast Crabs and Shrimps to distinguish between species. Based on the variety of colors, I thought I’d seen about ten different types of shore crabs, but according to the author, there are only three (p 13), “Shore crabs typically have squarish carapace and fairly large eyes, and are considerably faster and more agile out of water than most other crabs. All three of the common Pacific coast species live fairly high in the intertidal zone and can be found in a surprisingly wide range of habitats and substrates.” Their diet consists of “smaller animals” as well as “diatoms,” and “algae” that they scrape off the surface of rocks.

In addition to shore crabs, I observed and photographed three other species: Scyra acutifrons (Sharpnose crab), Pugettia producta (Northern kelp crab) and Pagurus granosimanus (Grainyhand hermit). The Sharpnose crab appeared Invertebrates of the Salish Sea information describes, “This crab often sits with the anterior end pointed down” and “Seems to be often found around sea anemones.”

With the four crab species I’d seen previously at Cornet Bay: Cancer gracilis (Graceful crab), Cancer magister (Dungeness), unknown, and Cancer productus (Red rock), my observed Deception Pass State Park crab species rose to nine.

Beachcombing at Bowman Bay is possible only during extreme low tides (-1.5 feet or less) that occur during daytime hours on limited days from May through August, which limits your opportunity to about 30 days each year. And traipsing half a mile from the parking lot to the point between Bowman Bay and Sharpe Cove across wet, super slippery, barnacled rocks isn’t for the faint of heart. My advice: wear a pair of old minimalist or swim shoes that have about an eighth-inch thick sole. To reduce the chance of scrapes, wear long sleeves. Bring a friend. And if you have kids under ten, skip the activity altogether. You will find plenty of shore crabs along the westernmost part of the beach without having to brave your way across the rocks. Lastly, do what crab expert Dr. Jensen recommends (p 2), “When looking under rocks, always turn them back to their original position while taking care not to crush the animals underneath. A good rule of thumb is not to flip over rocks that are too heavy for you to replace gently under control. With proper care, our beaches can continue to offer the thrill of discovery for generations to come.”

Got What It Takes To Loop the Lakes?

Running along the dry, rocky trail strewn with pine needles in the Anacortes Forest Lands, I never expected to see a murder in progress. The perpetrator, Thamnophis sirtalis, lay dead across the trail, its prey having progressed nearly halfway along its digestive tract before it came to an…ahem…dead stop. I grabbed the nearest stick and carefully prodded the snake’s tail to confirm. No movement. So I took a couple of photos and moved on. If encountering a scary snake along Trail 205 was the biggest hazard I would experience (and it was) while trying to figure out a course that looped Little Cranberry, Heart and Whistle Lakes in the ACFL, I knew I was up to the task.

Having spent hours running hundreds of miles along most of the 50 miles of trails in the (2,800 acres of) ACFL over the past seven years with a small group of friends, I’ve wondered why no race exists (save the Dallas Kloke Mt Erie Trail Run, which traverses a mere two miles of trail). Jean Andrich, Development and Outreach Director of Friends of the Forest, explained: No one is allowed to profit from the use of the Anacortes Forest Lands. Unfortunately, not even for a free fun run. Fortunately, while we looked over the maps, she shared the number of her favorite trail, 247, within the Whistle Lake area.

When my friends and I checked it out a few weeks later, we realized why we’d never run it before. From its start just north of Two Big Trees along Heart Lake Road, it climbs about 250′ in the first two-thirds of its 1.5-mile length. This critical section is the toughest and most scenic of the 25K (15.3 mi) Loop the Lakes course. Except for a recently-constructed house visible south of the trail (that led to a newspaper article Neighbors worry about logging near Forest Lands when it was revealed that the owners planned to clear trees), those who traverse this trail should expect to encounter lots of rocks and boulders, see mostly perfectly-spaced trees, and catch a glimpse of Lake Erie as well as a few peekaboo views of Campbell Lake.

Over the next few months, we proceeded to add pieces to this key section using a trial and error approach and a GPS watch to track the distances. I checked in with the City of Anacortes Parks and Forest Lands Manager about the mileage shown on the ACLF maps, which may be purchased locally or downloaded for free. I was disappointed to learn that the maps are to be thought of as “visual representations of the trails.” The distances, shown to the nearest hundredth of a mile, are precise but inaccurate.

In designing the course, the pre-Trail 247 section was obvious as is the one that follows, Trail 22. In generally, ACFL trails numbered with two digits indicates wider trails, three digit indicates single track. From there it continues counterclockwise around Whistle Lake along Trails 205 and 20 (switched to Trail 234 this year because it’s prettier), followed by Trails 21 and 213 in a northwesterly direction and the Heart Lake parking lot.

The route reaches the Heart Lake parking lot at about mile 6.5 and continues along the longest trail (210) within the Heart Lake trails. While the Whistle Lake trails boast the most climb, those around Heart Lake contain the flattest trails within the Forest Lands. This is the section of trail where we’ve observed several dead moles and one live baby mole, probably Scapanus townsendii, the Townsend mole. Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife includes these creatures in its list of 23 mammals, “Young moles disperse above ground at night during the month after weaning, forming their own territories within about 30 yards of their birth site.” Tell that to the one I spied scampering around in midday, oblivious to the danger of daylight.

A mile from the Heart Lake parking lot, the course crosses Havekost Road and reaches Trail 226, the link to the Little Cranberry trails. Last year’s fires forced modification of the section that nears the burned area. Heading north along Trail 103, high above the lake, we exit (as it was closed beyond that point) at Trail 133.

The rest of the Little Cranberry area course followed nearly five miles of trails that we run regularly: 104, 100, 127, 128, 105, 11, 109, 110, 115, 12 and past Mitten Pond along Trail 10, where I have occasionally hear the howls of wolves.

Several wolves call Predators of the Heart, an animal sanctuary located just south of the ACFL boundary, home. The place is not without controversy. In April of this year, owner Dave Coleburn won a court battle that allowed him to continue to operate the sanctuary. More recently, on September 29, a man reported that a wolf attacked and killed his leashed dog while walking in the ACFL. The two sides provide very different accounts of what happened. The course passes within about 500 feet of the sanctuary along Trail 10, then, two miles from the finish, the route returns to Trail 126, then Heart Lake trails 241, 224, 210 and 212 to the end.

Once designed, my trail running friends agreed to Loop the Lakes together. On September 5, 2016, five of us: Erin, JoDee, Megan, Michelle, Nina and I, set out from the Mt Erie Parking lot and headed south on Trail 220. Nina led. She was injured and planned to complete only the Whistle Lake section. Michelle took over as the leader along Trail 247 and through the Whistle Lake trails.

Nina left us as planned when we reached Trail 313 and Megan became the new leader. That’s when my sister’s knee started to hurt. Erin led as we crossed Havekost Road and entered the Little Cranberry Lake trails. Within a mile, JoDee’s IT band discomfort turned to pain. We sent the other three ahead and hiked around the lake. Once we crossed Havekost Road for the second time, she insisted I finish and made her way back to my place. Two miles short of the finish, her Loop the Lakes experience ended. Erin, Michelle, and Megan were long done and gone by the time I completed the last couple of miles. My watch read 15.1 miles, within the margin of error of a typical GPS watch used in the forest. Three weeks later, Erin joined Nina as she completed the Looped the Lakes course. Wanda, with part-time help from Erin, Marcy, and Marilyn, was the last of the six runners to complete the course in 2016.

Think you’ve got what it takes to Loop the Lakes? If so, and you want to join our group (or navigate yourself with a set of marked maps) this year (in early November), contact me at juleerudolf@gmail.com for more information.

Five of us started at Mt Erie on Sunday, November 12, 2017: Erin, Leylan, JoDee, Nina and me. Two stopped at Heart Lake (as was the plan). The rest of us continued on. JoDee’s knee started hurting with 2.5 miles to go, so we sent Nina off to finish on her own and completed the course together. The trails were wet, but blanketed in maple leaves and flanked by the occasional mushroom. We completed the course just in time to avoid all but the beginnings of rainfall.

In 2018, we’ll Loop the Lakes on Sunday 3, June.

Cle Elum Ridge Run 25K: Sometimes, You Just Have To Show Up

A line of bibbed runners file past as we enter the Taneum Junction Campground parking lot in Cle Elum. This is not a good sign, but it’s what we expected. We had just made our way back down a windy, washboard-y gravel road, marked 3330 instead of the intended Forest Service Road 3300, confusing the similarly-numbered roads, that led us a mile or more towards Gooseberry Flat and away from the start.

Turns out, my newfound trail runner friend is not a great navigator. Neither am I. Which is how we found ourselves arriving late, hurriedly parking, dashing to the check-in table (to the surprise of the volunteers), safety-pinning our race bibs to our shirts, and taking off towards and through the inflatable blue start/finish arch about five minutes after the actual 9:00 am start time. What Tiffany lacks in navigational skills, she makes up for in positivity. Upon seeing the short line of participants pass by and realizing how few runners we were up against, she says, “Maybe we could win our divisions,” hers being 40-49, mine 50-59. With all the gonna-be-late-for-the-race adrenaline, we had no time to be nervous. I didn’t feel great, wondering if I had rested too much after completing Cutthroat Classic trail run three weeks prior with an undiagnosed injury. We hadn’t learned until about a couple of weeks before that the 25k (15.3 mi) course distance was closer to 18, but we didn’t care. The conditions were perfect with dry trails, mostly sunny skies, temperatures in the mid-forties and a forecasted high in the mid-sixties.

We chose to run our own races rather than stick together, so it wasn’t long after we started before Tiffany disappeared from view. That was the last I’d see of her and her kelly green shorts until the finish line. My goals were take it easy, complete the course without falling, and hopefully avoid the hip flexor discomfort that had caused me to crumple into a pile several times during the day I completed Cutthroat Classic.

As the race profile promised, the course ascended gradually for the first 7 miles to Cle Elum Ridge and was steepest during the final mile before the summit. I chose to hike much of what I would normally try to run slowly. Even so, I passed a dozen participants on my way up, which was the only thing to do as we’d started at the back of the pack. Miles 8 and 9, downhill along a dirt road, allowed the best views of nearby tree-covered hills and was my favorite part of the race.

At the second aid station, at mile 10.5, the course returned to rolling hills along single track trail. I continued running solo crossing back and forth over North Fork Taneum Creek five times within a couple of miles. From mile 8 to the half marathon point, I encountered only two runners, then passed several more as I reached what should have been the 25K mark, had the race actually been the advertised distance. I passed a few more runners by running slowly up the short uphill sections while they walked. At mile 15.3, I knew I had at least two miles to go based on the race profile. I don’t know if I bonked, having drunk nearly all of the Glacier Cherry Gatorade in my CamelBak, but each of the final three miles felt like several. The trail along the later parts of the race was dusty with a noticeable uphill section along mile 16. Just past mile 17, a sign read “fight to the finish,” which I suspected meant I was nearly there. I was wrong. By the time my watch beeped indicating 18 miles, I could see the upside down u shaped blue inflatable finish line, crossed, accepted my wooden medal, and high-fived Tiffany, who’d come in a few minutes before me.

Bees buzzed around our heads, landing on us and our food as we sat in camp chairs eating tacos and waiting for race organizers to announce division finishers. Sure enough, Tiffany won her 40-49 division and I won mine, which was awesome because it added to our got-lost-and-started-the-race-late adventure. I suggested to the race director that we only won because we were the only ones in our divisions, which she denied. Turned out that I was right (for me but not Tiffany) I was the only female participant age 50-59, which reminded me of something I’d learned long ago: sometimes, you just have to show up. And if you continue running long enough, you may be the only one in your division who shows up, though it’s more fun to win your division by beating other same-aged runners.

I recently read Jonathan Beverly’s book: Run Strong Stay Hungry, which contains 9 Keys To Staying In the Race. The author interviews 51 runners, finds out why some high school and/or college runners became runners for life and why others are Once a Runner (reference to a running book I never liked to you non-reader runners); provides excerpts from the interviews that fit his 9 Keys (for example, Consistency, Variety and Training By Feel); and tries, not entirely successfully, to put it all together in an organized way. The book would seem to have a limited target audience, current runners considering quitting, but contains a few pearls, including my favorite, from Deena Kastor (p 113), “That has really been the reward of running. It hasn’t really been the medals or accolades or the records. It has been those moments of clearly seeing you’ve created a stronger version of yourself.” As a person who hasn’t received medals (except simply for participating or a rare age division win) or accolades or set a record, I love the fact that Kastor, an Olympic medalist and American record holder’s reward claims is the same as mine, beyond the way running makes me feel, completing a difficult run (like this 15.3 miler that turned out to be an 18 miler) not only gives me a great feeling of accomplishment but also helps me create a stronger version of myself.

What’s SUP?

The second day of summer 2017 was the best one ever for a couple of stand up paddle boarders lucky enough to book a tour with Jennifer and Shawn McFarland of Sound Yoga and SUP. Moments after the leader suggested the group stand down and move towards the shore for a break, a pod of five orcas emerged from the swirling seas, made its way through the loosely-spaced group, and swam off to the south. Jenny Bull, paddle boarding for the second time in her life, was taking photos with her cell phone, so was in the perfect position to shoot a video of the unusual experience. Both KIRO and the SeattlePI reported the story and shared the video, licensed with Storyful, which has received nearly 250,000 views. Unfortunately, neither the videographer nor the licensing company were willing to share information about money to be made by viral videos, so I’ll just continue to wonder.

Ever since I met Jennifer in April of 2016, she’s been trying to take me out stand up paddle boarding “SUP,” one of her many passions that include: teaching at SVC, hiking, trail running, swimming and yoga. Not only does she take folks on tours, she teaches yoga both in studio and on paddle boards.

Have I mentioned. I hate yoga.

An excerpt (Pp 126-7) from Dan Harris’s book about mindfulness and mediation 10% Happier: How I Tamed the Voice in My Head, Reduced Stress Without Losing My Edge, and Found Self-Help That Actually Works–A True Story best sums up the way I feel when I attempt to meditate,

“I try to focus on my breathing, but I can’t keep up a volley of more than one or two breaths.

In.

Out.

In.

Holy crap. I think my feet are going to snap off at the ankle.

Come on, dude.

In.

It feels like a dinosaur has my rib cage in its mouth.

Out.

I’m hungry. It’s really quiet in here. I wonder if anyone else in here is freaking out right now.”

That’s how I felt while trying to meditate during Jennifer’s yoga class, which I attended in studio several times before simply giving up. Second on my Things I Hate List: swimming. Third: being cold. Doing SUP yoga would give me the chance to do three things I hate at the same time, which is why I’ve never tried it.

But Jennifer won’t take no for an answer. She finally figured out how to get me to say yes, offering my friends and I a group tour of Little Cranberry Lake with a promised encounter with a plant about which I’ve been obsessed for ten years, Drosera rotundifolia, the round-leaved sundew or common sundew, “The plant feeds on insects, which are attracted to the glistening drops of mucilage, loaded with a sugary substance, covering its leaves. It has evolved this carnivorous behaviour in response to its habitat, which is usually poor in nutrients or is so acidic that nutrient availability is severely decreased. The plant uses enzymes to dissolve the insects – which become stuck to the glandular tentacles – and extract ammonia (from proteins) and other nutrients from their bodies. ” According to Plants of the Pacific Northwest Coast (P 351), “Sundews are commonly pollinated by the same insects they ensnare in their sticky tentacles and use for food: mosquitoes, midges and gnats.” Oak Harbor Elementary School Art Specialist Karen Merrill first introduced me (along with her 2nd-grade students) to the plant in 2006 when I volunteered in her art room. I’ve been obsessed with it ever since but had never seen one before.

On July 27, four of us joined Jennifer at the north end of Little Cranberry Lake for a paddle boarding adventure. After providing safety instructions and adjusting our paddle lengths, she sent us off in a kneeling position near the shore before suggesting we brave the slightly scarier experience of standing up in deeper water. It was a group tour and lesson, so she explained proper techniques, which we tried to employ, mostly successfully. It wasn’t long before we neared the south end of the lake, where the sundew plants live. My tourmates barely blinked before gliding past while Jennifer sent me over to observe and photograph the surprisingly small plant. I can’t believe it took ten years for me to see a species that has lived nearly right in my back yard. We floated over logs and past bogs for nearly an hour before returning to our departure point. Nobody fell in and we couldn’t’ wait to go again.

A month later, Jennifer took us on a second guided tour and lesson at Campbell Lake, which, according to Department of Ecology, is “…a shallow kettle lake carved by glacial activity. It receives water overflow from Erie Lake, Whistle Lake, and Trafton Lake, along with input from intermittent streams. [It] discharges into Puget Sound.” Our goal: circumnavigate the tiny 3.32 acre nameless island, owned by the State of Washington and Department of Natural Resources.

The water was flat calm as we departed from the boat launch and headed towards the island. There wasn’t much to it except a bunch of trees and rocks with steeply sloped sides, so we continued towards a mass of lily pads near the Naked Man Valley area of Deception Pass State Park and passed by The Rock, a 20-acre parcel once owned by a famous artist named Morris Graves. Paddling through Yellow Pond Lily stems was a challenge, but the location gave us a great view of Mt Erie. A slight breeze came up as we left the lily pads and crossed from the south to the north side of the lake. We heard a splash and noticed one of our group members pull herself back onto her board. Even the best paddlers (and she was) get wet sometimes.

Two weeks later, when I crossed the Deception Pass Bride from Whidbey to Fidalgo Island, I noticed that the often swirling waters of the pass were calm. My first thought was that of a SUP Convert: looks like the perfect conditions for stand up paddle boarding.

Bad News, Free Shoes, Spectacular Views

Standing alone in our tiny, two-room, bathroomless cabin in Winthrop on race morning, I took a step, felt a twinge atop my thigh, and collapsed, which didn’t seem like a great start to my Cutthroat Classic 2017 adventure. Even worse: it happened twice more before I’d even made my way to the start line. Less than a week earlier, seven friends and I completed a team total of 126 miles with 36,000 feet of climb at Crystal Mountain Resort at Ragnar Trail Rainier. I knew that racing back to back weekends was a bad idea, but I had been looking forward to seeing the view from the top and wasn’t going to let a skinned knee or my fear of falling get in the way.

In its 19th year, Cutthroat Classic is named not for what runners might think. Cutthroat is: a synonym for assassin, an adjective for “(of a competitive situation or activity) fierce and intense; involving the use of ruthless measures,” and a salmon species with a red streak along the base of its throat as shown in this photo.

The Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife site describes the Race’s namesake lake as, “at 4935 feet…chocked full of an abundance of easy to catch Westslope Cutthroat Trout that average about 7 inches.” “The Westslope Cutthroat Trout is…one of three subspecies of cutthroat trout that occur in Washington…[they] can be found in lakes and rivers east of the Cascade mountain range…prefer[ring] pristine headwater streams and alpine lakes.” Wikipedia explains its scientific name, “Oncorhynchus clarki lewisi. The subspecies was first described in the journals of explorer William Clark from specimens obtained during the Lewis and Clark Expedition from the Missouri River Great Falls, Montana. Cutthroat trout were given the name Salmo clarki in honor of William Clark, who co-led the expedition of 1804–1806. One of Lewis and Clark’s missions was to describe the flora and fauna encountered during the expedition.”

A cutthroat relative is currently in the news: Salmo salar or the Atlantic salmon. An NPR article Why Are Atlantic Salmon Being Farmed In The Northwest? answers concerned citizens’ questions about the recent accidental release of a pen of farmed Atlantic salmon in the San Juans: “between 4,000 and 185,700” Atlantic Salmon escaped their pens; “Most commercial fish farms raise Atlantic salmon” because they are “highly domesticated;” “Attempts to establish wild runs — outside of the Atlantic Ocean — have failed across the U.S.;” “farmed salmon…are treated with vaccines;” “This event is not that unique and so far no Atlantic salmon escapes have established self-sustaining populations or caused known damage to wild stocks;” “The Atlantic salmon bring with them pollution, virus and parasite amplification, and all that harms Pacific salmon and our waters.” But the sky is not falling, “According to a NOAA Fisheries report, escaped farmed salmon that carry diseases have a relatively low risk of spreading them to wild fish…because pathogens are already present in the water, and escapees likely won’t be infectious enough to contaminate healthy wild populations. Escaped fish also aren’t very fit, so they are often quickly eaten by predators.”

Three of the four of us racers stayed at the KOA in Winthrop on a tip. I don’t camp, so I didn’t get why anyone would want to go to such a place. Race morning, we Wave 3 starters watched as our Wave 2 (no walking) friend Erin took off from the Rainy Pass trail head in Mazama. She was right to choose it based on her predicted finish. By the time folks started, nobody knew who’d begun in the No Walking wave and who hadn’t. Concerned about falling, I watched my sister and Marci head off in front while I carefully picked my way along the trail, faux running behind a friendly young gal from Issaquah named Jenny, who sported brunette braids and reminded me what the race was all about by remarking on the amazing views at appropriate times.

Just before mile 3, our fearless leader Jenny dropped off, leaving me in the lead of a pack of about six runners. We slowly, methodically continued “running” for about two miles. Then I stepped aside, allowing my followers to pass by at one of the most scenic spots. I’d heard the summit was located at about the 10 K mark, and it was. The view from the top compared only to that of the Oregon Coast 30K in Yachats. I was relieved to begin the descent, running solo for about a mile before crumpling to the ground for a fourth time that day and acquiring a twin to my first skinned knee. A guy in a yellow T called back to ask if I was okay (I was) and continued. I slowed down even more, allowing the folks I’d passed on the way up to pass me back during the dustiest part of the course. I was relieved to hear finishers and spectators cheering, cross a wooden bridge, and breach the finish line at about Mile 11.

On the shuttle bus back, we connected with runners from Bellingham, possibly forming a complete Hood to Coast 2018 team. At race headquarters, it appeared that JoDee had placed 3rd in the 50-59 Division, so we left for lunch with an hour to go until the 12:30 Awards presentation. I watched her face as they called the 3rd place finisher…Bad News: a different runner! The race director suggested she be contacted immediately about any discrepancies, and she was. After asking about the Women’s 50-59 finishers, a volunteer handed JoDee an extra third place ribbon and mug while we awaited the official results, which wouldn’t be posted for days (JoDee placed 4th by 18 seconds). Our return was not for naught, Erin won a pair of $160 shoes from Winthrop Mountain Sports. I reunited with a woman I’d met at the Mt Erie Trail Run who agreed to join our Ragnar Trail Rainier team in 2018.

The joy of hanging out with old friends and making new ones outweighed my disappointment at not finishing faster. We resolved to return in two years to give the course another go, hopefully, with better results. As we prepared to depart our Winthrop KOA Campground the following morning, another spectacular sight awaited us: a hot air balloon in lift-off. The perfect end to a near-perfect weekend.