NOWHERE MAN – How Irv got lost.
As I was listening to the fine trail description given by John Bartley (co RD), I realized with sudden fear that I could get quite lost on the western side of Meridian Peak.  I had never been there and runners got lost over there last year.  The map was good to have but I had my contacts in and couldn’t read any of the detail.  Oh brother.  So, I employed some behavior the Striders have come to expect from this quiet dignified trail ape (did I mention charming?).  After a bit of chest thumping, grunts, screams, and knuckle dragging, the crowd at the Morris Meadow Trail Head threw me some bananas to distract me from my temper tantrum.  The race began just a little after 8am with Karl Meltzer & Ken Jensen dashing out to the front.  Ruth Zollinger and Lorrie Hutchinson were out there for the women.  We headed north and soon took the BST trail dropping west into the mouth of City Creek where we went straight across the road by the holding pond and danced up the trail on the west side of the canyon heading north again.  In a mile we took the BST up towards the southern swing around Meridian Peak and the radio facility peaks.  Climbing through Hell Canyon wasn’t as bad as it looks on paper.  I bet most of the front pack ran the whole hill.  As I was hiking up through the canyon and contemplating pain I heard the sound of a Rufous Sided Towhee raising his melodious voice in the bare Gambel Oak Brush saying, “Hot Male Towhee here.  Come and get me chicks!”  He didn’t think I was much of a threat as the black headed bird with rust colored chest sat in his little tree and trilled away.  My calf started really protesting at this point and I had to walk the uphills.  It tightens up and my foot sometimes goes numb.  It eventually goes away if I walk through it.  Walking was good at this point anyway.  Eventually I came up to a saddle overlooking North Salt Lake.  You can see down on the gravel pits and the oil refinery and also down on any airplanes flying about Salt Lake Valley – eerie feeling.  Best of all, you can see the Oquirrh Mountains, Stansbury Island, Deseret Peak, and Antelope Island northwestward out in the Great Salt Lake on a clear day and really enjoy the scenery.  Ahhh! Well, of course, this was where the little trail mishap took place.  I passed the road which takes  a hard right up to Meridian Peak as I was blissfully dancing along the Bonnevillle Shoreline Trail gazing out to my left at the Great Salt Lake and only when I came to the pipeline did I realize I was lost, lost, lost.  Nowhere Man indeed!
Don’t follow us Shauna, we are lost!
But just before I knew I was lost, a speedy runner dashed down the hill past me and the rocks as if we were standing still (well, at least I was moving slightly faster than the rocks).   That was Shauna Heisler and I saw her disappear in the distance catching up with Barb Ellis.  At the pipeline Ron Daniels, Thom Dickeson, and I decided to drag our lost little soles up the steepest and shortest way possible (not necessarily the quickest way).  Paul Hansen and a few others high-tailed it back south to the road cutting up to Meridian Peak.  It was very scenic if you like looking at rocks and the tips of your shoes from real close up.  After we made it back onto the course again at the top, I congratulated myself on a wise choice but was prepared to say to anyone who asked that I really got lost deliberately for the scenery (always have a few good lies prepared in advance).
Circled by BUZZARDS! On the way down into City Creek I greeted Cynthia Daniels who assured me that Ron was doing fine and taking it easy on the descent.  This downhill section was more than a little steep and a quad ripper. At the bottom just after hitting asphalt, Shauna passed me again and Barb went on by.  Thom was close behind.  Shauna made a pit stop so a few minutes later as I was climbing to Morris Meadow she passed me again.  When 2 Turkey Vultures started circling within 10 or 20 feet overhead as I wandered through the Gambel Oak (no leaves yet) near the top, my mind was screaming, “Not yet! I ain’t dead yet! Shauna just makes me look that way!”  At the aid station Kathie Utley and Lise Brunhart were chatting with Dan Barnett.  I grabbed a bagel, a few cookies and pretzels.  Dan was kind enough to notice my water bottle was empty and refilled it.  I was distracted by the munching and crunching sounds my mouth was making inbetween swallows so I didn’t remember I was on empty.   I walked out of the aid station along the Bonneville Shoreline Trail heading east humming a little tune as crumbs of pretzels fell to the ground and grunts of satisfaction from a full tummy sounded across the meadow.
 Trail Dancing with Barb – After a steady climb past the water tank above Terrace Hills Drive and circling above Perrys Hollow I reached the Black Mountain Ridge trail and the Bonneville Shoreline Trail junction.  Barb Ellis had caught up and we ran together for a few miles.  Barb is signed up to run the Wasatch and was getting in some early runs. This was a good trainer for it.  Lots of rocks, lots of hills.  The mountain bikers were not too much of a nuisance, which surprised me.  Guess it is early season for them.
Barb and I with Thom not far behind here worked our way above Spring Gulch and then Limekiln Gulch.  You can see the lime kilns still standing, a testament to pioneer ingenuity. The water cache in the northern fork of Dry Creek was very welcome.  Temperatures had heated up a bit so I was a thirsty dog.   As I dropped down the trail to the Red Butte loop Haikki Ingstrom came up.  We exchanged greetings and hastily departed since Haikki noticed WE WERE WEARING THE SAME KIND OF SHOES!   Oh, major fashion faux pas that.   I hope no one saw us.
Have a Hart Hill and Smoo Hill (Fell Run)
The history of this part of the course goes way back.  In 1974, I started working on this upper trail above the hospital.  By the early 80’s I had connected a faint trail before the biker boom through Cephalopod Gulch and then Battle Gulch.  I straightened out a mess I made in Battle Gulch and that is the trail we are using today done with a pick axe, shovel and rake. It is holding up pretty good and the bikers have mainly given up on the steep shortcut there although not entirely.   Over by the water tank on the southern facing slope of Red Butte Canyon I built a high trail to avoid all the bad ones bikers were making.  At the time, I wanted a small footpath to stay out of their way.  I rarely run there anymore without bumping into 2 or 3 bikers making their way up the trail.  I haven’t worked on it for a number of years but it is holding up quite well, still rocky and bumpy,  and it isn’t 12 feet wide like many of the other biking trails have become. In the 80’s, theWasatach Alpine Striders had a spring running event in early May called the Oh! My Big Fat Red Butte Fell Run.  It was a loop course, 5.2 miles, 6 X 5.2 = 50 K, and a good training run where runners could run fast or go for endurance.   I once ran 47 .5 miles on it.  Yeah, nuts!  But not as nuts as running 6 minute miles on it like some Wasatch Veterans.   The climb up from the Red Butte Creek crossing was called “Have-a-Hart Hill” and I still call it that although the exact climb has changed since they built the black chain link fence around the Red Butte Gardens.  I was slightly ahead of Barb for this section until we got to the hill climb (ugh).  As we got directly above the stone building in Soldier Hollow, Barb and I could see Kathie, Lise, and Thom directly below us.  We thought they would catch us and we could go back as a group.  However, the inertia this heavier mass body developed on the downhill section after Smoo Hill** came into play as it carried me forward and onward unable to slow down for quite a few miles.  After climbing back to Cephalopod gulch, I hoofed it up Dry Creek to the water cache again.  A welcome sight.
**Smoo Hill was named by Paul Hart when he decided it looked like the Smoo's in the Lil Abner cartoons - think bowling pins with eyes and little legs.
Scaring the magpies
Barb caught me on this big hill again.  It was a real lung sucker type of climb up the north fork of Dry Creek and onto the Black Mountain Ridge Trail.  Wooee!  I got another really good look at trail rocks and my trail shoe toe tips.   My breathing was somewhat on the loud side.  I distinctly remember a flock of Magpies and a few Pinion Jays scattering when they heard MR. CHOO-CHOO TRAIN huffing and puffing his way up the hill like the Big Bad Wolf.  We stood there for a moment and could see Kathie and Lise working there way up the hill with a couple of hundred yards to go.  Brrr!  The wind was really chilling us down.  I pulled out my gloves and Barb put on a windbreaker and gloves as we started the last part of the journey.  As we curved around Twin Peaks along the ridge trail I remember looking up at a pair of American Kestrels (Sparrow Hawks) hovering in the air above us looking for something wiggly and  juicy to eat.  Fortunately, I was not wiggly and probably dehydrated enough to discourage any second looks.  The view out west of the Great Salt Lake was another remarkable view on this scenic course I appreciated.  The last time I was running this direction on the ridge, I was showing Sue and Mark Garney how to run downhill like a gorilla and hoping I didn't trip and fall on my face when they were looking.
Dancing Home
On the dance back home I enjoyed the little prance down the hill.  I was jubilant to be able to put together enough training to be able to even enter this event and elated to finish.   The hills had definitely removed any heel clicking thoughts but my inner child was doing cartwheels.  As I rounded the last corner and headed for the Barnett home, I looked behind me and discovered no one else there.  That was a surprise.  Being last is a fond habit of mine and I was momentarily unnerved to be in this position.  Well, no doubt the Striders will rectify that soon enough.  I got in at 7 hour and 20 minutes.  It was as hard and as fun as I could hope.  Thanks for the company Barb and all the others.  Thanks to JB and DB for making the journey possible.
Gorilla