Who?
Agenda
| Juan de Fuca Trail Run - Open Date | |
| If you do not live on the Island, you will need to overnight. It's advisable to lodge near the trail head in either Jordan River or Port Renfrew | |
| 07:00 | Arrive at the trailhead |
| 07:30 | Start running on the Juan de Fuca Trail |
| 15:30 | 8 hour finish (This would be a very, very fast time for this trail!) Strong trail runners anticipate 10 hours |
Notes
The results of anyone who runs the course will be listed here as they become available. If you run the trail we appreciate if you blog about your run and send us names of all runners, times, photos and a run report so others will benefit.
| Name | Date | Time |
| Dom Repta | 02 Sept 2006 | 7:30 |
| Gary Robbins | 02 Sept 2006 | 7:30 |
| John McGrath | 02 Sept 2006 | 7:30 |
| Mark Fearman | 02 Sept 2006 | 8:05 |
| Desmond Mott | 16 Sept 2006 | 8:20 |
| Chris Benn | 16 Sept 2006 | 8:20 |
| Tim Wiens | 16 Sept 2006 | 8:20 |
| Carlos Castillo | 02 Sept 2006 | 9:35 |
| Ean Jackson | 02 Sept 2006 | 9:35 |
| Berglind Hafsteindottir | 02 Sept 2006 | 9:35 |
| Carlos Castillo | 09 Sept 2006 | 10:21 |
After wrapping up the Cleveland Dam aid station at the Kneeknacker, welcoming an exuberant husband at his 15th KK finish and packing the car for a 5 day camping trip, said husband and offspring were off to a secret location on the west coast of Vancouver Island.
After a leisurely breakfast the next morning, I started to contemplate a run west along the Juan De Fuca Trail only to be rudely interrupted by Ean, who suggested I'd better get my ducks in a row as high tide would soon cut off my way back. Oops. Off I went, first briefly along a wide trail, then on a rocky shoreline. The sun was beating down and I
soaked my headband a couple of times in icy creeks before gratefully picking up the forest trail again. I had given myself 30min out to make sure I wouldn't end up waist deep in the Pacific Ocean, but a quick glance at the tidal chart reassured me I would be fine for another 20min or so. The trail meandered along a ridge revealing breathtaking views of the ocean below and the Olympic Peninsular beyond. Dark, fertile mud patches were almost dried out and easily navigated. Finally, a a suspension bridge strung high over a gurgling creek seemed an adequate turnaround. Scanning the water to assess the incoming tide I heard the telltale whoosh of a whale breathing just off shore and saw a huge tail fluke rise up into the air. The humpback whale accompanied me along the shore line all the way back the tent, surfacing every so often. The tide was no problem and elated, I
made my way back to a freezing dip in the ocean at our campsite.
The cougar and bear warnings a bit disheartening and the mosquitoes huge and voracious. But once I set off on the trail, I quickly fell into a rhythm. The trail is well marked and in various states of maintenance. Dry, smooth forest floor changed to over grown, rooty and muddy terrain to extensive board walk sections. Every so often the canopy of trees would open and allow glimpses of the Pacific Ocean. Fog loomed in the distance. Frequent bear scat made me holler every few minutes...at least, I figured I gave the bears a choice of eating me or waiting for the next single traveller ;-) At one point a loud buzzing noise made me stop and wonder what huge insect was attacking me. Two humming birds were the culprits. They must have mistaken my iceberg blue club shirt with a wild flower. They came so close, I whipped my camera out and attempted to take a photo only to all of a sudden find myself on the forest floor, right leg thigh deep in a hole disguised by salal brush. Luckily, apart from a few superficial scratches on the legs and ego, I didn't get hurt.
Until hitting Botanical Beach after about 2 hours I only met 1 group of hikers. Definitely not a well travelled area.
pocket I was dropped of at the roadside access to Parkinson's Creek (Ean mumbled something about not driving on that road again). Running down this forest road was the only time I felt scared of meeting a cougar... picking up a sharp rock I resolved to fight whatever would stalk me. Once on the trail, I soon fell at ease. There was no way any animal would be able to approach me unheard, the forest was so thick. I kept up my frequent hollering from the previous day and was thankful not to run into other hikers. Soon a steady rain began to fall and the ocean was blanketed by a thick fog cover. Wet coast indeed! The trail was much
rougher than the previous stretch. Salal and horsetail almost covered the track. What was almost dried out mud yesterday quickly turned into black liquid muck. Roots and bridges were slimy slides. No whales or humming birds accompanied me this time. They all had found shelter somewhere else. I was glad I had brought the emergency blanket along. At one point I briefly lost the trail, but luckily didn't get off track very long.
.
Well here we go again with the weekly Juan de Fuca Marine Trail report! This is the third weekend in a row that CFA members have done this event. Des had planned for Chris, Bill Dagg, and I to run it this Saturday since we were all unable to do it on the long weekend. Bill jammed, but for a great reason -- he was offered a trip to New Zealand on short notice.Des planned for an eight to nine hour run starting at 7:30. The idea was to enjoy the day and not try to set any speed record. As planned, we left China beach at 7:25. Showers the night before had us a little worried, but the weather was perfect. Clear skies and a moderate temperature. Carlos had recommended running the trail from the top end, but Des thought running from China
beach would get the more difficult sections out of the way while we had more energy. The day unfolded according to plan. Great views and hours of listening to the surf while we took our
time running / hiking along the coast. It took us about five hours to get to Sombrio where we took a 20 minute break for lunch. We had stashed some food and water there the night before (no drinking from creeks necessary). Des had his second of three containers of Mott’s tomato juice. He kept boasting about the “2600 milligrams of Sodium!” in every container. Seems to have worked. The only thing I stashed were some Purdy’s almond clusters but they were welcome too.
I was surprised at how much climbing and descending we had to do on this trail. I was picturing a nice trail along a sandy beach or something. It was a little frustrating in that every time we
tried to get some kind of running rhythm going, the trail would turn a corner and we would have to navigate a mud pit or some steep, slippery descent. When we finally reached a section of access road, we blasted through it and finally had a chance to stretch out a little. The only real disappointment of the day was the absence of whale sightings. Just a couple of snakes. The low high tides meant we could travel all the beach sections. We tired a little toward the finish, but when the last kilometer turned into access road again, Chris and I charged up the hill to finish off the day’s trek.
Des talked a friendly Texan couple into giving Chris a drive down to Port Renfrew to pick up his vehicle and within a few minutes we were having cold beer at the local pub. Unfortunately for Des there was no Guinness on tap.
It was good to get out on a trail after five weeks of no trail running. I was a little worried about being able to run with these guys, but our 8:20 time allowed me to keep up.
So who’s planning to run the JDF next weekend?
Tim
At first I though it was Carlos. (He's the pirate standing next to me in the blue Club Fat Ass t-shirt.) The evening before our attempt at running the Juan de Fuca Marine Trail, the boys went out to Buffy's Pub in Sooke, BC and we stuffed our faces. Carlos had a humungous plate of liver and onions and a couple of pale ales. Add 12 hours, pile on a bunch of gels, some bagel and some jalapeno beef jerky and you have all of the ingredients for a bad case of gas. He was a natural... but he wasn't the skunk.
I didn't think it could be Berglind. She's such a small woman and this was a powerful smell. Besides, I've been told that women don't fart, so it couldn't be her.
True, a skunk smells it's own smell first and I have been known to generate some brutal methane, but this time it wasn't me, either.
So there we were: Berglind, Carlos and me in the middle of nowhere on a rocky outcropping on Sombrio Point with trees behind us and the Pacific Ocean in front of us, and one bad smell circulating around us. Then we saw the whales. Three of them, in fact. We could almost reach out and touch them, they were so close to us. You can see 2 of them in the photo if you look closely.
What an amazing sight it was to behold. Certainly the highlight of my running this year!
So now that the source of the foul wind has been identified, can anyone clarify which orifice a whale farts from?