(Editor’s note: This is the third in a three-part series).
Having successfully retrieved our crew at Red Star Ridge, we loaded up in the Jeeps and headed to our next destination: Devil’s Thumb. Getting there involved more rocky, bumpy dirt roads, but as we came through some trees, the view opened up to reveal a breathtaking landscape of rock formations, trees and ridge lines set against a deep blue sky. With barely enough juice left to turn on, I managed to snap a few quick still photos from my seat. Kathleen Sailor swapped lenses on her camera and began to click away. Soon, we were off again. I put away my still camera, the battery dead. I had a nearly full battery on my digital video camera, though, when we pulled into our destination a little before noon.
The Devil’s Thumb aid station appeared to be a bit larger than previous
setups and we were told the runners would begin arriving in about an
hour.
Here’s where my afternoon took a downward turn. Unfamiliar with the
trail, I agreed to hike down with the rest of the crew to the swinging
bridge. “It’s only three-quarters of a mile,” I was told. A senator
from Montana, attending the race to cheer on a runner, hiked down part
of the way, but decided against it and turned around to go back. Did
this guy from Montana know something I didn’t?
Breathtaking views greeted those on the 100-Mile Western States Endurance Run. Photo by Don Chaddock.
One of the aid station crew had said something about the trek from the
station to the bridge being 1.6 miles with 1600 feet of elevation
change and 36 switchbacks. This out-of-shape, overweight, pasty-skinned
desk jockey was about to be schooled in the real meaning of endurance.
The hike down the steep root-infested, rock-littered trail was
difficult at best. Scrabbling to maintain my footing, with portions of
the trail narrowing to a few feet across, I started to realize that
this was a bad idea.
About half way down, Oregon’s Hal Koerner jogged by, looking just as
fresh and perky as he did when I saw him that morning at 6:15 a.m. In
fact, I’m sure he looked much better than I did at that moment.
Applying the proverbial brakes most of the way, I was exhausted by the
time we made it to the swinging bridge. More runners came across and we
were able to get some decent film footage.
A quick dip in the chilly river was refreshing and we gathered
ourselves to set out on our return trip back up the trail. As soon as I
walked up to the bridge, I knew I was in trouble. I was weak and out of
gas before I’d even started the trip back.
With a full bottle of water and a baseball cap I dipped in the
waterfall to keep cool, I put my head down and soldiered on. I
struggled up that hill, taking two hours and lots of rest stops, before
reaching the aid station. With help from Bridget Powers, Harvey Roper
and Monti Reynolds, I was able to make it to the top around 4 p.m.,
ending my four-hour Devil’s Thumb ordeal. As I told Bob Richardson, I
will never make that hike again, but I will hike other (easier) areas
of the trail as I work to lose this excess baggage around my
mid-section (and everywhere else).
Part 1 | Part 2
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