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FLRC Newsletter - August 2004 |
| Thunderheads | |
We inducted a new set of runners into the Thunderhead group with the grueling, rain-swept "Monkey Run" the evening of July 8. Here are the highlights of the tale, with strong action sequences edited for family viewing.
It began with Tim Ingall slyly convincing a group of us to try the "full Monkey," even though none of us knew the course in its entirety. Ominous clouds swept in overhead as we stowed our things in Tim's trunk for safekeeping, but Tim made it clear that our run, should we choose to accept it, would not stop for a few raindrops. Thus is was that a fearless group of eight headed out shortly after 6 pm: Tim, Bob W, Geoff H, Michael W, Jay H, John W, Brendan, and myself. We headed out through the Cornell Plantations, but before we got there, the clouds opened up for a small taste of the downpour to come: Rain began to pelt us from above, and winds tore around the rim of the Plantations bowl. The one other person we saw was hiding under a tree. As we crossed Forest Home to the wooden suspension bridge, thunder rolled in the distance, and gloomy darkness greeted us as we entered the woods and took the trail leading up to the horse farm. When we broke out into the light again, the clouds had paused their onslaught, and I foolishly thought the worst was past. Even so, Bob announced he was turning back.
In doing so, he missed the best part of the run, because as we crossed the garden plots and picked up the trail on the other side of Freese Rd, the rain clouds ripped wide open. Tim was laughing madly, striding on ahead, leading us toward the cliff-side trails, now transformed into torrents of muddy water and uneven footing. Pouring water made my vision blurry, even as we tried to negotiate some of the more technical sections of the trail, largely obscured by rushing water. We lost John Whitman on the steep descent to creek level, but sighted him again later as we neared the CRC park. But then he was lost again to the watery depths of the forest. We never saw him again. My entire world was reduced to the three feet of trail I could make out ahead in the darkening rain; occasionally, we paused to see if the remainder of our tiny crew was still alive.
At about 45 minutes out, we reached Rt. 13, and Jay showed us where the return trail picked up on the other side of the creek. By now, the rain had lessened considerably, but the trails were awash in debris and ankle deep water in many places. At one point, we crossed a roaring streambed that, by Adam Engst's standards, was probably more than waist-deep. Brambles, large branches, and washed-out trail made the return even more fun. Tim's chortling laughter spurred us on, even though only Jay had seen this stretch before. The floods had significantly altered its appearance, carving new paths and flattening brush over the tiny sliver of trail. Nonetheless, we exercised our innate Thunderhead cunning and threaded our way back efficiently, with only a few unplanned "add-ons." When the steel trestle bridge came into view, we at last knew where we were, and took the trails to Stevenson Rd. Coming back on the Rec Trail, we hit a ridiculously fast 6:01 mile, and then coasted up to the Crescent parking lot for an exhausted finish.
We hope JBW wasn't washed away. And though Bob didn't stick it out, we reckon he's still pretty tough for electing to run speedwork on Tuesday with Earl instead of at the track meet.
Not every Thunderhead run is this thrilling, but, occasionally and weather permitting, a run like this one will qualify you for lifetime Thunderhead status. Welcome, new Thunderhead runners!
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