The next bite will take place on September 19.

Under an initially overcast sky, they set off for a brief tour of Cockaponsset Forest before returning to feast on a selection of offers that ranged from grilled eggplant to peanut butter energy balls. The rules of badminton were tested to the limit and the conversation covered important topics such as the upcoming Trans-Rockies race and who was planning to run the Bluff! Guess you had to be there.

Wyoming is a vast countryside surrounded by beautiful mountain views. We decided to check out parts of the course by driving to a designated aid station. Our first stop was checking out the start of the race. We hiked into the trail and were struck by it’s beauty. Echos of the river bouncing off the wall of rock made it seem like the river was on both sides of us. The next day we drove to the Footbridge Aid Station which was quite an adventure in itself! We forded three streams and drove along such a narrow path to get there. Thank god that section was only two miles but still took us around a half hour to cover that distance. We had to cut our hike short due to an approaching storm but not before we got a chance to reach a meadow high up and putting our feet in a roaring stream. It was SO COLD it made our feet ache!! The following day we drove up to the third aid station ( Dry Fork) that crews were allowed. We literally got there and the cold wind was blowing something fierce so we ate our lunch in the car and drove back into town. Meanwhile, all this time we were keeping an eye out for any signs of moose or bear but no such luck! Darn!!

I found out Brian was a massage therapist too and had run this before. This year he had a heel injury which caused him to drop out. He recounted the story of Carl Meltzer being attacked by a moose 2 times during last years race near the turnaround point. Carl was so shook up by the incident that he had some kids run ahead to make sure the coast was clear. He still managed to win the race!

I head to the finish and meet up with John, Tammy, and Miles who all dropped out near or at the turnaround. I decided to put on my stinky clothes for the 3rd time in over 24 hours and run up the road to meet Jerry. The sun was beating down pretty hard on the runners and there was no shade. I finally meet up with him with about 4 miles to go. We walked down the road together and reach an aid station that was giving out Popsicles, YUM! We cross the highway and begin to run in to the finish. He did it!

It has become a tradition of a sort to watch Jerry take off his shoes and socks and view the agony of the feet, EEEEEEEWWWW!!!

The next day, the Rotary Club put on a great pancake breakfast for all the runners, supporters, volunteers, and families and the awards were given out. Jerry placed third in his age group and 24th overall. Great job Jerry!!!

Drove out to the Big Horn River Canyon to find the aid station known as Footbridge. The ride was nearly 2 hours long from the finish line and involved the fording of 3 creek crossings and several miles on what the directions described as ‘primitive roads’. The reality was pot hole filled dirt tracks – thank goodness the Chevy Tahoe has good ground clearance. Close to the canyon entrance we saw several cabins perched precariously close the the Big Horn River – how people slept at these places beat us as the river noise was quite loud. They didn’t look fun though and most obviously had electricity. a few had bottled gas but that seems to the limited of their modern conveniences. The small sentry sized shed a few feet away from the cabin suggested that some aspects were a little primitive.

We climbed up the canyon side on the steepest side and quickly left the roaring river below, but about a quarter of the way the skies suddenly darkened and the sound of distance thunder sent us back down towards the car. No sooner had we reach it, the heavens opened and dumped a brief but heavy shower while we bounced from one water filled hole to another back to civilization. Around us lightening strikes crashed down well off in the distance but it was still spectacular to watch.

The forecast for Friday is sunny and warm while on Saturday there could be scattered thunder storms. We heard this evening that parts of Montana to the north were hit by a large storm cell that dumped large hail stones as it passed. Getting caught in the open up a mountain by hail is going to hurt!

Unusually for our trips to distant 100 milers, we have arrived in the Bighorn mountain region with three full days before the race to explore the area. We flew into Billings, MT early yesterday and then made our way slowly south to Sheridan, WY pausing along the way to visit the location of Custer’s Last Stand and the battle of Little Bighorn. The wide open space of the country is magnificent, the grass plains stretch for miles and it must have been an amazing sight when the plains were filled with herds of buffalo. Sheridan is a small town byeast coast standards but big for this area, the main downtown shopping area hosts numerous outfitters of cowboy / girl apparel (Allstate, one store even had a pink Stetson!) plus one running store, where race registration takes place on Thursday.

After an early night we planned to check out the race start at Dayton, a town of just 679 inhabitants. About 2 miles out of town up an unmade road the race will begin close to the Tongue River trail head. By the time we started out, the sun was beating down and the temperatures were around the low 80s. From the parking area the trail narrowed to barely 2 to 3 feet wide and began to snake up along the side of the river canyon.

Each turn of a corner brought photo moment after photo moment, the scenery is stunning and I was glad to have to opportunity to enjoy it as during the race my focus will be on my feet. Gradually the distance between us and the river increased as the trail snaked higher and higher towards the distant horizon. At one point a huge rock leaning out from the canyon wall created a strange echo effect from the sound of the river below making it sound as if there was a river above as well as below!

We continued to climb passing flagging already in place for the race, and crossed a small fast flowing stream of icy cold water, we had been told that the area had received unusually high rain fall in recent weeks making the landscape very green and lush as well as flooding the rivers. Shortly after the stream crossing the trailed opened onto a hiilside meadow filled with wild flowers and open views. It continued to climb and we made for a post that displayed a notice to explain the meadow had been created by a controlled burn program. Guthrie wanted to try to crest the top of the canyon and we continued up to another post but on reaching it found the summit was still some way up. Running low on water we decided to make our way back and started to run downhill. The going wasn’t particularly technical but the steep narrow trail wasn’t easy and the desire to still take in the spectacular sights caused us to pause now and again.

Back at the car we headed back into Dayton for a cool bear at the Crazy Woman Saloon. If the rest of the course is half as good as those first few miles, it is going to be one heck of a race. Tomorrow we’re going to check out a bit more.

For more pictures, click here

To read more, click here

If you want to try this closer to home, the Vermont 100 miler has simultaneous runner / horse races.

His partner says, “What are you doing? You can’t outrun a bear!”

His friend replies, “I don’t have to outrun the bear, I only have to outrun you!”

A Lone Striker, by Robert Frost

The swinging mill bell changed its rate
To tolling like the count of fate,
And though at that the tardy ran,
One failed to make the closing gate.
There was a law of God or man
That on the one who came too late
The gate for half an hour be locked,
His time be lost, his pittance docked.
He stood rebuked and unemployed.
The straining mill began to shake.
The mill, though many-many-eyed,
Had eyes inscrutably opaque;
So that he couldn’t look inside
To see if some forlorn machine
Was standing idle for his sake.
(He couldn’t hope its heart would break.)

And yet he thought he saw the scene:
The air was full of dust of wool.
A thousand yarns were under pull,
But pull so slow, with such a twist,
All day from spool to lesser spool,
It seldom overtaxed their strength;
They safely grew in slender length.
And if one broke by any chance,
The spinner saw it at a glance.
The spinner still was there to spin.
That’s where the human still came in.
Her deft hand showed with finger rings
Among the harplike spread of strings.
She caught the pieces end to end
And, with a touch that never missed,
Not so much tied as made them blend.
Man’s ingenuity was good.
He saw it plainly where he stood,
Yet found it easy to resist.

He knew another place, a wood,
And in it, tall as trees, were cliffs;
And if he stood on one of these,
‘Twould be among the tops of trees,
Their upper branches round him wreathing,
Their breathing mingled with his breathing.
If—if he stood! Enough of ifs!
He knew a path that wanted walking;
He knew a spring that wanted drinking;
A thought that wanted further thinking;
A love that wanted re-renewing.
Nor was this just a way of talking
To save him the expense of doing.
With him it boded action, deed.

The factory was very fine;
He wished it all the modern speed.
Yet, after all, ‘twas not divine,
That is to say, ‘twas not a church.
He never would assume that he’d
Be any institution’s need.
But he said then and still would say,
If there should ever come a day
When industry seemed like to die
Because he left it in the lurch,
Or even merely seemed to pine
For want of his approval, why,
Come get him—they knew where to search.

The full article on the Nature News web site is here.

This post really was sent in by Booman!