Stone Washed Blues

Editor’s note: ALL names have been changed, including the author’s, so that the guilty parties might avoid ridicule, as well as the risk of fellow Bimblers standing WAY far away from them at gatherings, and never looking ANY of the three in the eye again. Trust me 🙂 Oh, by the way, the fourth Bimbler, the one with four legs, was, and is, utterly innocent.

Could it have been any worse?

One Bimbler, let’s call him Higby, was coming off of a very difficult, hard run 50K race. Another, let’s call him Matt, had been ill for some time, but felt compelled to “ramp up” quickly to get ready for an extended trip and an upcoming 100 Miler. The third Bimbler, let’s call her Late, is fortunately very comfortable running in the dark, but her mileage had not been very high very recently.

Could it have been any worse?

So, I, Higby, took to heart the advice of a very accomplished and very much younger ultramarathoner who observed “50Ks are GREAT: you don’t have to taper, and you don’t have to recover”. Uh-huh. OK then. So, I was totally justified running 21 miles 2 days before this run and 5 days after my 50K, right? Matt prepped for the run by stressing all week whether he could even do the run, despite it being HIS idea. Late got ready by expressing concerns as to whether she was ready or not.

Could it have been any worse?

With only about 24 hours advance warning, maybe a little less, the “plan” came together, and we committed. Some would suggest we should have “been committed”. Whatever! By this time, a virtual “storm of the century” was forecast, with 50+ MPH winds, flooding rains, falling trees, loss of electricity, etc… Certainly no reason to change plans. Still, Late had concerns she wouldn’t keep up with Matt and Higby, so I came up with an “extra” part of the plan. I would run hard with Matt in the AM and “wear him down” so that he would run slower Saturday evening. It worked, sort of, kinda, a little bit. There were a few flaws in that part of the plan. Firstly, Matt is FAR more capable of wearing down Higby than vice-versa, and I, Higby, messed it up further by running several miles with Ultra and Downhill before Matt showed up Saturday morning.

Could it have been any worse?

And so it came to pass that Matt’s vehicle was positioned at the parking lot at the northern end of the Mattabessett Trail, with the three (plus one) Bimblers involved in this attempted crime against Mother Nature positioned at the Rte 66 hikers’ parking lot, at 5PM. The rain, wind, and cold showed no sign of abating. Which is appopriate, because they never did abate.

The first several minutes were spent on fairly flat, exceedingly wet trail while we tried to warm up. This was the same trail we covered in the February Full Moon run with howling winds, wet feet, pelting precipitation… Hey, wait a minute, is this a re-run? No, because that run was in a blizzard, while this one appeared to be during a hurricane. Another obvious difference was a change in participants. Of particular note was the lack of any CrossFitters. Hey, are those guys doing MENTAL exercises, and getting all SMART on me? Soon enough, we summitted Mt. Higby, NOT enjoying the views, nor the howling winds, nor the stinging raindrops, nor the ankle deep water. In no time, we were on trail known (supposedly) only to Late, as Matt had been on none of this section, and I, Higby, had never ventured north of, well, Mt. Higby (clever, huh?).

Could it have been any worse?

We finally plunged (yes, that word implies “wet”) down the eastern slopes into the woods, somewhat spared from the wind, but not the water and mud and cold, nor the rapidly descending darkness. Fortunately BOTH of the Bimblers who left home without headlamps cleverly adjusted, realizing that a very difficult 1/2 marathon distance trail run that starts at 5PM in a storm before Daylight Savings Time MIGHT not be done by dark. So, we were all “illuminated”, though you might not call us “bright”. We then came to the first of 2, NOT 3, advertised road sections. The wind and rain were much worse, but at least we could move at a better pace. We ran past State Police HQ, where we were NOT arrested for any number of things, since they knew we would get off by pleading insanity anyway. After a several mile run on the road, we turned left into a soft, quiet pine orchard. I suspect a resorvoir was nearby. That would explain the small canal we had to ford.

Could it have been any worse?

Much of the trip grows fuzzy to me now. Most of it was fuzzy while I was running it. We knew we had 3 major peaks to ascend, and we were sure we had finished 1, and hoping we had finished 2. After much up and down, very rocky footing of the classic CT traprock variety, and many plunges into DEEP water (no snorkels required), we came out under a dam. Now, apparently, under normal conditions, no water spills over the top, so the trail just passes under the dam with no need for a bridge. Enough said.

Could it have been any worse?

After crossing under the dam, Late saw a road, and suggested we were, pretty much, at the end, we just needed to go a little to the LEFT. While that happy news would normally, despite my fatigued state, have ellicited a “WooHoo!”, the Blue Blazes trailing off into the woods to the RIGHT gave me cause to pause. And so we went, along an easy flat path, sadly exposed to the winds, back, away from the road. Shortly thereafter, the trail veered right onto single-track, with a little sign indicating we were approaching the climb to peak #2!!!!!!

Could it have been any worse?

Up on the ridge again, despite the rain, the views were spectacular. By CT standards, this was virtually a knife edge kind of ridge, with unfettered vistas (save the rain) to the left and right. The sensation was that of running down a narrow peninsula, in a sea of mist. The trail was annoyingly “serpentine”, sometimes worrying me that we had somehow gotten ourselves turned around and were headed back south. We eventually reached the end of the “peninsula”, and plunged off the end, down a ridiculously steep descent. And on, and on, and on we went.

Could it have been any worse?

The 3rd peak, while challenging was definitive, and guaranteed (?) to be the last one. I for one, was running low on calories, slightly dehydrated, and had stopped making sense (OK, maybe that was a few hours earlier). Matt was getting hungry, his accelerating pace a dead giveaway. I would frequently call out “got blue?”, as he sometimes seemed more interested in maintaining forward progress than in finding the trail. Late was behind me, I think just making sure I didn’t curl up in the various little caves along the way. The wind was howling, but the “silence” among us was deafening. We were, unquestionably, in “get it done” mode. There would be no joy in this particular Mudville tonight.

Could it have been any worse?

Achieving the top of the 3rd peak, Lamentation Mountain (how fitting), we lost the trail. REALLY lost the trail. We fumbled around a long time, growing slower and colder. Apparently there had been a re-route (cue scary music) and some of the “abandoned” trail had not been “erased”. Eventually, we gained confidence that we were on the right path, and went downhill quickly. We wound up, from time to time, on an old woods road that was VERY deep with rapidly flowing water.

Could it have been any worse?

Matt, with I, Higby, and Late not too far behind, spotted street lights and was gone like a shot. We trudged, waded, and dog-paddled our way through the deep water, knowing that where there are street lights, there are streets, and that at the intersection of the Blue Trail, and the VERY NEXT STREET, Matt’s vehicle would be waiting. In the distance, I could see Matt had reached the road, and over the din of my splashing and the howling winds and cracking tree branches, I could hear an endless string of vile epithets being spewed by Matt. Reaching the road, we understood why: No vehicle, no parking lot! Where the heck were we? Fortunately, Late’s superior sense of direction guided us through several turns along busy and quiet streets and led us to the vehicle. I have NO idea how she did it.

So, 4 hours after we started, we covered our 13 miles. Later, eating dinner a little while before everybody was “springing forward”, Matt got fairly hysterical at the waitperson’s complaint about how she had to run out to her car in the parking lot, in the middle of such a frightful storm, to retrieve something she forgot. For Late and I, this marks our completion of the Mattabessett Trail. Matt (yeah, that is where the name comes from), has a few miles left to cover. I got home in time to watch the power go out at my house, and it stayed out for about 18 hours.

Could it have been any worse?

Yes, we could have all stayed at home, warm and dry.

The “take away” quote from the run: “It sure sounds pretty around here”.