The Big Horn 100

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After a leisurely breakfast it was an unusual treat to head to the start of the Big Horn 100 a little after 8 am. The pre-race briefing at the finish area at Scot Park, Dayton, was shorter than many other races of this kind with the exception of the Bear 100 which I recall lasted no more than about 8 minutes! The usual warnings were given about eating and drinking during the race plus warning about the range of weather conditions in the mountains that we could expect plus details on the snow depth near the turnaround point. Snow depth? In fact, because the usual course in this area still had drifts that would have been above the waist of many runners, a detour had been put in place. Out of the shade the sun felt hot and heavy and we smothered ourselves in sun cream struggling to comprehend that further up the trail temperatures touching freezing were in our future.

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From the finish line we moved 4 miles up the Big Horn River canyon to the start. Hemmed between the high canyons walls, the intensity of the sun became more pronounced and many of the assembled runners sought out the little shade that was available. After spending the previous 2 days checking out different sections of the course and appreciating a little more the remote terrain between the aid stations I elected to switch from my usual bottles to a hydration pack. I picked up a Gregory Rofous pack in a local store, it has two generous pockets on the waist band and comfortably hugs your back with no movement. I planned to wear it through Friday and switch back to bottles for the last 13 miles back down BH canyon, but it worked so well that I didn’t bother to change.

The race began with the usual prayer and national anthem before we headed up the canyon on a dusty dirt road for about 1 mile, then we got onto the single track path that we had explored a few days earlier. Soon we began to climb beyond the point that Guthrie had reached before and the gradient got gradually steeper. As the canyon opened out the heat from the sun cooled as a breeze picked up, although the rays still made your skin feel tight. From the low confines of the canyon, the landscape opened to rolling grasslands filled with yellow and blue wildflowers. As we continued to gain height I pulled up my Moben sleeves and focused on eating and drinking. The drink of choice from the race was Heed, after struggling with it in the past I have been using it a lot lately which meant I didn’t have to be so dependent on Guthrie to keep me supplied. This was a good thing as despite the race distance she was only going to get to see me just three times out on the course with the exception of the finish. The first was at mile 13, the Dry Fork Aid Station which was located on a high open hill side completely exposed to the elements, while the next was at the turn around otherwise known as Porcupine Ranger Station and finally back at Dry Fork. Earlier during the week we had checked out another potential crew access point called Footbridge but the drive to it took two and a half hours from Dayton and nearly four hours from Dry Fork in the opposite direction by road to Porcupine. Had she attempted to go there during the race it was highly likely she would miss me despite the many hours driving so we decided she would skip it. Therefore, I was going to need a drop bag to hold warm clothing for the climb up to Porcupine during the night.

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The run to Dry Fork, just 13 miles in took 3 hours. From here the course continued to gradually gain elevation across more flower filled plains occasionally broken by pockets of sage brush and trees. The trail was barely wide enough to place your feet side by side and where it was edged by scrub the vegetation scratched your ankles as you passed. Wider sections of the trail had clearly been used by ATVs and the deep ruts eroded by rain made steady running taxing. Nestled in the Big Horn River canyon, the descent to Footbridge was the steepest gradient on the course, but with relatively fresh legs is wasn’t hard to make good time. However, on the way down a lot more surface water was evident. It was an ominous omen of what was to come. Steep canyon walls started to tower over the trail once more and the cool of the late afternoon started to become more noticeable. At the aid station I changed into a thermal top, packed a windbreaker, buff and gloves and headed out. Despite being a ‘major aid station’ they didn’t have traditional fare like PB&J so I had to make do with several chucks of potato to munch as I headed out.

About 30 minutes later I was following a runner as we approached a fast flowing creek that was washing across the trail. On the left was a tree that was also acting as a barrier to a drop of about 12 feet. The other runner jumper onto the tree and used it as a bridge to avoid the fast flowing icy water. I started to follow, but the prospect of tripping to the right into to the strong current or falling to the left over the edge of the drop suddenly caused me to hesitate. My foot caught a branch knot and my right calf threatened to cramp. I decide the risk of negotiating the hazard for the sake of keeping my feet dry wasn’t worth it. I stepped back, tripped and only just managed to stay upright ask I landed in the water just short of the bank. The water was clearly snow melt! I waded across the creek hoping that my feet wouldn’t trip on an unseen rock beneath the surface. My left heel had developed a hot spot before Dry Fork and the wet now brought it into renewed focus. I cursed the wet but my frustration was short lived. Further up the trail became wetter and wetter and attempting to dodge the water was difficult because of the mud. Before long the wet trail became an expanse of bog and there nothing to do except just trudge through ignoring the freezing water. This continued for several miles. I resisted the thought to stop and put on the gloves and jacket in my pack preferring to press on.

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On the trail Porcupine we had been briefed to lookout for Leaky Mountain, so named because of many springs that can be seen gushing water from its side. I was hoping to make Porcupine before dark and in doing so be able to take in this sight. My wish was granted. Up ahead the peaks appeared to be snow clad and I wondered where to trail was going to take us. The temperature was definitely dropping as the first signs of snow came into view. With the melting snow came mud; thick, slippery, sticky stuff that did nothing except to slow progress. A few of the drifts were still knee deep and if you tried to follow an un-trod path you would fall through the ice crust which was sharp enough to scratch skin.

By the time I next saw Guth, I was pretty cold and looking forward to prospect of some warm broth at the aid station. She was able to meet me about a mile from the Ranger Station and we ran in together. Once there I put on warmer layers had some soup and grabbed a fresh PB&J in a baggie and headed back out into the dark that had now descended. After the warm aid stop, the cold and prospect of another fifty miles was nothing short of sobering! Thankfully, the sensation of cold didn’t become unmanageable and the best thing to do was just to keep going. At each aid station you would see yet another runner who had called it a day, rather than lower my spirits, the sight of their situation spurned me to keep going. By the time I returned to Dry Fork dawn was just beginning to appear.

Once again the options for food seemed limited and I set out with just a few pieces of potato and a fresh supply of Heed. At the aid station I came across 2 other runners who had pulled away on the ascent to Porcupine. I was surprised to find them still at the stop but realized that they were not having a good time. I proceeded to get out quickly and make good progress up the canyon. To begin I powered up the trial with a steady, methodic stride but about two thirds up hit a wall and started to imagine buildings jutting out from the cliff on the opposite canyon wall. Beneath my feet the trail slipped in and out of focus and voices in my head kept suggesting that a nap would feel really nice right now. I sucked down my last remaining Hammer Gels but after about 30 minutes my hazy state of mind returned. I had no alternative except sip Heed which now tasted cold and unpleasant and keep going. I think I passed 2 more stations before Cow Camp where the smell of cooked breakfast greeted me. I stocked up with soda, filled a bag with PB&J and grabbed a fried egg wrapped in bread for the road. That egg tasted like the finest food on the planet! Six miles away high on the horizon was Dry Fork, the distance could not pass quick enough but there was nothing else to do except focus on the ground ahead and keep going.

At Dry Fork my weigh-in showed I had gained a couple of pounds which was an indication of fluid retention from lack of food. I filled another baggie and gladly accepted a wrap filled with cheese and avocado for the last major leg – the final 18 miles. As I left runners gathered for the start of the 30k race applauded and shouted encouragement. I would have preferred to have walked out of the aid station eating food but vanity compelled me to run hoping that the stuffing didn’t slip out from the wrap. As the cheers faded I slowed to a walk and concentrated back on the food. A few minutes later, runner started to flash past. The Big Horn event hosts 30k, 50k, and 50 mile races and in the final miles the color of each passing runners bib became important.

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By now the sun was once more high in the sky, runners from the 30k race streamed by with words of encouragement. When we hit a steep incline I started to overtake some of these runners who were breathing heavily. One of two looked decidedly frustrated at the prospect of someone who had already covered around 80 miles overtake, but if they were irritated it soon passed as we descended into the Tongue River Canyon. The canyon walls gradually closed in and the heat increased, we were on the last leg to the finish. The trail along the river seemed to go on forever, with bend in the path came a hope to see the trailhead thwarted by sight of just more trail. Eventually though like most things on the trail, it was temporary and the final 5 miles of dirt road were before us. For me running with blisters was become difficult so I alternated between short bursts of running and power walking. Guthrie came out to meet me and we fell into step together. The road went on, around the next bend and still continued. Another bend and still more road. The heat felt more oppressive, more runners passed, thankfully not participants in the 100. At last the bridge across the Tongue River was in sight; over the bridge, across the road, down the entrance road into the park and the finish was in sight. I had conquered the Big Horn.

Organization of the event was well done, the finish was a large picnic for finishers of the all the races as participants came in and were joined by family and friends. My initial finisher award was a fleece ground sheet which we laid in the shade to sit on while we ate food and downed recovery drink. Later it started to rain and we headed off back to Sheridan to check back in to a hotel for showers and bed rest.

Sunday morning, we headed into the center of downtown Sheridan for the awards ceremony and pancake breakfast. An entire plaza was turned into a huge field kitchen knocking out fresh made pancakes, ham, juice and coffee. All 100 mile finishers within the 34 hour cut off received a buckle and embroidered light weight wind breaker. For placing in my age group (3rd) I also received a piece of Big Horn rock – it will be fun explaining to TSA on the way home how I acquired it! As we rested through Sunday afternoon there were constant weather warnings of severe thunderstorms and tornados. At about 5 pm the skies over Sheridan darkened briefly as a storm passed overhead. We later learned that the town of Billings 120 miles to the north was hit by a tornado with reports suggesting about $15 million worth of damage had occurred. What a different race it would have been if the storm had arrived 24 hours earlier!

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Race results