2018 U.S. Snowshoe Nationals

By mid-to-late February of this year, you'd be forgiven for thinking that winter was long gone and spring was just around the corner here in west-central New England. On one particularly toasty day I think I was sweating up a storm in shorts and t-shirt on a run with temps in the high 60s. Snow was long gone, and most of the last few scheduled snowshoe races morphed into regular trail races out of necessity. You'd be right if you guessed that most of us outdoorsy types enjoyed the oasis of warmth, even if we still gazed longingly over at our running snowshoes and cross-country skis. You'd still have been wrong about winter though; it definitely wasn't done yet.

Strong storms in early March dumped tons of snow in the highlands of the Berkshires and Green Mountains, with some areas getting several feet in a single day. Just in time for the 2018 U.S. Snowshoe Nationals races at Prospect Mountain Ski Area in Woodford, VT, just east of and up the hill from the town of Bennington in the southwest part of the state. The event weekend took place March 10-11, 2018. I had photographed at the event when it was held there in 2014 (see my snowshoe racing blog post from that era), and was fortunate enough to get to shoot there again this time around.

A racer summits the mountain in the Women's 10K championship race. 

Here is a representative sampling of the various races that took places over the weekend, including a Citizen's Race 5K, a kids race, the mens and women's 10K championship races, and a trail marathon and half-marathon (all photos copyright Ben Kimball Photography):

Start of the 2018 Women's 10K championship race. 

 

Elena Betke-Brunswick (left) with Laure and Tom Van den Broeck Raffensperger,
all from the happy Pioneer Valley of Western Massachusetts.

Bob Dion (left), founder and owner of Dion Snowshoes and sponsor of the event, with two strong guys from South America (who had never run in a snowshoe race before!).

Cleaning Trail

In northwestern Massachusetts, the mostly singletrack Mahican - Mohawk Trail runs like a broken necklace from Deerfield to North Adams. I say "broken" for three reasons. Partly because there are missing sections, such as between Shelburne Falls and Mohawk Trail State Forest; partly because there are two newly closed sections in Conway and Shelburne (one due to washouts south of Bardwell's Ferry and one due to a landowner's reluctance to allow people to cross his property); and partly due to general decay of the trail's infrastructure.

I included the eastern part of the trail as a profiled site (#27) in my guidebook Trail Running Western Massachusetts. Since publication of that book the washout closure happened and the lack of general maintenance has seemed more and more evident to me. The big fiberglass bridge over the Cold River at Polly's Crossing is still safe and spectacular, but the descent to the bridge from the southern side is heavily eroded and could probably use some new switchbacking work. And in various places along the trail, small wooden bridges and log stair steps have rotted to the point where they may be unsafe to use (be careful if you do).

Furthermore, there seems to be a tendency along the section south of Polly's Crossing to collect leaves. A LOT of leaves. They accumulate along the trail in tremendous volume and perhaps because of the north-facing aspect of the slope above the Deerfield River they don't seem to rot away during the course of the summer. As a result, the trail becomes ever-more obscured year after year and it can be hard to tell where it is sometimes, even with the white blazes on the trees. Also, the impressive depth of leaves covers the log stairs and over time causes them to rot away prematurely.

As a result, this section of trail doesn't seem to get a lot of use, and it's hard to blame people for staying away. And I think that's a shame. People generally really like long-distance trails like the AT, the NET, the Long Trail, the Windmill Ridge Trail(s) in southeastern Vermont, and the Mid-State Trail, etc. In time, the Mahican-Mohawk Trail seems like it could be as popular as those other ones, and also be one of the few east-west routes in the region. If enough people discover it and talk about it, the appeal could catch on. But at the moment the trajectory seems to be heading in the other direction.

Which is a very long preamble to me saying that I recently went out and cleaned up this section of trail a little bit. I raked some of the parts where the trail was entirely obscured, cleaned all the leaves out of the rotting log stairs, and moved countless blowdowns that were lying across the trail. Much more could be done, like edging the upslope side of the trail with digging tools, creating new switchbacks on the steepest sections, replacing the rotted log stairs, trimming back branches growing into the path, and cutting through or moving the larger blowdowns, but at least this feels like a start.

I've since gone back and run the section between Deerfield and Conway, and I have to say it was pretty fun. I've contacted the Deerfield River Watershed Association about future volunteer maintenance opportunities and hope that more people discover this hidden gem. Who's with me?

For more info about the Mahican - Mohawk Trail, check out this page on the MA DCR website. 

The November Challenge (or, The Audacity of Leaves)

Since my birthday falls in early November, I probably like the much-maligned month more than most. A child’s happy memories of coming downstairs and seeing what is obviously a Star Wars action figure (“I hope it’s a new stormtrooper!”) wrapped in last weekend’s Sunday funnies (way back when Garfield was still funny) sitting on the coffee table… those can last a lifetime; thanks, Mom! The daylight savings time change seems to affect others more than me; just plop a headlamp on me and I’m good to go. No SAD issues for me, thankfully. And I don’t even mind the gray. Or grey? Or brown, or whatever color November actually is. But one thing does frequently hassle me on my early November runs: downed leaves.

an actually not-too-bad section of leaf-covered trail

Whether you’re running on narrow trails or old woods roads, a coating of dead leaves can make things difficult. On twisty mountain-bike singletrack, like the kind you find at Earl’s Trails in Hadley or the Saw Mill Hills conservation area in Northampton, the route can be completely obscured, and important trail junctions rendered invisible. This year I tried navigating the maze of faint paths just east of Fitzgerald Lake after leaf-fall, and even though I had a good map and knew the way I still found myself missing turns and bushwhacking by mistake. At times like that I stop to silently thank the oft-unappreciated ranks of Those Who Rake.

On the other end of the spectrum, wide open routes like the “carriage trails” at Northfield Mountain feature their own autumnal challenges. You can always find your way, but with a lot of leaves covering the surface you can still manage to somehow go astray. The likelihood of turning an ankle on uneven ground increases a lot, and the possibility of kicking a buried branch or protruding rock becomes a real threat. 

And what happens if you just add water? Oh, that’s a special treat. Wet leaves are slippery anytime, but just wait’ll you try to run across some on a slanted ledge in the woods. Whooooops!!! Ouch. The D.O.C., M-M, and Teabag Trails on Mt. Tom have a couple of spots where that’s a real concern. Wet leaves also make you slide backwards on uphills and can cause you to slip to your doom on steep downhills. 

Naturally, there ARE some upsides as well. The leafless trees let in more light, so it takes darkness longer to really set in, which is a nice (if somewhat slight) offset to a shorter day length. The decomposed foliage on the ground will eventually make new soil to replenish the ever-eroding trail’s treadway. And often the less-than-ideal conditions will drive fair-weather runners back to roads or onto treadmills, so you’ve got those sweet forest miles all to yourself for a change. 

Also, let’s be honest here, aren’t those leaves better off rotting away in the woods than filling up your yard? Plus, no matter how tough the leaves can make fall trail running, the snow won’t be too far off, and you know what that means… snowshoe racing season’s coming soon!!

Ben is the editor of The Sugarloaf Sun newsletter and author of the guidebook Trail Running Western Massachusetts. 

Bear Hole Run for the Trails 10K

The first annual running of the Bear Hole Run for the Trails 5K and 10K trail race took place on 11/4/17 in West Springfield, MA. The race, intended to benefit the trails of the Bear Hole watershed (the area south and west of Ashley Reservoir in Holyoke), drew a small but energetic field of zany knuckleheads, including me. The weather was perfect (cool, sunny, and dry), though the sun dapple was blinding at times (wearing a cap with a visor that I could adjust definitely helped), and the downed leaves hid some of the rockier and rootier portions of the singletrack, especially along the NET on East Mountain.

Gareth Buckley of South Hadley won by a longshot in 45:44 (he must have had leaf-ray vision). I managed to snag third place, in 54:04, but only because the guy who’d been in second place and the lead woman for most of the race both took a wrong turn at a particularly tricky junction on a short but steep incline in the woods near mile 5. For an easy cool-down, local trail runner friend Wayne Stocker led me, John Torrone, and Wayne Ball to an incredibly scenic waterfall (it’s totally worth seeking out sometime) and the rather depressing old cage where the former owner used to keep a bear.

The Spooky Issue

I think this might be my favorite issue yet...

http://sugarloafmountainathletic.org/smacwp/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/SMAC_Sun_2017_issue6_NovDec.pdf

Fear the Running Dread

Bear with me. This does relate to running, I promise.

I love scary movies. I have watched a LOT of them, and I really enjoy it when a group of clever movie-makers can craft something that simulates a nightmare. Creating sensations that really make you feel alive. On a primal level, a good scare can be almost as enjoyable as a good laugh. Horror and comedy are strangely related. So, yeah, I love scary movies. But not all of them; there’s a pecking order. Let me explain. 

Zombies leave me cold (there is nothing frightening about slow, mindless idiots, unless… well, never mind); I’ve stared numbly through several George Romero films. Classic possessions generally bore me (I’m not Catholic, so…); after watching The Exorcist late one night as a teenager, I complained to my friends, “seriously? That’s what some people say is the scariest movie ever?” And various other monsters often just seem silly; I’m lookin’ at you, most giant animal movies. Oh, and cursed objects? Yawwwwn. 

But faint bumps in the night (what was that?), subtle tricks of the eye (did I just see…?), and body horror (how could one go on without that limb, etc.) terrify me terribly. Paranormal Activity, Halloween, and The Thing all fit the bill here. I’ve also found genuine frights in some creature features, like Jaws, Cloverfield, The Descent, and Alien, etc. Being eaten sucks! Your basic deranged maniacs even have an element of fearsomeness sometimes, because hey it could happen; thus the occasional slasher movie fright (also, actor/writer Gunnar Hansen who played the chainsaw-wielding Leatherface was my neighbor growing up, so there’s that). I enjoy those flicks so much, for their ability to create and sustain intense suspense and/or brief moments of pure terror.

So what does any of this have to do with running? Well, for one thing being on a run isn’t always that different from watching a movie. There’s a distinct beginning and a definite end, with some kind of progressively unfolding story in between. And much of what you get or take away from it is up to you. Each run is like a little movie we create for ourselves, and the movies aren’t always lighthearted comedies. As for running scared in general, we’ve all been there on some level. How many times have you been spooked on a run, either by an animal or a loud truck? Or by fading daylight, or a suspicious stranger, or even just the thoughts in your head? 

As a regular trail runner, I frequently find myself alone in the woods; for the most part I’m very comfortable there. Sure there are a few things to be wary of here in the Northeast. Bears with cubs. Moose in rut. Evil spiders (bulbous or hairy ones with striped legs are the MOST evil). But most of the animal scares I get are from squirrels that sound as loud as a pack of Brontosaurus in the underbrush. Sometimes I get wigged out by the potential threat of encountering someone sketchy out there. Most of the time though, the thing that gives me shivers is the notion that I could somehow lose a body part that I can’t grow back (why are there so many sharp dead branches sticking out exactly at my eye level on this trail??). Dismemberment. Oh please let me never need to refer to part of myself as severed, gouged-out, or sliced off. 

Usually the fear is pretty far from my mind. There’s a lot to think about on a run. Like where you are, where you’re going, why that conversation at work got you so worked up today. But sometimes it creeps in. The insidious infiltration of fear. I call it The Running Dread. 

As with movies, not all running dread is equal. Sometimes it’s pretty benign and you mostly forget about it and move on before too long. Other times it comes and goes, like a fleeting flash of an unexpected figure out of the corner of your eye. And still other times it takes hold and paralyzes part of your brain, more or less wiping out your capacity for rational thought. That last one can really ruin a run! But it can also serve to force a speed workout, so hey, it’s not all bad. Fortunately, the fear always seems to go away when the movie or run ends. Or… does it.

I don’t necessarily fear the running dread. I know it’s going to be a part of my life sometimes, and it’s best to just recognize that and accept it. Maybe write about it and share the notion with others. Hope that I’m not totally alone here and at least a few people get what I’m talking about. You know? Right? Guys? Hello…? Is anyone there? 

recovery day

Everyone should be so lucky to get a recovery day as sweet as this one. Despite Trump's best efforts to gross it all up with a misogynistic and juvenile-no-matter-how-you-look-at-it re-tweet of the golf ball "joke" video ("SO presidential"), Jen and I had a really good day.

I slept late after a night that thankfully didn't include any witching-hour post-marathon charleyhorses, enjoyed my coffee and late-morning Fareed Zakaria political analysis on TV, and wrote a short article on the couch with the cat at my side. Then I joined Jen outside for some watering of the garden and lawn, and realized just how hot and humid it still was out. After abandoning us for a bit around Labor Day, summer came back to play the past few days. We decided to head up into the hills for some chill beach time at Pelham Lake in Rowe, followed by some easy and very slow walking along the lower trails of the Pelham Hills network. The weather was absolutely gorgeous and we capped it all off with an especially fine evening of dinner and drinks at the West End Pub in Shelburne Falls. THIS is how late summer in New England should always feel.

The trails at this site are featured in site #7 of my guidebook Trail Running Western Massachusetts

sylvan swamp off to the side of a very cool esker on the Meadow Trail

beach girl

me in my element

2 miles of super-scenic easy walking

Beach Trail

Beach Trail bridge; this trail network is really something

L: jct of the Babbling Brook Trail and Meadow Trail, up on an esker between two ferny forested swamps

R: testing the filter.

Babbling Brook Trail

Babbling Brook Trail

botany girl

bogwalks

a particularly good night at the West End Pub