by Mike Cunningham

Mudfest 2004The Run to Wakely Dam aka Damn Wakely Dam July 24, 2004 MC

Frank Dolen & I had run this race the previous two years.  One thing about running ultras is that they don't make you any smarter.    

The race starts in the little village of Piseco, New York at some ungodly time in the morning.  To get there we camp out near the finish and meet a bus at 4:30 AM.  The bus ride is about an hour and a half to the start.  We could camp out nearer the start bunking one car at the finish then driving back to the start when we finished.  That would be the smart thing to do.  We didn't do that. Actually the smart thing would have been to stay home.  We didn't do that either.

Once again I couldn't get the entire day off, so I had to rush through my work to get it done in time to leave by noon.  Then I had to rush home, throw what wasn't already packed into my car, get Jo-Anna's stuff in there too and take off.  Meanwhile Frank had gone up the day before, hopefully to secure a good campsite.  Last year we had had to camp out 5 miles from the place where we were supposed to meet the bus.  Last year the bus never came.  This year it did. 

A cold front was coming through and it poured.  Driving up the Taconic State Parkway in a pouring rain is not fun.  Eventually it dried out a bit.  The sun even came out. 

We were supposed to meet my sister-in-law at Exit 23 off the Northway at 4:30 PM.  We made it at4:35.  She was waiting for us.  Since the Ironman would be run in Lake Placid on Sunday traffic through LP would be difficult.  She wanted to try going the other way so would follow me to Indian Lake.  We would meet there again on Sunday and agreed on a time.

The drive from Warrensburg to Indian Lake is really very nice.  You drive past the Hudson River, which up there looks like an actual river not an estuary.  You also drive past about a dozen rafting companies and Gore Mountain.  We got to Indian Lake and decided exactly where we would meet.

Then begins the long drive to Wakely Dam.  Two miles past Indian Lake where there are both a cemetery and a golf course you turn onto Cedar River Road.  This road is paved for a while, then becomes not paved.  It is 12 miles to the dam.  The speed limit becomes 15 miles per hour.  It is an effort to drive that fast.  It takes almost half an hour to drive that 12 miles. 

I got to the dam area and drove past a few sites and saw Frank.  This was great.  He had gotten a good site and I had found him! Not only that, but he had gotten my tent set up.  Since Frank would be camping out in his car, I had given him my tent, so that he could use it to establish that we laid claim to the site. 

I unpacked my stuff, wandered off to say hello to the race director, then wandered back and made dinner, washed my dishes, and got ready for bed.  I read for a while.  Normally I read something a bit more exciting, but I didn't want anything that would keep me up.  I read a short story by Nathaniel Hawthorne, written over 100 years ago.  I didn't finish it and would reread it on Sunday. Sleeping the first night out camping is never easy for me.  Doing it the night before a big race makes it that much more difficult.  Still I did get some sleep. 

The alarm went off at 3:30 AM.  I got dressed.  Since the temperature was in the 40s, I did this inside my sleeping bag.  This takes a while.  I crawled out and made breakfast: Instant Tang, Instant Coffee, and Instant Oatmeal.  This took more than an instant.  I grabbed my pack and, with Frank, wandered over to the bus.  We checked in and got our numbers.  Once again Jim gave us our ages as our race numbers.  We joked that it was our I Qs.  We took seats in the back of the bus.  Someone passed around a box of cookies.  Someone brought a box of donuts and passed them around. Someone else asked if they were "low carb".   Obviously ultra-runner humor at 4:45 AM is less than bright & witty. 

We eventually got to the start.  Someday I would like to go to Piseco when I am actually awake.  I understand that there is a nice lake there.  We may have passed it but I don't recall seeing it. Frank & I started soon after we got off the bus.  The official race start was about 15 minutes later, but if we waited that long (in the cold-although it had warmed up to about 50), we might chicken out. 

Frank had trained well and ran a 50 k two weeks before.  I had trained by running long runs of 2,3, and 4 hours and long hikes of 3 ½  hours and an overnight with a backpack. .  And we were off. The first two or three miles of this course are absolutely great for running.  Nice solid footing, very even, it is an old logging road.  Then you cross a small stream, then you cross a larger one. Then you cross a mud hole, then you wade through a mud hole, then you climb through a boulder field.

After a while the five race leaders passed us.  After another while some more people passed us. Then some more.  Then lots more.  Then Jim, the race director, passed us.  Then we passed a young lady who we had passed before.  She had gotten a blister and was fixing her foot.  After a while she passed us again. 

Then we got to the first lake, which is about the 9-mile mark.  Altogether there are about five lakes.  These we go around following the trail.  There are stream crossings, too many to count.  Some are crossed on logs, some on bridges, some are crossed on rocks and some are just crossed.  There’re not too many open areas.  Obviously there had been a lot of rain because areas that were dry last year were seas of mud.  We hadn't even gotten to the relocation around a beaver flooded area, which we fondly looked forward to as "that damned relo. " We went through wet mud and dry mud.  We went through sticky mud and slimy mud.  We went through shoe sucking mud.  We went through more kinds of mud than I knew existed.  I no longer tried to avoid the mud.  Frank still tried to cross on rocks and stuff.  I just went right through it.  I went right through the streams to wash the mud off and 5 steps later I went through more mud. 

When we got to the relo, I was actually somewhat disappointed.  It wasn't as bad as it had been last year or even the first year.  Obviously my brain was fried by this time.  We passed through there without losing any shoes.

The mud slowed us down considerably.  The blowdowns slowed us down even more.  I found a downed tree and broke off a limb to use for support.  This helped in crossing the streams and the mud. Eventually Scott, the sweep, caught up with us.  He had a dog named Sierra and had done some running/hiking in Colorado.  Eventually he saw that we were doing okay and needed no help (at least not physical help) so he went ahead of us.  We later learned that he caught up to someone who had injured his ankle and finished with him about 10 minutes before we finished.

This is the third time that we have done this course.  Officially the course is 32. 6 miles.  The relo adds some distance, but who knows how much.  I consider that it is 33 1/3 miles and that running it this third time makes it an even 100.  It is not all smooth running.  Last year had been the 80th anniversary of the trail.  The Adirondack Mountain Club made a special effort to clear the blowdowns, trim the bushes, and post the blazes.  This year that didn't happen. 

There are several long hills and much difficult trail, yet this is a beautiful course through some of the wildest country in the Adirondacks.  Most of the time you are at least six miles from the nearest road.  Often that nearest road is only a woods road and civilization is another five or more miles along that.  This is the serious boonies. 

Due to the receding of the last glacier and the consequent rebounding of the earth the hills get steeper every year.  You won't find this in any geology texts, but it is a well known fact among aging trail runners.

Back in camp we had goldfinches, cedar waxwings, and little brown twits.  Out on the course we heard loons twice and a white throated sparrow once.  I also heard something large rustling around in the bushes at one point, but because we were moving as quickly as we could already and it seemed inclined to stay there I saw no point in alarming Frank.  We did hear something very strange, but it turned out to be the ranger hauling his canoe up onto the rocks on the shore.  We exchanged greetings and except for him and our fellow racers we saw only two other people out on the trail.

Frank led for most of the course.  This let him set the pace, but until the front runners caught up with us, he also was the first one through the spider webs.  Eventually they made new webs after the other runners had been by and Frank got those too.  We talked intermittently.  I'd like to say that we kept up a running dialogue but that would be too punny for words.  At one point after some 8 or9 hours with the end still a very long way away, Frank turned around and asked me effectively what I was doing out there.  I took this as a philosophical question and told him that I was doing what I love to do.