Missoula to Elk Summit Shit Show is a very misleading label for a ultra endurance event. It starts out self explanatory but ends in a way that gives one a feeling that this is an unusually messy event. I just did the M.E.S.S.S. and it was not messy but now understand the “shit show” part. The “shit show” is the production going on inside the body after a 40(ish) mile road bike ride over Lolo Pass, a 25(ish) back wood road climb to Elk Summit, and then a 25 mile wilderness run back to Montana and eventually Blodgett Canyon in Hamilton. The body goes to shit shortly after the 5,000 feet of climbing on the bike and 10 miles into the “run” which in my case turned into a “crawl”. 100 miles of sweet misery is what it should be called.
My alarm clock rang at 3 in the morning and I sat up in bed trying to figure out why I had set the alarm to an hour and a half before I was to be at the start of the event. I searched my mind and found nothing. I was dead tired from staying up until midnight packing what I need to support myself for the days ultra. By 4:25 I was riding around Missoula’s traffic circles all alone with a huge back pack full of the days essentials. No cars to deal with and the streets were deserted. I arrived just as Matt was walking to Josh’s front door.
There were 3 100 mile starters. Dave, Matt, and I started out around 4:45 a.m. and cruised out of town on streets that normally were crowded. It was early and we were the only lights heading out towards Lolo on what I call Montana’s version of the Merritt Parkway. Alden was along for the bike leg only.
At the first sag stop we were alone as Alden called back to Josh about something to do with his car. We all kind of looked at each other and decided to carry on. I rode out front. If anyone wanted my wheel I was perfectly happy to haul them along. After some time it seemed like everyone was falling back so I turned off my headlamp and rode under the moon’s silvery glow. I heard a elk bugle off to the left. Just a few paces down highway 12 I saw a herd of elk in the field. The moon was so bright I could see everything.
“ali, ali, ali – up, up, up”, I yelled and induced a stampede. The elk herd rumbled along side of me for about a quarter mile before they settled down and I left them behind in the darkness. The ride alone under the moonlight was surreal and almost spiritual. I could hear Lolo Creek just over the soft hum of my small block eight cyclocross tires. Yes I went full knob all the way.
I noticed that my lack of bike preparation had left me with a saddle too low. In the late night dash to get my bike ready I changed over my seat from my mountain bike for more comfort but didn’t test the saddle height. I pulled off the road at the Lumberjack Saloon turnoff. Again sag station 2 was deserted just like the first. I envisioned doing an ultra world championships and I was so fast I beat all the officials to the check points. After fumbling just slightly in the dark for my bike tools I got the seat adjusted and prepared to take off when everyone else started in.
“My toes are #$&@ing cold”, Dave reported to everyone.
It seemed everyone was in agreement that it was WAY colder up route 12 then back in Missoula. Later I heard reports it was in the 30s. Matt took off first as I adjusted my base layers to accommodate the lower temperatures. Soon I caught up to him and went off alone again into the ever brightening sky. The morning was at hand and I could feel the daylight stretching its arms and waking up behind me. Soon I would see the sun rise and I wanted to be on Lolo Pass.
As the daylight filled in behind me I reached Lolo Pass and rode up it with the greatest of ease. I thought to myself that this was going to be such a fun and adventurous day. Just as my mind drifted a vehicle pulled up behind me and people started whistling and shouting. It was the sag vehicle with Josh and the crew. Just in time too because without my down jacket at the top of the pass I would of froze to death going off the other side.
The ride down the pass was more comfortable then I could imagine. With temps possibly in the 30s it was a recipe for a bone chilling and eye watering decent. In a last minute decision I had put on “big red” my winter parka. The ride down was toasty and nice. Without shivering violently I was about to take in the beautiful morning views and even draft a semi truck half way down the pass. I arrived at the last sag station very quickly after the high speed decent.
I slid into the last bike sag station and went to my knees. I bent over and kissed the dirt. The gritty texture stuck to my lips as I rose up from the Elk Summit Road. Some people were taking photos as I yelled, “oh dirt .. how I missed you”.
Finally I had arrived to my surface. It was all dirt road to the transition area. I knew it could be like 10 miles and maybe more but I was in store for more then I thought. As I mounted my bike for the last wheeled section and rode aggressively (the “every man for himself” section) I was confident that with a cross bike setup I would be ok on the monster climb.
Monster climb is what Josh called it and his recollection of a out of the saddle death experience consumed my mind as I ticked off the miles heading to Elk Summit. Then it happened. The pitch increased, standing on the bike started to wear on me, and I found myself looking up to the next “possible” flat spot where I thought the road would level out. Level out for just a moment so I could collect myself and sit down. It did not and the climb took about an hour. It was all that Josh had described but soon enough I did find the top and rode the rollers with great glee on the last stretch.
9 mile
s of rolling dirt road in which I found myself in a race with a 4 wheeler. On the climbs it would surge ahead but then on the descents I would blast down at speeds that the balloon tired vehicle just couldn’t obtain. I would come right back up to it and endure rocks and dust until the next climb. Soon the little vehicle which contained an elderly couple found a hill that was long enough to put my too far back to catch up and they disappeared down the road. I easily peddled into the transition at Elk Summit.
“Would you like to sigh our guest book”, a sweet older woman asked me as I tore off my sweaty gear.
“Sure”
“Would you like some water?”
“Oh that would be great. My support hasn’t arrived and I need to mix up some stuff before running to Hamilton. Is it really 25 miles away?” I motioned off to the East.
“I don’t know, come on in I’ll get you some water”
I signed the guest book and noticed Larry and Julie’s entry. I couldn’t wait to catch up to them. I knew that if I could then the pace the rest of the journey would be fun. Until then however I was going to run. My running record is like 13 miles and maybe I could get in 15 before I slowed to a hike.
About 45 minutes passed and I was wondering where the sag vehicle went. Did they get a flat? Or worse yet, maybe someone got hurt.
I really needed my running shoes so I could get started. I needed a big buffer before the trail running crew showed up. Alden would end his day but then we would pick up two fresh runners to pace Matt. Dave would round out the 100 mile crazies. I figured when they caught me I would do whatever to stay with them until we ran into Larry and Julie.
My day’s expectations decided to go from exceeding my goals to failing at simple objectives. Finally the sag wagon appeared but just moments after Dave pulled into the transition area. Obviously we were all grouping up and running out together. I knew I was doomed and fiddled around in transition way too long. My buffer was gone and I feared I would be the last straggler out of the woods later that night.
We finally jogged out of Elk Summit and into the wilderness heading East toward Montana and Blodgett Canyon. Instantly my back started to spasm. After that lengthy climb on the bike and then a transition to running with a pack was too much for my back. I struggled to keep pace and was worried that I would have to go back or walk the rest of the route some 25 miles thought the Bitterroot wilderness. 25 miles would take like 9 hours which meant coming out in the dark.
Dave slowed to a hike reporting that he had learned his lesson at the Grizzlyman Adventure Race. This did slow down the progression a bit but soon after a water stop it became evident that the group was here to run and off they went. I took time out to take photos and wait up for Dave. I decided to go his pace since obviously he knew about how to pace this leg and I didn’t.
That lasted about a half an hour then I started feeling pretty good (damn Carbo Rocket). In fact I wanted to run it again so I set fourth on a pretty good pace. I ran up to and past the 10 mile mark and finally felt like I was settling into at least a sustainable ultra pace. A pace that would help me achieve my goals of running past my 13 mile personal best. Suddenly the path turned rocky, rutted out, and hidden by tall grass. I kept falling down and stumbling. I realized I was going to get hurt and once again slowed my pace to a hike. Damn, I was no trail runner. Mentally I threw in the towel.
I looked back on a exposed area and saw Dave ripping up the trail with a mean gate. A very quick hike pace and he was overtaking me very quickly.
“Just gorgeous up here”, I shouted back.
“Yes, yes it is”
I gave up the ghost and stood by a stream that looked to me like a great place to get water.
“Do you think this is drinkable?”, I asked Dave as he approached.
“Yea, I am going to fill up”
After the stop I struggled to hang onto Dave’s heels but I knew I didn’t want to be walking at the pace I wanted to walk which would have put me at the finish in 2015. For me the event stopped being a solo attempt and became more of a team effort. I would need to rely on others to pace me out. At times I was able to recover enough to lead out and put in a decent pace myself but for the majority I was on Dave’s heels enjoying the company in probably one of the most beautiful places around.
After what seemed forever we finally made it to the top of Blodgett Pass where the rest of the trail running crew was waiting up for us. We had to make sure everyone got out alive. After discussing our statuses we headed down the other side. They told us that we were just moments from catching Julie and Larry. This seemed to make things look up because if we could catch them I could definitely walk it in with them. Little did I know Julie would become this ultra endurance running star and they would not only hold us off the rest of the way but actually put distance on us. Julie actually finished and went for another 1 mile run to capture a marathon distance.
Soon the running crew took off with a goal of finishing the rest of the event in 2 hours. We were 10 miles out and I was figuring we would finish in around 3 hours.
So there we were again, me nipping at Dave’s heels, and taking pulls at the front when I could. My pace quickened as I approached what I thought was the wilderness boundary. I need to make it to the boundary because I had been there before and it would symbolize that were within reach of finishing. I knew it was a long trail from there but a trail I have been on and could count off the landmarks.
The last 5 miles was grueling. We kept stumbling on the ultra technical trail. It was beat in by horses and the bear grass had grown up so big that you couldn’t see the ground in spots. There was pitfalls and lots of places to break bones. I eventually gave up looking for Julie and Larry. I eventually gave up looking for any sign that it was going to be over. I even stopped talking big pulls at the front. I just stammered in behind Dave. If it wasn’t for him pacing me in I would still be out there walking.
About 14 hours and 13 minutes since we started the 100 mile trek we spotted a paved road. It was the end and we made it. Dave and I celebrated and proceeded to throw down a million calories. We craved beer and meat. I proceeded to crawl up in a fetal position and lay on the ground.
This weekend I want to try running a 23-25 mile wilderness run. Who wants to pick me up at the Bass Creek Trailhead late Saturday?
Boneshakerbike 