Mt. St. Helens is the most magical mountain for me. I don’t remember much of when I had to study geography in middle school when I lived in Singapore. One of the volcanoes was this legendary eruption of the 1980s. As you can tell, I was a horrible student, because I remembered absolutely nothing except for the mountain’s name. I had no idea where Mt. St. Helens was, just somewhere out there in the United States, a faraway land where magic happens. It was at least a decade later, probably when I was visiting Portland for the first time, that I realized Mt. St. Helens was real and a place I could visit. I did not visit it back then, and it took me three visits while I was living in Portland before I saw the mountain (thank you for the always cloudy weather). Snow-peaked mountains are a dime a dozen in the Pacific Northwest, everyone has their favorite. However, Mt. St. Helens is the most obvious one that has its head blown off – uniquely on its class, which is why, it stayed my favorite mountain.
A few years back, I had the opportunity to summit Mt. St. Helens with M. We did it, and I thought it was kind of an OK experience, but I also noticed that our trail to the summit intersects the Loowit trail. Upon returning, I decided to check out that trail and learned that it is a trail that circumnavigates Mt. St. Helens. Loowit is the name given to Mt. St. Helens by the local Klickitat tribe, though other tribes called it different names; the “Mt. St. Helens” we called it now was named after the title of 1st Baron St Helens, which belonged to Alleyne FitzHerbert, who was a friend of explorer George Vancouver. George Washington on HMS Discovery recorded the first European sighting of Loowit on May 19, 1792, at the mouth of Columbia River (near Astoria). On the same trip, on October 29, 1792, William Broughton on the HMS Discovery saw and named it Mt. Hood, after Samuel Hood, 1st Viscount Hood. They also named Mt. Rainier, after Vancouver’s friend Peter Rainier; and Mt. Baker after Joseph Baker who saw it on the boat. Dang, imagine going to some new place and inventing random names – and they stick! A product of colonialism, but we are still doing that in science, where we name things after ourselves or random things whenever we find something new. However, if we step back a little, every culture looks at stuff and names them, so maybe it is just a very human thing, to name things. Anyway, Mt. St. Helens is named after a title, which in turn is a village on the Isle of Wright, a tiny island in the English Channel!
Back to the story, once I learned about the Loowit trail, it got into my mind that I ought to circumnavigate my favorite mountain. I remember that people hammer down the idea that it is a must-have adventure to circumnavigate Mt. Rainier via the Wonderland trail, so I thought to try a much easier trail on the Loowit. The Loowit trail is only 30 miles long, easy to receive permits, and not as crowded as the other trail. Moreover, unlike most volcanoes in the Pacific Northwest, Mt. St. Helens looks different from different angles, with the blown off top. If Hokusai could paint thirty-six views of Mt. Fuji, I ought to do the same for Mt. St. Helens! I did not plan for the hike until I heard murmurs about the trail being affected by dam work and thought that I had to push out this circumnavigation. After a quick research, I also found that multiday circumnavigation is difficult due to the lack of water. The remnants of the eruption still prevented a healthy forest from growing, which means water sources leave the area once the snow melts. This makes me less interested in trying to backpack the entire mountain.
I watched a video with M a long time ago, where they flew into the area and just ran the entire trail, which offers an alternative to hiking the Loowit trail. I did more research and found that many people complete this as a long trail run, but people still face the similar challenge of lack of access to water. As I was just going around the internet in the summer of 2022, I stumbled across Volcanic 50k, a trail race that checks the boxes I was looking for! By paying a fee, I would have access to a few aid stations along the entire Loowit Trail, reducing the need for me to worry about water. Moreover, it is nice to see other people doing this stupid thing with me, and it just feels so much safer that I would have access to aid if needed. (More on that later) The only problem was that this is such a hard race, that the stipulation is to have completed a 50k before signing up this race. Well well, if it is a pre-requisite, I do not have any options but to check that box.
In the later part of the 2010s, it seemed like races were just taking off, there were so many companies and races, and everyone was challenging themselves physically by running. I completed my last marathon in 2019, finally checked off 10 states (to be eligible as a member of the 50 states marathon challenge), but also decided that having more states under my belt is not meaningful anymore, and so I completely stopped road marathons. After moving to Oregon, a good friend Cory, who was active with trail races here, managed to convince me to sign up for a 5 half marathon trail series, but that was cancelled halfway due to the 2020 COVID pandemic. Since then, races slowly resumed, but I have found that I still have enough motivation to keep running (to get outside daily, but also keep my weight in check) that I did not need to pay for races and want to keep running. I ought to put a disclaimer here, I do not enjoy running that much. I am decent at it, and I am horrible at every other sport, so I tolerate running for the health benefits, and keeps me in shape so I can hike, walk, and backpack more easily. So, by the summer of 2022, I had officially retired from racing for 2.5 years, and I decided at that moment, that to complete my dream of circumnavigating Mt. St. Helens, I had to run two 50k races. I ended up choosing Mt. Hood 50k for the 2023 race, as it was touted as an easy 50k; and with that result, I will sign up for the Volcanic 50k in 2024. So, goal set, and ready to go.
I did finish Mt. Hood 50k with very decent results, and I signed up for Volcanic 50k on January 1st, when it first opened, according to plan. The only issue was the timing – I plan to take my 7 week sabbatical and vacation in the spring of 2024. As the Volcanic 50k happens on Aug 3, and I’ll be back home on May 10, I’ll have 85 days to do a couch to 50k race. There will be no way I’ll PR, especially since Volcanic 50k is known for its extremely difficult race due to the terrain. I did not study the route, but I assumed that I’d end up walking a lot of it. If I treat Volcanic 50k as a trail hike, 30 miles did not sound that bad, and I ought to be able to finish it under all the cutoffs. My goal is to circumnavigate the dang mountain, forget about the time, and I don’t want to wait another year. This was also an opportunity to prove to myself that I am mentally strong enough to do a crazy challenge to complete a trail 50k with 6000 feet elevation in less than 3 months. Nobody would ever care or know, but I do. Maybe I’ll walk a little taller, and I could write it down here for nobody to read it.
As planned, I enjoyed my time in Japan, Singapore/Malaysia/Thailand, New Zealand, and even Hawaii. Then, the grind starts. I restarted my training from 3 miles run but ramped up quickly – the goal is to increase my long runs by 2-3 miles a week, so I hit at least 20 miles for my final long run. I would skip social trail runs on certain weekends just so that I can do a 4-mile repeat on a “bad” section in Forest Park in Portland, where I’ll gain 1000 feet in a mile only to lose it soon after. I would also run 10+ miles before work on certain days just so I can keep ramping up by base mileage. There is nothing technical here – just a mad man doing mad math to be fit enough to not die in the race. I would point out here that, even though on paper I have 85 days to train, that did not include about 21 days of tapering at the end; and there were weekends where I could not train as much as I would be traveling (for LDR). Looking back, it was such a miracle that I got enough training for this race – it was physically and emotionally draining from all the things I had to do, and I did not allow myself to miss a single beat. And my perfect plan went as well as it could have.
*****
The only plan left was to get to the start line. There was free camping at the start line, which is great because the race’s start line is at Sno-Park Marble Mountain. Like most USFS land, there are not many towns and accommodations around Mt. St. Helens, and if I stayed overnight at the nearest hotel by the highway, it would still be another 1 hour of drive to the start line. Since there are the three of us – Eric, J, and I – camping became the clear frontrunner. The sunset was much later in the summer, and by the time we got here on Friday, it was during the twilight hours. The parking lot was huge but was already half-filled. We thought we got a quiet spot but turns out there is a trail towards the main parking lot with bathrooms, so people did walk in and out all night. Cars were still streaming in by the time we settled into our tents, and fortunately, I had a good sleep and there were no complaints. The weather was chilly enough which made for a perfect camping night, especially in the summer.
The next morning, I rolled out of the tent and down my standard toast and cookie breakfast set. The parking lot has been filled to the brim at this point, and people have been streaming constantly while I was getting ready. I walked up to the registration tent and got my gear checked – they were thorough. Due to the remoteness of the race, and the amount of time we were expected to be out, we had to be self-sufficient. I had to buy a few items just to be able to start the race, but I also brought my trusty Nikon 28Ti for the race. I even used a very random water pouch to carry the 40oz water requirement. However, I realized the smarter thing is to buy more of the same water bottles I’m using and just switch them out. Next time!
The gracious race directors had coffee all set up and we enjoyed some fresh brew. They were also selling merch as usual, but I’m so burnt out from that joy that I have not bothered to buy any in years. We were entertained by a quick briefing for the race, but I didn’t listen and ran for the bathroom while everyone else was mesmerized by the talk. Something about an alien aid station. Speaking of this race, the course is known to be ridiculous, and due to the difficulty, the race time is closer to a 50 miler. I’ve never raced a 50 miler, so I do not know my timing for it. However, I did put in a predicted a 10 hour finish time, a random time I just pulled from nowhere, probably because I liked how the number sounded, and I did want to eat dinner by 1700. It was still a bit chilly by 0700, and I chilled and chatted with someone who was a volunteer previously and was so impressed by those runners that she wanted to do this race. Then, I noticed there were chairs laid out by the race director and chose one to sit in while there was more chatting. I will be up the rest of the day, so I deserved the seat more than most people here.
At exactly 0700, the director said go, and 170 of us left. Well, I was technically sitting, as per usual, I want to start the race from the very back, especially for such a long race. There is some advantage of starting not the very last, but here is me nick picking on certain racers who do not understand their strength. There are way more runners who decided that it is the day and go go go and would try to squeeze to the front of the starting line, only to block everyone else who is faster than that. So, starting from the very last means I will have to pass everyone one of these people, and I’ll be running at the slowest denominator until at least the first aid station, which sucks. But on the other hand, is my nightmare scenario, where I will try to follow the person in front of me and end up burning more fuel than I can afford at the start of the race, and suffer for the rest of the day. So, between getting annoyed running slower than expected for a few miles, vs suffering for the rest of the day, I rather do the former. Which is why, I’m still sitting a few seconds after the start has been declared. There was a huge traffic jam straight into a single file trail, and I decided to start from the seating position, 1 min 30 secs after the race had begun!
The race is mostly circumnavigating Mt St. Helens, and I’ll indicate it by clock position. We start at the 6 o’clock position, but it is around 2 miles to and from the Loowit trail from the start and finish line. So, for the first 2 miles, we are running north towards Mt. St. Helens, slowly gaining elevation but in a mostly tree covered area. The trails are very nice here, mostly leveled and not too rooty, even with the huge trees around. The sun was kind of up, but not high enough to warm up the forest, so we were enjoying the shaded area. With the incline, and being at the end of the pack, I ended up walking most of these when I could have run. Could be a tactical mistake, but again, the race is so long, that I had to work on my emotion that it was okay to be slow and walk most of these nice trails at the beginning.
At around the 2 mile mark, we broke out from the woods and saw our first lava field. This was still early in the race, and so it did not seem as difficult as what everyone warned about. We flew by this field and were invited by wildflowers blooming in red, yellow, and purple. It was gorgeous, especially as we were high enough to see the sun on the horizon. Such a beautiful morning, and still cool enough to not be overheated. I ought to be drinking more water now, but I still have my morning cup of coffee in my stomach, so I continue to follow the train while making more small talk to random runners in front of behind me. People are friendly here, and many people drove from Seattle just for this race. The field of runners seems more diverse than usual – I think there is no specific demographic of people who are nutty enough to run an extremely difficult 50k. We got onto the Loowit trail some brief time later and for the next few miles, it was a very pleasant Saturday morning trail run.
The first aid station was a little past mile 6, around 7’o clock position, at Butte Camp. I was surprised to see the aid station but didn’t need much except to top off the little I had drank. Thank god the train has now been broken up into an earlier and later train, and more, but I decided to follow the later train, which was going at a decent pace. One of the things that I did read about is some rope section, but I couldn’t figure out why. Turns out, I forgot that an eruption changed the landscape, and lava flows have created these huge canyons around the mountain, which are made of loose rocks and ashes. The rope is to make sure that we can go down (or up) on these insane cliffs that have no boulders or stable rocks to hold onto. The sandy ridges continued for most of the day, which I was not prepared for. These are known as scree, one of the more technical trail running terrains (besides sand and talus). I see a ton of fearless runners just in front of me running up and down these steep and often gripless slopes, and I have to slow down and take a breather to try not to lose my balance or footing. Oh, did I mention I did not have poles? I debated if poles would help, maybe in some sections? But I don’t think I would hang onto my dear life with one of these, so I don’t know.
Even though I complained about the terrain, it was still wonderful out there. Going up and down these canyons might suck, but each of them is slightly different, and I enjoy looking at Mt. St. Helens occasionally. There are still some trees here, but it is getting sparse and the sun is now on full blast. One of the things I was concentrating on was the time. See, I did not want to go hard, but I still need to somewhat try because there are two separate cutoffs – at aid station 2 and aid station 4. Chances are, I will have zero issues, but if I did miss the cutoff, I will not be able to continue, which would suck. This is because these aid stations are nowhere close to the trailhead, and it is still a long way away back to the start from these trailheads. As a result, people who quit or miss the checkpoints, or even injure themselves, must slowly walk from the aid station to the trailhead (which is a few miles away) and hitch a very long ride back to the start line. The race director did mention this feature of the race a few times, and that even they prefer people to complete the race after failing the last checkpoint because it would be faster and less of a logistical nightmare.
Back to reality, I was starting at the 11:30 cutoff for the 2nd aid station. I had more than 30 minutes to complete an extraordinarily small distance to the checkpoint, and it was all downhill for the last 1.5 miles to this aid station. I tend to be slightly nervous about going downhill, as accidents tend to happen going down. However, I have already missed a step earlier, on one of the few sections where the trees are so overgrown and there are barely any trails on the floor, where I misstepped and did not realize that the other side of this overgrown area is basically a cliff down to nowhere. Thankfully the branches caught me, and I recovered right away. Similar to the previous aid station, I did not notice it until I was meters away and took a longer break. Had all my water bottles refilled, and even had a little peanut butter sandwich. I rarely eat real food on the trail, mostly because I rarely must run long enough distances to justify the need for calories, but also the body and stomach don’t like to eat during survival mode. Though, I would say I tend to lean towards a trash can and I never have issues keeping food down.
I was stalling a little bit before leaving this aid station. Even though I had not been going fast, and that I was very hydrated, I was already feeling sore and it was barely a third of the way through. My crew (Eric and J) were also supposed to meet me here, but I had a hunch that this was too difficult for them to get here in time. However, I’m kind of glad they didn’t come – with the sore state I’m in, there was a big chance I would have given up and walked out with them. Ironically, friends and family might be the Achilles heel to many racers, though it seemed like people do enjoy seeing a familiar face. I’m just weird.
Once I was out of the aid station (I like that they yelled my number as I left, made me sound like a professional athlete), there was a glacier river crossing but there were enough rocks and the water level was shallow enough for me to skip across without issues. I could see from the other side that there was a short line waiting for people to use the rope up the very steep incline. I was quite excited and confident from the earlier rope section, so I tried to do it quickly, but lost control a few steps up, and bang onto the cliff on my left side. Unfortunately, my left elbow is extremely delicate from lots of probing due to medical scarce, and I managed to smash it hard. Once I was on top, I went to one side and tried to assess the damage, which was bad bleeding from the scraps, but nothing serious otherwise. I could have gone back to the aid station to try to clean it up, but I decided to just use some precious water and a towel I brought to stop the bleeding. Fortunately, putting on pressure for a few minutes got the wound close enough that I could continue, but I now know that I need to have bandages in my running pack going forward. It is an annoyance but nothing too serious.
The next few miles, from mile 12 to mile 16 (10 o’clock to 12 o’clock) flew by much faster than the earlier section. There was a little bit of a climb, but much fewer canyons that I had to dip up and down. The trails are quite nice here, mostly flat surfaces, and the lack of people means I can do whatever pace I feel like, which made it better. I even managed to find a nice glacier stream and had a cold icy wipe down (and to chill my wound).
The 12 o’clock position is very cool because I could see the full blast impact from the eruption. The entire face of Mt. St. Helens had collapsed in this direction, and we could only see the crater in the middle. This is also the side most tourists see, from the Johnson Observatory, where I assumed Eric and J were found. I thought we would cross the visitor center, but the Loowit trail is halfway between the volcano and the visitor center. I also did not realize that there was a separate incident that destroyed parts of the road to the visitor center months ago, so nobody was observing me, at all!
As I was thinking about these thoughts while running through the mostly flat terrain of Loowit Trail, I noticed that the temperature was rising but it was not too uncomfortable. It was warm, but not brutally hot. However, I also realized that by now, my hat ought to be dripping from sweat (a normal phenomenon during practice runs), but it was bone dry right now. I was getting a slight dizzy spell, very down, a bit wobbly, and a little bit of a headache. Fortunately, part of my brain realized that I was dehydrated and got me on high alert. I started pacing my water intake. Unfortunately, the next aid station was still 3 miles away, and I did not have an unlimited supply of water. The rolling hills between mile 16 to mile 19 (1 o’clock) made it a little easier for me to concentrate on drinking water, rather than having to pay attention the entire time not to die by flying off the cliff! I did remember that the aid station was somewhere around mile 19 and drank all my water by then. However, GPS data never correctly calculated the distance, and I was just dragging my feet across the hot plains, trying to spot the next aid station like a thirsty man in the desert looking for an oasis.
There were a few false mirages, but I really couldn’t see where the aid station was at. There were no huge tents, though there were some random people around the trail that I thought were the aid station (they were not). My ears perked when I heard water gushing through a tiny section of forest (in an area without any trees, the ecology hadn’t recovered since the eruption). Then, I noticed an alien balloon among the trees and smiled. Futuristic sound blasted through the hidden area, and a few volunteers dressed in NASA suits were pouring water into all the thirsty runners. I’m not the only one who is feeling the heat here. Since this aid station is so remote, it is an extremely basic aid station with just water and some aid. And the water might be the best in the world – they scoop from the glacier melt and pour it straight into our water bottles. The ice cold water was a relief and one of the volunteers even pointed at all the “dry” heads and insisted on pouring some water on our heads. I rehydrated and had all my bottles refilled, but also chilled (literally and mentally) for a little while in this beautiful and bizarre aid station.
The next and last aid station is found at mile 24 (3 o’clock) Ape Canyon, which is only 4 miles away from the last aid station. This is also a checkpoint stop, which I’ve to be here by 1600. As much as we know we will be able to make the checkpoint, there is still a huge mountain (Windy Ridge) in between, and though it looked easy enough to cross over, it still looks daunting. The entire trail is on scree, and as much as I have no issues walking up, I’ll never dare to pass anyone and take it slow. It is quite fun, to see many other runners in front of me, and after me. Some people are suffering from the damage accrued over the day and taking small breaks to let the rest pass. The wind picked up, and the clouds were finally blocking the sun somewhat, giving us a little shade.
As much as I was happy to get to the top of Windy Ridge, which lived up to its name, I was not happy. On the other side of this mountain is another scree, which is in an even more sketchy state than the climb up. I had to take it extremely slowly. At some portions, I didn’t even believe I could make it down, let alone without issues. The feeling that I thought the ground was always solid, but once the ground shakes, my entire belief system is gone – that’s literally how I feel at every step. There are many portions where the trail has been completely washed out, and it was a control sliding down the ledges, except there are no big boulders to be held on to if I ever need it. I was sliding slowly down the hill when I noticed that, somewhere in the distance on the flats, some red things were going on. Getting closer, I noticed those were people, but it was not the aid station since we were still due a few more miles. Turns out, these are some of the mountain rescue team, all on cool motorcycles and supplying us with a bonus aid station. I asked for some ibuprofen since my head has been throbbing, and also had the most delicious Sour Patch Kids ever. I ought to pack both items in the future.
The flat section at the bottom of the hill is known as the Plains of Abraham, which is the best part of the trail. Earlier, I met the runner who had run every single race, and he noted that I’d enjoy this flat portion. He is right, I picked up the pace not having to worry about dying for once today. It was extremely freeing, and with Mt. St. Helens in the background, and Mt. Adam in the foreground, it is the best trail running experience I’ve had in a while. I am a creature of comfort, and I wouldn’t have minded if this was all 50k of the race. I ought not to be a trail runner…?
The miles moved quickly here, and it was the fastest I was running throughout the entire race. I saw the final aid station and checked in half an hour before the cutoff, at 1530. Mile 24 is at the 9’o clock position, which means, I have about a quarter way, around 8 miles, back to the finish. At this point, I was feeling great and only had great thoughts. I assumed the worst was over, that all the scree might be ending! I refilled my water, made sure to eat the disgusting GU gels, and left the final aid station. The sun is slowly inching down on the horizon. I’m no romantic, but, ironically, many people never get to spend an entire day outside. Even when we are on vacation, we tend to hide from the environment, so completing these longer distance races is one of the few days in the year when I enjoy every single moment while the sun is out. However, I would say it is horrible for my skin, as I do not put on sunscreen on these long runs. I cross my fingers, hoping that my skin is strong enough to tank these damages occasionally.
The two miles after the last aid station was not too technical, but it was a major climb at this stage of the race. Think of all the runners who get wheeled off the finish line at any full marathon races, and think of running up another 40 floors immediately at that stage. Even though I was suffering, I was still covering the distance quickly and I know that this was the last uphill left in the race. Once that was over, we were welcomed by huge rolling rock canyons, which it was sketchy but not as bad as scree, but I still had to watch where I was stepping in case I crashed into one of these hard boulders while trying not to fall into the abyss down below. At this point, there were around 10 of us who were around the same pace and passed each other when the other was taking a break. And I took a few breaks, not only to give my mind a break from concentrating on not dying but also to pour our ashes and sand that are in my socks and my shows. Gaitors would have prevented that, but that wouldn’t give me these breaks!
I found a piece of giant boulder sticking out on the side of the cliff when the trail was slightly wider and enjoyed my last major break. I thought this was the end, that the rock canyons were the infamous boulder field that everyone was complaining about. At mile 28, this was around the 5 o’clock position, and I knew that there were at most 2 more miles on the Loowit Trail, before I descended back to where I started this morning. It is 1700 at this point, so I thought I could easily finish the race in the next hour or so, see all the happy faces, and even grab some real food!
Well, turns out the real boulder field begins. The good news was that the trail that truly crossed the boulder field was less than a mile in length. However, those boulder fields are horrible. It was just like playing a video game platformer, pick your poison – Mario, Crash Bandicoot, Celeste, Shovel Knight. I must leap from one rock to another, hoping I do not choose a bad rock that is not on solid ground, also trying not to crash into any of the rocks. There is also some climbing, in terms of elevation, and terms of action, to cross these ridiculously hard bolder fields. We did end up back in the forest and I screamed in joy when I could see the loop back to the trailhead on my watch, only for the trail to take a turn back into the middle of another boulder field, where I still have some climbs and survival to do. There are little cones in the distance to help us navigate this treacherous terrain, but even though they look so near, it takes forever to get from one point to another. Sometimes, I would have to backtrack because there was no safe way to continue to the next cone.
I finally left the Loowit trail and began the descent to the finish line at mile 30, at the 6 o’clock position. It took me an hour to complete that 2 miles, which wasn’t even a complete boulder field. The last 2.5 miles back to the start was uneventful. There were still some smaller boulder fields that I didn’t even realize I crossed this morning, but it was not what I just experienced. Since I did not actually use much fast twitchy muscle the entire day, and the trail has flattened out and mostly downhill, I managed to get back to around 10 min/mile pace. It might not seem like much, but everyone else was barely hiking down that last part, so I felt like the Flash speed running until the end of the race and even passed a few people along the way.
The finish line came where I expected it, and I finished with another runner who was completing the race at the same time as me. My brain was in a fog, I was given my glass cup and the race director said something before I was ushered to a chair set up by my crew – Eric and J! They had an enjoyable day out driving around, after realizing that there was no way they could have made it to any of the aid stations and brought me some Fish and Chips. They have been waiting for the last 3 hours, thinking I might finish in 10 hours, whereas my real final time is 11 hours and 44 minutes. I might not believe in my ability, but it is good to know other people do. This finish line party was great. Tons of chairs surrounded the finish line, the MC kept us entertained, and food and drinks flowed freely. We were all so excited to see people finish, especially me since I spent the worst part of my life with some of these comrades. I do not know them by name, but I know exactly how they felt.
The race – now, this is no joke. It is one of the hardest races I’ve done, sorely because of how technical this was. This reminds me of the hike up the Pinnacles in Gunung Mulu National Park. I’m completely broken and sore, and I even got to visit the medical tent for once to get some wounds cleaned up. I’ve been humbled, (was I not already?), and I understand why people mentioned the difficulty of this race. It was not the elevation gain, sure, 7000ft over 50K is not easy, but how technical those boulders fields, and scree were. To think people finish in half the time I did means they were sprinting across the face of death and did not care for it. I was never young enough to be that unafraid, and I do not believe I’ll ever be able to face death with a smile like that. Regardless, I’ve concurred circumnavigating the mountain of my dreams, and I’m extremely glad I’ll never have to hike or run this trail again. This is good, I’ve spent enough hours looking at Mt. St. Helens. But…. the next mountain, just north of us, Mt. Rainier, could be a good way to circumnavigate that?
Ha, what am I joking? I strive to do simple things. Mt. Hood is more my cup of tea!
Issue 92. Volume 14. Chapter 4.
Visited: Aug 3, 2024.
Website: https://gobeyondracing.com/races/volcanic-50/
Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/12056871656
Color photos: Orwo NC400 on Nikon 28Ti
On course photos: Full Send Media