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The Bear 100's Guardian Angel (note fanny pack), Paris Canyon Pass, 2006
2006 Official Race Report
The Snow Bear
‘Let’s hope it’s not the Snow Bear” I told
Errol as we were getting ready for the race this year. We had talked about what
we would do if we got hit with a major snowstorm the day of the race, which is
always a possibility in mid to late September. Cancellation of the race was an
option that I had a hard time coming to grips with.
When we set the date for the race a year ago, I
was worried. Historically the wettest part of September is between the 20th
and the 25th. On Sept. 23, 2000, the Top of Utah marathoners were hit
with a major snowstorm, but a week later at the Bear, we had nice weather. Ever
since then, I have been watching the weather very closely, and noticed that
almost every year it snows about the same time, around the 22nd, or
23rd. This year the odds were against us.
So I came up with plan B. The main problem
with a snowstorm would be getting the aid stations up and running at the higher
elevations, so I thought “Why not just move some of the aid stations to lower
elevations, and re-route the course to mainly dirt roads.”
After mapping out the new sections, doing trail
work on one section that needed it, figuring out which aid station would move
where, I sent plan B to Phil, our webmaster, to all our aid station captains,
the Ham Radio operators, and we were set.
I really hoped we wouldn’t have to go to plan
B, for many reasons, one of which is that I decided to run the race this year,
since Ron Stagg was available to play race Director on race day.
In the past we have had problems with people
taking down course markings, so I came up with another plan. I would start an
hour early, and make sure the course is still marked, and make any adjustments,
if necessary. I figured I could stay ahead of the leaders for half the race
anyway, and after that, well, hopefully our course markers would have their jobs
done, and I could just worry about getting to the finish.
The week before the race things were looking
ugly. It rained, and it rained. The forecast was for continued unsettled
weather. We would have to make a decision by Wed., Phil suggested. I said we
might decide to decide on Thursday, the day before the race, but after seeing
the weather forecast on Wed., I told Phil, “There’s a 90% chance we’ll go to
plan B.” There was a storm rolling in from the northwest, bringing snow down to
the 5,000 foot level. They predicted 7 to 15 inches at the higher elevations.
Plan B was a go.
Race morning I got up, got ready and headed to
the start. When I left at 5:00 am there was a light snow falling. It was kind of
exciting at first, but the snow kept coming down, and harder. It was sticking to
the leaves of the trees and brush, causing them to bend over into the trail.
Since most of the first 33 miles are on trail, it got old in a hurry. At about
mile 25 I was having negative thoughts. But then I said to myself, “No!, you’ve
got to be tough! You’re going to finish this thing!”
Shortly after that it quit snowing. By the time
I reached Albert Moser Campground at mile 33, I was ready to take on the next
challenge, a 10 mile climb to the highest part of the course.
Meanwhile, about 30 minutes behind me, the race
was unfolding. Allen Belshaw was in the lead, followed closely by Karl Meltzer,
then not far back was Ty Draney. Karl turned it on after Albert Moser
Campground, and by mile 39, had caught Allen. At about mile 45, he caught up to
me, just before the ice caves aid station. From there it was a cruise on down to
the Paris Spring Campground. Shortly after that, Allen caught up to me, and we
ran together until I tripped and almost went down. My knee started hurting, so I
slowed down for a bit, and enjoyed the view of the snow-capped mountains to the
north in the fading light.
The out-and-back from Danish Flat to Copenhagen
Basin Road and back was a slippery, muddy mess in places. That section is always
tough, with it’s many ups and downs, but this year it was especially bad. The
only bright spot was seeing familiar faces on the way back, or should I say,
hearing familiar voices, as it was dark by then.
As I was trudging up through the 4 inches of
snow toward Green Pass, I heard an Elk bugle. “That’s cool.” I thought. I was
tempted to try bugling back, but then I thought better of it, thinking he might
get upset, and come charging after me, and at that point, I didn’t have the
energy to evade a 600 pound Bull Elk.
Karl continued to cruise, running every step of
the way from the Paris Ice Caves (mile 86) to the finish. Allen Belshaw had a
good run for 2nd. Ty caught up to me at mile 93 at the German Dugway
aid station. I thought I might be able to stay with him to the finish, but Ty
had a fresh pacer, and if there would have been any dust, they would have left
me in it. As it was, they cruised, while I suffered a miserable last 4 miles.
Milada Copeland had a nice race for 1st female, and 7th
overall. Phil finished his 5th straight to claim the coveted streaker
jacket, and Tim Seminoff kept the streak alive at 8 straight.
After all is said and done, I must simply say I
was amazed! I was amazed at the toughness exhibited by the 44 hardy souls who
showed up for the event. To even show up, knowing a snowstorm was heading our
way, is amazing. Of the 48 signed up, only 4 didn’t show for the race. Of the 44
who started, only 8 dropped out. Considering the conditions, that was really
amazing. I am also amazed at the willingness of the volunteers to show up and
man the aid stations, and do the communications by Ham Radio, and they had fun
doing it!
Switching over to plan B went relatively
smooth, except for one issue with drop bags, and now we know what to do for next
time, if there ever is a next time we have to use plan B.
Thanks to all who made this race
possible, and the continuing streak of the Bear 100. Eight years and going
strong.
For next year….I predict nice Indian summer
weather, like we normally have.
Leland Barker, RD
2006 Polar Bear Unofficial Race Report
The danged polar high set up camp almost two weeks ago and
knocked the jet stream down 500 miles, so Utah and Idaho get in this wicked
storm track, and BAM! the Bear 100 course gets nuked with almost a foot of snow
at its high points the day before the race. So we move the whole course—I mean,
chunks stay the same, but we literally move it all over, and this is wickedly
complex, but because the Idaho emergency radio people and volunteers are like
space aliens they just do it in 6 hours. They just used my digital maps and GPS
waypoints, and most of them knew the whole place like the back of their hand
anyway. So off we go, in a freakin snow storm—REALLY snowing, not this drizzly
orographic crap you sometimes get after a front passes, it was PRE-CIP-I-TAT-ING—and
44 people take off. And, are you guys for real, can you do this? Snows for six
(6!) stinking hours, everyone is wet and muddy and Errol Jones, my other
assistant race director, wonders if we should just call the whole thing off, but
then the sun comes out and we get giddy and I tease him for being a California
guy running in the snow in Idaho and that I’m a stupid Utah Mormon for running
in it, too, and now we’re feeling good and happy. So we climb up to 8000 feet
and there is 8 inches of snow, but it’s melting, right? So now it’s slush.
Whoa. But then SNOW SHADOW—the mountains blocked the snow from getting to the
east side of the range, and so we get 30 miles of NO SNOW, but it’s mud, but I
have ski poles, and then the mud freezes, so who cares? So lots of Red Bull in
the night, great dutch oven potatoes at Mill Canyon, and an eery walk through
the 6 inches of snow at Green Pass, where it really is getting COLD. Orion
rises and the temp is in the toilet. Whoa! 17 degrees at Paris Ice Caves (what
a name!), and now the whole world is frozen and
can-you-believe-this-is-where-we-run-every-year-dang-it’s-cold! Over the pass,
everything hurts now except my nose and right pinky finger, and now I get
another round of red maples, to the finish. 36 out of the 44 make it.
Amazing. Just amazing. Ultrarunners never cease to amaze me.
Next year it’ll be 90 freakin’ degrees. Toodles.
Hyperphil
Soundtrack (objective: how it really was): Imperial March
from The Empire Strikes Back
Soundtrack (recommended to turn the ridiculous into the
sublime): Music for a Found Harmonium; Beethoven Eroica Mvt 1; Tonight (Phil
Collins)
Funnest nonrunning activity: making snow angels
Toughest customer: Tim Seminoff (ran the whole race in
shorts, 8th Bear in a row)
Highest temperature: 55 at Cub River
Lowest Temperature: 16 at Green Basin (0400 hours)
Second funnest nonrunning activity: asking the guys from
Georgia how they liked Idaho
Best line: “We’re gonna regret this in the morning.”
Best food: Dutch oven at Mill Canyon
Worst food: frozen soup at Copenhagen Road (no wonder they
name everything up there after Denmark)
Funniest sight: the wrecked camper
Best advice: NEVER eat unwrapped candy from a bowl at a
100-miler; it’s not that we don’t know where those hands have been—we know very
well where they’ve been (The Balmex Effect).
Most Longevity: Hans Dieter Weisshaar (96th
career 100-miler, age 66)
Best wildlife: Morgan Ridge Prize Bull
Best Movie: Dancing the Bear. Thanks, Soul Focus
Productions!
Most Respect: All 36 finishers. Wow!
2006 Polar Bear Photos (thumbnails)
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