After the initial shock of being in an actual building with four walls wore off, our team approached the check in table set up down the short hallway and in the dining room of the ski lodge. Patty was seated at the table with four envelopes and sign in sheets neatly arranged in front of her. She proceeded to explain the deal. As we had heard, there were four different orienteering courses set up on the grounds of the cross-country ski area. They were either short or long and easy or hard. During her explanation, Jim came over and joined in detailing how we were to go about the challenge.
Glancing over the map, it actually didn't look too terribly difficult. There was only one or two points I knew I would have to really use my brain to find. Becky gave me a few different attack point options for CP"L" while I emptied my pack of any non-mandatory items. Once my pack was blessedly lighter than normal, I bid my teammates adieu and set off on my own for what I was assuming would be an hour of sweet solitude.
I started my route by grabbing a CP tucked along a creek and then another up a semi shallow trail nestled in a drainage pit of sorts. From there, I goofed around a large rocky area for a few minutes until I saw my intended flag hanging about 100 yards further up the trail. After that punch I needed to gain a respectable amount of elevation. The maps were zoomed in from what looked like a caltopo app, with features slightly blurred and oddly enlarged. To find the next two points I needed to follow the abandoned framework of an old ski lift. The first of those two points was hanging in a huge metal culvert that ended with me soaking my shoes. Walking through the thigh-high vegetation to the next CP just saturated my shoes even more, so it wasn't a big deal.
I popped into the woods just a smidge prematurely for the next point before realizing my goof and then homed in to my intended CP. While I was climbing that trail, I had looked back and seen a spectacled gentleman, also deeply focused on the map in his hands, following along the same route. I had the thought of linking up with him, but I still have imposter syndrome and worried he would think I was just trying to ride his shirttails on the course.
After hitting that CP, which I had thought was my highest elevation of the course (ha. hahahaha.) I dipped back down the trails to a CP that was nestled deep in a reentrant ensconced by muck and mire. It was after punching that CP that I realized I had not paid enough attention to the contour lines, and I was going to have to turn around and scale back up the side of the mountain to the next two CPs. Rather than return to the trail, I chose to bushwhack directly up the incline. It was so steep in this no-mans-land between ski trails that I was pulling myself up, hand over fist, for what felt like eons. In actuality, it was probably only a like 100 feet of elevation, but it felt like I was trying to scale the side of Everest in my effort.
When I finally reached the connector trail between two ski runs I ran into Brittany. She looked flustered and slightly over the course. I asked which course she was running and she laughingly said, "Short Easy, of course!" She had also underestimated the challenge and not brought enough water. I offered for her to have some of mine, but she assured me she was on her return route and would be totally fine. I continued on to the point I knew I was going to have to work for.
As I approached the turn in the trail I was looking for, I spotted a reentrant that appeared on the map like it could lead me at least relatively near CP"L." I started up the little dry-ish creek bed. It always amazes me when you can feel as if your muscles and will power are at rock bottom and yet you can dig just a little deeper and keep going. The human body is an amazing thing, and with the continued knowledge that there is always just a smidge more gas in the tank, we can really amaze ourselves with what we are capable of. Cause it doesn't make sense that my legs kept climbing and my determination didn't dry up.
I climbed higher and higher up that reentrant until I came to a boggy mess of a clearing. I had started the climb with the hopes that the CP would just plop in front of me at the top. There was no plopping. I continued on the same trajectory for a while before I stopped and really looked at the map. There was no back stop to let me know I had gone too far. Just never-ending forest and topography. There was a larger reentrant to the right of where I was, so I thought to maybe shoot over to that area and poke around. I came to a boulder laden, treefall entombed, natural obstacle course and started to continue up. After a few minutes I started to notice just how low the sun was getting. This wasn't smart. I turned back toward the trail and slowly made my way down. I figured I would go for the remaining two points and then try this one again.
I headed further along the trail toward CP "M" and decided on approaching it from the least steep side of the hilltop. As I was picking my way through the thick and nearly impenetrable Vermont equivalent of rhododendrons, I came upon the same guy I had seen earlier on the course. I decided I didn't care if I seemed like a lost little puppy at that point and I asked him if he had any luck with CP"L". He said he was going for that one next and to just call out for him when I started going for it and he would help me out. I thanked him profusely and went on to punch M.
As I was returning to the trail intersection where he said he was going to shoot a bearing, I realized I had no idea what to call out to find him. I didn't catch his name, and I didn't want to just yell out "Hey glasses-guy!! Where are you?!" I decided I had to be a big girl and shoot my own bearing. I got a heading and dove directly into the woods. I climbed up and up and up yet again. While I don't claim that maintaining a heading is my best ability, I gave it my all to stay on course. For what seemed like an exorbitant amount of time, energy, and elevation, I kept going. Eventually I started to give up hope on finding this ding dang CP. The only problem was that if you missed even one of the points on your course you didn't get any credit for all your work. It was all or nothing. So, if I gave up on this one, then all the effort I had put into the other points was, well, pointless!
Just as I was really considering throwing in the towel, I spotted glasses guy climbing over a boulder coming toward me. Hot dang! I called out to him in relief and excitement! We closed in the distance between us and he assured me I was very close and to follow my heading just a few meters up and around the boulders in front of us and I would spot the CP at the top of a small rock ledge. As promised, there it was! I was so relieved. I only had one more point to find before I could head back to the lodge and stop moving for at least a little while.
Rather than turn around and head back the way I had come, I decided to change trajectories and head in a more direct route to my final CP which was on a small creek at the very bottom of the ski area. I crawled, scaled, and slid down toward the trail I had tried to use as my attack point the first time I went for "L". Within a few minutes I recognized the obstacle course before me and realized I hadn't been too far off on my first attempt at the CP. If I had maybe used more tools in my toolbox with that attempt I may have found it and saved myself at least 30 minutes. I promised myself I would not "just hope for the best" when I went for future off trail points.
I dropped back onto the trail and wove my way through ski runs until I came to the whereabouts for my final punch. Another racer was walking toward me in the fading light and I asked him if he thought going for the CP on the creek without a headlamp was doable, because I had left all light sources on the table in the lodge. He looked like he was lost, confused, and didn't understand the words coming out of my mouth. There was an awkward pause and he finally said, "yea, sure." I don't know who was more of a walking corpse at that point, him or me.
I came to the wood line where I was planning to dive into the thick of the vegetation for my final point when glasses-guy came bebopping out of the woods. He kindly gave me a heading to follow, and I dialed it into my compass as I thanked him yet again. Within a few feet of entering the dark of the woods I noticed a trampled trail through the tall grass and low shrubbery. Even though I had just had a pep talk with myself about not being lazy in my navigation, I put my compass back in my hip pocket and blindly followed the path in front of me. It dropped me right on the creek, but the CP was nowhere to be seen. I looked at my map and saw that the point should have been just a smidge further down the creek to the left. I didn't see any path over the land that headed in that direction, and I was near my absolute last bit of gas in the tank, so I decided hopping in the creek and wading through the knee-deep waters was easier than trying to force my way through the thick creek side bushes.
The cool water invaded my swampy shoes and felt lovely on my hot and blistered feet. I slowly sloshed my way down the creek and soon spotted my final punch of the course. As I climbed up the small step up to the creek bank, I saw an obvious trail just behind the flag. Well dang. I guess there was a trail I could have taken rather than slopping through the creek. But I did not regret the feeling of the refreshing water on my feet and calves.
I returned to the trail and followed a ski run called "home" back to the lodge as the sun completely set for the last time on the race. I was spent. Like every muscle in my body cried for a rest. Even my core felt wobbly as I trekked through the un-mowed thigh high grasses of the meadow surrounding the front of the lodge. I knew as soon as the next Irritatingly Optimistic teammate would head out for their run I was going to literally fall on the floor of the lodge and just rest. Sleep would be awesome, but even just staying still for a spell sounded glorious.
I came into the lodge and handed over my punch card to Patty. She gave me a smile and a nod of approval at my completion of the course. Waddling back over to the table we had claimed, I saw Becky resting with her head on her folded arms on the table. I didn't spot Dan at first, but quickly realized the snoring human wrapped in a bivy along the wall was my other teammate. Out like a light. I tapped Becky on the arm and plopped into a chair. She had been expecting me for a while and was surprised it had taken me so long, but stated other teams were taking just as long on the long-hard course. I agreed it had been a bit more challenging than expected and apologized for using up all the daylight. We together realized there was no way Dan was going to go out in the dark for any of the courses, and we were running out of time.
Not only did we have three more possible courses ahead of us, but we also needed to allot time for our two-hour penalty at this TA. It was roughly 9pm by this time and we wanted to give ourselves at least 8 hours on the final leg. There was no way we were going to be able to do the other 3 courses. Becky decided running the short easy course was probably the smartest option. She took her mandatory gear, a headlamp, and went to Patty to get the map.
Looking around the lodge there were bodies everywhere. Racers were sprawled out on tables, under tables, across chairs, behind counters, and along walls. Many people had their legs elevated on chairs and were laying on the floor. This looked like the very best option. I peeled out of my shoes and flopped my absolutely spent legs on a chair and literally flopped my torso on the floor with my pack under my head and my raincoat across my eyes. I didn't sleep. I don't know how to describe the feeling of being 100% on "E" and still not able to sleep. I don't know what I did, but it may have been an out of body experience for just a few minutes. I remained cognizant, but I recharged over the next 20 minutes to the point where I knew I could go on. I pulled my raincoat from my eyes and looked around. Brittany was set up at a table just behind me and appeared to be a functioning human. The lure of human interaction outweighed my need for sleep, so I dragged myself up and over to a seat at her table.
Together over tailwind and cheetohs, we chatted and commiserated for a few relaxing moments. Zach was out doing another course, but they were also resolved to doing only two of the four possibilities. It made me realized that if we were only doing two, why didn't I do the short hard or long easy?! A point is a point! But, honestly, I think I enjoyed that long hard course more than I should have, given my exhaustion and the late hour in the race.
While we were enjoying the moment of doing nothing, Dan appeared to wake up from his deep slumber. I watched him poke his head out from his bivy and look around for something. When his eyes landed on me, he held out an empty plastic cup and gave it a little shake. I paused not believing what I was seeing. This guy, who had been sleeping for the past few hours while his teammates were out scaling the sides of Prospect Mountain, was asking me to fill up his water cup for him so he wouldn't have to crawl out of his bivy sack. I turned and looked at Britany in disbelief. All we could do was laugh. It was a laugh of desperation, but it kept my reaction in check, and I was able to walk over to him, take his cup, fill it at the water fountain and return it to him without pouring it on his head. Small victories.
Becky returned to the lodge after less than an hour. She had had a small goof on the same CP I had that was housed in the culvert. I had given her a heads up on that one to not overthink it and that it was a pretty easy find. In the dark of the night, and with the culvert obviously blocking the reflection of the flag, it had proved to be a little trickier than I had suggested. Otherwise, it sounded like she had done really well and efficiently. It was getting late and we decided we would only claim ownership over two of the orienteering courses that evening.
Our next goal was to transition for the final bike leg of the race. The deal with our time penalty was that we had to completely stop and sit at a table for the allotted timeframe. I figured we would be able to sleep and eat for that time, perhaps even change clothes and use the bathroom. I was mistaken. We woke Dan up and all headed out into the dark to build our bikes and pack our boxes. I really think we finished this in record time. By 10:45 we were back in the lodge to check in for our penalty. I had left most of my stuff sitting at the table we had claimed earlier, thinking we would just be floating around the lodge and still able to putter about. Jim had other plans for us.
Initially we were pointed to 4 chairs set up along a wall and told to sit. He called the ARWS ref to clarify what was to be done. The ref was already asleep somewhere and slightly groggy when Jim spoke to him but was able to relay that we needed to sit at a table where we could not get up, go to the bathroom, or go near our gear for the full two hours. I had left my food, shoes, and remaining gear at our other table. Dang it. We were guided to a four-top table and told to sit together. We were not allowed to get up, move, or look at maps. Jim looked at his watch and set a two hour timer. He told us to keep an eye on the time just in case he got caught up with TA happenings. It was 10:50.
Within a few minutes we all had our heads on the table. Within ten minutes Dan had left his seat and was laying on the floor under the table. I guess the rules stated we couldn't leave the table, and he was still kinda at the table. Over the next 1.5 hours I listened to other teams chatting, Patty and Jim repeatedly explaining the o-courses to arriving teams, and Dan snore. I know I fell asleep off and on because I kept doing that sleep-jerk-twitch thing you do when your body is overly exhausted. At one point I heard Glen Lewis return from the long-hard course and comment on how tricky the nav was. Ha! Validation.
At one point Jim looked over and only saw two of us at the table. He suddenly realized he had a fugitive on the loose and began scurrying around the lodge looking for his escaped convict! Eventually he realized Dan had just bent the rules ever so slightly, but he was still "at the table." Multiple other teams kept looking at us, pitying our plight of having to sit in hard wooden chairs for such a long period of time. But honestly, those hours of rest were a blessing in disguise.
Toward the end of our penalty. Becky startled herself awake and twitched so violently it woke me up too. She realized our passport was in her shorts, which she had changed out of and put in her bike box, which could possibly already be on the truck or even heading back to North Adams! We waved Patty over and explained our dilemma. She wasn't sure what our options were, so she waved over Jim. They came through for us and decided if Jim went with Becky, to ensure all she did at her box was retrieve the passport, then no rules would be broken. He took this very seriously and stood right next to Becky as she dug through her bike box. She even had him hold a few things while she clamored for the precious passport.
At 12:50 on the dot, I called out to Jim that our two hours were up and he valiantly agreed to let us go from our prison-table. We jumped into action, collected our gear, used the bathroom and bundled up for the final upcoming 20-mile ride that Brent had repeatedly told teams, "Not to underestimate."
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