...everything but the drinks.

I received a ridiculously generous invite from my Osprey sales rep to fly to Cortez, Colorado in April and join Osprey Packs on a trip into the canyons of southeastern Utah.


I and the other invitees would get to test packs and other gear, immerse ourselves in the culture that makes Osprey such a unique, inspiring manufacturer and, well, play.

Since getting back, I've started and stopped writing a recap blog at least a couple of dozen times.  Just like a western sky, free of the ambient light of urban sprawl, this trip was on a scale that's hard to capture on film (film?) or in print.

When my new friend, Sean McCoy, who I'd met on the trip published his review for Gear Junkie, I decided to bag making a full review of my own.  I would, however, definitely encourage you to read Sean's post:  Gear Junkie: Into the Depths

I decided instead, being a gear junkie myself, to snap a few photos of what I carried, wore, ate off of, etc. during the trip.  This type of thing may not be of interest to anybody, but it's exactly what I find myself most curious about when reading running, backpacking, adventuring reviews.

Sean carried the same pack that I did, the Aether 60, and gave it some love in his article, so I'll skip right past that.

With a weather report that promised clear skies and little to no chance of precipitation, all 14 members of the group decided to leave tents behind.  Our guide, Chris Barber, reportedly had a sizable tarp but it never made an appearance as we all slept under stunningly open skies.

My sleep set-up consisted of a borrowed Rab Neutrino Endurance 200 sleeping bag.  This is an 800-fill down mummy-shaped bag that has a pretty solid (in my book...I sleep warm) 32 degree temperature rating, packs down small and weighs less than 2 pounds.  Killer.  And Rab includes one of the sweetest, double-cinch waterproof stuff sacks I've seen.  I was super impressed and the buyer-in-me has me strongly considering adding the Rab line to Backcountry Edge's Spring 2013 assortment.  I'm a huge fan of sleeping bag liners and the life-extending boost that they give sleeping bags and I long ago fell in love with my Cocoon Silk Expedition Liner.  This also packs down to nothing, weighs a couple of ounces and justifies its inclusion on every trip.  I slept on the ultra-lightweight Klymit Inertia X-Frame inflatable sleeping pad and loved it as much as I expected to when I chose it for the trip.  My head rested on Exped's Air Pillow and you can insert every word I wrote about the liner here to know how I feel about it.

Osprey equipped each of us with a trio of SealLine Dry Sacks (2.5L, 10L and 30L) and it was a good thing too, as we hit an extended stretch in slot canyons on the last day that required first waist deep and then sternum deep (if you're as short as I am) wading.  I didn't actually end up dipping my pack, but it was nice to know everything was fully protected.  I'd brought my own SealLine eCase which I've been using for several seasons to protect my point-and-shoot.  I also brought along a couple of waterproof Granite Gear Air ZippDitty sacks which were perfect for keeping headlights, snacks, first aid and other gear organized.  These fit perfectly inside the hipbelt pockets on a couple of the packs I use at home.  The Aether 60 doesn't have hipbelt pockets, my one gripe, but these still came in handy for use inside the Aether's lid pocket.

Ah, my feet.  I hiked primarily in a pair of TrekSta Evolution II trail shoes.  I've been testing them for TrekSta along with a pair of their Edict running shoes and intend to post a far comprehensive review in the near future.  For now, suffice to say that these were hands down the most comfortable, responsive hiking shoes I've ever worn.  The Evolution II is a lower-profile version of TrekSta's award-winning Evolution Mid GTX.  I'm not a big fan of GORE-TEX (as hot as my feet get in standard mesh shoes, I start sweating at the very thought of a waterproof liner) and the Evolution Mid flirts with being a true boot and I just don't do boots.  I also made room in my pack for the New Balance 110's and was glad I did.  At the end of the long second day of crawling over/under rocks, rappelling down cliffs and navigating tilted canyon walls we reached a campsite atop an incredible sandstone shelf that (with a little creativity and a tack-on stretch in the wash below) served up a 3+ mile run.  These shoes absolutely shined on this surface and made me sad all over again at the news that the Slickrock 100 isn't being held this year.  Alas.  Throughout the trip, I wore DryMax socks.  Duh.


Yep, I just laid down a duh.

On the first night that we arrived in Cortez, our group of 14 was split into smaller "cooking groups" and each group had an MSR Reactor Stove System to use for cooking.  I've been a fan of the system since it launched and, if it wasn't so spendy, I may have invested in one of my own somewhere along the way.  Anyway, with the stove (and food!) provided, we only needed to worry about bringing utensils, cups, flatware and whatever else we thought we'd need for mealtimes.  I kept things simple.  I made friends with the Snow Peak 600 Titanium Double-Wall mug a long, long time ago and it waits on the counter for me each morning, accompanies on my drive to work and keeps me company at my desk all day long.  It also tags along on every backpacking trip, including this one.  I also brought the Optimus Folding Spork, a collapsible, lightweight and surprising little durable utensil.  My meal kit was rounded out with my two Guyout Design Squishy Bowls.  Yes, that IS what they are called.  Laugh if you want, but this little malleable silicone bowls are a backpacker's dream come true.  Trust me.  To ward off my addicted tremens, I also packed plenty of Honey Stinger Waffles...if I had any left, I'd have included them in the photo.  Yum. 

As warm as it was, I didn't carry a lot of clothes.  I'm not sure I even needed it, but I did bring along my lightweight Outdoor Research Transcendent Sweater and, I must admit, it was nice to have this low-profile down piece at night while we sat beneath the stars and passed around the wine (yes, we hauled along quite a bit of wine...in Platypus bottles, cause we're backpackers, see).  In the mornings, I slipped into Rab's super lightweight Boreas Pull-On softshell.  There's not much to it, but it's one of those great pieces that adds just enough warmth and separation from cool air.  And, it takes up very little space inside a pack.  I had a breathable, brimmed Mountain Hardwear hat (the name escapes me) that I wore during the day to keep off sun and glare and another of their beanies that I wore at night to ward off the chill.  A pair of Native Silencer sunglasses gave further protection from the sun and the Mammut S-Flex headlamp served as my light source at night.  I'm not a big fan of sunglasses though I fully respect the protection that they give.  The Silencers do their job and are fairly un-obnoxious as performance eyewear goes.  The S-Flex is hardly the brightest or most feature-rich lamp that I own but I appreciate how lightweight it is and how small it is when all I need is a little bit of extra visibility around a campsite.

Osprey gave us one final parting gift and it was a sweet one, a very limited edition embroidered Hornet 32.  This is one wickedly-light (1 lb, 5 oz) day pack that can be used with or without its lid and is ready-made for fast-and-light pursuits, be that running, biking, fast-packing or whatever else you have in mind.  Good stuff.  It didn't accompany us on the trip itself, but deserved a mention nonetheless.

That was pretty much my full rig.  That and the wine.

whew.

I'd kept my plans to myself all week long, as though not saying them aloud would keep my ailing arches from knowing what I planned to ask of them and, surprised, they would rise to the occasion.  They were going to be up to it or they weren't and that was that.  Besides, you can't keep secrets from your body.  No matter how remotely any given point lies from your brain, it gets the word.

Every word.

So come Saturday morning every inch of me was well aware that I was gonna try and get in a 20+ mile run.  Big deal, right?  I know, but my confidence had grown a bit shaky and I really couldn't afford to start and not finish a moderately long run.

I needed this one.

A mile-and-a-half into the run, I was feeling good.  The sun had crept into the sky and the initially rock-riddled section of the Appalachian Trail between Swatara Gap at Route 72 and Route 443 in northern Lebanon County was beginning to change over to grass and hardpack.  A break in the woods led to a marshy stretch spanned by a cleverly crafted dual-track section of planks. 

This is a view that differs considerably from what I've seen on the AT in Pennsylvania and I found myself growing more a more stoked.

After crossing over a road or two, there was a long sliver of singletrack that snaked through some open meadows.

After reentering the woods on the far side, I began working my way up to the top of Second Mountain on a meandering technical track that was steep but totally runnable.  I couldn't have been much more thrilled.

Running across the ridge line of Second I could see the steep drop into Rausch Gap and a wicked gas line climbing straight up from the gap to the top of Stony Mountain across the valley.  I'm pretty sure this is the backside of the power line that resides in the middle of the Buzzards Marathon course.

Looks like a beast.  A beautiful beast with whom I hope to one day do battle.

After several hundred yards, the AT starts to tumble downward, no switchbacks on this stretch, into St. Anthony's Wilderness and the ruins of the once-upon-a-time mining/railroad town of Rausch Gap.  I was only 5 miles into my wandering but I made special note of the fact that I'd have to trudge back up this section sooner or later if I was ever going to return to the car.

It was lovely down in the Gap with the Rausch Creek tumbling through an old stone arch bridge and the April trees beginning to push new blooms.  I still hadn't seen a soul and decided not to force the issue by taking the spur trail to the Raush Gap Shelter though curiosity sat bedevilingly on my shoulder.

Onward.

From the Gap, the Appalachian Trail begins a gentle sustained climb toward the summit of Stony Mountain.  I'd come in the other direction with Jefferson back in July but this side was strikingly different in that it was in no hurry to get where it was going and didn't offer nearly as much damage underfoot.

In other words, it was just what I needed, as the miles began to pile up.  During the week, I'd considered getting the whole way to the junction with the Horseshoe Trail as that's where I'd departed the AT the year prior.  That was going to require a run totally something close to or slightly longer than 30 miles, however, and I'd given myself a hard 9:00 AM turnaround time to ensure that I could get back to the family for a day of play.

I did make it to a second set of ruins at Yellow Springs.  There's a cool trail registry here and, still not having seen anyone, I decided to check out the most recent entries.

As beautiful as the weather had been, there were only a few entries. Bummer.  I scratched in a sentence or two of my own and slid the journal back in the box and settled into breakfast.

Refueled I jumped back onto the trail, continuing to head west.  At this point I was creeping towards that 9:00 end of the road but decided to get in as much mileage as I could.

I would've made it further than I eventually did except, as happens to me, I found myself having to heed nature's call.  And not for relief of the bladder, if you know what I mean.

I hopped off the trail and found a spot to hunker down behind a rock and a tree.  And, yes, of course, the first human sounds of the morning began approaching from the trail.  Wouldn't you know it, I'd managed to not account for a turn in the trail and the very first hiker of the day had a pretty decent view of me, well, defecating.  Looked me right in the eye, he did, though, based on his squinting, I've got a feeling he didn't see much detail.  But he sure was pointed in the right direction and I soon recognized that I would soon be running him down from behind as I made the return trip eastward.  There isn't much glamour in trail running to begin with, but this scenario is definitely not what I envision when I imagine a great day in the woods.  All part of it, though, I suppose.

You're welcome for their being no pictures to accompany the last paragraph.

Onward.

On the way back I began seeing a few more hikers and passed as quickly as possible by the solo hiker who'd witnessed my bathroom break.  For the most part, though, I continued to have the trail to myself and had myself a blast, moving steadily if not swiftly.

I took one more stop at the bridge over Rausch Gap and dangled my feet in the air while knocking down a Honey Stinger waffle and some Gatorade. 

The day was beginning to get away from me and it was time to get back at it, crawl back up to the top of Second Mountain and cruise back into Swatara Gap.  A sign tacked to the tree gave me pause but I figured my being on two legs was sufficient to allow me passage.

I intentionally hiked most of the next mile as I really did hope to run hard the last several miles and didn't want to lay waste to that plan by trying to hammer out the uphill.  Near the top I couldn't resist and sunk my teeth into a little bit of brisk climbing.  It was a short enough stretch that I was able to keep moving the legs once I reached the top out.

I quick-stepped downhill and pushed hard across the open sections of singletrack.  Once I reached the jumbly stretch just before Swatara Gap, I did slow my pace to pick my spots and make sure that tired legs didn't cause a misstep that I'd regret this close to the end of a good long run.

My new TrekSta Edicts (more on these in a subsequent post) were proving to be the bee's knees and my arches and legs had held up just fine.  I hadn't stopped the clock for any rests, breakfast or that traumatic (not really) pit stop, so I was pretty pleased with the final time.

When I ran, I ran strong and without any pain.  I felt happy.  Maybe not as happy as the kids would the next day after hunting eggs and digging into their Easter baskets, but pretty darn happy.