...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.

an uphill climb.

Today was the first day since the weekend that I made it up and down stairs relatively pain-free.

Not surprisingly, that made today the first day that my want to run (up, up, uphill) came creeping back in with a vengeance or, more to the truth, the first day that that urge wasn't drowned out by the ouch.

Now, navigating stairs is hardly the same as tackling trail ascensions but it's close enough to clear the fog to reveal summit daydreams.

I'm three weeks out from another trip west, this time to the Canyonlands region of southeastern Utah.  Can't wait, but need to get my feet back underneath me.

Underneath me and functioning, that is.

Bring on the baby steps of recovery...and dry soil.

week seventeen.

Let's all agree to skip right past week sixteen.  Treat it like the 13th floor in a high rise.  Per my physical therapist's orders, I did not run one single step.

Week seventeen would consist of a trip to the high desert of Escalante, Utah to attend the Mountain Hardwear Basecamp with the accompanied warning to NOT climb and think hard, really hard, about engaging in running of any sort.  If I could return from Utah no worse than I left Pennsylvania, aggressive therapy could begin on the following Monday and we'd see if working order could be restored.

Breathing in the rugged beauty of Utah while surrounded by the stoking energy of kindred spirits, I found myself lacing up my sneaks and giving things a go.  Surprised?  Me neither.

Still on East Coast time, I had no problems rising early on my first morning at Escalante Outfitters and heeding the directions given the night before to head right down the dusty road towards the nearby state park.  Even on a slight downhill, my lungs were feeling every inch of the 5812 feet of elevation.

Sliding past the trailhead gate, I initially veered away from Bailey's Wash, following instead a broad old farm road that skirted around the ridge line.  Almost immediately, I kicked up no less than 30 mule deer.  Most of the herd vanished over the hill but several remained on the horizon watching my slow approach.  I pushed the herd around two or three more bends before deciding to try to get up to higher ground. 

Huffing and puffing and progressing mostly on all fours (or at least three), I made it to the top of the ridge and turned to look back toward town.  The famed Grand Escalante Staircase was now visible in the distance.

Pleasantly surprised by how my Achilles felt, I dropped into the wash and settled into something more like an actual run.  A few stray sets of human footprints led the way past high red rock cliffs, scrub brush, tumbleweeds and small, silent pines.

I didn't set a great pace in the sandy track of the wash, but was pleased to return to camp with over seven pain-free miles.  With fingers crossed that I wouldn't be hobbled by the end of the day, I popped some Aleve, showered, stretched and joined new friends for a day of hiking along Pine Creek.

I awoke the next morning relieved to find no ill effects from the prior day.  Howling winds helped the easy decision to shelve any further running for the moment.  I spent the day exploring the Spooky and Peek-a-Boo slot canyons and managed to avoid doing anything too much like "climbing".

Knowing that I'd need to leave before the sun rose on Friday, I wanted to make the most of Thursday.  Feeling strong and encouraged by the continuing cooperation of my Achilles, I awoke shortly after 4:00 AM and began a 46-mile drive to the indescribable beauty of Bryce Canyon.

I literally did not see another set of headlights the entire way which was absolutely fine by me.  I passed through the unmanned gates and headed to Rainbow Point at the far end of the park road.  At more than 9100 feet, the point was certainly going to test my cardio.

There was plenty of snow still on the ground and route-finding was difficult as I tried to find and follow the Under the Rim Trail down towards the canyon floor.  The pace was slowed even further by my need to stop every few minutes to soak in the view and bask in the rising sun.

Neither words nor photos will do any justice, so I'll simply say that it was a miraculous day to be alive and I spent that hour and a half marveling at my surroundings and reflecting appreciatively on what a real privilege it was to be where I was at that moment doing something I love to do.

Finally returning to the Rainbow Point parking lot, I made a quick call back to camp to report where I was and that I was on my way.  I grabbed a coffee enroute and felt certain that I still had energy in the tank.

Shortly after hopping out of the car, I climbed into Jon Webb's station wagon and joined a small group headed to Lower Calf Creek for more running.  We settled into a shared rhythm and I didn't hesitate to offer a "maybe a little faster" when asked if the pace was satisfactory.  A moment or two later, I was eating those words as the increase left me gasping for air.  We may have been 4,000 feet lower than Rainbow Point but we were still much higher than what I'm used to and I struggled to adjust.  Jon was kind enough to settle back into something closer to our original pace without any prompting.  Arriving at the end of the path, I found him welcoming me to the amazing spectacle of Lower Calf Falls. 

I shrugged off my initial apprehension after dipping my hand in the pool at the base of the falls and decided to take a swim.  The icy water made it a short swim, though, at the urging of my companions, I did go in a second time in what proved to be a failed attempt to swim out beneath the falls.  The payoff was the shared laughter over the frozen state of my testicles.

Zak and Ed had joined me, Jon and Cory and a kindly day hiker snapped our photo in front of the falls. Soon thereafter, we set out again at a comfortable but solid pace, talking and laughing the entire way back to the trailhead.

Even after two separate runs, a good bit of climbing and a day of double-digit mileage, my legs felt great.  I was extremely thankful to not be favoring my Achilles in the slightest and relished having logged trail time at elevation.

Back in Pennsylvania, April is in the rear view.  It was, by far, my lowest mileage month to date in 2011 and came with several disappointments. It's hard to complain, however, when I was able to close the month with running I will remember, vividly and fondly, forever.