I have always loved hiking, backpacking, and being outdoors. Over the past couple of years, running has become increasingly important to me as a way to remain fit, manage stress, and explore new places. More recently, I have turned to trail running as it easily combines my love of the outdoors with my love for running. This trip report describes my longest trail running adventure to date around Mt. St. Helens.
This past Saturday, my cousin, Rick, and I set out to run the Loowit Trail #216 around Mt. St. Helens. This was my first ultramarathon and this challenging trail run pushed my body and mind beyond its limits. The route clocked in at around 31 miles (50k) with more than 6,600 feet of elevation gain.
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Admittedly, I was rather nervous about setting off on this adventure. First, the Loowit Trail is known to be challenging for its rocky terrain, elevation gain, and exposure. Second, while I have run three marathons in the past couple of years, I had never ran more than the marathon distance of 26 miles 385 yards. Third, although I have been running here and there this year, I was pretty nervous because I have not been training for any particular event, nor have I ran more than 15 miles at a single time this year. I knew that going from 15 miles to almost 31 miles, with several thousand feet of elevation gain along the way, would not be a cake walk by any means. Yet, with those things weighing on my mind, I woke up excited at 3:30am on Sept. 10, 2016 to load up the car, meet Rick, and drive northward from Portland to the June Lake Trailhead outside of Cougar, WA.
We hit the trail around 7am, and then began the climb up to June Lake. The waterfall caught us off guard, and we paused for a minute to take in its beauty before making the climb up to the Loowit Trail. Heading clockwise, we rock hopped our way up to Chocolate Falls, which I have visited before when summiting Mt. St. Helens recently in May 2016. From there, we started the big climb up to the Ptarmigan Trail, where the Loowit Trail finally leveled off on its route past Butte Camp Dome. At this point though, we had already gained more than 1,900 feet of elevation in 3.8 miles, and I had developed a hot spot on my right heal. This was when I really realized that I had broke a cardinal rule of running: not to go out and buy a new pair of shoes right before an event. Actually, I knew this beforehand I went out and bought a pair of the well-reviewed Saucony Peregrine 6 trailrunning shoes, but I needed shoes badly since my worn down road shoes weren't cut out for this adventure. I taped my right heal and the hotspot was fine, especially since our climbing was over... for now. Taking a break also afforded an opportunity to admire the view to the south of Mt. Hood.
Mt. Hood as seen from Mt. St. Helens. Photo: Jacob Sherman
But this adventure was destined to be a challenge that tested me physically and mentally. I first ran into problems as we continued running westward and hit mile 8.5. As Rick and I were running up a hill after climbing out of one of the many washouts, my left hamstring started to cramp up. Instantly, my stride was thrown off and I hobbled for a moment, trying to gather myself and assess what was wrong. I knew that I was not as trained up as I would prefer, but to start cramping this early seemed insane. With the first two marathons that I had run, I "hit the wall" pretty hard around mile 21 at the Portland Marathon in 2014 and at about mile 22 at the Avenue of the Giants in 2015. But here, I was only 8.5 miles into my 31 mile adventure, and I was cramping up already? Mentally, this completely threw me off my game. I was already nervous, but now I was really doubting my ability to pull this off. I guzzled some water and snacked on some food thinking I might be low on energy. As we continued toward mile 10 and the stunning overlook above the South Fork of the Toutle River, I endured cramps and considered how I might bail-out in a way that still allowed Rick to successfully finish the route.
Panoramic view of Mt. St. Helens and the South Fork of the Toutle River. Photo: Jacob Sherman.
At the overlook, we paused to take care of nutrition and enjoy in the amazing view. More than 1,500 feet below us stood the South Fork of the Toutle River and, beyond, a landscape that was obliterated by the cataclysmic eruption of Mt. St. Helens in 1980. To me, this was the point of no return. I could head back and call it a robust 20 mile day, or trudge forward. As I stared out on the scenery before me, my internal debate was interrupted by Rick saying, "let's keep moving, and get down to the river to refill our water."
Like that, we were off. As we flew downhill through giant groves of old growth trees that survived the 1980 eruption, I knew I was committed. There was no way I was going to climb back up and out of this canyon. When we reached the river, we quickly rock hopped across it, and settled down to refill our water. I was wearing Ultimate Direction's new SJ Ultra Vest 3.0, but after running 12 miles, my two 500ml bottles had run dry and I had not brought a bladder along. Big mistake. Needless to say, I was very happy to drink some water and refill my water bottles as we prepared for the next leg. Rick and I talked with four young guys who were backpacking the Loowit counter-clockwise, and we learned there wouldn't be water again until we neared the pass at Alpine Butte, which was about 8 miles ahead. Standing at the bottom of the river canyon, I imagined myself at the top of the trail, feeling strong and ready to move quickly across the somewhat flatter ground on the northside of Mt. St. Helens.
S. Fork Toutle River Canyon, looking eastward toward Mt. St. Helens. Photo: Jacob Sherman
But the climb out of the river canyon was brutal. We gained 1,000 feet of elevation in 1.75 miles and, as the trail started to level out, my body began to cramp up again. This time it was my calves and quadriceps. Like before, this physical affliction wrecked havoc on my mental state, which had improved significantly since we rested at the South Fork of the Toutle River. Now on relatively flat ground and about 13.5 miles into the ultra, I struggled to consistently run, hobbling and yelping aloud when the muscles in my legs would spasm—painfully and uncontrollably.
Psychologically, I was done. We were not even halfway around the mountain, and had already been running for more than 3 1/2 hours. My PR for the 26.2 mile marathon is 3:49:45, and here I was wading through my thoughts about how we would be on the Loowit Trail for at least another 4 more hours. No way. My body was in ruins. I began thinking about how I could bailout near Windy Ridge and hitchhike back to the car, still allowing Rick to finish the run. The scenario played over and over in my mind as we moved forward. Finally, at mile 15.5 I told Rick that I needed to sit down and rest. I sat silently for a few moments, and then said, "I don't think I can finish, man. I think I've got to bail at Windy Ridge. You can still do this though."
Rick listened quietyly and then responded, "With your cramps, I think you are pretty dehydrated. Drink this." He handed me a bottle of water that was enriched with Tailwind. I had never used the nutritional supplement before, but had heard about it from my colleague at Portland State University, Christof Tuescher, who is a very accomplished ultra runner. I guzzled the entire water bottle down. A few minutes later, the Tailwind kicked in and I started to feel like I was coming back to life. Rick proposed we keep moving forward; after all, we would get to a stream in a couple of miles and Windy Ridge still lay further ahead of us. We trudged on. As we headed toward the breach area where the volcanic explosion was perhaps most noticeable, I was tired but began to feel slightly rejuvenated. While I ran, I repeated two words over and over again: "pure guts."
In the blast zone with Spirit Lake and Mt. Adams in the background. Photo: Jacob Sherman
Mt. St. Helen's blast zone might as well have been the surface of Mars. Photo: Jacob Sherman
Looking into "the breach" the new lava dome is apparent, as well as the massive Crater Glacier that has built up over the past 36 years inside Mt. St. Helens. Photo: Jacob Sherman
We reached the North Fork of the Toutle River and we stopped for water. Rick told me to sit. He then filled several water bottles, and simply commanded, "Drink." He added, "When you are done with those, tell me, and I'll give you more." A few minutes later, I had drank almost 2 liters of water while enjoying some food and the stark yet majestic view of the crater.
Awhile later, we were back on our feet and running toward Windy Ridge Pass. As we climbed uphill, I told Rick that I had recovered and was thankful for the Tailwind and all the water. Clearly, I didn't have my hydration dialed in for this adventure. With my body tired but stable and my spirits elevated, I told Rick that I was ready to finish this thing. I was going to keep pushing beyond my limits, and would mot settle for a "Did not finish" (DNF).
I also told Rick a story that I have heard many times about how our grandfather, Ray Langston—an accomplished marathon runner in his own right—, used to give my mom a hard time for not training consistently for her cross country races or marathons in high school. Grandpa Ray would tell mom that she wasn't ready, but my mom would reply that she was going to do it and that she would still run the race, even if she had to do it on "pure guts." And she would. At 17 years old, my mom ran the Boston Marathon in just over 4 hours on "pure guts"—with no training for the prior 4 months because of an knee injury. I told Rick that this had been my mantra for the past several miles, and we shared a laugh about it. Rick peeled off to use the restroom, and I felt strong climbing the pass at Alpine Butte solo. I took in the view and, as I reached the top, I was elated by the sight of Mt. Rainier, letting off a giant "YEAH!!!" into the void.
Mt. Rainier from Windy Ridge Pass in the background with autumn kissed huckleberries in the foreground. Photo: Jacob Sherman
As we descended into the Plains of Abraham, I knew our time on the mountain was getting shorter and shorter. I enjoyed the flats as we ran toward Pumice Butte, where we stopped to take in an awesome view of Mt. Adams. Now, with less than 5 miles to go, we trudged onward, climbing in and out of several small canyons carved out by long dried-up creeks. I was tired, and it was not easy. Each gully and hill climb became its own journey. My legs began to cramp again, but despite that we moved onward. I walked/hiked the hills, and jogged the flats and downhill sections, but we were still moving forward. At some point, we noticed some other ultra runners closing in behind us. We tried to keep moving so as to not let them pass us, but they moved like elegantly gazelles, swiftly across the landscape. It was inevitable that they would catch us. We said "hello" to who I later found out was Sam Reed, a member of Altra's Endurance Team, and we then attempted to ride—or run—their coat tales home.
Nearing the June Lake Trailhead, we traversed fields of ripe huckleberries whose leaves were bursting orange, red, crimson, and all the colors in-between in the September summer sun. I did not stop to take a photo, but will have that absolutely stunning scenery branded upon my memory for a long time. Eventually, we were back at the June Lake Trailhead, and I jokingly stopped to kiss the sign. This had been the hardest run of my life. Physically, it had destroyed my body; mentally, it challenged me in ways that I could not previous imagine. I was exhausted and eager to get back to the car. We pressed on. Awhile later, we were back at the car, and celebrating our accomplishment.
Feeling a sense of accomplishment. Photo: Jacob Sherman
All in all, it took us 10 hours, 48 minutes to circumnavigate the some-odd 31 miles around Mt. St. Helens on the Loowit Trail from the June Lake Trailhead. During the run, I swore that I would never run another ultramarathon.
But as we made our way down the final stretch of trail, I reflected on the many important lessons that I had learned from our circumnavigation around Mt. St. Helens. Now, I am eager to apply them to the next ultra. We will see when that is...