Wilson Creek Frozen 50

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Long before the sun came up, Emily Berriochoa and her army of volunteers were unpacking gear, setting up aid stations, heating up soup and instructing parking attendants. And long before that Tony Huff and friends were marking all 32 miles of the route with yellow and green tape. So much goes in to a race like this and it was amazing that it all seemed to work so smoothly.
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The route itself was comprised of two loops, one roughly 20 miles in length that included Wilson Peak about midway, and a shorter 10 mile loop that included Wilson Creek and the Cheesiness Wall. Lynette and I had explored a lot of the area on horseback, but we hadn’t been to either of these features so I was looking forward to seeing new territory.
I headed out on my own the weekend before the race to get a better idea of what I was getting myself into. I had my sights set on Wilson Peak, but the roads and trails were so muddy I could hardly stand up on them so I headed out cross country and stayed on the rocks and grass as much as possible. By the time I got to the summit of Wilson Peak, the wind was howling around 50 mph and I was getting pelted with sleet and hail. The antenna array at the top of the peak sounded like a jet engine running full speed just before take-off. I was ready for bad weather though and ended up hiding behind a boulder and putting on all my fleece and wind layers just to keep from freezing. I had some seriously second thoughts about doing the entire 32 miles if the weather didn’t improve. It would have been a challenge yes, but fun? No.
The race was scheduled to start at 7:30 so I arrived around 6:00. Walking from my car to the starting line on race day, I was absolutely thrilled that it was good ten degrees colder with than the weekend before, and there was no wind and none in the forecast! It was thick with fog though. The Treasure Valley was in the middle of one of its winter inversions and we were only a few miles from the Snake River making the visibility especially bad.
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Having never done this before, I was a little unsure of what I should bring or what to wear, so I just made my best guess. I wanted to dress light, since I tend to overheat when working out, but I also didn’t want to get caught off guard if things turned nasty like the weekend before. So I wore light cloths and carried a couple thin layers in my backpack. The gloves were essential to start with and to keep my knees from freezing I rigged up some knee wraps from an old pare of long johns. I realized right away that they wouldn’t stay up on their own so I pinned them to my shorts with spare safety pins from the bib box. They looked pretty dorky, but seemed to do the job. Soon after the start of the race I warmed up enough that I didn’t need them.
The thick fog from the inversion made everything feel a little eerie and quiet and coated the sage brush with a thick layer of hoar frost. I didn’t realize it at first but it was also coating my hair and people began to comment at my frosty top. No, that’s not all natural white hair!

Both the 50k racers and 20-mile racers started together for a total of around 140 runners at the starting line. After a failed attempt for a shotgun start, I suddenly realized that I’d left my headlamp in my gear cache. I bolted out of line, searched my stash for several seconds before realizing it was in my backpack the whole time. They finally gave up on the shotgun and Emily counted down from ten to start the race. I never did make it to the start banner, instead opting to play catch up along a side trail for the first few hundred feet. It wasn’t until after the race that I had the shocking idea that I might have forgone my official race time by bypassing the start line sensor, but if that was a problem, someone fixed it without a word from me.

It’s funny how quickly 140 people running up hill can spread out. By the time we got to the first single-track people were already in their pecking order, or pretty close anyway. Which was good, because passing on a single track in the dark with the multitude of ground-dwelling critter villages all around, one false step could easily bring a foot race to a quick conclusion.

Part way up Wilson Peak, we broke through the top of the inversion just in time to witness a gorgeous sun rise over the valley. The view was a good excuse to stop for a few seconds and enjoy the beauty of the day. As for me, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to pass up the gawkers and pressed on.

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I brought two liters of water knowing that the aid stations would be few and far between, but I was a little surprised at just how far and few they were. The first “station” was just before the summit of Wilson Peak, and consisted of a couple of guys sitting on their four wheelers. They’re only job was to haul the bodies down if need be. I started to second guess my own water rationing. Would I run out?

The last quarter mile to the top of Wilson Peak was riddled with loose gravel and stones, which was fine on the ascent but this was the only section that we had to back-track on, and running down it was treacherous. This fact was painfully illustrated to me and my local group, when an oncoming runner suddenly tripped and cartwheeled right in front of us. He quickly bounced to his feet and instead of fretting about his scrapes and contusions, started frantically searching for his “army man”. I had no idea what he was talking about or why this little plastic fella was so important, but we all started searching the trajectory that his toy might have taken until it was found. A few minutes later I reached the summit and realized what the big deal was about. It was mandatory that each racer set foot on the summit, but in lieu of a checkpoint they had a bag full of toy soldiers. Each runner was to transport one soldier to the next aid station as proof that you had indeed made it to the summit. I grabbed my soldier and pocketed it, taking no chance that he would become air-borne.

The second half of the 20-mile loop was mostly downhill and fast. I was alone on the trail quite often, or at least it seemed that way once we slipped back into the fog, but still I knew who was around me as we played leap from for most of the day. I think about half of the route was on single-track trails, the other half on 4×4 tracks. Some of it was on such lightly traveled trails you would have missed them entirely if it weren’t for the ribbons that marked the route.

It was nice to have the 20-mile loop first, so I could bail if I needed to and skip the 10-mile loop, but I was feeling pretty good and only stopped long enough to drink some chicken soup broth, eat a small slice of pizza, and replace my empty water bottles with full ones.

The second loop went farther to the east than I’d ever been and dipped into the Wilson Creek canyon for a couple miles. Lynette and I had heard about the “Chinese Wall” and kept an eye out for it while exploring on horse back, but never found it. As the trail lead me up to the edge of the canyon I suddenly realized that I’d found it and I thought this little canyon was one of the most picturesque areas in the Wilson Creek trail system. I knew I’d be taking Lynette back there on our next horse outing.

I was twenty five miles into the race and still having fun. After Another long easy climb and the trail merged back into the 30-mile loop for the final approach to the finish line. I actually though I still had two or three miles to go when the finish-line tents emerged from the fog. I couldn’t believe it. I was still running and feeling great as I picked up the pace for the last small hill to reach the finish.

The Wilson Creek Frozen 50 was over. I wasn’t even back to my car and already anticipating the next trail race, and the one after that too. I still can’t believe I went fifty years before finding out how much fun trail running can be!