From: RDJT76A@prodigy.com (MR RICHARD J LIMACHER) Date: Mon, 4 Aug 1997 17:45:26, -0500 Subject: Legend of Pecos Phooey at WS100, Part 10 Welp, frendz, haw 'bout dis fer a swetch? Instidda "kriticks," naw Ah gots "fanz"! An' summa deze heer fanz wanna kno whud happint ta da bootyfull Kraut gal widda mikrow-skoppick shorrtz mayd odda kleenix. Welp, whut kin Ahs tellya? Ah hadda code in ma node...an she hilpt me!! (Naw, shooks. Y'all jus' hafta keeppon reedin'. Ma frend inna blue shorrt-shorrtz iz a-cumin' bak ta dissheer "Lidgind"--probbly in Purt 13!) CANYUNS!!! ========== Good Lord. This is a foreign-sounding concept if ever I heard one. I live near the "big city" (Chicago) and the closest thing to a canyon we have here is LaSalle Street. Except there, generally, you find yourself walking along ONLY the bottom (that is, street level) of the "canyon" with NEVER any desire whatsoever to face right and scale up the fifty-story building you might find there; OR, for example, already BE on top of the fifty-five-story building to your left and then RUN DOWN the face of that building, wade through the mud puddles and cross the street (after waiting for the light, of course, so as not to be smooshed by the next taxi or bus), and THEN climb up the face of that aforementioned fifty-story building; and finally continue on your way like this by running along the rooftops of all those buildings--for ONE HUNDRED MILES!!! And yet, oddly enough, this is precisely what they're asking you to do at the great Western States Endurance Run, each and every June, in California. Where, I hasten to add, the very tallest of those "buildings" that you're asked to climb tops out roughly at 9,000 feet--which is NINE TIMES TALLER than the TALLEST building in Chicago! You wonder, perhaps, at my wonder? Let me also tell you this. I honestly believe it would be EASIER to do what I just described (run down the OUTSIDE of one skyscraper, cross the street, and then WALK up the OUTSIDE of another skyscraper) than it is to, for example, successfully negotiate Duncan Canyon. Let me tell you something about the great course of the great Western States 100-Mile Endurance Run. They say, well, (and by the way, just who in the hell IS this "they" anyway?) that Western States is a "downhill course." Yeah, and, like, London Bridge is in Arizona and Elizabeth is still Queen of Canada (just look at their money!) and Milwaukee lies WEST of Chicago. (You don't believe me? Try reading the road signs along I-94 through my "big city.") So tell me another half-truth. Sure it's a "downhill course." You wanna know HOW it's a "downhill course"? It's because of them damn CANYONS! First, you're on the east side of the canyon; then you climb down that side of the canyon, which has a total depth of, say, 2,896 feet; then you cross the inevitable stream-- or RAGING RIVER--at the bottom; and then you proceed to climb back up the other side, which has a total height of, say, 2,886 feet. So there you have it: Total "net drop in elevation" from one side of the canyon to the other is TEN LOUSY FEET! If you then string along a fairly endless supply of such canyons and such kinds of "net drops" for, say, ONE HUNDRED MILES...why sure, then you have a "downhill course"! Yes! And--guess what--London Bridge IS in Arizona and Queen Elizabeth IS all over that Canadian money (just exactly WHY, we have no idea) and Milwaukee DOES lie west of Chicago, because that's precisely what all the road signs say! Therefore, the great Western States Endurance Run...is run on a downhill course. Tell you what. Drop everything and send me an e-mail. I've got some GREAT luxurious resort-type property to sell you in Death Valley. So now, let me sell you a little on the "idea" of running down-then-up something as steep and as terrifying as Duncan Canyon...all the while telling yourself that THIS IS FUN!!! Your first clue that you've encountered a canyon is, yes, a couple of steps in a downward direction. At first you think, "Ah! Downhill! A break! Now I can RUN!" But then you see what you have to run on. You have to run on a DIRT path at a teeth-clenching downgrade full of ruts and cuts made by (probably) running water from all the winter snow runoffs or (improbably-- but that's why they do it) spinning tires from all the mountain bikes. You see rocks in your way. You see POINTY rocks. You see boulders. You see POINTY boulders. You see jagged tree roots. You see pieces of gym shoe. You see bloodstains. You go, "Holy smokes! I'd better grab onto something!" (And you'd better, too, before you start REALLY chipping away at your teeth.) All of which tends to slow you down even SLOWER. Now, you can't run the uphills; the straightaways are LOADED with rocks and stuff to puncture the very soles of your shoes; and then you discover that you can't even run the downhills--for fear of losing your very life, if not your three-thousand- dollar bridgework. Wouldn't it be interesting, however, if I could report to you now that I saw--splayed across some downhill rock--a rather unique silky piece of "short" blue fabric? Well, that may be interesting, but it sure wasn't true. The only fabric that you might find out there now would be red, and it would have come from MY shorts! Not hers! Speaking of puncturing shoe soles, I remember this sweet young lady who happens also to appear in my "proof" photo taken at Cougar Rock. She, too, was wearing blue shorts. Ah, but also a long-sleeved sweatshirt. Anyway, at Cougar she was behind me, but LONG before Duncan she passed me, but SHORTLY before Duncan I came back upon her. She was sitting off to the side of the trail. She had her right shoe off. And she had taken the tire patch kit out of her glove box. "Flat shoe?" I asked as I slogged by. "Huh?" was her incredulous response. "Never mind," I said. "It's just a concept." "Oh?" she wondered. "You'd have had to have been there to understand it." "Oh?" she asked. "Ware?" "Inside my head." "Oh," she said. "But never mind," I said. "That is truly a place you DON'T want to go." "Oh," she said in broken English. "I'm fom Sveden." Well, I can only assume she got her shoe fixed (or else it was her foot) and was able to finish the race, because I never saw her again. Oh ja. Shooks! But getting back to those canyons...the other "clue" that you have telling you that you are about to enter "The Twilight Zone," or, "Duncan Canyon" (whichever comes first) is that you CANNOT see the bottom of it; nor, once you're down there, can you possibly see the top! Oh, you might argue that you could always look up and see where the light's coming from (the sun, say), but I might just as easily argue that these canyons are sooooooo deep that you CANNOT EVEN SEE THE LIGHT! Oh yes! And there are still more canyons to climb-down-up after dark! So NOW whuddaya say? I'd say you'd say, "Forget THIS nonsense. I've got better things to read, uh, do." OK, one last comment about Duncan Canyon. There is, incredibly enough, an aid station AT THE VERY BOTTOM OF IT! (See what I wrote about aid station logistics last time.) And the good volunteers at this particular aid station apparently have a great sense of humor because, for at least a half a mile before the aid station itself, they had put up signs all along the path. (Anyone remember "Burma-Shave"? :) "THIS IS ABOUT" "A RUNNER NAMED JILL" "WHO THOUGHT SHE'D DIED" "AT THE BOTTOM OF THE HILL" "BUT YOU CAN LET OUT" "A COUPLE OF CHEERS" "BECAUSE SHE WAS SAVED" "BY US VOLUNTEERS!" "--WELCOME TO DUNCAN CANYON AID STATION" (Well, all right. This may not have been the precise wording of all their signs--but they did have some, and they did put them out along the trail. Trust me.) [Oh, how un-wrong you might not go if you couldn't trust me!] Well, after I stumbled my way down there...(Lordy, it was a loooooooooog stumble!)...the good volunteers all welcomed me, of course, and fed me and gave me to drink and recited to me an admonition or two and suggested I look on High for guidance--but I still couldn't see any light. And neither did I witness any more signs and wonders. But then I noticed that they had in fact put out one other sign: "NEXT AID STATION ROBINSON FLAT 6 MILES HA HA STRAIGHT UP!" (Well, maybe that wasn't the precise wording, but the message was clear: "Welcome, suckers, to THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CANYON. No, not The Dark Side, necessarily, but the TOUGH SIDE! And you thought coming down was hard? Ha!") Before I left that (ha-ha) mirthful firth in the middle of the forest frequented by Robin and His Band of Merry Men (and, to be sure, Women Also), I happened to ask "Mr. Hood": "Hey, HOW in the hell DID ALL OF YOU GET HERE?" "Jeeps," he said with a grin. "Good," I said with a frown. "Can I borrow one?" "What?" he asked incredulously. "You wanna forfeit? Right now you're in three-hundredth-and-fifth place!" "Oh joy." "You can still CATCH THE LEADERS!" Well, ha ha ha. I'm sure you'll agree. Humor like this we can ALL do without. [Back shortly with Part 11: "The Fiasco at Robinson Flat."] Rich Limacher RDJT76A@prodigy.com THE ULTRA NUTTY TROUBADOUR