The Pursuit of Madness: Running Ruapehu

Approximation of the Round the Mountain Track (blue line and elevation profile), and the southern part of the Northern Circuit (red line).  I began and ended at Whakapapa Village (red arrow), and went counter-clockwise. 

Before deciding to do the Round the Mountain Track in a day, I talked about it with a couple of coworkers.  One of them, at the end of the conversation, wished me luck in my "pursuit of madness."  This trip was my longest mountain run, and while there was a lot of doubt after a finishing a challenging marathon of trail, with another 20 miles to go, I am confident that more madness must be pursued.

I will start with the details.  The trail, according to the team I finished with, was 74.99 kilometers, or about 46.5 miles.  I had anticipated doing this distance in not more than 16 hours, owing to a small amount of physical difficult, and a great deal of mental instability, it took about 18 hours.  There was at least 6,500 feet of climbing (2,000 meters according to runningwildnz.com, 9,000 feet according to my highly inaccurate Google Earth track, above).  To put it in terms of marathons, it was six miles short of doing the Equinox, then doing the Equinox again, with the same amount of climbing.  The difference is that the Equinox is on smooth trail in comparison.

On Friday night, I got off the phone with Sarah at about 23:00, set my alarm for 03:00, and went to sleep.  When my alarm went off, I was slow to start, but I was out the door by about 04:30, heading for Tongariro National Park.  About an hour and fifteen minutes later, I was parked at the trail head, having scoped the end of the trail.  I used the restroom, and was on the trail at about 06:00.

The trail begins in the forest, which was slightly overgrown with ferns full of flies that had nested for the night.  In these sections, running through seemingly constant spiderwebs, there was endless buzzing from the flies that were disturbed by my running through their perches.  The flies' black bodies were invisible in my headlamp, buzzing around my ankles, and the experience was disquieting.  After the insect harassment in the forest, the trail emerges onto boardwalks through some alpine bogs.

The boardwalks sparkled with frost and dew in the predawn light, their turns and uneven surfaces a shimmery serpent through the landscape.  On sections of well built, dry boardwalk, the pace can be dialed to 11.  It was an essential part of the plan to make it to Waihohonu Hut before sunset.  Unfortunately, I found that on sections of frosty or wet boardwalk, I had to gingerly corner, and take stairs slowly, as the wood was slick enough that I felt each step slip as I pushed off.   There were moments of concern, even at this early hour, that if the boardwalks did not dry out soon, it might become a problem.  These were fleeting thoughts, as I could not be bothered with such concerns at this point, because every vista was a stunning interplay of light, shadow and alpenglow.

After crossing the Whakapapaiti River for the third time, I hit my first direct sun of the day.  Continuing across the valley, and climbing the far ridges, I was rewarded with views of Mt. Tongariro, Mt. Ngauruhoe, Mt. Ruapehu, and Mt. Taranaki.  These stunning views, combined with the rugged trail, kept the morning amazing, and my only thoughts were of the prospect of maybe having started out on another of my greatest runs.  Soon, I saw the Ohakune Mountain Road, and I was surprised and ecstatic.  Somehow, even with the slick boardwalks, I was way ahead of schedule, then the trail turned in the wrong direction.

Struggling over rough trail, I was starting to grump at the sinusoidal path that I was apparently starting to take to get not very far.  Even so, the views were incredibly, and my legs were feeling strong over what some have described as the most difficult section.  I, perhaps unwisely, even ran some of the steep ups just to see how it felt.

I lost the trail at the river crossing just before the second hut, and went too far upstream, before releasing my mistake.  I crossed, back tracked, then, back on the trail, back tracked again in the direction of my mistake on the other side of a stand of pines.  It did not matter at this point, as the view was constantly back dropped by Ruapehu towering ahead of me.  I had started to wonder when I would hit the infamous waterfall, and the moment I saw it, I knew I was heading for it.  At the base, I filled my water from the mineral-rich, but presumably parasite-free river, and scrambled up the outcrop.  After the waterfall, I had fun in the rough terrain, pondering if it was really better for DOC to not make a trail, and have people trail swarm.

Upon reaching Ohakune Mountain Road, I shook out my shoes and socks, had a snack, and started down the tarmac.  The steep hard surface was too much for my knees, so the steep downhill sections of road were as slow as the steep, trail-less climbs of the previous section.  I made decent time, but was not eating enough, so when I reached the trail again, I had to stop and eat about a thousand calories.

The calories sat in my gut, and I had to take it easy.  The groomed trail was a perfect place to digest, while maintaining a good pace.  I had decided to eat at Blyth Hut, but when I reached the turn off for the hut, I decided to push on, rather than take a side trip.  Now worried about water, I dialed back the food consumption, and struggled with this mistake over deeply eroded trail with the most poorly constructed boardwalk ever conceived by humans.

It was somewhere struggling over crappy boardwalk that I lost my breath.  I found that even the slightest incline put me at my cardiovascular limit.  I started walking even more, but I was not recovering my breath.  I arrived at the next hut, confused about my breathing, and worried about time.  I ate another 1500 calories, drank and refilled water, and talked a little bit with some backpackers.  They said that there was one big valley between this hut and Rangipo Hut, but other than that it was rolling.  I packed up, took a couple of out of breath strides, and slowed back to a walk to let my food digest.

I walked into the Rangipo "Desert."  I entered the first valley, then the second larger valley, then the third larger and steeper valley, then started to wonder if the backpacker's rolling was how a Sherpa may describe the Rockies.  My breath started to come back, but my motivation was lacking.  I was able to run on the flats and the down, but found that running the downs was nearly impossible when staring at the wall awaiting on the other side.  I was struggling with cooling temperatures, thickening clouds, wind, and accepting that whoever put the pickets out to mark the trail had decided to just get it done with the fewest pickets possible, the grade of the trail be damned.

I arrived at the Rangipo Hut feeling rejuvenated.  A hiker came out of the hut, talked to me for a while, called me, "some kind of crazy," and headed back inside to sit by the fire.  I jogged into the twilight worried about time.  Some amazing scenery coaxed me along, but it was more a fast walk than a run, then the sun went down, the temperature dropped, and I was alone, in the dark, with only thoughts of self-pity and doubt.

Like Alice down the rabbit hole, the bottom dropped out, and I wondered when I would hit the bottom.  The trail then turned northeast, away from my destination.  Though the stars were bright, the darkness of my own tired mind consumed me.  I walked, more and more slowly, partially owing to difficulty route finding, and partially owing to my mental wall.  I walked from picket to picket.  Ones with reflective markers at the top were easy to spot, and I would be lured forward to them.  Sometimes picket after picket would be lying on the ground, reflector gone, or facing into the ground, and I would hold a straight line, hoping that there were no turns.  On two occasions, I headed back to the previous picket to try a new line, and in doing this, I saw headlamps coming down the trail behind me.

For a moment I thought my eyes deceived me, then I thought I must have imagined it - lights from the hut, foreshortened in the darkness maybe?  I saw them the second time, and I knew someone was giving chase.  I felt a fleeting surge of energy, as a rabbit in the line of a sprinting carnivore, but it was over before it began.  I then wondered who would be out here.  Was it a SAR mission, and I was leading a team off track?  A ranger concerned about someone heading on into the darkness?  A hunter willing to take a sound shot in the dark?  I sang some Greg Brown, but not even that could bring me out of my stupor.

As the vegetation changed a very cold breeze came up.  The doldrums intensified, and I began to fantasize about building a miserable shelter to bivouac in until the morning light.  I stopped, on an incised section of trail, protected from the wind by scrub and erosion.  I forced myself to eat unwelcome calories, and layered up.  I walked on, and warmed up slightly.  I kicked the hopelessness, but was now accepting the idea of slogging through the night back to the car.

I heard voices.  I heard them again.  Then I saw the lights.  Then I heard the footsteps, they were...running!


The light split into three, a woman said, "hello," and three runners broke pace, and walked with me.  We chatted about our plans.  They had, apparently, been hearing reports throughout the day of an American running well ahead of them.  At Rangipo hut, they were told I was not far ahead, and now they had caught me.  They offered any assistance I needed, which I did not, but allowed me to chase them for a while.

They trotted on, at a comfortable pace, walking the hills and rough stuff.  A little slower than my initial pace, but a world faster than what I had fallen into.  At the brief stops, we talked a bit.  They had been taking the turns hitting the wall, taking turns setting pace, and keeping each other going.  They mostly talked, and I listened, uncomfortable to be adding myself to their group.  On the third stop, I asked if I was not intruding too much by joining, and they unanimously welcomed me into the crew.  We ran on.

For the rest of the night, I stuck to the back, enjoying the motivation of being in a group of people.  A group of people who were doing something as crazy as I.  Having many of the same problems that I was.  They would lament a climb, a stairway, and over-groomed trail.  They under estimated distances.  With each setback, one of the group spurred on to let another fall back.  Two of them were also constantly motivated to keep ahead of the one with gas.

Choosing to mostly stay at the back of the pace line, feeling welcomed, but not wholly part of the group, I suffered through his zesty off-gassing, fueled by whatever nightmare he must have been eating all day to keep his calories up.  When it got bad, I would fall back, then catch up when he shifted forward in the group.  Eventually I found myself in the middle of the group, and it was always happy to be ahead of the aromatic events that periodically interrupted thoughts, pace, and breathing.

Towards the end of the trail, they started dreaming of the showers and beds in their hotel room at the trail's end.  I started dreading the drive home.  We came over the rise above Taranaki Falls, to see the twinkling lights of Whakapapa Village, and cruised the last length of trail back into civilization.  We shook hands, congratulating each other on a run well done.  They went into their hotel wishing me a safe drive back to Taupo.  I plodded to the parking lot, finishing my 18 hour day at 00:00.  I changed out of my running clothes, into the delightful embrace of cotton, emailed people I was back at the car, and headed for Taupo.

I did not make it far.  The car was warm, the seat was comfortable, and the night was dark.  I pulled off the road and took a nap.  Ninety minutes or so later the car had gotten cold, and I was awake enough to carry on driving.  The drive was slow, and felt endless.  I got back to my house, took a sleepy shower, and went to bed, 24.5 hours after I had gotten out of it.

***
A week later, the events seems strangely distant, and almost dream like.  Much has happened in that week, including planning for some more runs (none that long on the horizon).  Even with the dreamy memories of vivid stars in the darkness, I have tried to point my thinking to lessons that I can learn to make the next run even better.

Sarah and I run with an ultralight bag from Cooks Custom Sewing.  The bags are light, and when packed well, reasonably comfortable.  I am not entirely sure what possessed them to design some of the straps as they did, and my lightly bruised collar bones assure me that there are improvements to be made to the design.  Regardless, it seems like it is one of the most innovative ultralight bags owing to its utter simplicity.  There is a roll top bag from OR that I am curious to try, as I think a roll top could solve some of the issues of the CCS bag.  All the same, running behind these three others, I could not help but notice that two of three of them had the Osprey Talon 22, the bag that dominated the field on the Tour Divide.  I am skeptical of this made-in-China, do-it-all bag, but as Pirsig points out that at some point, when you realize everyone is heading in the same direction, you start to wonder if you should go that way too.

I am not sure that doing this sort of trip is the something that everyone else is heading off to do, and the ones who do all using the same pack is not necessarily an indication of what is best.  I do not know if I will switch any gear because of what others are using, but one thing I did see in the other runners, as I have seen in other endurance events, is that with the exception of a few who are driven to win, a group of people who are all the same type of crazy is the best way to keep your body going, when it wants to stop.  I rarely find one other person to do these things with, so I feel like I need to maximize my time with those who will.  I have tried to tailor my life to the pursuit of many things, but after running Ruapehu, I think I need to fill my life with those people who will join me in the pursuit of madness.