To Hell and Back Again
An Adventure in Cape Chignecto
Ever since I started trail running, I have wanted to complete the loop of Cape Chignecto Park. I missed my opportunity in 2019 at Capes 100 - and the subsequent Covid years made it difficult to travel and organize a trip out to Advocate Harbour.
The Chiggy Ultra was unlikely for this year, mainly because I already had a schedule of big runs in 2022 (Fredericton Marathon, Keji's Backyard, Capes 100), and I would be taking over on paternity leave, and there could be a scheduling conflict.
After a series of phone calls and logistics to find Nora a babysitter for a few days (grandparents), the race was a go!
I signed up to the event a bit under trained. My training consisted mainly of walking and running with the stroller, the odd trail run, and hoping the residual fitness from my August race kicked in.
Pre Race: A Comedy of Errors
After having dropped off the baby to her grandparents, quickly organizing my gear, driving the two hours to West Advocate to the Cape Chignecto Provincial Park, and registering for the race, I needed to get some calories in me; ordered a pizza from a local pizza shop - the pizza was undercooked, and it did not smell "fresh". After eating a few slices, I got a bit paranoid that eating more of this would lead to stomach issues and ended up not "carb loading" as much as I would have liked. I slept in my car the night before the race, and I didn't have the best night's sleep, because... I'm sleeping in the back of my car, and I'm not 20 years old. The next morning, I pour myself a bowl of cereal and milk, and in my haste packing for the trip I forgot a spoon - so I'm eating wet Cheerios with my hands.
All in all, it was a great start to the day.
I drove the 5 minutes from my campground to the race start.
It was warm for an October morning, a crisp 12°C - warm enough to ditch the jacket once we started moving. I hung around the start area, chatted with a few folks I knew waiting for the 7:00AM start to the race.
John, one of the Race Directors started us off by reading us the runner's creed as written by Deb and John - which was a pretty neat touch to the event.
The Runner's Creed
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Ran on every trail twice
Hugged everyone once
Seen porcupines stuck
Fought off three hungry bears
And I know a man in Spensor's Island with a dog named Willy
I climbed more vert, got dirt on my shirt, more than any dirty vert climber around.
I've a scarred body, never rested, sleepy, weepy, creepy, stiff legged, hallucinating, double salt tabs, trail running dirtbag.
There isn't a trail I'll say no to.
No vert too steep, no rain too hard, no descent too rough.
Been in a lot of pain caves in my life.
Never attack a large hill with a small attitude.
Wore all kinds of Bois in my life. Phatt Bois, Flat Bois, Toed Bois and those nasty Bois with Goat Spikes screwed in to keep me topside on icy trails.
Any hill in life worth running up is worth doing repeats on.
I'm a lover, I'm a fighter, I'm a day or night badass trail runner.
I'll drink beer, persevere and sneak out the back door when my work is done.
So if you are feeling antsy then you'd better run because this trail runner's been there, done that and going back for more.
Cheers guys
Deb and John Collicott
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
To Hell - 0km - 0h00
Off we went to the races.
In one large group of 50km hopefuls, we ran the first few kilometers with a few of the faster runners gapping the rest of the field.
The race consisted of 1 or 2 kms on the main Cape Chignecto trail, a 5 km loop of McGahey Brook Canyon Trail, and then remainder of the run was on the main 45km loop of the Provincial park.
I got into a group at a pace I thought was slightly more aggressive than I should have ran, but it was a pace that I was certainly capable of maintaining. This being early morning, I was not chatting with anybody just yet - we went down and up the main trail road, up, and up, and up we went... some people were running up this hill, which was totally runnable. I decided to walk it, as I was not quite warmed up, and I don't typically run the hills during ultras.
Our group took a right hand turn, following the "Jackhammer" signs, crossed a small stream onto the single track. I was 5th in a train of 6 or so runners, and we were definitely in the first 1/3 of the field. The single track had a few muddy sections, but I counted my blessings that I was not in the last 1/3 of the field, as I suspected they would be running on flattened, wetter, worn trails. This first 5km had some nice, flowy trails - and we ran most of it. At some point we came across a hairpin section of the trail and we were able to see the group ahead - they had no more than 200 meters on us. We completely dropped the group behind.
We had a nice rhythm going, and soon after I started chatting with some of the folks around me. Josh from Fredericton was running his first marathon+ distance, Bobby from Digby was also there, and a few women were pacing us.
After a while, we hit a long descent - which allowed me to open up on my group. I quickly made work of this downhill section, passed 3 or 4 runners, and rejoined the main Chignecto Trail. Next was a long uphill section, one woman with black hair passed me on the uphill. I did not have poles with me to start the race, so I expected to be passed on the ups and fast on the downs. Similar story to Capes.
I struggled a bit more on the uphills than I expected to, but that's evidently because of my lack of training on hills since Capes.
At some point, the woman in black hair moved ahead up the mountain and out of sight, and I needed to pee. I got to a 4-way junction with no signage, was unsure where to go next, and decided to pee while waiting for the next runners to show me the way.
I ran with Mark(?) and Josh for a while, for a few kilometers, eating a package of honey stinger gummies and banana baby smoothie. This section had a few trees that had fallen from hurricane Fiona, but the park staff did an awesome job clearing them from the trail. At some point we caught up to some of the slower 2 and 3 loopers. The three of us were moving well and even caught up to the woman in black hair on the flat sections. At some point, we hit a downhill slope, both Mark and Josh had a history of knee injuries, and they needed to take the downhills pretty easily I moved ahead and soloed it.
The next 6 or so kilometers followed along a narrow stream that we crossed a few times. I rode this part solo - I looked behind and ahead and not a soul was seen and I worried briefly that I took a wrong turn. Alongside the main trail, there were distance markers at every kilometer, and soon after I thought I might have been lost was a marker indicating I was going the right way. Chignecto has many beautiful sights looking out the Bay of Fundy, but this was by far my favorite part of the course. The forest floor was littered with fallen autumn leaves, the stream of water to my right, barely any roots to trip me up. My idyllic running setting.
I had not studied the course map, but I knew that the first aid station was at around 14 and 16kms. I must be getting there soon...
Eatonville Aid Station - 16km - 2h20
Just before reaching the aid station, Ryan (a person who was at the same campground as me) caught up to me and asked me if the girl he was with had passed me (the answer was no). We entered the Eatonville aid station together at 16.5km, around 2h20 into the race. Anthony Fromm was one of the volunteers - I said hi to Tony, got my bottles filled with water, grabbed some Oreos. I had my drop bag at Eatonville, in it was a Gatorade bottle, my poles, extra pair of shoes, etc. I thought the trails so far were pretty runnable and elected to not grab my poles - also drank most of my Gatorade because I thought I needed the calories. I quickly turned it around at the aid station, recognized Emilie - a runner from Moncton - on my way out amongst the several runners into the aid station.
Still feeling fresh from the aid station, I booked it down Eatonville road, through the parking lot, across the field, and onto the single track once more. I passed a group of three runners (two and three loopers that started an hour earlier), and started out on a climb. Midway through what should have been an easy climb, I started to have some stomach issues and slowed it down a bit. A guy who was looking very strong passed me on the way up. I got caught by Bobby from Digby and ran and chatted with him for about half a kilometer, but I was not feeling great and told him to go ahead. It was likely the Gatorade that made me feel woozy - and I decided to take it a bit easy for a little while until I felt better. The muddy parts started... they would show up sporadically every 200 to 300 meters, and it was tough to get into any kind of rhythm.
Completely out of the blue, both quads started to cramp, at first it was a small niggle, but after about 5 minutes of slight cramping, they both went into full cramp mode. At kilometer 22, I was walking on a nice single track, and every step felt weird.
left, right, left, right,
cramp, cramp, cramp, cramp...
What the hell is this?!?
I got passed by many people, including Emilie, Ryan, and finally Blair Mann.
Blair was looking strong and briefly stuck with me to recommend making sure to drink enough water and get enough salt. I took the veteran runner's advice to heart and added another Nuun tab in my water bottle. I was not moving great, but I could still walk - luckily the rest of the field was probably moving slowly also because of the constant muddy parts around every turn. By the 24th kilometer I looked at my map to see if there was an easy way to quit (there was not). Still another 6 or 7km to the Big Bald aid station. I will definitely quit there.
Every step was painful. The quads were not firing correctly, and thus my coordination was lacking. I inadvertently stepped in very muddy areas and got my feet soaked with water. My only solace, the only thing that took my mind off the pain was looking for the distance markers on the course, slowly counting down from 34, 33, 32, 31... and the beeping of my watch after every 1000 meters.
Many runners had passed me during this section, most just ran by. One runner with a PEI flag has stopped and chatted with me for a while to try and improve my spirit, she seemed like she was in a great place mentally herself. My mood somewhat improved, but I was still feeling awful physically. I was taking so much time to hear my watch beep between every kilometer - 12, and 14 and 16 minute kilometers. I went through all of my water, and the only liquid I had on me was a full bottle of Gatorade (yuck) in my backpack. The last thing I wanted to drink today was Gatorade, but it was the only thing I had.
At some point around kilometer 29 or 30 - I was alone and looking at my feet, following the trail ahead of me. Crossed a small stream, and somehow I got lost. I followed what I thought was the trail but the "trail" that I had followed was unused. Odd, I thought to myself, that all of these trees are leaning towards the main trail, and there are fewer and fewer footsteps on the ground. I turned around to try and find the way back "this can't be the right way" and there were no trails. I bushwhacked about 50 meters and found the trail again - but I didn't know which direction was the right one, so I waited until the next people on the trail to show me the way. This event sort of reinvigorated me for a few seconds - I don't want to be lost in the middle of these woods. Luckily, I didn't wait long, as a group of hikers with a dog came up from my left within the next 30 seconds. "Is this the way?" I asked.
Hobbling along the coast, I figured I couldn't be too far away from the next aid station - should be around the corner. My stomach went sort of south again because of the second bottle of Gatorade. One runner came up from be behind me - Josh from Fredericton again - his IT band was bugging him at this point, so the both of us hobbled along the trail - he luckily had some poles with him to assist, and we worked together for the next 10 or so minutes into the Big Bald aid station.
Big Bald Aid Station - 30.5km - 5h45
"How are you feeling?" asked the aid station crew from the patio.
"Like absolute dogshit"
It took me nearly 3 and a half hours to cover the 14 kilometers between the first and second aid station - and there was barely any elevation. There were a few small hills, some ups and some downs - but nothing too bad in terms of elevation. The trails had been muddy and rooty. The downhills were painful on the quads, and the salt tabs barely helped. My poor planning and slow speed forced my hand to drink more Gatorade, and my stomach was feeling awful again. One issue led to another, which led to another.
Josh was feeling better than me, and a few other runners were leaving and wishing us good luck.
Octave - a runner with whom Josh had been running the last section came in, with a positive attitude.
I sat on the step for a few minutes - contemplating quitting. Looking for any sign of a vehicle, but there were none, and I briefly abandoned the idea of quitting.
I refilled my bottles with water, added another Nuun tab - went inside to eat some chips, got some Coke. I also changed my socks. I had an extra pair of socks in my Salomon backpack, but unfortunately I sweat so much that the socks were damp - still better than then ones I had on my feet.
Josh and Octave were getting ready to leave, and I got to talking with them through the aid station - I figured if I was going to move on, it would have to be with a group. The three of us set off down the hill, approximately 12.5 more kilometers until the next one.
Now that I had a group to hike/run with, I felt confident that I could at least distract myself long enough to not suffer as much as the last section. Both Octave and Josh had poles with them, and they seemed to be navigating all of the muddy bits better than me by leaning on their poles and helping themselves balance. I was ruing not having grabbed the poles from my drop bag at km 16. We made some slow progress - Octave was saying that he wanted to keep his legs fresh for the "runnable" sections which we should start to see eventually. For a good chunk of these, we were averaging 11 and 12 minute kilometers, which was an improvement on the past section, but still not great.
Octave pointed to an island in the distance - it was a waypoint from which we could mark our progress along the coast. The three of us took the lead at various points during the next section - running when we could, walking when we had to, and hobbling when it hurt. At some point I had to tie my shoes and after I looked up, both of them were way ahead - it took a few minutes for me to catch up. We passed a woman that Josh knew (presumably from Fredericton), and he dropped back to chat with her. I thought we had dropped him for good, but he caught up to us on a climb. Octave mentioned that he thought Josh probably is done running due to the IT band issue. My quads were still really hurting on the descents, but I was feeling fine on the climbs. At some point - presumably because of the growing foot and quad pain for the last hours, I also developed a very sharp pain in the back of my knee that worried me, but it only hurt when I bent my knee on uphills. If bending your knee hurts, then don't bend your knee, I thought.
After a while, I took the lead of the group.
It came up during many conversations at this race, not only with Octave and Josh, but also with Emilie, and possibly with Roy Banks pre-race. Everybody made mention of two climbs; Mill Brook, and Refugee Cove.
First up was Refugee Cove.
Once we hit the valley looking out onto the Cove, it was apparent that it was going to hurt. We were atop the western border of the valley - we would run downhill on singletrack, only to cross a bridge, and go back uphill on a doubletrack (service road).
I was leading our group on the descent, and every step was agony - the quads started to burn more and more with each passing second. I couldn't even go fast for risk of losing control. On the downhill shuffle, my toes were slamming in the front of my shoes, each step more and more painful. My big toes were pulsing. The ground flattened at the bottom of the descent, and I took a second to re-tie my shoelace - this time I used the heel-lock function on the shoe to hopefully save what might remain of my toenails' integrity. Looked behind me, and there was no sign of Octave or Josh.
I figured that the aid station was close by, and I was low on water again - so I pushed on. They both had poles and I thought they might catch up on the next uphill anyhow. Crossing a bridge across the cove, and then a short, flat section, turn, and there's the "gnarly uphill". Refugee Climb towards Arch Gulch climb was no joke. It went on and on as far as the eye could see, but the incline was manageable. After about 200 meters up, I saw both Octave and Josh working together behind me at the bottom of the hill. Rather than taking long, slow steps on the uphill, my knee only let me take small, shuffling ones - thankfully unlike the quads and feet that were hurting on both sides, only one knee was bugging me.
It felt like a long time, climbing at a steady incline, up ahead it looked like the trail would get steeper and steeper, but once I got to that point, if felt the same as always. I finally hit a flat spot on the top of the climb, and took a few seconds to catch my breath, and FINALLY, some runnable trails. It was slow moving, but I was running again - thinking to myself that it's not far to the aid station...
Up ahead, I heard some voices, and I thought I saw a cabin, but upon closer inspection, it was a bunch of spraypainted trees. Were the voices imagined too? I kept moving along this trail and just a few 100 meters further was the aid station.
Arch Gulch Aid Station - 43km - 8h45
The unofficial photographer of Chiggy Ultra, Roy Banks was taking pictures as runners entered the aid station. I told Roy that if he caught a smile from me, it'll be the first one I've cracked all day.
After a few minutes and chowing down on an Oreo, we heard a few voices - obviously two runners talking to each other. I was expecting Octave and Josh, but it was not them.
Mat Sabinski and Stuart Thompson, came into the aid station looking pretty chipper. I asked about Octave and Josh, and they said that one of them didn't look too good and was slow moving.
These two were all business in the station - Stuart was planning on 3 loops, and he seemed in control. They were in and out pretty quickly, and I figured it would be an opportunity for me to tag along a few strong runners. A positive mindset can be pretty infectious.
We took off from the aid station jogging. As we leave, Octave and Josh come in, I wish them both good luck and high five both. We kept that pace for the remainder of the flat trails. They were running faster than what was comfortable for me, but I held on. It was only 8.5km from Arch Gulch aid station to the finish - I knew I could do it, even if it took me 3 hours.
Stu, Mat and I start chatting. I told them about my quads, "It's probably because you don't have poles."
Mat asked me why I didn't have poles, and said that it was very stupid of me to not have taken them with me.
No kidding Mat.
Anyhow - Stu seemed to know these trails pretty well, and led us for a few kilometers, and warned us about what was in store for us between that point and the end.
Big descent, big, big uphill, and then some stairs and down and back up. Easy peasy.
To nobody's surprise, Mill Brook downhill was downhell, and then we got to Mill Brook climb.
Just eyeballing it, you could tell it was steeper than Refugee Cove, and it seemed to not end. Mat Sabinski took off, as he was doing a single loop and wanted to finish strong.
Turns out that "Sabinski" is Polish, and roughly translates to "climber of great hills" 👍
Within a minute, Mat was out of sight, Stu and I were slowly getting up the hill together. Hikers coming down the hill encouraging us. Midway up the hill is a bend and a bench - the bench was occupied by hikers naturally, so I hugged a branch that was sticking out, and caught my breath. I waited for Stu to catch up to me, and back on my way up. Up, up, up we went, a climb that never seemed to end, ever steeper than arch gulch... "But how does it compare to steep mountain?", child's play, it was absolute childs play - I could have setup a picnic on Mill Brook. I managed to pull myself up this hill on cramped legs and a bum knee - so it wasn't that bad.
I tried to pull a Mat Sabinski and finish this forsaken run strong, but the legs would not have it. There were a few sets of stairs, and I was limping up these because of my left knee.
Eventually, I got to the main trail, which was of course all downhill. I walked the downhill, saw the distance makers for 3km and then 2km, and chatted with another runner (who started at 6am) we were saying how unbelievably tough this run was.
We ran the last 100m, which was uphill - I could have moved quicker in the last down and up hill, but I was just done with "competition". "Style" went out the window about 6 hours ago.
After 10 hours, 50 minutes or running. After battling cramped quads for 8 hours. Wet and painful feet. Upset stomach. Toes that are likely to lose their toenail as soon as I took my socks off. Whatever the hell was going on with my knee. A bruised ego, wanting to quit for 30kms. I touched the green gate - signaling the end of this awful, awful run. A sigh of relief.
"How was that?" John asked.
My only response, and what I felt was appropriate at the time, was "holy fucking shitballs".
Back Again - 52km - 10h50
If you read this John, I hope you don't take it personally. I had one hell of a day.
I think it's safe to say that I made many mistakes on October 1st, one mistake compounded and led to other issues down the line. I will hold onto my patch and coaster for a long time as a token of perseverance and determination.
Hydration, salt and caloric deficit compounded to stomach issues and leg cramps, which then led to foot and knee issues. Beyond that, not properly studying and knowing the terrain led me to gear-related mistakes such as not taking polls, bringing insufficient water, etc.
This was a humbling experience, and way more difficult than anticipated.
Mostly my fault, though.
As I was writing this, a single song kept playing on repeat in my head: Roger Alan Wade - If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough
I would like to end by thanking Deb and John for hosting the event that we all wanted. It was no walk in the park, but they still managed to make it a pretty special day despite the uncertainty of Fiona and all the other unknowns abouts the logistics of this race. It was awesome to have this event so shortly after hurricane Fiona. It's unbelievable to me that anybody wanted to attempt more than one loop of this, but Adam Harris completed a triple-loop, 100 mile run and that is an incredible feat. Congrats to Stu for having the gonads to brave two full loops and to Josh for completing his first Marathon + distance on what turns out is a tough trail.
