“Two paths diverged in the wood and I –
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference!”
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference!”
- Robert Frost
Well now, there it is. Gazing to my left through the trees, sweat, and fatigue, I finally saw it. A wooden, 3-slat fence running roughly parallel to my direction of travel. Over the crunching of my footsteps on dead leaves, I heard it distinctly laughing at me. It ran east, which is more than I could say for myself at this point. I was trudging, ambling, shuffling, not really running. One thought ran through my mind, “I’m screwed!”
My own private, little odyssey had begun just 10 minutes or so earlier. My old friend, Al, and I had been running together in the Bushwhacker Adventure Running Race, a roughly 10-mile, point-to-point race along the Bull Run – Occoquan Trail in northern Virginia. It’s called Bushwhacker for good reason. Rather than requiring runners to follow the same trail from beginning to end, the race hands its runners a detailed, colorful topographical map at the start and invites runners to find their own way to the finish. In other words: to bushwhack at will!
And things had started off just swimmingly! Drawing upon our experience from a year ago, Al and I were much more prepared for the race’s initial chaos. We dove into the woods at the right spot; hit the right trails; bushwhacked successfully. By the first checkpoint (of 3 total that runners must hit in order) we were running 18th & 19th out of about 80 who started. We were owning this race! We held our places through the second checkpoint, too, and were still in pretty good shape as we hit checkpoint 3, even though our main bushwhack in that leg was a bit more, um, scenic than we would have liked!
But Alan and I were now in the middle of our largest, most ambitious bushwhack. Well, Al was probably nearing the end of it. I, however, now feared that I had somehow circled my way back to the beginning! It was that fence that had me concerned. We had left the Blue Trail yet again, in favor of this “shortcut”. While the main trail headed southeast before turning northeast, forming a wide V of about ¾ of a mile in length, we instead shot the hypotenuse. Or tried to. Shot myself in the foot is more like it. According to The Plan, our jump-off point from the trail would be where a fence turned up into the woods. We’d follow along it for a few hundred yards before turning more easterly, down into and out of a gully, before climbing uphill to meet back up with the Blue Trail. It was only 2 inches on the map, how hard could it be? That was The Plan.
The Plan, however, did not account for us missing that fence entirely. The Plan did not have us diving uncertainly into the trees after crossing a dirt road that confirmed for us that we had, indeed, passed our desired fence already. And The Plan did not have me being gassed enough at this point that I’d fall hopelessly behind Al. Things were not going according to Plan! For a short while I Marco Polo’d my way after Al. But as his voice faded away ahead of me, I steadily descended into a boreal version of Dante’s Inferno!
In the 1st ring of Hell were branches, lower and lower they swiped at my head as I tried to duck. This was Dante’s Limbo, or I was doing the limbo, not sure which. Finally, the branched were too low and I was in the middle of a thicket. Branches everywhere, slowing my descent. Charging through, I entered the next ring of Hell and found…spider webs! On my arms, in my hair, yuk! Fighting my way out, I next hit the trial of thorns! Vines wrapped my arms, my legs, and thorns pierced my skin, trying to hold me back as I forced onward. Hopping over a fallen log or two, I had a chance to look around. I no longer had any clue what the right way was. I was then stunned to see that I now found myself in a maze of fallen logs all around me. They were everywhere, like some great Oliphaunt had just come traipsing through, knocking over all the trees. Many of these logs were at waist level, and there was no good path out! Having committed the sin of wandering aimlessly, I was now punished by having to cross a land where direction was meaningless. I had the same, slow traverse no matter which way I went. I climbed out, figuring that I must have reached Dante’s 9th ring of Hell by now! Half expecting to round the next bend in the gully to see a 3-headed Satan, with antlers in lieu of horns, chomping on a chipmunk, a wood elf, and another hapless trail runner, I moved onward through the gully. Virgil, get me outta here! Ahhhhh!
Snapping out of it, I reassessed. Where am I? Dunno. Where’s Al? Dunno. Which way do I need to go? Dunno.
But then I heard a faint voice. It was the amateur astronomer in me. It said, “Pssst! Hey, Bonehead! Over here. Look up!”
Ah, yes. The sun! Figuring that at this hour it must be approaching due south, I put the sun to my right and headed east at a jog. Soon thereafter, I was looking at that darn fence! Whether I had doubled back or had made progress, I didn’t know. And it didn’t really matter, I needed to go east. With renewed confidence that maybe I could still avoid having the race officials send out a search party to find me, I ran. Then I found a trail! Yee-haw! Not the Blue Trail, but heading south on this trail I soon got back to the Blue Trail, the runner’s yellow brick road!
My own private, little odyssey had begun just 10 minutes or so earlier. My old friend, Al, and I had been running together in the Bushwhacker Adventure Running Race, a roughly 10-mile, point-to-point race along the Bull Run – Occoquan Trail in northern Virginia. It’s called Bushwhacker for good reason. Rather than requiring runners to follow the same trail from beginning to end, the race hands its runners a detailed, colorful topographical map at the start and invites runners to find their own way to the finish. In other words: to bushwhack at will!
And things had started off just swimmingly! Drawing upon our experience from a year ago, Al and I were much more prepared for the race’s initial chaos. We dove into the woods at the right spot; hit the right trails; bushwhacked successfully. By the first checkpoint (of 3 total that runners must hit in order) we were running 18th & 19th out of about 80 who started. We were owning this race! We held our places through the second checkpoint, too, and were still in pretty good shape as we hit checkpoint 3, even though our main bushwhack in that leg was a bit more, um, scenic than we would have liked!
But Alan and I were now in the middle of our largest, most ambitious bushwhack. Well, Al was probably nearing the end of it. I, however, now feared that I had somehow circled my way back to the beginning! It was that fence that had me concerned. We had left the Blue Trail yet again, in favor of this “shortcut”. While the main trail headed southeast before turning northeast, forming a wide V of about ¾ of a mile in length, we instead shot the hypotenuse. Or tried to. Shot myself in the foot is more like it. According to The Plan, our jump-off point from the trail would be where a fence turned up into the woods. We’d follow along it for a few hundred yards before turning more easterly, down into and out of a gully, before climbing uphill to meet back up with the Blue Trail. It was only 2 inches on the map, how hard could it be? That was The Plan.
The Plan, however, did not account for us missing that fence entirely. The Plan did not have us diving uncertainly into the trees after crossing a dirt road that confirmed for us that we had, indeed, passed our desired fence already. And The Plan did not have me being gassed enough at this point that I’d fall hopelessly behind Al. Things were not going according to Plan! For a short while I Marco Polo’d my way after Al. But as his voice faded away ahead of me, I steadily descended into a boreal version of Dante’s Inferno!
In the 1st ring of Hell were branches, lower and lower they swiped at my head as I tried to duck. This was Dante’s Limbo, or I was doing the limbo, not sure which. Finally, the branched were too low and I was in the middle of a thicket. Branches everywhere, slowing my descent. Charging through, I entered the next ring of Hell and found…spider webs! On my arms, in my hair, yuk! Fighting my way out, I next hit the trial of thorns! Vines wrapped my arms, my legs, and thorns pierced my skin, trying to hold me back as I forced onward. Hopping over a fallen log or two, I had a chance to look around. I no longer had any clue what the right way was. I was then stunned to see that I now found myself in a maze of fallen logs all around me. They were everywhere, like some great Oliphaunt had just come traipsing through, knocking over all the trees. Many of these logs were at waist level, and there was no good path out! Having committed the sin of wandering aimlessly, I was now punished by having to cross a land where direction was meaningless. I had the same, slow traverse no matter which way I went. I climbed out, figuring that I must have reached Dante’s 9th ring of Hell by now! Half expecting to round the next bend in the gully to see a 3-headed Satan, with antlers in lieu of horns, chomping on a chipmunk, a wood elf, and another hapless trail runner, I moved onward through the gully. Virgil, get me outta here! Ahhhhh!
Snapping out of it, I reassessed. Where am I? Dunno. Where’s Al? Dunno. Which way do I need to go? Dunno.
But then I heard a faint voice. It was the amateur astronomer in me. It said, “Pssst! Hey, Bonehead! Over here. Look up!”
Ah, yes. The sun! Figuring that at this hour it must be approaching due south, I put the sun to my right and headed east at a jog. Soon thereafter, I was looking at that darn fence! Whether I had doubled back or had made progress, I didn’t know. And it didn’t really matter, I needed to go east. With renewed confidence that maybe I could still avoid having the race officials send out a search party to find me, I ran. Then I found a trail! Yee-haw! Not the Blue Trail, but heading south on this trail I soon got back to the Blue Trail, the runner’s yellow brick road!
It turns out that I had rejoined the Blue way down the line, beyond where we had intended to hit it, and this left me with less than a mile to go. Summoning up whatever energy I had left, I ran! By the finish I was completely spent – the hills on this course really are killers – but I had actually still managed a decent time despite my excursions, 1:48:59, nearly 2 minutes faster than in 2009. Not bad, all things considered!
In two years, the Bushwhacker Adventure Running Race has quickly become my favorite race; it really is an adventure! However, it is with sadness that I recently learned that the race organizers, EX2 Adventures, are not able to bring the race back for 2011. They just haven’t gotten enough participation to prevent losing money. ‘Tis a shame. I plan on pestering them to bring it back, though, but we’ll hopefully leave Dante out of it!
