Relentless.
That's the one word that comes to mind when I think of the Manitou's Revenge 100 route.
Absolutely. Soul crushingly. Relentless.
That's how I would elaborate on that thought.
Let's back up a second for historical reasons. This adventure was painfully long, so it deserves a race report that is equally so.
I'm sorry in advance.
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| Making a new friend on Windham High Peak |
The History of the Manitou's Revenge 100
The Manitou's Revenge 54 mile race is widely considered one of the toughest endurance events on the east coast. Known for its heart pounding climbs, quad burning descents, and hours between aid stations, it is a challenge only attempted by the hardiest of mountain athletes.
But before Manitou's Revenge was a 54 mile event, it was proposed as a 100 miler by the twisted mind of Charlie Gadol. It wasn't until he described the course to local runners that he was convinced to shorten it to its present day length to avoid killing his entrants.
Ever since hearing the origin story of this race, the idea of running the original 100 mile route has haunted me. But the thought of running past the finish line and missing the post race festivities on race day never sat right with me. With the official race canceled for 2020 due to Coronavirus, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to finally try my luck.
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| Manitou's Revenge 100 course map |
With the help of my Catskill guru Mike Siudy, I put together a route based on the original course. The concept we settled on was simple and elegant: run the full length of the Long Path through Catskill Park, from the northern border to the southern border (or "blue line to blue line," as Mike puts it).
When we totaled up the numbers for the course, there was no question that it was a burly route: 93 miles, 25,000 feet of climbing, and nine high peaks (summits 3,500' or higher). And naturally it would include some classic Catskill terrain, notably most of the Escarpment Trail, eight miles of the Devil's Path, and the entire Wittenberg-Cornell-Slide traverse.
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| Manitou's 100 elevation profile with water sources and summits labeled. Splits shown here were based on a ~26 hour finish. |
Shortly before the day of my run, I found out that a local runner named Tom DeHaan had run a similar route, which he called Wings of Manitou. His route covered all of the high peaks but left off the first mile and the last twelve miles of the Long Path. His time of 29:48 provided a good benchmark, and I hoped to cover his mileage plus the extra sections in less time. After some back of the napkin math, I decided that 25 hours might even be possible in good conditions.
Two Dopes on a Slope (Start to Mile 24)
I asked a handful of my craziest friends to join me for this adventure, but only Devang Patel was stupid brave enough to accept the invitation. So off we went into the darkness at 4am on a humid Saturday in June. With social distancing in mind, we each had one person crewing for us. In my case, it was my infinitely patient wife Alex, and in Devang's case it was the legendary Grand Slammer Otto Lam. Alex and Otto would spend the weekend driving to strategic locations and often hiking up overgrown mountain trails to find us on the course.
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| "Ryan, do you have any idea what we're in for?" "No sir, do you?" |
The first few miles were totally new to me, and we took them very slowly in the dark. We summitted our first high peak - Windham - just as the sun was starting to peak out. We paused for a few pictures at the summit, sharing the view with Rocky the wonder pup pictured above. Not understanding social distancing, Rocky spent most of our two minutes together gnawing on my hands and elbows. I guess I was already working up a good salty sweat.
The weather was a mild 50ish degrees, but the forecast called for alternating periods of stifling humidity and thunderstorms. We did our best not to think about the conditions that awaited us, but inevitably the conversation drifted back to the weather whenever a new set of clouds drifted overhead. We knew we could be in for rough conditions if the rockiest sections of the course were wet.
About two hours in, we merged with mile 4 of the original Manitou's course, meaning that the additional mileage and elevation had added about an hour to our route. That was fine with me, but I had neglected to add that time onto the pace sheet that I gave our crew. Sorry about that, guys!
I've always been thankful that the climb up Blackhead comes early in Manitou's. With 1,071' of rocky climbing packed into just 0.81 miles of trail, it is one of the most difficult sections of the entire course. But doing it at mile nine meant that we got to enjoy the all-four-limbs scrambling like a couple of kids playing on a jungle gym.
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| Devang's view for most of the day. I apologize profusely for the beer farts. |
We reached our crew for the first time at Dutcher's Notch, running an hour behind our goal splits thanks to me being bad at math, but otherwise feeling good and moving well.
We cruised up Stoppel Point and had an easy meandering descent to North Point, where I lost the trail for a moment on the rocky slabs and Devang got us back on track. I'm pretty sure I make the same mistake every time I run Manitou's and I'm always lucky enough to have another runner correct me.
As we passed over Newman's Ledge I told Devang the story of the Escarpment trail runner who absentmindedly ran straight off a ledge and landed in the bushes 50 feet below. He thankfully survived but became a cautionary tale for future Catskill runners. The inaugural member of the Escarpment diving team.
"I mean, I wouldn't even want to fall off one of these little ledges," I added as we descended toward North-South Lake. "You wouldn't die, but you could definitely *oof*!"
I had fallen off a ledge.
Thankfully it was a short ledge with dirt at the bottom, so I only bruised my ego. The timing could not have been more perfect though.
Anyway, we made it to North-South Lake in one piece, having covered the Escarpment Trail Race route in 5:16 (incidentally we would have placed 164th if it had been race day). We then had a short climb to South Mountain and a long runnable descent to Palenville. It was on this descent that the rain first started, just a drizzle at first but then a steady downpour.
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| Chasing Devang into Palenville |
The Hard Part (Miles 24-56)
The thing about the Manitou's Revenge 54 course is that each section gets progressively harder. The Escarpment Trail is just a warm up for the long wet climb up Kaaterskill High Peak, which itself is just an easy hike compared the the Devil's Path. Now with an additional 40 miles tacked onto the end, we knew we had to not just survive this section but to make it to the end intact enough to tackle the sections beyond.
The rain proved to be a mixed blessing since it provided some much needed relief from the usual heat on the climb up Kaaterskill. We made steady work of the ascent, trying to motivate each other despite the increasingly muddy trails. The Snowmobile Trail that skirts the summit was, as usual, a sloppy mess. Even in the best of weather that trail has been known to steal the shoes right off a runner's feet.
The rain grew more intense and the air cooler as we climbed. I was comfortable while we were moving, but I was starting to get concerned about the risk of hypothermia later on. After topping out, we made quick work of the 1,000' descent and rolled into Platte Clove with a sense of urgency.
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| I do enjoy running in a rain storm though. Yes I'm aware that my shirt is totally translucent and my belly is hanging out. Sue me. |
I took a few minutes to refuel and put on a rain jacket, but I opted not to change my socks since the next section was guaranteed to soak us anyway. I was back on the trail in less than five minutes, and Devang was shortly behind me.
Now it was time for the infamous Devil's Path section, known as one of the most strenuous sections of trail in the country.
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| Alex near the top of Indian Head on a recon run |
With food in our bellies and some warmer layers on, our spirits were starting to recover. We made the summit of Indian Head in just over an hour. The descent to Jimmy Dolan Notch was treacherously wet, but thankfully the sticky rubber soles of my new Speedgoats worked like a charm.
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| Two dopes in the mountains |
The rain settled a bit and turned into more of a mist as we progressed across Twin and Sugarloaf, but the trails would stay wet for the remainder of the weekend. After a hair raising descent into Mink Hollow (-1,149' in 0.79 mi) we had warmed up enough that we could take off our rain jackets for the ascent of Plateau, which is the mirror opposite climb (+1,112' in 0.79 mi). Normally this is the last uphill scramble of the race and it turns into a heart pounding affair, but today it was time to settle in and conserve some energy. My 43min/mi pace on this section reflects, I will argue, my amazing patience rather than a total lack of climbing ability. Sigh...
Anyway, the top of Plateau offers some decent running for a few minutes before turning sharply downhill toward Warner Creek. We met up with mountain badasses Aaron Stredny and Shamus Nugent who were running the 54 mile course self supported. We spent a talkative few miles together, all of us happy to have more company during a long stretch between aid. We then added a fifth member to our party, whose name I didn't quite catch. Here's a video of him though.
Needless to say this was the highlight of the day for all of us.
We refueled at Silver Hollow Notch and smooched up our crew members (or at least I did; I didn't keep tabs on Devang and Otto), and then it was time for the last two climbs and descents before Phoenicia.
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| Goons on parade |
We all got split up on the climb and descent to Warner Creek, and for the first time all day I found myself alone and able to take the climb up Mount Tremper at my own pace. And with 40 miles left to go, I was in absolutely no rush.
After some uninspiring 25 minute uphill miles, I met Mike Siudy at the summit where he offered an assortment of beverages. Then it was time for some equally uninspiring 15 minute downhill miles in the fog as the sun set and my headlamp batteries died. Not cool, headlamp, not cool.
I survived the descent intact, but I was becoming increasingly aware that my feet were waterlogged after being soaked most of the day. I trotted into Phoenicia at a leisurely pace and arrived at the Parish Hall with 17:39 elapsed. Accounting for the extra hour long climb up Windham High Peak, that's a 16:39 Manitou's Revenge 54 finish, which was just about on our target pace and would have placed us 57th of 113 starters in the 2019 race.
The Even Harder Part (mile 56 until my gruesome death)
Now it was time to reset and get my head on straight for the Wittenberg Cornell Slide traverse. Unfortunately Devang's feet were too shredded to continue on and there would be no crew access for the next 25 miles, so I would have to prepare for a long night alone. A full change of clothing made me feel like a new man, and a beer and half a pizza didn't hurt either. Alex and Mike walked me to the next trail head while I ate, and then I was off on my own.
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| Portrait of the author blissfully unaware of what he's about to go through |
I had run this section of the Long Path in 2019 as part of the Cat's Tail Marathon but that was 1) in the reverse direction, 2) during daylight hours, and 3) on relatively fresh legs. The point I'm trying to make is that I didn't really know what I was in for. What I learned is that this section of trail is surprisingly difficult to follow and doesn't have a single water source for 13 uphill miles. Yeesh. I should have at least had a second beer before I left Phoenicia.
It took almost 4 hours of climbing through wet grass and leaves to reach the open summit of Wittenberg. My feet were soaked through and I was totally out of water. Thankfully I had a beautiful panoramic view to raise my spirits.
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| The view from Wittenberg might be the best in the Catskills |
Ha! Just kidding, it was 2 in the morning and still raining/misting. I couldn't see more than a few feet in any direction.
My pace suffered as I grew increasingly dehydrated along the rocky traverse. In the col before Cornell, I finally gave in and scooped up a puddle of muddy water in my filter. I chugged it down eagerly, trying not to pay attention to how murky the it was. Then I figured that two bottles worth of puddle water wouldn't get me any sicker than one bottle. Down the hatch!
The summit of Cornell came fairly quickly. The summit of Slide did not. I was thankful for a bright headlamp and a good pair of shoes as I clambered through the dark over some of the most difficult on-trail terrain the Catskills has to offer.
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| Allow me to introduce you to the Cornell Crack. Picture doing this at 3am in the rain by the light of a headlamp. |
Five and a half hours after leaving Phoenicia, I reached my first real water source, the spring on the east flank of Slide. I guzzled down bottle after bottle of the freezing cold water. Finally hydrated enough, I was able to take in some food, but my rest break ended abruptly when I realized that my core temperature was plummeting. I scrambled the rest of the way to the summit, stopping for a moment to mentally visualize what the view normally looks like.
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| Slide Mountain view in better weather |
Now at the high point of the course, I could make up some time on the downhills, right? Wrong! My feet were totally shot. 23 hours of mud and water had exacted a ghastly toll. My soles were hamburger meat. I gently tiptoed down the Curtis-Ormsbee Trail, watching my goal finish evaporate into the foggy air. The pain was so bad that I attempted to call Alex and tell her to meet me at the nearest trailhead. I was certain that I wouldn't make another 11 miles to our next aid station. Unfortunately, despite teasing me with a bar of reception, my phone could not connect to make a call or send a text.
The only thing I could keep doing was to move forward. An excruciating four mile descent brought me to the Neversink River, where I refilled my bottles again. I found that my uphill hiking was unaffected by my foot issues, and I made it to the summit of Table as the sun was starting to come out 26 hours into my adventure. A short traverse brought me to the summit of Peekamoose, the ninth and final high peak.
All that was left was a 2,500 foot descent to reach Alex and tap out. I soldiered forward, the skin on my feet threatening to slide off with each step. I envisioned pulling my shoes off at the finish and finding that they had taken all the skin and muscle off with them.
I heard a woman screaming softly in the distance and realized with horror that the sound was coming from my own mouth. I'm glad no one else was around to hear me. Let's just keep this part of the report a secret, shall we?
I counted down the miles until I could stop moving. Each one took an eternity. I would walk for what felt like an hour and look down to realize that 30 seconds had gone by.
Just when I started to come to terms with the fact that I had clearly died and was in purgatory descending this god forsaken mountain forever, I rounded a final bend and saw the parking lot. I gave a feeble call for Alex and she cheered me in through the last few weak strides of my Catskill adventure.
Final time: 27:50:58
Distance: 81 miles
Evelation: 24,022 feet
Postmortem
I announced to Alex that not only was I done for the day, but I never wanted to come back and try this route again. Then I sat down and told her all the things I would do differently when I attempted the route again. So I guess that settles it. If I couldn't even swear off the Manitou's Revenge 100 five minutes after dropping out, I suppose I'll come back again and do it right. I'm not sure when that will be, but you can rest assured that I'll check the weather reports before I start.
Technically, this could be considered an FKT since I replicated Tom DeHaan's route two hours faster (though notably, he was self supported and I had a crew). But I find it much more aesthetic to add on the last 12 miles of the Long Path and run the "blue line to blue line" as Mike originally proposed.
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