Ribbons and rocks: Wild Trail Inje 30k

He turned his large white head over his shoulder to look back at me. The sight of his face still made me smile. His warm brown eyes held exactly the same openness and trust they’d had in the beginning. He’d followed his human companion for as far as he could before his short little legs gave out. Now, Taeng Taeng the trail dog was tucked into a specialty backpack; watching the forest pass by from a new vantage point. Maybe he was still enjoying new and unusual smells. Or maybe he was just patiently waiting to get home to some well-deserved food. We’ll never know. But he never barked, not even once.

I had signed us up to volunteer for Wild Trail Inje 2018 at the last minute. The 30 kilometer course, near our home and on a favorite mountain, promised to be pretty.  I’d been pretty sure sweeping the course would be a simple enough job. But I never could have predicted that the last runner on the course would be canine!

Ready to rock!

Of course I wanted to be part of Wild Trail Inje. This race was basically made for me! It was in our county, which hosts very few events. The unique race course climbed straight over Bangtaesan: one of our 120 summits! A previous visit had left us amazed by this massive mountain, hidden away in remote Gangwondo.

But Wild Trail Inje would be an adventure on all new trails. There was also the fact that the race promised, literally, to be wild!

Only our commitment to another, quickly-approaching race stopped us from registering. For reasons I won’t get into now, volunteering seemed complicated. But a dear friend of ours insisted that we ought to be part of this race. Inje is our place! In the end, there was no way we wouldn’t be there.

The day before the race, we rented a car and drove about an hour south (our county is huge) to the village of Sangnam. There, we got to know some of the other volunteers and familiar faces over lunch. There wasn’t actually much Kent and I could do, but we got our gear and our assignments. One of the other two sweepers was present, and we had a chance to chat with him.

But we left early to get some much needed rest after a very eventful morning!

The following morning, we were up before dawn to drive through the dark, rainy night back to Sangnam. In the community sports center, we met the fourth member of our team of sweepers! We also found our favorite friend in the sea of runners and their tents.

At the race director’s word, all of the runners and volunteers were loaded into buses and driven to the start of the race. There, the scene was much like any other race start: loud music, guided stretching, and photos in front of the starting arch.

However, this starting arch was so far in the middle of nowhere the our bus driver had gotten lost trying to find it! Other buses also lost their way, so it was decided that the race would begin at 8:30, half an hour later than planned. We lurked around the starting arch, chatting with our old friend and some new ones. It was here that we met Taeng Taeng for the first time!

Finally, everybody was assembled and it was time to go. Bursting with excitement, we could hardly wait to get started!

Wild Trail Inje

As our countdown reached zero, dozens of runners burst out from under the starting arch and ran away down the road. For the first time ever, we stood off to the side, cheering rather than running. It was the strangest thing! Adrenaline had been working in my system all morning, but now I started my watch as we began a casual walk down the road behind the crowd. This isn’t a race, I reminded myself. I had to hold back and get my mindset right, and this was trickier than I expected!

But only at first. After a few minutes of Kent whooping and hollering, encouraging the runners to, well, run, we began a steady stream of conversation with our fellow sweepers that would last almost the duration of the race. Over the kilometers, we got to know each other well.

Which is easy when you’re doing more talking than running! Our pace had to match that of the slowest participants, so that we were always bringing up the rear. Psychologically, that was sometimes difficult. But practicalities slowed our pace too. Another one of our jobs was to remove all of the course markings. Sometimes this involved cutting through the foliage, and at other times it was like fighting with a knotted, slippery, plastic shoelace. My fingers began to hurt long before my feet!

We settled into an irregular rhythm: walking and talking with an eye on the trailing participants, then racing one another to claim the next ribbon! It was like an odd interval workout. As we went along, we found that we rather enjoyed it!

The terrain was very runnable over the first 20 kilometers of the race. It followed an old, winding forest road: part of that (ode to the) Baekdudaegan trail that skirts the mountainous spine it is named for. It was wide enough for two or more people to run side by side. Still, it felt wild! Pavement turned into overgrown gravel road. Forest closed in on either side, and we soon left all signs of civilization behind. We climbed around several bridges that had been washed away by flooding.

The first aid station was supposed to be at 7 kilometers, but at the start of the race, we heard it would be 5 kilometers in. Turns out, it was just about 9 kilometers in by my watch. We didn’t mind: we’d figured out how to have a great time despite taking in the scenery at this slower pace!

Just ahead of us was a couple who we spoke to occasionally when we caught up to them. The woman had lost the bottom of her shoe early on, but was carrying on like a champion. Her companion was having somewhat more of a tough time. At one point she took his backpack on top of her own and powered straight up the mountain! Tough lady – I was impressed!

Other individuals and pairs struggled during the ascent. Several people were outfitted in hiking gear, and despite doing a marvelous job of trekking up, were running out of time. We were watching a race unfold from a new angle, and it was inspiring to see people pushing their limits – some perhaps doing something they’d never done before!

The second and final aid station was at the end of the road, close to the top of the climb.

Although I’d initially been optimistic about everyone making the 1pm cutoff, I’d lost track of the time. One of my sweeping companions informed me that actually, we were already overdue up top. Not everyone would be continuing. I fretted a great deal about whether or not we’d need to be explaining that to anyone, until I realized that, as the only two foreigners on staff (and in the race!), we were certainly not going to be tasked with communications. And, most folks recognized that the summit was their finish line today.

We followed the final folks in and congratulated them on the climb. Everyone hungrily tucked into the hamburgers that awaited them. Everyone, of course, except for me! I contented myself by absolutely smashing package after package of salted seaweed, punctuated by a few bananas. Delicious!

The sweeper team had gotten spread out in the kilometers before the peak. One member of our team had felt the need for speed and zipped up to the top. Another member had walked one long kilometer or so in with an older gentleman who was struggling. Kent and I had encouraged the rest of the remaining runners in, while also filling up a Santa sack’s worth of pink ribbons. Now, we were all reunited!

And we were all excited to continue. From here, we’d be able to blaze along the ridge for a while. At least, until we got to the next group of runners! We said farewell to the aid station volunteers and congratulated those staying behind one last time, and dashed off into the mist.

I loved the fact that we were now on a trail, and a trail that we knew! We dodged hikers as we ran, really ran, towards the summit. Here, we played leapfrog! The four of us would run in a line until the leader found a ribbon. That person would stop to untie it while the other three ran on. Then the new leader would peel off to grab a ribbon, and the process would continue. This scavenger hunt for ribbons and our fresh pace made for much fun and merriment. We ran along like this all the way to the summit.

I had forgotten just how high Bangtaesan was! At 1444m, we had to stop for a few quick summit selfies. There were ribbons to untie there too, after all! There was actually quite a large crowd of hikers assembled around one of the steles – but this mountain has two!

And now, the wild would really begin! Leaving the peak, we stepped around a little rope barrier that marked the rest of the ridge trail as closed. In May, when we’d climbed Bangtaesan on our own, we’d peeked down this trail but opted to return back to civilization on an open trail. But this was Wild Trail Inje, and we were going for it!

This closed section along the ridge was by far the most spectacular and varied scenery of the whole race. Sometimes, we’d be surrounded by dense foliage that tempted to reclaim our trail.  (We looked for all the leaves promised on our race shirts!) At other moments, we’d scramble up onto huge boulders draped in heavy mist. There were sections with ropes and rocky scrambles. It was thrilling!

It was during this part that we caught up with the last pair of racers, only one of whom was human! Taeng Taeng had slowed down, and no longer expressed interest in relieving himself on every bush. In fact, he looked longingly up at Chae-Wool, as she drank from a bottle of water. He was thirsty! Chae-Wool immediately popped the bottle open and poured its contents into her hands. Taeng Taeng lapped it all up thirstily.

Now, we were a pack. Traversing the ridge together, slowly and carefully; all of us urged Taeng Taeng along. We surprised several staff members strung out along the ridge, waiting to help the last of the runners traverse the tricky parts. And then we were alone.

We took turns; in the lead to remove ribbons, and in the rear to escort Taeng Taeng. Eventually his owner set him up in his special backpack, but the trail had taken its toll not just on Taeng Taeng. Now bearing a heavy pack, our new friend was struggling, but bravely pushing on.

We progressed from thick areas of semi-tropical jungle to jumbles of rocks the same color as the damp, swirling mist. The footing was tricky: muddy in the forest and slick on the rock. This, and the undulating ridge, slowed our movements.

But there was soon reason to celebrate! We arrived on Gitdaebong – a rarely-visited secondary peak of Bangtaesan! I was incredibly excited, especially when I saw the homemade stele: a simple rock on which someone had carefully painted this sweet peak’s name. Slightly ahead of the others, we waited there to share a moment with them.

And then, 4 kilometers beyond the main peak, we finally began to descend. I had happily chirped some ‘words of wisdom’ about how we would fly down on the descent and how everything would be easier for everyone. Not so. The rocks immediately below Guksabong were insanely slick and the path twisted and turned over boulders in surprising ways.

Despite fierce concentration, I slid down one section on my rear. A few minutes after that, I watched Kent do a slow motion tumble from one rock to another and then into a bush. We laughed, then. The mist was settling in, the sky was darkening and it was cool. It felt like we were miles and miles from anywhere. We had to laugh at where we found ourselves.

I called back to caution our companions over this rough section. But everyone navigated the rocks well, and I was just opening my mouth to cheer everyone on again when the unthinkable happened. Our fellow sweeper and friend, Seong-Uk, slipped suddenly and went down hard. He landed flat on his back and let out a cry of pain.

The moments immediately after this were surreal. Getting back to him involved a hairy scramble back up the slick boulders. For Kent and I especially, as we swung wide around the trail to avoid bumping our other friends off balance. Chae-Wool reached him first, and knelt at his side. They quickly determined that his shoulder was dislocated, and that it would be extremely difficult for him to move.

In a matter of minutes, we made a plan. Chae-Wool called for help on our friend’s phone. Kent got the emergency reserve of medicine from his pack and handed it over, along with some snacks and water. We agreed that some of us had to continue escorting Taeng Taeng and his dad down, or risk all six of us being stranded up high on the mountain. Even as I agreed with this, I doubted it.

Kent and I sandwiched Taeng Taeng and continued down. We now both had nearly-full trash bags, and we continued to add more ribbons to them as we descended. Taeng Taeng and his dad were silent and seemed calm. Kent and I had a furious debate about whether or not we’d done the right thing. But we expected at any moment to see the rescue team ascending to meet us. I kept a running tally of how far we were getting from the pair we’d left above to tell the rescuers.

But nobody came. The trail seemed to stretch on into infinity, and we were marching into it. Kent was anxious, and neither Taeng Taeng nor his owner were eating or drinking anything. Every few hundred meters or so I’d call for a stop, hand out jellies and check on everyone. I belatedly cursed myself for not remembering to give our friends above my emergency blanket. I’d zip and unzip my pocket, pulling out my phone and checking for service, which we hadn’t had since we’d left our friends.

After 2 or 3 kilometers, we encountered another person. Initially ecstatic, we ran towards him, wildly gesticulating up the hill and trying to explain the situation. But this man was not part of the rescue team. He was not even staff. Instead, he was a runner who’d turned around to look for help after another runner sustained a mild knee injury.

So we were not alone after all! We joined a pack of around 10 for this final part of the descent. We waded knee-deep through a stream which would have otherwise been delightful.

In this area, I finally had service again. I called everyone I could think of to call, including the organizer, the guy I thought was the volunteer coordinator and even our friend.

At around the same time as I reached someone on the phone, we finally emerged from the forest onto a road. There was an ambulance there, its lights flashing. The volunteer coordinator was there to speak to me in person.

We quickly realized that there had been some sort of misunderstanding. These people on the bottom thought that the people on the top were coming down. Our friends on the mountain thought that someone was coming up to get them. This added to my distress (and no doubt everyone else’s as well), but eventually, a team was scrambled together to run up and find them. The race director brought headlamps and everyone around contributed whatever they had in terms of warm gear and calories.

It started to rain, and I realized that many of the people we’d met coming down were still gathered around us. I found myself explaining that we needed to move them; get them warmth and water. I was ready to either follow the rescue team up the mountain or run the final kilometer or so to the finish line to get the remaining ribbons. Instead, I was bundled into the ambulance at the volunteer coordinator’s insistence.

The driver put the siren on, and as we wound around the remote roads of Inje county, I questioned every decision I’d made. I felt frustrated beyond belief not to be doing something more. But we had in fact helped. If we hadn’t come straight down to the road, we might all have been stranded up there much longer.

We said goodbye to the racers in the ambulance. It was now dark. We got into our rental car, but just sat there, not knowing what to do. To our great relief, we got a call from the organizers much faster than we’d expected. The other half of our team of sweepers had waited for an hour and a half on the mountain. Then, realizing that help was not on the way, they’d begun a slow and painful descent. They’d met the rescue team just a kilometer or so from the road. Seong-Uk was then whisked away to the hospital.

All’s well that ends well. Everybody was okay in the end. Wild Trail Inje had been a little more wild than perhaps anyone had suspected. But aside from our friend’s injury, we had a great new experience in the mountains of our area! And we’d finished with more friends and memories than when we began.

Lessons Learned

This was our first experience volunteering for a race, so there was definitely a lot to learn!

Sweeping duty was harder than I expected.

First of all, I realize now that I hadn’t given a lot of thought to safety. Actually, safety is always our number one concern, and we always run heavy with extra food, water and emergency blankets. In that regard, we were definitely some of the most prepared runners out there. But in terms of being mentally prepared for what to do if there was an emergency: not so much. I guess I’d kind of thought everybody would just be okay, so our role would simply be to encourage any stragglers. Maybe we’d have to hand out some snacks or offer bandages or tape. I thought the worst case scenario would be to have to advise someone to drop against their wishes. As I found out, there were worse scenarios.

In the beginning, both Kent and I found it really tricky to stay out of race mode! There’s something about the energy of a race and that countdown that just fills me with adrenaline and the desire to push myself hard. Even though we knew what was coming – and I’d tried to put up a mental partition between this and our training, we still found it really hard to proceed from the starting arch at a walk. Good conversation and a chance to enjoy the scenery at our leisure made me forget my desire to run, but only temporarily. It would swell back at all kinds of inappropriate moments, and I kept having to rein in my energy.

And finally, the physical. Although I didn’t tax my cardiovascular system at Wild Trail Inje, I did spent a lot of time on my feet. I have the utmost respect and admiration for the people at the back of the pack. The longer length of time spent on the trail makes greater demands on the body’s muscles, tendons and bones. And that in turn requires that you stay on top of your nutrition and hydration. While Kent and I continued to feel good, I could definitely understand the exhaustion I was seeing in others. It was a long, tough day!

Sometimes stuff happens, but the best way to be prepared for it is to actually be prepared. Too many racers had too little stuff in their packs. Maybe this is common, but I’d never seen a race from this angle before. This experience really taught me the importance of the stuff we carry in our race packs, and I’d like to encourage you to always follow the rules and take more stuff to support yourself than you think you’ll need. You never know when you, or someone close to you, will actually need it.

But it’s not all about gear. If you’re into self-supported missions or plan to serve as support to a race team, get some basic first aid education. Or better yet, take a mountain rescue course. This has been on my list for a while, and is now at the top.

But volunteering is really fun.

Socially, volunteering for a race was everything I hoped it would be. Just a big group of running nerds, hanging out and swapping mountain stories. In this case, many of us had run the same races; other runxrun events like UTMJ and Korea 50k. We had a great time comparing notes and reminiscing. It was fun to have insider insight to conditions on and changes of the route.

I loved representing my county and my sport. And the fact that it was actually hard work was just right for me. I love cheering, but I kinda hate relaxing. So working at a checkpoint might be the wrong fit for me – but sweeping made sense. I would definitely do it again! But I’d also like to try course marking – and I’m eager to get back to racing, too.

Interested in running Wild Trail Inje next year? Check out OutdoorSportsKorea to stay up to date with this and other races!