Review : Bison Safety Bracelet

• Type : Utility / Survival
• Use : Any outdoor activity
• Price : $10

Introduction
I meet a lot of runners in my travels, so I get the chance to talk about and check out a lot of gear. While on a run last week, I mentioned I carry an emergency kit in the bladder pouch of my running vest. A runner then told me “I don’t, but at least I have a Bison Bracelet”. Naturally, I got curious.

Bison products are made of braided para-cords, which you can undo in case of trouble. The bracelet, when completely undone, measures 10 to 12 feet depending on the wrist size you chose (small to large). They feature all sorts of colors, from straight black to flashy fluo.

Trail Test
I bought a bracelet and started wearing it both casually and on my trail runs. Although the braided cord makes it a little thick and rigid, it is light enough that you will forget you're wearing it. The plastic clip system lets you put it on and take it off at will, which means you can wear it only when you go out to play. It is unaffected by sweat and I got it wet a couple times and it stayed in perfect shape.

Analysis
I think the Bison bracelet is an awesome concept for anyone who ventures out in the wild. It can be used as-is on your wrist or as a strap to hold gear on a backpack. Two clipped together would make a great dog collar, too. And if you ever get in trouble while on an adventure, you simply undo the para-cord and use it to fix gear, as a tie-down, replacement laces, for first-aid or any other situation. At $10 a piece, you won’t fret at using it, either.

Conclusion
Bison products are the kind of equipment any serious outdoors person will want handy. They are cheap, solid, won’t take any space in your backpack or running vest and could get you out of trouble and even save your life in an emergency. Knowing how trail runners hate to bring extra weight and bulk on their runs in the woods, this is one piece of gear even the most minimalist person out there can afford to bring. It’s wearable safety.

High Points

• Inexpensive
• Sturdy
• Won’t take any space in a backpack or vest
• Can make a real difference in an emergency

Low points

• Some might find it thick
• Once you open it, you’ll need a new one
  UPDATE : Actually not true, see comments below
  

5 Trail Running Safety Tips

El Capitan at the trail head.
Notice the white paper on the sun shade;
it says the number of runners,
the name of the trail(s) and gives
an expected time of return.

Like every runner, I get very excited when I think about going out on a new trail. It is one of the best adventures, as I never know what I’m going to get, where I’m going to go and what wonders I will see. So, of course, I jump at every occasion to venture out in new places.

When my friend Micah disappeared in the Gila wilderness, the worst of the wait was to imagine him out there, probably badly injured, shivering to death in his running shorts and t-shirt at the bottom of some cliff or ravine. Even if it turned out that he suffered a heart attack and died almost instantly – and, thankfully, painlessly – I will never forget how powerless and desperate I felt at the idea that he was lost, somewhere, with only the clothes on his back.

Since that day, I’ve never hit a trail without carrying at least some safety equipment and taking some basic measures in case something goes wrong. I’m not necessarily talking about my weekly run at the local park where I know other runners and hikers will be out there and professional aid is available close by. Although it’s not a bad idea to always have some safety, I am also a runner and I’m not going to burden myself if I don’t need to. But every time I go out on a run in a more remote area, alone, or on a new trail, I always take the following precautions.

1. Emergency survival
If you’re going to take only one piece of safety advice from this post, take this one. Bring a survival kit with you. It doesn’t need to be big and bulky and there are some very good products out there for minimalists like us runners. Your kit needs to have at least a safety blanket, and I recommend having the sleeping-bag type which will keep you way warmer. You also want some matches, or a lighter, or at least some fire starter. Duct tape is a must and takes almost no space; you can even roll it on a small pen or your tube of electrolyte tablets. Extras can include an ultra-light knife, first-aid material, water purifying gear or tablets, a signaling mirror and a high-pitch whistle.

2. Leave a trace
Tell someone where you’re going and for how long. If you just don’t know, say it anyway. “I’m going to go wander around the Mesa Trail” is way better than no information at all. You have no one to say it to? Post it on Facebook or Twitter. Your running friends will be happy to know you’re out and they will know where you went. When you get to the trail head, leave a paper on your windshield saying the time you left, the direction you took and the time you expect to be back. It takes about a minute to do, will make any search & rescue attempt easier and could save your life.

3. Be ready to face the cold
Even in the warmest areas, it gets cold at night. Should you be stranded somewhere after the sun sets, it will get cold and you will suffer hypothermia. Also realize that the clothes you run in will be drenched in sweat, hence completely useless if you need to stay warm. Bring a pair of arm warmers, a light rainproof jacket and a Buff. These three items will fit any running backpack, vest or even waist pack, and they weight next to nothing. If you want extra safety, add a pair of lightweight pants or tights.

4. Pack food and drinks
You already know that you need to fuel on the run. Make sure you bring extra food when exploring a new area, and never keep going past your last third of fluids. Getting dehydrated and / or starved on the trail will have you struggling over obstacles you usually fly over. And if you get stranded or lost, you will be happy to have the extra fuel at hand. You might also have to deal with running partners who didn’t bring or forgot their own fuel, and save their butts :)

5. Mark your way
If you’re running a trail for the first time, more so in remote areas, and come at a trail crossing, stop and look. If the trails are marked, make sure you follow the right one. If they aren’t, pick a couple rocks or some sticks and shape an arrow on the ground. You can choose to make it point forward or back, just make sure you are consistent. Tracing the arrow on the ground is an option, but it’s not ideal as rain or even wind could erase them. Even if you have a GPS, these little markings could become very useful if you run out of batteries or have a breakdown. Of course, remove your arrows on your way out.

These five little things could make a difference if you get in trouble. They are not complicated and constitute healthy habits to take when you go out on an adventure. I hope you never need to spend a cold night on the trails, injured, but if you do, you’ll be happy you were prepared for the situation and will not freak out, alone, suddenly realizing you’re stranded, starving, cold, and no one knows where the hell you went.

Trail Adventure : Cordova Pass and West Spanish Peak

• Location : San Isabel National Forest, Colorado
• Trail length : 7 miles out-and-back to the pass, 10 miles to the peak
• Difficulty : Hard – Rugged, remote mountain trail
• Terrain : Varies from gnarly to smooth pine cover

I discovered the San Isabel National Forest by wandering around the state border town of Trinidad. I followed Colorado Road 12 West past Trinidad State Park, and turned right at a sign announcing a wildlife preserve. I drove aimlessly for many miles along the dirt roads until I crossed two hunters who pointed me here, along the little “41.7” backcountry road.

The trail head is about a half mile past the National Forest sign and is marked right by the road. There is parking space for maybe 4 or 5 vehicles.

The trail has a sign-up book and overall map, although I found it hard to understand where I was in the trail network it describes. A “You are here” sticker would’ve been nice.

From the road, the trail is a straight uphill with switchbacks for about its whole length up to the pass, at 11,250 feet, which offers great views. At 13,600 feet, the West Peak is probably the second highest summit in the area and offers a breath-taking view of the immense valley down on the other side.

Even though I have been spending the last 2 weeks at high elevation in Leadville and Boulder, I struggled to run the uphill and chose to fast-hike it instead. The trail is mostly rocky single track with some shadier patches where it turns to pine needle-covered soft ground, which makes it a great technical run on the way back.

What makes the beauty of this trail is its ruggedness and its remoteness, which almost guarantees that you will have it all for yourself. The mountain setting has you run through a denser forest by a fresh stream for about a mile, then up rockier slopes until you’re above the treeline. From that point on, it’s ridge-running for a mile and a half until the pass itself, which will take your breath away.

There is a lot of wildlife on the trail, from chirpy wild quails to mountain rabbits and, I have to say, black bears. One ran across the trail about 200 feet above me. I got scared because it was obviously a cub, but fortunately the mother was nowhere in sight.

The trail takes you back down on the other side, but I decided to turn around since the temperature was dropping and the weather was turning to rain. I crossed signs for other trails on the way, and know exactly what I’m going to do tomorrow :)





(Update: I spent 5 amazing hours the next day running to West Peak and the Wahatoya trail that circles the mountain)

 

Leadville 100 Beer Mile Race Report

“I can drink more than I think I can. I am drunker than I think I am. I will not puke.”

After the Beer Mile oath is taken, there is no backing out. I started regretting getting suckered into this after about 3 gulps of my first beer. See, I can’t chug, and I can’t run, at least not quite like Sweeney, Meissner, Powell, Tyler and pretty much everybody else in the field.

Everyone was on their way to their first lap, and I wasn’t even at half my can of Tecate. Luckily for me, this dude Leon couldn’t chug either, and a steady stream of foam was dripping down his long ZZ-Top beard while we were exchanging empathic looks of mixed amazement and pity.

I let out an obligatory loud burp, threw the can to the side and took off. My belly bloated so badly, I thought it would rip open and show everyone the ginormous burrito I had less than an hour before this, adding dumbness to my stupidity. I tried to start running, and my body rapidly reminded me we were in Leadville, at 10,200 feet of elevation, where running is already hard enough that you don’t need to make it any tougher. I slowed to a jog.

At 1/8th in the mile, I had already decided I wasn’t going to see this through. With great eloquence, a couple hundred feet from crossing the line for my second beer, I let out a loud “Fuck this”. However, I discovered that my refusing to quit is stronger than my common sense or my self-preservation. Before I even realized it, I was popping my second can open and making a mess of myself.

I semi-hobbled my way to the turning point, not even trying to look like I was running this. I turned around, already feeling sorry for myself because I had only half of the job done, and I was ready to check in at the ER, the AA or anywhere that would get me out of here.

It only got worse. At beer 3, my body simply refused to drink. Every sip I forced down seemed to pile up a couple inches below my throat, and it wasn’t long before I started gagging, spitting and doing other things better to stay unmentioned. I was getting ever closer to a dreaded, gigantic barf that would only have me drink an extra beer and run an extra loop. Yeah, these are the rules.

It was largely evident, at that point, that I would finish well behind everyone else, if I finished. But that didn’t matter. I kept drinking as best I could, threw the can to the curb and got on my way. This time around, there was no running for me. I could barely walk and had bloated to the point that my whole chest was hurting really bad. I needed to burp, but couldn’t. About half way to the turning point, I crossed my friend Mike Miller, who didn’t look like he was doing too well either. “How are you?” he asked, looking a bit concerned.

Instead of an answer, what came out of me was the most beastly, cavernous, gigantic, otherwordly mix of a scream and a burp. I christened it The Scurp. It was terrifying and amazing at the same time. It was humanity at its worst and its best, trash and art intertwined. It was beautiful. Trees around me fluttered. Time stopped for an instant.

Uplifted by this unexpected moment and by my newfound lightness, I resumed running. I turned around, got back to the line, popped open my 4th, managed to somehow gulp it down, then took off just when the last runner was making his home stretch. I proudly assumed my DFL status and hobbled along. Sweeney had long finished and decided to further torture my sorry ass by doing a live video interview, in which I hardly pronounced more than 3 words. But the finish line was coming, and I started savoring victory, added to the burrito-scurp aftertaste. I was cheered and welcomed, raised my hands up in the air like a true alcoholic champion and crossed that line for a final time, swearing I was never going to do this again...

... While asking when the next one would be.



The Beer Mile was performed by highly-trained professionals in a strictly-regulated environment under the supervision of international elite runners. Do not try this at home.

Heeding The Call

There’s no denying it, I’m a disperser.

My head is always full of projects and ideas for exploration. I have a hunger for adventure that never, to this day, has been satiated. I’m a daydreamer, a wanderer. My feet have taken me to many a great wonder, and still I yearn for more. My eyes have been graced with the beauty of this world and they long for more discoveries, for the elation of being overwhelmed with sights most think only exist in movies or dreams.

Yet, at the threshold of the biggest adventure of my life, my heart is torn. I have a hard time looking my close ones in the eye, because what I see is sadness, incomprehension and a feeling of being left behind. It breaks my heart, and I can’t seem to explain with the proper words that this journey I am about to begin is not an escape from them or the life we share, but a leap into the unknown, a huge breath of new air that will feed my spirit and my soul for years to come.

Tomorrow, at first light, while everyone still sleeps, I will tiptoe out of a standard life and into something completely new. I will take the open road and let the miles roll by the thousands, until I find an appealing trailhead to run or a friendly space to explore.

I will spend the next months running and roaming free, living in the back of my van and following the flow. No schedules, no plans and no responsibilities. I will be looked down upon by some, and receive some nods of approval by others. I will make new friends and be reunited with old ones. I will live, breathe and thrive with nature, closer to Mother Earth as I’ve never been.

But before all of that happens, like many other things in my life, like toeing the line of a great race, I need to take a first step.

And right now, it’s proving to be a tough one to take.