Woodford 2009 By Laura Clark
Woodford 2009 Snowshoe Event was one of those times where you simply had to ignore the weather, gather the troops and take the journey on faith. The Vermont Kingdom of Woodford (pop. 414) is a mountainous realm enclosing some 14,000 acres of the Green Mountain National Forest and as such operates completely independently of any known climate patterns. All WMACers accept this “take it on faith” condition as part of the total Woodford experience. But this year, even experienced veterans balked at the level of commitment required. It began raining the evening before Woodford and continued straight on through reveille. A quick wake-up call to the computer revealed that (a) It was raining in Bennington too, (b) Edward Alibozek was sick and not up to posting on the WMAC site and (c) Jack Quinn was doing outdoor race director stuff and not posting on the Battenkill site. Presumably, if something were truly amiss we would sense the vibes. What we should have done, though, was what one resourceful contestant did: dial the Woodford XC Ski Center to see if they were in business. Instead, Jeff and I were busy fielding calls from our own Saratoga hotline. We had hopes of vying for the Best Carpool Award, with four stuffed Saratoga cars skidding in convoy formation. What we got were three drivers, who with the exception of Jeff and I, were soloing. I must admit that even I had my doubts, but Jeff, with many air transport meteorology courses to his credit, exuded an aurora of confidence so I conceded to his superior wisdom and took a nap in the car. Plus, our weekend Mass ritual had so far eluded us and all that excess faith had to go somewhere…I woke up at a Stewarts rest stop where Jeff was urging me to buy a ginger ale for the ride back. This puzzled me as we had never before visited our favorite Grafton Lakes Stewarts on the way to Woodford. Being female, I was not afraid to check the directions and discovered that we were on autopilot to Adams and not to Woodford. Even faith has its limits, I guess. Back on track, we counted raindrops until we stalled halfway up the rock ice formation that was the Woodford parking lot. This was fairly interesting as cars began to queue up behind us, not sure if we were trying to signal that the race had been cancelled or if we were in fact laying out a rappelling rescue line. A few reexamined their options and chose the less exciting walk from the flatlander lot. We, of course, had no choice other than to pray for studded tires. What we got was a tow truck filled with either sand or kitty litter and that worked fine. As soon as we crested the ice sheet, the rain ceased, robins began to harmonize and the sun even peeked through to take a look. We had arrived in the Magic Kingdom once again. Many of the usual characters were there, some in red hat Santa mode, one individual who apparently couldn’t yet locate his winter tights and, of course, Konrad Karolczuk. K2 was about to embark on his 100th career snowshoe race and take possession of the Keys to the Kingdom. It was time once again to believe in Santa Claus, Brigadoon and revel in the moment. My favorite part of the race is actually the warm up cross-country over the hill and through the woods to the road, which we naturally crossed to get to the start line on the other side. A few years ago, when we had that rope slide down the embankment, it was even better. The course itself presents a tactical dilemma. Against all trail-runner protocol, do you race that in-your-face steep hill to gain future leverage in the inevitable single track train lines to follow? Or do you husband your energy only to get stuck in a nail-biting ride on the local stops-at-every station subway car? I took an indecisive stance, alternating running and hiking, which actually worked pretty well. Then, stalled on the single track, I recalled Jim Carlson’s warning not to pass too early as it would eat up too much energy. Impatiently, I waited for attrition to take its toll, especially since I was convinced I could go much faster on the down hills. It nearly killed me. But eventually Denise Dion took the lead and I knew I had no business passing her early in the race, so I settled down. Eventually, though, she flagged and I was able to take The Lead. Not the lead of the entire race, mind you, but I could pretend. At any rate, the lead in my particular segment of the race. Thank you, Jim. Faith was once again rewarded. Finally I recognized the pond to the right and resisted the urge to sprint off towards it, as so many ill-fated leaders had done in the past. I knew that just about everyone behind me had a much better sprint than I had, so I tried to keep the distance growing. Shortly before the finish, I learned that I really need to concentrate on flatlander sprinting this year as Denise and two others whooshed by me. Remembering Jeff’s lecture about final season points, I rallied and managed to catch one of the two. After Jeff crossed the line, we both headed for the Vermont Bread Company Magic Kingdom outlet to consider our selection. Despite the array of tempting flavors, we both chose pumpernickel, the perfect accompaniment to Jeff’s Mom’s Famous Welsh Rarebit Supper, a warmly satisfying end to the ultimate Woodford experience. Jeff's Mom's Famous Welsh Rarebit SupperThe perfect accompaniment to après showshoe Spray inside of pot with Pam, shake tomato soup into pot & start on low heat. Fill empty soup cans 1/3 each with the beer to get out the pesky remnants, dump into pot, stir and increase heat. Continue stirring while toasting bread and slicing cheese into small squares. While stirring, flavor with Worcestershire and your choice of seasoning. Cut bread into croutons & put into soup bowls. Sprinkle some cheese over the croutons, saving most for the pot. As soup simmers down (about ten minutes) put remaining cheese into soup to melt, stir in, then take pot off stove. Pour and enjoy. And don’t let the rest of the beer go to waste!
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