#2- Middlefork Trail Before Sunrise

Middle Fork Trail.

Twelve miles roundtrip.A long effort.A different kind of run.

Driving Into the Dark

I left before sunrise.

The road along the Middle Fork Snoqualmie River winds through shadow even in daylight, and in the pre-dawn black it felt like a tunnel through forest. The spotlights on the Vandoit van earned their keep that morning — lighting up curves, wet pavement, and the occasional reflective eyeshine deeper in the trees.

There’s something grounding about starting in the dark. It removes distraction. It simplifies the mission.

Park. Gear up. Headlamp on. Go.

Headlamp Miles

The first half-hour belonged to the beam of light.

Just a small white circle ahead of my feet, catching frost-tipped ferns and slick roots. The rest of the world barely existed beyond that glow.

I’ve spent the last several months logging long runs on the treadmill. Predictable. Climate controlled. Efficient. Sometimes accompanied by whatever movies I can find that I haven’t already seen.

But this was different.

Instead of dialogue through speakers, I heard the river.

The steady rush of water over rock.

Instead of cinematic soundtracks, I heard forest birds waking up.

A Pacific wren trilling from somewhere impossibly loud for something so small. A varied thrush offering that long, descending, almost echoing note that feels like it belongs in cathedral rafters.

The forest was my surround sound.

Twelve Miles of Something Real

The Middle Fork Trail is forgiving in grade but long enough to matter. It’s the kind of trail where rhythm becomes meditation. You settle in. You breathe. You let the miles accumulate.

Unlike treadmill miles — where time can stretch — trail miles pass in layers:

• Light slowly filtering through trees

• River bends revealing new angles

• Footbridges and old road grades

• Moss glowing in early morning dampness

It was a long run, but it didn’t feel mechanical.

It felt alive.

A First of the Year

As I approached the bridge near the parking lot, I heard it before I saw it.

A sharp, metallic tzink.

Then movement along the river rocks.

Two American Dippers.

Bobbing.Diving.Completely at home in the rushing water.

First of year.

There’s something special about seeing your first dipper of the year along a mountain river.

They don’t feel ornamental. They feel elemental — like part of the current itself.

It was the perfect closing note to the morning.

Lessons from the Trail

As much as it was an opportunity to test myself physcially on this 12 mile run, it was also an opportunity to test gear and preparation.

What worked well?

• Headlamp provided enough light to run lightly even among the roots and rock for the trail.

• my new Altra Trail Running Gaiters worked well and kept all debri out of my shoes.

• My Hoka trail running shoes gripped the trail even on the muddy sections preventing any sort of slipping.

What didn't work well?

• I overdressed and found myself soaked with sweat at the end of the run. I shivered, with my fingertips turning a pale white, until I was able to get home and stand in a hot shower.

If You Go

• Trailhead: Middle Fork Snoqualmie Trailhead (off Middle Fork Road near North Bend)

• Region: Alpine Lakes Wilderness gateway corridor

• Distance: 12 miles roundtrip (adjustable depending on turnaround point)

• Elevation Gain: Minimal and gradual — great for long steady efforts

• Best Time: Early morning for solitude and birdsong

• Navigation: Straightforward, wide trail following old road grades

• Wildlife: Watch for Pacific wrens, varied thrushes, elk sign — and keep an ear out for dippers along the river

Pro Tip:If starting before sunrise, bring a reliable headlamp and drive cautiously — the Middle Fork Road is paved but winding and dark.

Why It’s Great for Runners:If you’re training for long efforts — marathons, backpacking, Wonderland dreams — this is a perfect alternative to treadmill mileage. You get steady aerobic time on feet without punishing climbs.

The treadmill builds discipline.

But the trail builds connection.

And sometimes the best long run isn’t measured in incline percentages — it’s measured in river noise and first-of-year birds.