It’s a cool morning along the south shore of Lake Superior. There is a commotion like no other in the small town of Copper Harbor, Michigan. It’s the start of a 36-hour adventure race and what would turn out to be our first “gnome hunt”.The race takes us out to the very tip of the Keweenaw Peninsula and then back southwest towards Houghton. As we reach the tip of the peninsula we’re taunted by the one we now call the “Gnome”. He zips past us, mocking our clever team name “Whistle Pig”. We would not see him again in this race, but his taunting would echo in the deep forest and open water over the next 30 hours.
Hours later we find ourselves in the middle of a sun-baked trek. Our mud-puddle-filled, insect-laden, iodine-treated water is starting to dwindle. Then we see it - a footprint on the trail. In our delirium one teammate exclaims, “It’s his! - I know it!” “I can hear him laughing at us - taunting us in the trees!”
As we follow the footprints, sipping our iodine-bug water, we decide the shape and gait are not at all human. It’s at that moment of clarity we realize, “He’s a Gnome!”
As we reach each of our manned transition areas we hear fantastic tales about a competitor far ahead of us. How he would do a strange dance, while screeching in an unknown language. All that was understood were the words “Where’s my chamois butter?!” And then he would disappear into the dark as quickly as he came.
Ever since, we’ve been chasing the Gnome and his elusive companions.
