In starting this post I would like to say that this run has been one of the craziest and greatest experiences I have ever had. There were ups and downs, but the experience as a whole was perhaps a once in a lifetime.
The plan today was to start off of Friedline Prarie road right off of Snow Bowl road and follow a series of trails that were not marked on a map but ones that I had spoken with my friend Jason about in the previous weeks. These meandering trails roughly follow Snow Bowl road and spit you out right at the lodges where the Humprey's trail starts which in turn would take you to Humphrey's summit. This course starts somewhere around 8,000 feet and takes you to 12,633 feet and looks to be around 8 miles to the top (so approximately 16 miles in total with almost 5000 feet in elevation gain).
The start of the run is decently flat but quickly makes up for time lost. The first 3-4 miles were somewhat of a disappointment for me in regards to performance. I seem to have a difficult time warming up well on the steep stuff and I was dealing consistently with what I could only describe as continuous eye pain. My eyes were throbbing to the point where I had to close them to alleviate the pain, I am still clueless as to what was causing this but I'm glad it went away by the time I reached the Snow Bowl lodge or I probably would have turned around. Clearly I believe my overall performance was probably affected by such a weird and bothersome pain.
The open Ponderosa Pine forest quickly takes the form of the San Francisco Peaks standard of beautiful meadows, trees and ferns. Although you can't see them in this photo, the stretch some 2 miles into this trail has been taken over by the local mountain bikers who have had a field day here with all sorts of custom ladder ramps/trails and jumps that definitely go beyond my meager capabilities on a bike. It was fun to run up on them and pretend that I was bad ass, luckily no one saw me.
I reached the lodge in decent time considering and Heart Prarie was rocking a beautiful view. However, upon turning around my confidence and moral seemed to falter.
Into the Maw of the Beast...deciding whether I was really up for what I saw before me.
The entire Humphrey's trails was somewhat unrecognizable as the rocks and ground were wet and full of life, much unlike what Flagstaff can typically be. The trail reminded more of the Northwest than here, but it was quite an amazing time to be up on the trail.
Figured I would throw myself in at some point, I find myself behind the camera more often than I am in front of it. Took my little green cap off for the photo so I have a nice glory line across my forehead (trust me, no hat looks much better).
The clouds above were obviously moving extremely fast due to the shifts in light that you would get while in the forest. One second it would be dark and dreary and the next would feel like the eye or Ra was staring you down. These beams of light would last only seconds before they were swept into darkness again.
Shortly after these photos, my friend Jason and his wife Susan came down the trail in front of me. They had tales of mayhem of what was to come ahead at the summit. They offered me another layer and perhaps some pants (I was sporting my running shorts at the time), but I was convinced that all would be well if I kept moving. The clearness of the tail at this point gave me hope that the way would be clear to the summit...
The prophecy of mayhem quickly fulfilled itself as soon as I hit the saddle. Having left the protection of the trees I soon realized the final ridge traverse of the run was going to be perhaps more than I was ready to handle. I do not know how to gauge wind speed but the howling of the wind and its tendancy lift you off your feet was telling enough. A crowd was hudled in the last refuge from the wind deciding whether or not they were prepared to assault the last mile (thats right, its only a mile and I fear this next mile took me almost an hour to get out and back).
Although this was probably the most severe wind I had ever been out in...this was calm compared to the final ridge.
A look ahead to what the next mile would look like. Now on a normal day this is no ordinary trail. I find myself scrambling and crawling more than running this section. Every step is a broken ankle waiting to happen, not to mention you are over 12,000 feet at this point.
Still pictures just can not do this experience justice. The wind is so intense at this point that I have really begun questioning the logic of continuing. The wind is pushing from left to right in an effort to throw you off the ridge, your whole goal is to try and run from boulder to boulder (which in this section don't exist) so you can grab it and huddle down in an effort to regain some fraction of body temperature. I would find brief moments to sprint to what looked like a nice 1 foot tall shrub or rock to hide behind only to have the wind pick up mid stride and you would find yourself landing many feet away from where you originally intended.
My Darkest Hour
It was here in this huddled position that I quickly began plotting my demise, so I thought what the hell, might as well take a picture of where I was to die. I was losing body temperature quickly and was having to stop to hide from the wind far too often and I began to panic. I was not dressed for this and I was already fatigued from the almost 8 miles I had done at this point. I knew not what to do and began calculating my escape for survival until a small streak of divine intervention kicked in.
I went from questioning the chances of serious complications if not my survival to having the view to the final peak revealed in its entirety sitting right before me (literally happening in under 5 seconds, that's how fast the clouds were moving). The temperature shot up and a final surge of heroism brought me to my feet and running up the final stretch. No sooner than it was revealed, the summit was cast back into shadow and storm and it was at this point that I had one of the most incredible experiences of my life.
Due to the brief increase in temperature I was no longer fearful of Hypothermia but upon setting out for the final approach the wind came full circle and exacted vengeance for my taking advantage of its short let up. Now, it was hard for me to remember that the wind wasn't the only thing I was fighting. I would occasionally wonder why I felt like vomiting or why my legs and lungs were on fire. Such was the power of my fear of this wind that I would completely forget the difficulty of the trail I was on, even on a calm day. It was at this point that I was no longer able to stand up. If for even a second you were to move into even a kneeling position you would be flung onto your side. The only way to describe the force of these winds is to compare it to jumping into a pool on your back or stomach. A force much like a wave of water would slam into you even if you were on all fours and fling you aside. I found myself laying down on the cobbled ground and crawling as to not let any part of my body lift up enough to catch a gust.
I once again began to panic due to such savage treatment that was being handed to me. I was cold, laying down on the ground, and afraid to move. A short push of the clouds gave me a quick view of the final 20 yards up to the small rock shelter built at the summit (we are talking a 2 foot tall wall of rocks, nothing more).
Below was the only point since the clouds broke that I dared bring out the camera, I could only imagine how easy the camera would have shot from my hands and disappeared into the mist. As you might seem from my facial expression, all I was thinking at this time was WTF.
It was at this point I began another dilemma. As tiny as this wall was, it was giving almost complete shelter to the wind. However, the longer I sat there, the more my body temperature would drop. I had no idea whether the trip down would be worse or better than coming up so I was indecisive as to how long I should stay there. Whether it was stupidity or courage, I lept up from where I was sitting to begin the decent only to be knocked to the ground immediately. After an ironic chuckle I began to crawl head first down the ridge where I eventually came face to face with a guy knee deep in what I was. We exchanged a mutual cheer and I think seeing someone else experiencing the same struggles as me was enough to spark confidence in me to help fuel the rest of the way back down the saddle.
Once at the saddle I quickly made my way to the protection of the forest. Some tears of accomplishment for what I had just experienced where quickly washed away when I realized I was still at the top of the mountain and only halfway through a 16 mile run on one of the hardest trails in the area. Celebration quickly turned into focused crushing as I made my way back to the lodge. Seeing the meadow right before the lodge was a great motivator and allowed me to up my speed and optimism for a run well done.
For the final stretch (3-4 miles) I found myself entirely too worked to focus on anything other than one foot in front of the other. At one of the small sections of road that I was required to run a car pulled up next to me and the guy asked If I needed a ride. Before I could answer he looks at me and says "Hey! your that guy who was running the trail up on the mountain, your awesome!". Now, ill be honest, In the almost exactly 5 hours it took me on this run I never felt awesome, but its nice to know that you don't look like what you feel.
