June 29-30, 2007
“Now, you have no more excuses for whining about going up only once.”
Overheard — a scout leader to young scouts
Timpanogos rises above BYU campus during the winter
I again went out to do another crazy training run on Mount Timpanogos (11,749 feet), the most popular hiking destination in Utah. During the summer months, thousands of hikers make the strenuous trek up the mountain, usually taking all day, a 10-12 hour adventure. Tales of my recent exploits of doing repeat summits of this beautiful mountain have been spreading locally. On more than one occasion during a conversation about the outdoors, I have been asked, “Did you hear about a guy who hiked ‘Timp’ five times in a row?” Sheepishly than I have to admit that I’m that crazy dude.
With the Timpooneke Trail almost clear of snow, it was time for me to again go up and down the mountain like a yo-yo. Tragically, the area recently received national news exposure when an 11-year-old boy was dragged from his tent and mauled to death by a black bear in the Timpooneke Campground. The bear was tracked down the next day and killed. Even though Mount Timpanogos is my running playground, I’m made very aware of the extreme dangers that exist there and in so many other places I like to run.
I went into this Timp repeat attempt with the question, “How many will I do?” I had no specific goal, but allocated plenty of time for the adventure. Last Saturday I summitted Timp for the first time this season. The trail still had enough snow to be annoying, but I still had an enjoyable, yet slow adventure. I noticed that the “king of Mt. Timpanogos,” fellow-ultrarunner, Phil Lowry had already signed the summit register six times this season, recording his record 366th career summit. Amazing! I only started this summit frenzy a couple years ago and have accomplished 38 life-time summits. On Wednesday (two days ago), after work, I went up again and came back discouraged at how aversely affected I was by altitude above 10,000 feet. My climb up had taken a relatively slow 2:42. I overcame that by doing a very speedy decent for a 4:12 round trip. (My PR is 3:43) I knew that adjusting to the altitude at this point in the season would take time and that I should keep my expectations low as to how well I could perform.
How tough is this? A single summit round trip covers 14-15 miles and climbs nearly 4,800 feet. The trail is mostly runnable, but very technical. There are only short sections where the trail is smooth. Most of the trail has large rocks imbedded in it and some rock-slide sections have loose rock. The final steep climb to the summit has many loose rocks. Running quickly down the trail requires intense concentration. I enjoy the trail because it is so technical.
There have been four ultrarunners who have at least accomplished a Triple. Myself, Phil Lowry of
Well, painful ultrarunning memories fade fast. Silly thoughts entered my mind: “Gee, if I could do six – now there is a record that probably would never be touched!” That would be nearly 90 miles and 28,000 feet of climb.
A Triple covers almost 45 miles and climbs about 14,000 feet. I believe a Triple Timp is similar to a Grand Canyon double crossing, but with more elevation, more altitude, no flat sections, and more technical trails. The climbs, altitude, and technical trail makes it rank right up there with the toughest 50-milers.
Trip #1, mile 0-15: Up – 2:39, Down — 1:46, Total – 4:25
On Friday afternoon, I started my very familiar run up the trail. There were only a few cars parked at the trailhead, so I expected to see just a few people coming down the trail. The day was hot, nearly 100 degrees in the valley, but much more pleasant in the mountains. I planned to travel with two waterbottles, knowing that I would need to refill from some snow runoff high on the mountain that I hoped would be clean. In my car I had plenty of goodies in a cooler. I would only visit my “aid-station” car every 15 miles.
At the trailhead was still a notice nearly two weeks old still warning of snow and dangerous conditions. At this point it was fiction. The hot temperatures had rapidly melted almost all of the snow on the trail. I tried to take a picture with my camera, but the batteries were dead. No pictures during this run. With my labored run up on Wednesday, I decided to take it easy and try to keep my heart rate well below its max. As I ran and power-hiked up the beautiful shaded trail, I felt pretty strong and looked forward to a great adventure. I knew that I would at least do two trips. If I accomplished two trips before dusk, perhaps I could do nearly two more by dawn.
The trail heads up a “Giant Staircase” to the basin
I greeted several hikers making their way down. Three were moving pretty fast. In the exposed, sunny areas, I could feel the heat and I tried to keep cool. The wildflowers were blooming and butterflies were all over the place. Two years ago with a heavy snowfall, some huge avalanches accumulated snow that lasted for two seasons. All those areas are already bare with another drought winter season. I didn’t see any snow on the trail until right below the basin near 10,000 feet. There were two backpackers who missed a turn in the trail and were struggling up a steep rock slide area. They watched me cruise up the correct trail quickly and I’m sure felt pretty stupid.
Running across the large basin was nice and peaceful. There were no more hikers above me. I refilled a water bottle near a small waterfall from snowmelt. It should be dry in a couple weeks. There is a steep ascent up to a saddle (ridge). There were a few sections of snow 10-30 yards across. The snow was pretty firm, but soft enough to dig in some tracks. I pounded in some new trails through the snow that were more direct than previous ones.
View of the summit from the Saddle
When I popped up to the top of the saddle, I had an expansive view of Utah Valley. I gazed down on Utah Lake, the lake I ran across on the ice during the winter. What really caught my attention was the massive fire on Lake Mountain across the lake. My home is at the foot of Lake Mountain. A huge fire broke out ( Mercer Canyon fire) a week ago and it had consumed thousands of acres. During my morning runs throughout the week I could see exhausted firefighters in sleeping bags spread out across the Elementary School lawn near my home. What really alarmed me now is that I could see a second massive fire on the mountain further to the south. The wind was very bad and I could see smoke filling Utah Valley from the fires.This made me mad. These fires are almost always caused by careless shooters who go into the foothills, get drunk, and make a mess with their shells. It seems like every week this season, someone starts a fire from ricocheting bullets. The Mercer fire was destroying one of the most beautiful canyons on the mountain. This new fire (Mosida fire) was roaring through a ten-mile section that I like to run through. (Later I drove and inspected the damage. There was 9,000 acres of devastation. The fire marshall has prohibited shooting in that area until the weather improves. A quarter of the mountain looks destroyed. I could see that back fires were started to protect powerlines and structures. The backfires spared most of the juniper trees.)
Mercer Fire on Lake Mountain
The whole sight made me sad. I watched the fire 18 miles away as I pushed ahead for the final steep half-mile to the summit. The wind was pretty fierce, gusting to about 30 m.p.h. My route to the summit includes a steep corkscrew assent covered with scree. It then pops over a ridge and then ascends steeply via rough switch backs covered with loose rock, and then finally makes its way to the summit hut. I arrived at 2:39 elapsed time. I felt great, much better than I did at the top a couple days ago. The altitude wasn’t affecting me much. I quickly signed the summit register and then headed back down.
My run down was pleasant. With about two miles to go, I came upon a few hikers and some backpackers heading up to camp for the night. I arrived back at the trailhead at 4:25. My car was blazing hot inside, but my cooler had kept my food pretty cool. I chowed down a HotPocket that was frozen when I left, now toasty warm. Despite my efforts to drink plenty, I knew I was dehydrated. I drank four water bottles during the trip, but probably needed six. After a 12-minute stop, I was ready for my next trip up.
Trip #2, mile 15-30: Up – 2:56, Down — 1:53, Total – 4:49
I hit the trail again, but knew I would suffer somewhat until I recovered from dehydration. I quickly overtook some startled backpackers, leaving them in the dust. Near Scout Falls I could hear some hikers off the trail in the woods. A common mistake is to miss a switchback at Scout Falls. Hikers then start going up a very steep slope, wondering why the trail is so hard. I probably should have shouted to them, but it sounded like they knew they were on the wrong route.
When I reached one of the plateaus, I popped up and saw a huge moose with its back to me, right on the trail about 20 feet ahead. It looked back at me and quickly galloped away. I soon caught up with a couple hikers who stopped on the trail, watching me run. I said hi, but they didn’t say anything. Later, looking far below at them, I could see them heading back down the trail. I knew that there was one hiker on the trail ahead of me. Where was he? I remembered that he looked pretty fit and was moving strong when I crossed past him going down. I finally crossed past him again just below the saddle, heading down. He had a very surprised look on his face as he recognized that I was the guy he saw heading down earlier. I told him, “Good job!”
The Saddle and trail toward the summit
Before reaching the saddle, there is no wind as the mountain protects you from winds from the south, west, and north. But when you pop up on the ridge, they can really pound you. The wind had died down a little from my last ascent, probably gusting to 20 m.p.h. The fire was still raging and half the valley was full of smoke. I reached the summit at a slow pace of 2:56. No one had signed the register since the last time I signed. I called my wife from the summit hut and let her know that I was feeling fine and planned to continue to run through the night.
I felt much better on the way down. The temperature was cooler as the sun was sinking toward the horizon. Below the saddle, I spotted four mountain goats watching me from a ridge. They had impressive silhouettes against the darkening sky.
Right below the basin, I ran into a group of backpackers, teens with adult leaders. A guy asked, “Are you a Wasatch 100 runner?” I said yes, but explained that I didn’t get in the race this year. He asked which races I was doing (Vermont, Leadville, Plain, Bear) and he commented that I was doing my own slam. Clearly he knew what ultrarunning was. I told him that I was going down Timp for my second time and planned to run through the night. The kids just stood there and listened with wide eyes, trying to comprehend going up the mountain multiple times. I told them to look for my green light during the night. As I continued on, I could hear the leader comment to the boys, “Now, you have no more excuses for whining about going up only once.”
Dusk arrived, and with a couple miles to go, I turned on my small headlamp that I held in my hand. As I approached groups of backpackers, I kicked it up into a higher gear to catch them fast and give them a show as I blasted past them on the trail. I was having great fun, but some knee pain told me my legs were starting to get tired of the constant downhill. To keep my mind off the pain, I sang at the top of my lungs to my MP3. I’m sure a group of boy scouts camped on a plateau thought I was nuts as they watched my lights moving fast down the trail and heard my voice.
I reached the trailhead after a 4:49 round trip. My goal was to keep all my trips under 5 hours, so despite my struggles, I was pleased. My stop at my car was 15 minutes. I chowed down a wonderful double bacon cheese burger. It really hit the spot.
Trip #3, mile 30-45: Up – 3:27, Down — 2:18, Total – 5:45
I pushed myself out of my car and headed up for a third time. Initially I felt pretty good and thought I was pushing an impressive pace. But when I checked my watch at various points, I could tell that my pace was pretty pathetic. After about a mile, I discovered that I only had one water bottle with me. Oh well, I would just have to keep filling up in the streams. But, I would miss the calories that were in the Gatorade. I realized that I didn’t have much food with me.
A nearly full moon was rising and was pretty impressive as it peeked over the summit. At times I could turn off my lights and climb by moonlight. It was very bright and I cast a distinct shadow that had me singing Cat Steven’s, “Oh, I’m being followed by a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow; Leapin and hoppin‘ on a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow.”
At the three-mile mark I was about 15 minutes slower than normal. One good source of entertainment were the lights of backpackers heading up for the night. I set my sights on them and enjoyed catching them quickly. One group was a small group of slow-moving boy scouts. Their leader asked me to inform a group camping above that they were coming, but were very late. One set of lights were stationary up on the mountain and seemed to be watching me. When I went by, I heard a voice away from the trail in the dark, “Pretty impressive pace!” I thanked him and went on. I didn’t think my pace was very impressive.
In the basin, I could not see any signs of the campers. It was past midnight and everyone must be asleep. Far away near Emerald Lake, I could see two lights flashing toward me. They watched me as I made my ascent up to the saddle. I was becoming very slow and tired. I stopped to rest and put on my longsleeves and gloves. I knew I was bonking. As I ascended toward the summit, I ate the rest of my food and felt better, but I knew I was in trouble. No more calories to intake for the trip down. At 2:00 a.m., I reached the summit hut again and signed my name for the third time. It was my 41st career summit.
I was ready to quit. I thought about it over and over again on the way down. I knew doing six trips was impossible today. I could easily do four, but it would be slow. Five would make me suffer terribly. My next 100-miler was Vermont 100. I just didn’t need this massive elevation training. I needed flat footspeed training. So I concluded that this would be my last trip for the day.
Below the basin, I started running into many groups of young hikers who had started their long hike after midnight. Twice as I ran by groups, someone said, “Hi Dave.” The second time, I stopped, looked back and asked, “Who is that?” But I didn’t receive a reply. I concluded that it must have been someone who had read my reports on the Internet and recognized my unusual red/green light combination.
A couple groups really annoyed me. They could clearly see me coming, but as I approached running very fast, they would stand in the trail two-wide, just watching. I would yell out, “Coming through, coming through, coming through…” and they would finally step aside with surprised looks on their faces. As I blasted by one group, a girl asked, “Is something wrong?” I guess she thought I running down fast to get some help or something. I didn’t say anything in reply but thought, “Yes, something is wrong, I’m not moving fast enough, and I’m tired!”
I reached the trailhead after a slow 5:45 trip. It was 4:18 a.m. and time to go home. My Triple Timp took 15:28. Another Triple would probably take me 18 more hours. That would be nuts. I had no more thoughts of going up again. My adventure was over. I drove home, took a quick shower, hobbled to bed and soon was fast asleep, dreaming of the trail.