Capitol Reef 100 - Adventure Run

Aquarius Plateau, Boulder Mountain, West of Capitol Reef

by Sam

To the west of Capitol Reef National Park you'll find the Aquarius Plateau, some 6,000' higher. It's the highest plateau in North America. How high? you might ask. Well, it stays right around 11,000' most of the time. Living under the Wasatch Mountain Range puts this in perspective. Just picture yourself looking up to your favorite peak, like Timpanogos or Lone Peak. That's 11,000' and that's the elevation of about half the Capitol Reef 100 course. Needless to say, it's high, for a long long time.

Elevation Profile stolen from the Capitol Reef 100 site.

This was the inaugural year for the race. Whether that had to do with the small number of participants or not, I don't know, but only 29 people started the 100. I finished as number 14 out of 16 total finishers, which means 13 people DNF'd (did not finish). Everyone I talked to seemed to use the word "brutal" to describe the course, even the 50 milers. It was definitely difficult but it did not seem extreme to me. However, I do a fair amount of adventure runs and peak bagging where there are no trails or where boulder fields must be traversed. Phil Lowry best described the trail, "Trail??...  Cairn!...Flag!...Cairn!...Trail??... F@!#" This plateau is one of the most remote areas around and seldom used so the trail isn't really obvious and the markings weren't always easy to follow.

Burnt forest mist. (sounds like an ice cream flavor)

Sunrise

Morning Mist

As the race started we enjoyed cool temps and foggy skies, which lasted most of the morning. At the first hill we walked a bit and Steve recited, "I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful." from the movie What About Bob? A fellow runner laughed and when he saw us again at mile 56 he recited it back to us. The first 4 miles were on 4x4 roads through beautiful red rock. Then the scenery changed to pines, aspens and some burnt forest on single track. The last OTM adventure was Peakfest, which also had a lot of mist, so everyone got to enjoy our singing of Paloma.

Lady Friends

The first Aid Station (mile 6) seemed to come too soon and Steve and I both felt good so we blew through it without really stopping. A mistake we regretted about four miles later when we ran out of food and bonked with about 3 more miles before the next aid station. The burnt forest was eerie with the dense mist. The trail was overgrown with new growth making it hard to go fast. I rolled my ankle on an unseen rock which normally wouldn't be a problem but unfortunately I sprained my ankle about three weeks ago and it's still tender. I taped it tight and wore a compression sock but this roll had me walking for a few minutes. The people at the next aid station (mile 13) were making pancakes so we refueled and after another mile felt much better. During this time we passed lake after lake after lake. We enjoyed sharing the trail with some lady friends who were also doing their first 100 (they didn't finish). During this time we also graced the air with Barbara Ann and Sam, You Made the Pants Too Long. Arriving at an aid station we are always asked "what can I get you?" Another runner once replied, "a million dollars", Steve and I immediately broke into If I had a Million Dollars.

Sam stacking a cairn, don't want anyone to get lost.

Steve climbing the plateau

The climb up to the plateau was steep, rocky and windy. Usually on climbs everyone settles into a groove and gets quiet as they push through the pain. Instead, I sang Let's Go Fly a Kite. After we crested I don't remember much of the trail over the course of the next two aid stations (ending around mile 32). I remember enjoying the view along the ridges and the company, which consisted of Steve, and Dan from Minnesota, who we passed back and forth now and then. He was in the pain cave struggling with the altitude. It seemed that our easygoing attitude helped him a bit. He was at the finish line when I crossed it and was good company but honestly I didn't recognize him dressed differently and cleaned up. I sat and talked with him for 20 mins before realizing who he was. Steve did for more than an hour, so I guess I win there. 

Sam & Steve on the ridge, Capitol Reef far behind.

Dan & Steve in one of the meadows.

Steve and I felt really good leaving the aid station at mile 32. We had made good time on the plateau, not really suffering from the effects of the high elevation. Unfortunately, this was not the case for many people. We began to pass more people one at a time and continued to maintain our lead ahead of our lady friends. We descended the stock trail fairly quickly despite it being a nasty steep trail that the cattle go up and down. Peter van Horn called it "the waterfall of rocks." My mind suddenly turned toward the not soon enough future when I'd have to climb back up this nasty trail. I didn't look forward to that. When we arrived at the last aid station before the 50 mile turn around we came upon a handful of people who didn't seem to be doing well. We refueled with the regular 3 glasses of coke, ensure, potatoes and candy, grabbed our headlamps and jackets and took off.

Steve showing a face of "what the heck?" to the stock trail

The remaining 8 miles to the turn around were practically all down hill through one continuous large aspen grove. The miles flew by over glorious single track as we started to cross paths with the people ahead of us already making the return trip. I wondered at the ease of these downhill miles that would not be so easy when we had to come back up them. We ran into Davy Crockett, practically the only person we knew before the race, about 2 miles from the turn around. We shared a moment of encouragement and went on our way. We were pleased to come in to the half way mark under 15 hours with a time of 14:49:54.

The Aspen Groves.

The trip back up through the aspens was not as difficult as I expected. We left the turnaround with a dude named Bryan but after about a mile he decided to push on faster than us. I was feeling good but wanted to reserve my strength for the climb up the stock trail. Bryan didn't get terribly ahead of us because we could see his headlamp every so often. We passed Dan and the lady friends, they looked cheery but all decided not to go on at the 50 mark. When we got to the aid station I was sleepy and told Steve I needed 10 mins to sleep. He said to take 20. We both lied down on some cots for about 7 mins. and didn't sleep so we decided to push on.  It was about midnight. Jeff from Arizona said he'd be right behind us and caught up about half way up the waterfall of rocks. I went painfully slow up the steep nasty climb. There were two switchbacks too many. But finally we got back up on the plateau and started the game of find the next flag marker.

Sunset.

After leaving the 50 mile mark, Steve had two main goals. Make it back up the stock trail and then make it to dawn. One down. The trail was much more windy than I remembered. It seemed to snake through trees and around boulders endlessly. Horseshoe after horseshoe. It seemed to double back on itself needlessly. We did pretty well with the route finding but got lost a few times nonetheless. In the wee hours of dark and dreariness we banded together to forge through the night. It was cold, below freezing, in fact. Much colder than Steve and I planned for. Steve had on his short sleeve, a base layer long sleeve and my short sleeve, which made him look fat. I had a long sleeve and a light rain jacket. I was ok, Steve was cold. Suddenly we came upon a runner sitting on a rock. Here's how our conversation went:

Us: "How's it going?"

Him: "I'm trying to get to the Long Lake aid station."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I left Pleasant Lake around 6:00 p.m. and have been walking around in circles getting lost."

"6:00? Dude, that was like 9 hours ago. (It was now around 2:30 a.m.)"

"The last few runners told me how to get there but I just keep coming back to this spot."

"Are you hungry? Do you need anything?"

"I'm ok, I've been carrying my drop bag from the last aid station because I didn't want to wait for it when I dropped. Can you tell me how to get to the next aid station?"

"No, you're coming with us."

If the dude had been wandering around alone for some nine hours I wasn't about to leave him or let him go on. He didn't seem to need further convincing and gladly joined us. The next hour and a half I began to doze while I walked, stumbling a few times. The aid station at mile 66 must have been moved because it seemed like it took an hour longer than it should have to get there. When we arrived, sometime after 4:00 a.m., we were all wasted in one way or another and collapsed onto the cots and chairs to rest. I tried to sleep under a thin sleeping bag and couldn't get warm. Steve sat in a chair in front of the propane heater. Jeff took another cot and our lost friend the other chair. After about 45 mins. of restlessness I asked how everyone was. All I got were some moans and groans. I rolled over and continued to attempt sleep. After about half and hour more I said firmly "we gotta get out of here."

Not sure what to think about this...

About this time two other people caught up to us at the aid station. Jester skirt lady who we'd seen the previous day and an older looking fellow. Steve said he was done and asked what I was doing. I just looked at him. My stomach was a tiny bit uneasy but my spirits were high. He said, "you're going to drop aren't you." I replied, "don't say that" and got off the cot and readied myself to leave with the new arrivals. Jeff did too. It was cold bu dawn was upon us, goal number two met. But Steve,'s phlegm cough was flaring up in full force and he didn't feel that he could carry on. So, Jeff and I along with skirt lady and the other guy left.

It was around 6:20 a.m. We'd wasted too much time there and were now looking at the possibility of running too close to the cut off times. What's more, we missed a turn and came to a familiar looking meadow. Despite the fact that there were no flags we took the path we thought should be there. Luckily, Jeff talked us into going back and finding the trail because it did one of those horseshoe bends and we would have gotten way off trail. Route finding continued to be an issue but with the rising of the sun our spirits lifted considerably and we pushed to the next aid station.

I felt really good, tired of course, but not sore or sleepy or hungry. We were ok on time cutoffs so things were looking good. This was the last aid station on the high plateau. I snuck ahead of the group on some downhill portions and maintained a steady lead until I started getting texts from everyone at the same time. The wife, and fellow OTM's Jeff and Chris Krash wanted to know how I was doing. Due to the texting the others caught up to me. Jeff and skirt lady maintained a slow but steady pace. Tony, the older fellow (by older, I mean not young like me. He's probably like 50 or something), maintained pace with me. We had a good time talking peaks and trails in the Wasatch. Finally, we hit the steeper descent off the plateau and I let gravity carry me down. I didn't see Tony again until I was leaving the next aid station. Unfortunately, there was a miscommunication with the cutoff times and the leader of the aid station asked us for our bib numbers. I willfully surrendered my bib and informed the young kid that he could return it to me at the finish line because I wasn't stopping and I'd make it there before the overall cutoff, if not before. It was 11:27 a.m. and we had 19 more miles. The race had been going for 29 1/2 hours.

Speaking of aid stations, for each of the last three I started to see them around every corner for about a mile before they actually showed up. Call it a mirage, a hallucination or what have you but it always ended up being huge boulders or fallen trees. The weirdest on by far was when I saw a fellow OTM, Matt Ricks, sitting on a fallen tree waiting for me. When I got to him however he had gone. The mind does some interesting things when you're past all limits of fatigue and sanity. I guess you could call it hallucinating but to me it just seemed like my mind was trying to find reason to everything.

Feeling pumped to live up to my word and beat the clock I pushed through the ups and downs around the next few lakes. The time flew by and suddenly I was at the next aid station (13 miles left). Once again, Tony came in right as I was leaving. We exchanged encouraging words and I think I didn't see him again until the finish. It was getting hot and I was entering the exposed burnt forest section. That part was awful. Up and down, in and out, around, repeat. 50K and 50 mile runners started to pass me. Phil Lowry passed me. I'd been doing the math for a while and I knew that if I maintained 20 min. miles I'd make it. I felt pretty good but didn't push any limits.

Sprinting across the finish line. Photo by Ben Light.

When I had about 7 miles left I heard another 50 mile runner coming up behind me. I didn't recognize him at first but it was my buddy Matt van Horn. Later at the finish he said I had a glazed over look, I was stumbling, and I had slurred speech. I was coming up on 34 hours. I was happy to be with someone I knew. He mentioned what almost everyone had, that the course was brutal and he didn't know how I'd done it twice. We chit chatted for a moment then he offered to pace me to the finish. It was a gracious offer but I didn't want him to slow down for me so I told him I'd keep up as long as I could. We blew threw the last aid station and started the last 6 miles of downhill over 4x4 trails.


I don't know how I did it but I was able to keep up with him. We hovered around 11 min. miles until the last one where, according to Matt, I was running at 5:00 min. mile pace. I've done countless runs with significantly less mileage and haven't been able to sprint to the end. I was amazed. It almost didn't seem real, as if I were watching myself from the sidelines. As with all ultras I was greeted with applause and happy people despite being one of the last to finish the 100 miler. I was winded and stumbled around as I got high fives and pats on the back. I couldn't find my voice and Steve said I sounded like a girl, but I was done. My finish time was 34:58:58, just under 35 hours. I know that if MVH hadn't caught me I'd have finished much closer to 36 hours. I wouldn't have pushed it that much. I owe him a debt of gratitude for just being at the right place at the right time.

One of many to come.

I enjoyed resting with friends at the finish line and being off my feet, which apparently had a few blisters. I was glad to have the tape off my ankle and that I didn't further injure it. Before this race I had my doubts of ever accomplishing this dream. It was a dream and passed by like one. But it's a dream that calls to me. One that I'm sure I'll find myself in again soon enough.

Hangout after the race with the WMW. Photo by Greg McIff