Ibapah and Red Mountain

Photo stolen from here.

Ibapah peak is located in the Deep Creek Mountain range in Juab County on the Utah-Nevada border. It is the 8th most prominent peak in Utah. Until about two months ago I had never heard of this peak. Which is understandable due to it's remoteness. While planning these kinds of trips Steve and I will email back and forth. For this trip we often invented names for the peak since we'd never heard of it and Ibapah itself is a funny name. Here are a few of our inventions:

Sam, just reaching the saddle.

Ibapoo
Italktough
Iseepoo
PohPoRi
Isnowshoe

That last one was probably a sign of what was to come since we traversed at least 10 miles in as much as 14" of snow. Just the day before we decided to try for all three of the main peaks surrounding Ibapah, including Red Mountain and Haystack. Needless to say, the snow added a lot of extra time on our trip and we were unable to tag all three. This mountain would be most easily accessed in mid-late summer.

The prospect of running to a remote prominent peak is exhilarating. We were very excited to have the mountain to ourselves. We left the Salt Lake Valley around 5:00 a.m. and followed the Google directions through Wendover, down Highway 93, on to the Ibapah Road and then Upper Gold Hill Road, until we hit the ghost town. Then we took a wrong turn and had a fun adventure driving my little commuter car through the mountains on some 4 wheeling roads with a few worrisome spots. "Damn, we're in a tight spot." Eventually we connected to the road we wanted to be on, which took us right to Granite Creek Canyon Road. Steve and I both mentioned how interesting it is that we can feel completely comfortable running all alone in the middle of nowhere, 100's of miles away from civilization on a remote mountain top, but the possibility of getting our car stuck terrified us.

Steve, just starting out, snowy Ibapah awaiting.

The Granite Creek Canyon was absolutely stunning. We parked the car near the first stream crossing and set out running. The road continued up for about two miles then turns into a nice single track by mile three. It was steep, often as much as the Mt. Olympus trail. About mile four we strapped on the gaiters and refueled. I have had trouble maintaining energy all summer and this trip I tried eating a burrito. It went down rather easily. We had two more miles 'til the saddle, where it flattens out and opens up. That's my definition of serenity. A nice snow covered mountain with utter stillness hanging in the air.

Yummy Burrito.

It took us longer than we expected to get to the saddle. Taking a moment to plan our ascent, we decided to hit Red Mountain first. Otherwise, we might decide against it after descending Ibapah. Mentally, we had both ruled out Haystack already, but had not verbalized it yet. So we turned south and started the climb up Red Mountain. And climb we did. It was extremely steep and probably too dangerous for our own good. About 3/4 of the way up the wind howled and we quickly froze because we weren't moving very quickly. I looked at the path we had taken and what remained and said out loud, "this is probably not safe." I specifically referred to the shale we were climbing. I couldn't decide if the snow made it better or worse.

Up the shale!

Steve & Monkey on Red Mountain Summit. Ibapah behind.

We made it to the summit and snapped at least one photo too many then scurried down as quickly as possible to get out of the wind. Back on the saddle we rested and refueled while basking on some rocks in the sun. It had taken us the better part of two hours to climb Red mountain. It wasn't much more than a mile, but we gained more than 1000'. It reminded us of Anderson Pass to the top of King's. When we were ready to hit Ibapah, Steve turned and gave Red Mountain the one finger salute and renamed it Satan's Peak.

Several times on our way up Steve mentioned that he wanted to see some mountain lion tracks. Well, he got his wish. Immediately we started making a lot more noise than normal. Typically on our runs we will randomly yell out, "moose moose" or "bear there" to make extra noise to scare away such animals. At this point we added, "scat cat" to our repertoire.

Sam & Steve on our way up to Ibapah, in the background.

About five hours had passed and we had put in about nine miles. I felt great and was gung-ho to hit Ibapah, Steve, not so much. He didn't say anything for about another two miles, though. I think he entered what I hear so many 100-milers talk about—the pain cave. He suffered it silently until we were pretty close to the base of Ibapah and the last climbing we would do for the day. Steve voiced his concerns of time and cold. Apparently, he hadn't really warmed up since we touched Satan's horn. And it would be at least another hour to summit. The trip down would be pushing the time limit in the dark. I was committed to bagging Ibapah and voiced encouraging words. After a few moments Steve decided to think on it. I jumped past him and said, "I'm going for it."

Loner on Ibapah summit.

I thought after a moment to rest Steve would push past his personal wall and follow. After ten minutes or so I turned and saw that he was headed back. I had a moment of sadness where I felt that Steve had taken a part of me with him, that a bond had somehow been broken. I hoped that he felt that I had taken a part of him with me. I pushed on. Due to its steepness it was slow-going, with deeper snow too. Eventually, I made it to the summit, wha-hooed, left a monkey and looked for Steve. I couldn't see him anywhere. I took it easy on the way down, refueling with some margarita bloks. 3x the sodium. They weren't that bad tasting, but I could definitely tell that they were loaded with salt. And it was just what I needed. The relief was almost immediate and I gradually picked up my pace, often jumping a good 10' down the snow covered steepness. It was fun.

Steve's greatest moment.

As I reached Steve's turn around point I realized that we should have planned better. We hadn't mentioned where we were going to meet up again. I was somewhat worried at this point but carried on nonetheless. Honestly, I prayed for his safety the rest of the way down, until we met up again. Apparently, he did the same for me too (so he said anyway). I just followed his footsteps in the snow, which basically calmed the fears that I might have had.

Steve had taken it easy on the way down because he had wanted to make sure I was safe. Thus, we met up again with about two miles to go. I had run out of water not long before we reunited but I wasn't worried because it was all down hill, in the cold. I wasn't sweating and I was well hydrated. I was ok on energy but definitely starting to hit the point where my mind wandered and my vision bounced. I assume that a passerby would probably see my head rolling from side to side. Steve and I discussed the could have's. Steve was definitely the smarter one. He had packed a bevy sack, head lamp and matches. None of which I had. This time we were lucky enough to not need any of it, but you never know. The possibility of breaking an ankle or something is always there. Especially when you are jumping down a steep slope in the snow, alone. You never know what lies beneath.

Map and Stats of Ibapah and Red Mountain.

Huntsville Marathon

Going back to January of this year, I had struggled with my soleus calf muscles every time that I would try to do speed runs over at the high school track.  My right calf was so bad that I had to stop running to let it heal back in March.  However, since that break, I haven't had any issues with them.  Although, I should add that I have done almost zero speed or street running since then either.

With that background, I found myself after a successful summer doing one last race.  The race didn't start till 9:00am, which is really late in the racing world.  So I got a good nights sleep, and after the driving and shuttling, we found ourselves at the start line.  My wife's sister Annie was there, as was one of her friends Katie and also Annie's in-laws on the other side, Melanie and her husband Jake.  Since I didn't really prepare for this race, I was left with some hard facts:

• I had only trained less than 30 miles on the streets all year. 
• I had not done any real speed training either.  I think I ran once on the track trying to run at 7 min/mile pace
• My arches were incredibly sore from some recent trail runs on shoes that were at end of life.
• My hamstring was still hurting from the Skyline trail marathon.

I taped up my arches and stretched my hamstring and then the race began.  Annie cruised out at around a 6:30 min/mile pace, and so I smiled and let her run off.  My first mile was 6:48.   And while I was still (practically) breathing through my nose, my calves were having a conversation with each other about which one was going to start to tear first.  They made it till about mile 7.

From that point on, my calves were in searing pain.  I knew they were tearing, but I was waiting for the full blown rupture to happen.  The pop.  The point where running would no longer be possible.  But mile after mile, it never came.  The pain kept increasing slowly over each mile, and with it my speed was decreasing, but I was determined not to walk.  And as I crossed the finish line, I was relieved that I was able to run the entire race without walking (except the aid stations).  I was only a minute and a half behind my PR,  Considering this was my most painful race ever, I'm ok with that. 

A quick note on the race course and it's directors.  I think it would be hard to find an easier marathon course.  It descended over 4,000' and the very few inclines were so gradual they were almost unnoticeable.  The packet pickup was straight forward and there were no unnecessary frills that drive up the cost of other races.  They made a special effort at the aid stations to try to out-do each other, and they were as friendly and helpful as I've ever seen at a street race.  Also, them made an additional effort to get local bands (including the local bag-piper) to play at periodic locations throughout the last 5 miles.  So, I would certainly recommend this race to any new-comers.

As for me, now it's time for a long 7 week break.  I'll still get out and hit some light hearted trails with Sam a few times, but my overall training is limited to low impact, low intensity crap at the gym and on the bike.  After that, my sights will be locked on the Zion 100k in April. 


Steve Final Time:  3:49:15
Placed 14/29 in my division (men 30-34)
Placed 88/231 among all men
Placed 133/462 among all racers

Deseret Peak Loop

Sunrise on Deseret Peak.

Wish I would have remembered my gaiters.

This past week I got to go camping with the scouts in my ward to the Jamboral. I knew we were staying in the Tooele valley so I packed all my running gear just in case I could sneak away and hit Deseret Peak. When we arrived and were setting up camp I was trying to talk some of the older boys into going with me. No takers this time, which was probably a good thing due to the snow.

It was cold down in the valley when I rolled out of my tent around 5:00 a.m. I drove to the trailhead and got out to use the facilities. There's nothing like a nice cold toilet seat. I guess it's better than squatting. It was probably about 30 degrees. Perfect for running. I've missed the cold. As I started out, the trail was not covered in snow but about 1/2 mile up I was running in at least 3" the rest of the time. Good thing I remembered my long wool socks.

After 1.5 miles the sun had come up enough that I didn't need my headlamp and I started to recognize my surroundings. Unfortunately, I was not where I had planned to be. About a year ago, the OTM's ran this trail from South Willow Lake and bushwhacked it over to the main trail. I found myself in the same place, somehow I had missed the turnoff. Fortunately, I had done it before and knew where I needed to go, if not I probably would not have ventured to the summit. However, I wouldn't recommend it to the faint of heart when it's covered in snow. It was extremely steep. Luckily, I was able to follow a game trail with fresh deer tracks and only slipped a few times. I never fell though.

Summit selfie.

After returning to the main trail I only had a few switchbacks to the ridgeline and a mile to the top. The sun was out in full morning glory and warmed me up enough to take off my jacket. The snow got deeper and deeper. Most of it was only 4-5", but some of the drifts were as much as 2'. Needless to say, there was more than a little post-holing. The last mile to the top took me a lot longer than I expected, but do to the circumstances I didn't feel bad for the slow down.

Just as I reached the summit the wind picked up and chilled me to the bone. I took in the enormous panoramic views and headed down. The miles passed much quicker on the way down. Running downhill in the snow can actually be quite fun. I'd never taken the main trail all the way and I wasn't excited to bushwhack the steep slippery game trails I came up. So, I decided to take the trail down and follow it wherever it went, even if it added extra miles. But it didn't add extra miles. I passed a few surprised hikers starting up the trail. I could see what they were thinking. "Why in the world would someone be running down this trail so early in the morning and in the snow. I thought I got an early start. That guy be cray cray." I smiled at their astonished faces. Near the end, it started to turn north and I saw the trail marker that I missed. It was only about a 1/2 mile from the trailhead. That's what I get for starting in the dark on an unfamiliar trail.

Summit looking north at the Willow Canyons. That's my definition of serenity.

Map and stats of the Deseret Peak Loop trail.

New BST on Mt. Olympus

Mt. Olympus has been the iconic trail for the OTM's since the beginning. Our mantra has always been: "If you can do Olympus, you can do anything." It is one of the most strenuous hikes around with most of the trail climbing straight up offering no respite. The first time I ever climbed Olympus was about 4 1/2 years ago and since then I have lost count how many times I summitted. Last Saturday I set a new record on my summit time, 1:37:14, breaking my last time by four minutes. And my round trip time, 2:41:57, breaking it by more than 20 minutes. I hope to be able to break 90 mins. to the summit one day. That mountain is brutal on the quads. I long for the day it won't leave me crying the next day as I attempt to climb the stairs at my house.

Map of the new Bonneville Shoreline Trail under Mt. Olympus.

As I ran the trail I noticed two new trails. I had heard that a new Bonneville Shoreline Trail was being constructed in the area, but had no real knowledge on the matter. So this morning I set out to explore the new trails. The only downside was that I had to do it alone in the dark. Not that I mind being alone or in the dark, it just would have been nice to see a bit more than my headlamp's toilet bowl vision. I started at 4:30 a.m. and on my time limits I was able to run from the Olympus trailhead to the Z trail connector on Thousand Oaks Drive. It was about three miles one way. I followed another offshoot that went up from the Z trailhead, but my time ran out. I hope it gets well tracked out in the winter, but there are some parts that could be extremely dangerous in the snow if one were to fall off the trail. It is extremely steep on some sides. I can't wait until more of the trail is finished connecting all the way to Draper because the Mt. Olympus trailhead is, so far, the closest to my house.

Access point #1 at the 3rd switchback on the Olympus trail. 

Access point #2 at the 5th switchback.

Trail-Blazing the Pfeifferhorn

This has been a monumental summer. I've logged more miles than ever before, ran more trails than ever before, and often by myself, something I've never done before. My wife and family have been out of town this week, so I took advantage of the alone time and went exploring some new trails.

The Pfeifferhorn. 

The Pfeifferhorn has been on my sites for a while now. Coincidentally, many of my Wrangler buddies hit it the same day, but at a time I could not join them. It's located behind and directly east of Lone Peak. I think there are probably several trails that lead to it, but I'm pretty sure I took the most common route. Honestly, I didn't plan much for this trip other than looking over a few strava maps once or twice. Which would explain why I missed the Red Pine Trail turnoff on my first attempt. Tuesday evening I ran almost all the way up the White Pine Trail, having missed the turnoff. It's probably a good thing because I was racing the rain and right when I got up to the base of White Baldy the clouds thickened and obscured the view of the ridge-line. I lost the race and got thoroughly soaked, which made the run down in the dark a lot more interesting.

Red Pine Lake.

So the next day I went back up, having studied the route at least one more time. I took the Red Pine turn off and looped around to the next canyon, then up up up. The trail basically is a straight shot all the way to Red Pine Lake.

The entire cirque around the lake is ridge-lined with jagged crags that are both dangerous and beautiful. There's no easy way to the ridge, in fact I basically lost the trail. Which would explain why I had the following conversation with myself:

"Dude, where's the trail?"
"We're on it."
"No, I don't believe we are. We're in the middle of a giant rock slide."
"Look around, everything is a giant rock side. Where else could we go?"
"To find the trail."

I've always been a trail-blazer at heart. Sure, I looked for the trail the entire time. But I knew where I was going. I didn't need a trail to get me there. After a very steep ascent among boulders, scree, and thistle patches, I made it to the ridge line and could finally see my destination. The first thought that came to me was, "Really, I gotta go up that?"

First view of the Pfeifferhorn.

Summit Monkey with BCC Twin Peaks in the background.

This summer I've traversed several ridge-lines with crags, some of them I should have been scared of but I've always been kind of nimble on my feet. However, on none of those did I ever feel like Gollum. You know that part where he's climbing down the rock face head first. Well, needless to say it was probably the most dangerous ridge I've ever been on. I loved every minute of it and was a little bit scared.

The closer I got to the Pfeifferhorn the more the winds of doubt blew. It didn't look climbable and the previous day's run was wearing on me. Not until I traversed all the crags and looked straight up its face did I feel relieved. It wasn't as steep as it looked a little farther back and it was totally climbable. Don't get me wrong, I haven't seen any steeper trails, it wasn't easy, and it's not really safe. (You know, "Don't try this at home kids...")

The views were absolutely stunning. I had the summit all to myself for several minutes while I got my legs back underneath me then I slip and slided back down to the crags. Ran across them, as much as I could, and hey, what do you know, I found the trail. It was a nasty descent off the ridge. Steep, steep, steep.

Once past the lake, I was able to follow Craig Lloyd's mantra and "just floated" the rest of the way down. Just before the last mile where the Red Pine trail connects with the White Pine I came across a young lady hiking down, in my same direction. When I was about 50' and closing I noticed she had headphones on and probably didn't hear me coming, not that I was making any real amount of noise. So I called out, "good evening." No response. 35' and closing, "good evening" a little louder. Nothing. 20' - "hello" pretty loud. She was oblivious. At 10' I stopped and walked and quite a bit louder said "HELLO?" I thought for sure she would hear that, but nope. So, I just picked up my pace again and blew right by her. I think I gave her a heart attack. She gasped almost as loud as I had been yelling at her. Poor girl.

Did I really just come up that?

Map and Stats of the Pfeifferhorn.

Skyline Trail Marathon

When I first heard of the Skyline Marathon, I knew it would be a good course.  This was about 18 months ago.  Since then, I've run sections of this trail over and over again, loving every minute of it.  This trail has some absolutely magnificent views of Ogden, Liberty, and Pineview, and has some of the most runable trails around.  If you want the details of the trail, check out the map above.

Jake Selfie on final stretch of Eyric climb

As is customary for any race, I went to the packet pickup/pre-registration the day before the race.  This one was at the new Striders in Ogden.  I got the packets for Sam and myself, and then reminded them that Jake would only be running the half.  See, Jake apparently had some massive blisters on his heel from our run up Little Black last week, and was feeling somewhat... blah blah blah... chickened out.  Basically, he called the race directors and asked if they would switch him to the half marathon instead of the full.  In truth, they call his race a "Half plus 1," since it is 14.1 miles from the North Ogden Divide to the finish line.  I watched as they highlighted my name in the full marathon book, then Sam's, and then went to the half marathon book and highlighted Jake's name.  I mention this because it seems that while they got the packet pickup fixed for him correctly, they never bothered to move Jake's name to the half marathon "start-line-check-in" sheet as well, which meant he was unable to check in at the start line, and they ended up officially giving him a DQ because of that.  It sucked for him, and I can almost count it as strike one against the race organizers, but I guess he deserved it for getting his wuss on just two days before the race.

Jake and his buddy Johnny

So... here's the rundown:  The shuttle from Eden to the start line at the North Fork Campground in Liberty left at 5:15, so that meant another early wakeup call to get there on time.  Pre-race checkin was at 5:45,  and we got to talk to one of our new running buddies Nate Younger, who was running this race for the second year and wanted redemption over his >6 hour time from last year. The race started at 6:01am.  Off we went.

The first mile was the usual march as 77 people all tried to find their uphill speed on a single track
trail.  He passed her. I passed him. She passed me. I followed that dude until he had to walk.  Something like that.  In all, the first section of the race is 6 miles on a gentle uphill climb gaining about 3,000'  Most of it was runable.  We all got to enjoy the sunrise as we slowly climbed up the east face of the mountain.  But just as everyone was enjoying the sunrise, we passed what may have likely been the most pissed off bunch of yellowjackets I've ever seen.  They really didn't seem to appreciate runner after runner stomping the ground as they slept.  They swarmed and started stinging as many runners as they could.  The girl right in front us us got stung once, but they guy in front of her claimed to have been stung 14 times.  Also, Nate claimed a couple stings as well.  Sam and I both escaped un-stung.  I did have to chuckle at everyone else's expense on that one.  As we approached the saddle, I figured there were about 25-30 people ahead of us.

Sam somewhere on the first climb

At the saddle was the 1st aid station.  This was my first marathon with a handheld water bottle.  And so far I was liking it.  I was able to quickly fill it up again from the water cooler and take off on the 6.5 mile downhill run toward the North Ogden Divide.  The quick stop made a huge difference as I was able to pass about 5 people right off the bat.  At this point, Sam and I cruised downhill.  It was surprising to me that not one person passed us on the downhill.  We actually passed about 4 more people on the way down, running about a 7:30 per mile average.  And it felt absolutely awesome to run that fast.  We caught up to Nate just as we approached the N. Ogden Divide aid station.

Fist pump.  Didn't get stung.

Again, A quick fill up for my water bottle, and away I went.  From this point it was a powerhike up about 2,000' over only 3 miles.  I spent the climb trying to keep up with Nate, and Sam fell slightly behind.  This was the last time I saw Sam.  Once you reach the top of Eyrie peak, you're done with the climbing for the rest of the race.  The aid station at the top was a nice sight.  My mouth was pretty dry and my water bottle was empty.  My Clif bloks were running low and I knew I would have a hard time getting anything down at the aid station,   But I grabbed a handful of trail mix (which took me about 7 minutes to finally get down my gullet), and took off on the downhill.  Again, I went pretty quick.  This time I stayed at about a 8:30 pace on the 7 miles downhill.  Another lady and I started pacing off each other and encouraging each other for the rest of the downhill.  There's the difference between a trail race and a street race.  Complete strangers become the best of friends as you encourage each other.  There are no strangers on a trail race.   (well... unless you count that one chick on the first downhill who refused to allow us to pass).

Me approaching the 1st aid station.

Sam Selfie near Eyrie peak.

Reaching the bottom of the downhill at Windsurfers Beach, I was spent.  My body was needing more calories than I had planned for, and again, nothing at the aid station looked like I would be able to get it down very well without losing much time.  I buckled down and started the last 4 miles at a much slower pace.  It was a nicer section of trail than I had anticipated.  It was mostly rolling single track, in the shady trees along Pineview reservoir. The last two miles were pretty lonely as I saw no other runners.  My hamstrings were giving me trouble, so I kept expecting to get passed.  I guess most of the other runners were about as tired as I was.  As I was approaching the 5 hour mark, I suddenly saw the blue arch.  I picked up the pace and was just barely able to squeeze out a sub 5 hour finish.  4:59:34.  I'll take that.

My foot.  Still battling the nice blister I
picked up on Kings Peak.

Nate finished about 5 minutes after me, and Sam came cruising in about 2 minutes after Nate.  He had a real strong finish, and didn't look very tired.  Ryan Lauck was the only other person at the finish line that I recognized.  He had an amazing finish time of 4hr: 15min.  Nice work Ryan.

After 5 days, they finally posted the race results.   And ... well, Sam managed to bribe his way into the record books.  They have him posted as the third fastest time ever on the course.  You should be proud Sam.

Overall, we were a little disappointed at the organization of the race.  However, the beauty of the course, the great running conditions of the trails, and people running along side of us more than made up for it.  I'm thinking I'll do it again next year.




Official Results:

Steve:  4:59:32.  20th place out of 66 men.  24th place out of 77 overall. Sam:  3:38:00 (HAHAHA)... actually 5:07:16.  26th place out of 66 men.  30th place overall. Jake:  Disqualified  ... actually 2:24:41.  11th place out 40 men.  16 out of 68 total runners.

S.T.S. 11.2.5 (um... I lost count) - Grandview was a Little Black.

King Crag on one of the extremely dangerous crags leading up to Little Black.

Jake and Steve, traversing the crags.

The summer has flown by. We've ran more trails and bagged more peaks than ever before. As always, the highlight and climax of the summer is the Quest for King's Marathon, which was a little more than a week ago. An after thought, almost forgotten is the Skyline Marathon coming up this Saturday. As the last preparation for the race we hit two peaks and ran more than 20 miles over the last two days. Some may say that a better taper is required the week of the race. Maybe. After this morning's run we feel loosened up and ready for Saturday. Time will tell.

Little Black is located in the Black Mountains just north east of the University of Utah. It can be accessed from several starting points along the Bonneville Shoreline Trail. The route we took gave us a little more than 10 miles round trip and starts on Hilltop Road at Morris Reservoir in the Avenues. The first few miles are easily runnable on the BST and then the last two climb what seems straight up the mountain. Once on top of the ridge line the trail gets a bit harry. The ridge has very steep slopes on both sides and often seemingly untraversable rock crags. One misstep to the right or one to the left could lead to a nasty fall.

Map and Stats of Little Black Peak.

Summit Monkeys.

Jake put his nipples back on at the top.
Steve was...I'm not sure what he was doing.

Grandview Peak has been on Steve's sights for a while now. It is just around the corner from Little Black but is not as easily accessed. After a few failed attempts on both our parts I finally tagged it last week and together we bagged it this morning. In order to avoid extra mileage and time constraints we decided to drive up the Skyline Drive and park about five miles from the summit. The view was indeed grand, all along the trail and from the summit itself.

Steve, silhouetted in the early dawn.

I whacked the bush!

The Wasatch 100 race uses the same trail that goes by Grandview. A small offshoot of about 1.5 miles leads along a separate ridge to Grandview. If you want to call it a trail. Oh, there's a trail, but it is overgrown and requires much bushwhacking. The final assent is quite steep but shortlived. It actually mirrors Little Black in some ways, steep on both sides, but with less crags. There are a few, but mostly it has an easily accessible trail just below the rocky ridge. I am surprised that this peak is not tagged by more people.

Summit Monkey on Grandview.

Steve with The Face on Grandview summit.

Map & Stats of Grandview Peak.

Sam, with his best douchy face.