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