Visit To Elbert And The Frenasco Fiasco

Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.

- Rachel Carson

    The weather has been crazy; no snow for weeks, sunshine for days.  I fear for summer wildfires, the Front Range draining the remainder of our lakes, and all that but, man, I do love running in the mountains.

         Fortunately for me, so do Mike and Luna.  We went up Elbert last Saturday, settling for a 2:00 start and excited to be racing the sun.  As expected, it was snowy beneath the pines.  Once we got above treeline, we were able to move a lot more efficiently.  Being so late in the day, the southeast ridge cast shadows over our route and left us cold for about 40 minutes before welcoming the sun once again on the ridge.  We reached the summit in a minute or two over 2 hours, and made it back to the car a minute or two before 3 hours.  We ran really fast on the way down the ridge, it was sick.

Ridge to the summit

S. Elbert and La Plata in the background

Tried to fly and got denied

     The picture above leads me into my next outing.  The mountain on the right there is French Mountain (13,960 ft), the ridge runs west then south cresting Frasco(just barely in the light), and Casco(prominent in left of frame), as well.  I see these peaks from my window every morning, as they shoot out of the valley between Elbert and Massive.

     Anyways, the route, we'll call it the Frenasco, made for quite the fiasco.  My starting point was at the Mt. Massive TH.  I began by skiing about 2 miles up the road to the junction with FR 110.J, continued skiing up this road until it because unreasonably steep, which was about another mile.  It was my belief that the choice to ski would greatly enhance the fun-factor, in reality though, the snow sucked for the first couple of miles and was so deep and so steep in the next mile it was never all that great.  In fact, I quickly realized that it would be far more beneficial to have snowshoes.  

Fresh Tracks

Icy Paths

     I carried on up the road towards Iron Mike Mine.   The snow was just below my knees for the entire slog.  It was slow moving...

The basin begins opening up

      I contemplated the ideal route to French's summit, but acted rashly instead of seizing it.  Ideally, I would have continued up the gulch to Iron Mike Mine, which was probably about a mile away, but really the going was so slow that every extra mile up the basin was one more I'd have to walk down.  So I had hoped to summit via French's east slopes, and return down the ridge to my skis.  

Elbert's slopes looked far more appealing than my route

     Gaining vertical was incredibly tedious.  I was keen on the prospect of utilizing rocks versus snow in the ascent after what I'd been up to the last couple of hours.  The rock route proved interesting, as each piece of talus was surrounded by a couple of feet of snow, making any misstep a bit frustrating (particularly for the pup).

Rock hoppin'

      We got up to 12,500 ft when I decided to turn around.  I think the ideal equation for this approach would be today+one human+two snowshoes-one dog.  Sorry for a crumby day, Luna.

       I was able to run a little bit through the powder on the way down, reached the skis and began to ski.  The route was about 12 miles total and took me about 4 hours.  I've got to get out here again, and look forward to completing this line and extending it over Elbert's summit.

Outside Is The Best Side

    "In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer"

-Albert Camus

      I've made my way up the Halfmoon Creek drainage each of the past two days, and it has rekindled a desire to explore in me that warms my soul.  When Mel and I first decided to move to Leadville, we set up camp out here and froze our tails off for a week or so before finding a place to live.  It is home to the trailhead from which I first ran out into the sky above the trees, it's hosted some of my greatest mountain running efforts, and some days of demoralizing defeat.  It is nice there.

    Yesterday Luna and I cruised out to the Mt. Massive Trailhead (Elbert's was snowed in),  I worked a bit in the morning, so we didn't get out there until about 2:00 leaving me with no intention of summiting Elbert.   I did, however want to pack the trail down a bit following last weekend's snow.  I also figured that if someone had made the first tracks someone else may be inclined to follow them at least as far as I did or extend them even further.  This is what I encountered:

Before

   I made my way back to the trunk of my car and retrieved some snowshoes, the snow was close to 2 feet deep...  I then figured out how to put on snowshoes, pined briefly over how cumbersome they seemed and took off.  Running in snowshoes isn't easy, it saps a lot of energy.  I'd like to try running in some bonafied running snowshoes sometime, I imagine it's quite a bit better than the ones I've got at present.

Turquoise Lake disguised in white.

    Up and up we (we being me and Luna) went until we came to the clearing just before you burst out of the trees.  It was here I decided to turn it back for the day- it had been an excellent workout and the sun was tucking away more quickly than I'd wished.

After

    When I arrived back at the trailhead, the sun seemed to be balancing on the tip of one of Elbert's North summits, mesmerizing.  Then it was gone.

      Today marked the first day Mel and I had off together in several weeks.  We've shared a morning here, some evenings there, but this was the first day that was all ours!  We tossed some snacks, skis, and the pup into the car and headed back to Halfmoon.  Parking at the Massive TH, again, we headed further up the drainage via the 4x4 road that crosses many excellent campsites and sends you to the N. Halfmoon Lakes TH, from which you can access Massive's summits via the south slopes.

She always finds a way to get her kicks

My ladies

     We skied for about two and a half hours, whooping and hollering all the while.  The valley was quiet and peaceful, it felt like it was all ours again, much like in early May when we arrived.  Except now Luna is with us!

One cold creek

Mel climbing- Elbert's northernmost summit seen above

Cruising downhill

Climbing...

Some spontaneous air, and a near accident...

     

Resolution: Elbert All Winter

    A couple of days ago Luna and I went for a run up Mt Elbert from the N. Elbert Creek TH, the namesake creek looked like this:

Amazing that the trees survive after living in ice for months and months!

      Below treeline the snow was pretty well packed with a few exceptions.

      As we breached treeline, the footsteps were swept away and a beautiful, unbroken trail lay before us, my first split came at the first switchback above treeline.  The split on my fastest time to date was right at 40 minutes, this time (likely due to the snowslogging and a month off of running) was about 1 hour 13 minutes.  Pretty big difference there.

     I did take it pretty casually.  I came way overdressed, too.  I quickly took off my hat, gloves, and jacket in the woods, and didn't don them again until I was up above 12,500 ft.

     That kind of got me thinking:  With the amount of snow we've been receiving, or lack thereof, it isn't unreasonable to think that a route up Elbert could be maintained all year.  Yeah, its wicked cold and there are a lot of days where going up wouldn't be fun or safe, but there are still going to be days when its 30 degrees and sunny.  I just need to seize those after the big snows and do a lap.  I'll lug along some snowshoes and microspikes, if necessary.  It would make the most sense to keep the South Elbert Trail packed.  I figure I can ski up the road a couple of miles to the trailhead, if I don't feel like running it some days, ski the CT to the trailhead, and then run up the ridge.  

     Besides, its a beautiful mountain with beautiful views.  Getting back up there and running around in the sky, glissading down pitches, and wearing myself out, made me remember that running brings me a lot of fulfillment and allows me to sleep completely awestruck at the beauty of our world.

Massive in the distance from just above treeline.

Nearing the summit, looking at Massive, Oklahoma, and the Halfmoon Basin

Quintessential summit-shot

     It took me 2 hours and 10 minutes to get to the top, thats exactly 1 minute slower than my fastest round-trip time.  The descent was an hour, making the day about 9 miles in 3:10, with 4,500 ft of vertical.

    If anyone wants to join me on a winter run up Elbert, just pick a warm day (25+)and let me know!

Ski Mo'

    I've realized this week that I am very much driven by results.  I like to have tangible, maybe statistical, evidence that I am progressing in some way, be it as an athlete or as a person.

     I've attempted to satisfy this vice in many ways over the past few years:  In school I pursued the mastery of a foreign language, through which I could daily display deeper understanding or, perhaps, I would find myself floundering.  At this point, I would concede that I needed to do conjugation repeats, or spend an hour or two just writing stories, which I would then reread an analyze every grammar concept that I attempted to use, identifying what qualified that as necessary in it's context, or maybe hit up the thesaurus to find words that helped avoid redundancy or enhanced the flow and made my works more cohesive.  It's a never-ending pursuit, I'll never be the best, but I'll be better than I was.

     And then there was running.  It's really no surprise to me at all that participation in running events is on the rise across nearly every demographic in America.  I mean, think about it, the "American Dream" boasts that progress is desirable and can be interminable.  We are taught from grade school that we should be recognized for our progress and achievement.  We strive, in whatever we do, to surpass arbitrary limits (often self-imposed) and redefine our paradigm of what it means to be "me".  Thus, we run.  We go for a jog around the block, we sign up for a 5k, we redefine "me".  I guess the new "me" is a runner now, maybe not a runner, but now I know that I can run.  We then realize that there will always be someone faster than us.  But, HA!, progress can continue, because regardless of how fast everyone else may be, I can always become faster than that other "me".

      One of the things running offers to an individual is the opportunity to have endless progress at their fingertips, and it comes with ever-present accountability.  There are umpteen different distances to run, now do them faster, more confidently.  There's an infinite number of routes, all of which you can run faster than you did today.  And if you don't, just retrace your (figurative) steps towards progress by glancing at a training log, or by reflecting on a day you lounged around watching Netflix instead of getting out and taking ownership of your benchmarks and dreams.

      I guess this is one of the main reasons that this blog exists at all.  I feel like when my goals and steps towards progress are published here and shared with all who read it, it helps to solidify those dreams and past activities as a part of the "me".

     Like I said, this week I discovered that I'm driven by my progress.  This is how it came about:  There is snow everywhere here.  I could run, there are some well-packed trails, I have waterproof shoes, but it feels a bit more tedious than I tend to like it.  All of my standby routes, on which I routinely monitor my progress, take significantly longer than normal and, thus, I don't receive the same gratification with their completion.

      I was often asked upon arriving in Leadville, "You can't really run through the winter here... what the heck are you going to do??"  I kinda thought that if I really couldn't run, I'd just sit and wish I could run.  As I was saying, there is snow everywhere.  Wednesday I put on a pair of skis for the first time and went out for a couple of hours with some friends and had a blast.  Thursday morning I went again for a couple of hours, then another hour that night.  I watched some youtube videos and the likes on Classic Cross-Country Skiing technique was completely entranced by the ease with which these folks could propel themselves.  Friday, I went out and packed down a .5 mile track that I skied repeatedly, practicing the techniques I had seen and heard of, getting better every time.  Saturday and Sunday were more of the same, making the motions more fluid and effortless, practicing my balance, and practicing techniques at higher speeds(ouch).

     Needless to say, I'm hooked.  Hooked on cross country skiing, hooked on progressing.  I'm going to ski mo' and mo', to the point where I will be able to race confidently in the Breckebeiner 60k at the end of March.

    

  

The Decalibron

      From Kite Lake, just outside of Alma, CO, there is a fantastic loop that takes you over the summits of Mt Democrat (14,148 ft), Mt Cameron (14,238 ft), Mt Lincoln (14,286 ft), and Mt Bross (14,172 ft).  The loop is widely known as The Decalibron.

      I had wanted to do this at some point during the summer, but those plans never came to fruition.  Next thing you know, you've got snow, ice, strong winds, and more enthusiasm than ever.  Luna and I met up with Mike and Sage in Frisco and headed a bit south to the trailhead.  The adventure was great, the route to first summit (Democrat) was easily the most hectic of the day, as it featured large patches of ice and a couple of feet of snow at times.  After the first summit the weather became more favorable as snow stopped blowing and the sun graced us with its rays every once in a while.

     The loop took us almost exactly three hours and is better described by this awesome video Sage complied than any words I can string together.  So here you are:

      It's always great to share the trails and mountains with these two humans, but little compares to the enthusiasm and vitality that Luna brings to every outing.  Love that dog.   

     Thanks for reading!

The Zion Traverse

      It all started with a simple text message: "Jon, you still want to do a long run?  How about Zion Traverse first thing next week?"  No way I could swing it, I responded.  About 5 minutes later I decided there was no reason I shouldn't try to make it work, and a plan was born.

      I called Mike shortly thereafter and, despite only three days notice, he was able to hop on board as well.  Monday morning I scooped Mike up from Frisco and we began the nine hour drive to Zion, arriving a little after sundown.  Carolyn and Rob had scouted out the startpoint and the checkpoints from which Caro would distribute aid and develop her own perspectives on the park.

      The 5:00 alarm didn't come a second too soon, we were ready to get moving.  After some breakfast and coffee we drove to the park's east entrance, donned our headlamps, and hopped on the East Rim Trail.  The start time was 6:35.

       After about 30 minutes of slogging through the sandy trails, the sun set to work on the canyon walls, painting the top a brilliant red that would slowly drip down over the coming hours bringing a vibrant orange to the walls that would follow us down as we began our descent.

A less than novel photo, but the sunrise is monumental.

At the crack of dawn. Photo: M. Ambrose

      The trail rolled at modest grades during the opening miles- we laughed and sang as deer bounded every which way, equally enjoying each undulation of the trail, it seemed.  The trail began to hug the rim closely, offering awesome views to which the camera does no justice, then over the edge it went.  The trail down was a fun ride as the trail then turned to a series of cairns guiding us across the slickrock deeper and deeper into the Zion Canyon.

Mike, enjoying some of the first strides below the rim.

So small in comparison. Photo by M. Ambrose

Photo by M. Ambrose

Mike and Rob having a stinkin' good time.

A tunnel blasted for a convenient sidewalk

This wall is far bigger and more overhanging than it appears.  The colors are stunning, too.

Mike peeing peering into the Zion Canyon around mile 11

Rob was stoked, to say the least.

       We descended the paved trail down to the Park's scenic drive. After a mile of road we arrived to our first checkpoint (mile 13), where we refilled water before beginning the day's biggest climb up to Angel's Landing and, ultimately, back up to the canyon's West Rim.

Beginning the ascent towards Angel's Landing

      We saw a handful (maybe 10 or 12) of people on and around Angel's Landing, which was almost all of the people we saw.

Trail up to Angel's Landing

Photo by M. Ambrose

A little mid-climb Tai Chi?

My dudes, on the last incline below the walls of Zion Canyon.

Almost out.

      Once we reached the lip of the canyon we opened the map to figure how long we had left before we'd get to refill and refuel at the next checkpoint.  The map revealed that, though we thought we had 4 or 5 miles left, we actually had 10 miles left.  Oops, we severely misjudged, which meant that none of us had carried along a sufficient supply of food or water to keep our energy high through this stretch.  This was probably the low point of the day for us, we ended up walking a bit and pausing a couple of times in the shade to stave off the sun's beating.

Riding the rim.

       Mile 29 rolled around and we met up with Carolyn for the second time.  Her zest for the journey was welcomed and helped us regained a little pep in our step after enjoying the snacks she had graciously hiked in to us (due to road closure).  We made like Santa Claus and left her presence and headed out on a steady descent of singletrack along the ridge of Lava Point.  We cruised really well through the woods and meadows, awestruck by the diversity of landscapes found in the park.  

Open spaces

"Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world"
-J. Muir

Incredible rock

This is how I imagined Zion before this adventure.  Wow.

      We met Caro again before getting on the Hop Valley Trail to begin the descent into the Kolob Canyon.  When we got to the aid station wagon we felt great and felt even better upon leaving.  Unfortunately, the first couple of miles of the section was soft, deepish sand, which really sapped a lot of energy every time a push forward was made.

      After crossing the expanse of the meadow we began our descent into the Kolob Canyon. The green carpet of grass that was the canyon floor had been rolled out before us, the immensity of the canyon was yet to be seen.  We followed the river, getting our feet wet several times when crossing, running through the sand in the footprints of cows and horses who, too, had been granted some sort of fulfillment from the river we chased.

A balancing act

Class acts

Just before descending to the bottom of Kolob Canyon

Singletrack on the canyon floor

Photo by M. Ambrose

     Running beside the river on the floor of the canyon was fantastic, one of my favorite sections of the route.  We ran really well all day, but I was especially impressed in these late miles (40 to 48) by our ability to crank out a 7:30 pace in our race against the sun.

       But, as it often does, the sun set and the burst of red returned, glowing on the canyon walls. The sun's salutation was impressive, but the full moon stole the show, appearing perfectly on cue in it's dance with the sun creating a halo that bloomed out of the summit of one of the nearby peaks.  We carried on climbing in the darkness another couple of miles out of the canyon to Lee's Pass where we were welcomed once more by the lovely Carolyn and hung up our hats for the day.

The sun's setting

Mike, Rob, and me after a good day's run

     We spent 11 hours and 35 minutes moving through the park (48 miles, ~10,000 ft of vert), it made for a long day, but the pace made the experience extremely enjoyable.  I didn't have a concrete expectation for Zion prior to this adventure, but running from the East Entrance to the West Entrance proved that it was far more than could be photographed or described.  I'll definitely do this again sometime.

      Over the course of the next couple of hours we ate a ton of salt and vinegar chips, ate burritos and tacos, said farewell to Rob and Caro, and took off in the car.  After about 2.5 hours of driving(~midnight), we were too physically and mentally fatigued to continue and napped on the side of the road.  A couple of hours later we were off again.  Mike reached Frisco just in time for work, and I made my way back up to Leadville.

      As I sit here a couple of days removed from the outing, I feel no soreness or fatigue, which is completely unknown territory for me after a run of this magnitude- I like it.

      I tip my cup to National Park Service and all it does to make the beauty and wonder of this world known and accessible to people who may not otherwise seek it's solace.  Now, I just hope that cup is filled with some Hop Notch IPA from the Uinta Brewery of SLC, Utah that I had the pleasure of enjoying on this excursion.