Running across Northern Arizona
Back in November of 2023, I found myself in an email exchange with fellow Barkley Marathons alum and good friend, Ed Furtaw. In one of his emails replies he noted:
"While reading your book chapter about your hike/run from Vermont's highest to lowest point John, I had a thought about something I learned about many years ago, when Gail and I were still working and living in Las Vegas. We had an ultrarunner friend named Mike Ehlerman. He set an FKT record in 1992 for running the "Hole To Hump" in Arizona: from the bottom of the Grand Canyon to the top of Humphreys Peak in the San Francisco Peaks near Flagstaff. Have you ever heard of that trek? It's virtually in your backyard!"
Needless to say, I had not heard of this route, nor had I even considered anything like it since living in Arizona. In my mind, the lowest point in the state was all the way down by Yuma, so to do a traditional run between geographic superlatives would be ridiculously far. And while the Grand Canyon is quite low in elevation compared to the surrounding Colorado Plateau, it is still over 2000 feet at the river. Despite this though, the idea of connecting the bottom of the Grand Canyon with the top of the highest peak in Arizona did pique my curiosity to some extent. I thought perhaps one day I'd investigate it further...but not long after this email exchange, the idea had become filed away within the deep recesses of my mind.
Over a year later, and several Grand Canyon Rim-2-Rim-2-Rim hikes later, the idea of doing some sort of adventure run from the bottom of the Canyon back "home" crept back in again. I found the route information over on the FKT pro-boards for the "Hole-to-Hump" and learned that while there was an official GPX route that could be downloaded and ostensibly followed, that the route itself was noted as "open." What this means is that in order to complete the "Hole-to-Hump," one simply needs to start at the Colorado River, and end on the summit of Humphreys Peak; any route is acceptable. In other words, it really is a case of "choose your own adventure." Knowing this, the idea of one day attempting a Hole-to-Hump became much more appealing. Having been down the Canyon over a dozen times by this point, I had become quite fond of the idea of hiking up and out from the Colorado River...and then simply continuing all the way "home."
The problem with attempting this route...is finding the right time to attempt it. Completing this journey means honing in on a very narrow window of time. An attempt needs to be made either late enough in spring so that the snow has sufficiently melted on Humphreys (but the Canyon is still not too hot), OR late enough in fall when it is sufficiently cool in the Canyon, but new snows haven't fallen on the mountain yet. This effectively means it can realistically either be done sometime in May or June, or in September or October. Late-September seemed optimal, but it is also right in the middle of the academic fall session. This means for me, it would likely have to be in May, immediately following spring semester. I just had to hope that any attempt would be late enough that the high peaks would be mostly snow-free.
As this spring 2025 semester was coming to a close and thoughts of adventures and various treks to nowhere began creeping in, I started thinking in earnest about a Hole-to-Hump attempt. I had just witnessed a friend of mine (we'll call her "D") complete the 250-mile Cocodona ultra course here in town and it gave me the last bit of motivation and inspiration I needed. After speaking with a different friend of mine (we'll call her "E") about possibly helping me out on an attempt, I tentatively set a date for Friday, May 30th.
My plan would be simple. I would ask E to meet me at the Snowbowl parking lot around noon (at the base of the final climb and where I would ultimately end my hike). From there, we would take her car up to the Grand Canyon, laying out a handful of resupply caches along my planned running route. This way, I would have strategic locations to refill my water bottles, and my nutrition. These caches would be no farther than about 20 miles apart, ensuring I'd be able to carry enough between them to stay hydrated and fed. Once at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon (around 4 p.m.), E would drop me off at the trailhead for the New Hance Trail, where I would first make the 6.5-mile approach hike down to the Colorado River. Once at the river (probably around 6:30 p.m.), I would start my watch and begin my climb back up out of the Canyon where E would still be waiting for me several hours later for my first resupply. From there, I'd begin the long run back towards Flagstaff during the night hours, resupplying at my supply caches. The entire run from the river to the base of Humphreys Peak would cover about 65 miles across the wide-open high desert. Given the time of year, the night-time temperatures would make this section quite pleasant for running. Then the following day, I'd make it back to my car at the base of the mountain where I'd carry out my last resupply before heading up the mountain for the final summit. At the top (hopefully before nightfall), I'd finally stop my watch after about 70 total miles to complete the route. Of course I'd still have to turn around and hike the five miles back down to my car in order to actually finish the adventure. In total, the route would cover over 82 miles including the initial approach hike and the final descent.
The proposed route with my resupply waypoints
In the weeks leading up to my proposed date, I downloaded all of the necessary GPX tracks and read up on whatever run reports I could find for the route. In my reading I noted several different variations for the route, and also learned that the New Hance Trail would be quite a difficult trail to navigate. Despite this, I was genuinely excited to tackle this challenge, and very quickly decided that I would be taking on this this route purely as a journey run and adventure...meaning I'd be sucking the marrow out of it, and not worrying about my pace. I knew I would have to take long breaks at my supply caches and that the heat would likely slow me down anyway. So...I had a plan, and a date, all that was left was to execute. One final note is that I came to the conclusion that I was not particularly fond of the name "Hole-to-Hump," so I decided to rebrand my run as "Canyon-to-Crest." Not only do I think it sounds better, but I think it aligns better with my mentality of a this being an adventure, not an FKT attempt.
The Pre-Run Logistics
Everything leading up to my run was moving along well, and I got all the necessary supplies together for my attempt. I confirmed the support plan with E and she agreed to take me to the start, and to dropping off my caches along the way. My other friend D (the one who completed Cocodona) also agreed to possibly meet me out on the course to either run with me, or to simply bring me additional food and drinks. Of course I was grateful for any support. Everything was lining up great until the weather forecast updated a few days before my start date. The temps were going to be HOT. Forecasted temperatures for the bottom of the Canyon were projected to reach 105 degrees on the Friday I had planned to start, so my only option was to delay my start until later in the day, in the hopes that by the time I made my way down to the bottom of the Canyon, that I'd have cooler temps and some shade. I decided to keep to the plan, but also to not rush up to the Canyon. I reasoned that starting around 4 p.m. should still be relatively ok given that it would likely be after 6 p.m. by the time I'd reach the river. Of course this would mean it would get dark before I made it back to the South Rim, so I would need to carry my headlamp. I also wasn't sure about water, so just opted to carry a heavy water load down into the Canyon so I'd have enough to make it down and back up (spoiler: it still wasn't enough).
On Friday at around 12:30 p.m., E and I met at the Snowbowl parking area as planned and made it to the South Rim by about 3:30 p.m. (dropping of my caches along the way). We sat at the Buggeln day-use area for about 30 minutes so I could settle my nerves and pre-hydrate as much as possible. Just before 4 p.m., we drove the ~1.5 miles down the highway to the New Hance Trailhead area and I began my adventure at exactly 4:03 p.m. E snapped a quick "start" photo of me just before descending into the woods and down the steep trail.
Dropping my first resupply cache behind a Juniper
Resupply bag (in tree) and water jug
The Canyon Descent
In less than a quarter-mile from the trailhead, the New Hance Trail began a series of incredibly steep and rocky switchbacks that resulted in a loss of over 1500 feet in about a mile. This section was quite treacherous and I had to be exceedingly careful not to misstep. This is the kind of trail where one can very easily roll an ankle or make a bad foot placement resulting in some serious problems. Consequently, this section was a bit slow going. While the total elevation was still somewhat high, (over 5500 feet) I didn't notice the heat too much in this stretch. Additionally, over the following mile I had noticeable shade due to the nearby red wall canyon face. However, somewhere around mile 3 of the descent, two noticeable things changed. First, I lost all of my shade, and the direct sun was now delivering temperatures well into the 90s. It was hot and I immediately took note of how much water I was already drinking. On top of this, the trail between miles 3 and 5, was quite overgrown and hard to follow in places. On several occasions I ended up following a dead-end and had to back track. Thankfully, the GPX track I had on my phone was incredibly accurate, so I just learned that I needed to check it often to stay on course. Even still though, I found it difficult and frustrating to get through this stretch. There was also notable undulation in this section, meaning I somehow managed to climb over 400 feet UP even though I was descending DOWN into the Canyon.
Just shy of mile 5, the trail finally dumped me out into a wide and gravel-filled wash. From there, the trail simply follows the wash, and I chose to walk along the least rocky sections. The gradient was also much more gentle over the last 1.5 miles. Right around mile 6, I could hear the river and I knew I was close. I rounded one last bend in the wash and could see the Hance Rapids just up ahead; I had made it. As I approached the River, I was quite surprised to be greeted by a random person camping nearby. It startled me somewhat, but within moments he was headed back to his campsite and I never saw him again. I snapped a couple of short videos and promptly reset my GPS watch to start my official "Canyon to Crest" adventure. Start time: 6:30 p.m.
At the Colorado River just before starting my "official" adventure
Video clip of my "official" start
Segment 1: The Colorado River to Buggeln Day Use Area (~7.6 miles)
Just past 6:30 p.m., I left the river feeling energized; my Canyon to Crest had begun. My mission was to climb as consistently as I could back to the Rim and try not to push too hard or get discouraged. E had agreed to meet me for resupply at the Buggeln Day Use area about 1.5 miles down the paved road from the trailhead. Ideally, a trailhead visit would have been better, but there is no practical parking there. Plus, I figured once on top, I could easily stroll down a relatively flat paved road for a mile and a half for support. This climb would be similar amount of gain to climbing the South Kaibab Trail, but on much more difficult trail. I had made very careful mental notes of the tricky spots coming down, and based on the my start time, I reasoned that I would get through most of those spots before dark. I guessed that I'd be switching on my headlamp somewhere about half-way up the climb.
For the first 1.5 miles back up the gentle wash, I was making great time power-hiking over 3 mph as I climbed the first ~800 feet of gain. Once I peeled away from the wash and began the much steeper climb through the trickier section, I did slow down considerably. I made sure to keep my pace easy enough that I wasn't making any navigation errors or overtapping my water supply. I had considered filling up at the Colorado River and using my emergency treatment tablets, but I had read that there are somewhat high levels of heavy metals in the river that Aquamira tablets wouldn't effectively treat. I therefore chose to just ration what water I had remaining until I reached the top. Through the tricky section I thankfully did not make any navigation errors, but the I was exposed to the fading sun and the temperatures were still well over 90. I was quickly going through my water supplies and electrolytes and by the time I reached mile 4, I realized I only had about 500 ml of fluids left to cover the last 2 miles and 2000 feet of gain. It was going to be a rough final climb. It was also around this point that I started noticing my leg muscles cramping and spasming a bit. This almost always happens when I haven't kept my salts and fluids in balance. This all meant I had to take several short breaks on the climb to massage out minor cramps (costing me about 20 extra minutes on the climb)
Somewhere just before the 4-mile mark, as I was coming out of the tricky section and was moving on to the final steep portion of the hike, I had to switch on my headlamp. By this point it was close to 9:00 p.m. and I was getting anxious to make it back up top. Given my leg cramping, I was worried I wouldn't be able to run any of the long road sections I would have once I left the South Rim. I definitely didn't push too hard, so I was fairly convinced that I simply screwed up with respect to my water needs for such a hot day. In retrospect, I should have carried an extra bottle of Gatorade down from the top and stashed it along the trail for use on my climb back up.
It was also somewhere in the stretch that I stumbled across some rather unsettling wildlife. As I was stepping up and over many large rocks, my trekking pole came down through a large spider web that was draped between two large rocks. I looked down and saw a large black spider scampering along the silken tapestry, slightly annoyed that I had disturbed her perfect little web. As the spider climbed around and under her web, her abdomen came into view and I saw the very distinctive red hourglass. This was my first ever black widow sighting. I remember thinking...this would be the absolute worst place to get bit by such a terribly venomous spider--halfway down the Canyon, with dwindling water supplies. After this encounter, my mental and visual vigilance amped up greatly and I became paranoid that I might accidentally step on (or near) something decidedly sinister. The entire encounter also made me incredibly nervous to stop for any breaks and sit on rocks to rest for fear of having a deadly spider crawl up on me. About ten minutes later down the trail, I ran into another deadly Grand Canyon native, an Arizona desert hairy scorpion (Hadrurus Arizonensis) standing right in the middle of the trail. Thankfully, these guys are quite docile and move fairly slowly. I simply stepped over him and continued on...but it still managed to add to my anxiety.
I began the series of tight switchbacks up to the rim and my paced continued to slow. I ran out of all of my water reserves about a half-mile from the top just as the temperatures were finally beginning to cool. Somewhere in this section I stumbled across my second black widow spider and all I could think about was how I just wanted to get the hell out of the damn Canyon. My leg cramping was still flaring up on occasion, but it wasn't completely debilitating. Right at the 4-hour mark, I rounded one final switchback and came upon a park placard and knew that the primary climb was over and I had made it to the rim. Once over the top, I lightly jogged the short trail segment back out to the trailhead, relieved to be done with the monster climb and the venomous creatures. I knew I still had over a mile before I'd get more fluids at the Buggelin picnic area so I eased back into a relaxed groove. As I neared the trailhead, I heard the distinct beeping of someone unlocking their car and saw the quick flicker of tail lights. E had been watching my tracking feed and chose to meet me at the trailhead just in case I needed fluids. I was so incredibly happy to see her and immediately dove into my prepared cooler for full bottle of Gatorade. I drank the entire bottle in one go and immediately began to feel better. We decided that rather than taking care of all my needs right there at the trailhead, that I would just jog down the 1.5 miles to the Buggeln stop so that we could get off the shoulder of the road and I could get in a proper rest in a chair (and swap out my gear). So, I took off slowly jogging down the paved East Entrance Rd (a wildly different surface than what I had just been on for the past 6 hours), and she drove down to Buggeln to set up my gear and "aid station" for my arrival.
Segment 2: Buggeln Day Use Area to Bucklar Tank (~21 miles)
Now that I was up on in the high country, the majority of my route would be relatively flat until I neared the high peaks. This meant I should be able to cover many miles at an easy jogging pace without too much physical effort. I had planned to try jogging as much as I could through the night at an easy 12-13-minute/mile pace, but I hadn't really appreciated just how much the New Hance Trail would absolutely kick my ass though. I was going to need a few miles to recover and re-center myself. I walked a nice easy stroll down the road to Buggeln, and once there I spent a good 25 minutes just relaxing and resupplying. I swapped out my bigger pack and water bladder, for my smaller running vest and several bottles. I knew that I wouldn't need as much water through the night on flat forest roads. My first stretch would cover about 14 miles up to a spot known as Bucklar Tank (about 21 miles into the run) and so I opted to carry two full bottles of electrolyte mix, and one full bottle of water. This turned out to be just right. E had agreed to drive up to Bucklar tank, and wait for me to arrive, meaning I didn't have to drop a cache there beforehand, and that I would have access to all of my supplies in her car. Of course it would mean she'd have to wait for several hours for me to arrive though.
Segment 2: Buggeln to Bucklar
Looking back now on my entire adventure, I think I can confidently say that the ~14-mile stretch between Buggeln and Bucklar was my favorite. The entire segment was still up in the ponderosa pines and the forest roads I ran along were simply perfect. I also really enjoy running through the wee hours of the morning, so the timing just worked out for this segment. When I left Buggeln, I had about a mile of the paved road still to complete, but once I turned south and into the forest, the run was simply spectacular. By this point my legs had loosened up sufficiently and I was able to run for hours. I plodded along ticking off mile after mile while I also bopping along to some good tunes on my little iPod shuffle. For the next three hours, I blissfully made my way along the empty and quiet roads with an enormous grin on my face. The cool evening experience was so starkly different from the hot and grueling climb I had just completed coming up the Canyon. Other than a few camper vans at the northern end of this segment, I saw no other signs of life for the entire stretch. It was pure magic. It is worth noting that it was also new moon as well, so it was incredibly dark and the stars were quite vibrant.
I rolled into the Bucklar Tank area right at 2:30 a.m., and E was already set up for my arrival. I sat for a bit enjoying a nice break and refueling before heading out on what would be my longest segment of the journey. From Bucklar onward, I'd be entirely on my own and relying on my supply caches. I made sure I had everything I needed before leaving, said my goodbyes, and then set out with four full bottles and over 2000 calories of food to get me through the next ~22 miles.
Segment 3: Bucklar Tank to FR 417 (~43 miles)
The next segment of my journey run would have me traverse part of the Babbitt Ranch...one of the largest private ranches in the entire US. Most of this land, while private, is open to public recreation. Before this run I had known that in order to use motorized vehicles you needed to get pre-approval from the Ranch (a simple form), but I had assumed foot travel was ok as long as all cattle gates are closed. It turns out that there are new policies in place and that even those recreating on foot are supposed to submit permission forms before crossing ranch land. Of course I left no trace during my short time crossing the ranch, and thankfully didn't run into any trouble. But, were I to do this run again, I would definitely get my paperwork submitted ahead of time. The two relevant links are:
Another really interesting thing about the Babbitt Ranch in this segment, is that it is now home to a massive (323 MW) wind energy project known as the Forged Ethic Wind Energy Project. Along my route, I would be passing right under the massive wind turbines sometime just after sunrise. I would note that as encouraging as it is to see such large renewable energy solutions being implemented in my "back yard" here in Northern Arizona, the story is not entirely rosy. It turns out that most of the power being generated from this facility is going to power a new Google data center located down near Phoenix, and not to the local or regional communities here in Northern Arizona. It is all a bit frustrating honestly. Even with that said though, It is still better than building out a new natural gas or coal facility.
Segment 3: Bucklar to FR 417
Once I left Bucklar, I still had several miles of ponderosa pine trees and dark skies. I rolled along for over an hour before I finally noticed that the pines were giving way to shrubby junipers. I could sense I was descending slightly into the more exposed high desert areas north of Flagstaff. This stretch was likely to get quite hot once the sun came up, so I tried to keep my pace up. At around 4:00 a.m. I could already see faint hints of light on the eastern horizon just as I was beginning to also notice the faint and somewhat ominous outlines of the massive wind turbines.
I came up on the boundary to Babbitt Ranch lands and had to go through a closed gate. I made sure to close it behind me, but that is when I noticed the signage indicating that I was supposed to have a pre-approved pass even to cross on foot. Given the very early hour, and that it was a saturday morning, I reasoned that it was very unlikely anyone would be out servicing the wind turbines or checking up on hikers. In total, I calculated that I would be through the ranch lands in about three hours as long as I kept jogging....so that's just what I did. I put my head down, cranked up my music, and just kept ticking off the miles. Some of the road stretches along this segment were several miles long in a straight line, meaning I could see precisely where I would be as much as an hour later. This had the somewhat demoralizing effect of making it seem like I wasn't making any progress on the roads. I would run for 15 minutes and look up and it would appear that I hadn't moved. I tried my best to not let this negativity get to me and instead trusted my gps track...but it was hard. I think it was along this stretch after the sun came up that I hit my mental low point of the run (somewhere right around the half-way point of 35 miles).
Just as I suspected, once the sun came up in the cloudless sky, the temperatures began to rise quickly, and I was still quite far from the next ponderosa pine forest (meaning I'd get very little shade). Some where about 15 miles into this segment I took a 10-minute break under a larger juniper tree just north of Dog Knob and deep within the sprawling wind farm. As I sat there snacking, I was accompanied by the gentle whirring of the large turbine blades spinning overhead.
After my break I pushed on, now getting quite low on my water reserves, but nearing my 43-mile resupply cache. I was eager to check off this incredibly long segment and begin making my way back up out of the high desert and into the high country. I made it to the southern boundary of the Babbitt Ranch land and happily exited the final gate, grateful that I didn't run into anyone during my traverse. I still hadn't seen a single person on the run except for the one guy camping at the Colorado River. Just as I was thinking about how I hadn't seen a soul over the 40+ miles I had covered, I looked up and saw a person in the distance walking down the road. I was frankly surprised that there was anyone else out on these remote roads, especially given that they didn't appear to have any pack or hiking supplies. I squinted my aging eyes and realized that this person, was in fact D (the Cocodona finisher). She had driven out to meet me by my supply cache and to bring me extra food goodies--and coffee! I was thrilled to see her and once I caught up to her, we ran the final mile up to my supply cache together. Once there, I gathered my supplies, sat down along the edge of the road and took my sweet time gobbling up all sorts of high-calorie goodies. We chatted for a quite a bit and I thanked her for coming all the way up to this remote spot just to support me. One excellent bonus of this surprise visit was that she was able to snap a few extra photos of me as well.
As I sat there taking in a well-deserved break and talking to D, I realized just how close the mountain was now getting. I had been running with my head down for so long, I hadn't yet noticed that I was now close enough to see the snow drifts still present on Humphreys Peak. My final destination was now close enough that it felt real and tangible...and not just abstract.
After a relaxing break, I did take note of the rising temperatures, and decided I needed to move on to try to get back into the cover of the ponderosa pines as soon as possible. When D departed, she agreed to also meet me at my next supply cache near the base of the high peaks (about 16 miles further down the route). This would mean I would effectively have company for every resupply except for the final stop at my car.
My final destination now in view - Humphreys Peak
Approaching my supply cache (wind turbines in the background)
Enjoying my resupply and the good company
So many yummy goodies to snack on!
I was looking forward to the next segment for a couple of reasons. First, I would be leaving the more-exposed high desert and re-entering the high country. This would mean more forest cover and cooler temps. Additionally, there would be a 6-mile stretch along this segment that would be out on the paved Fort Valley Highway (Route 180). Normally, I wouldn't exactly be thrilled to be running down a narrow shoulder on a paved highway, but I was honestly looking forward to something different. I know I can move fairly quickly on pavement, so was mostly just eager to move a bit quicker along that stretch and perhaps make up some time. Plus, given that the 6 miles of pavement were right in the middle of the 16-mile segment, it would help break up the long 16 miles into more digestible sub-segments.
Segment 4: FR417 to Hochderffer
I said my "see you laters" to D and took off with purpose. I was now fueled quite well, and properly hydrated and ready to tackle the last long segment of my run. I ran about a mile down route 417 before turning off onto the much more primitive Forest Service Road 9222A-- which was probably the most primitive road of my entire run. It was a proper dual track and quite overgrown and rocky in places. It looked like it didn't get much use at all (probably due in large part to the recent fires in the area).
Just as the heat was beginning to get uncomfortable along this road, I made it back to the cover of ponderosa pine trees. I made a turn onto a different forest road (517B) and before long I could see the cars whizzing by on the highway up in the distance. I was going to be contending with quite a bit of traffic. When I reached the pavement I opted to take a short break first and fuel up for the 6-mile road stretch. My hope was that I could run every step and try to cover those miles in just a smidge over an hour. As I sat under a shady tree assessing my situation though, I noticed that I had somehow gone through the majority of my water. I don't know how this happened, but apparently the heat from the previous few miles had me overtapping my fluids. Nothing I could do about it at the moment, so I clipped up my race vest, cranked up my vigilance, and stepped out onto the narrow shoulder.
For the first few miles I jogged along a steady pace, but soon noticed I was slowing. I needed water. What happened next was rather fortuitous timing. As I was contemplating my situation, I came up on an Arizona Department of Transportation vehicle pulled over with its lights flashing. I asked the driver what was going on and he informed me that a large bull had escaped the nearby ranch and was straying out onto the highway. They were trying to "persuade" it to go back to the ranch. He then paused, looked me up and down and asked, "Hey do you need some water?"
"That would be amazing!"
He tossed me a full bottle of water and I drank the entire thing in one go. I hadn't realized just how dehydrated I had become, so the timing couldn't have been more perfect. I thanked him multiple times and quickly moved on. With some new pep in my step I trotted down the highway until the base of a fairly steep highway climb. Along this climb I reverted back to a walking pace and captured a short video.
Video from my roadwalk
Just as we neared my resupply cache I felt the first rain drops. The one piece of good news was that at least the direct sunlight was now obscured...meaning that it was much cooler, and the running more comfortable. I spent a solid ten minutes resupplying at my cache, thanked D, and then set out for the short 6-mile segment back to my car parked at the base of the final climb (in the Snowbowl ski area parking lot). I had my final "cache" and extra supplies in the back of my car for one final fill-up before tackling the big mountain.
Running in to Hochderffer
The looming clouds over Humphreys Peak
Segment 5: Hochderffer Hills to Snowbowl Parking Lot (~65 miles)
The section from the Hochderffer Hills to my car in the Snowbowl parking lot would only be a short 6 miles. On top of the short distance, the segment would also be on a section of road that I've run many times as part of the Stagecoach 55k ultramarathon course. This would be a very familiar stretch...although it would turn out that one small segment at the end would present an interesting dilemma.
Segment 5: Hochderffer Hills to Snowbowl
Leaving my resupply at Hochderffer, I made quick work of the 3 miles up to the diminutive Fern Mountain. At this small peak, the road curves around to the east and begins the climb up towards the Snowbowl. All was going well, and I was making good time until I reached my planned turn onto Pine Mountain Rd. Every other GPX track I had downloaded from previous runners who had done the Hole-to-Hump route used this road, but upon my arrival, I was greeted by a large sign that read "Private Drive - No Public Access". Looking at my map I contemplated backtracking about a half-mile to climb up the nearby Domingo Tank Trail instead. It would of course add some extra distance but would be along public land. I stood there for a good two or three minutes debating what to do, and in my somewhat sleep-deprived state I opted to simply risk it, and walk up the private road. I reasoned that I was staying on the road and not actually entering anyone's property so I should be ok, but looking back now, it was definitely the wrong call--even if there was a lot of precedent for taking this road. For anyone reading this and thinking of following in my footsteps, please don't do what I (and others) did. Just use the Domingo Trail instead. It will take you directly up to the Arizona Trail and then it's a short hop over to where the Pine Mountain Rd would have brought you up. In the end the time difference would be negligible.
Once at the top of the private Pine Mountain Road I quickly scampered into the woods and took a bee-line bushwhack path up towards the Snowbowl parking area. I arrived at my car around 3:15 p.m., which was a bit later than I had hoped, but still early enough where I would be able to reach the summit in daylight, and hopefully make it back down below treeline before needing my headlamp. The ominous rain clouds had lightened a bit over the previous six miles, so I made the command decision to go for it and complete my Canyon to Crest. I resupplied as best I could, topped off my waters, grabbed a new headlamp battery, and stuffed by lightweight puffy jacket under the outer bungee straps of my running vest. Right at 3:30 p.m. I left the parking lot and started my way up the Humphreys Trail.
Segment 6: Snowbowl Parking Lot to Humphreys Peak (~70 miles)
The final climb up to the summit of Humphreys Peak is one I have done many times since moving to Flagstaff...so I wasn't nervous about the route (I was just nervous about the looming clouds and the fact that it was getting very late in the day). I was quite literally the last person going up the mountain and I probably passed two dozen people coming down. One thing I did notice in my research of other runners' GPX tracks was that once at Snowbowl, it was common to simply straight hike up the ski slopes to avoid the long switchbacks of the Humphreys Trail. If you go this route, it is obviously steeper, but is way more direct and allows you to pop onto the trail near the upper saddle (avoiding the switchbacks). I chose not to do this mostly because the ski slopes were still covered in snow, and I had heard (perhaps incorrectly) that the ski slopes are technically off limits to hiking. Mostly though, I just wanted to go the route I was familiar with given the late hour. I knew the Humphreys trail quite well, and despite its long and rocky trail tread, and therefore its necessarily slower pace, I didn't want any surprises on my last 5 miles. So, I stuck with the classic approach and started up the very protracted switchbacks towards the upper saddle.
Somewhere around the third switchback, I started encountering my first snow and ice patches along the trail. They weren't too bad at first, but by the time I reached the upper switchbacks, I was walking along extended sections of slippery ice. I didn't bring any microspikes or other traction, so just had to take things slowly and rely on my trekking poles to keep me stable.
After some slow going, I finally topped out on the upper saddle right at 5:30 p.m. (or about 23 hours after leaving the Colorado River). The ridge line traverse over to Humphreys Peak from the saddle, while not exceedingly technical, is slow going. Additionally, it can be a bit frustrating as there are three distinct false summits that you crest before actually reaching the proper summit. It doesn't matter how many times I hike Humphreys, I also think I reach the true summit before I do and this climb was no different. After the second false summit I was all but certain the third summit was the final peak...only to be reminded that there is in fact one more climb up to the true high point.
It was somewhere around false summit #2 that I heard a distinct thunder rumble and knew that I had to move. I wasn't going to turn around this close, but I did not want to be on the exposed ridge any longer than I needed to be. At exactly 6:30 p.m., 24 hours after leaving the Colorado River, I crested the final climb and was greeted by the familiar wooden sign indicating Humphreys Peak. I was also greeted, rather surprisingly, by a couple that had also just reached the summit about 15 minutes earlier. I sat down, took my requisite finish photo, stopped my watch, and then chatted a bit with the other hikers. They asked me,
"So what time did you start up the trail?"
"Funny story actually..I started 24 hours ago from the Colorado River!"
"Whaaatttt!?"
After just a few moments of sitting at the summit basking in my successful adventure, I began to shiver uncontrollably. I donned my puffy layer and bid adieu to my fellow summiteers. I needed to get moving again to warm up and I wanted to be back down below tree-line before dark and before any possible thunderstorms. I was in such a hurry in those moments, that I didn't even capture a finish video on the summit. This was probably a good thing though as my phone battery was now down to under 10%.
Segment 6: Snowbowl to Humphreys Peak
Finish Photo - Final Time: 24:01
The hike down the mountain was slow. My feet were hurting, and I was finally starting to really feel the effects of sleep deprivation. On the ridge line portion up top, I kept tripping over rocks and over my own feet. I slowed way down and carefully navigated the tricky stuff back to the saddle. I did not want to incur a major injury along my "bonus" miles. Once back in the trees I felt much better. I picked up my pace a bit and weaved my way back and forth along the upper switchbacks...watching the ice patches get smaller and smaller as I descended.
About half-way down the descent I did finally have to put my headlamp on for the last 2+ miles. The final three switchbacks of the trail are quite long and notably rocky and I was getting somewhat frustrated by this point. I kept trying to soak in the final two miles and tell myself to savor them as they would be special upon later reflection. I did my best to spend that final 45 minutes thinking back to some of my favorite segments along my journey. I thought back to the spectacular miles from Buggeln to Bucklar in the early morning hours and the 5 mile trek along the massive wind turbines. I thought of my fun rest stops chatting with friends and my familiar miles along the Stagecoach course. I thought of the difficult stretches when it was hot or when the road seemingly went on forever. I thought of the insane New Hance Trail that I had hiked in nearly 100 degree temperatures while also dodging black widow spiders and Arizona scorpions. Eventually a smile returned to my face and I was overcome by a feeling of contentment and accomplishment. I as happy that I had set out to complete this goofy little trek to nowhere, and come away with a trove of new memories.
Along the final half-mile of the descent as I was just coming out of the woods, I looked back up at the mountain and noticed that the night sky had cleared. I squinted and it almost looked like I could see a faint hint of the northern lights over the mountain. Silly I thought, Arizona is way too far south for the Aurora. I found out the following day that the northern lights had in fact reached as far south as northern Arizona...so it was possible that is what I caught a faint glimpse during the final few hundred meters of my hike. What a wild way to end my adventure.
I got back to the car a few minutes later, sent out a final tracking ping from my InReach satellite tracker and stopped my watch for a final time. The final clock time as I hopped into my car was about 9:15 p.m....still early enough to grab a bite to eat on the way back home I thought. On the 30-minute drive back home though, I could tell that I was terribly sleep-deprived and not entirely safe to drive. I decided to forgo any food stops and simply head straight home for my own safety. I needed to sleep much more than I need to eat.
One interesting thing that I thought about on my drive home was how during nearly all of 70+ miles of my run, I was entirely alone...yet somehow at both my start (Colorado River) and my finish (Humphreys Peak), I found myself in the company of others.
