Running the Grand Canyon: Rim to Rim to Rim

Cold morning view from the Kaibab Lodge

I'm not sure when I first heard about the idea of the rim to rim to rim.  It might have been from Adam or Jared a couple years ago.  Regardless, I have been planning on doing it this fall and was rather disappointed when a work shuffle left me without apparent time to join Jared and Jason last week.  

After skiing Friday, I convinced first myself and then my wife to make a one day trip to the Grand Canyon on my day off, so I could attempt the fabled Rim to Rim to Rim run.  She is 31 weeks pregnant and the standard accommodations in the back of the Subaru just weren't going to do.  The GC Lodge had no vacancy and the Kaibab Lodge had a single room with a double bed.  We took it.  I arranged a shuttle for 6:45 in the morning and then we were off driving into the night.  Arriving at one AM, we set the alarm for "early" and went to bed.   

Since Jessie couldn't run with me and no other partners materialized, I went and found the shuttle driver alone.  Seeing my breath and the snow on the ground felt like a good omen.  I do better in the cold and I was hoping the temps would be mild throughout the two impending canyon crossings.  

The secret is in the white powder.

However, it wasn't without some trepidation that I started running down the choppy trail at 7:15 that morning.  Unsure as to why, I haven't had a "good" run in weeks.  But, throwing caution to the wind, I decided to roll the first five downhill miles.  The air were cool but I shed my jacket 5 minutes into the run as the sun was strong.  Arriving at the first watering hole, I took a look at the crowds and kept moving.  From there, 8-9 miles of mostly gentle downhill follow a side canyon to the Colorado River.  

The canyon was beautiful with the early morning light playing off the walls and the sounds of the creek providing a musical accompaniment to the Fanfarlo I was playing on my ipod.  I took a pull off my gel flask around an hour in and had to keep reminding myself to drink.  The running was easy and relaxing and I was enjoying the moment.  

Descending from the North Rim

Following North Kaibab Trail endlessly downward

I trotted into Phantom Ranch around 1:45, looking to refill my water for the climb up to the South Rim but found a hoard of people lined up at the spigot.  Eager not to waste time, I kept going and found another just before the river crossing.  Crossing the bridge as the watch ticked over to 2 hours, I felt strong.  Jason and Jared had given splits to the South Rim, 50K, and the finish and I thought I was ahead of their pace, which provided ample motivation.  Once across the river, out came the poles and away went the camera.  I was able to run/shuffle much of the 4800 ft climb to the South Rim but never pushed.  Walking when prudent or when held up by mules, I started to see more and more people without packs.  Then the final switchbacks.  Then the South Rim.  3:43:30 into the day.  

Striding quickly to the fountains, I must have appeared frantic to the tourists posing for pictures and eating their lunches.  I fumbled with my pack (Jason's, which I used for the ability to carry poles), mixed more EFS drink, spilled half on my shoes, choked down a gel flask, wet my head, played tourist for 1 min taking pictures, and then I was off 10 minutes later.  Looking across the expanse to the North Rim was intimidating and my legs were giving the first inklings of bad times ahead.                   

The long descent back to the river doesn't lend itself to smooth running as it resembles a broken staircase littered with equestrian droppings.  Losing elevation led to hurting legs and a more tempered pace.   At this point I began to question my nutrition strategy, which was to drink my calories.  With water available every 5ish miles, I had planned on mixing EFS, Hammer, and Cytomax products for an energy source supplemented by gels.  Lately, I haven't been able to stomach food on long efforts and this day was no different.                                                                                                                                                                                  

Ooh Aah, just below the South Rim

Dropping back to the River, the bottom of the canyon is the narrow gash in the center of the picture.  North Rim is visible in the distance. 

I crossed the Colorado River for the second time right as the watch read 5:00.  After quickly refilling my water for the third time, I set off at what I felt to be a sustainable pace for the remainder of the run.  Figuring I had 8 miles of gentle up hill before hitting the main climb back to the North Rim, I thought I could count on 9-12 min miles, after which, fast hiking and jogging the lower grades would take me home.  Mental calculations had me hoping for a total time of just over 8 hours (really slow compared to the record but relatively fast).  My pride began to swell and my taunts to friends were already forming in my mind.  

Then reality.

The temperature was too warm. I had started too fast.  My nutrition was abysmal.  I forgot electrolyte tabs.  I was experiencing whole body cramps.  Damn. 

I sat down at mile 34 (of 42) and tried to stretch.  That just led to cramps in the antagonistic muscle groups.  Salvation came in the form of other runners attempting the R2R2R, when they gave me a handful of salt tabs.  I took a few and kept walking.  Afraid to run, the strategy shifted from moving fast to finishing.  Every time I tried to even walk at a more upbeat tempo, my quads would threaten utter rebellion.  

The mental calculations commenced again.  This time to evaluate the damage.  15-25 minute miles for 8 miles?  Huh? 

The bridge over the River Colorado 

Done!

I didn't run another step over those 8 miles.  And, in spite of not being able to run, I was happy.  I almost pulled off a great run and was going to finish (which I had questioned on the drive down).  The scenery was still spectacular but leaning on my poles didn't allow me to carry my camera and I was too lazy to get it out of the pack.  When the canyon walls closed down, my watch would temporarily get confused with the intermittent satellite signal so I couldn't trust it not to lie to me.   As I approached the top I started asking the hikers how far was left.  Some guy said 3 miles.  Another lady said 2 miles from the tunnel.  The tunnel came and went.  A father and young boy thought a mile and a half.  The views dissipated as I marched into the forest.  Then I could hear cheering above.  Rounding a bend an animated gentleman said 200 meters and pointed onward.  Feeling relief, I stumbled out to the trailhead 9 hours and 12 minutes after starting and walked past a hoard of people who had just finished their own adventures.  

Then, as tends to be the case, the second part of this endurance endeavor was a long drive home, since I had to be at work early the next morning.  Luckily, Jessie provided lovely conversation for the majority of the ride home...except when she fell asleep.  Just outside the park, we drove through an old burn and passed through what may have been the most picturesque vistas of the whole trip.

Old burn on fire again

Golden hour

Stats:

Total Time 9:12:38

42+ miles

10-11,000 vertical gained

10 gels 

4 water stops

uncountable muscle cramps

13 hours driving

5 hours sleeping

Here's the data from my sketchy watch.  There vertical is oddly doubled but the map should be accurate. 

And so it begins...

I was at work this morning when I received a picture text of alpenglow on a snowy Mount Superior.  Jason and Jared were trying to push my buttons.  Off around ten, I rallied out of work and convinced JD to head back up for more "first turns" of the season.  He protested that the skiing really wasn't worth it.  Isn't it always worth it?  

Summer flowers hanging on.

JD being reckless with abundant lurking sharks.

Getting my first turns of this season.  Photo taken without permission from jasondorais.blogspot.com.

Photo taken without permission from jasondorais.blogspot.com.

I think fall will return before winter finally sets in. 

Grand Canyon R2R2R

Sometimes, I go out and have a nearly perfect day.  The weather is good, the body is good, and the head is good.  Nature seems to be good to me.  Things click.  And when I return, I want more.  I want to go replicate it, again.   But sometimes, I go out and have a really crappy day.  I find misery.  I hate that I am in nature.  And I want nothing more than to never go out again.  And when I return, a cloud hangs over me, and I want another chance.  I want to be better.  It's a vicious cycle.

October 3, 2011, 7:04 a.m.


My sleeping bag is crumpled up in the back of my Subaru.  I crawled out of it a few minutes ago.  I'm nibbling on a leftover Subway sandwich from last night.  Jason is soaking a ProBar in peanut butter.  We intended to have bagels, but we don't.  It's 38 degrees.  We strip off our jackets, slam the Subaru's doors closed, and start running off the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

Jason Dorais descending off the North Rim.

Me off the North Rim.  Photo by J. Dorais

October 3, 2011, 9:35 a.m.


We've covered 13.7 miles and descended over 5,500 feet in about 2.5 hours.  Except for two rolled ankles--one mine and the other Jason's--we're feeling relatively good, not as fresh as we'd hoped, but good.  We're more or less on pace.  We want to run Rim to Rim to Rim, 42ish miles, and 10,800 vertical in under 10 hours.  We're at Phantom Ranch, less than a mile from the Colorado River, and will be heading up the South Kaibab Trail to the South Rim, ascending 5,300 vertical feet 7.2 miles.  If we want to stay on pace, we'll need to be at the top of the South Rim in 1 hr and 50 minutes.

Jason ascending the South Kaibab Trail

Me ascending South Kaibab.  Photo by J. Dorais.

October 3, 2011, 11:25 a.m.


It took us 1 hr and 51 minutes to ascend the South Kaibab trail from Phantom Ranch.  And it wasn't easy.  Perhaps we were driven too much by theory and not reality.  I felt a surge of adrenalin in the last 1/2 mile or so and we ran hard to the top, arriving breathless.  Although water was available at the South Rim, I only splashed it on my head, and didn't put any into my hydration pack.  I thought I had enough to get me to Phantom Ranch.  I didn't want to carry extra weight.  I was mistaken.

Me walking behind the behinds of a mule train.  "Please don't kick me."  Photo by J. Dorais.

October 3, 2011, 12:23 p.m.

We just ran the 27th mile in 9 minutes 30 seconds.  The Colorado River is below us and we'll be crossing it soon.  It's hot.  I'm hot.  I'm out of water.  I haven't eaten much of anything for an hour.  I notice that I have goosebumps.  I'm hot, but I'm chilled.  I'm nauseous and I can't eat.  Uh oh.  Not to worry though, we'll be to Phantom Ranch soon.

October 3, 2011, 12:45 p.m.

I'm lying face first in a tributary of the Colorado River.  My feet are propped up on a flat rock, but everything from my ankles up, head included, is under water.  Water trickles into my ear, but I don't want to lift my head out of the cool water.  I

October 3, 2011, 1:00 p.m.

We're satisfied that we clicked off 29ish miles in under 6 hours.  We've got 13 more to go, mostly uphill.  Phantom Ranch lemonade tastes good.  My goosebumps are gone and I'm not as nauseous, but I feel like, well, I just ran 29 hard miles.  I firmly believe that my condition will turn around from here out.  It's not unlike anything I've experienced before.  I'll pull out of it.  Just need to get on top of my eating and drinking.  My legs will come around.

October 3, 2011, 2:00 p.m.

Self assessment: no power in legs and nauseous.  I need to eat to have power.  But eating makes me want to throw up.  I've tried several times, heaving without much success.  A little bit, but not much. I run a few steps, and then am relegated to walking.  I really ought to eat.  But I can't.  It's as if there is an impermeable barrier between my stomach and my legs.  They aren't working together.  So I settle with walking.  I don't like going this slow.  I look at my watch.  I'm doing a 16 minute pace when I ought to be doing a 11 minute pace.  Jason is probably bored.  We're not going to make our goals, and it will be my fault.  He tries to feed me a gel, but I reject it.  I need to speed up.  But I can't, because I have no power.  Because I can't eat.  Faster.  Eat.  Heave.  I am miserable, trapped in an odd paradox.  This sucks.  I encourage Jason to go on without me.

October 3, 2011, 2:30 p.m.

Jason is running away from me now.  I hope he goes under 10 hrs.  He's looking good.  He will.

October 3, 2011, 3:30 p.m.

There is one hope.  I have a secret weapon: Coca Cola.  I stashed a 20 oz bottle six miles off the North Rim. This should turn my legs around.  Carbonation, sugar, caffeine.  Eagerly, I un-stash my stash, open it, and drink.  Immediately I feel better.  I up the pace.  A few minutes later, I am successful where I have failed so many times on this adventure:  I bend over and vomit.  The color of the spew is alarming.  It's blackish.  But then I let myself taste it a little bit.  And it tastes like Coke.  I'm back to my painfully frustrating and slow 25 minute pace.  My secret weapon failed.  I've got nothing.

October 3, 2011, 4:45 p.m.


I'm resigned now.  That internal fire, the incessant motivation to go fast and conquer, is gone.  I just want to get back to the car and be done.  And I want to throw up.  I look around and am stunned by the view.  There is a mist above the rim; water trickles off the walls above me; thunderheads move with curious speed across the canyon.  I start reciting ancient time periods I learned in 7th grade: precambrian, paleozoic, cenozoic, cambrian, ordovician, silurian, devonian. . . .




October 3, 2011, 5:15 p.m.


As I begin to see where I am, I forget where I want to be.  I start to eat almonds, slowly, one at a time.

October 3, 2011, 5:45 p.m.

My body seems to have accepted the almonds.  Jason, who finished an hour ago, has walked down to join me.  I look at my watch and 10 hrs and 50 minutes have elapsed.  I'm not going to take more than 11 hrs.  The fire is back.  It's late, way too late actually, but it's back.  I start running.  I run into the North Rim parking lot and stop my watch: 10:57:22.

October 3, 2011, 7:00 p.m.


I just threw up a bit, but I'm holding it in my mouth.  I roll down the car window, spit, and it spatters on the car, inside and out.

October 4, 2011, 12:00 a.m.

Me:  I don't feel a need to go back there.  Do you?

Jason:  No.  I'm not going back.

Me:  Me neither.

October 4, 2011, 6:00 p.m.


Me:  I want a rematch.

Jason:  With me?  Or the Grand Canyon?

Me: The Grand Canyon.

It's a vicious cycle.

10-3-2011 Rim to Rim to Rim, The Grand Canyon

Since running the Trans Zion earlier this year we've been talking about the rim to rim to rim.  Schedules didn't work out for everyone but luckily Jared had Sunday afternoon and Monday off so we headed down for a quick trip.  We worked out splits to make the round trip in under 10 hours.  Our North to South goal was 4:20.  After starting just after 7 AM we quickly ditched our jackets as the sun was getting hot, fast.  The first section is a 5 mile down hill off the North Rim and down to the "caretaker cabin."  We were expecting to move a bit quicker on this section but the trail was pretty steep in places and the footing not always very secure.  

Jared off the N. Rim

More Jared 

From the "cabin" it's a pretty nice low angle down for 8 miles to Phantom Ranch.  We got back on schedule here but we both noticed that our legs felt fatigued.  All the down was a little harder than expected.

Heading to Phantom Ranch, main branch of the GC in the distance

From Phantom Ranch we crossed the Colorado and had a 7 mile up hill to the South Rim.  We thought we were ahead of schedule until we saw a  sign that noted 3.5 mile to go, demoralizing.  This was 3:30 into the day and were we slowing a bit.  I looked at my watch and for a second it read a 25 min mile.  If we kept that pace we'd top out at 5 hours and our hopes for a sub 10 hours trip would be over.  It was warm and we were a bit tired but we both decided to go harder than comfortable in order to have a chance.  Running past hordes of hikers we hit the rim at 4:20.50.

Up the S. Kaibab

View from close to the top

A quick water break at the top and we were back running.  Jared's GI problems for the day started after eating wasabi/soy sauce almonds on the S. Rim.  In retrospect, maybe not the best warm weather food... Back down to Phantom Ranch he was fighting dry heaves and over heating.  Passing the trains of mules was ridiculous.  We had to wait until they could pull off the trail and then slowly walk behind them hoping we didn't get kicked.  

"Scariest part of the day."

S. Kaibab

Once down to the Colorado, we lounged in the water for a few minutes before starting the 8 mile low angle up hill to the "caretaker cabin."  This is were the GI distress worsened.  The 7 miles of dry heaves down to Phantom Ranch left Jared a little behind on nutrition, not a good place to be with 13 miles of up hill to go.  We walked/shuffled the next 6 miles glad for the overcast skies and rain, the whole time hoping Jared's GI would settle and that he'd be able to put down some food and come back to life.  With 7-8 miles to go it looked like we'd have to walk it out since Jared couldn't hold down food.  He insisted I run it out and try to hit our goal.  Feeling bad for leaving my partner (not bad enough to stay) but motivated to break 10, it was a very uncomfortable/hard effort for the next 2 hours.  To make matters worse my watch died 8:10 into the day.  I had the last big climb to do without knowing how close I was to the 10 hours mark.  Knowing we started at 7:04AM I kept asking hikers for the time and going as hard as I could.  4:47PM once I hit the trailhead made the total time right around 9:45. Turns out after I left Jared he tried to drink a little Coke, 10 minutes later it came right back out.  He had a rough last few hours but topped out just under 11 hours.  

Afternoon rain on the N. Rim. Notice the bridge down low.

We left the N. Rim around 6 PM and then had a long drive home.  Jared only vomited once in the car on the drive back, he managed to keep it in his mouth and get his window down only to spit it out all over the door, gross.

Stats:

Total elevation gain: 10,710

Total milage: 41.8 miles

Total time: 9:45 (give or take a few mins)

Food: 20 gu's, 1 probar, 1 oz beef jerky, 1 Phantom Ranch lemonade

Total SLC to SLC time: 32 hours

Photo Highlights: A Year In Review

With the first dusting of snow in the high mountains last week, my thoughts are again turning toward falling snow, moving through rough terrain on skis, and some unfinished projects from last year.  Jason and Adam have posted their top pics of the year and in an effort to boost my own already high level of psych for the coming season, I perused my photo library and found these 20+ favorites.  Most have not been posted previously, and I tried not to duplicate any of the other guys, even though they already put up many of the best/favorites.   

A September evening last year after climbing Squawstruck in Provo Canyon

JD sinking jams on the classic route, Triple Overhangs.

Just one month later, Adam was heading up Suicide Chute on a dreary early November afternoon.

Early December in the Selkirk Range, BC Canada. 

Skinning through an old burn, about to enjoy 4,000 feet of Montana powder in Glacier NP. Photo by Jared

Just before Christmas 2010.  JD on rappel in the NW Couloir of the Pfeifferhorn. 

Jon Swain, the consummate powder whore, having some more for breakfast on Superior.

JD running in the new year in Zion NP.

A gang of stubborn skiers, refusing to lower ourselves to booting in the Memorial Couloirs, Mount Olympus. Photo by JD

First tracks in the Terminal Cancer Couloir, Ruby Mountains. Photo by JD

JD putting in a boot track in the TC.  

Timp in late Winter conditions.  Photo by JD

JD sneaking around the big mine,  Oquirrh Mountains

Blustery winter day on the North Ridge of the Pfeiff.  Photo by JD

Brian Harder in the Ford Couloir, Grand Teton

Trying to find my way around a melted out section of Cocietti's Ribbon in May.  Photo by AOK

Brian Harder, traversing into the Black Ice Couloir, Grand Teton.

Corn below Mount Whitney.  Photo by JD

Down climbing the Chevy Couloir in fat conditions, Grand Teton.  Photo by JD

MLK rain crust at sunset in the Oquirrhs.  

JD, dead pine, rime.  Provo Peak

Smiley Viking rapping into the unknown.  Pfeifferhorn

Sam and JD and rime.  Mount Timpanogos

Dropping in to Lone Peak Cirque.  Photo by JD

Zak Foy dropping a knee on a cold cold January morning.

Jared and JD marching onward.  Somewhere in Hogum Fork.

That's it for now.  More to come in a month or so when it starts snowing for real!

Also, the 28th to 30th of this month, the new Powderwhores movie, Breaking Trail, will be playing at Brewvies.  I hear this year it's not all smelly tele.  Can't wait!

Lone Peak--Several Times, According to my GPS

My GPS tracks wherever I go.  And it provides an accurate account of what I've done.  Which is why it must be true that I climbed nearly every route (established and heretofore not established) on Lone Peak's summits, yes both of them, in about 4 hours.  Here are my data points to prove it:

All the points I hit on Lone Peak in the span of about 4 hours.

And in case you want to verify:

I'm trading up for a Snoopy watch.