To: "Nolans 14" From: "Steve Bremner" Date: Mon, 10 Sep 2001 22:37:32 -0600 Subject: [nolans14] Nolan's 14 report and wedding day If you love the mountains as do Laila and I and the stars and planets have aligned for a propitious moment for marriage, what better place to have the ceremony than on top of a mountain? As it happened I would be running a race across a mountain range in Colorado, so we set the wheels in motion to conduct the ceremony on top of the final mountain I could successfully complete. Jim Nolan, namesake of Nolan’s’ 14, an adventure race across fourteen 14,000 foot peaks in Colorado’s majestic Sawatch Range, and a minister in the Universal Life Church of Modesto California, would preside over the mountain top ceremony to be held on the final day of the race. Nolan’s, now in its third year, is the most physically and mentally challenging 100-mile mountain race in the world. With its 44,000 feet of elevation gain, rugged route finding often with no trail, and 60-hour time limit, to date there have been only four finishers: Mike Tilden, Blake Wood, John Robinson, and Jim Nelson, all of them this year. Collectively they enjoyed less than an hour of sleep in order to finish the course within 60 hours. For the race start at dawn (0600) on August 16th, 2001 I lined up with eleven other runners and Laila. Laila had planned on going up the first mountain of the race, Mt Massive, before supporting me for the rest of the race, but Sam the Wolfdog spoiled those plans when he escaped for an hour of “freelancing”. Though it had rained nearly all day the day before and into the night, the day broke clear and promising. With great good fortune the weather would hold fair for the next 60 hours, excepting only a brief one-hour squall mid-way into the race. The first objective was to break free of the maze of the Leadville Fish Hatchery and find the three-mile diamond-marked trail leading to the Colorado Trail. Last year I had climbed Massive with the runners before later manning a backcountry aide station at North Cottonwood Creek (after Mt Columbia). At that time I had fallen in with Blake Wood on the diamond trail. This year I again found myself alongside him as we looked for the way out from the fish hatchery. Suddenly, John Robinson broke away from the trail we were on and head west. I asked Blake if that was the way. “I don’t know. I followed you last year.” I responded, “I followed you!” Without further preamble we followed in John’s wake, soon stumbling on the correct trail. Last year when I returned after climbing Massive I wandered around the maze of lakes that constitute the fish hatchery for half an hour before finding my vehicle. Dennis Herr began running up the trail and several of us followed. We all felt good in the early stages and it was hard to hold back. Running on Pikes Peak nearly all year, I am quite comfortable running up a mountain, so I continued running after the others, perhaps wisely, paced themselves a little more. Crossing the Colorado Trail, the Highline Trail ascends in two miles to a pair of alpine lakes near timberline. Here I left the trail, climbing through small timber to gain the west ridge. Once in the open grassy terrain above timberline I spotted other runners—this direct route turned out to be the route of choice. As we neared the summit block, Dennis Herr powered by me. He headed for the wrong highpoint however and gaining a little advantage I arrived first on top of Massive at 0815; 4800 feet of elevation gain over six or seven miles. I waved from the top to let the others know where it was and started down, moving south to the saddle between Massive proper and South Massive. John Robinson and Dennis Herr reached the top three minutes after me, followed by Mike Tilden, Jim Nelson, and Blake Wood at 0822. Following the cairn-marked route west off the saddle I was at first unaware that the others had dropped west directly off the summit down a fast scree chute. When I reached the North Halfmoon Creek Trail I heard Blake on the radio saying after directly dropping off the summit they had not yet reached the trail. My thought at the time was that I had chosen the fastest route down. I ran down the trail towards the road, down which I would go a short ways to the aide station at the South Halfmoon Creek Trailhead leading to the next peak Mt Elbert. Unbeknownst to me, John Robinson after having gone ahead by going down Massive on the direct route off the summit had left the aide station three minutes before. Thinking I was in first place I paused at the aide station just long enough to fill my hydro-pack with water and eat a small candy bar. The South Halfmoon Creek Trail is a four-wheel drive road that skirts the west side of Elbert. Two or three miles up the trail I came on a fallen down cairn I suspected marked the spot to leave the trail and begin the steep ascent (from that point it is 3,000 feet in 1.3 miles) of Elbert’s NW ridge. Not having done the route I used the opportunity to answer nature’s call while waiting for the others to catch up. In the meantime Dennis Herr apparently went by me and got off course. When Jim Nelson and Mike Tilden showed up in about five minutes we decided it must be the point we were supposed to break off trail for the NW ridge. We set off together. Three or four hundred feet above us we spotted John Robinson ascending the spine to the south of the couloir. We aimed for him. I puzzled over how John had got so far ahead, still thinking that I had been in the lead. When we saw Blake ascending on the north spine 200 feet lower than us on the other side of the couloir we asked him on the radio why he wasn’t doing the “normal” south ridge. “I did that last year. This year I decided to try this side for variety.” Interesting… When I ran out of water an hour below the summit I knew it was bad news. Dehydration early into a run this long this can be a real showstopper. I pushed on thinking the faster I got up and over the summit the sooner I could find water. Jim, Mike and I reached the top at 1143, sixteen minutes behind John Robinson, and three minutes ahead of Blake. Soon Blake caught up to us, the four of us running the ridge towards Bull Hill. Blake is a strong downhill runner. Mike, Jim, and I pushed to maintain contact. I began to feel thirsty, a very bad sign—when you get to the stage where you are actually feeling thirst you are already extremely dehydrated. Where was the next water? Skirting Bull Hill to the left we soon found ourselves above the Golden Fleece Mine. Aiming for the old wagon road below we dropped steeply down heather slopes. Once on the road we ran pretty hard. Blake, Mike and Jim stopped for water at one point, but I continued a short ways to look for more of a “water spout” flow to fill my hydro bladder. Man, that water hit the spot! I knew it was too late, but I drank as much as I could hold before continuing. Back and forth the lead changed hands between Blake and I. Finally Blake broke out ahead. Blake won the Hard Rock 100 in 1999 with an at the time course record. Jim and Mike were behind me when I reached Highway 82 at the Echo Canyon Trailhead at 10,000 feet. Mike has run the Hard Rock 100 four times and recently placed 3rd in the Wasatch Steeplechase. I don’t know of Jim’s credentials, but just being “friends” with Mike puts him in elite company in the ultra running world. He certainly proved himself by ultimately finishing Nolan’s. Running the two or three mile stretch of road to the Lake Creek Trailhead for the next peak, La Plata, I was surprised to see how far Blake had got ahead of me in a short time. Mike and Jim, in a cunning tactic, waded Lake Creek half a mile before the trailhead, bushwhacking to the trail, bypassing the aide station, saving over a mile of distance. It was great seeing Laila and Sam there to greet me. Laila had a folding chair ready for me to rest my weary carcass, Fred Vance set to work on repairing a blister forming on my left big toe, I drank, but had little appetite. Laila begged me to eat. I couldn’t force much down though. Before the race I had hoped to reach Lake Creek at 1400—Twenty minutes ahead of schedule I couldn’t feel very elated with this incipient feeling of depletion. Jim and Mike radioed that they had picked up my jacket on the trail coming down from Elbert—it had fallen from my hip pack. Having bypassed the aide station, they left it on the La Plata trail about a mile up trail. When they said it was a nice jacket, I radioed that if they finished the course I would give it to them. After the race I sent a letter to Columbia Sportswear, asking if they would sponsor four finishing jackets for the race finishers. Hopefully they will come through. I set out for La Plata, now 15-30 minutes behind John, Blake, Jim, and Mike. I ran out of water again (!) an hour below La Plata’s summit. This time I shamelessly asked returning climbers if they might spare me any extra water. No luck. Despairing I trudged onward and upward. Soon I saw Dennis Herr below me on the trail and steadily gaining ground. I was not moving very fast any more. Dehydration and depletion were grinding me down. I reached the summit at 1630, five minutes before Dennis, and half an hour behind the front running four. I was in crappy shape though. As I Lurched down the mountain, Dennis closed the gap in rapid order. We continued picking our way down the large talus, aiming for the saddle and the trail that would drop us into the willow basin near timberline on La Plata’s south route. By the time I reached the saddle I had gained a few minutes on Dennis, but in an attempt to avoid the willows and the muddy terrain I recalled from previous La Plata climbs I stayed west and high. It turned out that it wasn’t all that muddy this late in the year and Dennis moved rapidly along the trail. When I finally dropped down to the trail, Dennis had moved ahead by a few minutes. The trail drops from the high basin alongside a running stream—the first opportunity for water in nearly two hours. Never having properly rehydrated after Elbert, now I was severely dehydrated. Still, I was able to run hard once I’d filled up, catching Dennis below the trailhead on the road to Winfield. Dennis “Animal” Herr once ran the Wasatch 100 “double”. Most runners have a hard time finishing the Wasatch 100. Well, one year Dennis started from the finish line and ran to the start in time to run the race. That’s class in the small world of ultra athletes. Happily, Laila and Sam were there to greet me again. I plunked down in the chair, this time ravenous for the noodle dish Laila prepared. I was out of it though, crawling into the tent where Laila intended to sleep that night, and just “rested my eyes” for a while. Finally after nearly an hour I came out. Thoughts of dropping out clouded my usual optimism. I felt very bad. Meanwhile, with his wife, Sue tending to him, Dennis was at a low point as well. While we lay there recovering Laila and Sue got together and came up with the idea for us to continue on that night together—a great idea, as Dennis and I teamed up for the next six peaks. It is great to have a partner pulling you along and helping with route finding. We became great friends over the next hours together. Pushing off for Huron in the twilight we soon found we were still in bad shape. With frequent stops to admire the starry night we finally reached the summit in a slow three hours. We both agreed we simply needed to stop and sleep—see how we felt after that. Radioing from the summit of Huron down to Clohesy Lake Aide station we were not enthused about the sleeping facilities—a space blanket and an enclosed porch at the cabin…. Thoughts of Laila and a warm bag in the tent sent us back down to Winfield. Dennis slept in my truck. After sleeping the sleep of the just, the next morning was a bright new day. We were recovered and ready to climb some fourteeners! Laila drove our packs down to the Missouri Gulch Trailhead, leaving us unencumbered for the four-mile run down the road from Winfield. This unusual “route” was a first for the Nolan’s run, but another runner, Simon Shadowlight, later opted to do the same thing. Feeling fresh we ran the road in just over 30 minutes. We asked Laila to later hike in our “night clothes” to the N. Cottonwood Aide Station; two miles up the Kroenke Lake Trail. Laila left to climb Mount Yale first—she won’t waste the opportunity to bag a peak! We headed up the Missouri Gulch trail for Missouri Peak. As we ascended the “normal route” on Missouri we were pleased to find volunteers for the Colorado Fourteener Initiative working on the trail--they had done a lot of work since I had last been there a mere six weeks before. Climbing strong with the previous night’s rest we reached the summit at 1124—eleven hours behind the leaders! We were no longer in the “race”, but were game to add as many fourteeners as we could within the 60-hour time limit. We rapidly descended from Missouri’s summit reaching the aide station in Elkhead Basin, manned by Tim Erickson, in just over half an hour. There we were treated to some sumptuous fare—TV dinner chicken with mashed potatoes—GREAT eats! We departed for Belford on the route up to Elkhead Pass and the easy trail along the ridge, rather than the more direct route straight for the summit. Only an hour later we were on the summit—I doubt we would have made it any faster on the direct route. Less than an hour later we had completed the traverse to Oxford, returning to the Belford-Oxford saddle for the descent to Pine Creek. I had done this descent twice before, but it had always been a tough descent through cliff bands and steep forest. We made a try at finding an easier route described by Hans and others, but in the end wound up “in the cliffs”. We still managed to reach the trail from Oxford’s summit in 1:22, faster than my two previous descents. Getting on the radio our next objective was to find Fred Vance’s aid station. After 15 minutes of going up trail and down trail, finally Fred’s son found us and led us to the aid station. We were ready to eat! Oatmeal, Ramen noodles, hot chocolate…bring it on! When it started to rain for the only brief weather disturbance of the race Fred let us into their tent where we “rested our eyes” and waited for the passing of the squall. On the radio Ginny inquired after Eric Robinson. Seems she hadn’t seen him in a while and she thought he should be just behind her on Harvard’s slopes. After some time Eric responded that Ginny had woken him from a nap at the 13,000-foot level. Both of them must have been hailed on there during the squall. When we reached Harvard’s summit more than two hours later hail lingered in the cracks and crannies up high. Just over an hour later and we were back in the race, crossing Pine Creek on course for Harvard. Charged up after our rest, we marched up that peak in a blistering 2:10—this was a PR for me—with Jonathan Cavner on our attempt at a 14er speed record last year we did it 2:35—no one this year climbed Harvard from Pine Creek faster than we had. Feeling primed we dropped into Frenchman’s Creek Basin at 12,600 feet before turning up Columbia’s slopes. Initially plotting a course in the waning light of the second day, we ultimately opted for the direct course up the slopes in a straight line for the summit. Columbia’s summit from that direction is elusive—after three false summits we finally stood on the apex at 2109—darkness set in. Setting off along the south ridge we hoped to find the proper scree chute other Nolan’s runners had previously scouted. Neither Dennis nor I had done this route that led down a gentle scree chute, dumping out at the N. Cottonwood Aide Station. We came on the “normal” route down to Horn Fork Basin, where the “trail” bent west. Ignoring this “trail” we continued south along the ridge per the directions we remembered from scouting reports. When we next came on a long flat cairn after a couple hundred yards we misinterpreted it as the marker for the correct descent chute. It was fast enough and an easy descent, though Dennis kept falling behind. I would descend for a few minutes, turn to see where Dennis was, then wait for him to catch up again before continuing. My headlamp was a distinct advantage to his handheld flashlight. After an hour or so we finally had dropped enough elevation to reach timberline. We were off route though near Horn Fork Basin. Consulting map and compass I kept us on a heading to run into the trail, but it was rough going through the deadfall and soggy ground. Suddenly the sky lit up and a huge fireball fell from the sky. It looked like it fell right on the aide station! At first I thought it was a flare sent off by Richard at the aide station to help us find it. Two weeks later an article in the Colorado Springs Gazette about a meteor dropping to the earth near Creede at that exact moment explained it. I have never seen anything like it. Leafing through old New York Times papers that have been piling up here in my apartment today I came on the same article in the NYT. This was an extraordinary event indeed! When we finally stumbled on the trail I knew from previous experience that we were at least three miles from the aide station. While discouraging, at least we were on a trail. Eric Robinson had been sleeping for the last three hours at the aide station, awaking just as we arrived. While I replenished Eric got ready to head out. I hadn’t done this route up Yale before and at night I hoped to go up with him, since he had done the route in daylight before. Dennis decided to stop there and get some sleep. Eric set off, so I hurried up to catch up to him. He had a fifteen-minute head start, but I caught up with him midway up the avalanche chute leading up Yale, directly across from the Kroenke Lake-Horn Fork Basin trail fork. Ascending the avalanche chute was easier than I’d imagined it would be. Somehow I’d envisioned easy hand and foot rock climbing with moderate exposure. Instead it was simply walking up steep high grassy terrain alongside a rushing stream. Large pieces of aluminum were strewn all up and down the chute. My first thought was aircraft, but Eric suggested it might have been mining equipment. The remains of a small engine were so rudimentary that it was difficult to believe that it could be capable of powering even a small plane. On the radio I heard reports from Blake, Mike and Jim as they neared the summit of Princeton, and shared information with Matt coming off Columbia. Eric kept insisting that I go on ahead since “you are a faster climber than I”. “No way!” was my response! Eric knew the route and had a high-powered flashlight—required equipment to illuminate the distant ridges for route finding. Eric tried to explain the route to me, but I was content to take it slow rather than risk getting off course. I was tired and having a hard enough time just consistently putting one foot forward. After finally breaking out above timberline we found ourselves on a ridge leading towards the main NE spine. Suddenly we were faced with a precipitous drop of 250 feet. What now? A compass bearing showed the course had to be directly ahead—down the drop. After some consternation we went forward—this did indeed turn out to be the right way. It’s never easy realizing you have to drop significant elevation—even in broad daylight. I was getting more and more tired—felt like I could lay down on the rocks and go directly to dreamland—I kept myself going by promising that I would hold off until I had reached the summit and then dropped below timberline on the descent—then I could sleep if I still wanted to. At 0426 we finally found ourselves on top of Yale—approximately 4hr10min for the ascent. Dog slow, but given the conditions, acceptable. The descent was miserable. From the summit of Yale to the Denny Creek Trailhead took me two and a half hours. I had run this trail from the trailhead to the summit in 2:15 two years previous. Pathetic. I was amazed to see more than a hundred people pass me and this quite early on a Saturday morning. As these cheerful hikers passed me I could barely muster a semblance of civility. One asked me “Have you already been to the summit?” Taken aback I replied, “Yes, I was on top at 0426” “What time did you start??” “I don’t know I’ve been climbing 14ers for 24 hours straight” I responded and kept on straight ahead. Later I learned that this day, August 18th was the 300th anniversary of the University of Yale and many alma maters decided this was a propitious time to make the climb. Laila along with Sam the Wolfdog had already climbed Yale in “their spare time” on the previous day. Spare time that is from their concerted effort to support me in my race, for which I am very grateful. This was the longest trail for me. I had already psychologically prepared myself to allow sleep once below timberline. When I had reached that point I had to talk myself into continuing all the way to Avalanche Gulch where a tent and a sleeping bag awaited me. Very hard. Very long. But within the realm of possibility. Indeed it did happen! That road from Denny Creek TH to Avalanche Gulch is long! I don’t know exactly how long in miles, but psychologically it is very long in the hot morning sun. Laila thankfully met me in the truck two miles before the end, but I had to finish on my own. She could only provide encouragement and support as I labored to the end—the sleeping bag, my salvation, my relief, and the eternal womb. Laila tried to steer me towards the aide station, but I refused it. Sleep was my only desire. Just tell me where the tent is, that was all I wanted to know. The tent was in the early morning sun though and we had to make some adjustments to bring it in the shade. Once done I went straight to dreamland. An hour and a half later I was awake as the sun shifted and heated up the tent. Laila was gone. The truck was gone. My clothes were gone. I had to pee very badly. Surreptitiously I set out to relieve myself. Where was my wife to be?? She had driven to Buena Vista looking for moleskin for my blisters. Fifteen minutes after I had awoken she arrived. After Follwing a considerable degree of “babying” and feeding I was prepared and ready to tackle Princeton, the final fourteener of this long, long day. This next peak would be the final peak for me in the race, Nolan’s 14. It was a long, long ways yet to go to even knock this one out. From Avalanche Gulch, along the Colorado Trail to the Maxwell Gulch jeep track was ten miles. I didn’t know this as I set out, optimistically forecasting my ascent of Princeton in a mere three hours from Avalanche Gulch. Even “humping it” the tough journey to Princeton’s summit took better than five hours. I pressed on as rapidly as I was capable of. Fred, Jim and company waited patiently on top of Princeton for the ceremony. Where was Laila? Catching snippets of radio talk I kept a steady course. Where was Laila? Though I was only climbing at 12,600 feet I heard Fred state that I would be on the summit in fifteen minutes. I would have to set a world record for altitude gain to achieve that! Laila in the meantime was not on the summit. Fred encouraged her gamely. Would the marriage happen after all? Well, yes it would. As I neared the summit finally, Laila was there. What a happy, glorious moment. A dream comes true. Jim Nolan presided over the vows and ceremony--broadcast over our FRS frequency “14”. Blake Wood and John Robinson delayed on Shavano, Jim Nelson on Tabeguache, for the ceremony as it was broadcast…Eric Robinson and Ginny Laforme had waited on Princeton’s summit to be our best man and best lady. What an incredible moment. A marriage made in heaven—as close to it as you can get anyway on our small planet. Here’s hoping the rest of our lives are as “storybook”. Steve and Laila (and Sam the Wolfdog)