DST date PDT Elaspsed Depart Whitney Portal 0.0 8/11 05:08 00:00 Arrive Whitney Summit 11.0 8/11 09:26 04:18 Depart Whitney Summit 11.0 8/11 09:47 04:39 Forester Pass 31.5 8/11 15:41 10:33 Glen Pass 42.9 8/11 19:23 12:15 Arrive camp near Woods Crk 50.0 8/11 21:00 15:52 Depart camp 50.0 8/11 23:06 17:58 approx 1 hour sleep Pinchot Pass 58.0 8/12 02:40 21:32 Mather Pass 68.5 8/12 06:54 25:46 Arrive Bishop Pass Trail 83.5 8/12 10:55 29:47 Depart Bishop Pass Trail 83.5 8/12 12:01 30:53 resupply Muir Pass 91.2 8/12 15:25 34:17 Arrive Piute Creek Trail 109.3 8/12 20:12 39:04 Depart Piute Creek Trail 109.3 8/13 00:57 43:49 approx 3.5 hours sleep Selden Pass 118.6 8/13 04:38 47:30 Silver Pass 139.5 8/13 12:02 54:54 40 min break at Quail Meadows Arrive Reds Meadow 158.6 8/13 19:32 62:24 Leave Reds Meadow 158.6 8/14 01:16 68:08 approx 3 hours sleep, resupply Donohue Pass 181.5 8/14 11:29 78:21 Arrive Tuolumne Meadows 193.6 8/14 16:00 82:52 Leave Tuolumne Meadows 193.6 8/14 18:05 84:57 approx 1 hour sleep, resupply Happy Isles 219.6 8/15 03:12 94:04 (89:25 from summit of Whitney) "Kevin, I have to lie down," I plead. Throwing my shattered body onto the soft ground beneath a pine tree I fall instantly asleep. Ten minutes later Kevin awakens me and I stagger back onto the trail, hoping desperately to make it to Tuolumne Meadows and the rest of my support crew. What seems hours later Stephanie and Deborah are waiting at a bridge over the Lyell Fork, and I again flop to the ground, this time unable to do anything but shivver and sob uncontrollably. Twenty five miles from the end of the 220 mile long John Muir Trail, and after 83 hours of nearly non-stop travel, I am a complete physical and emotional wreck. Things do not look good for my attempt to break the speed record on this classic trail. Three years earlier Buzz Burrell and I had our dreams of a sub-4-day run of the JMT thwarted on this exact spot. After 3.5 days of hot, dry weather we were pounded by a sudden, horrific thunderstorm that parked over Tuolumne for several hours, dropping rivers of rain and 4 inches of hail. Exhausted and discouraged, and with the evening light failing, we were forced to retire to Yosemite Valley for a brief sleep before continuing. We did manage to set the record (110:39 from Whitney Portal to Happy Isles), but it was not what we were hoping for. Since then the idea of running the JMT under 4 days (car-to-car) continued to haunt me. Buzz called it the "4 minute mile of multiday adventure running". I thought about doing a solo attempt. So, when in the fall of 2002 my friend Paul Pomeroy proposed that we do the JMT together the following summer, I immediately accepted. We picked the dates (the full moon in August) and started planning and dreaming. Key to success would be assembling a strong support team. My wife Stephanie Ehret said she would support us, and I was grateful knowing that having her there would be a huge emotional comfort for me. Our friend Deborah Askew, from Auburn, CA, immediately signed on saying it would be a great excuse to get up into the mountains for a week. Deb has climbed mountains, run and hiked all over this area, including doing the entire JMT in about 7.5 days. She knows the trails, trail heads and wilderness permit system extremely well, an absolutely vital asset for us. A few weeks before departure our Boulder friend Kevin Taverner, a veteran of the Leadville and Hardrock 100 mile runs, agreed to help as well. We were set. Less than a week before departure we hit a major snag. Paul was suffering from a mysterious illness or injury that caused debilitating pain in his chest and back. Paul was out, no question. Contemplating my options I briefly considered cancelling the trip. But, we had a good plan and I was mentally and physically prepared, I decided to go it alone, but I was keenly disappointed to lose my partner and friend. I went to Buzz's house hoping for a good pep talk and was not disappointed and he helped me regain enthusiasm for the trip. We stayed in Lone Pine on Sunday night and were privilaged to have dinner at the local pizza place with Badwater legends Ben & Denise Jones. Whit Rambach was also in town to play in the mountains and came along to dinner. He immediately told us that he wanted to be involved any way he could "Just tell me what you need." "My Mojo says you are going to cruise this thing," Whit told me. "And my Mojo is never wrong!" So, at 5:08 a.m. on Monday, August 11, Steph, Deb, Kevin, Whit and I stepped onto the trail and began the ascent of Whitney. It was a beautiful morning, crystal clear, and as the sun rose we were treated to stunning alpenglow on the rugged peaks and abutments all around. We summitted at 9:26, over 40 minutes faster than Buzz & I had done in 2000. I wondered if I was already pushing too hard, but the climb felt easy and the altitude (14,495') was no problem. After snarfing a sandwich and snapping some photos it was time to get rolling. We cruised back down to Trail Crest and paused for hugs and hand shakes, then I took off down the switchbacks to Guitar Lake to whoops and hollers of my friends. I felt good and strong, but already a little lonely. I was heading into the wilderness and knew I would not see my friends again for more than 24 hours. Climbing over Forester and then Glen Pass (43 miles) the first signs of wear began to show. Though not really nauseated, each time I climbed above 12,000 feet my stomach felt queasy. Soon, even at lower altitudes I felt no desire to eat. I knew that I was not as well acclimated as I should have been, and now I could see that this was going to be an issue. I also knew I could not succeed without calories, so continued to force the food down. Its no fun to eat when you don't feel like it, but sometimes you just have to do what must be done. I cruised by the beautiful Rae Lakes in soft evening light. Backpackers had set up camps around the lakes and I longed to join them, sitting down for a cup of tea and some pleasant conversation. But, I pressed on down South Baxter Creek. A little way above the Woods Creek I had to dig out my flashlight. A bit farther I would reach the trail's lowest point for many miles, a good place to camp. At 9 p.m. I recognized the exact spot where Buzz and I had slept our first night during the 2000 trip, and it seemed like a good place to lie down. After just 50 miles I was already at least 3.5 hours ahead of our pace from our previous trip. Resting here in 2000 Buzz and I had been forced to put on our rain gear against hordes of mosquitos, and then were nearly too warm to sleep. This time there were no mosquitos, but though wearing everything I had (essentially the same clothes I had for the 2000 trip) I woke up shivering after only about an hour. I briefly considered climbing into my mylar space blanket bag, but decided that I felt awake and might as well continue. The moon was bright and inviting as I crossed the wobbly suspension bridge over Woods Creek and began the ascent of Pinchot Pass. I cleared Pinchot in the dark, but the full moon shed a friendly light on the landscape. At the base of Mather Pass I stopped to eat and, dispite the chill, fell asleep lying on a flat rock. I was awakened in a few minutes by the sound of my own snoring. Climbing Mather Pass I was treated to another stellar sunrise, and my energy level rose. The 4000 foot descent off Mather was in spots very steep and rocky, not good travel at all. A pain in my knee seemed to be getting worse with each downhill step, but I was spurred along by the thoughts of seeing my friends at Le Conte. There was quite a crowd to meet meet me when I arrived at Le Conte (83 miles) about 11 a.m. Steph, Deb and Whit had hiked in 12 miles over Bishop Pass. There were also some hikers and a ranger there. I inhaled as much food as I could handle while working to drain and tape some blisters that had been bothering me. After a very brief nap in the shade Whit and I bid adieu to our friends and pressed on up Le Conte Canyon. It was a long (another 4000 foot gain), hot and tiring hike to Muir Pass at 12,000 feet, but up one of the most beautiful canyons on the JMT. As we descended off Muir Pass Whit regailed me with fascinating stories of his ill-fated speed attempt on the JMT (foiled by horrible weather), running Badwater (his first ultra!), and of climbing the high points of all 50 states in just 66 days (the current speed record.) This guy has done everything! Whit was a super pacer, upbeat and positive, telling me how well I was moving when I felt extremely tired and slow. We ran down "cruiser" trail through McClure Meadow and forded Evolution Creek. My injured knee, now badly inflamed, was really bothering me, especially on the steeper downhill sections, such as the rocky descent to the San Joaquin River. Running along the river to Piute Creek I was distracted from the pain and fatigue by the lovely waterfalls and cascades. We arrived at Piute Creek just at dusk. At 108 miles I was about 6 hours ahead of the pace Buzz and I set in 2000. Whit and I made a small dinner of nuts, granola and a PB&J sandwich, and then he wished me well and departed for the 17 mile hike out via the Piute Trail. I put on every bit of clothing I had, lay down on my 1/2 RidgeRest pad and fell asleep. About 1.5 hours later I awoke shivvering. This time I crawled into my mylar bag, hoping to get a good night's sleep. It was plenty warm in the bag, but it soon became clammy with perspiration, not so comfortable. Nevertheless, I slept about 2 more hours, awakening around 12:30 a.m. The moon was bright, beaconing me to continue, and my legs and felt remarkably recovered. I tested my knee and it seemed serviceable. So I shook the sweat out of the mylar bag, ate some, and was on my way before 1 a.m. The climb up Selden Pass (119 miles) was pleasant and I felt strong again. The moon was intensely bright and made for soft views all around as I climbed past Sallie Keyes lakes. I paused briefly to enjoy the moment and the silent mystery of the dark hills all around. The day started to get hot as I descended the dozens of switchbacks off of Bear Ridge, and my knee was in real agony on the steep though rather smooth trail. At Quail Meadows I took a 40 minute break to ice the knee in Mono Creek and re-dress the blisters on my feet. Getting started again was difficult as the knee was very stiff, but eventually it worked itself loose as I made the long, hot climb up towards Silver Pass (140 miles). Descending the pass I was eager to see Steph and Deb who had hiked in via Duck Pass. I encountered them cooling off in the creek at Tully Hole, but some biting flies were swarming so I just kept moving and let them catch up. Climbing out of the valley was extremely hot up a steep, switchbacking trail. I was beginning to have trouble maintaining my body temperature and really felt lousy. The traverse to Duck Lake and then Reds Meadow seemed endless and we stopped whenever possible to cool off in the occasional streams. Much of the trail was rather flat but the surface was extremely soft making for difficult running with my tired legs. I recognized the burned area just before Reds (159 miles) and knew we were close. We arrived at around 7:30 p.m. and found Kevin all set up at a nice site in the campground. Before I could even sit down he had hot food in front of me, which I wolfed down while removing my shoes. Suddenly faced with the trappings of civilization I was nearly overwhelmed by the complexity of it all! Eat, shower, eat, dig through my gear, etc. (The shower was a luxury, but I knew I would sleep better for it.) You have to go to the bathroom in a designated spot! I laid down in my tent (heaven!) and fell asleep while Steph re-taped my blistered feet. I awoke at 12:30 a.m. feeling ready to go. I was very worried about the condition of my knee, but it seemed to function OK. I snarfed as much food as I could handle, and Kevin and I were back on the trail by 1:15. It had been a break of nearly 6 hours, but some much needed R&R. I was still over 6 hours ahead of the pace Buzz and I had set in 2000. The trail between Reds and Shadow Lake is probably the worst of the entire JMT. It is soft, dusty pumice sand mixed with plenty of horse and mule shit and piss. With the soft ground and mostly gradual climbing we ran very little. The area was also very dry and we ran out of water for some time -- the only time this happened on the whole trip. Sometime around 4 a.m. I was extremely sleepy and laid down on a rock for a 5 minute nap. The sun rose on us around Shadow Lake and we entered a section of some of the best mountain scenery anywhere. At Garnet Lake the morning light was stunning as the moon sank below Banner Peak and Mt Ritter, and Kevin was snapping pictures right and left. We moved very well past Thousand Island Lake and over "Island Pass", but the heat started getting to me once again as we began the long ascent of Donohue Pass. We made frequent stops to douse ourselves with water from the abundant streams, and I made point to move slowly up the pass in order to avoid overheating. Kevin was an outstanding "pacer". Knowing my knee was troubling me he would give helpful cues on my form to help me run more smoothly. When we hit runnable sections he would remind me to move by simply saying "Cruiser!" But mainly we just enjoyed the day and eachother's company. Near the top of Donohue Pass a backpacker overtook us, a rare occurance! We got to chatting and Kevin and I told him what we were up to. We took a break at the top of the pass while the backpacker continued with some elacrity. As we picked our way down the rocky trail off the pass we encountered the backpacker again, now weilding a large-format Pentax and snapping away. It turns out he was John Dittli, photographer for Backpacker Magazine! Though flattered to be the object of such attention, I imagined thousands of backpackers turning up their noses at the idea of "running" such a fabulous route as the JMT. The descent of Donohue was nasty -- steep and rocky, and I was still having a lot of trouble with overheating and just plain fatigue. Half way down we encountered a solo woman backpacker coming up at a rapid clip. She stopped to say hi and asked "Are you running the trail?" Her voice indicated that she must be deaf, and then I recognized her as Patti Haskins, who was featured in "A Race for the Soul," a Public TV program on the Western States 100. We tried to converse, but I was absentmindedly (deleriously?) stuffing a Clif Bar into my mouth and so of course her attempts to lip read were stymied. I wanted to ask her what she was up to, but eventually we both gave up, wished eachother well, and went along our way. Later I managed to contact Patti by email and received the following from her: "I had a great time to backpack JMT. WOW! What a beautiful. I was supposed to be running and backpacking for five days but ended up I got a big storm between Forester Pass and Mt Whitney. I did not bring my tent all. I did not realize the weather was so bad. I decided to sleep in the bear box. Cool! It took 7 days. I think I will do again sometimes in the fall or so. I climbed Mt Split during run. Smiles! Cool! Patti" WOW! Kevin and I continued down the annoying rocky trail and finally reached the flat trail along the Lyell Fork, with about 8 miles to Tuolumne Meadows. HOT! I was completely spent! By the time we reached the first turn off to Tuolumne, about 4 p.m., I was a total physical and emotional wreck. But, a 2 hour rest with about an hour of deep sleep revived me sufficiently to continue. Steph had sat with me while I slept, which was extremely comforting. I downed some cold lentil soup that Steph and Deborah had brought out to the trail in a water bottle & the three of us headed out again, leaving Kevin to relax a bit and then drive into the Valley to meet us at the finish. Steph and Deborah were cheerful and entertaining companions and I was grateful to have them. The two of them had developed a real bond over the last few difficult days of crewing (I think maybe they got less sleep than I did!) which was really neat to see. We climbed rather slowly as the day faded away, marveling at the tremendous views of this enchanting landscape -- Yosemite. With the daylight whatever little energy I had left also drained away, and soon I was pleading for another nap, so the girls gave me 10 minutes. We passed Sunrise Camp as the moon rose. Steph was reveling in the beauty of the night and the wonderful nocturnal scenery -- she had never been to Yosemite before. Her enthusiasm gave me energy, but not enough and soon I need yet another 10 minute nap. Rising and continuing on Deborah mentioned that we had come 12 miles in the last 5 hours, and would need to complete the last 14-15 miles in 6 hours in order to make the 96 hour goal. Given that it was mostly downhill that seemed do-able, but the reality check was indeed sobering. I resolved to take no more naps. As it turned out, no more were needed. A short time after we began the long, 4500+ foot downhill into Yosemite Valley I suddenly felt GREAT. After days of pushing pushing pushing and feeling more and more fatigued I was running FAST and the conversation behind me ceased as the girls needed to focus just to keep pace! I could not explain this sudden rebirth, it seemed that I had received some mysterious energy from the cosmos. But, I did not question it, I just put the hammer down and RAN. We CRUISED over the smooth sections and flitted lightly over the rocky ones. At 1 a.m. I felt better than I had for 3 full days. We passed over the top of Nevada Falls but barely paused. We hammered the horse trail into the valley. I was extremely grateful to be ending the trip on such a positive note. All the struggles of the previous 24 hours seemed to have somehow led to this final moment, here on a lonely mountain trail in the middle of the night. At precisely 3:12 a.m. on Friday, August 15 we burst onto the gravel path at Happy Isles Trail Head. The run was over, and I felt a tremendous sense of ... nothing. It was simply time to get into the car and go to sleep. Assimilation of the experience would have to wait. I lay down in the back of the 4Runner as Kevin drove us to Linda Lee's house. I barely recall arriving, and next thing I knew it was 9 a.m. and I was listening to the trees russle in a pleasant morning breeze. Heaven. Perhaps, I thought, the way to heaven leads right through the depths of hell. Peter Bakwin Boulder, CO