When the moon shone on a pale granite boulder, it looked like a tent.  I could imagine a well
fed, snoring hiker in his warm sleeping bag dreaming of the meadow he’d eaten lunch in that
afternoon.  I could almost smell the warm campfire around which the day had been reminisced
and plans for tomorrow made.  I drifted hopefully toward it but as my sleepy mind snapped back
to attention I knew it was only a cold rock, that there was to be no company for me that night,
and that I still had to reach the Evolution Creek ford to camp.  Where was that crossing?  Why
was I out on the John Muir Trail at 10:30 at night, two days and 107 miles from Whitney Portal,
alone, cold, and down to one Clif bar and a pack of instant mashed potatoes?  Where the hell
was that crossing?!

It all started because of my father’s love of the mountains.  From the Canadian Rockies, to
Washington’s Cascades, and his most beloved Sierra Nevadas, he had hiked, climbed, and
backpacked as his education and career took him south.  He had first taken me when I was 5,
and by the time I was 7, we went backpacking every summer weekend and for one or two week trips
each year.  In the weekend we backpacked one weekend a month in the coastal mountains.  We
post-holed to higher country starting in May and were often caught by an early season snow
long after Labor Days’ unofficial end to high country travel.

In 1971 my father backpacked the JMT unsupported in nine days, not to set any records, but
because it was what his vacation schedule would allow.  He carried a 2 pound Coleman stove and
a 5 pound Dacron sleeping bag as part of the 65 pound weight of his “Trapper Nelson” pack that
didn’t even have a hip-belt.  He had survived a cold rain storm in a plastic tube tent at
Thousand Island Lake and faced a sleet and snow storm in wool and coated nylon rain gear over
Donohue Pass.  My mother and I waited for him in Tuolumne Meadows as the rain poured down on
our car.  I still remember how scared I felt as I saw my soaked daddy head for the valley.  

Nine years later, my father dropped me off at Whitney Portal as a 14 year old boy to start my
own solo trip on the JMT.  I had spent so much time in the mountains, even my mother had few
concerns for my safety.  Not that there weren’t challenges:  I had to wait at Selden Pass for
two hours for dynamiting and make up the time at night to keep on schedule.  The 33-mile final
day was my longest ever.  The trip was a wonderful adventure.  Neither my father or I realized
it in Yosemite Valley nine days later but he picked up a very different person.  It is still
the most defining event of my life.
 
The John Muir Trail is 222.8 miles long, traversing the backbone of the Sierra Nevada high
country.  It crosses 9 major passes over 11,000 feet and has a net gain of 48,000 feet.  The
trail was completed in 1938 as a memorial to the great naturalist John Muir who focused the
nation’s attention on wilderness.  The fastest time completing the trail has progressed slowly
over the years.  Blake Wood ran the trail in 117 hours and 35 minutes in 1998.  In 2000 Peter
Bakwin and Buzz Burrell set out to finish the trail in under 96 hours (4 days).  They finished
in 110 hours and 39 minutes, after being stopped by a hailstorm in Tuolumne Meadows.  Peter
came back in 2003 and ran the trail in 94 hours and 4 minutes setting the fastest time till my
run.  Brian Robinson, the only person to finish the “triple crown”  (Appalachian, Continental
Divide, and Pacific Crest Trails) in a year, attempted the record later in 2003 and was ahead
of pace at Tuolumne Meadows, but became lost at night due to sleep deprivation.  He finished
in 103 hours and 2 minutes.  The reports of their experiences and difficulties were important
in helping me set the record of 93 hour and 5 minutes on my trip.  They can be viewed at:  

http://www.run100s.com/JMT/jmt98bw.txt  (Blake Wood) 
http://dimensional.com/~buzz/JMT/story_peter.html  (Peter and Buzz)
http://pbakwin.home.comcast.net/jmt2003/jmt2003.htm  (Peter’s Record)
http://www.stevenscreekstriders.org/events/brian_r/jmt_challenge.html  (Brian’s trip)

When you talk about a “record” on a remote trail, it is important to specify the conditions
under which the record was set.  Backpacking without crew or re-supply is a different journey
than traveling with lighter gear and frequent re-supply.  Most prior records have been set
with 4 to 7 crew re-supply stops.  Tactics have also included sacrificing sleep for trail time,
often only 4 to 6 hours total sleep over 4 days.  Hiking all night means you don’t need sleeping
gear which reduces weight.  I decided the extra time and gear weight needed for sleeping on the
trail at predictable hours was worth its cost.  More sleep would allow me to sustain a faster
pace as the days went by, particularly helpful as the cumulative hours on the trail racked up
and deep fatigue set in.  

The plan was to run the first 45 miles—to the top of Mt. Whitney (14,496’ and the highest point
in the continental United States), over Forester Pass, and part way up Glen Pass--before
meeting my sister Heather and her husband Jeff at the Charlotte Lake junction, picking up my
overnight pack, and continuing until 10pm.  I would then get a short night of sleep.  On the
second day I would ascend Pinchot, Mather, and Muir passes and if all went well, camp with my
father at the Blaney Meadows junction.  On the third day I would leave my overnight pack and
meet Mac and Sara McKinley at a Red’s Meadow cabin before running the final 57 miles to Yosemite
Valley.  With this plan I would have to carry an overnight pack for only 1/3 of the trail.
Each day I would be able to re-supply and adjust my gear.  

On July 31 at 5:05 a.m., I began my journey on the John Muir Trail at Whitney Portal.  The sense
of dread and excitement was soon replaced by wonder for the deep granite of Lone Pine Canyon,
the high mountain streams, and delicate meadows.  I needed my flashlight only briefly in dark
stream canyons then began passing even earlier morning Mt. Whitney climbers.  Just before Trail
Crest Pass, I was surprised to see Chris Scott, Coyote 4 Play RD and VHTRC friend, with a group
of three other runners finishing a 3 day fastpack trip with an early morning fastpack ascent of
Mt. Whitney.  After brief hellos, I arrived at Trail Crest Pass at 7:58 a.m. and Mt. Whitney
after 11 miles at 8:44 a.m.

When I decided to run the John Muir Trail, it was with mixed emotions.  On one hand, it seemed
sacrilegious to rush through such a beautiful area.  John Muir used the word “saunter” to
describe his travels through the Sierra Nevada Mountains and spent hours developing an
appreciation for its glacial carved canyons, flowered meadows, and rugged peaks.  I would
certainly not be sauntering and felt a sense of sadness for what I would be missing.  On the
other hand I’m an ultrarunner, the John Muir Trail is a premier rugged mountain trail and has
an established speed record.  It helped that I knew it well enough to plan support.  The trail
is very difficult for crew to access, requiring overnight backpack trips of 14-20 miles except
in two locations in the last 57 miles where it crosses roads.    

I left Mt. Whitney at 8:47a.m. after signing the register and catching my breath.  With my
2 bottle running pack laden with the day’s food and drink mixes (as well as a small cigarette
lighter to start a fire and a garbage bag for an emergency tent), I was able to make decent
time.  I walked the uphill and rocky downhill, ran the easier downhill and level ground.
Maintaining a conservative pace early would be important in preserving myself for the later
days.  I had an eating schedule that included one tortilla or pita sandwich every 2 hours, and
a Clif bar, jelly beans or corn nuts every 30 minutes.  I kept to this schedule throughout the
trip even as the food I was eating progressively lost its appeal.  I had decided against the
weight and time water filtration would require.   My father and I hadn’t treated water in the
70’s and 80’s and had never gotten ill.  We had been choosy about water sources and I counted
on my experience to avoid illness.  Giardia usually takes a week to strike, so even if I became
ill, it wouldn’t affect my trip.

Crossing Wallace (11:47 a.m.) and Tyndall Creeks (12:59 p.m.) allowed me to soak my shirt and
head to keep cool in the hotter afternoon temperatures.  I was careful to clean my socks, shoes,
and feet every few hours.  There were already hot spots on my feet, and I knew that blisters
could quickly end the trip.  The multiple five minute foot care stops took valuable time, but
without them, even more time could have been lost.  The second major ascent of the trail,
Forester Pass (13,200’), was much more difficult than I expected.  Around 2 p.m. I became
sleepy and lay down for a 10 minute nap beside the trail.  I took several of these naps
during my four days on the trail and usually found them refreshing.  On the final 1000 feet
of Forester Pass my pack felt more like the 70 pound packs I carried for week long trips in
my youth.  The trail surface and running was much better after leaving the pass at (3:00 p.m.).
I met Jeff at Viedette Meadows hiking up the trail to meet me.  He radioed ahead to Heather
to start dinner.  I spent 30 minutes with Heather and Jeff at the Charlotte Lake junction.
In my 30 minutes with them, I ate, repacked into my overnight pack, and taped early blisters.
I left, partially restored, at 6:10 p.m.  The overnight pack I carried for the next 70 miles
had a base weight of just under 8 lbs and with 1 ½ days of food and water, I was carrying about
13 lbs.  I could have traveled faster with running gear but this would mean not sleeping again
till I met my father.  

Heather accompanied me to the top of Glen Pass (7:03 p.m.), snapped a few pictures, and sent
me alone into Rae Lakes and the canyons beyond where I would spend my first night.  I got water
from a trailside spring and enjoyed the last rays of sun on the Painted Lady (a beautiful
formation guarding the Rae Lakes basin).  I got my headlamp out at 8:40 p.m. (though carried
it in my hand) and arrived at South Fork at 9:45 p.m. after 56 miles.  I would have liked to
go farther since it was another 59 miles from there to my father and they would be harder miles
carrying a heavier pack.  South Fork had the advantages of low elevation and a bear box (metal
box to keep food protected from bears).  I was also in need of some foot care after descending
the rocky trail.  I quickly set up camp next to Redbeard (a PCT through-hiker), ate the
zip-locked remains of my dinner, patched my feet, and went to bed. 

I awoke at 3:50 a.m. without an alarm.  Almost immediately a meteor shot in the direction I was
heading.  I took this as a sign, packed, and started hiking.  I was still a bit tired, but
still felt excited about the trip though a bit worried about how far I could get that day.
I convinced myself that another day of acclimation, lower passes, and less overall elevation
gain I could reach my father.  Blister repair was required in the dark 15 minutes down the
trail. Later, as the moon set and the sun rose, I stopped for a quick breakfast before
arriving at Pinchot Pass at 7:28 a.m.  With only 10 miles between Pinchot Pass and Mather Pass
I was hoping for a 3 hour crossing.  Additional blister repair and mounting fatigue lost me
nearly one hour.  I left Mather Pass after a 10 minute nap on a shaded rock ledge at 11:18am.
I then ran quickly downhill on mostly good trail to the beautiful alpine Palisade Lakes
(12:13 p.m.) then into the manzanita and willow lowland at the base of Muir Pass which was
11 miles and 4000 feet away.  Time and distance dragged and I left the top at 6:53 p.m.
With 19 miles between me and my father at Blaney Meadows, the chances looked poor for a full
dinner, companionship, and an “easy” 50 mile third day.  I decided I’d try to reach him only
if I continued to hold a good pace.  Otherwise, I felt I should at least ford Evolution Creek,
so I could start the day with dry and repaired feet.  When my pace slowed, I camped 8 miles
short of my father after 52 miles and fording Evolution Creek.  Because there was no way to
let him know I when I would arrive, it was fortunate we had agreed that he would wait for me
until noon the next day.  After a dinner of instant mashed potatoes, I fell asleep wondering,
given my blisters and aching legs, what the morning would bring.

I woke at 5 a.m. and spent nearly 30 minutes dressing blisters and getting packed.  It hurt
so much getting my shoes on that I expected my trip would be over when I met my father 8 miles
later.  I resolved to walk for 30 minutes before trying any running.  Five minutes down the
trail, my shoes and feet had stopped arguing, my legs warmed to an unnoticeable ache and
thoughts of meeting my father and a good breakfast had me running the switchbacks down to
Goddard Creek.  I arrived at the Blaney Meadows Junction at 7:20 a.m., met my father, and
plowed into a good meal.

I left Blaney Meadows at 8:02 a.m. feeling great!  The good feelings were fueled by a can of
river cooled Coke, a breakfast of chicken noodle soup and salmon pasta, and the tender card
my wife had hidden in the pack brought in by my father.  The euphoria lasted as I carried my
smaller Platypus pack up Selden Pass and imagined meeting Mac and Sara at Red’s Meadow,
having a shower, and sleeping in a real bed.  The good feelings faded in the heat over Bear
Ridge, but the good running down to Mono Creek (2:34 p.m.) kept me close to my ideal schedule
despite increasing trail dust which necessitated more frequent foot care.  

As I started up Silver Pass I began to get sleepy so another 10 minute nap was ordered and
delivered on shaded granite.  The nap didn’t fully refresh, so I took a caffeine pill in
preparation for what now looked like a late arrival at Red’s Meadow.  The good feelings were
now a distant memory.  I reached Silver Pass at 5:07 p.m. and ran into Cascade Valley.  At
Tully Hole I stopped and spoke with three women backpackers, hoping for some leftover hot
dinner.  They couldn’t offer this, but it was nice to talk for a few minutes.  Although I
passed people regularly, I rarely gave more than a friendly greeting.  There simply wasn’t
time to exchange stories and plans with incredulous hikers.  As evening came and I arrived
at Virginia Lake I thought of how nice it would be to set up a tent and enjoy the sunset, the
alpenglow, then gaze at the stars and moon in their spectacular but subtle light show on the
Silver Divide.  I really wished I could slow down and enjoy the country I was rushing through.  

The trail to Red’s Meadow was filled with numerous small climbs and descents.  Sand and cinders
repeatedly filled my shoes and a certain desperation developed as twilight slipped into
darkness.  It was on this section I discovered that every syllable of the “ABC” song can be
replaced with the “F” word and I must with shame report that I sung this song repeatedly as I
descended into Red’s Meadow.  The singing finally stopped at 11:58 p.m. when I arrived at the
cabin.

Mac and Sara provided a very welcome respite.  The hot shower was heavenly and the pasta
filling, but the company and chance to decompress was most appreciated.  From Heather and
Jeff, to my father, and now Mac and Sara it was friends and family that had made a trip this
fast possible.  Mac and Sara had even taken off two work days to support my trip.  My wife,
who could not leave our three children and directly support me, served as the “Where’s Kevin”
information station.  After a crew met me and got back to a phone, they would call her so she
could inform others how I was doing.  It helped to know that Mac would be with me all the way
to Yosemite Valley.  It took a while to fall asleep, but the soft bed was somewhat more
comfortable than the thin insulite of the prior two nights.

After a tentative sleep, I woke at 6:15 a.m., dressed, and ate a quick breakfast.  Mac and I
packed the pre-made sandwiches (Thanks Sara!) and headed off through the valley cold on the
final day.  The excitement of being only 57 miles from Happy Isles held back the growing
fatigue—a little.  I took a quick nap by Garnet Lake but it didn’t refresh me so I took a
caffeine pill.  We arrived at Island Lake Pass at 12:01 p.m., Donohue at 1:52 p.m. and
carefully descended the steep, rocky trail to the flats of Lyell Fork canyon.  Although I
hoped to run this easy section well, the 85F temperatures, tired legs, and a 10 minute foot
repair at Ireland Creek ate into the pace.  We arrived at Tuolumne Meadows at 6:00 p.m. and
had a dinner of chicken noodle soup (delicious after the increasing impalatability of bars
and pita sandwiches), sushi (Thanks Sara!!), and nearly 2 L of Dr. Pepper.

By 6:38 p.m. we were ready to go--nearly.  With another long night facing me, feet hurting
and 22 miles to go, I became scared and thought about quitting.  What if I was reduced to a
painful limp and couldn’t stay warm?  What if I got lost and wandered around in the dark?
What if I really got hurt?  With the help of Mac and Sara, I screwed up my courage and headed
toward the valley with hand bottles of Dr. Pepper and Chunky Man soup.  

The evening light on Cathedral Peak again found me pining for a campsite.  I repaired my feet
for the last time at the Cathedral Lakes junction (8:10 p.m.).  It got dark just before
Cathedral Pass and we took an unplanned tour through Sunrise camp (9:48 p.m.) before
re-finding the John Muir Trail.  The five miles to the Merced Lake trail junction looked easy
on paper with its 800’ net loss, but this didn’t account for the 1000’ climb that came first
or the rocky 1800’ descent that followed.  When we finally arrived at the junction, I got a
boost from a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  Mac and I then made good time to the Half Dome
cut off.  I lost the skin and toenail of my right small toe just before Little Yosemite Valley,
but figured I couldn’t do much about the pain and just kept going.  Below Nevada Falls we
descended past several early morning Half Dome climbers.  At 2:01 a.m. with 1 mile to go I
ran my fastest mile of the trip to try and beat Peter’s record by a full hour.  We arrived
at the official John Muir Trail start at 2:10 a.m., 93:05 after leaving Whitney Portal.

It’s been several weeks since I finished the John Muir Trail.  The mouth sores and blisters
have healed.  The cold and sore throat that lingered for a week is gone.  I’m running again.
Am I glad I did it?  Yes.  Would I do it again?  I don’t think so.  I’m sure my time will
fall someday, but no one can take the experience of four days of living so close to my
limits.  There will always be those who push themselves to greater levels of misery for
greater measures of glory.  My next trip to the Sierras will take a bit more time.  I will
stop to enjoy the stillness and faded colors of twilight, the dappled patterns of shadow
edging a warm flowered meadow, and the penetrating crispness of morning air.  Life is a
process not a destination and there are some beautiful destinations I’d like a bit more
time to experience.