Sometime in the Summer of 2022 a list was made. A list that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying, a mix of reckless ambition and absurd daydreaming. On the tough days I would look at that list and believe I had no business making it. But I had heard that if your dreams don’t scare you, they might not be big enough.
Today, after a few years of dedication, determination, lots of set backs, even more growth, and so much gratitude for what I have and what I can become, I get to cross the final route off my list...
My plan was similar to my first go: charge hard up Marble Canyon and try to save a little somethin somethin for that final third push.
Marble canyon is the heart of this route - its windy, narrow canyon walls, polished by millennia of rain, tower around you. The sand here felt softer than I remembered and I did not recall so much overgrowth, which made me nervous about what Cottonwood Canyon would hold. Still I felt pretty damn good here.
After making the chockstone mistake last time, I was determined not to do it again and scurried up the right side of the canyon before having to turn around. I hit a thicker section of growth at the end of the canyon and began to struggle a bit. The next section which holds the major climb of the route is not entirely straight forward and I was glad to have the route loaded into my phone and watch. I made my second mistake here last go so I took my time not to do the same.
After a successful fight with the loose sand, I crested the high point and was feeling quite cooked. Even though I was walking…I mean power hiking it, my HR was reading at 170 or above for most of the climb, which is not exactly where I wanted to be this early in the route. Luckily, the route gives way to a nice downhill section and I was able to recover while moving quickly.
I had a lot more luck last time in Cottonwood Canyon as I remember it being much easier to navigate than what the interweb warned. But the brambles awaiting my return were after revenge and they could tell I was scared of them. I tried my darndest to avoid them, almost getting cliffed out climbing the canyon sides, putting myself in some unnecessary danger.
Each time I would make a pass through the thickets to the other side, the vines would jump at my ankles and the thorns would lash at my skin. I went down numerous times, puncturing a full flask in one of the falls. I was getting nasty flashbacks to the Hayduke, but this time Tim Hunt was not there to help charge through the mess in front of me.
It felt like I was losing a lot of time flopping around in the brambles, pausing to try to find some sort of clearing. I was beginning to think this thing was slipping away from me. After getting through the last of the three nasty sections, the old dirt road appeared. FREEDOM!
In those last 10 miles it was all diesel, no brakes. I knew Cordis had closed really hard on his attempt and I would need to do the same. It would be a delicate game against cramping as I knew I was under hydrated and now had one flask left since the brambles took my other flask. I really should have stopped to get more water when I had the chance.
The old road was surprisingly firm with only a few sections of deeper sand that made it tougher going. With about 8 miles left I knew I had a decent shot if I could keep up a solid pace through the end. I took one last caffeinated Gu with about 7 miles to go which would sit a little funky in the stomach.
With 4 miles left I knew that if I didn’t cramp up I had a really good shot to take a chunk of time off this FKT. I would give it all that I had in those last miles, yelling at myself “THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED.” Not exactly the self talk I had practiced, but served as an inspiring reminder to myself that I chose this discomfort, I suppose.
I started seeing a few stars in those last couple miles, but managed to hold on and charge the last little bump back up to the parking lot where my van full of water and treats awaited me.
4:24:35
Time for a new list.