Background
First of all, Olga King’s 2025 FKT report is essential reading for practical information about the trail, so I won't reinvent the wheel by covering those details. Second, I’m writing this almost two months after finishing the FKT, so it’ll be a little less detailed about the journey than it was in my head during the effort (probably for the best).
I had never even heard of the Rainbow Trail until I hiked Humboldt Peak in fall 2025 and crossed it, seeing a nice sign about the trail and looking it up when I got home. There wasn’t a ton of information available, but I learned that it was a little over 100 miles of relatively moderate terrain with no men’s unsupported FKT, so I figured it would be a good early season 2026 goal as my first 100+ mile effort. I did a few scouting trips in spring 2026 to both ends to get some sense of the trail and figure out how to handle the start/finish, covering around 30 miles of the total trail.
I was advised of a seasonal trail closure but could never find a good source on how much of the trail it applied to. At one point near Methodist Mountain on the northern end I saw an official sign reporting a Dec 1- April 15 seasonal closure, but again did not say how much of the trail it applied to. My initial scouting trips after 4/15 encountered dozens of fallen trees across the trail at the southern end but nearly all were cleared by my 6/20 attempt. Big thanks to whoever did the work and another good reason to wait a little bit if you are aiming for efficiency.
My attempt
The first challenge was the logistics of a vehicle shuttle so I’d have my car waiting for me at the northern terminus to drive myself home after finishing. The roads to both ends are pretty rough, complicating access. Fortunately some friends were willing to help out and I left my car on Friday at the northern terminus, running back a few miles to where the road improved to get picked up and spending the evening hanging in Salida. The next morning we drove south, but because my friend’s car wasn’t capable of handling the Muddy Creek Road to the actual southern terminus, they dropped me at the Grape Creek/Music Pass TH, which has a much smoother road. This meant I had to hike four miles south on the trail to the start just to turn around and head back north once the clock was running. Good warmup I suppose!
Conditions were about as ideal as I could hope for, with warm temperatures, mostly blue skies, and many blooming wildflowers and cacti. Views weren’t particularly varied with trees and the foothills of the Sangres to the west and the wide open valley to the east, but were still very nice. The first 20 miles felt great, with easy terrain and occasional animal sightings (skunk, deer, coyotes). As a multi-use trail I was worried I’d be dodging dirt bikes the whole way, but in reality I saw a single mountain biker and about a dozen hikers, all in the first day. Water access was mostly good despite the low snow year, there were no issues finding well-flowing water sources in the surprisingly green first half of the route. About 40 miles in the sun started going down and so did my energy and mood. I ran very little during the night and found the dusty and dry reroute around Bottle Mountain particularly discouraging at the time. I ran out of water on this stretch but the sunrise and a good water source at Hayden Creek gave me a boost, followed quickly by bonking hard on the next climb immediately afterwards.
I was over halfway at this point and the route spends less time in the trees and more time with some decent views. I will also say that while some sections of the trail are dusty, loose, and rocky, the average trail surface was better than I was led to expect and overall quite runnable, fitness permitting. While I wasn’t doing a lot of actual running at this point I was at least on pace to reach my modest goal of staying under 48 hours, with an optimistic target of 40. While my pace was slow I kept most breaks to a few minutes every couple hours. In the late afternoon of day two I reached the burn area of the 2019 Decker Fire, which gave an encouraging view of Salida in the distance and a landmark that I was nearing the end.
With the finish in metaphorical sight, things fell apart a bit. I refilled water at 91mi and began the last real climb of the route. At 1300 feet of gain it’s not much of a climb in the grand scheme of things, but it certainly felt like it at that point. As the sun went down on night two I went through my water much more quickly than expected (likely already being in a bit of a dehydration deficit) and ran out with almost 10 miles to go. This meant I also stopped eating because without water to help it down, the thought of food made me slightly nauseous and I didn’t want to risk vomiting and making things worse.
Crossing US285 and frustratingly having to keep going beyond that seemingly (in my head) much more logical endpoint of the trail, I shuffled onward. The last 10 miles should have been mostly runnable, but I was frequently out of breath and stopping just trying to maintain a 2mph walk. At this point my thoughts were dominated by the desire for water and to at least beat the sunrise. Towards the end of the route there were a few little ephemeral streams, but none with enough water to actually filter from. Finally a mile from the finish was a solid water source. I gratefully stopped and drank 500ml from my Befree filter bottle, refilling it to continue drinking as I walked the last mile. The finish was as anticlimactic as you might expect for being the only person at an isolated trailhead at 4am. I established the men’s unsupported FKT in 42h41m, but I was just relieved to be done and back at my car, which was well-stocked with food, drinks, and clean clothes.
Taking advantage of the post-finish adrenaline, I made it a little north of Salida before the full fatigue hit and I quickly pulled over to take a nap. My exhausted brain decided I needed a podcast to wind down to (an idea proven wrong by immediately falling asleep), so I left the car on but not the engine running. A couple hours later I woke up roasting in the sun with my car battery dead. Fortunately I carry a jumper pack, so with my brain napped and my car zapped, the rest of the journey home to my bed, cats, and ice cream was uneventful.
Total stats on my GPS: 111.2mi, about 20,300ft of gain/loss, 42h41m.
Final Thoughts
Sure, it’s no “ultimate Colorado experience,” but overall it’s a solid and surprisingly peaceful 100ish mile route and a reasonable option for an approachable challenge. I chose this route in part to motivate myself to train over the winter and to do something less peak-focused than my usual goals. While my performance was nothing special and there was more Type II fun than I hoped, at least now I can say I’ve done a 100 miler. I’m glad I did it and think it deserves at least a little more attention in the state!