FKT: Nathaniel Gilbert - Colorado Trail (CO) - 2023-09-06

I am thrilled to announce a new unsupported FKT of 11 days, 5 hours, 45 min, 57 sec for the Colorado Trail via Collegiate West from West to East.

• My detailed day-by-day report followed by my lessons learned is below.
• My gear list and weight breakdown can be found here
• My food list, weights, and calories can be found here
• Updates were posted here: https://www.instagram.com/ngilbertoutside/
• Additional pictures and stats can be found at the Strava links for each day

Per the requirements of an unsupported effort: I carried all of gear and food from the start. I carried my trash to the finish. I received no outside support.

It has been a wild adventure filled with highs, lows, and everything in between! Thank you all for following along.

- Nathaniel Gilbert

Day 1 (8/26): (https://www.strava.com/activities/9800511350)

I arrived at the Junction Creek Trailhead, dark and early, at 4:30AM. It was earlier than I would have liked, but the only time I could arrange a ride. With the impending early morning departure looming, I had gotten absolutely zero sleep. It was not the well-rested start I had hoped for.

After taking the time to down some food, discover that someone was sleeping in the pit toilet, and prep before starting the clock, I set out at 4:55:03AM.

I moved rapidly through the darkness for 1.5 miles until I reached for my water bottle and felt…. Nothing. The bottle had fallen out in the car. I came to a screeching halt, quickly evaluated my options, and decided that missing the majority of my water carrying capacity was cause to turn around or even abandon my FKT attempt. As an “unsupported” hiker, I would not be permitted to obtain a replacement bottle along the way. And, regardless, today was the day I would reach the longest dry stretch of the Colorado Trail.

It was demoralizing, to say the least. I hoped to find a bottle in the trash bin I had spotted by the trailhead. I figured I had until 6AM, at the latest, to restart my attempt or I would need to return to Durango and figure out some way to restart the following day.

Upon reaching the trailhead, I was ecstatic to discover another 1.5L bottle in the bin. Such fortune! Days later, I would think back to this moment when Googling “strep throat symptoms.” Despite chemically treating the bottle, my dumpster diving would come back to haunt me.

While I was digging around in the trash, I could see headlights moving around on the far side of the trailhead. A lightly laden runner soon appeared and I learned that he was going for a self-supported FKT. He had no headlamp and was planning to make it a massive 73 miles to Molas Pass before nightfall where he would pick up the rest of his gear. I relayed the story of my inauspicious start. He set off.

A few minutes later at 6:03:28AM, I started down the trail for a second time. Darkness soon faded and I began climbing through trees, up to altitude. By starting in Durango, I had committed myself to a punishing 8k ft of climbing in the first 24 miles. I passed many southbound CT hikers clearly excited to conclude their thru hike.

Shortly after I cleared treeline, the forecast remnants of Hurricane Jova materialized and the rain began. The scenery improved markedly as I crested over Kennebec Pass. The thunder storms loomed ominously, but maintained distance as I continued onto the ridgeline that represented one of the most exposed sections of the entire trail. With the cool wet weather, the lack of available water was a minimal concern. I continued along the ridgeline into the night.

My lack of sleep the night before was punishing. Fortunately, I had made excellent time. At an early 1:53AM, I decided to stop short for the night having (according to my watch) covered 53 miles and nearly 12k feet of elevation gain. I initially struggled to find a spot free of tall wet grass. Eventually I found a clearing under a tree, tossed out my bivy, and immediately passed out.

Day 2 (8/27): (https://www.strava.com/activities/9800514651)

I was awoken by my alarm feeling relatively OK. That was not to last. I struggled over the first small 600 ft tall pass and then even more so over the following 1,600 ft tall pass. I failed to keep up with calorie intake. My breathing rate skyrocketed due to a combination of the 12k ft altitude and ketosis. Additionally, the growing back pain from my heavily laden frameless pack was debilitating. It was not confidence inspiring…. And I had a seemingly insurmountable 3,700 ft climb awaiting me later in the day.

As I trended down toward Molas Pass, rain returned, soaking everything. At Molas, I realized that my Inreach had been off, rather than hibernating, and restarted it. Now well behind schedule, I dropped down to the Animas River and crossed the Durango Silverton Railroad. The climb up into the Weminuche awaited. I paused to drink 400 calories of drink mix and eat many hundreds of additional calories. To my relief, the steady climb along Elk Creek went smoothly. I paused along the way to eat more. I reached treeline at sunset. From there, the climb steepened.

Just as I was about to pull my headlamp, I felt the sickening softness of a trekking pole inexplicably give way. Losing use of an exceptionally-helpful trekking pole on the 2nd day would slow me down. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that it had not snapped. Rather one of the metallic ferrules on the brand-new poles had come loose and slid within the section. Leki – you failed me. After a few tries and much wasted time, I figured out how to extract the ferrule and use Leukotape to secure it.

Reaching the Continental Divide came as a relief. There was some initial confusion where maps of the CO Trail diverged. I continued North across the alpine terrain before stopping past Stony Pass at 1:46AM. This time I struggled to fall asleep. I was surprised to see a lone mountain biker pass by at 4AM.

Day 3 (8/28): (https://www.strava.com/activities/9800568426)

I set off at dawn and soon passed a sheep herder on horseback with a retinue of dogs. Based on the relative success of the latter half of the prior day, I focused on taking the time to consume enough calories. The result was more stops, but less bonking. I passed many CT hikers heading the other direction as I repeatedly climbed and descended.

At Carson Saddle, I climbed up to the ridgeline, the beginning of a long dry stretch. Along the way, I was warned by a thru-hiker that the next water source was dry. That was concerning since I had not fully refilled water. Fortunately, the next hikers I encountered were able to confirm that there was in fact water and that I should keep an eye out for moose. I continued over the CT high point at 13,271 ft and along the exposed ridge. Fortunately, the weather had finally cleared and no storms were in the area. I eventually descended to the spring where I found water and no fewer than three moose blocking the trail. Travel was rapid as I followed the roads and paths across Jarosa Mesa and down to Spring Creek Pass.

Darkness fell as I ascended onto the vast open expanses of Snow Mesa. As I climbed over the divide the sleep deprivation began to slow me down. I struggled up a 12,200 ft pass and tossed out my bivy on the lumpy rock strewn saddle. It was far from comfortable, but I fell asleep immediately.

Day 4 (8/29): (https://www.strava.com/activities/9800586180)

After a cold high-altitude start, I headed toward San Luis Peak. My feet had finally begun to blister, so I stopped to retape my feet. I was excited to reach the San Luis Saddle. I had climbed San Luis Peak the very first week after moving to Colorado, so I was familiar with the trail from the saddle. And it marked the beginning of a long 3k ft descent - a welcome relief from the climbing and high altitudes that I had been at for days.

As I neared the San Luis Trailhead, my trekking pole repair failed. The warmer temperatures at lower altitude had softened the Leukotape adhesive. This time, the adhesive cemented the ferrule within the shaft. It took some time to figure out how to pry it out with the tiny swiss army knife I had with me. I cut the spring loaded cord so that it would not be under constant pressure and taped each section of the pole together.

From the trailhead, I had a nice gentle downhill along Cochetopa Creek. I then climbed up and over into the vast expansive open expanses around Cochetopa. It was easy travel along forest roads amidst herds of cattle. I appreciated change in scenery.

Darkness again brought struggles. Aspirations of making up significant mileage at night were again foiled as sleep deprivation slowed me. I took a desperate twenty minute nap in a spot on a pile of branches and continued on. Coming down the hill, I paused to take care of growing blister pain. What I found when I removed my socks was truly horrifying. The first question that crosses your mind should not be “where are my toes?” I had waited far too long and done significant damage that would hinder me the rest of the hike.

I made it across CO-114 with its bizarre alien saucer solar powered light and a short ways up the hill before going to sleep in a clearing next to the creek.

Day 5 (8/30): (https://www.strava.com/activities/9800592278)

At dawn, I ascended Sergents Mesa. Views up top were shrouded by trees and travel was slowed by plentiful ankle-rolling rocks. Progress felt slower and harder than was appropriate. A Far Out review that described this section as combining all of the worst aspects of the Appalachian Trail into 20 miles of the CO Trail provided some welcome amusement. There were many raspberries along the trail, but I could not afford to stop to pick them. Water was infrequent; fortunately temperatures were reasonable. I was excited to reach the algae filled cattle tank that served as the first water source in many miles and the start of the downhill.

On the way down, I encountered a camo-clad Texan walking his mountain bike back to his pickup. It was a somewhat confused conversation, but he did mention encountering someone supporting another FKT runner. The climb back up to altitude at Headwaters Hill was up an exceptionally steep and poorly constructed trail – notable only because the Colorado Trail had been of such consistently high quality. Fortunately, road/trail conditions were far better as darkness fell and I traversed to Marshall Pass.

A herd of cattle blocked the path by the piped spring. They had to be encouraged to move. The trail appeared to have been the subject of recent trailwork – unfortunately much damage was done by the cattle. The constructed trail to the piped spring was an impressive bit of trailwork. I filled up water in expectation of a long dry stretch.

By this point, I had made the decision to switch to Collegiate West. My rate of travel had not been as high as I had hoped – I my daily pace was consistently at least 5 miles short. Beating Jeff Garmire’s Collegiate East FKT seemed unlikely and would only be possible if I could run significant portions during the last several days. Fortunately, it appeared I had sufficient food to take the longer, higher, and harder western route. As a bonus, Collegiate West is also far more scenic.

At the Collegiate West/East junction, I turned left and followed the Monarch Crest Trail towards Monarch Pass. I hoped to make it across the road, but battling exhaustion, stopped short. I passed by a few marginal camp spots heading toward a spot marked on my map. That turned out to be a mistake. My bivy spot ended up being sloped and lumpy. Sleep came quickly nonetheless.

Day 6 (8/31): (https://www.strava.com/activities/9800611885)

I quickly reached Monarch Pass and headed up the trail. It followed the edge of the Monarch Ski Resort and then continued across the ridge. The wind began picking up and a steady stream of well-bundled oncoming thru-hikers appeared. It was relatively warm, so I remained in shorts and t-shirt, to the amusement of many of the other hikers. However, by the time a reached Bald Mountain, the wind had picked up to the point that I had to lean into it to remain standing. I donned a shell and gratefully began the descent to Hunt Lake.

From there, I had the long ascent up to Chalk Creek Pass. From the top, I dropped to Hancock Lake. I had previously worked the High Lonesome 100 aid station here, but had never seen it during daylight hours. The trail wrapped around oddly. Eventually I realized that it dropped onto an abandoned railroad grade. It was a very level section of trail and impressive bit of construction. From there I crossed a series of alpine passes before taking the most impressively constructed section of trail on the entire CT down to the valley. At the bottom, now in darkness, I paused at a stream to address my feet. My blister situation had deteriorated further.

I climbed up to begin an extended exposed alpine stretch. The nearly full moon provided a muted sense of the impressive scenery. My throat was sore – I was not yet sure why. The sections of crushed rock along the trail were exceptionally painful given the condition of my feet. I paused to take several 20 minute naps. I stopped for the night atop the Sanford Saddle. The weather was very clear, so an extremely high (12,759 ft) and exposed bivy site was not unreasonable.

Day 7 (9/1): (https://www.strava.com/activities/9800664374)

In the morning I headed towards Cottonwood Pass and admired the now-day-lit views. It was a steady descent down to Texas Creek where I would begin hiking trail that I had covered a few weeks earlier during a training trip. I took the newly constructed and inaugurated section of the CO Trail up towards Lake Ann Pass.

It hurt to swallow and my tonsils were now notably inflamed. It felt like strep throat, except that I could not imagine how I would have contracted it. Then I remembered the bottle I pulled from the trash at the starting trailhead a week prior.

I continued over Lake Ann Pass and began the long steady descent toward and along Clear Creek. It was nice to travel familiar trail. Rain began and the sun set as I headed toward Hope Pass. Fortunately the rain relented. The climb began uneventfully. By the time I was five hundred feet below the pass, I was suffering from incoherent auditory hallucinations. I took a desperate 20 minute nap in the middle of the trail. Rather than ending the hallucinations, the nap merely made them slightly more coherent. I continued up to the pass while listening to a pair of advertising media executives with New Jersey accents extolling the need for their representation atop of the pass. It made little sense then and it makes no sense now. At the pass, I ate an entire tube of Oreos, which finally put an end to the unwanted sound track. The combination of calorie and sleep deprivation seemed to have been the problem.

From the top of Hope Pass, it was a punishing three thousand foot descent at a 15% grade. I had flown up this climb a few weeks prior. But the combination of my exhaustion and the painful condition of my feet made the descent torturous. The sensation was of my feet being beaten with a meat tenderizer. I forced myself down to the bottom and called it a night.

Day 8 (9/2): (https://www.strava.com/activities/9800667737)

After the misery of the prior night, I was glad to start with ten flat miles as I navigated around Twin Lakes. From there, I climbed back into the mountains and began the relatively easy traverse north. Travel was smooth, but views were in short supply. By Mount Massive, I encountered a few day hikers who required navigational assistance. They were on the right path back to the trailhead, but were uncertain of it. At sunset, a grizzled man in a pickup asked if I had seen any elk (I had not) and warned of the “big bear” in the area. I told him I was continuing into the night.

Darkness fully fell as I continued past the trailhead into the Holy Cross Wilderness. To my surprise, I soon encountered the first people I had ever seen out at night. Two day hikers were heading back to the trailhead. They seemed unconcerned despite their inadequate lights. I again struggled with sleep deprivation and took a pair of 20 minute naps which proved restorative.

Hiking in a haze of sleep deprivation and darkness, I was surprised when light appeared like a mirage behind me. I would quickly learn this was Melinda, attempting a supported FKT, and Doug supporting her. We chatted briefly and continued on. We would leap frog several more times that night.

I stopped short of Tennessee Pass, not far from some of the 10th Mountain Division Huts, to get a few hours of sleep.

Day 9 (9/3): (https://www.strava.com/activities/9800677298)

I stopped at the bathroom at Tennessee Pass and then continued down the hill to Camp Hale. I had passed through here on my way to Jackal Hut in February, but had not seen the ruins or asbestos warnings from the old military encampment.

After pausing to down some drink mix, I headed up the hill to Kokomo Pass. Some bikers and a lone trail runner passed me along the way. Views from the top were expansive. I headed along Elk Ridge to Searle Pass.

Having finally eaten most of my food weight, I decided to try running down from the pass. The downhill grade proved less consistent than I had hoped. But regardless, I quickly bonked and concluded that running would not be feasible given my caloric deficiency.

As a passed below treeline, an exceptionally violent and loud thunderstorm moved in along with heavy rain. I was glad to be in a deep valley and not envious of the people I had passed who were likely caught out above treeline. I donned full rain gear and continued toward Copper Mountain. The rain ended as I approached the ski resort. Following the mountain biking trails across the ski runs felt odd. I took the official detour down through the village where some sort of festival was occurring and headed across the road.

As the sun set, I took the nicely graded trail up toward the ridgeline and the top of the Breckenridge ski resort. I saw oncoming lights above treeline and soon encountered a pair of hikers, one of whom had an inflatable lantern strapped to his chest. They seemed to be having some difficulty navigating down, but were cheerful. Once on top of the ridge, the quality of the trail deteriorated markedly. Route finding became challenging. I could see the lights of the cities and I70 below me.

I reached the trail down to Breckenridge and was disappointed to find that it was also of poor quality. I descended and soon ran into Melinda and Doug who were paused in a clump of bushes. A short while later I was backtracking while trying to figure out a section where there trail had been rerouted when Melinda and Doug caught up to me. We would leap frog several more times as we headed down to Breckenridge and I took several brief naps. The trail was rocky and, for me, very painful. Initially I had been hoping to make it across town, but I stopped a few miles short under a tree.

Day 10 and 11 (9/4-6): (https://www.strava.com/activities/9802065986)

This was it! I was going to try to make it to Denver in a single push. I headed down, across the road, and up through the subdivision before reentering the mountains. The mountain bikers were out in force on Labor Day.

Travel started out fairly smooth. I encountered Melinda and Doug again. I focused on eating enough to ward off bonking. The top of Georgia Pass particularly exciting as it represented the last notable climb of the trip. I cruised down toward Jefferson as darkness fell. I started listening to music to keep me going. I took a 20 min nap as I approached Kenosha Pass to ensure I remained sufficiently grounded in reality. Kenosha represented the beginning of the end in my mind, so it was an exciting waypoint to reach. From there I continued on toward the Lost Creek Wilderness. At one point, I found myself surrounded by eyes. Unsure what was real, I turned my headlamp to max power and discovered that I was in the middle of a herd of elk.

Near the Rock Creek trailhead, I paused for another 20 minute nap just as Melinda and Doug passed by. I continued on and the sun began to rise. An early morning oncoming hiker identified himself as Michael attempting a westbound unsupported FKT. We wished each other good luck and continued on. I caught up to Melinda and Doug, but then bonked hard during the final climb over to the North Fork of Lost Creek and was left lying on the ground to recover.

The final gentle climb over the hump led to a welcome 3,200 ft descent. I headed down past the trailhead at a rapid pace and onto the trails leading to Little Scraggy. While near Denver, these were new trails for me. I appreciated that they were smooth and easy going. I began leap frogging Melinda and Doug as darkness fell.

Little Scraggy was familiar territory. But the trail beyond and the South Platte River was not. The trail felt incoherent as it wound around Raleigh Peak and then began the steep plunge down to the South Platte. I struggled with the sleep deprivation and felt unfounded feelings of déjà vu. Eventually I decided I had to stop for a 10 minute nap. Melinda and Doug passed by just as I was lying down. I woke up, looked at my watch, and to my horror realized that three hours had passed by. I leapt up and flew down the rest of the trail to the river.

As I reached the river I could see headlamps climbing up the far side. At the river I paused to fill up on water a mix some liquid calories. I then began the final climb as the sun rose. I struggled to stay awake and maintain momentum during the climb. Reaching the top was exciting.

However I then realized I was still many miles from the top of Waterton Canyon, which was a bitter disappointment. I was absolutely fed up with the unexpectedly rocky trails. My low spirits were not lifted when I did in fact twist an ankle. Limping along, I finally reached Larrys Rest and the descent into Waterton.

I paused to eat every single remaining solid calorie I had along with Gu and drink mix. The entire trip I had been fixated on the possibility of running Waterton Canyon. I headed down the switchbacks mixing running and walking. At the start of the road, I ran into a women struggling up the hill who asked how far it was to the bighorn sheep. I said I did not know and continued. Several hundred feet later I passed her abandoned e-bike and the herd of big horns.

Once on gravel road, I was relieved to discover I could maintain steady 13 min/mile pace down the canyon. The mile posts passed painfully slowly and passing bikers gave me odd looks. Most of the way down the canyon I took a sip from my Befree filter and felt air bubbling through. I stopped to quickly check that the filter had in fact failed. Disgusted, I dumped my remaining water and continued onward.

Eventually the end of the canyon and the Colorado Trail sign came into view. I stopped my watch as I reached it and collapsed into the neatly mown grass. This was the end. I limped over to the water dispenser and then back under the shade of a tree. I was done.

Lessons Learned

1. Ultra-endurance activities are often described as eating competitions. But the degree to which that was true for my CO Trail journey far exceeded my expectations and prior experiences. I first burned through my reserves and felt calorie deficient less than halfway through the first day. After the first day, I could hike level ground and downhill without eating, but uphill required me to eat before and during. I would have to consume calories while going uphill or I would bonk nearly immediately. It was very transactional; the bigger the climb – the more calories were required.
2. I felt that the 50k calories I carried was the right amount and I felt that I carried the correct types of food. I never felt hungry. However, I was clearly calorie deficient nearly the entire hike. I think that is simply the price to be paid when doing a nearly-500 mile unsupported route. I do not know that it would be realistic to carry substantially more calories and I think that I would have struggled to eat much more than I did.
3. I initially hoped to run much of the last several days once I had eaten through most of my pack weight. In actuality, that was unrealistic. By the last few days, I was too calorie deficient to sustain running and was not carrying enough calories permit the higher burn rate of running. I do not believe that running is a viable strategy for a nearly-500 mile unsupported attempt.
4. In retrospect, I would have brought a lightweight framed pack. I brought a frameless pack knowing that I would struggle with the initial 30+ lb pack weight since I hoped to run the last several days. I ended up with significant back pain for the first four days and was barely able to run in the end. I would have been better served by a framed pack.
5. My mantra has long been “address issues when they arise”. During the fourth day, facing time pressure and the haze of sleep deprivation, I failed to stop and adequately take care of the blisters that were forming. Those would plague me the rest of the trip. I regret not stopping sooner.
6. I would have brought more pairs of socks. I recall seeing one account where someone else said the same thing. I brought two pairs. Four or five would have been worth the weight penalty given that crusty socks contribute to blister formation.
7. My shoes were sized for running and have gotten me through plenty of 100 mile races. Nonetheless, by the end, my feet had swollen to the point where sizing up an additional size may have been appropriate.
8. 20 minute naps were helpful when I was so tired that it was slowing me down.
9. I initially aimed to sleep 4 hours per night. I then reduced that to 2 hours before doing the section from Breckenridge continuously with only short naps. I am not sure whether sleeping 2 hours instead of 4 hours actually increased my daily pace. I may have been better off sleeping more and trying to move more expeditiously. But I cannot be sure.
10.  My average moving pace varied little day to day. The biggest factor in how much ground I covered was how much time I spent stopped. Time management and staying in constant motion are the keys to covering ground when you are limited to walking speeds.