2008 Pikes Peak Ascent - Report
Two buddies and I arrived in Manitou Springs, Colorado on a rainy cold August Friday afternoon, and the Peak was nowhere in sight – totally socked in. We cruised to the trailhead and hiked a little ways up the Barr Trail, so my friends could get a feel for the grade, which is substantial. Having never run at altitude before, they asked for my advice on how to approach things over a mile up. All I could say was “hydrate or die”.

Saturday morning I was in “waive 1” for the start, which meant I started 30 minutes before my friends in “waive 2”. It was pouring rain at the start, but not too cold – I had my trusty Rock/Creek Patagonia jersey, a hooded rain jacket, gloves, Patagonia shorts, a CamelBak Octane 14 with some dry gear for the summit, Smartwool socks and my LaSportiva Fireblades with their grippy soles for the slog to 14,000 feet. Everything was as expected for the first hour or so – couple miles of pavement, then steep switchbacks to the top of Mount Manitou. It was raining on and off, heavy when it was on. I kept to my original strategy of power hiking the steeps – it works like a charm, and those who do it generally pass or drop people trying to run, except for those truly gifted human/gazelle hybrids: There is just not enough O2 to charge up the whole thing.

At 11,000 feet or so, the temperature took a BIG dive. I blazed right past an aid station, not wanting to ice up, and as I turned a corner on a switchback just before the treeline, I was confronted by a big Search and Rescue fella in full winter gear: He was warning us that above the trees the temperature was well below freezing, it was “pretty windy” and snowing. I checked my clothes and realized I was already soaked through from the rain and sweat, so I pulled my dry gear out of my pack and changed shirts - a dry Patagonia capilene longsleeve and a winter beanie under the hood. Best decision I ever made.

Above the trees the wind was howling, the snow was flying horizontally and felt like buckshot, and the single track trail was entirely iced over: That wet snow, compacted by runners, was like running on a 12 inch wide balance beam made of ice, with sharp rocks and drop offs on either side. I still felt strong, but the footing was just way to treacherous to really move quickly. Someplace on the middle of the exposed face of Pikes Peak, well entrenched INSIDE the clouds at about 13,000 feet, the world suddenly exploded: A blinding white flash and galactic BOOM. I hit the deck (seriously – I actually went belly down) and took a minute to pop my eyeballs back into their sockets. Man, this is actually dangerous. Going back was no safer than pushing up, so I just stuck to some advice I once got that works in all kinds of situations: Stay low and keep moving. Several “danger close” strikes later, and I hit the summit – still under 4 hours, but not the sub 3:30 I was originally hoping for. Honestly, I was just happy to be alive, but the sub 4 in those conditions was pretty satisfying. I went immediately into the warming hut, where the medical cots soon began to fill up with runners at varying stages of hypothermia. I never did see my buds at the top because an hour after I went past the Search and Rescue guy, they closed the mountain above the treeline, and turned about two-thirds of the field back around. They had to run, or walk, all the way back down, which means they nearly did the full marathon distance – cruel. Over all it was quite the adventure, but I still prefer it without the random bolts of lightning…..

Matt Karzen