Climbing Humphreys
Because we’re always looking for our next big athletic
adventure, we’ve been (very) tentatively eyeing the Trans-Rockies Run, a multi-stage trail race that runs each
August in Colorado. Given the extreme demands
of the course, particularly the climbs that will occur at or over the 10,000
foot mark, we wanted to test our limits in a high-altitude setting closer to
home, before we forked over the more than decent chunk of change associated
with the race. Thus, the first
weekend of October found us traveling north to Flagstaff, with
the intent on summiting Humphreys Peak, the highest mountain in Arizona.
Starting the hike at
the trailhead
The most popular trail to the peak starts at the base of the
Arizona Snowbowl resort, which features great skiing, snowboarding, and other
wintry activities when it is cold enough.
The elevation of Flagstaff itself is around 7,000 feet (compared to
1,300 or so around our house in northwest Phoenix), Snowbowl is around 8,000,
and the peak is 12,633. Since the trail
is 4.6 miles one way*, that means it climbs about 1,000 feet per mile, so it’s
pretty darn steep. Thankfully, the
majority of the trail is well marked and decently well-traveled, and it’s hard
to be too lost for too long.
Into the trees!
From what we’ve heard, June through October is the best time
to hike to the summit,** and the weather was absolutely gorgeous for our
trip. The lows in the morning were in
the 40s and the highest high hit around 65 or so, which was perfect; although
we were bundled up when we started our climb, we quickly shed layers as we
generated body heat clamoring up the mountain.
Chris with a teeny,
tiny Christmas tree!
The first 3 miles of the trail runs through an aspen forest,
and the scenery is lovely; we could hear the birds chirping, a few seriously
angry squirrels, and the wind blowing through the trees. We stopped to rest a few times, have snacks,
and take some pictures.
Signing in, so they can find us later if need be.
Eventually, you continue to hike and come out through the
top of the tree line around 11,400 feet.
It’s really interesting when this happens; you can see the trees fade
out around you, and you emerge onto the saddle of the mountain. The landscape turns from roots and dirt to
volcanic, shale-looking rocks and other scraggly plants. On this hike, you can even look across the
mountain to a nearby ski lift, located below your elevation; had the ski lift
been running, we may have abandoned our hike down the mountain and taken it
instead.
Getting close to the
tree line
After the saddle, the trail – which was gradually climbing
through the forest – became even steeper.
In about .8 of a mile, you climb up the final 1,000 feet, and there were
several sections where Chris had to stop and give me a hand to use to pull
myself up.*** However, nothing is steep
enough to need trail ropes or anything of that nature (unlike Picacho Peak in
southern AZ).
Scramble time!
There are 2-3 false summits, where you feel you’ve reached
the top, but you look and the trail continues on.
This is not the summit
you’re looking for.
It’s over there.
We had to stop and rest quite a few times during this
section of the trail, but thankfully, almost everyone was doing the same. We ended up having delightful conversations
with quite a few other hikers, since we were essentially leap-frogging them
(and they, us) up the trail.****
Eventually, we made it up to the top and took some time to rest,
admiring the stunning views and snacking.
We made it!
We chilled out on the top for 20 minutes or so, then headed
back down. If the climbing was tiring,
the hike down – at least until we hit the trees – was tense. Since the rock was pretty loose in this area,
we skidded down several patches, thankfully never really falling or injuring
ourselves, although we were plenty sore the next day from the whole
adventure. We made it back to the car in
a total of 6 hours, 20 minutes (which included the several times we stopped for
breaks - I kept my watch running the entire time), tired, hungry, and ready for
a shower.
Overall, we really enjoyed the hike. We could feel the effects of the altitude in
the small amount of effort it took to send our heart rates soaring on the climb
up; however, we’d been trying out a new supplement called Acli-Mate, which was supposed to help combat altitude
sickness, and it seemed to work out well.
Chris climbed Humphreys a few years back with his friend Justin and had
to sit for awhile at the tree line, as things got “all swimmy,”***** and
neither of us had a problem like this on this excursion. If we do the hike again, I’ll find a way to
bring more fluid with me; I had my 2 liter Camelbak pouch filled with water,
and I ended up draining it just after we left the summit and started back down. Chris had a water pouch of the same capacity
and with both of us being cautious about intake, we still ended up emptying his
with 2 miles of hiking left to go. At
altitude, you can easily end up dehydrated (your body doesn’t want to drink,
and this can compound the issue), so it’s important to keep your fluid intake
up; maybe next time, I’ll take a few extra bottles of fluid and stuff them in
the side pockets of the Camelbak. Of
course, if we’re racing at this altitude, we’ll have aid stations with extra
fluid all stocked up and ready for us.
Enjoying my stout on
the patio of Beaver Street Brewery
Later!
Amy
* According to my
Garmin. Chris’ Garmin had closer to 4.8
miles one way, which had him outdoing me by about .3 miles by the end of the
hike. I have no idea where he found the
extra 1/3 of a mile, but apparently, he did.
Maybe it’s the cumulative difference in the length of our strides. Picture a Great Dane hiking with a French
Bulldog.
** Because you are pushing
through actual legitimate snow for the rest of the year. Yes, in Arizona.
*** Short little legs,
be damned!
**** Our most notable
one involved a man and his daughter. She
was probably 11 or 12 and he was in his early 40s. He said they were from Casa Grande, and I
mentioned we used to live there, in the neighborhood behind the Sonic. He went, “oh!
The Beazer Homes development!” We
concurred, and he volunteered that he cleaned carpets for a living, so he was
intimately familiar with all of the neighborhoods in the area. Good to know that he wasn’t just casing every
joint in town.
We also ran into a
lovely group of folks in their 60s/70s who were all hiking up the trail with
poles, which they seemed to do rather regularly. Given what they were discussing and their
friendly demeanor, we ascertained they were professors at Northern Arizona
University, which is based in Flagstaff.
I’m sure had we taken a picture with them, several of my buddies from AZ
would have been able to pick a few of them out.
***** His words.
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