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


Resting at the saddle


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.

Don’t worry, though – after we cleaned up, we found a great way to rehydrate:


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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