Hardrock 100 Race Report July 2010

Hardrock 100 Race Report 2010.

Where to begin…This had been on the radar for the past 3 yrs but after repeatedly missing out on the lottery I just assumed I would be waiting until next year again. When Whippet texted me on the morning of the draw to inform me I was an automatic entrant my world went into a spin. Shit! I finally get in but am now way unprepared. 5 months until race day, I need to start hatching a plan on how to get there. A work conference in Florida a week and a half out was handy so flights were taken care of. I now needed to get a training plan together.
Flash forward 5 months and I am toeing the start line after the most intensive training build up to a race I have ever completed. Regular 100 mile weeks with plenty of vertical in the Blue Mountains at weekends had me in the best shape of my life and ready to roll. I had 8 days to acclimatize and after a few days of course marking was sure I was fairly well adapted to the altitude. The buzz at the start line was palpable. I shook hands with Karl Meltzer and wished him well. Looking at the lean mean and superbly fit athletes around me, all of whom are regarded as ‘post graduate’ athletes, was inspiring. I have watched the start of this race for years on YouTube living vicariously through my good friend Andy who is now a regular amongst the starters.
The Hardrock stood there in front of me, the painted mountain goat almost mocking me. You sure you are ready for this monster? You bet - bring it. See you tomorrow before sunset…that was the goal. This would give me nearly 39hrs to complete the famed CW loop taking in the townships of Silverton – Telluride – Ouray and the ghost town of Sherman.
10 second countdown and we are off. My heart was pumping so fast from the mixture of altitude and adrenaline. I pump my fist in the air as I charge down the streets of Silverton, a massive sense of relief washed over me as we finally get this thing happening.


Showtime!

Silverton – Kamm Traverse (11.5 miles) 3hrs 15mins

We climb the short hill out of town towards the Miner’s Shrine. Karl is off at the front but manages to take a turn too early on the way out of town much to the derision of those around him. Guess he’s human after all and nerves were at play.
I looked back at the line of runners streaming out of town up the first climb in the predawn light, it was magical. The atmosphere was so intense. We made our way around onto the jeep road and then across to Nute’s Chute, a narrow bench cut into the loose scree falling off the hillside. Topped out and then some nice single track down to the road and Mineral Creek crossing. There were plenty of shouts of support from the spectators who had gathered there. Water was cold but only knee deep.


Crossing Mineral Creek

Bear Creek trail on the other side involves a steady climb skirting around the side of the mountain. There were beautiful wildflowers in abundance along the trail. I struck up some conversation with a few runners around me who recognised the Australian flag tattoos on my legs. Most were amazed when I explained I had only arrived 8 days prior and straight from sea level! Up ahead was Diane Van Deren who graced our shores in May running the North Face 100 in the Blue Mountains. She is a Hardrock veteran and moves quite well tapping away on her trekking poles. Being a Colorado local certainly helps. I moved my way up to her and we chatted a while. Her goal was simple – a finish. Most runners simply target a finish on this course. It’s just so brutal, with a high attrition rate.
The single track along the traverse made for conga line running but the field was starting to spread as runners found their rhythm.


Bear Creek Trail on route to Kamm Traverse

My plan was to be conservative for the first day and then try to bring it home hard in the last 50, easier said than done though. As we climbed to Putnam Line Ridge at over 12,000ft my heart rate went through the roof. There is no such thing as taking it easy on this course. I would have to ease right off on the early climbs and then hammer the downhills to maintain my position. This plan was put into place out of necessity early on. I would gamble on smashing the quads but was pretty confident the thrashing I had subjected them to in the preceding months training might hold me in good stead. We’d see…
After a few more kms of undulating and sometimes very boggy trail we hit the first aid station at Kamm Traverse. A few of the volunteers pointed me in the right direction out as I called out my name. No stopping, in and out, I had plenty of water and food on board.

Kamm Traverse – Chapman Gulch (7.4 miles, 18.9 miles acc) 2hrs 31mins

The trail skirts off the road to the left out of the AS and then follows another single track that traverses the side of yet another mountain. The trail is quite good but you still need to be alert with steep drop offs to the valley below. I was amazed at the amount of runners wearing InoV8s and NB100s on this course. Insane I thought, with the amount of sharp stones and shale to be found above the tree line. I was by myself now and came to a track diversion. I wasn’t quite sure but saw a couple of what I thought were runners heading off to the left. I followed but soon realised there were no more markers. I quickly caught up to the bloke in front and realised they were day hikers. They informed me I had taken the wrong turn. Damn, I quickly ran back to the intersection and realised my mistake, a couple more runners had subsequently followed me too! No worries, lost 5 mins max.


Typical alpine terrain on route to Chapman

After a long steady climb where I had my head down sucking in the big ones, I looked up momentarily and realised we were approaching one of the most picturesque sections of the entire Hardrock course, the spectacular Island Lake. I have seen this captured in photos for years now and to be finally here experiencing it for real was outstanding. Despite my aerobic struggle I stopped briefly to absorb the moment. Not for long though, onward and upward.


Island Lake

The trail continues traversing the steep scree slopes before hitting the foot of the extremely steep last pitch to the top of the pass. I watched as runners ahead scrambled on hands and feet for traction up this wall. I was enjoying it all the same though, in a sadistic sort of way. At one stage I slid backwards causing a mini landslide, too much fun! Upon cresting, the trail flattens momentarily. There is a cairn and plaque memorial to Joel Zucker a 3 time finisher who died tragically shortly after finishing. A very popular runner, I paused to place the obligatory rock on his cairn. I followed another runner a short while past the memorial and then he motioned to the left to a precipice falling away dramatically. Having not seen this part of the course during the marking days I realised this was Grant Swamp Pass at 12,920ft, and this was the only way down and in fact the other side of the pass but still asked ‘do we have to go down there?’ Man this was a rush, the descent was insane at what must be close to 50 degrees. I decided the only way was to go for it and let gravity do its thing.




Descending Grants Swamp Pass

There were several runners ahead gingerly side stepping their way down digging their heels into the loose scree for footholds. I literally fell down, the earth moving beneath me with each footfall, what a hoot! Scott Brockmeier was in front of me, setting a cracking pace. We had a blast running together, reaching the flatter sections below. From here it is a sometimes treacherous long descent to Chapman Gulch aid station. I pulled away from Liz and Scott enjoying the freefall back down beneath the tree line. It started to rain momentarily but soon cleared, typical alpine weather. By the time I reached Chapman it was glorious sunshine. I was enjoying the extra oxygen afforded by the lower altitude. Upon arrival I got lei’ed by a rather pretty young girl, an Hawaiian theme for this aid station. How good was this? My drop bag was handed to me (the first drop station). I handed my pack to a volunteer to refill and quickly set about replenishing my supplies and downing my first can of creamed rice for the day. I broke my rule of ‘no chair’ and enjoyed a brief respite before getting up and at it again.

Chapman to Telluride (8.9 miles, 27.8 miles acc) 3hrs 7mins

I had heard many stories about the next climb up to Oscar’s Pass from several runners in the preceding days. Most agreed it was probably one of the top 3 toughest climbs on the course. Normally exposed to the midday sun we were lucky enough to at least have some cloud cover as we started out. I ran the first section along a jeep road to the turn off for the climb proper. You can see the massive switchbacks from Grant Swamp on the other side of the valley. Pretty daunting stuff, but I kept telling myself ‘bite size chunks is what it’s all about’. After what seems like an eternity the trail leaves the tree line behind and degenerates into classic Hardrock shale and rocky trail. The higher I got the more the life was been sucked out of me. I chatted occasionally with runners, quite a few passing me as I leaned on my poles trying to lower my HR. I could see Liz Bauer ahead again, she was climbing really well. How I yearned for more acclimatisation. I would be motoring up this climb at lower elevations. Finally I topped out at 13,250ft, and looked for the trail off the summit.


The final pitch to Oscars Pass with Ophir Pass Rd (we don’t take) in the background

I re-passed Scot and Liz as they nimbly made their way down the rocky trail on the other side of the pass. I needed to make up for ‘lost’ time on the ascent and once assured there were no trail diversions ahead I took off on my own. A series of switchbacks on a sharp drop all on single track, I loved it. The lower I descended the better I felt. Once onto the Telluride Bear Creek trail it started to pour down. This only added to the majesty of the surrounds. The trail snakes its way ever downward alongside a roaring creek. Old disused mining sites and equipment scattered about off the trail, a bygone era captured in time.
I stopped to put my jacket on, nobody in front or behind me, well at least in view that is. I was alone with the trail momentarily. I continued to make good progress until the trail opened up again and met an old road down into Telluride proper. I stopped to get my bearings after realising I had not seen a marker for a while. Luckily another runner (and two time finisher) Rob arrived assuring me I was on the correct trail. We ran together into town, a volunteer taking our numbers before we reached the aid station. Upon arrival, Bob Boeder (one time HR finisher and book author) had my drop ready. Andy and I had met him the night before at the pasta dinner and he mentioned he would help out at various locations if he could. I repacked my jacket (sun was out again), sat down and ate more rice. (I had carried 10cans of the stuff in my luggage from Australia just for the race, not available in the US). It was bustling at Telluride, one of the main checkpoints with plenty of crew support.


Trail to Telluride

Telluride to Kroger’s Canteen (Virginius Pass, 5 miles, 32.8 miles acc) 2hrs 33 mins

I spent 6 minutes at Telluride, trying to keep my down time to a minimum, not easy when you don’t have any crew and are relying on drop bags. Bob was helpful though and I was soon walking the streets of Telluride munching away on some much needed sustenance.
A couple of locals at the edge of town asked me about the race. They couldn’t believe we were covering 100 miles through those mountains. Almost immediately the trail climbs once more up a series of switchbacks with occasional views back down over the beautiful township of Telluride.


Looking back at Telluride

I watched as runners plodded out of the aid station into the streets and back onto the trail. I worked hard again up this climb knowing that we would top out at the infamous Virginius Pass at 13,100ft which meant a good 4350ft climb over just 5 miles. I was familiar with the other side of the pass having covered it whilst course marking the week before, but this side was equally as tough. The trail crosses a rather pretty alpine meadow before pitching up steeply rising above the tree line once more. I could see Scott up in the distance again, we were yo-yoing all day. The rugged outline of the pass soon came into view and what a sight. I recognised the pass itself from the trail marking day, a conga line of runners ahead scrambling their way ever upwards.


Trail leading up to Virginius Pass



The wind increased as we approached the ridiculously steep final pitch. I rounded a bend and the tarp of the packed in ‘Kroger’s Canteen’ aid station came into view. I sat down to dig some food out of my pack. A few more runners arrived. The volunteers here are just incredible, hauling all food and equipment in on their backs. No time to waste, I got up and made for the gnarly descent. Total time at Virginius, 2 minutes.


Kroger’s Canteen at Virginius Pass (13,100ft)

Kroger’s Canteen to Governor Basin (3.2 miles, 36 miles acc) 41 mins

I was back in familiar territory now, albeit with less snow than a week ago. Gnarly as it is I had looked forward to this section. I skirted around the first snow field down the scree bank but soon hopped on board the next one in a sitting glissade. A short one but way faster than trying it on foot.


The first pitch down the other side of Virginius Pass

I pulled up alongside Scott, he was making it look way too easy on this insanely steep descent. I reached the bottom after one more short glissade. From here the views are majestic across the wide expansive basin to distant peaks and beyond including the impressive 14’er Sneffels, a truly marvellous piece of country. I was now on a jeep road which would take me all the way down to Governor Basin aid station, so I packed the poles away and ran hard passing several runners along the way. 3 mins at Governor.


Mountaintop mine on the jeep road to Governor Aid Station

Governor Basin to Ouray (7.9 miles, 43.9 miles acc) 1hr 26 mins

I looked forward to the next part, a long descending jeep road that would take me all the way into Ouray, the lowest point of the entire course at 7792ft. (2375m and still higher than Kosciusko). My legs felt great and I knew my quads would be up for the hammering I was about to subject them to for the next hour or so. I caught and passed several runners including Kirk Apt (veteran of 16 finishes, the most).What a legend. It was so cool to be running and mingling with these guys, very humbling indeed. The road is incredible, literally blasted out from the side of the mountain with steep drop offs to the roaring Bear Creek below. I knew to look out for a marker on the left hand side of the road from the short recce I did with Andy a few days earlier. This would lead me onto the Perimeter Trail (a walking track around the entire town). My quads took quite the pounding as I joined the trail for town. I felt great though as the oxygen levels rose, with the lower elevation. It is truly amazing how quickly the benefits can be felt. I followed the pretty perimeter across a bridge and through the Box Canyon tunnel. It was dark inside and I took care not to scone myself as I ducked. The trail then drops out onto the streets of Ouray skirting a caravan park before arriving at the aid station. The aid station is set up in a park at the northern end of town and is a major crew access point. I arrived here well before dark and was pleased to be able to afford of the remaining daylight on the next section out of Ouray. I replenished my supplies and grabbed my night gear. A lot of runners were meeting their pacers here, the excitement palpable. As I left Scott arrived, along with a few others I had been yo-yoing with. 9 mins at Ouray.


Camp Bird Road to Ouray

Ouray to Engineers Pass (7.6 miles, 51.5 miles acc) 3hrs27min

I walked out of town as I did earlier at Telluride again munching away on some much needed food. Just ahead Liz and her pacer Nick were doing the same thing. It’s a good time to get some food in as the climbing starts again in earnest once you’ve reached the outskirts of town. The trail winds its way forever back out to the 550 highway crossing. It undulates on a nice single track but it seemed to take forever to reach the familiar landmark that was the highway crossing. I had also covered this next section the week before and so knew there was a big climb ahead. In fact the biggest climb of the entire course starting at 7792ft and topping out at 12190ft at Engineers Pass.


Looking back at Ouray from Bear Creek Trail

Once across the highway, there are several short sharp switchbacks on shale littered trails before cutting its way further up Bear Creek Canyon. It was just on dusk as I reached one of the most spectacular parts of the course. A trail that once again had been blown out of the side of the mountain with large rocky overhangs and at various sections only a couple of feet wide. Truly incredible trail, with a huge drop off down to Bear Creek below, one slip here and you are dead, no question about it.




Daytime shots of the Bear Creek trail (top far left of image)

I was feeling good and recalled the trail marking day together with Andy. I was literally blown away by this section of the course and now on race day with the darkness descending upon me I felt invigorated - what a privilege to be here!
I soon fell in behind a runner and his female pacer who was having a hard time navigating in the dark. I couldn’t pass as there simply was nowhere to pass, so narrow was the trail. She repeatedly stopped to gingerly pass the more precarious sections of the trail only to slow her runner down. A strange choice for pacer I thought?
Eventually I found a place to pass and took off up the trail. It was getting colder now and I considered putting my jacket on, but held off. I figured this would encourage me to move more quickly. I passed Yellow Jacket mine and knew I wasn’t too far away from Engineers aid station. I ran when I could and hiked hard up the steeper hills. I could see the light from the fire that was burning there signalling the approaching aid station.
I sat down, had my pack refilled and dug out a can of creamed rice, washed down with some sportsdrink. I spent 8 minutes here. As I did I looked around me, there were several runners huddled under blankets sat at the very welcoming fire, I feared their runs might be over. I quickly packed up and left for the pass. 8 mins at Engineers and 51.5 miles done.

Engineers Pass to Grouse Gulch (6.9 miles, 58.4 miles acc) 2hrs 14mins

Not long after leaving the aid station up the first rise, a light appears in the distance. This is the small flashing LED light that Charlie puts up the top of the pass. It can be seen for miles. Ahead across the basin a line of flickering headlamp lights could be seen, showing the way up to the pass. The trail markers were plentiful, reflecting in the beam of my headlamp. I made good progress here and looked forward to finally summiting. I passed a few runners up the final steep pitch, my poles aiding my ascent. At the top (12,190ft) I stopped momentarily to look back over the basin, lights twinkling away in the darkness below, a trail of tired runners, desperately scrambling their way across the basin and up to the pass. What a sight.
I was now in unfamiliar territory once again having turned around and retraced my footsteps at this point during the course marking day with Andy. He warned me of an intersection a few kms down the road to Grouse, stay left was the warning, or else you end up heading back to Ouray. I took off down the jeep road, the switching of my leg muscle groups immediately noticeable. They had already been subjected to the constant pummelling both up and down and were starting to feel the affects. I soon came to an intersection and noticed a couple of runners had veered off to the right. I felt sure this was where several runners stuffed up a couple of years ago and so called out to the guys ahead. I ran up to them as they turned and came toward me. I explained I felt they were on the wrong road, and then noticed one of them was none other than Kirk Apt, 16 time Hardrock finisher (who must have passed me again earlier).
Here I was a HR virgin telling the veteran he was on the wrong trail. Hmm. I was assured we were indeed on the right road and that the controversial intersection was further down the road. And so after chatting for a bit I took off with tail between the legs .
The jeep road drops constantly almost all the whole way to the aid station at Grouse Gulch. I could see the light from the tent set up for miles. I was amazed at the amount of runners walking this very runnable road! I passed several more before hitting the aid station at last. I had organised a pacer from Grouse to help with trail navigation over the next tricky section to Sherman. Tom was very familiar with the whole HR course but ironically has never gotten into the race. He has applied for the last 5 years with no luck. This only made me feel even more privileged to be there. I sat down and quickly replenished my supplies. He was ready to roll so I quickly ate some soup before leaving. There is a small out and back section and I wanted to get back out onto the trailhead going up the mountain before anyone else came in. Why? I have no idea, I wasn’t exactly racing anyone, but it was good to set targets for yourself I thought.
Total time at Grouse 8 mins.

Grouse Gulch to Sherman (13.4 miles, 71.8miles acc) 5hrs 41mins

As we started out the climb I quickly settled into a rhythm behind Tom. He would just slog away and I would follow, leaning on my poles. Conversation was infrequent as I started to struggle. I was being pulled along at a pace that was a tad faster than I wanted but I needed to keep pushing myself. I love running at night and now was the time, the wee hours, to press on and try to reel in a few more runners. There wasn’t much to see as it was pitch black, a real shame as we were now traversing the American Basin on route to Handies Peak and the highest point on the course. I was in autopilot mode, shuffling away, trying to remember to feed myself periodically. I thought about home and those who might be following my progress online. I wanted to make this the best effort I could, knowing my loved ones and friends were watching was a huge motivator. I slipped and slid down the other side of the basin and then began the final ascent up the many long switchbacks to Handies.


Climbing up Handies

And then there it was almost bang on dawn I could see the peak ahead. Tom pointed it out and figured we’d be on top just on daylight. How cool, I was almost happier getting there during the early morning light than earlier in the dark. I wanted that view. And so we reached the summit, a craggy, stone littered windy peak. The view was magnificent. 360 degrees across the Suan Juans. Tom picked out the various other 14ers in the distance. He knew this country very well and was very informative the whole time we ran together. I had mulled over whether to use a pacer or not but right now was thankful I did, his knowledge of the area augmented the whole experience. We didn’t linger for too long as the wind picked up and it was cold at 14,048ft. The trail off the mountain was reasonably good and after negotiating the initial scraggy gravel fest down the first drop off we were soon on good single track hoofing along. I felt stronger as we reached the valley below, and could finally breathe and move along fairly aerobically.


Descent off Handies

The trail was pretty through the valley and before long we popped out on the jeep road that would lead us down into the Sherman aid station. I stopped at the conveniently located toilet there. It was now early morning and we were once again bathed in sun. There were 3 miles left to the aid station and I started to struggle again, with a massive energy low. I reluctantly ate some lollies for a sugar hit and with a mix of running and power hiking eventually arrived at the aid station.
Sherman, formerly a mining town, is now a ghost town nestled in a pretty valley. It was like an oasis for the weary runner. This was a major aid station with a huge setup. There were breakfast burritos, pancakes, egg sandwiches plus a host of other food options available. Unfortunately I was feeling rather poorly, the accumulation of some hard night running catching up. I tried a breakfast burrito but it was way too dry. So I washed a few boiled spuds down with a coffee instead. Tom was phaffing about with his pack as I got up to leave. I waited while he got some food in. Total time at Sherman 12 mins.


Sherman Aid Station

Sherman to Pole Creek (9.1 mile, 80.9 mile acc) 3hrs 32 mins

I shuffled out of Sherman waiting for the food to kick in and re-energise my morning. It did eventually and we made decent progress through the lush valley before it opened up again on the rise to Cataract Pole Divide Pass at 12,230ft. There were creeks to cross numerous times and a boggy marsh to cover before we reached the pretty Cataract Falls. It was so lush here, such a diverse landscape. The trail was difficult to follow with infrequent trail markers and again I was thankful to have a pacer who knew the course so well. We topped out on the pass and continued across the barren landscape of the Continental Divide. You could see for miles.


The Continental Divide

There were a few runners ahead one of which was Beth. I finally reeled her in after last seeing her leave Ouray. She was suffering from altitude sickness and had slowed to a shuffle. We then passed an elk near a lake, it looked like it was dying, all beaten up, it didn’t flinch as we passed by.
It was a long slog before we finally saw Pole Creek aid station in the distance. Another packed in aid station, the volunteers would hike for miles to reach this spot perched high up on a windy exposed shelf. I stopped briefly and chatted with the volunteers as the tarp flapped away in the wind. I tried some more coffee and another tin of creamed rice.
I wanted to sit down but as the whole aid station is carried in, there were no chairs. Just as well…2 mins at Pole Creek.


Pole Creek Aid Station

Pole Creek to Maggie’s Gulch (4.3 mile, 85.2 mile acc) 1hr 45 min

My memory is a little vague for the next section except to say that it is on a wide open high (and sometimes boggy) plateau with plenty of creeks to cross. My poles were a great asset here as I tried to keep my feet as dry as I could. Tom would skip through the creeks; I was a bit over wet feet and as the day warmed up I tried my best to keep them dry. Tom was telling me stories of his hiking exploits along the Continental Divide; I wasn’t taking much in though, preferring to concentrate on simply putting one foot in front of the other and getting to the next aid station. The trail then climbed steeply to the next pass at Maggie Pole Creek (12,530ft, the 10th of 13 major climbs). I was now working very hard on each climb. The elevation was constantly over 11,000ft and after a few hours of effort it takes its toll. I laboured up to the pass and looked forward to getting this section over with. I rolled down the other side trying to increase my cadence in an effort to pick up the pace. Eventually the aid station came into view way off down the side of the mountain, a dot in the distance. The trail markers had us turn sharply off the side down a severe tussocky slope to the aid station at Maggie Gulch. When we arrived I noticed Blake Wood and his daughter (pacer) were about to leave. We chatted briefly before they left. I ate more creamed rice (my last can) and had some cake. Time at Maggies 5mins.

Maggies to Cunningham Gulch (6.1mile, 91.3 mile acc) 2hrs 47 mins

As we left the aid station, I could still see Blake climbing off in the distance. The trail goes straight up a mother of a climb almost immediately after leaving the checkpoint. Each climb was getting tougher than the last - man there is just no ‘easy’ on this course.
I quickly got back into my routine of hard hiking for a few minutes followed by a brief respite of hunched over leaning on my poles trying to lower my heart rate and catch my breath. Each few hundred meters of climbing literally left me feeling like I had run a hard 5km race. Tom was happily sauntering off away in the distance, at times he was out of sight. I didn’t mind. I was confident I could get there on my own anyhow. After a brief skirt along a false peak the trail steepened once more before cresting at Buffalo Boy pass (13,214) the second highest pass on the course.


Buffalo Boy Mine

Once over the other side I could run again and soon caught up to Blake and his daughter taking photos of the trail. Anyone who knows Blake Wood will tell you about the wonderful images he has captured over the past 15 yrs of running Hardrock; he really does have a great eye for natural beauty. We ran along together and then the heavens opened up. It got really cold and then started to hail. We huddled alongside a giant rock for cover as we were being pummelled by this freak storm. I donned my jacket and gloves and immediately felt better. Ever onward we crossed a brief saddle before the second last climb of the course came into view. Green Mountain (12,980ft) was deceptively long and it seemed to take an eternity to get over it. Blake re-passed me on the saddle and took off; his daughter was negotiating the downhills with her hands in her pockets!!


With my pacer on Green Mountain (Photo courtesy of Blake Wood)

We soon started the descent proper to Cunningham and what a hoot that was. A wicked single track cut out into the side of the mountain that switchbacked forever and reminded me of the long downhill to Deadwood canyon at Western States. The road could be seen from way up high along with the dotted crew cars and aid station in the distance. I fried my quads smashing my way ever downwards re-passing Blake in the process and catching up to Tom as we hit the bitumen leading into the CP. He informed me that he was done for the day as he had an appointment later that afternoon. I thanked him for his company and guidance and made for the nearest chair. Bob Boeder appeared again and helped with replenishing my pack for the final leg. He was impressed with my pace and mentioned finishing before dark if I got a move on. I fully intended on finishing before nightfall and didn’t need much coaxing to get going again. But not before a good feed and drink, the last section was 9.2miles and included a killer climb. Time at Cunningham 9 mins.


Descending into Cunningham Gulch (Aid station in distance, Blake’s pacer and daughter in the foreground)

Cunningham to Silverton (9.2 miles, 100.5miles acc) 3hrs 45 mins

Bob walked with me out of the aid station and pointed the way toward the beginning of the last climb. Dive’s Little Giant (13,00ft) was all that stood between me and relatively good running back into Silverton. I started out strongly crossing Cunningham Creek and soon was on the climb proper…but that didn’t last too long as the increased elevation zapped whatever energy I had left out of me. Another runner soon caught up to me and passed with ease. This was frustrating as I was holding my position pretty well in these latter stages, in fact I had made up a few over the preceding few passes. I looked up every now and again only to see a snake of runners off in the distance slogging up the mountainside.


Looking back at the aid station climbing Dive’s Little Giant.

Numerous switchbacks and another false peak, I was exhausted. The last section was so steep; I really had to muster all I had left just to get up it. ‘When would this climb end?’ I thought. I looked back and could see a runner closing the gap, I needed to get my shit together and make one final effort to crest this mother. At last the trail levelled out. I was now on the home stretch, albeit a good 6-7 miles from the finish, but knowing I had broken the back of the major climbs was a huge motivator.


The final climb was a beauty.

I knew I could run reasonably hard downhill regardless of how smashed up I was. A loose scree (and sometime treacherous) track hugged the Dives Mine site. I caught up to and passed another couple of runners. This was invigorating. Controlled sliding on the loose scree is what is called for and I loved it despite the hotspots that had now formed on the balls and heels of both feet. Once across the basin the trail meets up with a jeep road that seemed to switchback endlessly down to the forest below. Soon I was nearing the familiar Arrastra River crossing and the pipeline track that would take me back into Silverton. I recalled the training run I had done with Andy a few days earlier. I ran when I could and walked the sharper inclines. I was now on the forest trail that follows the main creek back to town passing beaver ponds and then the few creek crossings, all of which had makeshift bridges across them. It seemed to take a lot longer to get back to town today though. Still I was running well and at a good clip, determined to finish off strongly. There were no other runners either in front or behind within eyeshot so nothing but the clock to chase. At last I glimpsed sight of the township though the trees - oh what a feeling. Past the ski hut and down onto the streets of Silverton. I could barely contain myself as I crossed the bridge into town. There were a few people about as I crossed the main street. They applauded as I passed them, every local knew about this race. One last turn into Reese St and I could see the school ahead. As I neared the finish line more runners/spectators lined the course and I received a fantastic welcome. Into the final chute I threw my fist into the air triumphantly, stopped and knelt before the rock kissing it. Dale was there to put my finisher’s medal around my neck and shake my hand as he does with every runner. I was ecstatic, no tears, just an immense sense of relief and contentment that I was now a Hardrocker! Giddyup!

Total time 37hrs51 mins (42/140 starters)

I remember Andy’s words about Hardrock a few years ago about how it changed him, and how he sees things in a different perspective having run it. I agree wholeheartedly with those sentiments.
It is an incredibly beautiful course through ‘Wild and Tough’ country but it’s also an immensely endearing couple of weeks of trail running with some of the nicest people around. I felt welcomed into the Hardrock community, the sense of camaraderie unmatched by anything I have experienced before.
Hardrock is trail running in its rawest form. You need a whole lot of luck to get into it to begin with and a whole lot of sheer determination to get through it. Recommended? Hell yeah!




Finish line!