Monday, September 8th, 2003: Brian Robinson starts his attempt at breaking the previous speed record to complete the John Muir Trail in the Sierras.

There’s nothing like stepping out of the ordinary and attempting something you’ve never done to kick start the learning process. My JMT speed record attempt was just such an educational opportunity. I had experience with multi-thousand mile hikes and with ultra runs as long as 100K. But during the hikes I’d usually slept at night, and no ultra had lasted anywhere near 100 continuous hours. Dealing with lack of sleep would be a crucial problem.

Other things were easier to prepare for. The JMT traverses 220 miles of wilderness with no road crossings, so carrying sufficient gear to deal with unexpected weather was necessary. But every pound would slow me down, so I settled on about 5 pounds of gear carried in a GoLite Race pack designed for running.  With 4 passes over 12,000 feet, two over 13,000 and 14,497-foot Mt. Whitney on the JMT, I felt acclimation to the altitude was necessary, so my girlfriend Sophia Lewis and I spent about 2 weeks in the high Sierra. It gave us time to scout sections of the trail that we hadn’t seen in a while or might be problematic. It was also a great opportunity to enjoy the high country through which I would soon be traveling at great speed. It was a wonderful time and I knew I was ready when my resting heart rate one morning at almost 10,000 feet was just 42 beats per minute.

Peter Bakwin was kind enough to supply me with split times from his record setting run just one month earlier. I was surprised to see how fast he ran some of the tough sections and how much time he spent with crew. My race strategy, based on my experience as a thruhiker, would be to minimize the time spent with crew and keep moving as much as possible by eating on the run and sleeping as little as possible. My crew never cooked any meals for me, and only once had a sleeping waiting. I would eat almost one Snickers bar per hour throughout the run.

We went home to the Bay Area for a couple days to make last-minute preparations and join our support crew. Early plans had Sophia joining me for the entire 220-mile trek, but a stress fracture at Western States in June had nixed that idea. She had lost so much training time that she was worried about holding up for 88-miles of pacing. She would join my father, Roy Robinson as crew at Whitney Portal and the Mono Creek crossing near Lake Edison. Sophia would pace me from there to the end and Roy would crew alone a Tuolumne Meadows and Happy Isles. Gayla Johnson and Charles Stevens made up the second crew. Both experienced trail runners, they would meet me at the critical and remote Bishop Pass Trail junction and at Red’s Meadow. I decided against other potential resupply locations like the Kearsarge Pass Trail junction because they were remote and I’d get there in the middle of the night. I also felt that the key to improving on Peter Bakwin’s record would be to spend less time with my crew than he did.

So on Sunday 9/7, Sophia, Roy and I drove to Lone Pine, near the start of the JMT. I picked up a wilderness permit and we joined Ben and Denise Jones for pizza. They’re enthusiastic supporters of fellow ultra runners who visit their “backyard.” They also saw Peter Bakwin and his crew off before his trip.

Monday morning at 6:12am I was off from Whitney Portal. The start time was moved back the 12 minutes or so it took me to find and replace the batteries in my two headlamps when I dropped them in the dark parking lot. The first 10+ miles rise from 8,361 feet to the top of Mt. Whitney at 14,497 feet. Needless to say it’s a bad idea to go out too fast here. Five or six hours would be a reasonable pace. I had determined to go out slower than Peter Bakwin’s blazing 4:18, but I arrived at the top in 4:01, passing day hikers the whole way. The fact that they were carrying less than I was and didn’t have to go another 211 miles should have been enough to curb my ego and slow my pace, but it wasn’t. I signed the register, tagged the summit benchmark and returned to Trailcrest where the JMT continues north. I comforted myself with three thoughts. First, I’d spent about 20 minutes less time on the summit than Peter, so I could afford to slow down my pace. Second, I knew taking it easier downhill was going to be even more important than going easy uphill. And third, in training I’d run to the summit of Mt. Whitney with my pack in 3 ½ hours, so I had gone somewhat slowly.

Anyway, what was done was done, and I still felt great, so I pressed on, reaching 13,180-foot Forester Pass at 4:45pm, exactly on pace with Peter! Night fell as I headed up 11,978-foot Glen Pass at the 43.8-mile mark. When I crossed Woods Creek, 8,547’, I gained almost 2 hours on Peter. He spent 2:06 with crew. I spent 10 minutes washing my feet and changing socks. My feet were still in great shape with just one hot spot under the ball of my right foot alleviated by getting the grit out of my socks. I had a lead of 1:31.

My lead was down to 1:21 at 12,130’ Pinchot Pass, reached about 3am. The sun rose on my second day on the way up 12,100’ Mather Pass where my lead on Peter was down to just 36 minutes. I’d recovered from my first really sleepy episode by taking two 10-minute naps, but it was clear that the rest that Peter had taken with crew was not all “wasted time.”

I felt great during the second day, surprisingly not sleepy at all. Peter and I both had crew at the Bishop Pass Trail junction, the 85.6-mile mark. He spent 1:06 with his; I spent 18 minutes with mine. I arrived 3 minutes behind him, but left with a 45-minute lead. I saved time by not eating with my crew or sleeping at all. They replenished my Snickers stash. My feet were feeling okay after a change to new socks.

11,955-foot Muir Pass was next. I arrived at 3:57pm, 32-minutes ahead of Peter. His longer rests were fueling a faster pace on the trail both downhill and uphill.

Peter had crew at the Piute Creek crossing at the 109.2-mile point and I didn’t. Peter, evidently counting on a long rest, cruised downhill from Muir Pass! My lead was replaced with a 1:51 deficit during that stretch. But Peter spent 4:45 with his crew, including 3 ½ hours asleep! Wow. This was turning into a tortoise vs. hare race. When I crossed the bridge and pocketed a lead of 2:54 I was feeling like Aesop was on my side.

But how fast would Peter be after so much rest? 10,900-foot Seldon Pass would provide the answer. Those 9.4 miles, traveled by me from 11pm until 4am, were tough. I was hallucinating badly. I was startled to see that I chose a worm-infested spot to dig a cat-hole, but when I saw the “worms” under every tree I concluded they were probably just pine needles. Still, the squirming was quite convincing. I barely remember the 3,000-foot climb, except that it was endless. I would periodically “wake up” while still walking and wonder how far I’d come. It was scary. I decided against taking any catnaps because I had crew waiting at the Mono Creek crossing. I would nap there. But at Seldon Pass my lead was down to 1:45. I was getting worried. I knew Peter was undoubtedly tired at this point also, but I was tired beyond belief and had to endure at least one more night.

Coming down Bear Ridge into Mono Creek/Lake Edison is a real knee-pounding experience dropping over 2,000 feet in 3 miles. Unlike similar drops off the passes behind me, this one is not so rocky and slippery that real running is out of the question. Despite feet now covered in hot spots that I hoped would not become real blisters, I ran down the hill as fast as I could. My quads were fine, but my feet complained. I know I frightened my crew when I arrived, looking like death and requesting both a maximum ½-hour rest and foot care for possible blisters. They immediately said they’d give me 40 minutes. I didn’t argue. It was 9:45am and I was into my 3rd day running on just 20 minutes of sleep the last two nights. This was the only stop where Peter was faster than I was. He took 40 minutes here; I took an hour. I remember Sophia saying my feet looked serviceable as I plunged headlong into deep sleep. I was amazed by how refreshed I was when I awoke! From here I’d have Sophia as a pacer, so my spirits were doubly lifted. We left with an unknown lead because Peter didn’t record a split time here.

At Silver Pass, 7 miles later and 3,150-feet higher, we had a 21-minute deficit. I didn’t even notice. It was just great to have Sophia walking with me. I also knew that Peter’s pace from here had been slow enough that if we walked at a decent pace the rest of the way, we would beat him. I just needed to keep my spirits up and Sophia was doing great on that score.

The JMT would seem to be a veritable road given its status as one of the most famous trails in the world. In many areas, that’s true. But starting in the Red’s Meadow area, there are some places where the trail is not as well maintained as it should be. There are gravelly areas where water washes across or along the trail. In full daylight, it’s not a tough problem to follow the trail. If you can’t see the trail right at your feet, you can see it up ahead, or you can see footprints leading in the right direction. But in the dark it’s much harder to guess right. Consequently there are numerous places where we’d lose the trail for a bit, or not be sure that we were still on it. The Red Cones area approaching Red’s Meadow was the first of these. The deep ash there does not hold a trail well. Sophia and I managed to follow the trail at full-walking pace, but the mental effort required to do so was considerable. I didn’t realize it yet, but my mind was suffering more from the miles and sleeplessness than my body was.

We had crew at Red’s Meadow just as Peter had. Again we were more efficient and made up precious time. He spent 5:44 with crew; we spent about 20 minutes. We left with a 3:55 lead, but we paid a price for not resting. The Red’s Meadow area is full of side trails and roads. We’d scouted this area to be sure we knew where to go. It was confusing, but we managed to find our way, almost. As we headed up the hill on the other side of the river, I noticed that we were heading down the canyon rather than up the canyon. Sophia wasn’t so sure, but I insisted we’d missed a turn and were going the wrong way. I backtracked 10-15 minutes, but found no wrong turn. When we got back to where we’d been, the “wrong way” was just a switchback. In my deepening stupor, it cost us half an hour. Worse yet, I decided not to eat the pizza I had been carrying since the last crew stop until we found our way. Then to make up time, we pushed hard uphill. Sophia was leading for the first time to relieve me of the mental burden of navigation after my mistake. She expected that would allow me time and energy to eat. However, she was fresher than I and set fast pace. Rather than think that I really needed to eat, I was thankful to have her push me up the hill. I put off eating even longer as I struggled to keep up. Very soon I was bonking badly. Sophia asked if I’d been eating, and I said I’d just eaten three pieces of pizza and was stuffed. Clearly my mind was not working well because just five minutes later I begged Sophia to stop so I could eat.

The rest of that night is a blur to me, but Sophia says we stopped six or seven times between Red’s Meadow and Thousand Island Lake. Twice I was so bonked I needed to stop just to eat. Three or four times I needed a 10-minute nap and we stopped for almost an hour at Rosalie Lake so I could wash my feet and drain several blisters. When my mind returned to me I was sure we’d blown it. My mind and body recovered significantly with the dawn, but my spirits were still low. With so many hours at such a slow pace, I was sure Peter was miles ahead by now. But I couldn’t be sure because Peter hadn’t given me a split time, so we pressed on.

It was 11:07am when we reached Donohue Pass. Even that early in the morning, the temperature was higher than we’d experienced before. A heat wave had arrived, bringing triple digit temperatures to lower elevations. We sucked down water as best we could. Expecting the worst, I checked Peter’s split time against ours. He must have had a tough time on this section too because we were still 1:26 ahead! Halleluiah! I was very proud not to have given up earlier when I felt like all was lost.

With blistered feet, significant running was now out of the question, but it wasn’t necessary. We just needed to keep walking at a decent pace and not waste any more time. Ominously it was also clear that we’d have to walk into the 4th night, something I’d hoped to avoid by finishing earlier. Given how much energy Sophia had expended babying me through the 3rd night, I knew there wasn’t much room left for error. We’d need everything to go well from here.

We had our last crew stop at Tuolumne Meadows. Roy was concerned by how late we arrived, reminding us that the pace we’d managed through the 3rd night wouldn’t be good enough the 4th night. Did we have it in us, he asked? “Yes,” I said. The trail in the last section isn’t as tough. All we have to do is climb Cathedral Pass, hike the ups and downs to the edge of Yosemite Valley and cruise downhill the rest of the way. We also had a growing lead on Peter. Arriving at Tuolumne Meadows we had a lead of 1:34 and again spent less time with crew. We left with a lead of 3:24 with just 25 miles to go! I’d run that section in about 4 hours in training. But after 195 miles, I wasn’t up to much running anymore. Peter had taken over nine hours on this section. Surely we could hike 25 mostly downhill miles in less than 12 ½ hours!

We cruised. The power walk up Cathedral Pass was great. I filled my Camelback for the last time. I moved enough Snickers bars into the outside pocket of my pack to last the rest of the way. It was almost over! We passed Sunrise High Sierra camp just after sunset. We had over 8 hours to hike the last 12.7 miles with a net downhill run of 5,300’.

Then the wheels fell off. In the darkness, we lost the trail! I was in my 4th night without sleep; Sophia was in her 2nd. I was using Sophia’s best batteries in my flashlight because mine were worn out. She was following me with minimal light. Sophia was worn to a frazzle due to the 80 miles of pacing she had done, especially carrying me through the previous night. It was like the blind leading the blind. We lost the trail at the highest point between Sunrise High Sierra Camp and Yosemite Valley. There is gravel and ruts all through there. The trail cross some ruts and follows others. By daylight, it’s no problem. You can see the footprints between ruts. You can also see the trail up ahead. But in the dark and in as bad a shape as we were in, it was too much. With hindsight, all we had to do was get on hands and knees with even a dim flashlight and follow footprints for a couple hundred yards, but that didn’t occur to us. We did the next best thing; we walked in big loops out from the last known location. We followed ruts. We crossed ruts. We walked randomly. To our credit, we didn’t lose the last-known trail point despite over 2 hours of searching the area. I finally concluded in my stupor that perhaps we’d followed a false trail. We backtracked. By the time we returned to Sunrise High Sierra camp my tired desperate mind “remembered” making this same error several years ago, asking directions and being told that the real JMT left somewhere on the other side of Long Meadow in front of the camp. We looked for it. I wanted to set out across country to find the trail by intersecting it somewhere. Sophia nixed that idea. She was lucid enough to know by now that I wasn’t thinking straight. She was cold. Our clothing wasn’t warm enough not be walking fast. It was now nearing midnight and the temperature was below freezing. This was becoming a life-threatening situation, and she didn’t want me making the situation any worse by getting us truly lost. With some pleading, she convinced me it was time to take safer action. We needed to find shelter. I was sick when I realized this meant the speed record was lost.

We returned to Sunrise High Sierra Camp looking for help and found an empty tent cabin with a cot and wool blankets. We slept six hours. In the morning we found the caretaker and explained our situation.  He didn’t fault us for sleeping in the camp and offered us use of the camp phone. We reported our situation to the Yosemite ranger station in case Roy reported us missing. We also left a message with our home contact for Roy.

That settled, we set off down the JMT again. We spent about an hour looking for my non-existent “other” trail out of Long Meadow before we retraced our steps all the way to the top of the hill where we’d first lost the trail. By morning light, we found the trail in less than 2 minutes. Ouch. There were some other washed out sections that would have given us a little trouble at night, but soon we were on solid trail the rest of the way. We’d come so close.

We arrived in Happy Isles among the crowds of day hikers at 1:14pm on Friday after a leisurely walk. Roy was still there waiting for us, wondering what had happened. So was I. It would take me another couple days to sort it out. I’d finished in 4 days, 7 hours and 2 minutes, about 9 hours too late. After some sleep I realized the hare had won this race. My tortoise strategy resulted in a sleep deficit that eventually fried my brain. I’d gotten lost because I was too tired to find my way on an obscure trail in the dark. If I’d been there about two hours earlier, it would have been light enough to get through easily.

This was my first experience with multi-day trail running. It’s not an easy thing to do. Experience counts. Peter Bakwin has it. I didn’t. Now I do, so perhaps if I try again someday, I’ll do better.

Brian Robinson, September 15th, 2003