1992, 7-11, Leadville (CO) Mosquito Marathon

 One sage piece of advice for runners attempting their first marathon is to pick an easy course. This simple instruction isn’t always as easy to follow though. I’d skipped the marathon distance in my climb up the distance ladder, going directly to 50 miles from a base of runs at and just above the half marathon. In 1992 after two attempts at the Deadwood Trail 50 Mile Race I had one finish and one DNF at 43 miles. After two years of experience, I knew that I couldn’t both help with the course marking and organizing, and run the race as well. I started looking around for other reasonably close races as alternates, and the Mosquito Marathon quickly caught my eye.

The race took place in the Colorado’s Mosquito Range on a loop course based out of Leadville. I think this was the second year of the race, which may have had its origins as a training race for the far better known Leadville 100 Miler. It appealed to me with the combination of a beautiful course, extended exposure above treeline, and a chance to bag a fourteener on the way.

My regular running training before the race was meager. But though I wasn’t doing many dedicated runs, my overall conditioning was good. I’d climbed mounts Ranier and Hood earlier in the summer, made two backpacking trips to Wyoming’s Bighorns, had been doing lots of long mountain bike rides, and had several shorter races under my belt.

I drove from Lead, SD to Denver the Thursday before the race. The next day I met with Walt Borneman (of Fourteeners fame) to discuss publishing what would become “Exploring the Black Hills and Badlands,” my hiking guide for the Dakotas. In Leadville the next day I toured the  National Mining Hall of Fame & Museum and generally enjoyed hanging around in one of the epicenters of ultrarunning. To put things in perspective, when I asked one of the race organizers how much of the course was runnable, the reply was “all of it.”

Race morning was just as cold as one would expect above 10,000’. I needed gloves, and ear band, wind shell, tights, and a polypro shirt. I carried only one water bottle, which was not enough with the widely spaced aid stations.

The race started with a run up the gravel road along California Gulch. We passed the Asarco Black Cloud Mine, the last operating mine in this famous mining district. I got to the Hardy Hill Aid Station #1 in 1:40, running almost all the way. In Empire Gulch I walked more, the gulch was wet and the trail faint. The climb to the ridge was too steep and rocky for running, but things cleared up as we got above treeline. The ridgeline had a few small snowfields. We climbed over Peerless Mountain at 13,348’, and then around the summit of Mount Sheridan.

The course highpoint was 14,036’ at Mt Sherman, how often could one climb a fourteener and finish a marathon at the same time? Here we passed some other hikers and got a few light snow flurries. I encountered another runner who was cramping pretty badly. I’d brought some of the salt tablets I used at work and gave them to him with instructions to use them with lots of water. Later on, he passed me looking strong and thanking me greatly for the help.

After going over the top of West Gemini and around Dyer Mountain we got to Hands on Saddle at 15.3 miles. The saddle had two relatively easy, short down climbs where it was easiest to go around the ridgeline on the right. I’d been passing a lot of people on the ridgeline and it appeared that many didn’t have a lot of experience off trail. After one more climb up Mount Evans, I got to the second aid station below Mosquito Pass at 17 miles and 5;20, and the end of a six mile stretch above 13.000’.

The third aid station at Lake Isabelle at 21.1 miles required a final 400’ side climb that about did me in. But after we got back on the main route it was mostly old railroad grade back into town. I was getting passed a lot on this section and was glad to spot a spectator coming up the trail, which meant I wasn’t last. Surprisingly, they told me there were still a lot of runners out on the course. I was simply tired, no knee issues or problems with my stomach. Living at 5000’ in Lead, SD kept me  in good shape for the altitude in Colorado. I finally rolled into town to finish in 7:15:37 and #53 out of 96 finishers. 

Mosquito Marathon Course Map.

Mosquito Marathon Course Schematic.

Though 100+ starters was a big race back in those days, the run had been pretty low key and a lot of fun. The run was billed as 26.6 miles, but even so 7:15 was a very modest marathon debut. The extra four tenths of a mile was enough to get a write-up in Ultrarunning Magazine, which back then reported the results of all the ultras in the country. After the run I drove up to the Rabbit Ears Range and slept in my truck at the trailhead for Parkview Mountain. I would have spent a comfy night in the truck if I had remembered to pack my sleeping bag. Snoozing under a few towels and spare cloths didn’t cut it at altitude. Parkview at 12,296’ proved a good post-race hike, not too long or steep. But I found the summit cabin occupied, and thick fog plus light rain deprived me of any views.

My next marathon would not come for another three years, after I moved to Tennessee and ran the Smoky Mountain Marathon in Townsend in 4:14. I doubt there are any official records on this, but suspect if there were I would own some record for taking the most time ever off my PR, by slashing over three hours off my Mosquito Marathon time, and proving that all distances are not created equal.

Bomber Mountain Backpack, Bighorns, 7-3/5-92

This three day hike into the Bighorns would be the last of my trips to the range during my time living in Lead, SD. Kathy & Leroy Hart and I picked a three day weekend to give us a full middle day for the climb of Bomber, with long approach days on either end. We were hoping this would be an easier trip than our previous climb of Cloud Peak (Cloud Peak), which had also included their dog Sophie. Bomber Mountain is generally considered the fourth highest peak in the range, but is not mentioned in the Melius hiking guidebook. However, the 1960 climbing guide by Bonney and Bonney states that the peak was named for a 1943 B-17 crash site, and lists a class 2 walkup route via the southwest ridge.

Cloud Peak from Bomber Mountain.

We left Lead early in the morning on the 3^rd and drove to the trailhead at Hunters Corral. Low clouds would roll through Florence Pass at the head of the canyon all day. The road was closed at the trailhead due to soft surface conditions. That gave us a three mile hike on drivable terrain to reach Soldier Park. Here we encountered one boggy area that we assumed was the reason for the road closure.

The Powell Cirque from Medicine Cabin Park.

Beyond Soldier Park the road was much rougher with nonstop boulders. The Cloud Peak Wilderness boundary was well marked, and there was a picnic table and campsite there. We saw two other well marked trail intersections in Trail Park, but I got confused at a small opening just before the Park.

Medicine Cabin Park.

As we got into Medicine Cabin Park the second bridge over North Clear Creek was out, but we found a handy log to cross on. We passed up one exposed campsite in a flowery meadow. Instead, we hiked another mile (for a total of 9 miles for the day) to the upper end of Medicine Cabin Park where a side trail crosses North Clear Creek on a bridge. We had the primo campsite is one of the most scenic spots in the range, unbothered by hay fever or mosquitos. Medicine Cabin Park is right on the edge of the alpine zone, with cascades tumbling down sheer cliffs on three sides, and spectacular views into the cirques feeding into the park. I’d passed through the park on my 1986 backpacking circuit with Craig (1986 Bighorns Loop) , and would do so again in 1999 with Jean (1999 Bighorns Loop). For all of us it was our favorite valley in the range. In 1986 Craig and I had hurried down the trail so Craig could get back to Lead in time for Kathy and Leroy’s wedding. So, it seemed fitting that I was here again with them, and with the time to savor the setting. Sophie patrolled the campsite keeping us safe from raiding squirrels.

We cooked up a great dinner, and even treated ourselves to a campfire. At dinner the clouds cleared, and we thought ourselves safe from the typical evening rains. But soon a brief shower moved in driving us to the tents.

Black Tooth and Woolsey from Bomber Mountain.

Sunday morning dawned with a clear blue sky. The trail to Florence Lake was a series of switchbacks, then became a route hacked through the granite. As we reached Florence Lake at around 11,000’ a light rain began. I wasn’t sure I wanted  to continue, knowing the conditions above could be much worse. But the Harts seemed game to on, so up the southwest ridge we went. The start of the climb was the steepest part. Near the first bench around 11,800’ the rain stopped, and we reached the lower limit of what had been last night’s snow. Older snow was abundant near the start of the second step at around 12,000’. We soon learned to use the harder old snow for walking to avoid the typical Bighorns boulders. The were a lot of false peaks along the ridge, but otherwise it was an easy trip up a long ramp. I got quite a bit ahead, and briefly turned back from the summit, just as the Harts and Sophie arrived. At the summit, Cloud Peak seemed close by. This was the location for the classic “Death March #3 overlooking Death March #1” framed photo that the Harts later gave to me.

With the Harts on the summit of Bomber Mountain.

After turning a perfect blue for our climb, the sky was now gray, and the wind was picking up. So, we left quickly to find the remains of the crashed bomber. Our ascent route had been via the ramp to the southeast of the Golden Lakes. For the return we would use the ramp on the opposite side of the lakes to reach the bomber. We did our best to stay on the snowfields, and aimed for a large snowfield on the south side of a 12,400’ subpeak. Leroy had been to the bomber before, so he led us to a point below an 11,680’ peak northwest of Florence Lake.

The wreck is strewn about the base of another snow field. Much of it had been hauled away for souvenirs and other pieces had been moved around. But there are a few large pieces remaining, and the destruction gives you the feeling of the power of the impact.

At the bomber crash site.

According to Wikipedia the B-17 disappeared on a flight from Oregon to Nebraska. Two searches for the plane in 1943 and 1944 were unsuccessful. In 1945 two cowboys spotted the wreckage, and later the bodies of the crew members were recovered. In 1946 the previously unnamed ridge was christened Bomber Mountain by the Forest Service. In 1990 a book about the crash was published.

The descent back down from the bomber was a little tricky, especially for a tired crew. Florence Lake is rimmed by cliffs, complicating the route finding. We followed the main draw down, skirted some cliffs and followed snow fields to another set of cliffs. There is a black dike above the lake, and it appeared that the best route was above the dike. From there it was back down the trail to our camp in Medicine Cabin Park. I would end my Bighorns peak bagging career with one 13’er (two ascents of Cloud Peak), four 12’ers (Bomber, Penrose/12,664’, Bighorn, and Darton 2X), 11,565’ on the way to Mather Peak, three 10’ers around the Hazletons, and 9,610’ Sheep Mountain near Powder River Pass.

The hike out the next day was uneventful, though we did see many more people. At the trailhead the person at the information booth told me that a forest trail crew was planning to go into the area that week.