REPORT: Unsupported 142mi Kokopelli Trail FKT

Executive summary for the non-readers

New unsupported and solo 142mi Kokopelli trail Fastest Known Time (FKT) in 1d 20h 9m (44h9min). It was long, it was hot, it was windy, it was sandy, it was dusty, it was tough.

Early morning on day one.

Movie

The route

“Kokopelli’s Trail is a 142 mile multi-use trail that goes from Loma, Colorado to Moab, Utah. The primary use of the trail as a through route is by mountain bikes. Trail surface varies; the trail utilizes dirt roads (of varying degrees of difficulty), paved roads and some small portions of singletrack” [BLM].

The commonly accepted FKT route is between Kokopelli’s trailhead in Loma, CO, and the Slickrock bike trailhead (38.5814, -109.519395) in the Sand Flats Recreation Area just outside of Moab, UT.

The 142mi Kokopelli trail, connecting Loma, CO, to Moab, UT.

Previous attempt

I made my own pathetic, unsupported, and solo attempt on Thanksgiving Day, Nov 28, 2019, and failed miserably. I didn’t even make it halfway because, alas, the weather was a lot worse than predicted: a massive winter storm dumped 3 feet of fresh snow in the La Sal mountains as I made my way toward the range. I should probably never even have started.

Yet, the good thing about failed attempts is that you can learn a lot of things. I was able to fine-tune my pace, calories, and water spreadsheets, which greatly helped me to be successful on my 2^nd attempt. I also had a much better idea about water availability. Much of the water info I found online or in guidebooks turned out to be wrong, outdated, seasonal, unreliable, or all of it.

The unsuccessful Thanksgiving 2019 attempt. I was clearly not ready for such conditions.

Preparation

I had spent countless hours on my planning since Nov 2019 with the goal to optimize the gear, calories, pace, and water needs. After my first attempt it was clear that I had to go lighter. That would only be possible in perfect and warm weather. I zoomed in on a late May attempt because the weather would likely be good and there would be more water in the spring than in the fall.

[pullquote]The good thing about failed attempts is that you can learn a lot of things.[/pullquote]

Literally a week before my planned start I incidentally saw that Yngwie Ocanas had successfully grabbed the first unsupported FKT in 1d 21h 38m. Dang, what a record! My predicted time was quite far away from that. I had a choice to give up or to revisit my planning. Foolish as I am, I decided to attempt to beat Yngwie’s time. I went back to the drawing board, more hair was lost, more spreadsheets and visualizations were created, more comparisons were done, more fruitless fine-tunings of calories and gear were attempted. Finally, I ended with a somewhat realistic plan that I felt an old, bald, and feeble man like me could safely attempt without dying.

The start

It was chilly, dark, windy, and lonely at Kokopelli’s trailhead in Loma, CO, on Fri, May 22, 2020. At 4am sharp I was on my way. I sorta knew my way since I had done this before, but there are lots of different trails on the first 10 or so miles and it would be easy to take a wrong turn. I focused and checked my GPS regularly while slowly warming up and getting into the “zone.”

Once the sun came up, I enjoyed the spectacular views of the Colorado river while trying to forget that I carried a very heavy pack with food for 50ish hours. But that was going to get worse at the upcoming Salt Creek (mile 11.2). Once I made it there, I loaded up more than a gallon of water that I would need to get me more than 40 miles to Cisco Landing (mile 53).

I continued in relatively good spirits through Rabbit Valley to Castle Rocks, where it started to get very hot. The wind also picked up and my mouth started to feel drier and drier by the minute. I kept staring at my water consumption table and realized that I had already consumed more than I was supposed to. Ugh! How was this going to end?

Fri, May 22, 2020, 4am, Kokopelli’s trailhead in Loma, CO. Chilly, dark, windy, and lonely.

Enjoying first views of the Colorado river.

Castle Rocks. It was hot, dusty, and sandy.

Toward Westwater and beyond

Because of the heat and the heavy pack, I started to slow down and struggle quite a bit as I made my way through Bitter Creek. The views were great, but that was about the only great thing I could think of at that moment.

I got passed by many motorized vehicles of all kinds, which rarely slowed down. They left me literally and figuratively in the dust.

Views!

At mile 37 I hit the paved Harley Dome road that leads to Westwater. It’s only a ~4mi road section, but it feels like it never ends. Like everything, it eventually does. I was so exhausted by then that I had to sit down in the shade under the railroad trestle, where the Kokopelli trail turns off to the right.

I counted my water reserves and consulted my water consumption table. Oh crap! Because of the heat, wind, and dryness, I had consumed 0.5l more than I was supposed to. But not only that, I was horribly thirsty and could easily have gulped down a liter. It was another 12 miles to Cisco landing, where I was planning to grab water in the Colorado river. I had exactly 1 liter left, 0.5 liter less than planed, and most definitely not enough for the current conditions. Would I be able to make it in the terrible heat and with the terribly dry wind? I was very skeptical and nervous.

It felt like I had three options: (1) do a 3mi out-and-back detour to Westwater Ranger station to grab water, (2) continue and hope that I’d make it to Cisco landing without collapsing, or (3) quit right there. Option 1 would lead to losing about 1h, option 2 carried the risk of serious dehydration and of collapsing, and option 3 sounded very appealing.

I opted for option 2, perhaps because my brain functions were already compromised by the onset of dehydration. I got up and as I turned right onto the dirt road that leads to Cisco landing, a group of mountain bikers that had passed me earlier on the road said hi and asked if I needed some water. They had cached it the day before to avoid going to Westwater. Ugh, well, that was tempting, but alas, I could not accept any outside help since I was going unsupported. Yet, after some thinking, I figured it would not be against the rules to fill two 0.5l spare bottles and to carry them in my pack purely as a “safety reserve” in case I got in serious dehydration trouble on the way to Cisco landing. If I really needed to drink from these two bottles the unsupported FKT would obviously be over. On the other hand, if I didn’t touch the “safety water,” I’d toss it at Cisco landing and would simply have carried some extra weight, not unlike carrying some extra rocks or extra food. In fact, the extra weight would possibly slow me down, which would certainly not be an advantage, quite the opposite. I stuffed the extra water in the back of my pack so that I would not be tempted, thanked the bike riders, and moved on as quickly as I could.

I felt much less nervous, having at least a backup plan if things didn’t go well on the next 12 miles. The wind picked up even more, but luckily some clouds started to move in. My mouth felt dry and I started to feel nauseous. After a few miles, I threw up what I had eaten under the trestle. And that’s how things continued until I finally reached Cisco landing. It was very rough going with an incredibly dry mouth and a painfully intense thirst. I had made it on 1 liter, but barely. The sight of the Colorado water was amazing! I emptied the two 0.5l “safety water bottles,” refilled my two front bottles with 1.5l of relatively cool Colorado water to get ready for the upcoming stretch, and drank as much water from the river as I could stomach. The Colorado water looks silty and it is, but it’s by far not as bad as some of the water I drank on the Oregon Desert trail. On my first Kokopelli attempt, I filtered it, but I thought that was unnecessary, so I treated it only with iodine tablets this time.

The few boaters who were busy loading and unloading their boats ignored me. I wish I could have asked them for one of what looked like hundreds of beers that they loaded into coolers! But that had to wait until Moab. After checking my pace table, I realized that I was quite ahead of my schedule, which gave me a well-needed mental boost.

The journey continued. My stomach felt better and after I few miles I took the time to sit down on a rock to eat some dehydrated food that I was now able to prepare because I had enough water.

Unfortunately you can’t see how windy it was on this road to Cisco landing.

Grabbing water at Cisco landing.

Dewey Bridge here I come

It started to get dark soon. I passed some lonely car campers in the middle of nowhere and we chatted briefly. They did not ask what I was up to. I guess I did not look suspicious.

At MacGraw Bottom it’s easy to refill water from the Colorado, so I did. There wasn’t going to be anything for another 13 or so miles to Dewey Bridge. As I reached Highway 128 I silently commemorated the 1^st attempt, which had unfortunately ended there. What was yet to come was new territory to me (except the last 20ish miles). The section to Dewey bridge turned out to be rather slow. Some sections were quite rocky, it was night, and I had to check my GPS a few times to make sure I took the right turns.

Eventually, I got spit out at Dewey Bridge (mile 74), where I reloaded water and then started one of the first big climbs. That is really were the real deal started. What I had seen so far were the easy parts.

The trail is generally well signed. Nevertheless, I needed my GPS a few times to make sure I took the right turns.

Ups and downs

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect on that next section except that my elevation profile showed big ups and downs. That’s exactly what it was like. The rest was a bit of a blur. Daylight showed up somewhere on the way up to Cottonwood Canyon. The scenery was gorgeous. The higher up I went, the rougher the roads got. The trail from the mesa down Rose Garden Hill (mile 88) was super rocky and technical.

By the time I hit Fisher Valley, it was very hot again and I was getting low on water. Thankfully the small stream at Hideout Canyon campground (mile 93.8) was running. Then came another endless climb (with some short downhill sections) to Fisher Mesa trailhead at mile 110 (8,600ft). I filled up water at the stream under the bridge at mile 107.4.

Can’t remember where that was.

The 5mi downhill to Castle Valley road was one of the worst sections. For some reason, I expected a trail or some dirt road, but it turned out to be a terrible and rather steep paved road. My feet started to get beaten up because of all the sand and dust. When I reached the bottom of the valley, whatever wasn’t messed up yet now definitely was. This would have been an amazing downhill ride on a bike, but on foot, it was just terrible. But that wasn’t the end yet.

I filled up water at the turn-off to the La Sal Mt. Loop Road (small stream) and maybe a mile before (large stream crossing under the road).

When I reach the La Sal Mt. Loop Road, the advance on my pace table had shrunk to zero. I saw that coming and it lead to a lot of stress. I seriously considered quitting at that point, but then I told myself that I didn’t need to be ahead of my schedule to beat the record. I had added some margin, so I basically just had to move steadily without slowing down any further. That was easier said than done at mile 115.

I think that was the view from somewhere near Fisher Mesa trailhead. Fisher Valley in the background, I believe.

More pavement!

Sadly, the pavement continued. I guess I could have known that, but perhaps it was better I didn’t. It was a 7mi, painful, slow, and ugly grind up on the La Sal Mt. Loop Road. The cars that were passing me didn’t make the experience any better. I put my head down, tried to run a few sections, and hiked the rest as steady as I could.

When I reached the top at 8,400 or so feet, the sun started to set and it was getting really chilly. Now I only had to go about 20miles!

La Sal Mt. Loop Road. Yes, it’s paved. Yes, it goes all the way up as far as you can see. No, it’s not fun.

The end

I layer up and even had to put on a hat as I started my descent from the Jimmy Keen trailhead. The beginning of the end was quite pretty, the end of the end wasn’t. As the sun was setting, I was strangely looking forward to getting to the endless Sand Flats road soon. I had run this section a few times before, so I knew what to expect. Well, minus all the bad things that my brain had chosen to forget.

When I started the descent, I was for the very first time somewhat confident that I could make it under Yngwie’s time. I knew how much time it would roughly take me to get down to the Slickrock bike trailhead, and that was somewhat comforting. I had enough water and food still, but my biggest concern was the feet, which were hurting badly. I had changed socks somewhere on the way, but that didn’t help much because the sand and dust were unstoppable. There was nothing I could do except to move forward.

I was hoping I would be done before midnight, but my feet prevented me from moving efficiently. The mile markers were discouraging in every aspect. Only at the end I remembered that they were not actually starting at the trailhead but somewhere further down the road. That meant I was actually closer than I thought.

Since all the campgrounds were closed, there was nobody around, which was quite nice. There was no noise, no lights, no fires, no cars, no music. It was eerie quiet and peaceful.

9 minutes past midnight I finally reached the Slickrock trailhead parking lot and stopped my watch and the SPOT: 44h09min (1d 20h 9m), 1h29min faster than Yngwie’s previous unsupported FKT.

Within minutes I saw Jeep lights appear at the horizon. It’s hard to describe the deep exhaustion and relief after completing such adventures.

The next day I slept in and rested.