Abe's Multi-Phase Birthday Bonanza

Albert Camus once said: 

This quote truly resonates with me. As I approach 50, I still feel young at heart and mind, but the body is definitely starting to show signs of wear, especially in the back region.  I'm sure this feeling will only be amplifed with each passing year as I go into my next half century of life - nothing to look forward to really. How does one combat this feeling?

An idea: interact with youth. 

Interact is not to say copy, mimic, idolize, even always agree with youth. Just interact with them and let their energy, their perspectives, their life rub off on you for a bit. See if you can understand,  keep up, "hang out", even if it means you have to "hang tough" (more on "hanging" later).

Enter Abe. He is my nephew, 12 years younger than me,  and defines youthful exuberance in a lot of good ways. Like any respectable youth, Abe has lots of physical hobbies, and always has. Some of them are not of interest to me - golf and dance come to mind.  Others are of great interest to me - canyoneering and frisbee. We have been talking about getting out in the slot canyons of southern Utah together for the past 2 years. I've always wanted to use Abe's home in Santa Clara, UT as a base camp for desert adventures, with Whitney's grace and permission of course. 

Abe, Whitney, Everest, and I (not shown here is Ryker).

But life has always annoyingly gotten in the way with these desires for adventures. So finally, about 6 months ago, we resolved that the best time (a.k.a. best "excuse") to get outside would be in conjunction with his birthday celebration. Because I believe that the gift of experience and activity is the best gift we can give ourselves - and when we do it with loved ones, even better because it beomes even more memorable.  Honestly, I really don't remember very many physical gifts I've been given over the years - but I remember pretty much every adventure I've been on (especially with the help of this blog-journal).  Interesting how quickly we usually forget most "gift things" and how long we hold onto "gift activities" - this material world would say that it would and should be the opposite... but that is not so.  

Abe's birthday was November 17, and life (again) kept us from getting into the desert on that actual date. So luckily we scrambled our schedules to get out a mere 6 days later on November 24. We finally found a date that everything came together - we were off work, we had finished our "honey do's" so we were on our wife's good side, and the weather was spectacular. Abe even found a couple of willing buddies (who were even more youthful than him, at least from my middle-aged perspective) to join - Shannon and Kramer.

After some debate on which canyon to do, we settled on a slot into Snow Canyon State Park apparently called Secret Canyon. The plan was to go up the left fork of this canyon, work our way north across the ridge and then descend into the right fork of the canyon, and then hike back to the trailhead, making it a full looper. We hit the trailhead at a comfortable 9 am, knowing this wouldn't be an "all day affair" which was wise in retrospect due to other phases of his celebration.   The canyon started off  mellow enough, as we scrambled through sage towards the climb. 

A perfect morning for an adventure

Working our way towards the upper ridge

Cool desert "secondary glow" (think Alpenglow) make for soft orange hues.

We eventually ascended to the top ridge, opening up 360 degree views of the unbelievably diverse landscape all around, consisting of snow-capped peaks to low-lieing valleys and everything in between. We even looked down into the Tuacahn Amphitheater to our south. Southern Utah is such a special place (don't move Abe and Whit!). 

The late Fall desert panorama from the top of Secret Canyon

The view back to the confluence from the left fork.

Route-finding along the ridge.

We soon came upon the top of the right-hand fork drainage, flanked by steep cliffs on three sides - a classical box canyon. The eroding water could carve no further up canyon - it was a dead end. This was our entrance.  It was finally time to transition from the cardio of uphill to the adrenaline of downhill.  While at this point in my adventure I am usually peeling off my skins, switching my bindings to lock, and getting ready for waist-deep powder,  this time I was rather strapping on my climbing harness, making sure I had enough locking beeners, and adjusting my helmet. A different set of (expensive) gear, no doubt.  But the excitement was still building for me here in preparation for rappelling in the desert, just as it does in the Wasatch for skiing.  We were in for a great descent as we had 8 rappels to now enjoy, each with their own quirks in terms of entry onto, and exit off of, the twisting and curving cliff faces. 

'Here goes nothing!' - my first descent into the box canyon. 

Kramer taking it easy (and safe) on Rappel #1. 

Tight quarters.

Preparing for Shannon's descent on Rappel #3.

The pinnacle experience for me was what I call The Serpentine, Rappel #7.  Abe said the rappel didn't have a name with the local shops and beta books, so I thought I would give it my own. This 80' + contorting cliff face was a blind entrance, meaning I couldn't see how to get started, as well as a blind exit, meaning I couldn't see the bottom. The rope just disappeared into blackness when looking down from the top.  The descending rock face, used to support yourself by bouncing off during the rappel, kept twisting and changing angles. Tiny water seeps were bleeding from the cliff cracks, creating patches of mossy wall paper.  Hanging there in the cool of the shade, slowly twisting in the mid-air, suspended and saved only by my rope. was a surreal experience.  For me it was really a serpentine cathedral. Regardless, I was still grateful to see Kramer, who had graciously gone first, around an overhang  about half way down the free rappel.

Shannon hanging out, while hanging tough, on The Serpentine, Rappel #7

Trying to not get wet!

After The Serpentine, we had one final rappel to perform, The Waterfall.  This plunge was a 100'+ sheer drop that is clearly the direct path of running water.  We all decided it would be amazing to come here after a hard rain storm to see water using its carving power in this canyon - but only safely from a perch or a drone view. Taking our time and being methodical, we all safely made it down this amazing, totally exposed rappel to finish out our experience. 

Getting ready for The Waterfall drop

Great views of the Pine Valley Mountains and the "Utah Blue" sky from our final Rap Station. 

But that was only Phase 1.

We then headed back to base camp, quickly checked in with Whit, picked up Ryker, and were off to Phase 2.  I recently purchased  a new used Toyota Tacoma, aptly named as my latest "man toy." These cars are meant to go off road, usually preferring 4x4 over 2x4. I had not tried the 4x4 function yet, and Abe let me know this was unacceptable. So we "broke it in" on a drive up to some comms towers at the summit of West Mountain. The last mile of this dirt road was some of the most treacherous driving terrain I'd been on in the last decade. Steep drop offs sloping away on the left and sharp rock outcrops jutting into the road on the right forced the driver to be true to the middle of the road, especially on the hairpin switchbacks.  The views on top made this phase totally worthwhile. 

Amazing views into Nevada, Utah, and Arizona. 

True 4x4 terrain up here - the photo doesn't do it justice. 

But that was only Phase 2.

Turns out...Kramer is a gun expert. Abe is learning about guns as his apprentice and student. And I just think it's cool to blow stuff up like in the movies.  So on the way back we stopped and shot 5 guns, blowing up cans and bottles and cardboard boxes. They told me all the cool specs and data on guns, but I don't remember any of it. All I know is that some guns were big, some guns are small, and all guns are (very) loud. It was just cool to blow stuff up in this phase in the waning light of day.

Abe feeling the testosterone flowing

Me pretending I was a cop taking out the bad guys.

But that was only Phase 3.

Every adventure takes massive amounts of physical, mental, and spiritual energy. The body can get depleted of  energy stores quickly. So the final phase was the "gut bomb" meal at Culvers consisting of burgers, rings, fries, kurds, and shakes. This was the funnest phase for young and energetic Ryker. We all snarfed down this unhealthy, but well-deserved, food with great zeal.  And - one more time - that was not the final phase. 

For the last half of the day, I had been envisioning not only the hot burger and fries, but also the hot tub. That would be a perfect way to end a perfect day. My sore muscles would have been so appreciative. And Abe has access to a hot tub facility through a family friend in the area. I was really hoping we would have time to do this, but I had to get home that night and still had to do a 4 hour drive. So alas, we skipped the final phase of hot tubbing.  As my wife likes to remind me - "you just can't do everything!"

But fortunately, I did this phase a year ago with Colter, Ryker, and Abe and still have a picture to prove it. This is what it would have been like - so I'm counting this phase as well. 

October 2024

Happy Multi-Phase Birthday Abe! Let's do it again!

Birthday Party Invitees

North and South Thunder Mountains - Filling In the Mental and Physical Gaps + Jones Hole Fishing

I, Andrew, was born in Holladay, Utah, and was raised by goodly parents. But the Wasatch Mountains have raised me on the outdoor life - the good life.
From my parents bucolic backyard, I can see a bunch of awe-inspiring peaks above the east bench of Salt Lake Valley.  Ever since I was a Boy Scout and did Mount Olympus for the first time at age 12 with my obnoxious friends and ever-patient Scoutmaster, I have been in love with the peaks I can see from the back of my childhood home. This love arose not just from gazing at the peaks, but going one step further - allowing the peaks to draw me in and experience them for myself. I never felt that just the view was sufficient to "scratch the itch" - I wanted to experience them to truly scratch at it.

Olympus was much harder than I ever expected. Dusty hot trails, steep sections with no switchbacks, 3 short flat spots on the whole mountain, all made (and still make) it tough for my 12-year old mind and body.  But once I got down from that first hike, slept a few hours, took a way-too-long shower, and re-hydrated, I felt a satisfaction that couldn't be taken from me.  The soreness, the sunburn, the total physical depletion, all were symptoms of a deeper love of experiencing mountains in a literal way - not just looking at them from a car window or post card or picture. 

The magnetizing Wasatch were pulling me in and starting to raise me.

So ever since then, I have been motivated to eventually hike every front-range peak of the Wasatch that I can see from my parents backyard, and to often do it from non-standard approaches and angles. Many of these memorable summit approaches over the 4 seasons have been captured right here in this blog. I write here because I hope to never forget the love I have for these mountains as I pay tribute to the Master Creator who made them all as gifts to me and you, even my Eternal Father In Heaven. 

Mountains are meant to give us joy - and they certainly have done that for me.

Golden ferns near confluence meadow in Upper Bells.

Going from the north to the south in Salt Lake County, these Wasatch front range peaks get progressively taller.  They almost form a type of elevation staircase  the giants could bound from - Grandeur to Olympus to Twin to Lone (and on to Timp and Nebo if you want to include Utah County). Over the decades, I have  experienced them all. 

Non AI-altered maple tree in Lower Bells.

But there is a glaring gap in my mental model of this summit staircase progression - the Thunder Bowl Peaks, located south of Twin Peaks and north of Lone Peak. I have never climbed those peaks on a deliberate stand-alone mission.  They are foreboding and forlorn, rugged and remote. Yes, I have made them part of 2023's WURL Training, but I never spent more than literally a few seconds on top of them on my way to somewhere else, which hasty pace gave them nowhere near the time these summits deserve. 

Until September 28, 2025.

Randy working his way up the canyon.

Aspens showing off up near Bells Cleaver.

Spectacular colors, on Earth and Sky.

My friend and neighbor Randy has clearly had these peaks in his sights as well. He has spoken of them, mapped them, strategized over them, and attempted them for the past few years, each time falling a bit short. But he was undeterred; I felt like he too wanted to fill in the gap and get these peaks summited, once and for all. As I learned of his detailed trip training and plans, I realized that he was more than just talk - his talk would have to become a walk for him...a walk with a whole lot of vertical and sweat. This particular passion for this particular mountain is rare - I certainly don't have any other mountain friends so excited about Thunder Bowl and the bookend peaks.   And his fire for conquering the Thunder Bowl Peaks spread to light my own fire for these peaks - this was my chance to complete the staircase I had started decades earlier. So I pretty much invited myself to join Randy and company on this trek and he fortunately obliged.

Randy invited his mountaineer brother Greg to join in. They are both a bit older than me (although you'd never know it based on their fitness and mountain resumes), so he encouraged me to bring a friend that's more my age, knowing that we would likely be separated at some point during the adventure. I called on my own trusted mountain friend John (Lingo) to join. He then invited another friend Evan (Obi Wan), who was also "in."   This dynamic group of 5 was set; 

It quickly turned into 3 sub-groups. Based on fitness, timing, and life commitments on the same day, this decision turned out to be wise on multiple fronts. Sub-group 1 consisted of Randy and Greg. They started their adventure at 5:15 am on Saturday. Sub-group 2 consisted of Lingo and Obi Wan. They started their hike at 6:20 am.  Sub-group 3 consisted of just me, a one-man band, starting my trail run at 7:10 am, because I chose another hour of needed sleep that morning.   We all made it to Upper Bells Reservoir by 9:15 am, just as planned. Meeting someone at high alpine elevations with no cell service within the time window planned is actually pretty amazing - so many things can and do go wrong, but not this time. Everyone kept their word on start-time and hiking pace up the steep Bells Canyon. The upper lake is an important  landmark because it is where one leaves the mindless trail hike and begins the strategic bushwhack and route-finding. Here is where the real adventure began.

Obi Wan (foreground) and Lingo (background), working their way towards Bells Cleaver Pass.

The next section was through Bells Cleaver Pass, which is a natural saddle separating Thunder Bowl and Upper Bells Drainage. I had worked quite hard that morning to catch up to these 4 people from 2 different sub-groups so needless to say, I was very relieved to now be hiking and talking among friends. At the top of the saddle, we then descended a few hundred feet down into and across Thunder Bowl. This lead us to a steep natural slide path on the west face of North Thunder Mountain that gave a clear line of sight as a climb-worthy route to the top of Coalpit. From the entry into Coalpit atop the ridge, we turned right and walked the length of a football field along the rocky ridge to the vaunted summit of North Thunder Mountain. 

The views from North Thunder at 11,150 ft were unbelievable. Colors from all sides opened up to me: waves of golden aspens, patches of fire red maples, rust-colored rock, grey granite boulders, cream-colored cliffs, Utah-blue sky, and a few random gray clouds off in the distance. Then there was the view of the entire WURL route laid out like a standing wave, coupled with the serpentine road of Little Cottonwood Canyon. 

Gorgeous country.

Hogum, Maybird, Red Pine, in all their glory.

Upper Thunder Bowl with South Thunder Mountain (left) and Lone (right).

Diversity of color all along Cottonwood Ridge Line.

We couldn't stay on that type of remote summit forever, and we knew it. Water and food and shade were starting to get a bit low, and time constraints were starting to gnaw at us. Obi Wan and I both had a wedding to get to. Lingo had yardwork on his mind. Randy and Greg, as confident as they deservedly were, were self-aware enough to not want to risk descending in the dark with how invariably tired they would be during the descent. As for me,  I knew how rare it would be to get up to this rarely-traveled peak of the Central Wasatch - when would I ever be here again in these circumstances?  I just wouldn't be up there again any time too soon; at least not with how busy my life is right now. 

Beautiful blue-bird day.

Obi Wan pondering life in the High Country....

All smiles for me at finally filling in this gap of the peaks I hadn't done!

The Great Paul Brothers on the summit, with Twin Peaks saluting them from beyond.

All 3 sub-groups basking on North Thunder Mountain as one team great!

I thought out loud about descending Coalpit, but was talked out of it because of being alone on the lower very slick slabs. So I longingly looked over at South Thunder Mountain, probably 2 miles aways south along the ridge. I thought about going for it and my friends prodded me to do it: take the ridge south to South Thunder Mountain from North Thunder Mountain.  My coaxing/tempting of my friends to join me was clearly falling on deaf ears. However, a stranger group of 3 twenty-somethings had just come up Coalpit and were heading to Pfeifferhorn,  ultimately doing a variant of the "Reverse Beat Out." I thought they maybe seemed nice enough to let someone twice their age to tag along on their journey from north to south along that rugged ridge.  Luckily they were very kind to this middle aged man, letting me climb and scramble that ridge with them, even though I wasn't nearly as cool as they were.

The path on to Pfeifferhorn - stay to the right along this ridge...

I then trekked out to South Thunder Mountain at 11,154 ft, leaving the other 4 on my team to descend in their own ways.  I learned later that sub-group 1 ended up heading back the exact way they came, essentially re-tracing their footsteps.  This was probably wise for them, as they needed to conserve mental and physical energy for the long trek back to the parking lot. I also learned that sub-group 2 stayed with Randy and Greg for part of the way then decided to descend due west through the boulder-strewn and uninhabitable Thunder Bowl.  Obi Wan had done this in the winter with snow on the ground and wanted to try it again in Fall, thinking it might be a short-cut.  Bush whacking the descent to abandon the safe trail and take the straight line down is a deceptive temptress.

As for me and the 3 twenty-somethings, we worked our way south along the ridge proper, navigating the spires and cliffs that unavoidably came next on our journey. And I should really call it "workshopping" I learned later.  This was the act of brainstorming and experimenting how to get around down-climbing obstacles. This was taking a bit too long, given how far we all had to still go. I recommended skipping the granite spires and just cutting down into the boulder field to skirt around these difficulties. Fortunately, they were a practical group that cared about the big picture of finishing their hike more than winning style points by free-climbing down spires.  We saved several good minutes by cutting down into the bowl and then re-gaining the ridge after Bells Cleaver. The final ramp up to South Thunder was very manageable and we made good time for that final push upward.

The view of South Thunder Mountain at 11,155 ft were equally breath-taking as the one was from it's older brother peak, North Thunder Mountain. My eyes were drawn out more toward Chipman Peak, Box Elder Peak, Mount Timp, and, of course, the massive sprawl of Utah Valley down below, constrained only by Utah Lake itself.  More close to our peak, we saw great views of Bells Peak (a.k.a. Big Horn Peak) and that great guardian of Upper Bells Cirque, the east face of Lone Peak.  I chatted with this group for a few minutes about who they were and where they hailed from while re-fueling. Then we peaceably parted ways; I am truly grateful for them keeping me company - and keeping me safe - for that 2 mile ridge jaunt from one end of Thunder Bowl to the other. It was supremely rewarding to me to  transverse the bowl and get to know that piece of the Wasatch so intimately by tagging these bookend peaks in one adventure hike. And I couldn't have done it without Kevin, Kendall, and Isabell.

Thank you for letting me tag along, my twenty-something friends: Kevin, Kendall, and Isabell.

The gap in my staircase model had been filled - at last! I was going to sleep well that night. 

I was short on time to get to my own wedding commitment so I sped hiked down to Upper Bells Reservoir, completing the grand looper of Upper Thunder Bowl.  Interestingly, I heard Randy and Greg coming back through the Cleaver Saddle right before getting to the lake. I didn't want to bug them and knew they would be safe so I kept moving at pace. I then  ran down to confluence meadow and again heard Lingo and Obi Wan working to coming through the heavily wooded lower section of Thunder Bowl, which consists of heavy shwacking, as it's unaffectionately called. I called to them, heard a return call from them, and knew they would be safe, as they also knew I was safe as well, so I headed down.

From there, I took some sips of the multiple beautiful water sources in confluence meadow and then ran most of the final 2 miles from that meadow back to my waiting truck in the LCC lower trailhead parking lot. It felt so good to be back on a real trail again! Total stats of the trip were 13 miles of hiking/running/climbing/walking, 6500 feet elevation gained, all over 8.5 hours total.  More importantly to me than those numbers are the qualitative stats that it truly was the best combination of Fall scenery, exercise weather, route finding, and hiking camaraderie that I could ask for. 

On the road home.

Lingo and Obi Wan, as well as Randy and Greg, all made it back safely to their cars as well in their own timing.  Special thanks to all 4 of them for sharing route pictures, shown here. 

I'm grateful to have been able to finally respond to the call of The Thunder Mountains and Thunder Bowl for myself by actually going there - not just from my parents porch looking up trying to guess what it would be like. I don't need to guess any more. I will never forget this epic adventure hike in the Wasatch; these mountains took another small but important step in raising up my body and spirit - even at age 50.  

P.S. Jones Hole - Another Gap Filler

I would forever be remiss to say that the day before we did the Thunder Bowl Looper, I was coming home from another great gap filler: Jones Hole Creek. Like Thunder Bowl Peaks, this has been something on my list for a long time, but I have never fished it. This stream lies nestled in great fishing country, known as the Tri-State Area where Utah, Colorado, and Wyoming all converge in a "T-Bar" fashion. Ideally, I would have spread out these two trips, giving myself time to prepare, execute, and recuperate from each trip properly. But sometimes life just gives you curve balls and you have to keep up with the pace of life. So rather than complain, I wearily went from a lot of driving to and from one of the great fishing streams in Utah to hiking one of the hardest loopers in the Wasatch.

Jones Hole Creek is a beautiful spring-fed tributary to the Green River, a dynamic wild river broken up into several parts or "sections:" Section A is Flaming Gorge Dam to Little Hole; Section B is Little Hole to Indian Crossing; Section C is Indian Crossing to Gates of Dolores. Jones Hole Creek enters in Section C. Here the water is muddy and rapid as it works it's way from the high desert into the lower deserts of the Uintah Basin, not the crystal clear serene flows up in Ashley National Forest and the east flank of the Uintah Mountains where it exits The Gorge. It is named after a scout in John Wesley Powell's first trek down the Green and Colorado Rivers back in the 1860's that recommended camping here for a night or two because of plentiful shade, flat ground, and a clear tributary that enters the Green here. 

Journal records show simply that the fishing in that tributary was "good". Doing it with a great fishing friend and my only son would automatically make the fishing amazing!

And this journal record will report that today, some 250 years later, the fishing at the confluence of Jones Hole Creek and Section C of the Green River is still "good" talk about a massive understatement of the day, in true pioneer spirit. Because the fishing was actually incredible, as was the wildlife-viewing. I'll let the pictures do the talking from here out.

Rocky Mountain Big Horn Sheep - first time I've ever seen them in the wild!

Green showing off a nice 22" brown he caught at the merger of Jones Hole Creek and the Green River, shown in the background. 

Another nice brown caught at "the confluence"

Colter improved his small-stream fishing prowess, catching this nice brown totally indepen
dent!

Laboring For Free Therapy

Age is just a number. But age is also a state of physical, mental, and spiritual well-being. While your actual age doesn't always correlate to your felt age (better or worse), it is a nice indicator of where I'm at on my life's journey. And where am I on this mortal quest we all must take? I'm half-a-century old. I'm 5 decades old. I'm over the hill. In other words, I'm almost 50. Wow- how did this happen, where have the years flown to, and what happens next? Many 50-year olds don't like that number because they are starting to feel their age. Include me on that list. So they take healthy-supplements, weight-loss drugs, anti-depressants, testosterone boosters, muscle-enhancers, bedroom-enliveners, and a whole bunch of other stuff. It can also include books and counselors and free advice that's worth as much as you paid for it. What am I taking? I'm taking a regular dose of true mountain adventures, which in turn allows me to take adrenaline, dopamine, joy, excitement, energy, and, best of all, freedom. I call this free therapy - no appointment necessary. All that is needed is ambition, fitness, and a few good friends who can help you find these natural highs. I think the Beatles said it best: "Oooh, I get by with a little help from my friends, I'm gonna try with a little help from my friends, I get high (elevation) with a little help from my friends." I thank Rebecca Grace for understanding this is my therapy and supporting me unceasingly in wanting to head for the hills. She's such a blessing to me... On Labor Day 2025, I finally got to take part in one of my bucket-list adventures that I've wanted to do for years: The Olympus Traverse. The journey starts in Olympus Cove at the Thousand Peaks Trailhead. It climbs the Z-connector trail to the Zeus Colouir. Working your way into this mini-canyon, the scrub oak trees turn into smaller shrubs which then turn into huge boulders and dirt. At this point it is no longer a hike, but a "free climb." My friend Eric Badger, i.e. The Badge, said it best when I asked him how to do this: "it's a bear crawl hike on a steep, smooth rock face with a few chunks here and there." We worked our way up the North Face of Mount Olympus on all fours, following cracks, seams, and large chunks of rock. Those beefy and outcropping portions of rock proved invaluable - allowing for a rest, building confidence, and replenishing the mind and body that yes, you really could scramble to the top of this face. Getting to the top of the North Face opened up amazing views of this busy and filled-in Salt Lake Valley. We enjoyed working our way eastward on the ridge to the high point on the mountain, the North Summit. After a few dizzing looks into the Memorial Colouirs, we decided it was time to head toward the South Face. We worked our way down a few smaller "false summits" until we were at the final drop into the Tolcat Canyon Pass. This was a 30' section of true rock climbing with no gear. Fortunately, Badge lead Atticus and I down this section, providing enormous guidance and example. I just put my 4 appendages where he put his, as we downclimbed down an overhanging section of cliff. I definitely owe Badge a debt of gratitude, as we would not have been able to do it without him. Once in the saddle, I suddenly longed for winter and snow and skis at my feet. I have wanted to ski west down Tolcat Canyon for as long as I can remember. I have wanted to ski east from here down the main Memorial Col for years as well. I must come back to do this. I'm not getting any younger! Badge moved us forward on to the next objective, as trip leaders do. We scrambled up the south face till I suddenly heard something I hadn't heard all morning: voices. But not just a few - dozens. We were approaching the most popular summit of the Central Wasatch, Mount Olympus. Being Labor Day, it was no surprise that many people wanted to be there. We took a few pictures, Badge said hello to a few fans of his he ran into up there as chance would have it, we had some breakfast snacks, and down we dropped off the summit and onto the well-worn summer trail. The only report to give on the descent is an unfortunate one: I took one of the nastiest falls of my career when I stubbed my leg on a hidden rock while running downhill at high speeds. Two rolls, one loud yell, five bruises on hands and knees, and one huge road rash kept me hobbling for a while. Eventually, I found my stride again. I am grateful it wasn't worse. Free therapy on Labor Day 2025 on the Olympus Traverse was an adventure I shall never forget any time soon!