Lone Star Hundred 100K

Why didn’t I bring my trekking poles? They were sitting right there in plain sight with all the useless running gear when I left this morning. But I thought to myself, no the 100K course doesn’t go on Schaeffer Shuffle, you won’t need them. Well, I could sure use them now as I traverse an oversized Lego block strewn slope up to the spine of the Franklin Mountains while bursts of unrelenting wind sting my face. My ankles twist and roll as I try to keep my balance on the shifting jagged rocks of the scree field that leads to the big cottonwood tree by the spring in the Franklin Mountains State Park in El Paso, TX.

Oversized Lego blocks. (Minimalist shoes NOT recommended)

I really have nothing to complain about though. I just passed a friend who is running the Franklins 200 miler that started on Wednesday of this week and has been going for more than three days already. I think about the fact that I’m only on my first 32.5 mile loop of the Lone Star Hundred 100K so I just suck it up and focus on making it to the tree. Very high log steps are placed willy-nilly on this trail that leads to the spring. Boulders and large roots augment the steep stairs but I still have to use my hands in a few places to climb up. Did I mention trekking poles would be handy here? 

The ridge looking North

I pass a shallow puddle that is the spring and then hit a dirt trail that takes a gentler pitch at first, but then turns, heading straight up a steep slippery path towards the ridge. Several Spanish bayonet plants with long pointed spears line this section of trail where a fall could mean serious impalement. I take two or three steps forward only to slide one back. I finally make the ridge and the wind just about knocks me over. I move as quickly as possible down to the main dirt road that takes me to the highest and most beautiful aid station in Texas — Mundy’s Gap Aid. I stop briefly to don my jacket since I have a four mile out-and-back to the top of El Paso —N. Franklin Peak at 7192’ elevation. 

Highest aid station in Texas, Mundy's Gap

Plenty of runners are coming down as I climb up and there’s no way of knowing whether they are 200 mile, 200K, 100 mile or 100K runners since we are all on the same course now. The wind is calm in spots, but then comes in strong gusts as I turn a corner. I make good time and reach a saddle where the wind is strongest chilling me to the bone. A series of switchbacks takes me up the steep slope and soon the entire mountain range comes into view with the Organ Mountains, NM in the background. I climb this peak almost every weekend so this part of the route has become routine for me. I pass a few lowlanders struggling to make it up the mountain and then reach a guy who is peering up at the peak in disbelief. “Come on brother! One more zig and one more zag and you’ll be at the top. You got this!”, I tell him. He does a sort of half way smile not looking amused at all. 

N. Franklin ascent

I finish the grind to the top where the view is amazing. S. Franklin Peak to the south and Mt Cristo Rey rising up from a sea of urban development right smack on the border of El Paso and Juarez, Mexico. The cold numbs my fingers, but I take a few obligatory summit photos anyway before heading back down. The trail is treacherous and my pace is almost as slow going down as coming up because the footing is very tricky in spots. Perpendicular slabs of rock protrude from the trail making running almost impossible.

A USGS Bulletin titled, Geology of the Northern Franklin Mountains, describes the terrain best:

In general, the mountains of this chain are formed by westward-tilted bedrock with steep scarps of eroded strata facing eastward…The rock layers that form the mountains are tilted to the west and present a steep frontal scarp to the east below a knifelike crest that culminates in seven named peaks that range in altitude from 5,400 to 7,200 feet. Deep rugged canyons, all of them normally dry, lead eastward to the Hueco Bolson [aquifer] and westward to the Rio Grande.

What does all this geology jargon mean to the ultrarunner? Most accidents happen on the way down so stay on your toes and be alert lest you trip on the tilted rock layers and go ass-over-teakettle off the knife-like crest, bouncing off the eroded strata, down the steep scarp and into the rugged canyon below. Any questions?

USGS Bulletin

I try to slow my descent, but gravity takes over and my trajectory feels more like a controlled fall. The rocks are loose and slippery at first and then I’m on tilted bedrock that requires me to carefully place my feet on uneven blocks. One misplaced step will result in…well…you know. Did I mention trekking poles would be helpful here? I zig and zag down the mountain for a while and pass through an eroded gully where my feet promptly slide on the loose gravel. Once past the windy saddle the footing is a little better and I can safely run for the most part.

Obligatory summit photo

I return to the Mundy’s Gap aid station where I stop for some food and drink and then continue the descent down the East side of the mountain. By the time I reach the bottom I begin to heat up so remove my wind shell and stow it away. I pass by some old tin mines and pick up my favorite trail, the Scenic Rd which is a smooth buffed out path of packed red dirt. Here there are spectacular views of towering peaks of grey and red rock with the occasional pointed tooth protruding from the ridge.

Runners ascending to N. Franklin Peak (Notice their trekking poles)

Next I turn onto Sotol Forest Trail, another of my favorites. Sotol are plants that have thin serrated leaves; the larger ones have dried fronds that hang down like a hula skirt. In Spring a tall stalk with a feathery plume quickly grows from the center of the plant. When the greenery dies on top of the plants, you are left with something that resembles Cousin It from The Addams Family which makes for interesting running in the middle of the night when you are hallucinating. I run in and out of several arroyos along this stretch and make it into the East aid station.

Cousin It (Addams Family)

I ask the volunteer if she will still be here when I arrive in the middle of the night on my second loop and she replies yes. “I promise I’ll try not to be too grumpy when I arrive then.”, I say. She promises the same and so we make a deal. Some of these volunteers have been out here in the wilderness for days on end making sure runners have all the fluids and fuel they need to finish their race. Trail Racing Over Texas volunteers are true heroes and make it possible for us to keep going day and night.

Buffed out Scenic Road

Sotol Forest

The Newman trail is the last significant climb on the loop so I waist no time leaving, in hopes of getting it over with. I walk most of it to make sure I save some energy for my second loop. There are several twists and turns on this single track path at first and then you climb high following the contour of the mountain. Once at the top there are good views of the Organ Mountains in the distance and White Sands Missile Range, NM where the Bataan Memorial Death March is held every March. 

North end, New Mexico in the background

I run down the mountain and pass through a wide gravelly arroyo and then the trail snakes, bend after bend, around the mountain and along the side of Hitt Canyon. I grow lost in my thoughts in the solitude as I run, making the time go by quickly. I enjoy the beauty of the landscape where I’m reminded of an inspiring passage from a book I’m reading by Frank Kingdon-Ward. In his, On the Road to Tibet he writes:

At one time alongside the frothy torrent, at another giving precarious foothold up amongst the bush-clad precipices which yet towered far above, the trail wheeled sharply round bend after bend as it followed the sinuous curves of the river, affording endless views of matchless beauty. Beyond the projecting cliff which dipped boldly into the racing green waters, framing the picture for a moment, one more peep into the kaleidoscopic scenery always awaited us. A tiny white temple nestling amongst the dark pines which clothed a tongue of land, a glowing ochre scarp, several hundred feet high, crowned by waves of feathery bamboo; a sweep of firs hidden in a dark ravine, powdered with lingering snow that the dull warmth of winter had laid no hand on. all softened and blended in the mellow sunlight and vignetted against the streak of twilit sky as night came on, ever changing in colour and in form.

Before I know it I’m at the top of the Northern Pass where I cross back to the West side of the Franklins. The view is stunning and you can see just how far into the middle of nowhere you really are. There is an expanse of brown desert before you with a ribbon of greenery in the middle where precious water from the Rio Grande irrigates crops. Mt Riley and the Potrillo volcano field are far in the distance. 

The descent here is steep with a lot of tricky footing due to rock outcrops and small cliff like obstacles. There are about 15-20 switchbacks to get you down the mountain. Once at the bottom I hit a wide dirt road where I can run a good pace for a while. I reach the last remote aid station, West Aid. I pull my power bank out to recharge my Suunto gps watch so it will have a full charge when I start my second loop. 

This last section is known as Tommy’s Revenge so named after my running buddy who hates this section more than any in the Franklins. There are a lot of featureless uphill straight sections and it’s usually really hot here on the desert floor. The first part isn’t too bad though, with some twisty in-and-out-of-arroyo single track that is fun to run.

Tommy's Revenge (yawn)

I look at my watch and notice that I’m making very good time. Cara and Maddie are supposed to meet me with some hot soup later at the park pavilion, but I think I’ll be earlier than they expected. I give Cara a call to let her know and she informs me that the soup may not be done in time so the race is on. Who will arrive at the pavilion first? Me or the hot soup? I keep running, growing hungrier with each mile; thinking about the soup.

East side of the Franklins

Soon the sun ducks behind the clouds and downslope winds pick up chilling my body to the core so I stop to put on my jacket. The trail is a slight uphill with a few more arroyo crossings and then the Mammoth Rock appears in the distance. I know I’m getting close. I make it to the dirt park road that I ran this morning and kick it into high gear as I run downhill. I reach Upper Sunset Trail and start the uphill grind to the Pavilion. The sun comes back out and the wind dies down causing me to heat up so I have to take my jacket off again.

The path to the Pavilion

I can see the roof of the pavilion and think I see Cara. My stomach is rumbling with the thought of a proper dinner. I’ve been surviving on almond stuffed dates, apples, oranges and boiled potatoes all day. I struggle on the last steep climb and reach a set of cement stairs that take me the rest of the way. Cara and Maddie are waiting and take care of all my needs. The soup is hot and delicious and really hits the spot. We visit for a short while and then I hit the Upper Sunset Trail. 

Upper Sunset Trail in the foreground

This one runs along the spine of some rugged foothills, but is equally as tough as the main Franklin range. Rocks protrude up from the ridge making running nearly impossible. This direction (N. to S.) doesn’t have as much climbing, but the descents are steep and treacherous where you may need your hands in spots. Trekking poles would be very useful here, but did I bring mine? NO! Did I learn my lesson? I hope so. This section is only a mile and a half or so, but we do it twice on each loop at the beginning (heading N.) and at the end (going S.).

Upper Sunset

I make it into the finish line having completed my first 33 mile loop in a bit more than 10 hours. I change into a dry shirt and get my headlamp out of my drop bag. I grab a few mandarines, some potatoes and a bag of plantain chips and stuff them in my pack for later. I’m out of the aid station and back on the trail in about 10 minutes.

I trudge up the Upper Sunset again and reach a steep rocky esscarpment that requires hands and a few footholds to climb up to reach the trail. It was easy this morning when my legs were fresh, but not so much now. Some runners are coming down as I go up and one guy comes bounding up past me like a mule deer. What Gives? I think to myself and then remember that this is also a relay race and this guy is just starting his first loop. Still!  Who runs up Upper Sunset like that? What’s the hurry? There’s plenty of opportunity to destroy your quads later in the race.

View from Upper Sunset looking NW  

Anyway, I make it back over to the Pavilion and run down Big Bertha, a wide dirt road that leads to the lower trail system in the park. 100 milers have to turn right and do the Schaeffer Shuffle loop that is very steep and technical in places. I relish the fact that the 100K course skips this beast, one of my least favorite trails in the park. Eventually I slog up Lower Sunset again, having just completed a 2.5 mile loop and reach “The Triangle”. Even though I will continue straight here, I first have to turn left and climb a quarter mile up to the Pavilion Aid Station to check in. Lower Sunset is a pleasant run with rolling hills, some smooth trail sections and some rugged exposed rock that resembles lava. The sun wanes as I run and I have to switch on my headlamp. It’s hard at first until my eyes adjust to the artificial light on the trail. It makes me feel a little dizzy and I have to concentrate on keeping my eyes fixed directly in front of me. 

Mammoth Rock, part of S. Franklin Peak

Soon I make it back to the start/finish area having completed eight miles of loop two. I don’t waist any time and get out of there quickly. I cross the paved park road where it’s really dark and a man says, “Don’t miss the turn; a guy went two miles out of his way.” Nothing like getting a few bonus miles. I chuckle and think to myself, I know this course like the back of hand. Well, in just a few short minutes I forgot all about it, wasn’t paying attention and realized that I missed the turn! At least I didn’t go very far out of my way before figuring out my mistake.

I walk up the mountain and reach the scree field that leads to Cottonwood Spring. My legs are like rubber and I’m dreading this, the steepest pitch of the course. I slowly pick my way across the Legos as the rocks shift causing my ankles to roll. Trekking poles! I have to stop frequently to catch my breath and then I scramble up to the spring. A guy is resting on the bench so I jokingly ask, “Seen any mountain lions up here?” He replies, “not yet.” So I say, “How about zombie’s?” “Right here”, he replies. Indeed it’s getting late and I really feel like the walking dead right now. The climb to the ridge is steep and slippery with loose gravel. I stop frequently to rest. Having some trekking poles to lean on would be really nice about now!

The beloved scree field to Cottonwood

I finally make the ridge and the view is amazing and well worth the effort. Millions of tiny lights from the city far below extend all the way to the horizon like an immense galaxy. Feeling inspired, I run down to the Mundy’s aid station and begin my second climb to the peak. I know if I can get this ascent behind me, it will be mostly smooth sailing to the finish. I look up to check out the moon and stars and notice that clouds are dissipating while the wind is dying down. It’s turning out to be a pleasant night, but I’m getting drowsy now. 

NE El Paso, TX

I focus on the beautiful city lights below and keep a slow steady plod upwards. Some runners are coming down so I get out of their way as they controlled-fall down the mountain towards me. Time passes quickly and I finally, after much sweat and toil, make the summit. The view is otherworldly with an ocean of lights below that make up the El Paso - Juarez Borderplex; one city flowing into the other. I enjoy the view for a short while and head down. 

S. Franklin Peak, El Paso and Juarez

The descent is even trickier in the dark, but at least there are a lot of protruding rock gardens to keep me alert. I stumble my way down again and reach the runnable part. I go pretty fast down to the tin mines, but then time seems to stand still. I work my way around the mountain range doing a sort of old man shuffle. My pace has really slowed. I’m very tired at this point and run down a steep windy trail into an arroyo where I stumble out of control. It’s completely dark and I can’t see where to put my feet to try to catch my fall. One bad step leads to another and my foot pushes off a tall rock then my other foot catches another rock, then I do a back step bouncing off another rock that causes me to propel forward then I trip again, do a Dosey Doe, the Western Dip, a Quad-Rocker, ending on a Hitch and Giddy-Up into some vegetation. Well, this ain’t called the Lone Star Hundred for nothin’ Ya’ll! I don’t know how in the world I didn’t end up in a cactus or some shin dagger, but I didn’t. I checked myself out to make sure I was still in one piece and got up and on my way. That could have really ruined my night.

I make it around to the West side and do the zombie death march on Tommy’s Revenge all the while dreading the treacherous Upper Sunset to the finish line. The climb up isn’t so bad, but the descents on trashed legs are awful. If only I had brought my poles! My legs are so weak that they can barely hold my weight as I try to step down the blocks of rock. I can see the finish tent and lights below and can hear the faint sound of cheering.

TRoT takes great photos, included in the price of ad-misery 
(Photo: Trail Racing Over Texas)

Near the finish, there are softball-sized round rock filled gullies for a “trail”. My foot hits one of these and rolls out from under me as I fall on my ass. I’ve been going for almost 24 hours at this point and have had enough of the Franklin Mountains. I continue stumbling grouchily and, after a “Jesus Christ!” and a few “F-bombs”, I finally make it down and into the finish area. 23:45 and 65 miles later I get my 100K finisher’s buckle and it feels really good! TRoT did an amazing job and all the volunteers were top notch. There was all manner of badass-ery on the mountain this week with many runners finishing the Franklin 200 mile and 200K races as well as the Lone Star 100 mile and 100K. Congratulations runners and thanks to Cara and Maddie for taking good care of me. 

See you on the trail.