The Sopris Challenge. Ever heard of it?
I’d tried it once before. Arriving at the top of the extremely loose, scree-covered false summit of Mount Sopris, I found I shared the resting spot with a couple of teenage hikers. They asked when and where I had started.
I pointed toward the town of Carbondale, at the valley floor. “Town, at 6 this morning.”
“Why would you do that? Want a candy bar?”
I’d tried it once before. Arriving at the top of the extremely loose, scree-covered false summit of Mount Sopris, I found I shared the resting spot with a couple of teenage hikers. They asked when and where I had started.
I pointed toward the town of Carbondale, at the valley floor. “Town, at 6 this morning.”
“Why would you do that? Want a candy bar?”
I told them it I did want a candy bar, and that I was doing the Sopris Challenge.
“Never heard of it.”
I ate the proffered candy bar as I explained the challenge to them. Their unfiltered reactions pulled on the strings of my reason, eventually mutating into the action of turning around a mile shy of reaching the true summit. A decision that would nag at me for the next 8 years.
Mount Sopris is the Mona Lisa of mountains. No matter where you stand in the Roaring Fork Valley, high or low, the mountain’s gaze is always on you. 10 years ago, freshly arrived to the town of Carbondale, CO, I was working a shift at the local running shop when the owner, Brion After, started in about the Sopris Challenge -- a run from town, sitting at an elevation of 6,181 ft to the summit, standing at 12,953 ft. After explaining it to me, I asked him for more details. Who’s done it? How long is it? What do people cover that distance in? He had no answers.
In recent years, many locals have created an annual Sopris Challenge combining biking, skinning and skiing. I’ve even heard of a few locals creating a challenge comprised of biking, hiking, and then floating the river back down to town. But no one seemed dumb enough to run the damn thing.
“Never heard of it.”
I ate the proffered candy bar as I explained the challenge to them. Their unfiltered reactions pulled on the strings of my reason, eventually mutating into the action of turning around a mile shy of reaching the true summit. A decision that would nag at me for the next 8 years.
Mount Sopris is the Mona Lisa of mountains. No matter where you stand in the Roaring Fork Valley, high or low, the mountain’s gaze is always on you. 10 years ago, freshly arrived to the town of Carbondale, CO, I was working a shift at the local running shop when the owner, Brion After, started in about the Sopris Challenge -- a run from town, sitting at an elevation of 6,181 ft to the summit, standing at 12,953 ft. After explaining it to me, I asked him for more details. Who’s done it? How long is it? What do people cover that distance in? He had no answers.
In recent years, many locals have created an annual Sopris Challenge combining biking, skinning and skiing. I’ve even heard of a few locals creating a challenge comprised of biking, hiking, and then floating the river back down to town. But no one seemed dumb enough to run the damn thing.
8 years after my last attempt, I
find myself sitting on the false summit again thinking about turning around. Knowing
I might again succumb to the temptation of turning back early, I recruited the
help of two friends to pace me through the mountain section of the run. My good friend Morgan Neely met me 11 miles
in at the Thomas Lakes Trailhead in order to ensure I made it to the summit of
Sopris. I watch as he climbs up the rise and sits down beside me.
“Last time I turned around here….do you have a candy bar?”
“I’ve got a coke you can have, but I’m not giving it to you unless you make the summit.”
The summit is a long, slow grind and another 40+ minutes round trip back to the false summit. The ridge is anything but fast, comprised of mostly un-runnable, loose talus fields and craggy ledges. At the summit, I have roughly 7,000 ft in 17-18 miles in the bank and nowhere to go but back down. Looking down the ridge toward home, I start feeling a euphoria about possibly accomplishing something I’d previously failed.
Leaving the summit and beginning our downward trajectory, I keep an eye out for my friend Jeff Stephens, who has promised to meet up with us at the false summit to pace me back to the trailhead. After scree-surfing the last pitch to tree line, we are met with the sound of George Michael blasting from lower on the trail. Soon we run into the source-- Stephens laying sprawled on the tundra with his iPhone on his chest. He pops up and immediately sets a hard lead pace that I lock onto.
With Sopris behind, Stephens and Neely leave me to the solitary task of the final 11 miles. This last leg of the challenge is exposed dirt road and pavement back to town. The cumulative fatigue of pounding nearly 7,000 ft downhill starts to take its toll along with the 95 degree heat and I suffer a meltdown 2 miles from the end. Hopping a fence to lay down in a farmer’s field among his water sprinklers, I look up to the heavens and promise myself I’ll never do this again.
“Last time I turned around here….do you have a candy bar?”
“I’ve got a coke you can have, but I’m not giving it to you unless you make the summit.”
The summit is a long, slow grind and another 40+ minutes round trip back to the false summit. The ridge is anything but fast, comprised of mostly un-runnable, loose talus fields and craggy ledges. At the summit, I have roughly 7,000 ft in 17-18 miles in the bank and nowhere to go but back down. Looking down the ridge toward home, I start feeling a euphoria about possibly accomplishing something I’d previously failed.
Leaving the summit and beginning our downward trajectory, I keep an eye out for my friend Jeff Stephens, who has promised to meet up with us at the false summit to pace me back to the trailhead. After scree-surfing the last pitch to tree line, we are met with the sound of George Michael blasting from lower on the trail. Soon we run into the source-- Stephens laying sprawled on the tundra with his iPhone on his chest. He pops up and immediately sets a hard lead pace that I lock onto.
With Sopris behind, Stephens and Neely leave me to the solitary task of the final 11 miles. This last leg of the challenge is exposed dirt road and pavement back to town. The cumulative fatigue of pounding nearly 7,000 ft downhill starts to take its toll along with the 95 degree heat and I suffer a meltdown 2 miles from the end. Hopping a fence to lay down in a farmer’s field among his water sprinklers, I look up to the heavens and promise myself I’ll never do this again.
I round the final turn and see Sopris Park and a makeshift finish line of caution tape and votive candles. Neely, Stephens, and my pal Jeff Colt cheer me in along with a bunch of park workers.
After blasting me with silly string, Morgan points to the workers, “That’s the Town of Carbondale Public Works Department.”
“Parks and Rec! We’re Parks and Rec!”
Jeff Colt congratulates me and then follows up with, “I’ve never heard of the Sopris Challenge”.
Apparently he wasn’t alone. Neither had the Parks and Rec Department. No one I’ve told since has any clue what I am talking about when I tell them I ran the Sopris Challenge…..I’m beginning to think Brion was trying to pull some sadistic joke on me. Is this challenge even a thing?
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*The Sopris Challenge starts at Sopris Park in Carbondale, CO. Take whatever roads you want out of town to the Prince Creek turnoff. Take either the road or Prince Creek Trail to the Thomas Lakes Trailhead. Take the trail to the first real summit of Mount Sopris and then repeat your route back to the park. It is roughly 36 miles and 7,000~ ft of gain.
