Mt. Humphreys Trip Report

From the parking lot of Arizona Snowbowl, just outside of Flagstaff, Mt. Humphreys, all 12,633 feet of it, looked tame enough.

Being October, the top portion of the mountain had begun to be coated in ice crystals. Driving to the trailhead, Sarah and I were a little nervous when we first saw evidence of frost high on the mountain. Were we prepared for today? Did we pack enough warm clothing and food?

One thing that concerned me from the start was the wind. Driving up from Scottsdale, there were a couple of sections along Highway 17 that were extremely windy. Closer to Flagstaff, we actually saw a sign over the highway that indicated a wind advisory. I have no idea just how strong the wind was, but it was a factor as you’ll see later.

After a good, old fashioned farmer’s breakfast, we made our way to Snowbowl. The parking lot was fairly full for this late in the hiking season. Ski season was still a few months away, but there was a good crowd at the base.

We strapped on our packs and made our way across the base of the ski hill, and into the woods. Protected by aspen and pine trees, we enjoyed winding through the forest, walking on a carpet of aspen leaves.

There was a fair amount of hiker traffic on the lower portion of the trail. After hiking for more than an hour, we neared the treeline. At an elevation around 11,500 feet, we passed one guy who was unpacking some gear near a sign that told us of our current elevation and said that no camping was allowed above this elevation.

Onward and upward we went. It was also at this section of the trail where we took a turn and began our traverse up to the ridgeline. This perspective gave us an amazing view into one of the upper runs of Snowbowl, along with what I perceived to be prime hike and ski opportunities. We were midway across the span of a beautiful bowl; this slope had a fantastic constant slope and judging from the wind direction, probably filled up nicely with powder. I found myself daydreaming about carving up some freshies on a clear, cloudless day, like the one we were currently enjoying.

As we made that turn to make a beeline for the ridge, I spotted a couple of guys who appeared to be sprinting downhill toward us. They were still quite far from us on the trail, so they must have been really moving.

When we finally crossed paths with this duo, it became apparent why they were moving so fast. Donned in no more than shorts, sweatshirts and stocking caps, these guys had braved the summit.

“You guys get to the top?” I asked.

“Yeah,” one said with a hard exhale.

It was the kind of exhale usually reserved for when one is numb with cold.

“How’s the wind up there?” I asked.

“It’s pretty bad,” answered one nearly frozen hiker.

“Brutal,” said the other.

After exchanging smiles, we parted ways.

“What were they thinking?” is what I remember Sarah saying, followed something about how crazy they were.

After we continued on, I turned to Sarah, and told her that I really wanted to say to the guys, “bet you want my pants, don’tcha?”

After a short but steep section, we reached the saddle where a small group of hikers sat sheltered out of the wind munching on snacks. We decided to keep going.

It was also about this time when the force of the wind became apparent. I don’t know exactly how hard it was blowing, but it was a good, solid, steady wind. I had Sarah grab my hat out of the bottom of my pack, and we continued on.

At close to 12,000 feet, we also started to feel the effects of the thin air. I felt slightly dizzy and a little clumsy, but I was thinking very clearly. I felt sharp, despite the sound of the howling wind.

After slowing trekking along the ridge for a while, we came to a spot where the trail curled down off of the ridge and out of the wind. Sarah was commenting on how cold her hands were, so I suggested we peel off out of the wind.

Sheltered from the constant wind, we soaked in the sun. We had a gorgeous view looking down into a massive valley with a giant grove of aspen trees at the bottom. With a few thin clouds racing overhead, I thought to myself that you couldn’t ask for a more spectacular day.

Sarah stripped off her gloves. It turns out that they were fairly tight when we started out, and after her fingers swelled from climbing, the gloves became extremely tight and were not effective in keeping her hands warm. I had a great pair of wool gloves that I offered to her. We shared a small chocolate hazelnut candy bar, before making the final push.

Sarah gave my gloves back to me. Even after telling her that she should wear them, she decided to put on her own pair. She was a little uncomfortable from the altitude too, although I didn’t really know until we were off the summit.

We strapped up again and continued our climb. After another short steady incline, we made the top. . . .only to find that we had reached the false summit. But we were really, really close. Another short traverse and a slight uphill and we were there.

Finally!

We arrived at the summit. I was feeling fantastic. The view was spectacular. And there was a small windbreak made out of rocks that you could sit in and look far off to the horizon. Sarah’s hands were bothering her again. I gave her my gloves and she sat out of the wind. I was happy to inspect the view on all sides.

I took out my camera to discover it was out of batteries. Luckily, I had my cell phone camera, so I was able to snap a few photos. I signed our names into the log book at the top, and took a few more photos, including one of my watch, indicating the elevation. Sarah took a great shot of me sitting on a pile of rocks at the summit.

We were soon joined by another couple; we took their photo at the summit, they took ours. We gathered our stuff and took off down the ridge.

Heading down was definitely faster than the trek up, but we were headed directly into the wind. We made it down the entire ridge in one shot, and got out of the wind. Twisting down through the rocks, we made it back to the saddle where we stopped for lunch.

It was about this time when I noticed I was getting a killer headache. Major league. Thinking it was dehydration, hunger, or being blasted by the cold, I ate, drank some water, and sat in the sun out of the wind.

That headache only got worse as we headed down through the trees. At one point, Sarah wanted to start jogging, but I was totally tapped, and couldn’t think of running.

We made good time getting down, and the closer we got to the trailhead, the more hikers we saw. It was pretty late in the day to be headed up the hill. I assumed that most of these hikers were just taking a walk into the aspen to enjoy the scenery.

Finally back at the car, we stripped off of our packs and out of our boots. I laid down for a few minutes.

I felt like I had a really bad hangover. I didn’t feel like eating or drinking anything because I was nauseous, and I wasn’t about to think about driving my car down off of the mountain.

Sarah informed me I had altitude sickness. I couldn’t believe it. I was in great shape, felt awesome on the way up and onto the summit. It wasn’t until much later that I started to feel ill.

Sarah drove us back toward town. On the way to Flagstaff, we stopped at a coffeeshop. She went in and got me a smalll cup of coffee, thinking that might make me feel better.

No luck. Maybe I needed food? Altitude sickness usually goes away after a short time once you get down to the elevation at which you last slept. But coming from 1,500 feet to 7,000 feet to 12,600 feet, just going back to 7,000 might not do it.

I expected to “come around” at any time, so we opted to eat dinner in Flagstaff. Sarah knew of a microbrewery that she had visited years before, so that’s where we headed.

As it turns out, Flagstaff was in full party mode. “Tour de Fat,” an event dreamed up from the folks at New Belgium Brewing who make Fat Tire Ale, was full tilt. The event includes a festival and a costume bike parade, which continues long after the festival shuts down.

Downtown was being overtaken by drunk college students on bicycles. We spotted a man dressed as President Lincoln on a tall bike. A girl in a polka dot dress on an old rusty Schwinn. I witnessed some super drunk guy basically tip over when he tried to mount his “Huffy” ten-speed.

It was chaos. And I was bummed I did not feel better. But it was well worth the walk to witness the spectacle.

How do you know you are beyond drunk? When you are walking through downtown Flagstaff in barefeet, in 50-degree weather with a basketball on your head.

Yep. I saw stuff like that.

At the brewery, my condition continued to erode. I tossed cookies in the bathroom (and I had not had a drop to drink!), and looked pretty rough. We finally sat down. Freezing, I asked for tea, instead of a beer. That was alright, but I couldn’t touch the food.

After a while we high-tailed it to the car and the drive home. Sarah drove back to Scottsdale. I started to come around once we got back to the driveway. So altitude does have a pretty short shelf-life if you can get to a low enough elevation.

Would I do it again, knowing that I could end up feeling so ill? In a second. After doing some reading, I think maybe we ascended too quickly. We made the summit in less than 3 hours, after all.

If you’re looking for a 12,000 foot peak that’s not technical to climb, I highly recommend Humphreys. The trek is spectacular.