KNOHPIAD FKTBM!

On top of Black Mesa, Oklahoma's high point.

Photos

Strava Oklahoma
Relive Oklahoma

Strava Kansas

Strava Nebraska

Now let's try something really different.

The last two weekends I met my adventure partners at 1:30 a.m. and 3:30 a.m. and we did long, tiring, cold 14ers. On both of those trips I went with really strong partners (Homie, Wes, and Derek on Culebra and Homie and Danny on Antero) and really benefited from their help. But it was time to up the ante, from a single peak in a single state, to three peaks in three states!

These aren’t just random peaks either, but state highpoints. What’s more we wanted to do it in a calendar day from our houses and none of the peaks were even in Colorado! Impossible, right? Well, no, if, like I did with the winter 14ers, you pick the right partners. This adventure would involve nearly 1000 miles of driving, so I needed a car and a driver. Enter Mark Oveson.

Mark owns a 2002 BMW M5 - the same car that was used to set the record for driving across the entire United Sates (since broken) in 31 hours, averaging nearly 100 mph for the entire trip. Installed in Mark’s car is a Valentine V1 radar detector and a Laser Interceptor laser jammer. Supplementing this hardware, he ran the Escort iPhone app which tracks speed traps in real time. All this equipment is useless, though, without a motivated driver. Mark was motivated.

Our most essential (and pretty much only) piece of equipment: the M5.

Six months ago, Mark gave up on his right ankle. Eighteen months of antibiotics post surgery didn’t save his cartilage and he had the ankle fused, effectively ending his quite successful career as an ultrarunner. He had his ankle fused in September and he won’t run again. This limited what adventures we could do together. Turns out, his ankle still worked well enough to handle the pedals in his Bimmer (pronounced "Beamer").

The peaks we were after might seem less impressive than my previous weekends, but this was the only weekend where I regretted leaving my helmet behind. Speeding through the inky blackness of eastern Colorado at over 100 miles per hour had me thinking we should be dressed more like a NASCAR racer than a mountain climber. I wasn’t dressed as a mountain climber either, though. I was in my pajamas.

Highpoints around Colorado. I've now done them all. The three eastern ones are the KNOHPIAD.

So, what peaks? Our first was Black Mesa in Oklahoma. After a 325-mile drive down to the trailhead we’d embark on our longest trek of the day: 8.6 miles and nearly 800 feet of climbing. Next up is the precipitous and ominous Mount Sunflower in Kansas. We’d finish up with awesome 360-degree views afforded by Panorama Point in Nebraska. All of these “mountains” were located very close to the Colorado border, so our adventure amounted to a circumnavigation of eastern Colorado.

In order to fit this into a calendar day, I calculated we needed to start at 2 a.m. Mark immediately chopped an hour off the total driving time and we met at 3 a.m. and were rolling by 3:06. We had a full tank of gas, a cooler full of drinks. It was dark. We pulled on our sunglasses and hit it.

Mario Andretti's long lost brother.

In the first two hours, we covered over 160 miles. Surprisingly, we followed another car for a good portion of the drive from Denver to Colorado Springs. Mark remarked at one time about this guy, “He’s absolutely fearless. I’m impressed. He must drive this route often at this time of night.” Our laser jammer went off a number of times, most of the time it appeared to be a false positive, but once it warned us of a cop coming straight at us. Derek and I were both impressed how well that worked. Mark explained to me that you never want to JTG a cop. That stands for Jam-To-Gun and means you don’t want to let the cop know he’s been jammed. Ideally, you get warned early, you slow down, turn off the jammer, and let the cop get your now-legal speed. Then turn on the jammer and drop the hammer.

Derek pacing himself for the night driving on the way back. Oops! He can't drive a stick. Dang. Bad parents, clearly.

I dropped the ball on navigation and when Black Mesa Preserve came up on Google Maps, we just headed that way. When we got close I read our guidebook description from the town of Kenton…which we didn’t quite hit. I did get a bit confused with the directions here, but the signage was all directing us to the Preserve and when we got there, it wasn’t the right place. Some helpful guys directed us back the way we came and now the directions in the book made complete sense. We lost 30 minutes here, but more importantly we wasted some gas. This would cause us some stress later.

The road signs here all face south. Our 80 mph speed when headed the other way may have also been a contributing factor, but the trailhead was very clearly marked as we headed back to the north. We pulled into the small dirt lot and Mark swung into action. In 5 minutes he had used the bathroom, pulled on his tiny pack, and was off down the trail. Derek and I took another ten minutes or so to get ready. Mark took off early because of his limited mobility.

Surprisingly nice hiking on Black Mesa.

I decided to run the trail until I caught up to Mark, so that I could chat with him. Derek didn’t want to run with me, probably due to his knee, but he wasn’t saying. Maybe he was still too sleepy for conversation. It took me 1.3 miles to catch Mark, who is obviously still a fast walker. The trail is nearly flat for the first two miles and then it climbs 775 feet up to the top of the mesa over the third mile and then another mile to the high point, which is marked with an impressive obelisk. Derek caught us with a half mile to go. He’s an even faster walker.

Derek atop the true high point of Oklahoma. I wonder how many highpointers cheat and just touch the marker...

We took some photos and even had Derek climb up onto my thigh and then shoulders so that he could sit on top of the marker. Mark celebrated the high point (not summit, though, as the top of the Black Mesa is actually in New Mexico, though it is pretty dang flat up there), by giving each us our own ziplock of four homemade marshmallow Rice Krispies treats. Yum.

Back at the car, we punched in the coordinates for the nearest gas station, which was in Boise City. Mark’s computer said we had 30 miles of range left. The gas station was 40 miles away. Mark slowed below the speed limit for the only time during the entire trip to milk as many miles out of the rapidly drying gas tank. The computer’s range readout went to 3 miles with 13 miles to go. We started calculating how long it would take me to run to town, get the gas, and wrangle a ride back to the car. The readout went blank with still nine miles to go. We were sensitive to any perceived change in the car’s velocity. With three miles to go, it would only be a minor inconvenience. By the time we pulled into the Toot ’n Tote’em for some high-octane petrol and some world-famous hotdogs, we knew that the M5 can go at least ten miles further than its computer thinks it can.

Glorious Mount Sunflower. Ah, the vistas from atop this "mountain."

Mark’s M5 is chip-limited to 165 mph, though he hasn’t tested it.The best he’s done was 149 mph on I-70. We hit a new top speed for the trip when we headed north on 287 out of Boise City. Mark had promised the M5 that if it got us to the gas station before running dry, he’d let it go fast again and immediately delivered, to the tune of 121, 132, 139. Did I mention that Mark was motivated? Having the right partners makes all the difference. Nowadays my only contribution is thinking up the adventures. Then I recruit partners and help me achieve it.

Mark's Escort app. Derek's in the back watching a movie and I'm writing this blog. I mean it's only 129 mph.

The drive to Mount Sunflower wasn’t nearly as arduous as it sounds. Thinking back on it now, I don’t even remember how many switchbacks were involved. Mark drove so smoothly it seemed,  at the time, like none. We parked at respectful distance from this hallowed ground and weaved our way, on foot, through the cow pies to the very summit. I think the word “spectacular” isn’t overstating things, but, for perspective, I think an Egg McMuffin is a sublime breakfast sandwich.

After crafting a suitable Strava track, we bid farewell to this solitary monarch, jutting so majestically out of the Kansas ranch land. We folded ourselves back into the M5 and once again unleashed the Kraken. It was on this next stretch of road where Mark set his personal record of 151 mph. Up a hill. On a two-lane road. A bit after this a road sign indicated a curving 90-degree turn ahead. Mark was approaching at 90 mph. I wasn’t overly concerned, but did say, “Mark, turn coming up.” He said, “Oh, so you want me to speed up?” We exited the turn at 98 mph.

Now we're talking. This got everyone's attention.

Mark was pumped up after his 151 mph record, but he didn’t want to repeat it. He proclaimed, “Under 100 mph from here on out.” Seconds after he said this, I saw that we hit 101 mph and I say so. He responds, “Oops, that was by accident.” A bit later we went into another one of those sweeping 90-degree turns at 98 mph. Clearly he had backed off considerably. Not!

Nebraska's Panorama Point

Finding Panorama Point was a definite low point on the trip. Our light was fading fast and our Google-Map directions were faulty, telling us to turn on non-existent roads. We did not pull a Michael Scott and drive into the fence, though. We continued north and Google re-routed us onto the roads from our guidebook, which started from I-80 to our north. These worked fine and finally found a sign saying the highpoint was near and to pay $3/person. We could have easily avoided this payment, but we made it as requested. We proceeded down a dirt road with a bit of a crown. Too much crown for the M5, slung about four inches off the ground, but Mark didn’t seem concerned with a bit of scraping.

It was cold and windy here, to be expected at a nose-bleeding altitude of 5,424 feet. I know this because I sometimes gets nose bleeds at home too, which is almost exactly this height. We took some photos and looked around and then hopped back in the car. A half-mile away Mark remembered that we didn’t get a Strava track. Ack! Mark turned off traction control, punched the 400-hp V8, and we spun a neat 180 degrees. Back at the highpoint, while Derek stayed in the car (he forgot his watch), Mark and I walked around in circles until our phones registered a tenth of a mile. This is mountain climbing at its finest!

Just in the nick of time. I mean, who would go highpointing at night? That's when we go cow tipping!

We turned our backs on Nebraska and were soon back in Colorado, speeding our way towards home. I took the wheel for the final 80 minutes to spell our MVP. His job was done and the IAD part of our adventure was in the bag. We arrived back at our start at 8:03 p.m. completing the FKTBM (Fastest Known Time By Me) in 16h57m.



This was my first real experience with high pointing. I guess I’m a high pointer now. Crossing that line is sort of like joining AARP for a climber. I’ve now done both, but, dammit, I’m still not retired. Probably this blog entry will get a lot of attention and I’ll soon be asked to speak all across the country. Though probably not at the high pointers club, since I’ve only done 14.

Enjoying the panorama at Nebraska's Point. This captures the true essence of highpointing...

When Derek told one of his friends he was going to do this, the friend shook his head and said, “You’ve done some crazy things in the past, but this…this?” I’m not even sure how to characterize it myself. It was more of a Cannonball Run than even a hiking trip. We definitely contributed a bit to global warming and since the high on Monday is supposed to be just twenty degrees…you’re welcome.

Our SPOT Track:

In case it isn't obvious KNOHPIAD stands for Kansas Nebraska Oklahoma High Points In A Day.