Full Train 40 miles
Dana Miller    8:39
Grizz Randall    8:42
John Moellmer  10:00
Chip Woodland,CO 11:50
Irv Nielsen  11:50

Hop Rim Train  30 Miles
Kathie Utley
Linda Wahlquist

Hop Cat Train  23 Miles
Stephen Utley

Hop Train  15 Miles
Joan Moellmer

Rim Train 15 Miles
Alisa Moellmer
Greg Moellmer
Betty Ann Woodland,CO

   The “train”, bound for glory, departed at 6am from Lee Pass heading for LaVerkin Creek.  The “Fast Eagle” engines, Grizz, and Sand&Guts, were last seen just after the LaVerkin Creek crossing chugging up the hills at a speedy clip.  The “Heavy Buffalo” engines, Chip and Irv, pulled the cabooses at a somewhat reduced cruising speed huffing and puffing up that long climb, “Chu, chu, chu, chu…….chu, chu, chu, chu…..wooooo…….wooooo…..”   Venting steam in-between was Prince Many Dots and Camel.  The first 7 miles went by pleasant in the cool morning air.   No engines overheated and the wheels were rolling smoothly along the tracks.  Kathie, Linda (Hooper), and Joan cruised along bemused by the noisy male machinery clanking down the rail ahead.  Black Ravens came out to investigate but shaking their beaks flew back to their aeries in disappointment.
    The Kolob mountain domes soar above covered in desert varnish, giant, immense beds of Navajo Sandstone deposited as sand dunes in some ancient sinking desert.  Seawater lime seeped down into their depths cementing them together.  They are magnificent, incredible, and any other superlative you can think of.  A timeless spirit wafts through this land, sifting through the canyons, and healing the troubled heart.
   Breathless with awe, the travelers drove into Hop Valley where massive rock is seemingly thrust aside as if Moses split it apart like water.  Red cliffs rose on both sides and a shallow stream meandered in the valley bottom.  A sacred place, a happy place, a place for feet to prance and sing of wonder.
     Sam Hill returned again this year to man the aid stations and we recruited Tom Woodward, too.  Sam is a neighbor of Stephen in Hurricane as is Tom.  Tom was a ham radio guy in the early days of the Wasatch 100.  Doug Wahlquist (Wally) came down with a sore back so opted to help with the aid station duties, too.  Doug and Tom go way back with Stephen 40 years ago when they were all doing Ski Patrol duty up at Solitude.  Also, helping the runners was Betty Ann, Chip’s wife, who later joined Kathie and Hooper on the Rim Train Segment.  These group runs would have been much worse without their assistance, so, bravo, gentlemen.  We are very appreciative of your help.
   Tom and Betty Ann were waiting for Chip and I at the Hop Valley trailhead aid station.  I changed shoes and socks and put on a clean shirt.  A refill of water and ice in my water bag, a wetting down of bandanas to keep my head and neck wet, and the mandatory consumption of cookies and chips completed my task list.  The faster runners hit that first checkpoint in 3 hours.  The rest of us came in anywhere from 4 to 6 hours depending on how much walking or running we did. As we left the trailhead, I told Tom we would be about 2 and ½ hours.  Well, yeah, that would be a good prediction if it was going to stay cool but the sun had started pushing heat waves out and by the time the next 5 miles had gone by, it was cooking away in the upper 90’s.  Half a mile from the trailhead, Chip and I had just passed some hikers and we were running along a grassy trail oblivious to all but the open trail ahead.  All at once, a stampeding buffalo tried to run me over by trying to crawl up my back.  It was Chip.   Then I heard the distinctive rattle behind us to the left.  Snake, pit viper, or rattlesnake, whatever you call it, it makes the flesh creep and the legs spring away.  The feisty serpent is often symbolic of many things in human culture: wisdom [Biblical: "be ye therefore wise as serpents "Matt 10:16]; subtlety…[Biblical: " Now the serpent was more subtle than an beast of the field" Gen. 3:1];  eternity: forming a circle with tail in mouth; renovation and resurrection: the old becomes young [skin shedding]; guardian spirits: Greek and Roman temple altars.  In this case, however, I would say the snake was symbolic of excitement (as in, “I wet my pants in excitement!”).  Throwing a few small sticks its way to spook it away from the trail did no good at all, therefore, a hasty forward retreat was in order.  After our little climb up to the notch on our way to Wildcat Canyon, the heat started really beating down on us.  The running I did in this section last year seemed impossible now.  Running slightly uphill in temperatures 40 to 50 degrees above what Chip and I had encountered in Vail and Salt Lake over the last month became much lower on our priority list.  So, it took 3 hours to go that middle section but we weren’t quite train wrecked yet.  Again, I changed shoes, emptied out the sand in my socks, restocked with water and food plus an extra diluted Gatorade bottle and chowed down some chips and cookies.  I really didn’t eat much for me on this run.  I think the heat really inhibited my appetite.  Stephen was stopping at Lava Point and I often wished after leaving there that I had been smart enough to drop out there.
   The rim started off with running.  Chip and I scooted along the trail and ran most of the way to Potato Hollow.  We were grateful for some wind at this point to make running possible.  What is with that annoying sign by the pond in Potato Hollow? It says 4 miles to Lava Point.  No way, man.  We took an hour and a half to go that supposed 4 miles and my guess it is more like 5 ½.  Grrrrrr. It was hot, hot, hot and the engines were starting to get derailed at this point.  Kathie, Hooper, Betty Ann had left 90 minutes ahead of us on this section with John catching Greg and Alisa and walking in with them. Meanwhile, Dana and Grizz had run together most of the way and Dana finally danced his train wheels down to the Grotto in 8:39 with Grizz just behind in 8:42.  Chip and I plugged and chugged away the distance left taking a brief break after dropping down Telegraph Canyon to dump sand and tighten the wheels.  I threw a little coal in the boiler to stoke the “fire”, and I do mean fire.  I ate one more GU and handful of oily nuts and salty rice crackers.  Down the cement bumpy trail we went, past the “Native American” Paintbrush, and “Repressed Native American Female” bushes.  We noticed the incredible striations in the rock sometimes horizontal, sometimes vertical, and most often curved sweeping around corners at strange angles.
   Coming down off Angels Landing on the steep switchbacks is painful and difficult.  Ouch!  After awhile Chip and I passed a strange looking young and very thin hiker with a big brim hat and big brown leather boots.  Obviously, running by him was a form of taunting.  He began to skip behind us.  I didn’t know whether to be offended or amused.  I choose the later and complimented him, “Way to go dude.  Keep up the good work,” I said with a cheery smile.  He replied, “Skipping is the most efficient way to go downhill.”  Well, my first thought was that “Skippy” didn’t skip until passed by runners and skipping was out of the question at mile 38 or so.  It was a funny interlude.   All of sudden coming around one of the last switch backs, we saw a woman walking painfully downhill in stocking feet.  My running buddy, Chip, stopped right next to her.  It was Betty Ann with some blisters the size of Colorado on her feet.   We walked in with her and across the last bridge exchanging information and putting up with the Zion Bus Shuttle service made it back to the Visitor Center and walked to the Imax Super Screen theatre.  Grizz reports a close call with nausea on the roly-poly back bus but escaped making a spectacle of himself barely.   Hooper was killing time waiting  for us by Dana’s van but Wally was doing scout duty and missed us.  We eventually all made it back to Hurricane and a post race dinner.  Thanks again to all whom made the journey possible.  The train was back in station and the engines were purring.  A few sore muscle days were yet to be endured but all is well in Zion.