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Perhaps the story of the mountain runners

can never be conveyed completely,

for like the vast mountain itself, the details are

numerous, varied and isolated from observation.

The narrative of this marvelous race, of the runners,

the railroad and the automobiles and

the hardships of the judges freezing at the summit.

The individual experiences of the contestants

on the trails strewn with confetti,

striving to overcome the handicap of the great distance

and each runner threading their way

through the dark woods, up past the fir and cedar

to meet the icy skirts of the mountain looming in the night,

whose summit was just beginning to herald the early dawn.

The climb? Over a mile in altitude above the snow line.

By the edge of deep crevasses and over steep icing slopes

where a collapse or single misstep

was fraught with certain death.

How could this story ever be told?

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It is the summer of 1911.

Howard Taft is President of the United States.

An airplane lands on a ship,

the USS Pennsylvania, for the first time,

the Mona Lisa is stolen from the Louvre&

and America's first mountain adventure race

is about to begin.

The race will take place in the far

northwest reaches of the United States,

in the city of Bellingham Washington,

situated on a bay in Whatcom County,

in the shadow of the North Cascades mountain range.

The city, incorporated only 8 years prior,

has a bustling population of 25,000 people.

Where pioneers still work the land.

Immigrants arrive daily to start a new life.

Businessmen look to make a name for themselves in this new city.

The regions economy is built on the timber industry

and there is a large transient population of working men.

Bellingham also has the world's largest salmon cannery.

With the number of men coming and going,

many businesses open to serve this working population.

There are saloons, brothels

Business is good.

Bellingham has another feature that most cities do not have&

A mountain, in its backyard.

Only 31-miles away as the crow flies.

Known to the Coast Salish people as "Koma Kulshan,"

Mount Baker

a 10,781-foot volcanic, glacial peak

dominates the landscape.

Named by Captain George Vancouver,

of the H.M.S Discovery

after Lt. Joseph Baker,

the first crewman to sight the icy slopes

during a mapping expedition in 1792.

Seventy-six years later, in 1868,

a climbing party led by Edmond Coleman,

an alpinist living in Victoria BC,

reaches the summit for the first recorded time,

after a two week ascent.

Five years later in 1873

the second ascent results in the first photograph

taken on the summit of Mt Baker.

This marks the dawn of mountaineering

in the North Cascades.

One of the main reasons for doing the marathons was

the idea that Mount Baker could be a national park.

The first national park was Yellowstone in 1872.

Then in 1899 Mount Rainier was made into a national park.

The people in Bellingham looking at Seattle and Mount Rainer

were really quite jealous,

they thought if Mount Rainer could be a national park,

than Mount Baker could be a national park too.

I don't know if Bellingham was searching for an identity

so much as some type of event.

And, I think the Chamber of Commerce in particular

was looking at the world fairs

and knew the value of creating

some kind of tourist destination.

Something that would be unusual,

and so it had to be rather sensational,

and that's how the marathon,

Mount Baker Marathon really fits in,

it's a crazy event.

The first race supposedly came out of an argument

as to how fast you could get from Bellingham

to the top of Mount Baker and back to Bellingham again.

The interesting question was could you do it in 24 hours?

No one had ever broken the 24 hour mark before.

Hugh Galbraith, a logger from Acme Washington,

was 19 years old at the time.

There was a little competition, or a little rivalry

between the two routes to get to reach the top of Mount Baker.

One was by way of Glacier,

and the other by way of the Deming trail they called it,

by the Heisler ranch.

And the rivalry got quite keen and so...

they got to talking about start having a race up there

and see which side could get a man up to the top

and back the quickest.

Fifty-three year-old attorney and avid outdoorsmen,

Arthur J. Craven,

is co-founder and first elected president

of the newly formed Mount Baker Club.

He approaches the Chamber of Commerce

with an idea to promote the mountain.

A Race.

The Mount Baker club and the Chamber of Commerce

come together to develop an idea to exploit the mountain.

They decide that they need to have a trail system,

a road and a lodge eventually.

And, they want to bring tourism into the area

they really wanted to exploit the mountain

for as mush as they can get out of it.

But, they needed to have a gimmick, a plan or

something in order to entice people.

So, they looked at the rivalry that was going on

at the time between the townships of Deming and Glacier

of which would be the gateway to the mountain.

And with that idea they came up with the concept

of the first Mount Baker Marathon race.

The 24-hour event will start in downtown Bellingham at 10p.m.

in front of the Chamber of Commerce.

It will pit a special train carrying runners

44-miles to the town of Glacier,

against modified automobiles carrying runners

25 miles to Heisler's ranch,

located at the trailhead just beyond Deming.

They then depart from their two modes of transportation

and race by foot to the summit.

The runners reach the snow-line at sunrise,

where they have the option to change

clothes for the final push to the summit

in a 32-mile round trip.

Many won't take the time.

On the Glacier route

the contestants run 28 miles round trip,

over steeper slopes

before reaching the saddle of the mountain,

where they merge with the Deming route for

the final 1,500 foot ascent to the summit.

The runners must check in with trail judges

at established way-points along the trail.

The race is scheduled to coincide with the full moon

to help illuminate the trails.

The runners must reach the snow-line

before the sunrise thaws the snow-pack,

or the route becomes more treacherous.

Certificates carried by the contestants

will be signed by judges at the summit,

where the runners will pause for a mandatory four-minute break

before heading back to the waiting autos or train.

They return to Bellingham and

check in at the Chamber of Commerce

with their signed certificates to

claim their place in the race.

The prize - the Herald Cup trophy...

and $100 in double-eagle gold coins.

For the winning townships - bragging rights

and to be established as the official gateway to Mount Baker

and the tourist trade that it will bring.

Thirty-nine-year-old Jack Golithon, is engineer

of the Bellingham Bay

and British Columbia Number Three Special.

The train, with its boiler stoked,

will wait for the runners two blocks from

the starting line at the Bellingham Depot.

Golithon and his crew, strip down the engine to reduce weight

and connect one passenger car behind the coal tender

to prepare for the special's run to Glacier.

The town is a hamlet of about 120 people

and a jumping off point for the mines

operating in the North Cascades.

In the early 20th century, technology

and transportation are at a turning point

and nowhere is this more evident

than on the streets of Bellingham

where horse drawn carriages and ox-carts jostle

for space with automobiles and trolleys.

Back in those days they were racing Model Ts

every place in the country.

You just couldn't break them down.

So, my grandfather took this as an opportunity

to prove that locally, and he had a group of mechanics

in his shop that volunteered to strip down those cars

and convert them to racecars.

They would take a lot of the unnecessary stuff off from them.

They would take the fenders off, they'd take the windshield off,

they would take the lights off,

so that they were light and fast.

It was kind of a clock and dagger operation,

they wouldn't let people see

what was going on with those cars.

It was pretty top-secret stuff.

His car,Betsy was named after my grandmother,

who was a fairly quiet lady,

and I think that in an attempt to make her a little happier

about Hugh involvement in all this madness,

he named his car the Betsy.

The automobiles in the marathon

will travel on all sorts of road conditions.

In the city they travel on streets

made of concrete or brick,

but by the time the autos reach

a short distance outside of town

they encounter something unique...

A plank road.

A plank road is an actual road made of lumber.

Something that Bellingham had plenty of was lumber

that they could actually make streets out of boards.

Basically, a street of slivers.

So, it wouldn't have been comfortable.

You would've hoped for some really good

shocks on your buggy.

And then eventually a couple miles outside of town

it would have run into a dirt road,

and it is dirt all the rest of the way.

And all kinds of dirt roads.

Were talking mud, ruts, rocks, all the rest.

The autos pass through Deming to reach

the trailhead at Heislers Ranch.

As you travel on the dirt road that runs through Deming

you notice that the buildings lining each side of the street

have wood facades and plank sidewalks.

It looks like a classic Wild West town.

We're going to try and nab that purse and trophy for Deming,

as we have four or five pretty good hikers,

and sort of entertain the notion,

that our town's going to be

the proud possessor of the Herald Cup.

Once official notice of the prize money is posted,

Arthur Craven and the Mount Baker Club

receive applicants from all over the region.

Not to be outdone by one another,

both Deming and Glacier post their own contestants.

Hearty young men looking for a challenge.

Some sign up to represent their townships,

others just want a diversion from their daily routine.

The runners come from many backgrounds and professions.

There are mountain men and coal miners.

Hugh Galbraith, a logger.

Frank Bottiger, tree faller.

Tom Kelly, a farmer and wrestler.

Other runners include a bedspring-maker,

a postman, a milk inspector

and an insurance salesman.

Harvey Haggard is a young mule packer from the Polson mines.

Coal miners, Joseph Frankoviz and Norman Randall.

Twenty-eight year old Clayton Wright,

a farmer and mountain guide.

John Magnusson, a timber cruiser,

and Stanley Gilday a student.

And a young logger and homesteader from Texas,

29-year-old John Turner Riddle thinks

his chances are as good as anyone's.

He was very athletic, he looked like a runner.

He made his living in the woods. He was a mountain man.

Turner and his brother- in-law, Clarence

would think nothing of walking into Bellingham

to get a 50-pound sack of flour and walk back

back home with it so that their wives could make bread.

I don't think Turner would have ran for the money,

I think that Turner would have more than likely done it

because he could.

Hugh Galbraith, and his brother Joe,

know that the one-hundred dollar prize would be a help family.

Their father, a local constable and judge,

is murdered by bandits only months before the race.

I am sure he probably read that they were

going to have it in the newspaper,

and he was very familiar with Mount Baker

having been a ranger,

he knew exactly every direction to get to the top of it.

I'm sure that he just decided when he saw that

that would be something he would enjoy doing.

He made just five dollars a month

and he rode a rickety bicycle,

apparently even without tires to Bellingham over very

rutty roads to get to high school.

Daddy graduated in 1903.

And in 1902 his high school team won the state championship.

They had the flying wedge they called it when he played.

And they all lined up in a wedge and went right through the line

until so may people were injured

that they made that not a legal play.

But he did like to watch our football games

except he did feel like they were very wimpy

and they had to wear all the padding and things,

that he did not wear when he played football.

He said it was like lawn tennis now.

The potential contestants sign up at the Mount Baker Club

as Arthur Craven extols;

Anybody with a tenth of a drop of sporting blood in him

cannot fail to enthuse over the prospect of this race.

It is going to be the most exciting event of the sort

ever pulled off on the Pacific Coast

or so far as I know in the United States.

These fine young fellas are all husky,

healthy young men, all in prime condition

and the man who wins will be entitled to all

the glory and all the honor we can accord him.

The runners soon find themselves on the front page of newspapers

and the cover of magazines;

they're the guests of honor at social functions.

These young wrestlers,

loggers and bedspring makers are...celebrities.

August 9th, 1911.

The streets throughout downtown seem deserted,

as the people and cars usually found on the avenues

congregate in front of the Chamber of Commerce

and along the race route as the hour of 10pm approaches.

All along the route, from Bellingham to the trailheads,

thousands of spectators wait for the train and autos to pass

in hopes of catching a glimpse of the runners on their

way to the summit.

For the local population at least,

they had never seen anything like it.

They never had a community celebration like this,

or a community event of this size.

Part of the attraction was these automobiles,

which were still a unique thing,

I mean, these were unusual,

people hadn't seen a lot of automobiles,

and to see them go fast, that's really even better.

This was a race that was between men and their endurance,

and also between contrivances,

I mean between the railroad and the automobile.

And the automobile was a new thing

on the scene and it was competing

with the railroad and all across the transportation fronts.

So here was an opportunity for them

to go head to head in this deal.

Fourteen runners ready themselves to

either climb into their automobiles

or dash two blocks to the Number Three Special.

The cars wait at the starting line in anticipation

of their passengers as the drivers of the Baby 40,

the Betsy, Hugh Diehl's modified Model-T, and a Buick phaeton,

don their dusters and driving goggles

in preparation for the dash over dirt and rock roads.

Gentleman, the task before you is a daunting one.

You'll climb aboard your chosen method of transportation,

to your respective trailheads in

the competing townships of Deming or Glacier,

where you will run thirty-two miles afoot

to the summit of Mount Baker and return.

May Godspeed you all!

At the drop of a hat, the race is on!

The automobiles start with a loud bang

and their unmuffled exhaust spits flames.

Frightened children clutch the skirts of their mothers.

Strong-voiced farmer lads cheer and buxom country maids shriek.

The supercharged atmosphere is intense as the cars flash past.

Just moments later,

the Glacier-bound runners board the train.

Within moments the engine hisses loudly and chugs hard.

The powerful vibration moves through the train

followed by the sound of squealing steel wheels.

The repetitive sound of the engine increases

and it becomes louder

as the train moves away faster and faster.

It passes so quickly that all that can be seen

or heard of her sounds like an echo dying away

into the darkness and distance.

---Jack Sparks, Bellingham Herald

The cars jockey for position and try to keep away

from the debris being thrown up by the lead vehicle.

Many of the cars have the floor boards removed to save weight.

The drivers and passengers use foot pegs

and leather straps to keep from falling out

as they watch the dirt, ruts,

and rocks pass under their feet.

Some cars miss corners and find themselves smashing

through cornstalks in the middle of fields.

One of the autos hits a pothole at full-speed tearing

its frame in half.

The runners, though uninjured are knocked out of the race,

it's a long walk back to Bellingham.

These people were on the edge of disaster.

During the early days of automotive industry

and the Model T days,

what you don't read much about is

all the people that were killed

on the road because the cars

didn't make it around the corner,

or they ran into each other. They were daredevils!

I don't know that they really understood

the dangers that they were putting themselves into.

I think the people that ran to

the top of Mountain Baker and back,

put themselves in more danger

than the drivers of those vehicles.

Back at the Chamber of Commerce, the crowd is eager

to hear news of the racers' progress.

As the train passes through small towns

and hamlets on the way to the trailhead,

spotters call the Chamber with their clocked times.

The train, unencumbered by its normal load,

travels at full steam at over 65 miles an hour.

At 10;27pm the first train report from Sumas comes in,

"How fast is she goin?" is the question.

An operator in Sumas replies, "I don't know,

but she's goin like hell!"

Passengers on the Number Three Special feel

as if the train is floating on air

between the rail and wheel as it

passes through Kendall and nears Glacier.

The speeding automobiles thread their way

through the woods toward Heisler's Ranch,

where trail judges wait to record their arrival times.

It is 10;54pm when Joe Galbraith,

riding in Hugh Diehl's Model-T Betsy,

reaches Heisler's Ranch and the trailhead,

almost an hour after the start of the race.

The other cars and racers are just moments behind.

In Glacier, the Special's headlamp comes into view

and the train lets out a long whistle

as it pulls into the station.

A crowd forms around the platform

as sparks fly from the Specials' brakes.

At 11 p.m. sharp, Harvey Haggard and the other runners

on the train disembark and

disappear into the darkness of the trail to the yells of,

"For the glory of Glacier boys!"

How do you know your pace when you are running up a

mountain and it's the first time you ever done it?

So, my guess is that they were trying to keep up with people,

not knowing whether or not those were people

they could really keep up with.

Because you couldn't really train

to do that race over and over again.

It's easy to know what your pace is when you are on flat ground

and your doing 26.2 miles.

It would be a lot harder to know

in that elevation on that terrain.

Some of them probably wore themselves out

before they were half way up.

These runners were quite naive in what they probably

did to get themselves ready for this great run.

Looking at the pictures can give you a feel of just

how tired some of these runners must have been.

These guys were farmers, and coal miners and loggers.

These occupations gave then the skill set that they would need

to move effectively in the mountains.

They were used to being outside.

They were used to moving over uneven terrain.

They were used to walking on logs and

moving down step slopes.

Their occupations also gave them the foundation

of physical fitness that they needed in a way that

made them competitive in the race.

I think these guys that ran the Mount Baker Marathon

were unbelievable.

I don't see how they could do it.

I don't see how they did it.

That you could do,

what is essentially a marathon up a mountain

gaining that many thousands of feet&

at night&in a storm,

it just blows my mind. I can't imagine doing it.

I think they did it the same way I do it.

They tapped into the survival instinct;

basically this primitive DNA that we all have

that we can get through tough difficult situations,

and I think that's really what sport is about.

It is what being in the mountains is all about.

It's about surviving.

I think its one of those things that

as a contestant in the race on Mount Baker,

its actually to your benefit to know less.

Because the more you know about the mountain,

probably the more worried your going to be.

On one hand you have sheer novices

going up a mountain like Mount Baker

completely unprepared, no weather forecasts,

and in many cases never having climbed

a mountain or been on a glacier

and their just going for it.

But I think what we forget, these people were pioneers.

Joe Galbraith runs nearly nonstop along the Deming trail.

At 11;39 p.m., before he crosses the Nooksack River,

Joe head to the cabin of forest ranger Carl Bell.

Bell receives him at the cabin door, helping the runner inside.

He offers him a cup of coffee

while Mrs. Bell serves up eggs and bacon.

Joe thanks the Bells for their hospitality

and requests that in fairness

all climbers on the Deming trail be

treated with equal consideration.

Mrs. Bell responds with her intent to do so,

keeping hot coffee at the ready and food prepared for

each runner as they come through.

I think, you know, that renegade aspect,

that free-formed nature that there were

no rules really, there were very few rules for this event,

makes it really true wild mountain running

As you go through,

as you get into the harder aspects of the event,

when it gets more challenging

and the physical demand becomes even harder

you actually simplify your life even more.

You simplify the task even more.

What do I need to do to keep moving forward?

What do I need to eat? What do I need to drink?

Do I stop at the ranger station and have a breakfast of

bacon and eggs and coffee?

Or, do I push through, because this guy is right on my tail,

and I think I can do without that nutrition.

Just focusing on one step at a time

and solving the questions of now

where part of the event is

allowing your mind to deal with life

and process the issues that you're going through.

But, then part of the event is the focus on the now,

and how do I get from point A to point B,

and then maybe back down to point C.

These guys probably weren thinking a lot of strategy.

They were just in the moment,

which I think is really the true aspect of the sport.

Being in the moment,

you know, running with people having a social element,

but also being kind of drawn in realizing

okay,how's my body feeling, you know.

Not worrying about other competitors,

but in the end those other competitors

help push you just a little bit further.

Days prior to the race, summit judges and trail

guards establish camps along the routes.

There is a determined effort to prevent any form of cheating,

by documenting the runners' times.

The rules allow runners to invite family members

and friends to support them at the timberline

with fresh clothes,

food and the option of running as a companion.

It is daybreak. Joe Galbraith reaches Mazama Park,

where his brother Hugh is waiting to help him

prepare for his run to the summit.

I was right in amongst the thing,

right in the middle of it.

Well, this race, we, ah, there was quite

a bunch of us camped at what was known

then as Mazama Lake, and it was right at the

edge of the snow-line going up to Mount Baker.

And, when my brother got up there that morning why,

we gave him some coffee and a little refreshment,

and the funny part of it was in that picture there at our camp,

while Joe was there his two competitors,

It just so happens they were good friends of ours,

and we were well acquainted with them.

Naturally, we would help them out all we could.

I couldn't imagine running in those boots.

I mean; the crampons we ware today are quite a bit longer.

The boots are flexible,

which will make it harder to kick into the snow.

So cold. So thin

I can't honestly imagine wearing those things up that mountain.

I can see how you can hike in these,

but to run, pretty strong.

Poor bastards; I can't imagine running 30 miles in these,

that would just be horrible.

They're probably guessing at the right way to run

a race like this.

They are doing whatever they need to do

to get up that mountain.

They're probability running some of it and walking some of it.

Stopping to get their breath now and again, to take in some fuel.

They're probably having panic attacks on the way if they

are not professional runners.

My guess is that they would get pretty scared

because the only way down is the way they came.

It's high stakes. I think that the contestants in this race

were defiantly placing themselves in harms way

if they didn't know what they were getting into,

and had no experience on a glacier.

You can run for 15 miles through the woods,

up through the foothills to the base of the glacier,

but it is very different from running a marathon

once you get to that glacier.

The runners who were going up the Deming route likely

had significantly steeper terrain.

The Deming itself is steep, and they would have to go

around a significant crevasse field.

If they go to the right, it's a half-mile to a mile.

If they went to the left they might be able to contour

up onto those slopes

and get around to the left,

which would have been faster.

And to have checked in with the judges at the Saddle,

the Deming side would have been

the more difficult side to run on.

The Deming runners,

they definitely had the short end of the stick.

The runners begin their final push

up the glacial face of the mountain to the summit,

the most strenuous and dangerous part of the race.

I am rather impressed with not only the amount of

elevation change, but that it was all in one push.

And that they're up at elevations of eight, nine,

ten thousand feet where the body starts

to experience changes because

there is less oxygen for the muscles to utilize

while they are still pushing hard

and trying to reach the summit.

The altitude isn't going to play

that big of a role in a speed ascent like this

because you're going to gain and lose that elevation quickly,

but it's an added strain for sure.

They probably did have times of physical break down,

and then at that point

you just have to rely on your resolve to carry you through.

A lot of it, how well they did had to do with what's here,

what's in their head rather than what's in their bodies.

There's a point where you give up on your expectations.

You realize you're at the end of your rope.

You're at the end of your resources,

your mind is exhausted and you surrender.

You say, whatever happens here happens,

and in that there is a release of new energy.

Humans have been always looking for a way of testing

themselves against elements, against nature.

And this was half survival, and half a race against time.

At 5;37 am, Joe Galbraith arrives on the summit

in a snowstorm with winds reaching 70 miles an hour.

Seven hours and a half hours after the hat

was dropped in downtown Bellingham.

He is surprised to find out he has just missed Harvey Haggard,

who arrived on the summit and departed back

toward Glacier just 19 minutes before.

Galbraith registers his signature in the judges' book

and Davis signs Joe's certificate carried

in an oilskin pouch around his neck.

J.W. Collins, Davis's right-hand man,

hands Galbraith a cup of hot coffee.

Joe waits at the top of Mount Baker for the mandatory

four minutes imposed by the marathon rules.

His bare arms, legs and head exposed to the elements.

At 5;41 a.m. as the judges shout words of encouragement,

Joe begins the second half of the race.

We found much to our surprise that Mr. Haggard

had already been there and gone.

So, we thought well be second in the race,

the Glacier way is going to win out.

But when we started back down, why, Joe seemed

to get a lot more life in him, a lot more pep

and when he got back down to where we were camped

and he made it right on through in flying colors

just as full of pep as when he started.

Daddy said it was a difficult race, that he was tired.

I remember one time he said right

when he was on his way down

he got down on his knees and says

"God you're going to have to help me."

You got to get a feeling how the runs going,

and you can tell if everything is going smoothly,

and its going to plan. And you got the tail wind

and you're just nailing it.

Your body rested and it feels good and you're charging.

Verses, you crash through the ice,

and then you put on track spikes and it is above freezing

and you can't get any purchase because it's all mush.

And then someone stole your stuff...

All of a sudden it starts adding up

and you're like, jeeze, you know.

My rule of thumb is three things go wrong, you run away.

Out of the 14 runners to start the race, Joe Galbraith,

John Magnuson and Turner Riddle make it down the Deming side.

Harvey Haggard and Norman Randall

make it down to the Glacier side.

The others have dropped out of the race,

many before reaching the summit.

Of these five remaining runners, only four will finish.

The runners are breaking all estimated times, catching trail

judges completely off guard as they come down the mountain.

They are dehydrated, delirious and at times incoherent.

The runners know they have reached the final leg of

the race and yet they extend themselves beyond their limits.

Something clicks. You see the reality,

whether its some one coming up behind you,

or the finish line comes into sight.

There's this other ability that takes over and

I can't imagine what they are doing knowing that

when they finish the running part of the event,

then they then have to get on a train

and get to the next finish line.

There was only one train to come back on.

What the rules said was,

the train would stay there one minute

after the first runner had arrived.

Any other runners who made it to the train within one minute

of the leader would be on board

and all be on board for the run back to Bellingham.

If you didn't get there within one minute,

well you were out of the picture

unless you could find some other way to get down.

The train left without you, and you were just stuck in Glacier.

At 9;01am, Harvey Haggard and Norman Randall

come off the trail at Glacier

traveling a 28-mile round trip to the summit of

Mount Baker in ten hours and one minute;

a feat few thought possible.

A crowd gathers when Haggard and Randall scramble

off the trail and emerge from the forest.

Randall is on Harvey's heels down

the trail but he can't keep up.

Drained of all energy, Randall is tapped out

and ends his race in Glacier as he watches

the train and Haggard depart without him.

On the other side of the mountain Galbraith

sees the trailhead in sight.

As he approaches, he borrows a verse from Sir Walter Scott's

"Highland Gathering," and makes it his own;

Speed, Molise, speed! The trail is past,

Heisler's house appears at last,

And peeps like moss grown rocks half seen,

Half hidden in the copse of green.

There may'st thou rest, thy labor done,

Hugh Diehl and "Betsy" shall speed thee on.

Joe arrives at Heisler's Ranch at 9;40 am

after a 32-mile round trip to the summit.

Almost 12 hours exactly from the time he left Bellingham.

With an overcoat and goggles for the trip, he climbs in Betsy,

and speeds through Deming for Bellingham and the finish line

Galbraith will later say;

it was the most terrifying ride of his life.

Haggard is in first place aboard the Number Three Special.

His team lifts him onto a makeshift table,

strips him of his soiled clothes,

and begins rubbing him down.

Golithon, with the throttle wide open,

is speeding down the rails at 65-miles an hours,

rounds a bend and suddenly sees a big red bull

standing on the track.

With only seconds to react,

he pulls on the whistle cord to warn his passengers.

In the rear carriage car,

Haggard hears that whistle scream...

and everything goes topsy-turvy.

Haggard, still undressed, emerges from the wreckage.

I am alright, but I am afraid I have lost the race.

The conductor attaches a phone to the train's private line,

and calls ahead to Maple Falls

asking for a saddle horse to be made ready.

A local farmer, on horse and carriage

rushes over and offers help.

Harvey still has a chance if he can get to Kendall,

where an auto can take him to Bellingham.

Worried that the open ride will chill the depleted runner,

a bathrobe is given to Haggard for the trip.

For the club's Executive Committee it appears a calamity

and a media nightmare are about to unfold.

But as the regional papers sensationalize the wreck,

the would be disaster turns into the best PR stunt

the Club could have hoped for.

Three men dead, including Golithon,

but in reality no one is killed,

except for the big red bull.

The carriage takes Haggard to Maple Falls,

where a horse named Buster waits to carry him several miles

to Kendall crossing, the nearest drivable road.

Harvey isn't known for his horsemanship

nor Buster for his patience.

At Kendall Crossing, Haggard makes his transfer

for the last leg of his journey,

only to have his car break down several times

after slamming into potholes along the way.

Harvey later describes his journey as a blur;

a whirling dream,a moving picture show running amuck.

In Bellingham the crowd roars as

Joe Galbraith and Hugh Diehl speed into town.

Joe, shaken from the ride, stumbles out of the car

and takes the last leg of the journey

to the top floor of the Chamber of Commerce.

Runner comin' in, runner comin' in!

Exhausted, delirious and euphoric,

Joe has to be reminded that his certificate needs to be

presentedand the official record book signed

before he can be declared the winner.

You have to register, over here, sir...

In a time of 12 hours and 28 minutes, Joe Galbraith,

is the champion of the 1911 Mount Baker marathon.

Mr. Galbriath, congratulations, you are the first winner

of the Mount Baker Marathon.

Just minutes behind Galbraith, Harvey Haggard arrives.

As his machine roars down Magnolia Street,

Haggard yells for his driver to pull over,

in fear that the crowd will surround them.

He jumps out and sprints down the street to

the Chamber office, still wearing his bathrobe.

Haggard's trials and tribulations during

the race make headlines.

He survives a train wreck,

a buggy and horse ride and a detour in

a speeding automobile, all for second-place.

To Harvey Haggard, the mule packer from the Pulson Mine,

second place isn't first, but he's happy to be alive.

After the first race there were days and nights of celebrations.

The last of which was a giant barbecue,

and on the menu?

The big red bull who had derailed

the Glacier route Haggard train.

So, this first year was a real success.

Nobody else is doing anything remotely like this

and it is a testimony to the remarkable stamina,

toughness and courage of the men of this region.

So, they plan to do it again in the summer of 1912.

It is 1912. The Titanic sinks in the North Atlantic.

Explorer Robert Falcon Scott perishes during

an expedition to the South Pole,

and in Bellingham, the Chamber of Commerce begins an

aggressive campaign to raise funds for the second marathon.

Henry Engberg is a local pharmacist who always seems

to be outshined by his 19-year old wife,

Madam Davenport Engberg, a virtuoso violinist,

and the first woman in the United States

to conduct her own orchestra.

It is now Henry's turn to be in the spotlight

as the newly elected president of the Mount Baker Club.

Engberg plans to make his mark by expanding

the marathon into a three-day celebration

and to raise the first place prize to 500 dollars,

which attracts competitors from Boston, Canada and California.

He introduces a new marathon logo, the Mount Baker Club goat.

J.J. Donovan, railroad baron and lumber tycoon is a supporter

of the Chamber of Commerce and the Mount Baker Marathon.

His status in the community and desire to promote business

in the region attracts investors to Engberg's cause.

The club arranges for the U.S. fleet to anchor in the bay

so that people can tour the famous warships.

There is no shortage of new festivities.

Motorboats race on the lake,

parades fill the street

and a circus attracts huge crowds.

Parachute jumps and hot air balloon rides are offered

and many see an airplane fly overhead

for the first time in their lives.

SFX; Airplane

A group of citizens, drivers and shopkeepers confront

the race committee about safety concerns.

The group wants to move the automobile race outside the city

for fear of speedy autos crashing

through store fronts or into the crowds.

They are met with derision by the race committee.

"You care more about the race than those in it

and you won't be happy until someone's dead!"

"If you don't drive we'll find red-blooded men who will!"

Subsequently, the public is barred from future

committee meetings. The event will go on as planned.

Joe Galbraith, the previous year's champion makes headlines

when he breaks his arm and shoulder

in an auto accident while training

and counts himself out of the competition.

Joe's brother, Hugh, decides to go in his place.

The time for the race nears,

and over 20,000 people crowd the streets.

However, a storm is brewing on the mountain.

When summit judges Nathan Davis, and J.W. Collins

reach the snow-line,

they realize the weather conditions are far

too dangerous to send runners up the slopes.

Davis, concludes that the race must be stopped.

Davis knows his decision to halt the race is not going to be

taken lightly back in Bellingham by the executive committee.

He and Collins head off the mountain

and on their way down they run into Ranger Carl Bell.

They explain to him the situation

that they are facing on the mountain.

Carl decides, I need to go into town with these guys

and help support their cause.

They head into Deming and once they get there they

run into Joe Galbraith, the previous years winner.

And they solicit his help to come into town also.

Once they were about ready to take off,

Davis realizes there's no judges on the mountain

and Engberg is not going to be a happy man.

So, he jumps out of the car and runs into the hotel

and tells the switchboard operator

"Call into town and let the executive committee know

they're not on the mountain and they are on their way in."

As in the previous year,

the race is scheduled to start at 10pm,

but at 5pm at the Chamber

of Commerce rooms,

Engberg, and the Mount Baker club's

executive committee are in a state of denial.

Reporters, investors,

promoters and even citizens corner board members,

asking what is to become of the race.

Then, shocking word from Deming,

the judges are on their way back to Bellingham.

The committee is flabbergasted.

The club members become nervous,

are they courting disaster? If so,

the blame may lie at their feet.

Davis and Collins enter the committee meeting room,

with Ranger Carl Bell and Joe Galbraith.

It's the trail. It is completely buried in snow.

And the judges are standing in my office instead of

The reception is as cold as they expected.

Engberg is angry.

Nothing Davis says seems to make an impression.

And so you gave up? It is all costing money,

money we don't have unless we pull this off.

And, it is costing the city its reputation,

not to mention my own.

Your reputation?

If you start men up that mountain now,

you're sending them to their deaths.

[Arguing]

[BANG,BANG,BANG]

Joe Galbraith stands before the executive committee

with one arm raised in a plaster cast.

If you would lay $5,000 dollars in my hand to climb

the mountain tonight, I would not go.

To try it would be worst than suicide.

Engberg's decision will seal

the fate of the Mount Baker marathon.

Let me make something perfectly clear so there is no mistake.

When this resumes it will not again be halted.

The runners will run up that mountain regardless

of weather or trail conditions,

neither I, nor this committee gives

a damn if it takes them three days

they will run up that mountain.

Mr. Davis you will make preparations

to stay on the summit for a week, longer if necessary.

This city will not be seen by

the rest of the country to be some,

backwater hicks in some jerk-water town

who can't pull off a simple race.

Do I make myself clear?

[All] Yes, sir...

Go on. Leave.

The official postponement is not announced until after 9 p.m.,

just one hour before the scheduled start of the race.

Postponing the marathon is a heavy blow for those invested.

The city is filled to capacity, more than doubling

the number in attendance from last year.

Headlines in the morning papers read as if

the Mount Baker Club has saved the day,

averting a near disaster -

"Committee refuses to send men to death."

Engberg knows for every day the race is delayed visitors,

and their money are leaving the city.

He has to start the race to avoid financial ruin.

Fortunately, as the day of the race dawns the weather clears

and the judges once again head for the summit,

but this time prepared for any

weather conditions that might arise.

As a simple matter of fact, when you ascend 10,000-feet

you can expect the temperature is going

to be approximately 35-degrees Fahrenheit lower

than it would be at sea level.

And so, if the temperature is 70-degrees at sea level,

it could be 35-degrees at the summit of Baker,

and that doesn't even count the wind,

they would have been at the mercy of the weather.

Ie climbed Mount Baker between 50 and 70 times.

I've had days on the summit that were perfectly calm,

sunny and pleasant

and I had days that were brutally cold.

Where you were just trying to get out of there

before you lost fingers and toes to frostbite

A windy cold night on the summit of MountBaker

for those judges a hundred years ago

would have been pretty rough duty up there.

The first year of the races accommodation for judges

were not very good.

The judges practical froze to death when they were there.

So, for the second race,

they decided to have better accommodation.

A canvas and metal structure was built on the very top

of Mount Baker that was big enough to hold six people.

Camping on the summit can be a very pleasant experience,

or it can be a very, very, very unpleasant experience.

If you have a snow shelter its probably

going to be a more pleasant

because high winds will be buffeted

by that more easily than a tent will.

The wind conditions on top of Mount Baker are commonly

40 , 50 miles an hour, often 60 miles an hour or more.

It can be arctic up there. It can be like, Denali honestly.

It's serious up there. Very serious,

especially for people who aren't

prepared properly for those conditions.

Which, back then, nobody was.

One of the disadvantages of the first year's race was that

once the racers left the train or cars on the route

to the top of Mount Baker and back,

nobody had any idea where they were or

who was ahead during that part of the race.

In the second year they laid telephone

wires way up the mountain,

so they could have stations and relay back to Bellingham

how the racers were doing and who was a head.

Nine runners, including Harvey Haggard,

in his second bid for first place start the race.

Turner Riddle, John Magnuson and Joe Frankovis

also return to try for the $500 purse.

Hugh Galbraith finds himself in Betsy two,

speeding toward Deming,

just like his brother the year before.

His cousin Victor Galbraith joins the race as well.

Yeah, I was going to run.

I did get as far out as the Hiesler ranch

in one of the Betsys', one of the little Ford cars they took.

But, riding around those sharp turns and

stopping and starting quick, it made me seasick.

I got so sick that I simply couldn't go any farther.

That's all there was too it,

so I quit.

Lead Judge Nathan Davis snaps a photo of John Magnuson

as he takes his mandatory break at the summit,

the only known image of a runner at the peak.

The runners break all of the trail times set by

the previous year's contestants by over two and a half hours.

Harvey Haggard, his second chance on the Glacier trail,

comes down the mountain in first place

and climbs aboard the Number Three Special.

Harvey Haggard, whose run in with the bull left him

struggling for second place the year before,

is now champion of the 1912 Mount Baker Marathon.

But the race is far from over.

And there were huge, huge crowds.

And they would wait all night long for reports.

No body went to bed.

The automobile races they had with the Baby 40

and the Betsy I and II and the National

and several other cars.

They would come down that stretch of Elk Street

with flames spurting out of the adjusted tubes

that stuck out of the sides of the cylinders

at a speed of 72 miles an hour,

which in that day was considerable.

I happened to see the as he skidded. He lost control.

His breaks had gone out

and he came around the corner there.

There was a vacant lot with some cordwood piled along side,

and a big crowed in front of it and he...

[Screeching tires, car crash, screams from the crowd]

plowed right into that crowd losing control of it.

Quite, looked to be a very bad accident.

One was quite badly hurt.

[Get a doctor! Get a doctor!]

The worst fears of the storeowners come true.

A.A. Rogers, a Civil War veteran is hit by a car.

He is taken to his home and then by ambulance to the hospital,

though gravely injured, he survives.

Harvey Haggard is awarded the $500 dollar prize and news

of the marathon is reported in papers from coast to coast.

The race generates so much interest

that the Mount Baker club

and Chamber of Commerce believe

they finally have a formula for success.

It is August of 1913.

Europe in on the brink of war.

Woodrow Wilson is the new President of the United States,

and The Mona Lisa is recovered in Italy.

The Mount Baker club has a new president, Raymond Greene.

The race festivities are expanded.

The Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus

is in town for the celebration

and more than 20,000 spectators travel to the city

by boat and train to watch the race.

There was a lot at stake in 1913.

The Mount Baker club wanted to make this

the biggest marathon yet.

And in doing so, they were gambling.

They were spending far more money

than what they had coming in,

and their expenses far exceeded their banking accounts.

This year, the marathon will start on August

the 16th at 5;30 in the morning,

to give the crowd a better chance to see the race,

but unfortunately the earlier starting time

will also add to the dangerous trail conditions faced

by the runners on the mountain.

Proven that the Glacier route is the fastest

the race is changed to even the odds.

The runners will travel by train or auto to the mountain

and once they reach the summit will return by opposite trail

and mode of transportation.

Each runner will travel by train, by foot and by auto.

Once again, bad weather assaults the mountain

and another storm is brewing between Nathan Davis

and Raymond Greene.

Davis, stationed on the mountain at the snow-line

calls Greene at the Chamber.

[Phone rings]

The storm is upon us, and its not letting up.

I have to advise you to postpone the race.

Do not send the runners. It is not safe.

What are your instructions?

You stand fast Mr. Davis. Wee aware of the situation.

We are just as concerned for the runners as you are.

We will advise you in the morning.

A lot can change in twenty-four hours.

[Phone hangs up]

Greene did not want to have a debacle

like Engberg had in 1912.

He was going to gamble. He was gamble

that the weather was going too break,

and he was willing to gamble on the lives of his runners.

He was going to start the race on schedule no matter what.

The morning of the race, Davis,

weathering the storm at Mazama Park,

assumes his plea to postpone the race has been heeded,

he and his fellow judges pack up their camps.

But back in Bellingham,

confusion among the race officials,

and investor's resistance to postpone,

override fears for the safety of the runners.

The race starts and 14 runners unknowingly

speed toward the storm.

The officials on the Glacier side

have already left their camp

On the Deming side, Davis and his men are heading

off the mountain when they are shocked to see a

mud-covered Paul Westerlund,

a professional runner from California,

advancing up the trail toward them.

Davis tells the man to go only as far as

the saddle of the mountain,

an area 1,500 feet below the summit.

He is told do not attempt to summit under any circumstances.

With no judges on the other side of the mountain,

the Glacier runners continue onto the summit,

just missing the Deming runners coming down from the saddle.

Millard Burnside, a local mountain man forced

to run without his pet bear,

is the first to reach the summit.

Three more runners soon follow.

Confused, they call out for the judges,

search the area, but can find no one to report to.

Burnside decides to end his bid and to stay behind

to assist any others who reached the summit.

The last runner to leave Burnside is Victor Galbraith,

cousin of Joe Galbraith, the champion of the 1911 marathon.

When you're on the summit area of Mount Baker and the clouds

come in it is very difficult to tell which way is which,

because everything slopes away, so it's hard.

You think you're going back the direction you came from,

but you could be off a couple of degrees and as you get

a little lower it pulls you a little more to the side

and you can go off completely

the opposite side of the mountain.

This happens, that's how people get lost.

Victor Galbraith, alone as he comes down the mountain,

takes an impulsive shortcut.

You go from being on the surface, to just being

in this black pit that you can't get out of.

Victor Galbraith knocked himself out for a little while,

and then he had to come to,

and deal with this environment.

Man. that's a tough guy.

From probably the most dangerous perspective,

potentially icefall could come down and hit you.

It could be drippy, spindrifts coming down.

Snow coming down.

Galbraith being at the bottom

of a crevasse for five hours is pretty bad.

Especially the fact that he was injured,

nobody knew where he was,

his expectancy was honestly less than five hours.

The other runners didn't even notice he was missing.

He tried to keep warm and active

by running back and forth.

The bottom of a crevasse is like a refrigerator.

And, if you're dressed light for a quick ascent and descent

and you're stuck inside a refrigerator

for four to six hours,

your chances of survival, if not found are very limited.

If he didn't have any safety equipment to get out of there,

He's popsicle material.

Yeah, I mean...

My Dad and my Uncle Aud,

heard that he had fallen in a crevasse.

They sent a team to follow his trail up to

the top of the mountain. A rescue team.

And they told my Uncle Aud that they were going, and he said,

"Well, I'm just going to start up through here,

because I think I can get there more quickly

than following his trail."

He and my dad in fact started right up

and went straight to where my cousin was.

They saw where his tracks had gone down into the crevasse,

and my uncle yelled,

"Victor." And he said, "Aud old boy, is that you?"

He said it sounded like the voice of angels.

He though he was dead. He had been in there a long time

and he was probably at that point almost unconscious.

They put ropes down and pulled him out.

He's lucky he survived, and he's lucky people found him,

'cause there's no way

you can live very long in that environment

when you're not very well equipped

and not very well prepared.

He was brought by improvised toboggan back down the mountain.

Newspaper articles said that he had cuts and bruises,

but perhaps the problems were worse.

Years later, his family said he was still suffering

from problems related to the fall.

The rest of the runners continue the race.

As they come off the Deming trail,

many of the runners are so disoriented and delirious

that they run past their waiting automobiles.

Drivers have to herd their runners and even lash some of

them to their seats before starting back to the city.

Huge crowds await the runners back in Bellingham

The first through the Chamber door is Paul Westerlund,

the runner who had traversed the saddle.

The poor condition of the returning runners is obvious.

It is not long before Nathan Davis

and the contestants tell the story of the botched race,

and of a runner lost in a crevasse.

I can only say, hereafter get someone else to

act as judge on the mountain.

I am done.

The marathon is won in a record time of 9 hours and 39 minutes.

But who actually won the race?

Is it Paul Westerlund,

who crossed the saddle to finish first?

Or is it John Magnuson, who reached the summit only

to arrive in Bellingham in third place?

Three and a half hours behind Westerlund.

The Mount Baker club offers a take-it-or-leave-it deal.

Barroom brawls break out over

which township should be declared the winner,

and the runners demand their awards.

If those summit contestants make trouble,

I'll&I'll award the prizes to the Saddle runners.

I will not change my ruling.

Everything that could go wrong in 1913 did.

The people were disappointed with the race.

The Mount Baker club was financially strapped.

Runners were protesting the results of the race.

And, to make things worse,

newspapers were calling the marathons human horse races.

J.J. Donovan writes an open letter to the newspaper.

The third marathon is over and no runner is killed.

A fourth may not be so lucky.

It is time to stop.

Without the financial support

from Bellingham's affluent society,

the Mount Baker Marathon is bankrupted.

The town of Glacier, seizing an opportunity to be

crowned gateway to the mountain,

announces a "Race for blood,"

doubling the marathon purse to an astonishing $1,000,

to settle once and for all

who is the real winner of the 1913 marathon.

Two runners are willing to take up the challenge.

Paul Westerlund,

who feels he needs to defend his name and title.

And Millard Burnside,

who abandoned the race at the summit.

Burnside declares that if he hadn't chosen to freeze

on the summit he would have won the race.

The other contestants,

are too bitter and disillusioned,

they refuse to compete.

In the early hours of August 31, 1913,

the Number Three Special,

the train that had delivered runners to Bellingham,

now delivers spectators to Glacier.

The Sumas marching band plays to a crowd of 15,000 people,

who surround the trailhead to witness the historic event.

Not only does Paul Westerlund win the match,

he also breaks all previous trail records

with a staggering time of 6 hours and 2 minutes.

Millard Burnside limps in 37 minutes later.

It will prove to be the last time

a finish line is crossed in a Mount Baker Marathon.

It would have continued if the management

had been good all the way through.

A great deal of the trouble that closed those marathons

was the fact that people were afraid of subjecting

these runners to such great hardships.

So, it could have kept just the same as an annual event,

which would have drawn tremendous crowds.

Well, the first race or two they didn't care whether

they had any money or not.

They weren't interested in the money part of it.

They were just interested in getting up Mount Baker

and back the quickest.

It was a big event, and it continued to be a big event

for two or three years

until it began to get commercialized,

and the professional racers came up here.

And then, well, my cousin fell in a crevasse,

and a couple different things happened,

and the interest kind of died out.

and they just dropped it that's all.

More than a century has past since

the Mountain Runners attempted to conquer the summit.

Their names and faces have faded with time.

For every man who succeeded, there were far more who failed,

and still, the mountain, Koma Kulshan,

beckons . . .