Tuesday, July 23, 2019
Waves
we begin to find ourselves feeling empty. what is this strange inability to eb and flow that feels like voided vigor. we blink and begin to realize we are going through a valley. we haven't known it the whole time, but the parchment in our veins has made itself known through the realization that the spark has been missing now for some time. maybe it's the right chords and notes at the right time as we continue about our day that wake us to the tides. is that the long lost spirit we had taken for granted when things seemed so normal and easy? a flicker or notice that water is coming snaps into our soul, reminding us - by the very spontaneous joy that comes with the movement - that yes, goodness and love and warmth have spotted us and that we are again moving. this gift comes and is resurrection-thousand of times in a lifetime, a microcosm of the large arch that is the dance of this conscious spirited relationship, yet ever so forgotten many times. Where you are is never forever static. enjoy, wait, remember, keep going. onward.
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
Art Loeb
4 days ago two other guys set off with me from Charlotte to attempt a completion of the full Art Loeb trail in Pisgah National Forest.
We headed to the mountains to set up our camp, which was at the south trail head of the trail, greeted by a summer shower immediately upon arrival just as we began setting up our tent. Due to this fact, things began to get wet.
After getting situated, and then changed out of our wet clothes, we decided to hit the town of Brevard for a hearty dinner which would be the big meal that would accompany us in our bellies as we set out the next day. Big Mike's fit the bill with their offering of ample Italian fare, thick pizzas, and cold local draft beers. We each ordered a personal thick crusted pizza and downed our drinks, and returned to our campsite with a little daylight still to spare. After milling around for a bit, we settled into our chairs at the site and conversed about a few topics, but none more than what our future may have in store in the morrow. Of the three of us, I was seemingly the most unsure if the task of 30 miles, deep in the blue ridge mountains, would be doable in a days journey; for we were not bringing anything with us other than fuel, water, and a space blanket and some basic first aid supplies. If we were to not finish, we would have to get creative - and what that would mean seemed to be an open ended wonder. Yet to my comrades, failure seemed almost impossible.
Wade, our elder of the group, who has hiked much of the trail in segments, seemed the most optimistic, which of course was a good sign since Stewart and I were in the dark. Stewart seemed more optimistic than me, yet maybe not as sure as Wade. Stewart is the newest of the long distance runners in the trio, so I think a little bit of naivete was on his side, which can't really be faulted. Experience is a great teacher, and while I haven't attempted such a feat - I did feel that understanding the distance we were to undertake, given such extreme trails with vertical paths, winding routes, and gnarly terrain that is common in the NC mtns, was present in my calculations, and the idea of maintaining less than a 20 min mile pace for over 10 hours on our feet would certainly not be easy...maybe even unlikely. Yet....i wanted to see for myself, so on my own accord i was a happy participant.
Sleep was hard to come by that first night as we settled into our quarters. The ground was very hard, and as a side sleeper, it was pretty uncomfortable to fall asleep. Would imagine i maybe only got about 5 hours of light sleep. At 5:30 I arose to greet the others, as we made breakfast and packed our ultra vests full of water and energy bars, in order to meet our pick up at 6:15 who would drive us to the Northbound trail head, which was about an hour away by car.
As we arrived at the Daniel Boone Camp that is a host to Boy Scouts, the sights of children milling about in the outdoors, and the trail made itself shown. We were here, and it was time to see what we were made of. The first 5 miles we knew were some of the steepest, so with caution we started out, not in a jog, but a hikers pace that was not slow. Taking into account the hills so early, while keeping in mind that this was a days event, was all too present in our minds. The steps of faith started early. For the first 4 miles on our journey the trail was set up on the side of the mountains, rising around as we assented towards the top of Cold Mountain. Typical rocks and fallen limbs, but no overgrowth. The views down the mountain were pretty open and if you caught an opening through the distant trees you could see through the mountain out into the further surrounding mountains, making for the occasional glimpses of sky and early morning sun.
at over 4 miles we hit our first check point marker: an open level small field, where a recent abandoned camp site lay, and 4 or 5 different trails inviting travelers into unmarked territory. With Wade having done this section before he was prepared and knew exactly which path to take. (also, which proved to be a big help and of frequent use was the pre loaded map on his phone that would show us in relation to the trail, which would confirm that we were on the right path. (Once we got to about 6 miles, we were out of unmarked territory and the Art Loeb trail was furnished with White Blaze markings on trees and rocks, as is typical).
This next section of the trail was thicker and a bit steeper as we were gaining on the tops of a ridgeline that would get us above 5 thousand feet. The first layer of sweat had started to cool in the more densely shaded elevated terrain, and so did the scratches around the legs as we forged through the brush to the opening tops of our first mountains, here at 6-7 miles in. It was also here that we passed our first other human. An older man with poles, coming in the other direction, moving with a veterans efficiency.
at 7.5 miles i started on my first energy gel. Prior to i had a banana and had been munching on dehydrated bananas and granola intermittently, with the occasional sip of water. I felt the immediate lift in energy as we made our way into double digit miles. To note, as we signaled to each other with mile beeps on the watch, we would break down percentage wise how far we had come and left to go, and would make light calculations in our heads about pace and if we were on target to make it in day light. We were, and while it was tough terrain, we also kept expecting plenty of upcoming trail to make it up on, a fact that seemed to almost never materialize.
While our pace was steady, we did refrain from long breaks. At a view we might take it in for a moment or two, but then it was off again - to keep moving seemed to be on all our minds. These first 6 miles also I was in the front of our single line trek, but at mile 7 I asked Stewart to take the lead for a change. I think this was a good approach to mix it up, and let others be pullers and others be pacers, let alone for the change of scenery and to give turns to those being the greeters of the unknown be it cobwebs, brush, or the hoped to never see snake. (we never saw any, but we sure got a loud warning about their prevalence from our shuttle driver!) It was not late into the journey that we were going to have to place Trust at the forefront of our steps hoping that as we landed a snake would not be there. I guess after a while we let go and tried to do the best we could with our eyes and ears. Speaking of which, it's worth noting the mental strain it takes in looking where we place each step given the nature of the uneven terrain and obstacles that lay afoot. this is true in all trail running, but on a day that was going to be over 8 hours, the tax is surely felt.
Hitting miles 10-12 we emerged into open balds with grand vistas. Thick overgrowth covered the paths, and here we did take a wrong turn only to have to retrace our steps back to the trail, our one directional mishap. After the brushing and negated views of our feet, we then saw even more spectacular views as we came to Tennet Mountain and Black Balsam Knob. 360 degree views atop 6k feet really was a nice spot to hit at this juncture. Soon after noon, 4 hours in, we crossed the Blue Ridge Parkway and into a new section of trail that was laid with a soft-bed of pine needles, and dark cool air given the abundant trees on this short lived flat section of trail. From here, we began to descend with more familiar winding tighter trails, which weaved down into one of two shelters that we would encounter. This one was a triangular shaped opened sided hut basically. it provided a nice spot where i shed my damp socks and resumed sockless, much more comfortable.
after this brief stop, the climbing resumed....and with a vengence. Here, as we scaled up towards the top of Pilot Mtn, the grade became the steepest of the day, and the quads started their burning screams in concert with the lungs until we hit the top, putting us around 15 or 16 miles into the journey. We took a short minute to admire the view, and realize that water was beginning to get scarce between the three of us. Steward was down to his last bottle, and Wade was dry. I gave one of my bottles (of which i was borrowing from Wade anyway) to Wade, and still had more left to keep my company. We knew on the descent we would eventually get to a water source where we could refill....but we had miles to go before that. As the downhill started off and stayed technical for a couple of miles, we did get to a point, the first of the day really, where you could hold a jog pace more than a hundred meters, and make up some time - but not without feeling the toll that was built up from the beginning. Here, i was getting a second wind, and started to think that if the trail stayed like this, we would be able to make it before dark. As I got to a waiting point where the trail crossed a service road, i looked at my watch and it read about 18.5 miles. I had gone ahead the furthest I had of the day so it was a couple minutes until Stewart and Wade showed. At this cross road, Wade knew - from reading - there was a natural spring which he really needed badly...we all did to be sure. With this pause to look for water, I noticed a gait change...he seemed to be favoring his knee, which added to the concern...also, his color was looking pale, so I knew this water stop was critical. Down the road we kept going but given that it was supposed to be 100 yards, we had gone about twice that and had not found any. Perhaps it was on the other direction down the road. As we backtracked, a sense of helplessness began to hover, and with that an awareness was being sensed that what would happen would next be out of our control. This sense of surrender was palpable for me, and it was brief too. It was as if soon as i recognized this peril I also became aware to let go - and intuited that something was going to happen, perhaps sooner than later. It was Just Then that a US Forestry truck slowly drove up and slowed down next to us. Seeing the logo on the door, I internally began to smile. As if on cue, here was our deliverers. As we began to speak to them, letting them know we thought a stream was near by, we noticed a truck bed full of bottled water. They were unaware of any springs, but they were very willing to give us some water bottles on our journey, while they opened up their maps and told us about what lay ahead on the rest of the trek. We thanked them, said goodbye, and crossed the road back to the trail when no more than 10 seconds later, Wade - with a defeated face - bravely told us that he believed he was at the end of his Art Loeb journey. Scenarios were shared, but in the end we all agreed that we needed to stay together. Getting back we still had many miles to go, but with the service road there we had access to much easier terrain that would take us back.
Sadness or disappointment was not really heavy, it was more a sense of understanding that this feat demanded respect, experience, and a high level of fitness. to get 18 miles in was no small task, and our journey was still not over. Even though we were off the trail, i was still delighted at the setting we were in - deep in the mountains - and more miles ahead to test myself until the days jaunt was truly over. The road was downhill, flat and smooth, and beckoned me to run. So I did. I knew hitch hiking was not out of the question if we got too tired, so that was a bit of a safety valve, and with our sights set at camp, away we went, this time dispersed, with me leaving the group.
at this point i'll leave some of the details in my mind, but to conclude, with about a mile to go, Wade and Stewart came up hanging out of a car asking if i wanted it. Earlier, i would have - but being so close to the end i opted to finish the task on foot. 28.6 miles until i stopped, and while I was pleased to go farther than a marathon, i was ecstatic to be finished as I saw the sign welcoming back to Davidson River Camp Ground.
We headed to the mountains to set up our camp, which was at the south trail head of the trail, greeted by a summer shower immediately upon arrival just as we began setting up our tent. Due to this fact, things began to get wet.
After getting situated, and then changed out of our wet clothes, we decided to hit the town of Brevard for a hearty dinner which would be the big meal that would accompany us in our bellies as we set out the next day. Big Mike's fit the bill with their offering of ample Italian fare, thick pizzas, and cold local draft beers. We each ordered a personal thick crusted pizza and downed our drinks, and returned to our campsite with a little daylight still to spare. After milling around for a bit, we settled into our chairs at the site and conversed about a few topics, but none more than what our future may have in store in the morrow. Of the three of us, I was seemingly the most unsure if the task of 30 miles, deep in the blue ridge mountains, would be doable in a days journey; for we were not bringing anything with us other than fuel, water, and a space blanket and some basic first aid supplies. If we were to not finish, we would have to get creative - and what that would mean seemed to be an open ended wonder. Yet to my comrades, failure seemed almost impossible.
Wade, our elder of the group, who has hiked much of the trail in segments, seemed the most optimistic, which of course was a good sign since Stewart and I were in the dark. Stewart seemed more optimistic than me, yet maybe not as sure as Wade. Stewart is the newest of the long distance runners in the trio, so I think a little bit of naivete was on his side, which can't really be faulted. Experience is a great teacher, and while I haven't attempted such a feat - I did feel that understanding the distance we were to undertake, given such extreme trails with vertical paths, winding routes, and gnarly terrain that is common in the NC mtns, was present in my calculations, and the idea of maintaining less than a 20 min mile pace for over 10 hours on our feet would certainly not be easy...maybe even unlikely. Yet....i wanted to see for myself, so on my own accord i was a happy participant.
Sleep was hard to come by that first night as we settled into our quarters. The ground was very hard, and as a side sleeper, it was pretty uncomfortable to fall asleep. Would imagine i maybe only got about 5 hours of light sleep. At 5:30 I arose to greet the others, as we made breakfast and packed our ultra vests full of water and energy bars, in order to meet our pick up at 6:15 who would drive us to the Northbound trail head, which was about an hour away by car.
As we arrived at the Daniel Boone Camp that is a host to Boy Scouts, the sights of children milling about in the outdoors, and the trail made itself shown. We were here, and it was time to see what we were made of. The first 5 miles we knew were some of the steepest, so with caution we started out, not in a jog, but a hikers pace that was not slow. Taking into account the hills so early, while keeping in mind that this was a days event, was all too present in our minds. The steps of faith started early. For the first 4 miles on our journey the trail was set up on the side of the mountains, rising around as we assented towards the top of Cold Mountain. Typical rocks and fallen limbs, but no overgrowth. The views down the mountain were pretty open and if you caught an opening through the distant trees you could see through the mountain out into the further surrounding mountains, making for the occasional glimpses of sky and early morning sun.
at over 4 miles we hit our first check point marker: an open level small field, where a recent abandoned camp site lay, and 4 or 5 different trails inviting travelers into unmarked territory. With Wade having done this section before he was prepared and knew exactly which path to take. (also, which proved to be a big help and of frequent use was the pre loaded map on his phone that would show us in relation to the trail, which would confirm that we were on the right path. (Once we got to about 6 miles, we were out of unmarked territory and the Art Loeb trail was furnished with White Blaze markings on trees and rocks, as is typical).
This next section of the trail was thicker and a bit steeper as we were gaining on the tops of a ridgeline that would get us above 5 thousand feet. The first layer of sweat had started to cool in the more densely shaded elevated terrain, and so did the scratches around the legs as we forged through the brush to the opening tops of our first mountains, here at 6-7 miles in. It was also here that we passed our first other human. An older man with poles, coming in the other direction, moving with a veterans efficiency.
at 7.5 miles i started on my first energy gel. Prior to i had a banana and had been munching on dehydrated bananas and granola intermittently, with the occasional sip of water. I felt the immediate lift in energy as we made our way into double digit miles. To note, as we signaled to each other with mile beeps on the watch, we would break down percentage wise how far we had come and left to go, and would make light calculations in our heads about pace and if we were on target to make it in day light. We were, and while it was tough terrain, we also kept expecting plenty of upcoming trail to make it up on, a fact that seemed to almost never materialize.
While our pace was steady, we did refrain from long breaks. At a view we might take it in for a moment or two, but then it was off again - to keep moving seemed to be on all our minds. These first 6 miles also I was in the front of our single line trek, but at mile 7 I asked Stewart to take the lead for a change. I think this was a good approach to mix it up, and let others be pullers and others be pacers, let alone for the change of scenery and to give turns to those being the greeters of the unknown be it cobwebs, brush, or the hoped to never see snake. (we never saw any, but we sure got a loud warning about their prevalence from our shuttle driver!) It was not late into the journey that we were going to have to place Trust at the forefront of our steps hoping that as we landed a snake would not be there. I guess after a while we let go and tried to do the best we could with our eyes and ears. Speaking of which, it's worth noting the mental strain it takes in looking where we place each step given the nature of the uneven terrain and obstacles that lay afoot. this is true in all trail running, but on a day that was going to be over 8 hours, the tax is surely felt.
Hitting miles 10-12 we emerged into open balds with grand vistas. Thick overgrowth covered the paths, and here we did take a wrong turn only to have to retrace our steps back to the trail, our one directional mishap. After the brushing and negated views of our feet, we then saw even more spectacular views as we came to Tennet Mountain and Black Balsam Knob. 360 degree views atop 6k feet really was a nice spot to hit at this juncture. Soon after noon, 4 hours in, we crossed the Blue Ridge Parkway and into a new section of trail that was laid with a soft-bed of pine needles, and dark cool air given the abundant trees on this short lived flat section of trail. From here, we began to descend with more familiar winding tighter trails, which weaved down into one of two shelters that we would encounter. This one was a triangular shaped opened sided hut basically. it provided a nice spot where i shed my damp socks and resumed sockless, much more comfortable.
after this brief stop, the climbing resumed....and with a vengence. Here, as we scaled up towards the top of Pilot Mtn, the grade became the steepest of the day, and the quads started their burning screams in concert with the lungs until we hit the top, putting us around 15 or 16 miles into the journey. We took a short minute to admire the view, and realize that water was beginning to get scarce between the three of us. Steward was down to his last bottle, and Wade was dry. I gave one of my bottles (of which i was borrowing from Wade anyway) to Wade, and still had more left to keep my company. We knew on the descent we would eventually get to a water source where we could refill....but we had miles to go before that. As the downhill started off and stayed technical for a couple of miles, we did get to a point, the first of the day really, where you could hold a jog pace more than a hundred meters, and make up some time - but not without feeling the toll that was built up from the beginning. Here, i was getting a second wind, and started to think that if the trail stayed like this, we would be able to make it before dark. As I got to a waiting point where the trail crossed a service road, i looked at my watch and it read about 18.5 miles. I had gone ahead the furthest I had of the day so it was a couple minutes until Stewart and Wade showed. At this cross road, Wade knew - from reading - there was a natural spring which he really needed badly...we all did to be sure. With this pause to look for water, I noticed a gait change...he seemed to be favoring his knee, which added to the concern...also, his color was looking pale, so I knew this water stop was critical. Down the road we kept going but given that it was supposed to be 100 yards, we had gone about twice that and had not found any. Perhaps it was on the other direction down the road. As we backtracked, a sense of helplessness began to hover, and with that an awareness was being sensed that what would happen would next be out of our control. This sense of surrender was palpable for me, and it was brief too. It was as if soon as i recognized this peril I also became aware to let go - and intuited that something was going to happen, perhaps sooner than later. It was Just Then that a US Forestry truck slowly drove up and slowed down next to us. Seeing the logo on the door, I internally began to smile. As if on cue, here was our deliverers. As we began to speak to them, letting them know we thought a stream was near by, we noticed a truck bed full of bottled water. They were unaware of any springs, but they were very willing to give us some water bottles on our journey, while they opened up their maps and told us about what lay ahead on the rest of the trek. We thanked them, said goodbye, and crossed the road back to the trail when no more than 10 seconds later, Wade - with a defeated face - bravely told us that he believed he was at the end of his Art Loeb journey. Scenarios were shared, but in the end we all agreed that we needed to stay together. Getting back we still had many miles to go, but with the service road there we had access to much easier terrain that would take us back.
Sadness or disappointment was not really heavy, it was more a sense of understanding that this feat demanded respect, experience, and a high level of fitness. to get 18 miles in was no small task, and our journey was still not over. Even though we were off the trail, i was still delighted at the setting we were in - deep in the mountains - and more miles ahead to test myself until the days jaunt was truly over. The road was downhill, flat and smooth, and beckoned me to run. So I did. I knew hitch hiking was not out of the question if we got too tired, so that was a bit of a safety valve, and with our sights set at camp, away we went, this time dispersed, with me leaving the group.
at this point i'll leave some of the details in my mind, but to conclude, with about a mile to go, Wade and Stewart came up hanging out of a car asking if i wanted it. Earlier, i would have - but being so close to the end i opted to finish the task on foot. 28.6 miles until i stopped, and while I was pleased to go farther than a marathon, i was ecstatic to be finished as I saw the sign welcoming back to Davidson River Camp Ground.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)