Ultra Adventures

Will Harlan Speeds Smokies Traverse to Focus Attention on Mountain Conservation

Miles for Mountains End-to-End�to End Mountaintop Removal By Will Harlan Friday I completed a 72-mile, end-to-end run across Great Smoky Mountains National Park in just under 17 hours, a speed record. However, the real goal was to help bring an end to the devastating and deadly effects of mountaintop removal mining in Appalachia. I followed the Appalachian Trail (A.T.) for the entire run. The Smokies section of the A.T. is one of the toughest trails in the country: the steep, boulder-strewn footpath climbs sharply up 6,000-foot summits, including an ascent of Clingmans Dome, the highest mountain on the A.T. But the trail�s difficulty is surpassed by its beauty: it abounds with lush old-growth forests, dramatic vistas, and an unsurpassed array of wildlife�especially bears. An estimated 1,500 black bears reside in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I had attempted a Smokies end-to-end run six years ago and barely survived. A pollution-induced asthma attack during the run stranded me on the trail. Ironically, my run was intended to promote clean air, but the orange-alert ozone day in the Smokies that summer day had constricted my chest and airways, leaving me wheezing and unable to walk 10 feet without stopping to catch my breath. By nightfall, I had stumbled across an open bald before nearly colliding with a bear in the moonless, dark night. Without a headlamp, I used the glow light of my watch to read a trail sign pointing the way to Spence Field shelter, where I was able to get water and rest. By morning, pollution levels in the park had fallen and my breathing had recovered, and I was able to finish the run. But my wife suffered even more than I had on that run. She had hiked in to meet me at a shelter along the trail to provide food, water, and a headlamp, but when I did not arrive that night, she feared the worst. She spent a sleepless night at the shelter, where she was visited by a large bear, wondering whether I was lost, mauled, or dead. We tearfully reunited at Fontana the next morning, but the pollution-induced respiratory attack had profoundly shaken me. However, I wasn�t going to let coal-fired power plant pollution keep me away from the Smokies forever. Six years later, I decided to return for another end-to-end run. This time, I was running to help bring an end to mountaintop removal mining, in which coal companies blow up Appalachian mountains and dump the toxic debris into adjacent streams. Cancers and diseases are rampant in mountaintop removal areas. Dozens of mountain communities have been destroyed, 1,200 miles of rivers have been buried and poisoned, and 470 mountains have been beheaded. Another five proposed mountaintop removal sites are within 50 miles of Great Smoky Mountains National Park. On June 25, 2009, I began my run across the Smokies to end mountaintop removal. Just two days earlier, Daryl Hannah, NASA scientist Dr. James Hansen, and dozens of other activists were arrested at a mountaintop removal protest. I hoped my journey could educate visitors to the most visited�and most polluted�national park in the country about the devastating health impacts of mountaintop removal. My friend, Chris Weller, dropped me off at Davenport Gap on the eastern edge of the Smokies at 5am. In the dark, I carried a small flashlight to guide me up the muddy trail towards Mount Cammerer. I also had a fanny pack with two water bottles and a third hand-held bottle, since I would be on my own for most of the day and temperatures were expected to climb quickly into the high 80s. By mile 3, I felt blisters forming on my heels. I couldn�t believe it. My feet rarely blister, but I was wearing relatively new shoes, and I had kicked a lot of grit from the wet, muddy trail into the heels of the shoes. I was also hiking steeply, and the sharp angle of my feet in the shoes also may have encouraged the blisters to form. Regardless, I was pretty frustrated. To keep my mind off the pain of the blisters�and the thought of 70+ miles with blistered heels�I sang children�s songs. My one-year-old son River was on my mind, so I sang one of his favorites, �Peace Like a River,� all the way to Cammerer. Keeping a peaceful, fluid running form�and attitude�would be critical to reaching the finish, so I kept the musical mantra in my mind all day. The blisters worsened as they broke open and rubbed raw, but I kept focused on the beauty around me, especially the lush forests and cool breezes rolling off 6,000-foot Mount Guyot. I soon reached Tri-Corner Knob and refilled my water bottles at a trailside spring. My good friends Mark and Anne Lundblad had encountered a large bear at Tri Corner Knob just a few weeks earlier, so I said a quick prayer of thanks to the bears and other creatures who were allowing me to pass through their home. The blisters were less painful on downhills, so I sailed briskly down to Pecks Corner and again refilled water bottles. From here began a long waterless stretch across a narrow ridgeline�called the Sawteeth because the thin jagged ridge dropped precipitously on either side. I soaked in the incredible views of North Carolina to the left and Tennessee to the right, with the narrow, briar-choked trail straddling the state line. The sun was blazing high in the sky now, so I pulled out my hat and dug in for several climbs up to Icewater Spring, then danced down the boulder-lined trail into Newfound Gap. It had taken me 7 hours, 10 minutes to reach Newfound Gap. Chris was waiting in the parking lot wearing his END MOUNTAINTOP REMOVAL t-shirt and distributing information to the hundreds of hikers congregated there. I refueled quickly and left Newfound Gap five minutes later, eager to tackle one of the toughest climbs of the day�the eight-mile trek to Clingmans Dome. My blisters had been pounded into an uncomfortably numb state. I was reminded of their presence with each step, but I was not debilitated by the pain. I kept a steady pace in the midday heat, careful not to overexert myself and trigger a respiratory attack. On this hot summer day, pollution levels were again expected to reach a code orange alert. This time, I was taking ibuprofen to help keep reduce bronchial inflammation and keep my airways open. Two hours later, I arrived atop Clingmans Dome and eagerly plunged down the back side. I felt a renewed vigor as I slalomed down to Double Spring Shelter and summated Silers Bald. But soon the mid-afternoon sun and heat took its toll, and by the time I began the approach to Thunderhead Mountain, my pace began to slow. The ascent of Thunderhead featured the steepest, rockiest climbs of the entire trail, including a few sections where I used all-fours to scramble up. The descents were equally sharp, with jagged boulders poking out of the trail. I clambered up numerous false summits, only to see the dark shadow of Thunderhead high in the distance. I had failed to refill my third water bottle at Derrick Knob Shelter, so I soon ran out of water on the climb to Thunderhead. When I finally reached the wooden sign at its summit, I had another couple of miles across overgrown, deeply rutted, ankle snapping trail to Rocky Top and then Spence Field. The sun baked the exposed, open balds, slaking my thirst and reducing my pace to a trudge. And my chest was tightening and my breathing was getting shallow. I finally hopped down the water-bar lined trail and arrived at Spence Field, where Chris had hiked in to meet me with food, water, and a headlamp. I checked my watch: 6:30pm. I still had 17 miles to go, and only two more hours of daylight. I forced myself to eat a muffin and some strawberries before dragging my body back onto the trail. I was hot, hungry, nauseated, oxygen-deprived, and dispirited. Then I saw the sign�the Spence Field Shelter sign I had read by watch-light that probably saved my life six years ago. Suddenly all of the emotion from that experience came flooding back. I picked up my pace on the dirt-packed downhill to Russell Field Shelter, where my wife had been stranded. Soon I was flying toward Mollie�s Ridge. I was pouring everything I had into running fast, smooth, and peaceful, like a river. I wanted to cover as many miles as possible before dark, so I pushed myself up Mollie�s Ridge and then Doe Knob. But I had run out of water again, and still had 7 miles to go. I made it to Birch Spring a few miles later and could hear a wheezing in my throat as I scampered down a side trail to refill my water bottles one last time. It was completely dark now. I strapped on my headlamp, whose beam was not very strong, so I ended up holding it my hand for the final five miles. A few sneaky hills still remained, including a steep ascent up to Shuckstack. My legs were badly beaten up from the fast pace, but I slung my body up Shuckstack and began the screaming four mile descent to Fontana. I could barely see the trail with my faint headlamp, and I was moving as nimbly as I could over rocks and roots on the sharply turning trail. My quads and knees were getting pounded by the fast pace. My blistered feet were on fire. I checked my watch and saw that a sub-17 hour finish was possible. But I could not go any faster with the limited vision I had. One time, I let my body accelerate on a steep downhill only to fly off the side of the trail and crash into a briar patch; another time, I opened up my stride a bit and started really flying, only to stumble down a sudden drop in the trail and nearly face-plant into a boulder. I could see the lights of Fontana Dam, but the punishing trail continued to snake down the ridge in a seemingly endless series of switchbacks. There were several blowdowns in the final two miles, including a giant tree with all its leaves and branches blocking the trail for about 50 feet. I slashed through the tangle of limbs, but could not find the trail on the other side. I continued to wrestle through the branches, searching for the trail, which had twisted sharply above me. I clambered back onto to the trail continued pounding downhill. Finally the trail spit me out onto the paved road leading to Fontana. After several miles of bracing down the dark downhills, I opened up my stride and let it rip. The lights of Fontana Dam glowed through the trees and glistened off the lake. I poured everything I had left into the final stretch and finished in 16 hours, 53 minutes. I found out later that my time had tied the speed record; Knoxville elite runner Bob Adams ran exactly the same time just a few months earlier this year. Afterward, I lay on the concrete beside the visitor center and listened the sound of the water pouring over the dam. A sliver of moon hung over the lake. I soaked up the starlight and the silhouette of the mountains. Just a few miles away, mountains as beautiful as these were being dynamited and dumped, poisoning the communities that live near these operations�just to get at the last remaining seams of coal. My 72-mile run would probably do nothing to stop more mountains from being beheaded and more people from dying. I never felt so small. And at the same time, in the shadows of ancient mountains, I never felt more inspired to keep fighting. To learn more about mountaintop removal mining and your connection to it, visit ilovemountains.org. For photos and additional information about the Smokies End-to-End Run, visit milesformountains.wordpress.com.

Epic shut in needs sponsors

The epic shut in trail ridge run is coming up again in Asheville in November but it needs sponsors now. After 30 something years this race still fills everytime, but costs are mounting so sponsors are so important for events like this one. Because of the economy and too many people offering events in Asheville, participation is dropping and the good races are souring. Help us keep the shut in race going to the top of Mt. Pisgah at the same blistering stride this year by spreading the word. As you know this race brings people from all over and has appeal for national and local sponsors. Contact us at staff@gatherlogic.com to help or visit www.gatherlogic.com

Copper Canyon ultra

Hello all, Although I mainly promote races in Western NC, we have just set up an international event channel...interesting submission today: March 7, 2010 Copper Canyons, Mexico www.caballoblanco.com I posted the race info. on my blog at www.gatherlogic.com or you can check it out at their website, but for a non-commerical event it seems to be the thing out in those parts. Jonathan Poston

Jonathan's Massanutten Mountain Trails 100 Report

The MMT100 is generally considered the toughest 100 mile race east of the Rockies, and one of the toughest in the US. Some of that toughness comes from the elevation change, which is about 20,000 feet of ascent and the same descent. However, the real challenge is the rough trails. Some of the trails are good running, and some of the trail is rocky and you have to work on where to put your feet. However, a significant portion of the course is so rocky there is nowhere flat to put your feet. For many runners, a good chunk of MMT is not runnable; in fact, it is tough walking, let alone running.

Highlights

Buzzard Rock. The first part of the race starts easy, a road section, a nice trail, then a solid climb up to Buzzard Rock. It is on Buzzard Rock that I get some of the best views, and also my first taste of what the course was really like - rocky! The narrow ridge immediately starts to tear at my feet, which are not impressed.

Habron Gap. This is the aid station at 24.5 miles, and time for me to check out the feet. Sadly the news is not good; I have blisters that require bursting. To have problems after less than 25 miles is grim news and I have to make some hard choices. There is no way I can continue running at a reasonable pace without my feet being completely destroyed before the end. The wise course of action is to drop at this point, but I decide that by taking it easy, I can finish. (I'm still not sure if I made the right choice or not - I'll have to wait and see how badly my feet scar from the blisters.) At Habron I leave my water bottle and put on my hydration pack. Up to this point the temperatures have only been warm and the aid stations reasonably close together. From here on, you need to carry a lot more fluid. I also pick up my first iPod and I really appreciate the tunes!

To camp Roosevelt. The next stage is a hard climb with a lot of sun and temperatures rising sharply. I pass a runner I know who is having a problem with the heat - heart rate elevated, flushed, dizzy and generally unhappy. I am worried about him, but he is resting and he seems coherent. At this point, heat stroke is a real possibility, but I feel well equipped (legionnaires hat, white under armor heat gear top, full hydration pack). I've done a little heat adaptation training the previous weeks, and so I progress well. But I find myself out of fluid two miles before the Camp Roosevelt aid station, and I am grateful for the TLC I receive there. I'm not dehydrated too much, but I realize I need to conserve fluids even with a 72oz hydration pack.

First rain. On the way to the next aid station, Gap Creek, the heat gives way to the first rain of the day. It's not too heavy, but I don a rain cover and keep moving to the visitor center aid station. At the visitor center aid station, the rain had died out, so I pack a better waterproof, and start the climb to Bird Knob.

Storm on Bird Knob. Without the rain, things warm up quickly, with humid conditions and a steep climb. Then the first big storm of the race hits, with lightning and rain heavy enough to reduce visibility. I am amazed at how quickly I go from being too hot to shivering in the cold and struggling to get a rain coat on. (It's not often you get heat exhaustion and hypothermia in the same race.) With just my thin top and the waterproof jacket, I have to push the pace a little to keep warm. I am worried about anyone caught up here without waterproofs, as hypothermia would set in very quickly. I only spend a few moments at the bird knob aid station, as I need to keep moving to keep warm. The decent from Bird Knob is tough, with the rain and poor light as the sun sets. I take my only fall of the face here, slipping down a slick rock. Luckily, I am wearing padded cycling mitts, which protect my hands from the worst of the fall, otherwise that would have been a nasty way to DNF. I notice on my decent that one of my two lights is malfunctioning - it's my new, ultra-bright headlight, which is bad news.

Leaving picnic area. Leaving the picnic area aid stations is an emotional low point of the race. My primary headlight is not working, leaving me with my secondary, waist mounted Petzl; this is a great light source for most conditions, but it is not up to the challenge. The rain is torrential, and it is like navigating a bayou - there is no solid ground, and I have to guess were the path is. Trying to find the trial markers is very hard at this point, and I cannot even make out a real path. Just as I am beginning to feel a little lost and overwhelmed, two other runners appear and between us, we work out the route. After we leave this low lying area, the path becomes much clearer. I am so grateful for their company; I feel like I have been rescued after weeks lost in the wilderness, not just ten minutes of fumbling in the dark.

The night. The group of runners expands to five of us, moving through the night, keeping company and looking after each other. We share resources, including clothing, as well as encouragement and advise. Various storms come and go through the night, with strong winds at times. In the gaps in the rain, the fog limits visibility, but it seems to be raining more often than not. There are stream crossings, some of them swollen, and in the dark they are unpleasant - crossing ink black, fast moving water, with no idea of the depth or your footing is not fun. There are also sections of the trail which are now streams, so we are wading through cold water for what seems like forever. My primary headlight comes back to life, and is a thing of joy - the beam of light is brilliant and illuminates the trail far ahead, picking up the trial markers easily. In fact, with a good headlight, it is easier to navigate at night, as the reflective trail markers can be picked up far ahead at a glance. The bright light also reduces the feeling of confinement, increasing the size of my world from a few feet to the curves in the trail. At night we try to stop only briefly at the aid stations, though the second time we go through Gap Creek they have a huge fire going, and the runners who have dropped there look so peaceful and comfortable. Leaving the fire is remarkably hard. The trip up and over short mountain is legendry within the race, not because of the climb, but the rocky terrain becomes even harder at night.

2nd Dawn. When the second dawn rises, it is just a dull glow behind dense clouds, but to us it is a thing of immense beauty. If you have never experienced it, you cannot imagine how the second dawn gives hope and imbues strength. It is like a rebirth. I also start to use my second iPod, a shuffle I purchased for the race - music inspires the savage beast ;}

Later stages. From the second dawn to the final aid station at 97 miles are uneventful. Not quite a death march, but a steady movement, with occasional runs where possible. My feet have been cold and wet for about 28 hours, which is a mixed blessing. The cold keeps them numb and prevents swelling, but I know that they are undergoing some significant damage, and I refuse to look at them. Sleep deprivation creates a few odd minor hallucinations, but experience means I don't take them serious. One of our group sees a complete aid station, along with tent, tables, and people, which is the most frustrating hallucination, as it gets our hopes up.

Final section. The last five miles, from Elizabeth Furnace at mile 97 (it's 102 miles total) is remarkably nasty. This is a climb up and then a descent to the finish, but five miles at the pace we are making takes forever. Luckily, about two miles out we are joined by a few runners who want to finish as a large group. They join us a the point where the trail flattens out and becomes runnable, with a number of stream crossings to numb the feet. I am really glad I had the group, as the last section leaves you feeling you are at the finish for a long time. I cross the finish line with 9 other runners and a pacer, which appears on the MMT web site as a video.

Aftermath. My feet took way too much damage on MMT. I have over a dozen blisters, one of them about four square inches. If I had normal skin, I would shrug this off as some temporary suffering, but with RDEB, each blister is likely to cause permanent scaring. When RDEB scars, the scars are far weaker than the original skin, making further blistering more likely. I won't know for some time if my decision to continue the MMT was a catastrophic mistake or not. (I actually have "non-Hallopeau-Siemens Recessive Dystrophic Epidermolysis Bullosa" for those with a medical interest.)

My Tips for MMT100

Don't do MMT unless you are very strong on very tough terrain.

Don't do MMT as a first 100 miler. Seriously.

I used a single water bottle for the first 25 miles, travelling lighter and faster, then swapped to a hydration pack. I think this is a good approach unless the conditions are extremely hot at the start.

There are a lot of stream crossings - forget about swapping shoes/socks to keep your feet dry.

The last section is long and tough - be ready for it mentally.

Carry a waterproof and thin thermal at all times - a thunderstorm can create hypothermia quickly.

Print off a chart of the aid stations, with cut of times and distances. I laminated mine and kept it in a pocket, but I should have turned it into a wrist band.

Print out the detailed route and keep it somewhere safe. I never needed mine, but it was nice to have if you get off course.

The aid station volunteers at MMT are amazing - they offer a lot of TLC in addition to the practical care. Be nice to them; they are the unsung heroes of the race.

Things that worked well for me

New Petzl MYO RXP headlight - amazingly bright!

Nathan 020 hydration pack. This was the most common pack on the race and worked great for me. I use a Camelbak bladder in mine, as I like it more than the Nathan version that comes with the pack. http://blog.irunfar.com/2008/10/nathan-hpl-020-review.html

Wearing cycling mitts saved my hands after a fall

I did not eat at the aid stations. Instead, I used a quart Ziploc bag and filled it with goodies at each aid station, then ate on the move. I ate more and saved time.

PB&H. I mixed peanut butter, honey and flax oil together, then put it into a squeeze tube (http://www.rei.com/product/696007). This is an amazing food; easy to eat, tasty and highly nutritious. Make it up so it is only slightly sweet.

I did a few heat adaption runs in the two weeks preceding the race. Running in 60 degree weather with long pants and thermal tops is horrible, but it worked.

I think my high mileage training worked well. I did four 20 mile runs a week, which gave me a lot of strength.

I did one overnight run which helped me get used to the night and sleep deprivation. I did a 20 in the morning, then did an easy 40 with some good friends that night.

My Sierra Designs waterproof - only weighs 4oz.

The new Under Armor long sleeved heat gear top. I have a white one to reflect the heat, it is UPF 30+ and anti-odor.

Don't think about what to eat. Just look at the food, smell it and see what appeals. I believe that the subconscious understands far more about what the body needs and has great insight - just go with what appeals. If I'm not hungry, I don't push it - I rely on my body letting me know what it wants. The Ziploc bag of goodies really helps here - you can take food for later on the trail when the munchies strike.

Abstaining from caffeine for a couple of weeks before the race seems to help.

I think my recovery is speeded up by high protein intake, lots of organic cocoa powder, vitamin C and bathing the feet in Epson salts.

What I ate
I got through about 6 peanut butter cups. I ate a huge number of cookies, which seem to work well for me, as well as cheeseits. Also, a three slices of pizza, a hotdog, PB&J sandwiches, 3x 6oz tubes of PB+Honey+Flax Oil mix, lots of broth, a few gu, ~3 gallons Gatorade (probably not enough), pancakes+syrup (too messy), toasted cheese sandwiches (awesome!), m&ms, Ramen noodles, electrolyte capsules, red bull (though not much to my surprise)

Chasing Adventure on the Appalachain Trail

When I heard that Adam Hill was planning to run 24 hours on the Appalachian Trail the first weekend of May I knew that I wanted to be part of that adventure. Springtime in the Southern Appalachians is especially pleasant, and Adam's run was on a section of the AT that was new to me. I arranged for my professional crew (Melinda and the Boys) to help out, booked a vacation day at work, and started to get excited.

We left Cary on Friday morning, drove to Asheville and met Adam at his home, then off to the Nantahalla Outdoor Center for last minute supplies, and finally to the Wesser Bald Tower, where we started our run at 6 PM.

The Nantahala section of the Appalachian Trail heads south from Nantahala Gorge and takes a winding path toward Georgia. Looking South-east from Wesser Bald you can see a chain of 5000-foot mountain ridges and peaks that seems to go on forever. Knowing that these peaks were the same ground that we would be running on made the view all the more impressive.

My goal for the 24-hour run was 60 miles. This goal was uninformed by experience with that section of trail itself, but was a good goal for me nevertheless because I've run on adjacent sections more than once. I also read several reports on the southern section of the Appalachain. Much of the appeal of the run for me was seeing new trail. Anyone who has tried running or speed hiking on the Appalachian Trail knows that you can never move as fast as you think you should be moving. Rocks, steep climbs and descents, excursions to fiind water, and pauses to take in the views chip away at your miles-per-hour. On the positive side, there is the beauty of the southern appalachians and, in this case, a designated wilderness area.

As Adam and I took off South at 6pm I knew we would be having separate adventures. Two runners, two crews. As Adam took off down the mountain I was able to keep him in sight for more than a mile, but we were each running into the night alone.

At Wayah gap, just a couple of miles into the run I encountered a female backpacker sitting in the middle of the road smoking a ciggarette. She said her ankle hurt and she couldn't go any farther. I told her she should try walking up the road to Wayah bald instead of the trail, and then continued on. Less than four miles later I rolled my right ankle hard on an easy section of trail, which I thought was slightly ironic. As I worked the pain out of the ankle I wondered how well it would hold up through the night. (It turns out it held up well).

Soon after encountering the female backpacker sitting in the middle of the road, I looked up and Saw Eric Fogleman backpacking with his wife. I saw Eric only 6 days earlier at the Promise Land 50k. What are the chances of such an encounter?

Darkness and rain came around the same time. Running this section of the trail in the dark is enjoyable. Every few minutes I caught glimpses of Franklin, NC to my left in the distance. The sensation was not unlike seeing city lights from an Airplane window. Not too long after 10 pm I started to get very sleepy and had to fight to keep my eyes open. After the run I attributed my sleepiness to the zyrtec I was taking for allergies, and also to the mistake I made of putting too much maltodextrin in my water, which prevented my stomach from emptying and thus deprived me of blood sugar.

I arrived at Mooney gap at Midnight wet, tired, and glad to see my crew. I told Melinda I was going to take a short nap. The rain stopped and I spread my sleeping bag out on the ground, crawled in, and went to sleep. I soon awakened shivering and determined that my wet running clothes were making me cold. I climbed out of my bag and took off all my clothes to the point that I was only wearing a heart monitor. I mentioned to Melinda that I was totally nude at Mooney gap, which I thought was very funny.

My short nap turned out to be more than three hours. Napping only six hours into a 24-hour run is not necessarily a good strategy. I had no regrets because I minimized the nighttime hours of solo running, and my nap also gave my crew a chance to nap. A major bonus of the nap was the sight of the sun coming up right when I climbed up to the summit of Standing Indian mountain.

The abbreviated nighttime run was not without some of the special charms of moving through the woods in the dark. I saw several pairs of eyes reflecting my headlamp's light back at me, and one of the pairs looked like it was from a big head. I saw many salamanders squiggling across the trail in front of me. There must be trillions of salamanders in the Southern Appalachians. And the distant city lights shimmering from the lower elevations were pleasant.

I met Melinda and the boys a deep gap and spent some relaxing time there refueling and enjoying some banter with the boys. For some reason I thought that the high elevations were done now that I had descended from Standing Indian mountain. Yet soon after climbing Chunky Gal mountain my GPS displayed 4700 feet - almost 5000.

During the run I had been using my iPhone to update Melinda of my forward progress using text messaging. I was also texting my Twitter account. Somewhere up on Chunky Gal mountain I noticed that I had a couple of phone messages from Adam. I called Adam and learned that he had just ended his run at 64+ miles. My next meeting point with my Crew was Dicks Creek Gap, 52 miles. I was feeling good and moving along well to my satisfaction but was fearing the long 12 mile section from Dicks Creek to Unicoi gap. I told Adam I would be done with my run at Dicks Creek and we could get together there and hang out with our crews.

I enjoyed the last miles of the run, from Chunky Gal mountain to Dicks Creek Gap immensely. A lot of the enjoyment came from knowing that I was almost finished. Yet this is also a runnable section with excellent views and a couple of beautiful gurgling springs that I drank from directly. I rolled into Dicks Creek Gap around 1pm, 52 miles on the AT, satisfied that I was making good time when I wasn't napping, and generally feeling pretty good.

My ankle did end up swollen and ugly but did not cause my any pain or instability during the run, and now has healed up well. Unfortunately we never met up with Adam and his crew, because the sky broke loose with thundering rain as soon as I arrived and we left to escape the deluge. Melinda, the boys, and I enjoyed a fun evening in Murphy and a nice leisurely drive home Sunday morning. All in all an excellent adventure with some priceless trail memories.

I've Got A Hankerin' for some Double Mint Gum

By Adam Hill

The weekend of May 2nd I had the pleasure of spending two (really three) days on the trail in what turned out to be some stellar running! I have done the "double" workout before, but this brought it to a whole new level for me. On May 1st, my good running friend, Mike Day, and I jumped in a car with his wife and three of his kids, and took off for the mountains! Our plan...to run for 24 hours on the AT starting at Wayah Bald heading south. Our goal...have fun and see just how far our legs and the trail would allow us to go!?!

We had planned on starting at 6 pm on Friday from Wayah Bald, then run until 6 pm Saturday. We arrived at the summit parking lot at 5:30 and after a few minutes of tossing the football around with Mike's son's (Thomas, Kevin, and Sam) I started getting my things together. My crew person was to be another running friend coming in from Knoxville, Andrew Moore. Andrew was to meet Mike's wife, Melinda, at Winding Stair Gap 10 miles in, so that he could gather my things together as he was about to follow me through the night on my journey into Georgia. Sure enough, we cranked up our running at 6 pm on a cloudy evening and began our descent off of this beautiful bald. The wildflowers were everywhere, and even though there were still no leaves on the trees, the forest floor was quite lush. I was pumped to see the large flowered trillium in bloom, along with Mayapples, crested dwarf irises, and countless others that I didn't know the names of.

I felt great and was cruising along at a good pace running almost every hill as I approached the side of Siler's Bald. I came around the corner and was somewhat startled to see Andrew sitting at the corner of the field! He had come up the trail to run with me into the first aid stop! We had a great time running, and the weather was perfect, even though some storms were looming overhead.

I didn't spend too long at Winding Stair Gap, and was quickly off on the trail again. I rounded a few corners on my climb out of there and started to smell the fresh soil. I absolutely love the smell of the mountains, but this fresh smell of soil was quite potent, and I couldn't figure out why until I rounded the next bend and saw over a dozen wild hogs running along the slopes below me! They stopped and snorted a bit, but did not act agressive, so I just softly spoke to them as I cruised on by.

I was still feeling really good but was becoming slightly worried about my caloric intake as my stomach had been sloshin' around since Siler's Bald, and I couldn't figure out what was up. I ran up to Rock Gap just before dark, and made quick work of the aid stop there before taking off to head up Albert Mountain. This was an absolute blast, and even though it started raining fairly steadily, I was in good spirits, although still a little concerned about my stomach issues. I navigated the rocky descent from Albert quite carefully, given the wet surface, and came up on Mooney Gap where Andrew had a sweet set up for me with a tarp strung up for me to get dry (he rocked the house!!)! I spent a little bit more time here, as I knew had a longer stretch coming up along with a tough climb up Standing Indian Mountain.

The rain grew more steady along this stretch, and although it was a bit foggy, I was still moving fairly consistently. After a brief bathroom pit stop near the summit of Standing Indian, I again bumped into Andrew on the trail! It was great to have him to run with off of the mountain, and before I knew it his car emerged from the mist and fog at Deep Gap.

Andrew was going to drop aid at Dick's Creek Gap, then drive to camp out and get some shut-eye on the other side of Tray Mountain at Tray Gap, so I left out of Deep Gap with my Ultimate Directions running pack filled with drink and goodies. I couldn't believe how technical the trail was after leaving Deep Gap, and my pace seemed to slow considerably given this tough climb through a virtual boulder field of a trail. Again with some stomach sloshiness, but laughing all the way as I was still having loads of fun! I was looking forward to my first step into Georgia. After that first technical mile or two, the rest of North Carolina was great and the roller coaster was a little more smooth.

There was no mistaking the gnarled tree at Bly Gap, and I high-fived the NC/GA sign as I cruised on by! I arrived at Dick's Creek Gap pretty high on life, but pretty low on calories! My stomach sloshiness was finally fading, but the muscles in my quads were starting to feel a little beat up considering the amount of trail that had been forced to cover with very little fuel entering my system...as by now the thought of another gel or chew made me want to gag. It was 6:30 in the morning as I headed up the next big climb.

I marveled in the plethora of wildflowers that were presenting themselves in the morning light. I crossed my arms around behind my back and just started to enjoy this stroll through the woods. After a couple of hours, the climb was over, and I started to run some more, but my knees were having none of it, so I slowed to a hike again. I would repeat this pattern thousands of times over the next 7 miles or so, and it became increasingly frustrating. I soaked up the views when I finally arrived at the summit of Tray Mountain, being thrilled to be there, but I figured in my mind that this may be the last view of the day.

I thudded with each step off of it's rocky summit letting out audible noises of pain with each footstrike. I saw Andrew at his car in the gap and ran the few switchbacks feigning comfort and confidence, but I knew that my adventure on the AT was over...17 hours and 62.4 miles from where it began! (Thanks to Matthew Johnson, who had also been enlisted aid help, for the ride home!)

Fastforward to Sunday afternoon, and I was enjoying sippin' on some of Asheville's finest brews while kicking my feet up in one of our deck chairs. As I listened to the wind blow through the leaves and some tunes reverberate through the speakers, I began to feel an aching in my legs. This, however, was not the type of aching that I would have expected, as the soreness had pretty much already subsided for the most part and I was feeling like I had recovered quickly from the 100k effort from a day ago. As I sat there, I began a self assessment as to what madness was creeping through my veins, and decided that it was the siren call of our mighty mountains! Alas, I longed to creep out into the forested night again and was already formulating another adventure in my mind. As I then walked along barefooted in the backyard with my dog, Duke, I also began to assess just how my body might handle another adventure on the trail. Everything appeared to be in good working order after having a "systems failure" on the AT. I had spent 17 hours sockless in my Asics Hyperspeeds on some pretty technical trail, so I also checked in on the "dogs" to see what their input might be...all good...well, we'll see!?!

At 4:30 a.m., I stepped out of my front door, again sockless, but this time in one of my all-time favorite shoes...my NB 152's. I put on some music and began down the road while This Might Destroy You's album, Young Mountain, was just cranking up...wow, that seemed pretty appropriate. It is only a mile from my house to the Mountains to Sea Trail, and then about 10 miles from there to the French Broad River, where I would begin up the infamous 18 mile Shut In Ridge Trail. The night air and the dirt underfoot felt great...yep, I was loving being back out on the trails! I was hoping to make it all the way to Mount Pisgah before my wife, Suzanne, would come and pick me up.

It took a couple of hours to get in the groove, but shortly after that, I found myself heading through the rhododendren tunnel just off of Hwy 191 as I entered the beginning of the Shut In! I was hoping to make good time on the Shut In, and my legs were now feeling up to the task, so I muscled up the 20% grade in earnest. By this time more appropriate music was entering into the stratosphere between my ears...ah, Explosions In the Sky. Up we go!!

The clouds were parting, the threat of rain receded, and I continued to run stronger. I was having a blast, then just before getting to Bent Creek Gap, I got a call from Suzanne (yes, I had to carry my cell phone on this adventure...oh well). Urgency set in, as the clock was now ticking, and I had some really tough miles to cover as she was getting ready to get in the car to come and get me. Fortunately she had a few errands to run before heading up the Parkway. I was doubtful at this point that I would make it to the Shut In "finish" before she would get me, and we had a busy day ahead of us (which would make it tough for me to convince her to continue following me up the trail).

My left knee was starting to hurt a little bit on the downhills as well, but fortunately my journey was mostly uphill on my quest to Mt. Pisgah! I was still feeling refreshed to be out on the trail and couldn't believe that I was eating up the trail so quickly (considering that my legs were not "fresh" by any means). As I made my way through the rocky, serpentine-like trail between Mills River Overlook and Hwy 151, I began to think about the last "infamous" two miles of the Shut In. I called Suzanne just before approaching the Parkway crossing to find out that she was indeed heading towards the Parkway and would be "nose up" on the road in search for me in a matter of minutes! "I'll race ya" I said! I hung up the phone, threw a bunch of sport beans into my mouth, put my head down, and started cranking up the trail just past 151.

I switched back to This Might Destroy You, which again seemed accurate, as this stretch of the trail is known to eat it's young, then spit them back out on the other side battered and bruised with tear stained cheeks! I just couldn't believe how good I felt, but made it hurt by giving it my all! Just before I began up the last super steep incline, this song came through the headphones and as the climax of the song crept closer, I crested the top of Little Pisgah and began my final descent! Oh the rush of leaping off of those final steps into the parking lot and letting out a cry of joy and exhaustion! 27 minutes for that last stretch! I was pumped!! I didn't see Suzanne (YES! I had outkicked the Odyssey), so I ran to Buck Creek Gap on the other side of the parking area and sprawled out in the grass with a big grin on my face!

As my wonderful wife pulled into the parking space behind me, I was sitting there soaking up the views and wondering about this fascinating Creation that we have so little time to marvel in...that of these wonderful mountains, hills, and valleys...and that of the human body! Here's to the shedding off of those worldly limitations, and here's to taking a chance with everything that you've got!

peace.adam

Run in the Sierra Nevada

37 miles run in this fantastic place : the Sierra Nevada, from the Sequoia National Park. A wonderful track, the High Sierra Trail, run from sequoia grove to the high sierra scenery. The goal was to reach the Kaweah Pass at 10000ft and come back, in a 37 miles run. But it was early in spring, and snow complicated the advance. I had to turn back 1 mile before my goal because of a slippery snow patch making the crossing over too dangerous. I ran all the day, with many stops to take pictures and enjoy the extraordinary views. Wildlife is luxurious : I saw coyotes, deers, marmots. But the intense moment was the bear encounter : face to face with a huge beast. I was suddenly scared, but not as him : he flied with an incredible speed ! Other difficulty was the rivers crossing : the meltdown made the stream very strong and tumultuous, very cold and dangerous. Scenery was absolutely amazing. No word can describe the incredible views, even pictures cannot catch the immensity of this place. A part of me probably stayed there... My pictures are on my site : www.runtheplanet.fr (expeditions tab, then choose your album...)

Annette Bednosky to Compete in World 24-hour Championship

This Saturday and Sunday, Annette Bednosky will be competing in the World 24-hour championship in Bergamo, Italy. Annette earned a spot on the USA National team with her 122-mile performance at the Freedom Park Ultra.

The run starts 4am EDT Saturday, May 2nd. Check here for live updates. Annette mentions in her blog that the Female entrants have qualified with runs of 99-149 miles. Visit Annette's blog and leave a comment of support!

Denise Davis gets SCAR'ed

photo: Denise Davis

On March 21-22nd, Denise Davis completed the Smokies Challenge Adventure Run, also known as SCAR (see also here, here, and here), joining a small but growing group of adventurers who have met this formidable trail challenge.

Make certain to read Denise's report of the adventure, it's one of the best accounts I've read of this challenge. As an enticement, here are some highlights:

SCAR is the acronym for the unofficial Smokies Challenge Adventure Run, a one-day unsupported 72 mile run on the Appalachian Trail across the crest of the Smoky Mountains National Park. It gains over 18,000 feet in elevation and you only have one opportunity for aid or to quit. What first got me interested in this run was an article a friend had sent me years ago, about a woman who had run across the Smokies in two days, stopping at Newfound Gap and then coming back the next day to finish it. This was before I started trail running and I knew most hikers took five days or more to cross the Smokies. I was impressed and that article stuck with me.

I decided this year that I would try SCAR as a training run for the Massanutten. After I finished it yesterday, in retrospect I realized that I should have done the Massanutten as a training run for SCAR.

There is some interest in organizing another attempt at SCAR the first week of May. Please let me know if any of you are interested. Also see the SCAR entry at WNC Trailrunner.

Ridgeline 60k this Weekend

The Crowder's Mountain 50k is a historic North Carolina ultramarathon with a great course and a hard-core group of repeat finishers. This year the run is different in a couple of key aspects. First, it is now a 30k one-way course with the option of running the whole course twice for a 60k ultramarathon. The course covers new ground including portions of Kings Mountain, which is the site of a famous battle from the Revolutionary War.

This year, the run is being held on the same date as the Umstead 100. The date conflict is intentional. Co-RD Ray Krolewicz correctly pointed out that since Umstead sold out in an hour or so, many area utrarunners will not be participating in the 100 mile run this year, so an alternative on the same weekend makes a lot of sense.

Another benefit is that the race location spans both North and South Carolina. Races that cover two states are cool. Also, if you wanted to purchase some fireworks for the 4th of July, South Carolina has more liberal laws regarding what you can buy!

If all these benefits are not enough, think about pairing the Ridgeline 60k with Mohammed Idlibi's Roan Mountain adventure run. Both Ridgeline and Roan Mountain connect to the Overmountain Victory trail. Roan Mountain is near the Western terminus of the overmountain trail, while King's Mountain is the Eastern Terminus. I'm planning on being there Saturday! Hopefully I'll see you too.

Ridgeline Entry Form.