sneak-a-peak

On Veterans Day, my dad, Scott, Carl and I set out to traverse the Black Mountains from Bowlens Creek to Cane River Gap, bagging ten of the SB6K peaks along the way. We rendezvoused and camped out at Cane River Gap on Tuesday night in questionable weather as the remnants of a tropical storm slowly scraped across the Appalachians.

For better or worse, we all decided to commit to this real Black Mountain Marathon and took off up the first 3000’+ climb the next morning. The Crest trail was a creek in many places. It continued to rain with no end in sight as we topped out on Celo, our first peak. We laughed and carried on in good company and high spirits to Gibbs, Winterstar, Cattail, Balsam Cone, Craig…







By the time we reached the evacuated summit of Mitchell, our crew was in various stages of discomfort. The wind had picked up, and it continued to rain. A sheltered thermometer on Mitchell indicated it was 35* F. No doubt, we were in dangerous conditions. We continued on to Hallback, which was to become our last 6er of the day. By this point, manual dexterity had failed so much that it had become difficult for us to hold up eight fingers to report our tally.

We descended to Steppes Gap and sought temporary shelter in an unlocked restroom at the ranger station. Here a unanimous decision was made to omit the last two summits and take the Wilson Boundary Rd. to Balsam Gap and the Big Butt Trail to Cane River Gap. We finished the 26-28 mile trek in something like 9 hours. Believe it or not, this endeavor was a lot of fun and helped boost my respect for what some cats have done.


Scott hung out in Marion for the remainder of the week. His presence helped me get out and running more than usual. On Saturday, Uwharrie and I caught a lift from him up to Adam’s 4th annual Gobbler 50K. There was a great gathering of 30+ runners. Adam’s fun runs continually get better and better.

We were gifted with a warm, sunny day to enjoy the smooth trails of Bent Creek; all this came as quite a contrast to Wednesday. We finished in under 4.5 hours. Mike helped me get back to Marion after the obligatory communal feast at Papas and Beer, which is not quite like Jalapenos. If you’re in the area, check out this fabulous restaurant!

if i only had a brain

As the cold weather arrives, I’ve been pondering how to travel on longer wilderness adventures safely and comfortably without adding much bulk and weight to the pack. Mo and Greg got me tuned back into these “miracle of science” suits.

A thought crossed my mind in my waking hours this morning: what about an insulated suit for an unplanned bivy? And what about integrating primitive survival skills for shelter with this 21st century technology?

What we have here is a potentially useful garment for about 1 pound, 10 bucks and 10 minutes of time. The concept is simple: procure two tyvek suits, put one inside the other and tape all the cuffs of the inner and outer suits together (legs, arms and collar).

Now if you find yourself in a forested biome, natural insulation should be pretty abundant and easy to come by. Unzip both suits and get in. Zip up the inner suit and begin to gather all the leaves and pine needles (omitting sticks where possible) you can, which will help generate warmth. Stuff the legs, arms and body of the suit through the zippered opening.

When dawn arrives and you find yourself alive, unzip and dump the leaves by pulling the suit inside out and give it a good shake before packing up. Or if you prefer, walk a while in your scarecrow attire and alert other hikers about the plague of the crazies.

Good luck.

mackey mtn. memorial run

Mackey Mountain is a monarch of McDowell County. But despite its powerful presence, it is seldom climbed. Because the mountain is relatively isolated in these parts of Pisgah, the most feasible route is about 10 miles roundtrip. This trail is notoriously rugged and overgrown. All this adds to the intrigue.

A 1997 Sierra Club map of the area (which I’ve yet to return to its rightful owner) shows a network of trails around Mackey. For the most part, these trails don’t exist anymore. After camping with Lily, Uwharrie and my dad at Curtis Creek on Friday night, I convinced my dad to join me for a 15-mile tour de Mackey.

The clockwise loop, with start/finish at Curtis Creek promised to be Barkley-esque. For at least half the way, we’d be bushwhacking. We took a wrong turn early on, but soon found our way down the Narrows and over the broad shoulders of Mackey. With the peak bagged, the challenge had just begun…

During our descent off Mackey, we missed the best opportunity to pass though an obscure gap west out of Deep Cove. We endured a laurel hell for two miles as we tripped, slid and cursed our way into the Laurel Fork basin. At this point, I noticed that my shins were starting to resemble pepperoni pizza.

Overjoyed to be able to run once more up Mackey Creek, we made our way up and over to Hickory Branch, the last climb of the day. We finished in 6.5 hours (just over 2 mph). There was quite a lot of climbing, but more than anything, it was the bushwhacking that slowed us down. Just the kind of preparation I need to be doing for Veterans Day.

apples to apples

Our Halloween weekend's chill was ushered in with a successful Friday stream study fieldtrip. A rainy Saturday helped me catch up on some much needed shut-eye. We made it over to the library and Foam & Fabric for some supplies... Lots of gear projects in the works, more on that to come...

Sunday, Lily dropped Uwharrie and me off at Woodlawn at noon to meet Mo for a trail run along the MST to Buck Creek Gap. She left the car and hopped on her roadie for a ride to Altapass along the parkway. I was to run the half-marathon distance in about 2 hours to pick up Lily's car and drive to Altapass to meet her, Jessica and Forrest for some late-season apple picking action in the orchard.

I forgot how BEASTLY this stretch of trail is. After catching up with Mo (who was on the last leg of his marathon run), Uwharrie and I upped the pace. The colors were still cranking on higher grounds, and our serving of fast-paced single-track, delicious. Ten minute miles shouldn't feel that tough. It's a reminder that the world ain't flat... Apples to apples: Uncle Matt needs to get back in shape, running slow isn't quite like running fast.

(... That's right, uncle. Congrats to Beck and Andy for the arrival of Cora Grace on 10/26!!!)

terra firma

(the best classroom is outside the classroom)

peak

kaleidoscope

milk & honey

pitchell

Chris Brown took this pic the morning before Pitchell

I've attempted Adam Hill’s Pitchell 100K+ three times now, but have yet to complete the challenge. It’s hard to explain. Certainly it isn’t the hardest traverse. Is it possible that I haven't taken this adventure seriously enough? Well, this year, I was definitely focused on finishing, but a whole slew of odds were stacked against us.

The week leading up to Pitchell was tough. Lily and I inevitably swapped germs. I had a low-grade fever, congestion and sore throat on Wednesday and Thursday during a conference in Chapel Hill. My plan of running Pitchell in reverse on Saturday was scrapped due to my slow recovery from illness. Meanwhile, schoolwork was starting to bog me down. I found myself considering whether to run at all.

On Friday, Byron wrote: “I got the weekend pass to play.” Recreate and reconnect with something real, the sane thing to do. Wait, Pitchell sane? A renewed urgency to run was born upon a profound frustration with an artificial world around me: apathetic and ignorant people of all ages; materialism, greed, shopping malls; a passive and detached status quo…


At 10:30PM Saturday night, eight of us reluctantly left the warmth of Brad’s van to start a 3+ mile approach to the summit of Mt. Pisgah from Hwy 151. The parkway was closed due to landslides and bad weather conditions. The wind howled and the flurries flew. We passed through tunnels that were like wind chambers. Near the end of the last tunnel, the crunch of ice underfoot reverberated loudly off the walls.

We walked briskly. Conversation among kindred spirits refreshed me. Soon, however, the silence of awe set in. We had entered a true winter wonderland in mid-October. Everything was covered in snow 1000’ below the summit of Pisgah.

We climbed forever in the snow. The ice crystals reflected our lights, illuminating the overburdened rhododendron ahead of us. Finally, a red cloud (eerily illuminated by tower lights) swallowed us onto the summit and into distant memory. The run officially started at 11:50PM on Saturday.

I’m usually not accustomed to bringing up the rear, but for some reason on Pitchell, it’s par for the course. Dying batteries in my headlamp could partly be to blame this time. Fortunately, there were some extras in the van. My body didn’t feel all that fresh and I was certainly sleepy, but I did keep on my projected 4mph pace to the French Broad River. It was here about 20 miles in that I decided to bag the run and catch a ride back to the Folk Art Center.

We had a strong group of eight runners this year, and certainly Byron Backer and Brad Kee would have finished if not for the crazy weather. Arctic conditions in the higher elevations with 1-3” of snow/ice and gusty winds caused the parkway up to Mt. Mitchell including the park itself to close down. This was the ultimate deathblow for those who made it as far as Craggy Gardens.

I’m thankful to have given Pitchell another shot and very grateful for all those who helped out. An adventure like this one may seem crazy to most, but really this type of play keeps some of us sane…