laps behind

On Saturday morning, I toed the line of the Barkley Marathons. Fifteen hours later, I got tapped out. What happened was both humbling and uplifting. I met some incredible athletes and courageous spirits. I got to witness early spring in the legendary Brushy Mountains while climbing somewhere around 15,000’ in the first 25 miles.

During my brief visit, Barkley taught me things no other race has. I learned that I’m laps behind my ambition, but there is still time to get there. What follows is a brief summary of my weekend:

I woke up early Friday morning puking. Whether it was a virus, grease overload from dinner out, residual nausea from post-dinner screening of Food Inc., or just pre-race nervousness, I don’t know. Whatever it was, it couldn’t have come at worse time. My body was weak and depleted as I rode out with Byron to TN later that morning.

Many thanks to Adam for hooking me up with a homemade kale, banana, blueberry, hempseed, seaweed (and whatever else) smoothie! I also got a chance to pick up a 46 oz. bottle of V8. This liquid nutrition sat well, but Barkley is not an event you want to arrive to feeling queasy about solid food. My original plan of eating as much as possible Friday and at least 3000 calories per loop over the weekend was in jeopardy.

Early Friday afternoon, Byron and I joined Carl at a campsite in Frozen Head. When Gary handed me my packet and number, he looked at me and said something like: “Now at this point you’re running. But if something comes up and you can’t, there are people here that will buy that number off you for a good price in a New York minute…”

Like every other lost soul, I transcribed the new route from Gary’s map and then went away to hide from the drizzle in my tent. I faded into and out of consciousness. I slept for hours and did not eat. At 4 PM, I sluggishly got up. My body felt weak. I selfishly thought: I’m here, I’m going for it. I started packing my gear and planned to carry my full pack even on loop 1, not knowing what to expect.

Scott, Liz and Carl’s dad joined us in camp. They provided great moral support. I forced down half a subway sandwich, some mac and cheese and then hung out for a bit with the Greats. I retired to my tent around 9 PM. I slept well; the sound of the conch echoing in the darkness signaled an hour till the start. I looked at my watch, it was 6:10 AM.

Outside my tent, the camp was coming to life. Scott had coffee going, I heated water for oatmeal and forced four packets down. It was reassuring to get those calories. With only minutes left, I scrambled to dress my feet. There was not enough time to pre-tape, so I lubed and laced up and trotted over to the yellow gate. The Greats were there, I slinked in beside them. Unlike any other race, this one started with the lighting of a cigarette and everyone walking.

It was frosty at the start, but the day promised to be sunny. I eventually fell in behind Mike Dobies. I enjoyed his company and tried to soak up some of his wisdom about the course. Meanwhile, I attempted to keep up with hydration and fueling, but was running a deficit that really sunk in by the time we got to Rat Jaw. At the summit of Frozen Head, we regrouped with water and food and prepared to descend directly to the prison. The new route goes through a tunnel underneath the old prison.

Simply put, the last half of the course, the part I’d never seen before, is the stuff of nightmares. It’s rugged and it’s relentless. I loved it, but doubted my resolve to repeat it all again at night. Mike, Scott and Liz convinced me to go back out. Scott and Liz took great care of me in camp. Although my body was in good shape, my head wasn’t in the game.

I didn’t like the idea of relying on someone else (or worse still, Gary’s novelette) to find my way. I also didn’t like what I had for calories. I was parched and everything I had seemed so dry: the dried fruit, nuts, even the subs. Nothing seemed appealing. The times when I’ve been successful on adventures, I could eat and drink with ease.

At Book 1, I decided to bail. I still had a couple hours of night hiking to get back to camp. The full moon was out, and the wind was blowing hard. All in all, it was a beautiful night and I thought of the amazing people moving ahead of me. My thoughts turned to future aspirations. I passed Mike. We didn’t speak about the inevitable, and left each other to our own wildness.

Barkley is awesome. The people of Barkley are awesome. Everything I experienced in my defeat was awesome. Big props to JB and the others who are laps ahead. I think the biggest prize from this weekend other than meeting great people and exploring some beautiful places is this: I’m less afraid to fail than I was before.

My body is hardly trashed, I’ve learned some things that will be applied to future adventures. The training continues today.

tweet tweet

amnesiac

(((((((prerequisite listening)))))))

gorgefest 40

With a booked calendar, I realized this weekend might be my last chance for a long slog pre-Barkley. If it’s got to be the last supper, it might as well be a gorgefest!

In all our recent ramblings, we’ve yet to get back to the rugged gem that is the Linville Gorge Wilderness. So on Wednesday, I plotted out a 40+ mile lollypop/figure-eight loop into and out of the gorge.

Lily dropped Uwharrie and I off at the Overmountain Victory Trailhead at Black Bear Cove (Lake James) six miles out of town by 10 PM Friday night. We followed logging roads and then bushwhacked up the southeast ridge of Bald Knob. This thick ascent seemed to go on forever in the dark.

We happily merged with the snowbound MST at the summit by midnight. Now on the ridge, a bone-chilling wind prompted us to quickly get moving.

Uwharrie and I left the MST to continue north on the icy Kistler Memorial Highway past Wiseman’s View. We intersected the road (around 11 miles in) at 2 AM. The next seven miles promised to be relatively fast along the west rim.

Far below, the light of a yellow waning gibbous danced on the surface of Lake James. The stars were out, and beyond the dark mountainous silhouettes, thousands of city lights flickered across the piedmont. What a beautiful night!

Confident that we could make it to the summit of Table Rock in time for sunrise, we made our first descent into the Gorge along the Babel Tower Trail. In the moonlight, the river appeared like a silver thread winding it’s way out to the lake.

As we continued downstream along the Linville River Trail, we encountered a dangerously iced over rock ledge. When I shined my headlamp down, the vertical run-off disappeared into the darkness. If we lost our footing, we’d fall at least 100 ft. into jagged rocks.

I spent 10 minutes trying to break up the ice with a large rock. My first step onto the ice slid out from under me. There seemed to be no alternate route than straight across. I held my breath and took three very precarious steps before gaining more solid footing. Uwharrie had little difficulty crossing!

We were now committed to overcoming whatever other obstacles awaited around the bend. To make matters worse, I accidentally smashed my headlamp against the side of a rock. The light went out and I heard batteries scatter across the trail.

Fortunately, this is why I carry all the junk in my pack. I pulled out my backup light to survey the damage. I looked and found a battery and replaced the others from my backup stash. I sipped some coffee from my platy and got out another piece of gear that I occasionally carry: an ipod.

Sketched out and faced with the challenge of Table Rock by dawn, I needed Fela Kuti to pull me through the rest of the night. We hit our rhythm down to the only bridge in the gorge and up Spence Ridge. The sky turned from dark purple to light blue as we hurried and climbed through the snow to the MST and on up to the summit.

Somehow we made it, and the panoramic sunrise made our hard push worth it. South of the crimson orb, we could see downtown Charlotte. Scanning west, across Morganton, the South Mountains, over past Marion, the Blue Ridge escarpment, pink in the morning light, the snow-capped alpine spine of the Blacks towered highest.

I ate some fruit leather, a couple packets of oatmeal and drained the last of my coffee. Uwharrie finished her beef jerky while I read the map. Twenty minutes later, we were shivering uncontrollably. We continued on over the Chimneys down to Chimney Gap and up to the Cambric Branch Trail.

In the daylight, we made our second descent down into the gorge. This rim-to-rim crossing would involve a ford and I was anxious to see what the river looked like. Uwharrie was the first across and got swept 50 feet downstream before escaping the main run. I stepped in with a stick for added stability. The frigid water came up to my ribs.

I paused momentarily to get a post-crossing picture and then we bushwhacked up the Pinch-In to warm up on the sunny buttress. We climbed out of the gorge and made it to Kistler before 10 AM. At this junction some eight-hours later, I decided rather foolishly to explore a cross-country route over Paddy and Dales Creeks instead of returning over Bald Knob back to Black Bear Cove.

When we left the road, we shot a bearing and began a 750’ descent in under a mile down to Paddy Creek. This quickly turned into my worst bushwhacking experience. The forest was a mess of deadfall, briars and laurel. It took an hour and a half to get to the creek, and by this time, I was incredibly scratched up and exhausted.

We surveyed the steep climb out of Paddy Creek and it too looked treacherous. The heat of the day was zapping me and our 3 PM cut-off was drawing nigh. We decided to follow the creek a few miles downstream and take roads the remainder of the way.

The emerald waters of Paddy Creek glistened in the sun. Still, the going was slow and frustrating. We preferred to wade downstream than contend with the laurels and deadfall along the banks. Finally on roads, we ran to the South Mountains Children’s Home to rendezvous with Lily and my folks before 2 PM.

After an early dinner at Jalapeno’s and a nap, Lily and I made our way up to Asheville to hear the Black Lillies at Jack of the Wood. After 27 hours on the go, it was time to get some rest…

Plodding along the Kistler Memorial

Lots of great icicles on the rock shelves in the gorge

The treacherous icy ledge that almost turned us back

Sunrise from the summit of Tablerock

Looking downstream into the gorge from Tablerock

Enjoying the first rays of daylight (but still freezing)

The snowy trail through The Chimneys

Looking downstream from Cambric, Pinch-In visible across

Looking upstream from Cambric Branch

The river ford was up to my chest and the current was strong

Uwharrie resting on Pinch-In

Looking upstream from Pinch-In

Back on the Kistler Memorial with the Blacks beyond

The beauty of Paddy Creek

Finally on the road home!