The results of our previous effort at this run did not sit well with us and we soon began planning another attempt. We'd tried it in March of 2020 and while we knew the trails pretty well, we might have overestimated our ability to move quickly on them. Our pace was much slower than we'd hoped and knowing that Mount Mitchell State Park would be closed if we did make it to the summit, we could not wrap our heads around having to hike back down to Black Mountain Campground after finishing because a vehicle could not drive up to get us.
So, when Autumn rolled around, we began looking at a second crack at this adventure. While we discussed and planned, another runner, Kevin Ball, went out and did it. I'm not sure if he was aware of our run, but his completion did spark our eagerness to slay this "beast."
Unfortunately, one of our party, Dennis, would not be able to take part due to a badly injured calf muscle. Postponing wasn't a viable option since he had no idea how long it would take to heal. He had given it a week, then tested it, and it only got worse. So this time, it was just me and Brian, with Andy joining us at Old Highway 105.
To determine when to start, Brian took the range of possible finish times and worked backwards so that the middle finish time would be in the middle of Mount Mitchell State Park's open hours. That put us at a midnight start and a 38.5 hour finish goal--much slower than what we'd hoped for before the previous attempt. I felt like we could do it quicker than that, but it was best to be conservative with our estimates.
Brian's dad was again going to crew for us, but this time we scheduled it so that he had more free time and we stashed supplies in two places along the way. We would also use Andy's car as a third "aid station."
I met Brian at the Profile Trailhead at Grandfather Mountain State Park--our starting point was slightly different since this is where Kevin started. We filled out our information forms for the rangers and stuck them in the boxes at the bathroom area. In filling out the "hiking" form, it asks for your destination. I put Mount Mitchell. I had to wonder if the ranger would think I was joking, but they probably see it all.
It was a moderately cool evening, maybe in the upper 40s or low 50s. The sky was clear, and the only sounds were from late night traffic on Highway 105. At eight minutes after midnight, we started towards Mount Mitchell. The lower part of the Profile Trail is pretty level and runnable as it winds around the base of Grandfather Mountain, following the Watauga River and the highway. But, it's less than a mile before the serious climb starts.
Despite having done races of this distance and being familiar with the trail, I don't think I was fully grasping the enormity of what we were about to tackle. The challenges that unfolded during our previous attempt had long since faded from my memory. There was optimism, based on good weather and good health, but so much can go wrong. Would we be able to pull it off?
We moved briskly up the Profile Trail. Well, brisk for the terrain and climb. This would be a longer hike (about three miles) to Calloway Peak than the route we took earlier in the year and this time the clock started at the trailhead. We reached Calloway Peak in about 1:20. The sky was clear and starlit, the moon shaped like an upside down taco.
This descent down the Daniel Boon Scout Trail felt more conservative than the pace Dennis had pushed us to in March. While there was some ice in March, we now had a layer of fallen leaves to contend with, leaves that hid rocks and roots. I planned to use my trekking poles the entire time and I certainly was using them here.
I spent a lot of time in the days before this run trying to figure out what I would need. A forecast that showed little chance of rain and pretty stable temperatures helped on the clothing side. I decided to be proactive and had five or six pairs of socks accessible at various stops, several shirts, two lightweight running jackets, extra shorts, and another pair of shoes. I had gloves and a head band, but doubted I'd need those. On the food side, I made four PB&Js on English muffins, had a ton of granola bars, had several protein shakes (which really seem to help at times during a long run) and Brian's dad had promised eggs our second morning.
The only downside to the midnight start was getting any sleep beforehand. I managed about two hours before I had to head to the Profile Trail. I'd never missed more than one night of sleep, so unless we pulled off some miraculously fast time, I'd be venturing into uncharted waters. A "second sunrise" was something I'd never faced in one of these types of runs--though had I finished UTMB, that would involved two nights. I've had some 100s take almost 30 hours, but they started where I'd only be out for one night--only see one sunrise. Right now, as we made our way down toward the Tanawha Trail, I was just hoping to make it to the first sunrise.
Aside from frequent spider-webs-to-the-face, most of the early part of the run was pretty uneventful. We ran (jogged) where possible but uphills were walked, as were some flat areas that had tricky footing. That would be the theme of the day. Rough Ridge Overlook was a great spot for stargazing on this cloudless, low humidity night. We singled out the constellation of Orion as our guide and followed him for much of this first night. We couldn't linger at the overlook, though, as we weren't even 10% of the way along the journey.
In March, by the time we went under the Viaduct, we'd seen a few people on the trail--of course we started in the early morning that time. Today, we'd not seen a soul and barely heard any traffic along the Parkway. Though it was dark, it was easy to forget it was the middle of the night and most people were still in bed.
Everything was going well until the MST suddenly came out onto a road which neither of us expected. We couldn't remember being on the road before Beacon Heights last time we did this, but we double checked the trail and it definitely led to the road. We followed the road a little bit in each direction, not sure which way it went. Then, Brian pulled out his app with the route on it and found that the Trail crosses the road here. Feeling a little stupid, we headed down the path on the opposite side of 221.
Brian had stashed some water here, which we used to top off our supply. It was the shortest aid stop we'd make during the entire journey. There was something about starting earlier that made it feel like we were ahead of schedule since we arrived here in the dark versus midday last time, but we were pretty much on Brian's predicted schedule, which he based on the prior attempt.
The section from Beacon Heights to Old House Gap is much easier going down than coming up, but it's still twisty and technical in many places. We made good time, but it wasn't until we hit the dirt road section (and saw some car campers) that we could really speed up. If you look at the Strava data, though, "speeding up" is a relative term. We moved quicker, but when you factor in some pit stops, the pace didn't quicken much and none of the miles was under ten minutes. Still, it was nice to hit a stretch where you felt like you could go a consistent pace for more than a minute or two. Somewhere in here, Brian began getting text messages from a ranger at Grandfather Mountain asking where he was camping as all the dedicated sites were spoken for. Brian had filled out the "camping" form instead of the "hiking" form. Through a series of messages, he was able to straighten it out with the ranger. I was never contacted so I must have done it correctly.
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Huntfish Falls
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Reaching Roseborough Road meant two things. First, the pace would again slow. Second, we'd start a series of crossings of Lost Cove Creek. The crossings aren't terribly deep, but the water was definitely cold. After the initial shock of the cold water, it kind of felt good on feet that had been through a lot of downhill pounding for the past 20ish miles. When we weren't slowed down with a crossing, though, there were opportunities here to pick up the pace a little bit. When we finally reached Huntfish Falls, the sun had been up for a bit. Note that we had just left daylight savings time the prior weekend. That same weekend, the closing time for Mount Mitchell State Park dropped from 9:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m., giving us a shorter finish time window.
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Pineola Aid Station
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After a long climb up from Huntfish, we saw Brian's dad for the first time. He had a couple chairs set up, along with a table and the back of his car open for quick access to our gear. Having Larry meet us along the way gave us a fresh voice to talk with at times and provided a bit of a mental boost. This time especially as he was the first person we'd seen since before we started. He said that we were really close to the arrival time Brian had predicted. Since Brian's times were all leading to that 38.5 hour finish, I really wanted to start hearing that we were early to a checkpoint. So, we had essentially kept the same pace as in the previous attempt back in March. One thing we did not have was Kevin's times to certain "checkpoints." While he likely would have shared them, we didn't think to ask. It might have been useful since we knew his finishing time (roughly 38.5 hours) and could see which sections took him longer than we'd expected for us.
After heading out from the car, it felt a little like a fresh start. It was now morning, the sky was a bit overcast, so the sun wouldn't be beating on us. The temperature was nice, so we felt pretty good. During the planning stages, Brian had said he wasn't much of a talker and I suppose the same can be said of me, but we hadn't had a lot of quiet time so far. I guess conversation makes the miles pass more quickly. With the presidential election having taken place a few days earlier, that became a topic, as did video games, the trail, and pretty much anything else that came to mind.
Since we were heading into the Harper Creek area, I really expected to start seeing people out on the trails. We did see one car camper where we turned off Pineola Road. He had converted an ambulance into a camper. He had kayaks mounted to the top, but we couldn't see what he had done to the inside. It looked like a great idea for a crew vehicle. Especially if they left some glucose IVs, etc... inside.
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Harper Creek Falls
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The Harper Creek area is more runnable (jogable) than you might think. It's a little like Lost Creek with the creek crossings, but there seem to be more flat and smooth sections. While the poles helped a lot overall, they were really proving their value on the creek crossings. Though in most cases there wasn't a strong current, many times the rocks were really slick. Having four points of contact practically guaranteed that I'd not be getting any wetter than necessary on a given crossing.
It wasn't until we were close to the trail junction that can take you out towards Wilson Creek that we began seeing other people. The first group was three guys heading upstream with fishing equipment, followed soon after by a father with two kids. Reaching the "big" crossing of Harper Creek meant the beginning of a long climb along Raider Creek. The profile really doesn't look as bad as the section feels. It even shows downhills that don't register in our memory when actually out there on the trail. To us, it felt like a long, steady climb all the way to Highway 181, where Brian's dad would be meeting us. Of note on this section is the presence of several "bobsled chutes," sections of the trail with steep banks on either side that I suppose are the result of erosion over the years.
Every time I am on this section, I temporarily forget that it does not lead directly up to 181, but that we will peak around the Raider Camp area and then descend to Upper Creek before the final push up to 181. It's only a four mile stretch, but it feels much farther. After crossing Upper Creek, we began seeing more signs of life. First a family of five, then on the climb to 181 some college age kids heading down. As Brian was fond of noting, this part of the trail has a number of large "moguls," perhaps explaining why its a popular section for mountain bikers, that we had to get past before we'd reach the highway. Shortly, though, we could see light through the trees, meaning we were nearing the end of the climb and this time, not only was Brian's dad meeting us, but his mom as well. The weather was nice and there actually was some color at the lower elevations, so she tagged along for the mid-day crewing, taking in the scenery along the way.
I changed socks here, even though I knew I'd be getting my feet wet soon. Some of the decision to change was because I knew that I was getting sand in my socks with the creek crossings and since I had plenty of pairs, I didn't need to be conservative about using them. Larry said that the Live Tracking was working well. It would drop out occasionally, when we didn't have a clear signal, but then it would catch up when we got to higher ground. We lingered at this stop a bit longer than we had at Pineola. This is the only part of a run like these where Brian and I differ. I'm all about quick stops and keep moving forward where he likes to use stops as an opportunity to regroup. I think the net effect is the same in terms of overall pace--he'd get a bit of rest and could catch up if I went on--but I decided to follow his lead and I didn't want to be rude to his parents by heading on without him.
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The Table Rock "Middle" Road
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So, after refilling our water bladders, restocking our food, etc... we darted across highway 181 before a speeding truck or motorcycle could take us out. Once across 181, we had the "easiest" running we would have most of the day--a steady gravel downhill for about a mile and a half. Actually, even after we turned off the road onto trail, it remained fairly runnable. I tried to rock hop the creek crossings, but eventually realized it was pointless. I did, however, make a point of avoiding deep mud, just to keep grit out of my shoes as much as possible. During this downhill, we saw a couple of young women mountain biking up the trail, one of whom Brian knew. After that, still making our way down to Steele Creek, we came up on a couple with a dog. We slowed down and let them come by. With an excited tone she asked us if we'd heard the good news. I actually knew what she meant because earlier my sister had texted me a picture of a tv screen that showed CNN stating that Joe Biden had won the election. I certainly didn't have to wonder who she voted for, but I did wonder what made her confident that we had voted that way and would consider it "good news?" Was it because we were in the woods? Did she assume Republicans don't go into the woods except to hunt and cut all the trees down? It didn't bother me so much as made me curious. I'm registered as unaffiliated, for what it's worth. I'm critical of both parties.
We left the happy couple and continued down toward Steele Creek. Some of the usually-dry areas had running water on them. It hadn't rained in about a week, to my knowledge, so perhaps the ground was so saturated, it was still making its way down the mountain, towards the low point. Even creekside, the water was noticeably higher than I'd expected. Certainly not flood stage, but up from what I've seen at other times, even late September when I swept the Table Rock Ultras course through here.
The climb out of Steele Creek is steep and can be grueling, but with each time I do it, it does feel a bit shorter. Knowing Brian's dad was at the mid-point was encouraging. We made good time coming up and even encountered a few hikers. I often wonder in sections like this, what someone's hiking route is. Are they going down to Steele Creek and then coming back up? Are they making a loop of it? I never ask, so I'll never know. The biggest challenge on this section was acorns. They blanketed the ground in some parts. Had the ground been hard, it might have been more of a problem, but for the most part, they just mashed into the ground under our feet.
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Brian Stretches Out
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Brian's parents again had their "rolling aid station" set up with chairs, table, even blankets on the ground in case we needed to take a nap, I suppose. There was quite a bit of traffic on the road here, as we neared Table Rock. Oddly, even though it was only about 2:00 in the afternoon, we had to retrieve our headlamps from Larry's car. I got mine, as well as an extra battery, a USB battery and the cords I'd need to recharge my phone or watch if/when necessary. I also changed shirts and socks again, just as a precaution, but also because I knew we had several hours now before we'd be crossing any water, and the next one was the Linville River. I also grabbed my lightweight jacket because it would be after dark when we met Andy on Old Highway 105. We wouldn't see Brian's dad again for another 37 miles.
After the short jog down the gravel road, we turned for the 2(ish) mile ascent up towards Table Rock. It was a nice day and to actually go to the summit would have been nice, but it's not part of the route and there was no sense adding on extra time and distance that we didn't have to.
It's funny how people are dealing with COVID in the outdoors differently. On this climb and even earlier in the day, we'd see some people wearing masks, some wouldn't speak or would even somewhat turn away as you passed and some didn't seem to have any concern about the virus. I didn't have anything to cover with, but I'd give people wide berth and only speak when they were well ahead or behind us. Not when we were adjacent. After the small field that comes around the midpoint of this climb, it really gets steep. I could tell Brian was feeling it and of course I was as well. I felt like, without telling him, he was using his trekking poles wrong. Lee Starnes and I both plant the pole by our foot and push off with the pole as we push off with our leg, using sort of a lever action with our shoulder and elbow. Brian would put his poles out ahead of him and try to pull himself up. I don't know that there is a right and wrong way to do it, but I've tried both and the way I do it seems to work much better and can be maintained all day long. The only "problem" I'd had were some tender spots on my palms from using the poles a lot without gloves during this adventure.
As we neared the Table Rock Summit Trail, we began seeing an increasing number of hikers and the Table Rock parking area was packed, with cars lining the entrance road and license plates from state well beyond North Carolina. It was a bit odd that despite the crowd, the camping area on the other side of the lot was relatively sparsely used. Maybe half the spots were taken, at best. Apparently, even though it was a nice weekend, most of the people here were day hikers. The crowd thinned a bit as we headed towards the Chimneys and then picked back up with rock climbers once we got there. Two guys spoke to us as we let them go by on the trail. They had a western European look and had been climbing. Seeing our packs, they asked how far we were going. Brian told them Mount Mitchell and they asked where we started. We told them Grandfather Mountain and he said "Sounds fun." I don't know if they believed us or if they even knew where either mountain was, but we parted ways and continued on our trek. As we continued, we heard more accents, including a couple that we could hear but not see that sounded Russian.
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The Linville Gorge From Shortoff
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The stretch after the Chimneys, down and up across Shortoff, can really drag on. Even knowing and expecting it doesn't help. The three "saddles" between the Chimneys and Shortoff always take longer than you think and seem to have more than three climbs. Then, once on Shortoff, everything looks so similar, its hard to find unique features to mark your progress. The pond is about the only thing I know of that tells me I'm getting close to the Wolf Pit side of the mountain. Somewhere along Shortoff, I checked my watch and the battery was getting really low. I hooked it to the USB battery and noticed that it didn't seem to be charging. I looked at the cable and one of the pins that connect to the watch didn't seem to be fully extended. I messed with it, trying to pry it up, but had no luck. It still seemed like it should be making contact with the watch. I plugged, unplugged, and fiddled with it as best I could as I tried to run along the rocky trail. I was really worried that the watch would die before we reached Andy's car and my other battery. This battery should be fully charged, though, because I remembered charging it on Friday. It was 5-10 minutes later before I noticed a very small button on the battery. Curious, I pushed it and immediately the watch began charging. My other batteries don't require you to push a button to use them (just to check the power level) so I'd not even considered that as a possibility here. My watch and our tracking were saved.
The sun was close to setting by the time we started hitting the camping areas on Shortoff and unlike Table Rock, they seemed to be full. We encountered a young family hiking up who asked if there were any camping spots the way we'd come. I told them I'd been squinting a lot of the time due to the low-in-the-sky sun and couldn't see well but that I didn't remember any except back in the saddles. I'm not sure what they decided to do but didn't seem thrilled with hiking all the way to those spots. They really shouldn't have expected to find a spot easily at 5:00 p.m. on a Saturday.
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Lake James From Shortoff
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Neither of us took water from the spring near where the Shortoff Trail begins to descend towards its trailhead, but I did use some to wipe my face off. Though it wasn't hot, we'd been in the sun for a few hours and it felt like my face was hot and it was certainly grimy from dried sweat. We made the turn to continue on the MST and headed down toward the Linville River, just as the sun was dropping below the horizon.
The headlamps came on about 5:45 p.m. as we made our way down the rocky and slightly overgrown stretch trail. It's not terribly far in terms of distance, but between using headlamps, the terrain, and having been on our feet for about fifty miles, we could only go so fast. Things look different at night and at the bottom, we'd forgotten that you have to go downstream a little bit to cross, which was fortunate because the crossing choices where we came out didn't look promising, much deeper than we were hoping for and the bank didn't make for easy entry.
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| Shortoff Mountain After Sunset |
We then realized the dots were leading us downstream and we followed them right into someone's campsite. Fortunately, they were still awake and outside their tents, cooking dinner since it was only about 6:00 p.m. One of them pointed towards the crossing site, which was really hard to spot in the dark. The water was really cold but since someone was watching, we had to be tough. It was maybe knee-to-thigh deep for me, though at the far side, it did get a little deeper. This was by far the longest crossing we'd had or would have and my legs stayed cold much longer than they had on earlier creek crossings. We could see the camper's headlamp pointing our way, probably curious if we'd made it across. Probably wondering what on earth we were doing out here after dark. There's a little bit of flat, wide runnable section through here so we did, just to get the stiffness in our legs induced by the cold water. Then came the climb.
The Pinnacle Trail climbs 1500' from the river in 3ish miles. It was actually less climb than we dropped coming off Shortoff, but that didn't make it any easier. We pushed upwards, totally forgot about the descent that takes away what seems like all of your early ascent. I pulled away from Brian some as we neared the top. It wasn't that I wanted to drop him, but I knew we both needed to know the summit was near and I figured if I could get there as quickly as possible, I could shout back the good news and lift his spirits. This was a tough spot during our March attempt at "Grandell." I actually felt pretty good. The climb was tough, but it wasn't breaking me mentally. The lack of switchbacks meant few breaks unless you just stopped altogether, which I believe Brian did once when he was behind me. Eventually, the false summits became the real thing and I saw the overlook ahead. Looking back, I could see Brian's headlamp below, so I shouted down that I was at the top. When he got there a minute or two later, we sat at the overlook a bit to regroup. Andy was waiting just a little bit down the trail, but we were ahead of schedule (not sure where we gained time) so we could relax as long as we needed. It was the threat of chilling down that got us moving again as we headed out to Old Highway 105. Andy, it turns out, had actually parked at the Pinnacle Trailhead instead of where the MST leaves the road at the lower end, where he'd parked last time, so our aid station came a little sooner (about a mile) than we were expecting.
This was one of the longer stops because it was dark, we had a lot of changing to do (cooler temps during the night) and we had to refill bladders and restock food. We got moving just as we were getting chilled, walking at first, then easing into a jog down the road. Andy showed us why he couldn't park where he'd planned--an RV had parked sideways, blocking off most of the parking spaces. We ran on by and headed into the section that Andy and Brian had nicknamed "The Demoralizer" last time. I stopped here during the March attempt and had never been on this section in this direction, only coming from the west. And that time was in the daylight.
The night sections are always difficult to recap because you see very little apart from the trail directly ahead of you. I do remember finding out early on that it was going to be more of a challenge than I thought to keep my new socks dry as the trail had a number of large muddy sections with few options to avoid. For the most part, I made it through with only my shoes getting muddy. Andy's energy was obvious and we were both fine with him getting a little bit ahead. There are two knobs in this section: Dobson and Bald. While I don't particularly remember going up them, I do remember coming down Bald. We could see city lights ahead of us as we made slow, zig-zagging progress down the steep and rocky trail. It seemed to go on forever. My only real landmark on this section was the big bridge over the Catawba River and I knew that once we reached it, we didn't have too far to go to reach Highway 221.
Brian had put out a bear cannister with some provisions at Woodlawn (Highway 221.) We stopped here and resupplied. I had been doing decent job of eating, supplemented heavily by the Tailwind, but it was getting to the point where my taste for everything I had brought was waning. I've found that for several days after one of these types of excursions, anything I ate during it, I'd lost my taste for.
A month or two earlier, we'd started out on this stretch, intending to go to Mount Mitchell. We made it about three miles before Brian got stung and had an allergic reaction. So, after the first three miles, much of what was left to Mount Mitchell was going to be new to Brian and Andy. And, I wasn't much help, with my experience on this part of the MST going in the other direction. It was on this section, that Brian started suggesting short breaks. It was our second night and we were getting glassy-eyed and foggy-brained. We stopped some and they laid down. I tried to, but never got to sleep. It did feel good to elevate my feet though. Had I fallen asleep, I would have probably had trouble waking up. All we could do is keep pressing forward and hope for that burst of energy provided by the sunrise. Brian would lead us into a jog at times which would clear the fog from my head, but it quickly returned when we started walking again.
Brian's dad would be meeting us where the MST comes out at the Highway 80 / Blue Ridge Parkway intersection. The last few miles before that seemed to be along a ridge, but I wouldn't trust our memory. We could see the Parkway below us before reaching the intersection. The sun had risen a little earlier and our spirits and energy were definitely elevated. Larry had set up shop in the parking area and was making scrambled egg tortillas. It was something I'd never thought about during a race and probably isn't the sort of thing most race aid stations aren't going to provide, but it really hit the spot. We ditched our headlamps and pretty much anything else we knew we wouldn't need for the rest of the trip. Finishing seemed a reality now, rather than something we were hoping for. It was by no means guaranteed, but I was really optimistic, with the only question being what would our time be? The sooner the better as far as I was concerned. Not just to have a quicker finish time, but to get home earlier as well.
We stayed here longer than we probably needed to, but I'm sure some of that was Brian not wanting to just breeze in and out when his dad was making such an effort to support us. We did peel out. I went back and forth about my jacket (essentially a long sleeve tech shirt with a half zipper on the front,) eventually deciding to go with it, but I'd shed it within a mile or so. We were "only" eight miles from when we'd next see Larry and his rolling aid station, but it was a long eight miles. Actually, it was fairly runnable in many sections, but our run pace was certainly not what it was eighty miles ago. Brian and Andy had named an earlier section "The Demoralizer" but we were about to face a real demoralizer. As we ran along the side of Big Laurel Mountain, we eventually could see a clearing and road well below us. We felt that had to be the Black Mountain Campground area, yet we seemed to be going around it rather than down to it. When we did descend, we still seemed to be circling the area we just knew the campground was. I could even faintly hear the noise of kids playing (later realized it was a hallucination that I'd hear when there was white noise in the background--like wind or water.) It just kept going and going and just wasn't jibing with my memory of this area years earlier.
Finally, after what felt like an hour of circling around in frustration, even convincing ourselves we'd done a complete loop and were retracing our own steps, we began to descend towards the real Black Mountain Campground and could see Aid Station Larry all set up. This stop really took longer than it needed to. I wasn't sure if Brian was really tired or just in no hurry. We got some more eggs (I skipped the tortilla this time) and after maybe ten minutes, began the final climb. While with Larry, I drank a lot of plain water. While the Tailwind had served me well, I was just tired of its sweetness and just needed something different.
I've never been able to run, even at a shuffle jog pace, after this many miles, but somehow was able to today. The only explanation I have is that I did not get dehydrated and that ultimately must be what wears me down, more than just the mileage alone. The anticipation of the summit was greatly outweighing any fatigue that had accumulated over the last day and a half. I felt much better than I should have and was eager to get to the top. Dennis, Andy, and I had done a "down and up" from the summit the day Brian got stung. Without pressing, but moving steadily, it took us about 2.5 hours for the ascent. We were hoping for three hours today. On the day with Dennis and Andy, the trail was packed. Today, we would see very few people. A thick fog was setting in above us and it was definitely cooling down the higher we got.
About halfway up, Brian wanted to take a break to gather himself. It came at a perfect spot with a number of rocks to sit on and room to spread out. I have to admit getting a little antsy here, afraid of losing momentum. But we started back up before we'd settled in too far. The higher we went, the more familiar things were. Eventually, we'd join the Mount Mitchell Challenge course, the sign telling us we had two miles to the summit. That was a bit discouraging as I always thought it was a one mile stretch. I think Brian actually began to get some of that "Smelling the Barn" energy while Andy was hitting a low. It was all just power hiking right now, but we got a little ahead of Andy and with about 1/4 mile to go, we decided to wait for him so we would all finish together. He was only a few minutes behind and when he reached us, he said he had bonked badly.
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| Mount Mitchell Summit - Me, Andy, Brian |
The last 1/4 mile went quickly and we began seeing a lot more people--surprising given the misty fog that surrounded everyone. We hit the cobblestone walkway and moved quickly (mostly because it was cold) up to the summit. I almost forgot to stop my watch when we made the top of the observation tower, so glad the journey was over. There were people heading up and down from the parking lot, not much lingering. We got our obligatory finish photo (Brian did a group selfie) and with no reason to hang around, headed back down to the parking lot. Larry was coming up as we descended, having been waiting at where the MST emerges on the other side of the cobblestone path, but closer to the parking lot and having totally missed us.
We got a quick picture with Larry and headed down to the car. The final time was 37:16:46. It was slower than I'd expected, but I was fine with it. The journey was over, the one ring had been thrown into the fiery depths of Mount Doom. We could return now to the Shire.
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| Posing With "Mr. Aid Station" (Larry) |
We'd set the FKT, sort of. Looking more closely at Kevin's route, the one he submitted to the FKT website, he went a slightly different route at the start and end. Our distance came out longer, but not having done the exact same course, we didn't feel we should submit anything. Our primary goal was to finish the attempt that we'd made in March and while we modified that route a tad (using the Profile Trail to start, as Kevin had) the rest of the route was as we'd initially planned. There were enjoyable sections and some that truly challenged us mentally. Besides, our route is "Grandell and Kevin's is "Gritchell."
Now, having finished, we are faced with knowing that Dennis will want to do the route one day in the near future and that we'll be the first people he calls to pace and crew him. One thing is for certain, there are a few sections where we will strongly encourage him to find someone else to be the pacer.
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