I'd been slugging out at home all day long, and it sure felt great. I haven't been home in more than three months, and every place I visited (Virginia beach, Cape Coral) was hotter than hell. Over 90 degrees every day, muggy, and hanging over all the smell of burning swamp fires. In Suffolk, VA, the "Great Dismal Swamp" is burning. Because it is the ground which is burning, and it has an organic layer averaging something like 6 feet thick, the rains haven't put it out - they need a hurricane. It started a couple months when a piece of logging machinery caught fire. The logging machinery was clearing brush from a hurricane several years ago, because the brush was a fire hazard.
It's so miserably hot in south florida, and the sun is so strong, the streets are deserted between about 11 and 5. I asked my dad, "where do kids who live here go during the day?" It was summer vacation, and you couldn't find a teenager outside in the middle of the day. He said they go to the mall. Ninety degrees but it feels like 102 because of the stifling humidity. Uncivilized. Yahoo told me it was 79 and overcast in Whitefield. Mmmmmmm, that would be comfy. Every day I'd tell someone how much I missed the north country.
I'm finally back, and I've spent my first day and half relaxing in my very own home, all alone and so quiet. It's been raining, sometimes heavy, sometimes lightly, for the last 24 hours. It's three o'clock, and I figure it's time to say hello to the trails. I delayed my trip down to VA in the spring by a day so I could take a (first and) last look at the trails connecting the mountains of NH. That day, I took air line from the Appalachia parking lot up (Durand ridge next to King ravine. That day I climbed trails covered with an average of 6 feet of snow, and made it about 3.5 miles (about 4740 feet, up from about 1240) in two hours, and about an hour and a half back. I saw a couple skiers on their way down and I was less than an hour up. They looked at me as if I were crazy! Was it because I was wearing simple running gear, shorts and tshirt with running shoes? I had my emergency gear with me - a bandana. I ran (OK, so most of it wasn't technically "running," as the trail is pretty damn rugged) most of the way up Mt. Madison, turned around and ran back, passing them again just before the trailhead. Who's crazy now, silly skiers. You may not be bleeding, but I can go up and down in the time it takes you to come down. I took a pretty good fall about halfway down and had some nice bruises and gashes which took a couple weeks to heal. Also scraped my shins in about a thousand places on the ice crust, mostly during the run down. It was a great trail, and the next day it was 90 and muggy in VA. So damn hot.
I grabbed some appropriate synthetics to wear in a cool rain. Despite the unrelenting rain, I hadn't heard any thunder all day, so I didn't worry about the weather. I filled a bag with dry clothes and a towel, wrote the first line of this entry (sarcastically) and was out the door at about 3:15.
Appalachia parking area, 3:37. I spend about ten minutes getting dressed and adjusting my hydration. It's certainly warmer than it was in March, but it's still cool and overcast and drizzly. I love this weather. At 3:47 in the afternoon, I start up the mountain.
I don't run much. I'm just planning on maintaining a quick, steady pace, letting the climbing do the work. Besides, it turns out the trail is much more runnable in winter, especially downhill. A good trail runner could run up most of the bottom half of the trail, steep as it is, but it is far too steep, rocky and slippery to run down, except a handful of sections no more than 30 seconds long.
4:13, and I'm wiped out. Crap. My gouty left foot hurts. I've been heading uphill for 26 minutes and I'm exhausted. I've gained back the 15 pounds I lost running last winter. Ran once in Florida, and it was a short, easy hash. Ran more often in VA, though they were all hashes and I was in FL longer than VA. I did manage to eat and drink a helluva lot, though, by golly. Man, did I eat well, and often, with gusto, and relish. A nice healthy carnivorous diet. An exceedingly unhealthy lifestyle for me. I feel like I lost any fitness I gained over the winter. I look like crap - pasty complexion, bags under the eyes, unshaven jowls. Did I really plan to climb a mountain and get back down before dark? Was I kidding when I wrote "2 hours up, 1 down?" Well, it doesn't matter, I tell myself. I'll rest after an hour. The trail steepens and narrows.
30 minutes. I'll rest in 30 minutes. Steady, quick pace uphill.
40 minutes. I'll rest in 20 minutes. Still steep, steady pace, making good time.
50 minutes. I'll rest in 10 minutes. Making good time.
60 minutes. Where's my damn rest?
67 minutes. I'll rest here. Nice log to sit on, and a rare section of level ground. It feels good to sit. My foot isn't bothering me any more, and I feel better. It's not yet 5 o'clock, and I'm sure I've covered about 2.5 miles. Two minutes rest and I'm heading back uphill. I've known all along I was serious about going two easy hours up. In March, I didn't make it to any particular landmark, and turned around after two hours at some anonymous twist in the trail. This time, I wanted to make it at least to Madison hut, 3.8 miles up, at 4800'. My goals for the next few weeks, as I get back into shape, include making it to the top of Mt. Madison, Mt. Adams and both. I'd like to do both and get back down within 4 hours. The trail gets rougher, as it winds up following a narrow ridgline with steep ravines falling away on either side. That's right after you pass the DANGER sign warning about the coming alpine region. It's cooler now, about 50-55 degrees, and the wind is blowing pretty good on the ridgeline. I stopped to enjoy the feel of the wind on my face, and to laugh. I love the mountains. Man, I could do this every day!
I reach Madison hut at 5:40, about 7 minutes faster than 2 hours. Good enough for me. That comes out to 30 minutes per mile, gaining about 1000 feet per mile (average 20% grade) on rough trails. It's large and warm inside, with benches and water and food and maps and stuff and people even. They might have looked at me as if I were crazy, but maybe they just had their own crazy looks. I don't sit, for fear of stiffening up. I'm very tired. After about 6 glasses of water, I head out the door at 6 sharp. The map on the wall says the normal time down air line is 2 hours 38 minutes. Let's hope not. My legs are wasted. Two and a half hours more would suck.
Must be careful now. The light is flat with the gathering gloom darkened further by rainclouds. I'm tired, the trail is soaking wet, steep and rocky. I DO NOT want to bust my ass on this trail. I've never finished a trail run without bleeding, but I'd like to today. What the hell is this old bald fat guy is doing at 4800' in running shorts, anyway? My legs are shot. They're not only tired, but painfully sore in about 4 spots. Very careful on the way down, yet still the occasional slip occurred. After the fourth time I slipped or tripped or stumbled, and managed to catch myself, I began counting. I'm not rushing at all now. Even so, every now and then, a little slip in the mud (but it catches itself and that makes 5) or a trip on a root (but I recover and that makes 6) or a stumble on a rock (but I grab a tree, and it holds, and that makes 7). 8, 9, 10. Ten times lucky! I AM INVINCIBLE! I'm less than a tenth of a mile from the parking area, and by now the trail is (relatively) gentle and easy. My legs are, as I said, wasted, but I'm running! Good time to relax and lose concentration, right? It's almost dark. Can you guess what happens next?? Is it too fucking predictable to stand?!? 11 strikes, my toe catches on a rock, I'm leaning too far forward and my trail leg is lagging. Tuck and roll time. Rocks got the outside of my right leg, one little gouge in upper thigh, one little gouge in calf, big mess around the knee. See photo. damndamndamn stupidstupidstupid
My legs are shaking when I get to the car (30 seconds later). 1:23 for the descent (book time is 2:38). There's blood running down my leg, but it's not too bad. By the time I get home, they've stiffened up pretty well. I stay off my feet the rest of the day, stay up late and have trouble sleeping.
1 comment:
You truly are INSANE! Don't come to me when you're on crutches and in pain! You could enjoy the climb without trying to kill yourself!
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