Big Catalooche

Last weekend's adventure took me to the Great Smokies National Park and to the top of the 6155' Big Catalooche mountain. This 22 mile run put the Big Hurt on us.

Palmer Creek > Pretty Hollow Gap > Mount Sterling Ridge > bushwhack to summit from Balsam Corner > Mount Sterling Ridge > Balsam Mtn. trail > Balsam Mtn. road > Palmer Creek trail

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It looked like that except we did the Sterling Ridge trail from Big Butt to Balsam corner twice thanks to the bushwhack.

Pretty Hollow Gap was a steady climb all the way up but never got too steep and I made the mistake of running it all. The stretch across the ridge trail was way too flat for way too long for me and it was then I started to get really hungry and realized I was not going to have enough food to get back down. The bushwhack was a pleasant relief from running and I ate what I could on the way up being careful to save a few calories for later in the day.

At the top of the mountain there was nothing except a few pieces of flagging tape. The big views I was hoping for weren't there but Jon had a bunch of bars in his pack and was nice enough to give one to me which I very quickly scarfed down.



Back across the ridge again and then a quick stop at the Laurel Gap shelter which was much nicer than I ever would have expected.





Then it was finally time to start going down and I led the way down the first steep pitch to Beech Gap.



From there it was a long series of ups and downs out to the road and the bar Jon had given me was quickly forgotten. By the time we got out to the road I was bonking hard and thinking seriously about beating Yuri up so I could steal some of the food he was carrying and not sharing. When we got to the Palmer Creek trail I was very dismayed to see we still had another five miles to go and when we paused briefly at some scientific equipment Yuri pulled an energy waffle out of his cornucopia. I'm not sure if he was trying tease or taunt me but I immediately made arrangements to purchase it from him for a dollar in cash as soon as we got back down alive and he reluctantly handed it over.

With those few more precious calories I decided to look at my altimeter to see how far we still had to descend and saw that we were still above 5000' and hadn't really started the descent yet. The initial big climb coupled with the rocky terrain had my hip flexors yelling at me to Stop Now but five miles is too far to walk so on I ran. I was well in the back at this point and when I made it to the intersection with Pretty Hollow Gap I yelled "Ouch!" and was very relieved when both Yuri and Jon vocally agreed with me.

That only left 1.6 miles to go though and I knew we would make it. I decided to suck up the pain and try to stomp out the last miles as fast as I could to make it end as soon as possible. A cooler full of recovery beverages just down the trail was all the motivation I needed and before I knew it I was back at the car and sitting in the grass with Jon.

Yuri came in a couple of minutes behind me and when he heard that we had gone 22 miles he suddenly forgot the pain of the previous miles and wanted to do another four miles so we would get in a full marathon to which Jon and I just chuckled and then firmly said no. Ever the explorer and bargainer he then wanted to show us some stuff around the bottom to which we said "maybe next time".

There was a steady stream of cars driving around looking for the elk and as we left the park. I was very content to be riding in a car playing tourist and looking at the woods pass by through the window.

Armstrong Creek to Bad Fork

Yuri, Jon, Duma, Bella and I got out to the Grandfather District last Saturday to run two new to us trails: #223 Armstrong Creek and #227 Bad Fork.



These are two of the few trails in the area I have not done yet and I was eager to see what they had to offer. We pulled up at the Fish Hatchery to sixty degree temperatures, wide open Carolina blue skies and not another car or person in sight. It was clear we weren't in the Pisgah Ranger District and the relative solitude was refreshing.



We weren't sure exactly where the Bad Fork trail was so we opted to do the route counter clockwise. It started out with running almost two miles on a paved single lane road through a bizarro old fish hatchery. The asphalt eventually gave way to gravel and then a gate and then we were on a trail still following Armstrong Creek up the mountain. The bottom was a beautiful stretch of trail through a Hemlock Forest with every little understory with plenty of creek crossings to keep our feet cool. The trail had seen some very recent trail work that I was immediately able to identify as being that of a specific local trail builder. While some of the work was very good, some of it looked rather rushed and very disappointingly the trail builder felt the need to use a chain saw to carve their company's initials in one downed tree and then actually go as far to write their entire company name in another very large tree they had cleared from the trail. I have a hard time considering anyone a professional who feels the need to leave such a mark.


The top section of Armstrong Creek was a gentle climb up a series of switchbacks. This led us to the Mountains to Sea Trail at top of the ridge where a lone telephone pole stands connected to nothing.



We did the quick out and back down the MST to the Blue Ridge Parkway and the Eastern Continental divide. This meant we were really getting somewhere and made us transcontinental warriors, or something.



The stretch back across the MST was an amazing ridge top run. Great views abounded all around the crystal clear skies and I knew this must be heaven or at least good enough to pretend.



We easily found Bad Fork, even with the confusing new signs that show the Forest Service's "Less Trails" push, and started down. The top stretch down to the road was in great shape but over far too fast. Once crossing the road we started following the creek and after stopping for a drink things took a turn for the interesting. The trail suddenly became very covered with dead rhododendrons. Imagine a rhododendron tunnel and then imagine if all those bushes had been dead for years and had then fallen onto the trail.



It was worse than you can imagine. A half mile must have taken us an hour. At one point when we lost the trail Jon said:

"It must be this way because the most trees are down over here."

And he was right.



But then right as our patience was started to wear thin it let up a little and we could actually run again for short stretches. The trail ended just past a crossing with Armstrong Creek and put us back on the same hatchery road we had come in on.

I haven't checked but my hunch is the USFS has removed the bottom of Bad Fork from the map. If that is the case it is a real shame as it is the only logical loop for Armstrong Creek trail. If they spent all that money on one trail the other should at least remain open for users who prefer loops to out and backs.

rattle my heart

I had planned on joining the wnctrailrunner group for a Mount Mitchell Marathon last Saturday but the snow the week before led to potentially dangerous road conditions driving into the Toe River Valley so the decision was made to do a marathon variation of the Rattle My Heart 50k route instead. The drive would be shorter and safer and while the run would be on lower mountains and involve some roads the snow promised we were in for a fun day.

I made it to the Kitsuma trail head first and sat in my truck as a cold ferocious wind whipped all around and entertained thoughts of what I would do if nobody else showed up. Attempt the route alone, or maybe just do Kistuma out and back? Those thoughts didn't last long as Matt K. pulled up right on time. He had the Pisgah Nation flag and I felt honored to finally be heading out on my first real run with the Nation.



A few minutes later David 4trunks pulled in ready to run and the three of us headed down the road into Ridgecrest to begin the journey. After all the running I've been doing this winter I should have had my gear dialed in but floundered it at the last minute. My run in Montreat with Joe earlier in the week had been snowy, wet, cold and had me changing to mountaineering gloves midrun to try and get life back into my mangled hands. So, when it was cold at the start of this undertaking I way overdressed, over packed and feeling like a rookie. But we had a long way to go in a lot of snow and I knew there was a chance things could get interesting and I would be glad to have a pack full of extra stuff.

I encouraged the others to go ahead and drop me but Matt assured me he was in no hurry so we headed up the trails into Ridgecrest together. Our route immediately had us on some trails I had never been on before, which is always nice, and the snow was actually really good for running. Perfect traction, perfect weather, perfect company.


Photo by Matt K.

We worked our way up and down through Ridgecrest and then up again to Rattlesnake before popping out onto the Old Toll Rd.




Photo by Matt K.

Out on the Old Toll Rd. we fell into a comfortable pace in the snow and chatted as we slowly but steadily gained elevation. Shortly after passing by the spring I stopped to dig some food out of my pack and David and Matt pulled ahead a little while I played mind games with myself. This was going to be my longest 'run' to date and as the snow continued to increase I started to question whether I should do the out and back to the top of Pinnacle or not. I knew exactly what it would entail if I did: deep snow drifts, strong winds and lots of fun, but it would also add significant precious time and I felt like I was already moving slow enough. With that in mind and not wanting to hold up Matt and David for whom this was just a Saturday afternoon jog I decided to skip Pinnacle and head on down Heartbreak Ridge instead. I figured the others would catch up to me well before I hit Star Gap.

Immediately after making the turn at the trailers what had been six inches of snow with mid-calf drifts turned into twelve inches of snow with drifts pushing waist deep. Earlier I had been simply following in the others' footsteps but now I was breaking trail and moving slowly. After the turn onto the ridge the deep drifts let up and I was back to more reasonable knee deep post holing.



I took it nice and slow on the way down Heartbreak as I was waiting for Matt and David to catch up to me. If I stopped to wait I would get too cold so I just kept moving down the mountain assuming that at any moment they would appear behind me, but by the time I got to Star Gap they still weren't there and down the trail I went.

The lower section of Heartbreak Ridge was a different world. Instead of snow there was dirt and I was actually running. When I hit the railroad tracks there was still no sign of anyone behind me and I resolved to stop and wait once I got out to the road. After crossing the tracks I somehow made a series of wrong turns that took me in a circle around the group camp. I've been on the trail many times and still don't fully understand just how I missed the trail. It wasn't a big detour and didn't take me too long out of my way but it did mean that I had left the route and there was a chance Matt and David had passed by in those minutes. That meant it would be foolish to wait and I had no choice but to keep running on.

I wanted to take Mill Creek Rd. back instead of going up Kitsuma to finish but Yuri had scoffed at the idea when I proposed it on the phone the night before as I attempted to convince him to join me. Of course he hadn't come and that meant his scoffing was meaningless but it was still enough motivation for me to take the left towards Kitsuma instead of the right back on the road.

Normally I loath running on roads but this time running on a flat, dry surface didn't seem too bad. I kept looking over my shoulder to see if anyone would appear but knew there was a chance they were headed up Mill Creek Rd. instead.



I made the turn onto Kitsuma and the end was so close I was bound to grasp it. I'd never run Kitsuma before and had never even gone up it but know that the fast guys do it out and back in just over and hour. I thought it would take me at least that to go up it and I was right. It started nice and dry but soon the snow and slush (first of the day) started and then it just became all snow again. My mind was playing games with me and the trail decided to join in on the fun. What should have been a simply climb and descent turned into a long climb followed by a seemingly endless series of false summits. I would top a knob, drop a few switchbacks and assume it was the start of the final descent only to discover yet another knob in front of me to climb. This went on for a ridiculously long time and had me questioning if I was even still on the right trail. Of course I was and I crested the final knob just as the sun was starting to set over Ridgecrest.



I ran down the final series of switchbacks and was back at the parking lot eight hours after we had started. I was relieved to see that only my truck remained and the others hadn't stuck around to wait on me to slog out the finish to my first marathon run.

Rattle my heart indeed!

photo dump

Before I get to last weekend's Rattle My Heart marathon which was an excellent adventure in Pisgah here are some pictures from other recent runs:

Black Mtn. with the dog:




Montreat with Duma, Jon and Chris:




Montreat with PuraVida Joe and Duma:


Backyard trails:

Seven Sisters Summit Challenge

We went out Sunday to do the Seven Sisters Summit Challenge. It was a great day for a 16 mile run around beautiful Montreat and we saw lots of other users out enjoying the brief respite from winter. The only problem was we made a couple of wrong turns and by the time we corrected them and finished the route we came in with 22 miles in just over five hours with 6600' of elevation gain. When we topped out on Greybeard I proclaimed it all downhill from here and then we suffered through the final pounding 3000' descent. Finishing sure felt good!

Pilgrims

In case you haven't heard there is a new race in town. The inaugural Pisgah Running Adventure Race is bound to become one of the biggest running events in the region. The mountain bike edition is going into its twelfth year and sold out in just hours this year. PRAR promises the same fun just without silly bicycles to get in your way. I've done PMBAR the last eight years - it was my first race ever and I've done it ever since - and no matter the style I've done it in or how I've finished it has always been the best race of the year. The fast sell out shows that I'm not the only one who likes it. Normally I do not use this blog to plug or advertise any events or products but this race is going to be so much fun that I want everyone to sign up for it. 

With a 30+ mile run on the horizon I am going to need to keep running. I tend to prefer running to biking in the winter as it is easier to stay warm and it also is the perfect mode of transport to explore the many trails in the region that mountain bikes are not allowed on. I've been to a lot of those trails but there are still a lot I have yet to see. Until last weekend the closest I had gotten to the Linville Gorge was a 60 mile bike ride around it. That changed on Saturday when a group of four headed in for what we planned to be a nice 16 mile loop.

I had mapped out a real good loop for us that looked like this:

As you can see it looks really good on paper. A true loop that should give a real good representation of what the Linville Gorge has to offer.

Things started out really good and as we headed down the Pinch In trail I was immediately blown away by the scale and grandeur of this exotic and wild land just outside my backyard that I had never been to. 

Pinch In dropped us straight down to the river and the heart of the gorge. From there we stopped at a large campsite to regroup and I looked at the river and thought about the sign at the trail head warning us against a bridge being out. It was another cold winter day with the temperature somewhere around 20 degrees and the river looked big, cold and deep. I wondered what was in store for us.

I had emailed everyone a map and directions and thought we were all navigating together. Yuri with his phone, Jon with a map and phone, me with my memory and Chris with his carefree attitude. Jon's phone showed we still had a ways to go up the river trail to get to Chimbric Ridge so we took off running. I was really enjoying the very technical trail and outstanding scenery and started to get lost in my own thoughts. After awhile my navigational memory kicked in and I realized we had to have passed our intersection so I stopped the group and we pulled out our map and phones and saw that we had gone a difficult mile past our destination. 

We had a pow wow about what to do and after much debate the decision was made we would head back, find the trail and finish the loop. So back down the rocks we went.

We stopped frequently to look for a trail on the other side of the river and a way across the river. Along the way we made sure to have our share of fun.

I finally found the elusive Chimbric Ridge trail on the other side at the same campsite we had regrouped at an hour earlier where I had mused about how we would get across the river. There was no bridge and it was a hundred feet across with waist deep water. If we wanted to cross we would have to cross where it was wide and deep or else risk tragedy in the swift water. Fording would require undressing and keeping our clothes dry and out of the water would be paramount. With twenty degree air temperature and water in the 30's it would be a serious crossing.

We scouted around for the best spot and discussed our options to which I boldly announced:

"We can swim it if we try."

Chris, who is training for Mitchell, was with me but Yuri and Jon were not so sure. I was serious. I had gone through the sequence of events that would transpire in my mind and knew the amount of suffering we would endure but knew we could make it if we tried. Perhaps they knew the song and the fate of the knight who uttered those same last words. Of course they were right. There would be no Chimbric Ridge trail for us this day.

This left us with no other way to go but back up the river trail once again. It was the third time of the day for us on that stretch of trail. We went all the way up to the site of the Spence Bridge where we met some backpackers whose route had also been terminated by the impenetrable river. 

The Conley Cove trail was clearly marked and we took it and started our climb out of the gorge. It was steep but a lot easier to run than the river trail and Chris and I led the charge up to the Rock Jock trail. We had been in the gorge for many hours and with darkness not too far off I decided not to even bother looking for the LOST trail. Rock Jock was so outstanding that I didn't even wonder how the old trail could be any better. Enormous views were around every bend.

Rock Jock ended with a grunt of a climb up an old burned ridge to the Kistler Memorial Highway. A half mile of gravel later and our journey came to an end.

Thirteen miles. Six hours.

bombs away

This weekend started with grand plans. Yuri and I planned on joining the wnctrailrunner group for the Tanawana Trail half marathon which we were going to knock up to a cool twenty by going out and back to the top of Calloway Peak. Those grand plans were shattered when heavy rain entered the forecast and we very lamely bailed before we even made the drive up. The January thunderstorms passed by early afternoon and Duma and I headed out for a shot at redemption by going out and back to Turkey Pen Gap trail on Black. It was sunny and warm and the nice weather only left us feeling lamer than when we started.

So today we were right back out there with Yuri to get some good old adventuring in. Trains are last week and I  like to be hip to the trends so we headed out into Pisgah to find something else. We started late but made real good time up to the gap. I thought I knew exactly where we were going but after following no less than three wrong trails for three long ways we somehow ended up on top of Cold Mountain. The day was growing late and I still wasn't sure exactly what it was we were looking for or why, so at 5pm with just an hour of daylight left, we made a hasty retreat.

Art Loeb IV was unrelenting. It isn't bad or anything but it sure does not let up. Rocks and rocks and more rocks going downhill forever. When Camp Daniel Boone finally came into sight I made the mistake of checking my altimeter only to find we still had another six hundred feet to descend. I already knew that - my watch just confirmed the beautiful misery. We made it down in just under an hour with just minutes of daylight left. Yuri went to soak his feet in the river while I tried to decide if I should take my soaking wet socks and shoes off for the hour drive home. Then all we could talk about was food until we somehow found a Taco Bell out by the interstate where we attempted to purchase some sustenance. We would have been better off just fishing.