There are several ingredients needed for a successful marathon-distance hike. The key ingredient is that you must want it, it can't be forced. Next is ability and conditioning, if you can do a 20 miler, then a marathon should be doable. These you control. Trail conditions are important, wet rocks make for slow going, wet vegetation makes for swamped footwear. Heat and humidity are big factors, which is why I prefer fall and winter for these long hikes. I've done all but one solo, too many stops and the risk of negative reinforcement can lead to failure. Too fast and you burn out, too slow and you give in to fatigue.
Spurred by my irrational desire to do at least one marathon hike each year to justify my "SNPmarathonhiker" self-appointed title, all factors pointed toward failure this past Saturday as my brother John and I set out to do a 26.5 mile hike in the south district of Shenandoah National Park. I had fretted most of Friday deciding whether of not to attempt this. No question it was a forced hike. I've done 20 milers this season, but I'm not at my 2007-2009 condition and am accumulating numerous ailments, age not helping. The forecast was not good- dew point mid 60's; mid 40's being ideal. The trail would be saturated from the previous evening's rain, the boots would be at risk of becoming swamped. Neither of us slept well. Most of these hikes revolve around the thrill of seeing first light and sunrise from the trail, meaning a pre-2am departure. Logistics and lack of enthusiasm on my part prevented that.
Using the same start point as last weekend, John and I were walking south on Skyline Drive from Twomile Run Overlook at 7:45am, headed to Brown Mountain Overlook to take Bown Mountain Trail to Big Run Portal and Rockytop. Along Rockytop we'd do an out and back to the park boundary on Lewis Peak Trail. Once on the AT, we'd cut through Loft Mountain Campground down to the wayside, regain the AT via Frazier Discovery Trail, and take the AT north to a minor bushwhack just south of Twomile Run Overlook, 26.5 miles with 6400 feet accumulated elevation gain. It did not work out quite as planned...
The vegetation was saturated as expected. The air was saturated as expected. The rocks were wet as expected. I used mini-gaiters and attached nylon pants legs. John wore full gaiters. We both wore GoreTex boots. The rain that stays on vegetation not reaching the soil is called interception loss, lost to groundwater by evaporation. Each time that vegetation was disturbed, it deposited its water onto the legs and boots. Repeat that several thousand times, and no reasonable manner of protection will keep the feet dry. Our boots were swamped before Big Run. We were otherwise fine, slowed somewhat by wet rocks. There were hazy views from Rocky Mountain and Brown Mountain, with low clouds below us in the Big Run drainage. A moist breeze stirred up a pleasant scent of damp pine. On the descent to Big Run, King & Queen Rocks were nearly hidden in the hazy glare.
Never leave Big Run for Rockytop without ample water (as in nearly three liters)- that's something we've learned over the years. Rockytop is hot and dry in the open sun. Water from Lewis Run at the bottom of Lewis Peak Trail was no guarantee. Big Run was flowing, but lower than hoped. I did my first of four boot drying attempts here. I poured water out of the boots, wrung out the socks, ran a towel inside the boots, and put the wet socks back on. It was too early to change into dry socks- the vegetation was still saturated, I anticipated it would remain wet until early afternoon. We sterilized a load of water from Big Run, then headed towards Rockytop out Big Run Portal. Wide Big Run Portal gave a brief respite from the soaking.
Seeing ripening blueberries on Rocky Mount the previous weekend, I knew there would be ripe blueberries on Rockytop- it's the trail for blueberry lovers. They're not ripe to the point that one can grab a handful and have them pop right off, more of a seek-and-pick level of ripeness. In a week or two it should be prime picking. There were occasional signs that bears have been eating the berries too. Rockytop is revegetating from the 2002 fire, with considerable dense mid-height low growth. Though the vegetation was drying (through evaporation, keeping the air saturated), there was still water working its way into the boots. Footing was still tricky on damp rocks. Massanutten across Shenandoah Valley was a vague outline in the thick haze. Although a cold front had pushed through, we were stuck beneath an inversion, leaving a shallow layer of saturated air at the surface and bone dry air above, with no mixing. Upon reaching the open scree slope offering superb views of Rockytop (the "real" Rockytop) and Lewis Peak, we took a break for views and boot drying.
The wet boots and slick rocks took its toll, and we were moving well under the ideal pace for a comfortable marathon hike; our pace to here pointed to a 15 hour hike, not good at all. Too slow and fatigue takes over. Surely with now nearly dry trail, we'd make up time on the Lewis Peak round trip, right? Wrong. A fast mile out to the summit spur, we'd save the summit for the return. The trail beyond the summit spur is seldom used, but in fine condition, offering occasional views south. A good portion of the trail is in full sun, and the trail is steep- over 1100 feet of elevation change spread uniformly over 1.4 miles. We crossed flowing Lewis Run, reached the boundary, then headed back, stopping to fetch water from the run. It was here I noticed my first warning sign- I was shaking slightly, almost shivering, though it was plenty warm. I felt well hydrated and was consuming sodium (beef jerky- little slabs of salt), but what about the other salts?
I did my standard power climb, or tried to at least. It felt the climb was in slow motion. My pace was good, but it didn't seem so. I had to stop four times to catch my breath. Was I having a "Leading Ridge" moment? I reached the summit spur trail a couple minutes ahead of John, having climbed the 1150 feet in 36 minutes. I felt somewhat ill (not unusual for long hikes), hot and cold, certainly woozy. What had I done? Was this heat exhaustion? Did John feel the same? Somewhat, not ill, but not well either. We knew then and there we had to get out, and this marathon was in jeopardy. The Lewis Peak summit a mere three tenths of a mile away and 200 feet up, but any interest in going there was gone. Getting to the AT and Skyline Drive was our focus now. We were at mile 13.5, furthest from the car, and nearly four miles from any possible relief if needed. We were not in such dire straits as to warrant dropping back down Lewis Peak to seek help outside the park, nor to call for help. We weren't that bad off, yet.
A slight recovery took place returning to Rockytop, enough so to think that perhaps the marathon was salvageable, and I even took a few more pictures, though they were my last (when I lose interest in snapping photos, that's a bad sign). Rockytop to Big Run Loop Trail was steady but tedious. Other than three backpackers that we'd seen when setting out on Lewis Peak, the trails were deserted. Though the boots were still wet, I changed into dry socks at the loop trail junction. John had his first leg cramps here. At a steady pace, we eventually reached the AT and headed north. We passed through Doyles River Overlook, where a guy was standing on top of his car, music blasting out the windows. Ah, car folk! At the Doyles River Trail junction we had a decision to make- stick to the AT, or bail and get to Loft Mountain Wayside via Skyline Drive. We bailed. The plan now was to take portions of Skyline Drive and the AT back to the car, making for a respectable 23 miler. We walked the 1.6 miles from Doyles River parking to Loft Mountain Wayside without any interest in going the tiny bit out of the way to take in views from Big Run Overlook. It seemed a long slow hot walk.
Blackberry shakes, fries, onion rings- at least we hadn't lost our appetite. However, it became clear during that extended break that at 20 miles, our hike was over, and needed to get back to the car, some three miles away. When a park ranger pulled into the wayside, I went out to request assistance. The ranger had been called to the wayside because someone had been feeding deer. Come on car people, you know better than that! The ranger was stern and direct but did not issue a citation. I caught his attention and told him of our situation, pointing to my saturated boots, and he kindly offered to take John to his car. The ranger asked about our hydration and hike preparation, and I assured him we were not noobies out on a whim (that's not how I phrased it). He asked about our route, and when I said "Lewis Peak to the boundary and back", he replied "that will do it". John left with the ranger, the hike now in "did not finish" status (my fourth DNF hike, as best I can recall).
We were probably DUI... not alcohol, but fatigue and possible heat exhaustion. John's leg cramps struck just minutes after departing the wayside, he somehow managing to pull into Bacon Hollow Overlook to try to walk them out. But there was no walking out these cramps, they were severe and prolonged, affecting multiple muscles in both legs. By Swift Run Overlook, it was evident he could not drive, and I had to take the wheel. Being not so well off myself, but not cramping, I drove the long 2.5 hour trip home, in constant fear that I'd cramp too. I stopped twice to get him orange juice and Gatorade, and soon after getting home the cramps subsided. I never imagined that cramps could persist that long! It was perhaps severe enough to warrant a 911 call, but then we'd have never gotten home. As I've known from my long hikes, there is little hope of maintaining a proper salt balance. Staying hydrated and consuming salts to the best ability is all one can do, and we thought we had. We're not new at this, but every once in a long while, things go wrong despite best efforts.
Are my marathon hike days done? My feet, knees, and body say "yes". There has to be the final one of everything, but I'm not willing to give in to that yet. I can only hope that some fine cool crisp autumn morning I'll find myself somewhere out there on the trail watching sunrise, engulfed in the rush that comes from doing such things. Meanwhile, for now I'm left pondering why this went wrong and how to avoid it.
Spurred by my irrational desire to do at least one marathon hike each year to justify my "SNPmarathonhiker" self-appointed title, all factors pointed toward failure this past Saturday as my brother John and I set out to do a 26.5 mile hike in the south district of Shenandoah National Park. I had fretted most of Friday deciding whether of not to attempt this. No question it was a forced hike. I've done 20 milers this season, but I'm not at my 2007-2009 condition and am accumulating numerous ailments, age not helping. The forecast was not good- dew point mid 60's; mid 40's being ideal. The trail would be saturated from the previous evening's rain, the boots would be at risk of becoming swamped. Neither of us slept well. Most of these hikes revolve around the thrill of seeing first light and sunrise from the trail, meaning a pre-2am departure. Logistics and lack of enthusiasm on my part prevented that.
Using the same start point as last weekend, John and I were walking south on Skyline Drive from Twomile Run Overlook at 7:45am, headed to Brown Mountain Overlook to take Bown Mountain Trail to Big Run Portal and Rockytop. Along Rockytop we'd do an out and back to the park boundary on Lewis Peak Trail. Once on the AT, we'd cut through Loft Mountain Campground down to the wayside, regain the AT via Frazier Discovery Trail, and take the AT north to a minor bushwhack just south of Twomile Run Overlook, 26.5 miles with 6400 feet accumulated elevation gain. It did not work out quite as planned...
The vegetation was saturated as expected. The air was saturated as expected. The rocks were wet as expected. I used mini-gaiters and attached nylon pants legs. John wore full gaiters. We both wore GoreTex boots. The rain that stays on vegetation not reaching the soil is called interception loss, lost to groundwater by evaporation. Each time that vegetation was disturbed, it deposited its water onto the legs and boots. Repeat that several thousand times, and no reasonable manner of protection will keep the feet dry. Our boots were swamped before Big Run. We were otherwise fine, slowed somewhat by wet rocks. There were hazy views from Rocky Mountain and Brown Mountain, with low clouds below us in the Big Run drainage. A moist breeze stirred up a pleasant scent of damp pine. On the descent to Big Run, King & Queen Rocks were nearly hidden in the hazy glare.
Never leave Big Run for Rockytop without ample water (as in nearly three liters)- that's something we've learned over the years. Rockytop is hot and dry in the open sun. Water from Lewis Run at the bottom of Lewis Peak Trail was no guarantee. Big Run was flowing, but lower than hoped. I did my first of four boot drying attempts here. I poured water out of the boots, wrung out the socks, ran a towel inside the boots, and put the wet socks back on. It was too early to change into dry socks- the vegetation was still saturated, I anticipated it would remain wet until early afternoon. We sterilized a load of water from Big Run, then headed towards Rockytop out Big Run Portal. Wide Big Run Portal gave a brief respite from the soaking.
Seeing ripening blueberries on Rocky Mount the previous weekend, I knew there would be ripe blueberries on Rockytop- it's the trail for blueberry lovers. They're not ripe to the point that one can grab a handful and have them pop right off, more of a seek-and-pick level of ripeness. In a week or two it should be prime picking. There were occasional signs that bears have been eating the berries too. Rockytop is revegetating from the 2002 fire, with considerable dense mid-height low growth. Though the vegetation was drying (through evaporation, keeping the air saturated), there was still water working its way into the boots. Footing was still tricky on damp rocks. Massanutten across Shenandoah Valley was a vague outline in the thick haze. Although a cold front had pushed through, we were stuck beneath an inversion, leaving a shallow layer of saturated air at the surface and bone dry air above, with no mixing. Upon reaching the open scree slope offering superb views of Rockytop (the "real" Rockytop) and Lewis Peak, we took a break for views and boot drying.
The wet boots and slick rocks took its toll, and we were moving well under the ideal pace for a comfortable marathon hike; our pace to here pointed to a 15 hour hike, not good at all. Too slow and fatigue takes over. Surely with now nearly dry trail, we'd make up time on the Lewis Peak round trip, right? Wrong. A fast mile out to the summit spur, we'd save the summit for the return. The trail beyond the summit spur is seldom used, but in fine condition, offering occasional views south. A good portion of the trail is in full sun, and the trail is steep- over 1100 feet of elevation change spread uniformly over 1.4 miles. We crossed flowing Lewis Run, reached the boundary, then headed back, stopping to fetch water from the run. It was here I noticed my first warning sign- I was shaking slightly, almost shivering, though it was plenty warm. I felt well hydrated and was consuming sodium (beef jerky- little slabs of salt), but what about the other salts?
I did my standard power climb, or tried to at least. It felt the climb was in slow motion. My pace was good, but it didn't seem so. I had to stop four times to catch my breath. Was I having a "Leading Ridge" moment? I reached the summit spur trail a couple minutes ahead of John, having climbed the 1150 feet in 36 minutes. I felt somewhat ill (not unusual for long hikes), hot and cold, certainly woozy. What had I done? Was this heat exhaustion? Did John feel the same? Somewhat, not ill, but not well either. We knew then and there we had to get out, and this marathon was in jeopardy. The Lewis Peak summit a mere three tenths of a mile away and 200 feet up, but any interest in going there was gone. Getting to the AT and Skyline Drive was our focus now. We were at mile 13.5, furthest from the car, and nearly four miles from any possible relief if needed. We were not in such dire straits as to warrant dropping back down Lewis Peak to seek help outside the park, nor to call for help. We weren't that bad off, yet.
A slight recovery took place returning to Rockytop, enough so to think that perhaps the marathon was salvageable, and I even took a few more pictures, though they were my last (when I lose interest in snapping photos, that's a bad sign). Rockytop to Big Run Loop Trail was steady but tedious. Other than three backpackers that we'd seen when setting out on Lewis Peak, the trails were deserted. Though the boots were still wet, I changed into dry socks at the loop trail junction. John had his first leg cramps here. At a steady pace, we eventually reached the AT and headed north. We passed through Doyles River Overlook, where a guy was standing on top of his car, music blasting out the windows. Ah, car folk! At the Doyles River Trail junction we had a decision to make- stick to the AT, or bail and get to Loft Mountain Wayside via Skyline Drive. We bailed. The plan now was to take portions of Skyline Drive and the AT back to the car, making for a respectable 23 miler. We walked the 1.6 miles from Doyles River parking to Loft Mountain Wayside without any interest in going the tiny bit out of the way to take in views from Big Run Overlook. It seemed a long slow hot walk.
Blackberry shakes, fries, onion rings- at least we hadn't lost our appetite. However, it became clear during that extended break that at 20 miles, our hike was over, and needed to get back to the car, some three miles away. When a park ranger pulled into the wayside, I went out to request assistance. The ranger had been called to the wayside because someone had been feeding deer. Come on car people, you know better than that! The ranger was stern and direct but did not issue a citation. I caught his attention and told him of our situation, pointing to my saturated boots, and he kindly offered to take John to his car. The ranger asked about our hydration and hike preparation, and I assured him we were not noobies out on a whim (that's not how I phrased it). He asked about our route, and when I said "Lewis Peak to the boundary and back", he replied "that will do it". John left with the ranger, the hike now in "did not finish" status (my fourth DNF hike, as best I can recall).
We were probably DUI... not alcohol, but fatigue and possible heat exhaustion. John's leg cramps struck just minutes after departing the wayside, he somehow managing to pull into Bacon Hollow Overlook to try to walk them out. But there was no walking out these cramps, they were severe and prolonged, affecting multiple muscles in both legs. By Swift Run Overlook, it was evident he could not drive, and I had to take the wheel. Being not so well off myself, but not cramping, I drove the long 2.5 hour trip home, in constant fear that I'd cramp too. I stopped twice to get him orange juice and Gatorade, and soon after getting home the cramps subsided. I never imagined that cramps could persist that long! It was perhaps severe enough to warrant a 911 call, but then we'd have never gotten home. As I've known from my long hikes, there is little hope of maintaining a proper salt balance. Staying hydrated and consuming salts to the best ability is all one can do, and we thought we had. We're not new at this, but every once in a long while, things go wrong despite best efforts.
Are my marathon hike days done? My feet, knees, and body say "yes". There has to be the final one of everything, but I'm not willing to give in to that yet. I can only hope that some fine cool crisp autumn morning I'll find myself somewhere out there on the trail watching sunrise, engulfed in the rush that comes from doing such things. Meanwhile, for now I'm left pondering why this went wrong and how to avoid it.
Pictures
