4:20 am: I wake up in my tent ten minutes before my alarm goes off. I wonder if I should just get up, but I don’t hear anyone else yet and I decide to close my eyes for a few more minutes.
4:40 am: I hear Jeremy and Brad doing breakfast-related things and peel myself out of my tent for coffee.
Brad, Jeremy, Wayne, Ned, Jenny Mac and I have all camped at Davidson River (the southern end of the Art Loeb Trail) and have made plans to leave the campground by 5:30, drive to the northern trailhead at the Daniel Boone Scout Camp in Canton, NC, and be on the trail by 7:00. Jimmie, a new friend local to the area, will be joining us at Davidson to ride over, and Aimee, the orchestrator of this adventure, will be joining us at DB. We cram my old Explorer to maximum capacity and head over. The drive is only about an hour and ten minutes but I still feel bad; most of these guys are over 6 feet tall. Wayne really enjoys sitting in the middle seat (not really.)
We arrive at the Boy Scout camp and roll down a window to ask some passing scouts where the trailhead is. They don’t know, but the guys are eager to stretch their legs, and make a quick exit from the car. We ask a counselor and she points up the road and references a point behind a building we can see. We get there and find a line of vehicles on the shoulder of the dirt road by the trail. Jim and Aimee pull up at the same time we do (Jim will be crewing us) and I open my trunk to begin transferring our drop bags to his SUV. A beer falls out of the trunk and explodes as another troupe of scouts makes their way towards us. I hold the exploded can behind my back as a counselor asks us if we’ve registered in the office. We haven’t. It’s back where we first pulled in and I sigh (mostly for my lack of drop-bag beer.) Aimee and I walk back up to the camp office to register. We find out that there isn’t actually an official registration procedure. The camp just asks that hikers leave a visible note on or in their car relaying the number of hikers in their group and when they plan to return to pick up the vehicle. We scribble a note on some scrap paper in the office and return to the car. The rest of the group begins to read the notes on the other vehicles. Some are pretty funny!
We get on the trail at 7:33. It’s a little later than we had originally planned, but we’re not worried about time. Two days after the summer solstice, this will be one of the longest days of the year. We have plenty of daylight. Our research (other people’s trail reports) has led us to believe that it will take us between 11 and 13 hours depending on how the day goes. We all hope it won’t take more than 12, but shit happens.
The first mile is an uphill climb. No one talks. It reminds me of the Mitchell trail up from Black Mountain Campground. We arrive in a clearing, breathless, and take a little snack break. Signs point towards Cold Mountain, Daniel Boone Trail, and Shining Rock Wilderness.
We head towards Shining Rock. This is the easiest part of Art Loeb to get lost on (per our research) which is part of the reason we have decided to take the trail N to S. (So we can tackle it clear-headed and as a group.) We also know it will be the most scenic part of the day, and figure we’ll be more of a mind for photo opportunities early on. We continue climbing. The growth on either side of the trail is high and interspersed with poison ivy, but the trail is clear. We travel through Deep Gap and up Stairs Mountain. The higher we climb, the more the trail opens up, and the more technical our footing becomes. Stairs Mountain is the first place we encounter trail confusion. We’ve been told by multiple sources that we will encounter forks where it appears that each trail could be THE trail. This section of trail is not marked so it is hard to tell. Wayne and I both have the Trail Run Project app on our phones and periodically check whether we are “on trail.” Wayne, Ned, and Jeremy have gone ahead of us a little bit and we think we hear them on the alternate trail below us. Jenny Mac blows her whistle but we can’t tell where the response comes from. Jenny, Jimmie, Aimee, Brad and I all backtrack and head towards the lower trail, before deciding it is definitely not the way. We climb back up the trail and I briefly wonder if we will see the guys again that day. Three minutes later, we’re in a clearing with them. Both trails converged at the same place. Phew!
We climb more and hit a runnable flat section. It feels good to open up and move. I arrive in a clearing where the others have stopped and are talking to some hikers who have set up camp. They have a beautiful dog and I desperately want her to be my friend, but she decides I’m sketchy and keeps her distance. (She likes Brad though.) Sadness!
Once everyone has caught up, we leave the clearing and arrive in an open meadow (Shining Rock Gap.) I’m blown away by our surroundings. The weather is perfect (sunny + 70’s/80’s up high) and the colors of each windblown blade of grass and flower are electric. Although the trail is for the most part even, it’s hard to run. The trail is only 10 to 12 inches wide, and is sunken in between the plant life. Simply put: it’s hard to see where you’re putting your feet. But no one cares about the pace, everyone is too busy staring at our surroundings (except Jeremy, he runs ahead. Speed racer!)
Soon the growth on either side of us (mostly early blueberries) is taller than our heads and we lose our path. Trail Run Project confirms that the little blue dot that represents us is in fact NOT on the trail. We backtrack and find where we took the wrong fork. We’re all glad we have decided to do this part of the trail first, as getting lost in a blueberry jungle would not have seemed as hilarious on the homestretch of our journey.
We stay in the high country, and climb a little more up Flower Knob and into Flower Gap. I ask Ned how he’s doing and find out he’s been feeling queasy all day and has been having a hard time taking in food. He smiles, and I wish there was something I could do. We are approaching Tennent Mountain and Black Balsam, our final landmarks before meeting our crew vehicles at the parkway about 12 miles in. Aimee tells me several people are talking about stopping there. Do we want to stop there too?
I feel selfish, but I don’t want to stop. The climbing has been tough, but I expected that. We are only halfway through our day timewise (even less, mileage wise) and I wonder if that has gotten to people’s heads. (It’s taken us about five hours to go twelve miles.) I tell Brad that I plan to do the whole thing, even if it’s just me, and I can tell he’s annoyed because he knows (that I know) that he won’t let me do it by myself. I hope everyone will decide to continue once they’ve had a little break at the cars.
We top out at Black Balsam (the trail’s highest point at 6,214 ft.) and Aimee and Brad start flying down the downhill to the parkway, which we can see from the trail. It’s fun to watch. This area is crowded with tourists and many clearly wonder where we’ve come from and WHY we’re running. Aimee and I see a little girl walking barefoot up the rocks in a bathing suit and wonder WHY about that. Ouch!
Jim, and Jimmie’s wife Twyla are both there at the road, trunks open. Jim has COLD water, pickles, chips, cuties, gummy bears, and Coke (thanks Aimee!) and Twyla has POPSICLES, sandwiches, salt, and watermelon. It’s a true oasis! I’m totally out of water, and it’s nice to refill with something so cold. Also, the popsicles are amazing…
Ned calls it. He’s worried his nutrition will fall farther behind, and Jenny Mac decides to stop as well. Her ankle is really bugging her and she’s got some big races coming up. No need to get injured. When Jimmie arrives, he calls it too. He rolled his ankle hard and he can’t get it to stabilize. I’m sad to see our group shrink, but they are all making smart decisions. I still feel good, but I know things could (and probably will) go downhill for me at some point in the near future. The group decides to meet us at the next road crossing, even though it is less than two miles away, just in case anyone else decides to drop. There are some runnable parts on this section, but I am moving slow. I’m really full from all the food and fluids I took in at the car; but I’m happy I was able to “fill the tank.” Calorie shortage is usually my downfall on warm weather days. I realize here that I might not have much company the rest of the day. The remaining group is pretty quick, and while I know they will wait for me at major intersections and turns, I don’t expect them (or want them) to slow their pace to keep conversation with me.
We climb some more, and then hit a runnable downhill of switchbacks. I hear our friends down at the road and try to think about whether I should try to take in any more food. When I arrive I open another coke and Aimee grabs a popsicle. We all decide to continue, and after hugging Ned (who graciously offers to go pick up my car from DB- thanks Ned!) we head back out. It’s 4-5 miles to the next road crossing (Gloucester Gap), during which we will climb Pilot Mountain (Wayne reminds us.) Jeremy sprints off and I figure we won’t see him again til camp.
The trail is well marked from here out. We see some mountain bikers and ask them how far to Pilot Mountain. “Not far. And if you see two trails marked ‘Art Loeb’, they both will take you where you want to go.” We soon come to a fork and decide to take the path on the left. It appears that the trail on the right goes up and over the wooded ridge, and the trail we are on goes around it. A mountain bike alternative. The four of us soon come to where they converge, and agree that it was nice to run for a bit. (The trail we took was totally flat!) We start climbing again and find ourselves atop Pilot Mountain. A lone hiker takes our photo and assures us we are more than 2/3 of the way done with our trek. The rest of this section is interspersed with shorter technical climbs and downhills of varying steepness and technicality. I am starting to feel tired in a bonkish way, and make a point to take in gels with added caffeine. We arrive at a forest road crossing and wonder if this is where our crew is supposed to be meeting us. Wayne checks the map on his phone and determines that it is farther down the trail. We cross another forest road before hitting a downhill switchback that leads to the Fish Hatchery Rd at Gloucester Gap. A pair of hikers steps to the side as we descend, and as I assure them that I am the last one, Jeremy comes bombing down the hill behind me. It’s still about a quarter mile down to the car, and he slows down his pace to fill me in on where he’s been.
Apparently, he missed some signage after leaving the parkway and when the Mountains to Sea trail and Art Loeb trail forked in separation, he stayed on MST. He took the trail all the way to a different trailhead on the parkway, and ran the parkway back to Black Balsam where we had gotten on before. I guess he has added 5-6 miles to his day, but he laughs it off. When we arrive at the Fish Hatchery Rd, Brad, Wayne, and Aimee are shocked and pleased to see him, and he fills in the group. Jimmie is there with Twyla and we immediately dig in to the popsicles again. (Still, miraculously frozen!) Jim pulls up a few moments later and we are all grateful he was able to find the place. He has the precious Coke! Aimee’s stomach is beginning to bother her. We all do our best to take in as much food as we can, fill our packs, and make sure we have our headlamps. We don’t plan to be in the dark, but better to be safe than sorry. We are at about mile 18, and estimate we have a (slow) half marathon left; maybe four hours and some change. This is the last time we will see our crew.
We get back on the trail and I immediately fall behind everyone else. I love to climb but it is wearing on me and I am ready for some runnable downhills. Brad and Aimee alternately hang back at turns in the trail to wait for me. Brad asks me how I’m doing and whether my knee is bothering me. (I’ve been dealing with a minor issue the last few weeks.) I truthfully answer that my knee is fine; I’m just tired, like everyone else. My feet hurt, and I’m ready to stop climbing. I take in a gel, trying to shake the dark place I can feel encroaching around me. My legs feel “next-day” heavy, and I think about how much time we took at the car...
I’m pretty sure I was right about the amount of distance we have left to cover…
About an hour after leaving Gloucester, we arrive in a clearing with an A-frame camping shelter. A big group is getting set up for the night and they inform us that we are 9.2 miles from Davidson Campground (the end of the trail!) It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard, and I tell them that. I’m heartened by my correct guesstimation of distance, and I can tell everyone else is smelling the barn as well. Smiles all around!
Aimee asks if I think it will take 3 hours. I hope it only takes two (I'm expecting a lot of downhill)… but I nod. She's probably right. Wayne and Jeremy sprint off into the woods, Brad close behind. I can tell he’s torn between keeping us company and finishing as soon as possible. Aimee leads the way and I follow. As excited as I am to be “almost done” I can tell I’m still headed towards a mental low point. Aimee is wearing BRIGHT orange shorts, and I make a goal to keep her in view and not fall too far behind. The trail dips inside a rhododendron tunnel. Ned, Wayne, Jenny Mac and I did an out-and-back run on the last mile and a half of trail the night before, and the environment is familiar. I know it will be awhile before we get there, but the sight is comforting.
It’s already dark inside the tunnel, but it gets darker. What time is it? 5:00 pm? I hear what sounds like rain, then thunder. An afternoon storm. The rhodos are so dense that I don’t feel water for another ten minutes or so. When I finally feel raindrops, it’s welcome and refreshing.
I’ve been alone for a bit, but I catch sight of Aimee up ahead. She slows down a little. I tell her she doesn’t have to wait for me, and she tells me she’s just taking a break. I’m overwhelmed inside my own head; thinking about the big fall races I’m signed up for, wondering why I do this stuff, and seriously thinking about giving way to a big pity party/cry. I accept her lie and am grateful for the company. I take in a caffeinated Roctane gel and start to feel moderately better. I ask how her stomach is doing. “Not the best, not the worst,” and tell her to let me know if she needs anything. We take the downhills easy. Some are steeper than others. None of the “ups” from here out are major climbs, but they feel big enough. We both agree that something flat sounds pretty good.
Out of my mental fog, we switch places, and I take a turn up front. The storm has blown over and spiders are beginning to build their webs for the evening (blegh.) Aimee’s knee is starting to lock up and we begin to hike the downhills. About five miles out from the trailhead, we begin to hear music. At this point we aren’t sure how much farther to go we have, and I know we are both hoping beyond hope that it means the campground is near. I remember seeing the road from the last mile and a half of trail, so I’m pretty sure we are at least 3 miles out, but probably more. We keep moving, and I decide that it must be live music coming from Pisgah Tavern. Ten minutes later, I tell Aimee that I think we have less than a “biscuit run” left. Compartmentalizing usually helps me. At the end of a long race, I tend to think; “Ok, just a trail run behind the house with Maggie left”, “Just __ laps around the track left.” Whatever distance fits the situation at hand. Aimee and I both run on the Oiselle Volée team, and about once a month we try to meet as a group and do a short run before having brunch together. “3 miles?” she asks. I was thinking 4, but I nod.
We continue our resolved shuffle, and after a few false recognitions of our turnaround spot from the night before, I am sure we are on the last mile and a half stretch. Ten minutes later, after what seems like endless downhill, we are on the flat path by the river… and it goes on for what seems like forever, even though I know it’s less than half a mile. We hit the bridge crossing the river, and are on the walking path to the campground trailhead. I ask Aimee if she wants to run it in and she laughs. That's a "No." We both look wistfully at the water, wanting to lay in it. “After.” I say, thinking the others will probably think something happened to us if we don’t arrive soon. “Screw them.” She laughs, and we continue.
I can see the parking lot, and as I am warning Aimee that we still have another bit to walk once we get there (to get to the campsite) we see people standing at the end of the trail. Our people! Jim, Jenny Mac, and Wayne are all standing there waiting for us. It's hard not to smile uncontrollably the rest of the walk in. Jim hands us each a cold Mandarina IPA (the same brew that fell out of my trunk at the beginning of our day) and a cold snickers. (Can you say "Crew Person of the Year"???) It's hugs all around, and Jim drives us back to the campsite, where Brad is ready with a hot skillet of pierogis - my favorite! (We don't end up going in the river. We're shivering in our sweat drenched clothes in the cooler evening temps.)
It ended up taking the guys less than 12 hours, including all of our aid stops, and Aimee and I around 12.5; still within our original timetable. (We never needed headlamps.) We’re all glad we chose to tackle the trail in the direction that we did (North to South) as the toughest climbs, most scenic views, and easiest places to get lost all occurred in the less business-like parts of the day. We ended up with just under 7,000 ft of gain for the day and nearly 8,000 ft (7,726) of descent. I'm happy that we took the time that we did to enjoy the trail, and incredibly grateful for the company of so many gifted runners and the aid of supportive friends. I definitely look forward to doing more exploring in the area.
PS: This was Aimee's idea as a way to celebrate her birthday! Also, it convinced her to enter the Georgia Death Race Lottery! I love you crazy lady! Thanks for the rager!
