Too much coffee, and a Dunkin Donuts breakfast sandwich really wasn't sitting well. I was ready to unleash the fury.
Imagine my frustration when I run to the toilet to see this sign:
No worries. I would just maintain my old beliefs since high school that somehow, my body would absorb and use for fuel what I was supposed to expel. Or I would have to unleash that fury on the trail somewhere. Once I got over the fact that I wouldn't be sitting on porcelain on this morning, I prepared my pack for my Autumn Pemi Loop. Mittens, jackets, and way too much other clothing. It had only been a couple weeks ago, during my Summer Pemi Loop, done overnight, when I almost went to the hypothermia danger zone on Franconia Ridge.
The weather today would be warm, but memories of that scary night had some bearing on why there was now a clothing store in my pack. Notably, my camera was dead. I would be relegated to taking pictures from my awesome dumbphone.
As I made my way to the trailhead at 9:45am, I laughed as multiple cars pulled up, people rushed out of them, yanked on the bathroom door, and then made their way back to their vehicle as if they had just been the victim of a cruel prank.
In the last couple of months, I had done the loop a few times through the night. Not because I'm a lunatic...more out of necessity. The first time, was because Spring was ending and I ran out of days. The second time-when I almost froze- was just 3 weeks ago, a few days before the official end of Summer. With a busy Autumn ahead, I figured now was the time to get this one done. Finally, I was going to get a crack at running the Pemi during daylight.
The game plan was to run every section I could. I haven't been running a lot(aka none), but I figured I could at least walk when I was tired.
I opted for a clockwise run, thinking that getting Lafayette out of the way early, and saving the non-technical railroad bed for the end would be easier on the mind.
Up the Osseo Trail, I stopped on the ladders for my first de-layering. No more hat, no more long sleeve.
It was actually warm. Almost too warm. Leave it to the White Mountains to almost freeze me in the summer, and make me die of heat in the fall.
In a lot less than a 2 hours from the start, I had hit Flume. The foliage was past it's prime. Maybe that's why no one was there. I feared I'd be overrun by day hikers in jeans admiring colors. Thankfully, so far, I had the trail to myself. I walked across, looking down the Flume Slides, wondering why I hadn't been up that trail, ever.
The headphones began playing techno music from my ipod, which I don't listen to outside of teaching Spinning classes, but I was feeling good, so I vibed out to it. In what seemed like minutes later, I was standing on top of Liberty, eating my first "meal": Doritos, Vitamin Water, and Beef Jerky. It was still early in this thing, but I was STARVING. One dude on the other side of some rocks must have heard me scarfing this shit, thinking something was dreadfully wrong. I pictured him sitting still listening, trying not to move or make eye contact until I was gone. No worries buddy, this'll only take a couple minutes.
I literally ran to Little Haystack from there. The trail flows and isn't really technical. I was feeling good from the food, and now I was letting my pace get a little crazy. As I made my way towards Lincoln, I was a little bummed when my eyes spied blotches of color far ahead on the trail. HERE's where all the people are. I let my disappointment morph into competitive drive. All of a sudden, this was a race, and now I was going to pick off every one of these hikers, with their big packs and hiking poles, as quick as I could. Lincoln was littered with people. I couldn't stay there. On to Lafayette.
I arrived at the peak of Lafayette in about 3 hours time from the start, and didn't realize it, because no one was there. Awesome! Mo' food. Looking down at my shoes, now on their 3rd pemi, among other runs and hikes, I wondered if perhaps it was time to replace them? I don't know. I like the way my feet feel everything and the amount of control over where I step. The rubber has plenty of traction, and I can tiptoe over 2 inch roots. Try doing that in clunky trail runners.
After a nice solo meal, I looked down at Garfield, my old home. It looked so small as I sat up here, almost 500 feet higher. I wondered if the moose skeleton was still sitting there by the cliffs. Enough dilly-dallying. Time to go.
The trail was fast all the way across Garfield Ridge, but when I hit the pond and began the real ascent up the mountain, I found my first low.
Just placing one foot in front of the other and dealing with it, I arrived at the top, snapped a shot, and began my descent to the water source on the side of the mountain.
The thought of quitting as I arrived at the water source didn't enter my mind, but I was certainly on the ropes. My "meals" simply weren't enough. Chips and nuts and jerky just don't hold enough calories. On the Pemi Loop, I always, always hit Garfield feeling like crap. Always. There must be something magical in the water on the side of that mountain, because I always leave feeling like a champ. I made a playlist of every Pantera, Five Finger Death Punch, Hellyeah, Hopsin, and metal song on my iPod. The next hour and a half was a blur of running, bounding over rocks and trees, and passing groups of backpackers like they were walking backwards. Before I knew it, I was standing on top of South Twin, every bit as smoked as I was on Garfield.
Red Bull Time. I looked at my watch and realized that I only had a couple hours of daylight left, and my light was not my normal one. I had forgotten my headlight in Nicole's car when she went to work, so I detached my bike light and planned to use it if I HAD to run in the dark. I secretly hoped I would be done before sunset.
With this in mind, I really pushed it to the Bonds, running stuff I would normally hike. It seemed like only a few minutes passed before I was on top of Mount Bond.
I wasted no time there, even though I felt very tired. The talus and large rocks that was the "trail" was very mentally draining. Here was no place to break an ankle, 10ish miles from anything. The Ritz crackers in my pocket tasted like cardboard but I ate them anyway.
Finally, I was at the top of the final climb, before the long descent back to Lincoln Woods. It was a little after 5pm. I watched the sun start it's setting behind the mountains.
Running down the Bondcliff Trail, I figured I'd probably be in the dark on the flat and fast Wilderness Trail, but the forest became dark very quickly. About 15 minutes before I hit the Wilderness Trail, I came to a large blowdown which obscured the trail. Until this point, I could mostly make out the trail, but I wasn't going to wander around it in the dark and get lost. Pulling out my light, which had gotten wet on a bike ride a few days ago, I had a sinking feeling for some reason. I pressed the button. Sure as shit, the light turned on for a millisecond, and I was in the dark again. A small moment of panic.
I pressed the button again. The light came on, and then shut off as soon as my finger left the switch. I pressed the button over and over and over. Okay. I had manual strobe mode. Better than nothing, I guess. I spent the last 5 miles of the hike, running and holding the light in my hand, pressing the button a million times per minute, tripping over railroad ties and branches unseen in the dark moments of the strobe.
As I crossed the bridge and finished in about 9 hrs 50, I marveled at how this loop does not get easier with each time it is completed. Nonetheless, I enjoy this long loop because it is more than just a hike/run across many different landscapes. It is a journey into yourself. It feels and runs harder than any 50 mile run I have ever done. I shall continue to run this every season for many seasons to come, I hope.
Tentman, over and out! Thanks for reading!
kp
