Elkton, VA 1284.5 to Blackrock Hut 1309.3 (24.8 miles, 1309.3 total miles)
I didn’t get to sleep till midnight, after getting everything ready for the morning, and 4AM came fast. I let myself sleep till quarter after, and struggled to get my teeth brushed, change into hiking clothes, and drink a piping hot cup of coffee as quick as I could.
The cats were running about the barn, trying to get us to play with them, with zero care of what time it was. I spent a couple minutes petting and holding Tot on my lap, one of the ginger kittens.
He’d slept on the cot with me last night, and apart from him biting my arms playfully, but painfully, it had been a real treat.
Wayne arrived to pick us up around 4:45, and we got all four packs loaded in, and piled into the Escape that Wayne had brought with him this time.
While in the car, we found out three of us have sequential birthdays. Mine is May 9th (the same as Tessa’s, in fact), Woah Frog’s is May 10th, and Wayne’s is May 11th. Rather interesting, we all thought.
Iroh and I were dropped off in the dark at Swift Run Gap at 5:15. Wayne was taking Woah Frog and Big Day another 25 miles up to finish the last two days of their section hike.
Wayne gave me a hug before we departed, and we wished the other two luck on the rest of their journey. Iroh and I began hiking up the mountain with our headlamps on five minutes later.
Faint stars twinkled above us as we ascended almost 3 miles to Hightop Mountain. I followed behind Iroh, and was spared the spiderwebs that littered the unbroken trail.
It was my first time purposefully beginning to hike before sunrise, not on an evening or overnight hiking excursion, which we did a lot back in 2015.
Knowing the sun was going to come up in an hour was a boost to the psyche. We climbed into the clouds, and at the peak of Hightop were surrounded by a wall of fog, a steep drop ahead that we couldn’t see but for the sea of white that swirled around us.
Iroh had been hiking strong, and for a change I was the one struggling to keep up with him. I could already feel the lack of sleep tugging on my body, making me want to stop and catch my breath or ask him to slow down.
I didn’t let myself, though, and was glad I didn’t. We made it to the top faster, and I was able to push myself the way I like to. As a rule, I try to never stop on an uphill when left to my own devices.
Since climbing Moosilauke on my first hike, I learned instead of stopping, to slow to whatever speed will keep me moving. I would use that as my break, until I caught my breath and could speed up again.
Even if it was the slowest plod I could muster, I just kept moving. I wouldn’t lose my momentum, and over time became that much stronger.
We descended .6 down the mountain, recovering from the climb. When we reached the spur trail to Hightop Hut at 6:33, we saw a couple women with headlamps heading out, going north.
We said hi to them, and made our way down the .1 side trail to the shelter, as the sky lightened to azure around us.
After we’d each used the privy, we split the breakfast that Kelly had packed me to go. I’d only had brown sugar pop tarts to get me up the incline, so the hard boiled eggs, toast, and orange slices were welcome to my body.
Iroh finished the other eggs, sausage, and grapes, and we hung out at the shelter for over an hour. Iroh made tea, and by the time we were hiking again the sun was fully up, though still hidden behind a thick layer of clouds overhead.
I lead us the 3 miles downhill to the road, and the webs were still early morning unpleasant. We hiked through thick foliage, our shoes and socks soon completely soaked through from evident rainwater of the night before sitting on the plants.
We crossed Skyline at Smith Roach Gap, looking for a place to sit for a minute. I was already feeling exhausted by the lack of sleep I’d now had the last three nights.
I figured that the adrenaline would get me going, but the crash would hit once the sun was up, and I was right. I’d had enough experiences of travel starting before sunrise to know what to expect of myself.
The skies had unexpectedly cleared while we were at the gap, and we had a beautiful view at the overlook ahead, a mix of clouds and sun. I asked Iroh to pace us to the next shelter, because my speed was just not there today.
We went up and over two more mountains before arriving at Pinefield Hut, another .1 off trail. The shelter was deserted, and since this morning we’d only seen one other hiker pass us going northbound.
It was maybe around 11:45 when we arrived, 11.6 miles into our day, with another 13.5 to go. I’d almost entirely stopped keeping track of timing and pace, so tired I’d dropped behind Iroh a couple times on our way up the mountains.
I’d been expecting the 25 mile day to take about 9 hours, figuring on a 3 mph hiking pace and an hour of breaks. I could see that was going to be wildly off, as we’d now taken over six hours with breaks to travel the 11.6.
I took a turkey grinder and leftover mac and cheese from town out of my bag for lunch. I had a few bites of the mac n cheese, but decided to save that for later, and ate the grinder instead.
Iroh and I had a good conversation while we ate, and he was nice enough to collect water for us both from the very low stream next to the shelter. The sun made a brief appearance, and we laid our wet shoes and socks out to dry.
We both wanted to nap before continuing on, though I decided to only rest for 20 minutes. From what I’ve read, 20-30 minutes is the optimal amount of time for a power nap, without going into the wrong sleep cycle and waking up groggy.
I laid on the picnic table bench for 20 minutes, half meditating, half dozing until it was time to get up. Iroh was laying in the shelter with his sleeping bag wrapped around himself, wanting to stay longer and get more rest.
I knew I needed the extra time to get to camp, figuring my grand plan had been a misfire. I hadn’t wanted to get to camp around 7PM, feeling that was too late.
So we’d gotten up early, and started hiking early, but because of the lack of sleep, I couldn’t see any way around still arriving at camp at 7PM, best case scenario, at this point.
Still, who knew if leaving Small Axe Farms at 9 or 9:30 would have really worked to hike 25 miles and get in before dark. Energy levels and speed fluctuate, and maybe today was always destined to be a slower day.
I left the shelter just before 1PM, putting on a podcast to try and distract my brain from how many miles I still had yet to travel. I’d drank a propel and a caffeine packet at lunch, but didn’t feel any effect on my body.
It took me an hour and a half to travel 3.1 miles up and down two climbs to Ivy Creek. By the podcast timer it had only taken me an hour of actual hiking, but I’d taken a long break, needing to get a couple things done on my phone when I found service at an overlook.
Ivy Creek was an actually nice running water source, but I wasted time filtering half a liter that I didn’t drink before I got to the campground store ahead, where I could have easily filled up on potable water.
I did have a protein bar while I was there for 10 minutes, before moving on at 2:42, with another 10 miles to go. The day felt like it was dragging on forever, and I knew it was because of the breaks as much as the mileage.
I put on a Childish Gambino album to give me energy as I made my way up the last little steep climb of the day. Fortunately, I knew the terrain would get much easier after the camp store.
It seemed to take much too long to travel the 2.7 to the store, though it only was an hour. Loft Mountain Camp Store was a mere 100 yards off trail, which was much better than the .6 side trail to the wayside.
I really needed a pick me up, even though I knew it was going to cost me more time. I got a Butterfinger ice cream bar, a bottle of Mug root beer, and a Tyson microwaveable spicy chicken sandwich.
I needed the sugar rush of the soda and ice cream right then. Everything in my fanny pack I’d been snacking on was healthy food with natural protein, carbs, and sugar. Processed junk food would give me a mental and physical boost.
The chicken sandwich and a packet of mayo went in my pack next to the mac n cheese. If I could save time by not cooking when I got into camp late this evening, that would be another mental boost.
While I was sitting on the stoop eating my ice cream, a woman around my age with a young daughter came over and asked me if I was hiking the Appalachian Trail.
Her eyes lit up when I told her I was, and she said wistfully that she wished she’d done it before having her daughter. I told her how there are usually a few families with young children on the trail every year, and it was always possible to take her.
We had a nice conversation, and though I was dirty, smelly, and completely exhausted, the woman had made me feel like a rock star again. She reminded me why I do this, and why it’s worth the difficult times.
After finishing my ice cream and soda, which had definitely helped, I got moving again just after 4. I tried to concentrate on the fact I’d hiked 16.3 miles already, and not that I had another 8.5 to go.
As I hiked with a new podcast episode on, I thought about Jennifer Pharr Davis quite a bit. Reading how she’d started every day before sunrise and finished after sunset had put a lot of things in perspective.
She never ran the trail until the last day, unlike a lot of the ultra marathoners who’d gone for the FKT record before and since. She simply hiked 3 mph, all day every day during her FKT.
Davis said multiple times in her book that breaking the record wasn’t about speed, but rather endurance. Continuing to keep moving, even when her body (and mind) was begging her to stop.
It didn’t matter that I wasn’t fast today. Sure, I’d broken all my own personal speed records lately on the AT, but I didn’t need speed to finish my goal for the day. I just needed persistence, and endurance.
So I kept hiking. When it started to rain, when I had to stop and put my rain jacket on my pack, and put my phone away to keep it from getting wet, I kept hiking.
When the only way I could find to entertain my mind was to list every thru hiker’s name I could remember from this year’s hike or in the log book and tapped out at 130, I kept hiking.
When I looked at the mile markers on the concrete posts and thought for sure I must have gone farther but hadn’t, I just kept walking. When I had to stop for a snack and felt like my eyes wouldn’t stay open anymore, I just got moving again.
Eventually the rain tapered off after 45 minutes and I was able to put my podcast back in. My right earbud promptly stopped working, and I’d killed my second set on trail this hike. That was okay, I could get another pair in town.
The trail was blessedly east after the campground, and my body was grateful for that. I climbed the very gentle slope of Blackrock, and was struck by how similar it felt to being in Maine.
With the clouds and fog rolling through the rocky summit of the mountain, and my rain jacket flapping in the wind, it was almost exactly like being on top of White Cap Mountain in the 100 Mile Wilderness.
It was a magical moment, made all the more special by the fact that I only had .6 down the slope to the shelter. The day was finally, truly almost over.
At 6:45 I was on the spur trail down the ridge to Blackrock Hut, as usual praying that it was empty, but I saw people ahead sitting at the picnic table in front of the shelter.
I had a moment of panic and social anxiety, but quickly gave myself a pep talk that it would be fine, as it always is. I forced myself to change my attitude to acceptance and optimism.
Of course, I made fast friends with the four men who were there having dinner. Two of them were a father and son hiking to Harpers Ferry. The son had started at Amicalola Falls before Springer, and his dad had met him in Tennessee.
Another young man, Paperclip, was also hiking Amicalola to Harpers, though he hadn’t met the other two before today. I was pleased to hear he’d met Sweets in town recently.
The last man was on a shorter section, though they all had lots of questions for me about my hike, which I was happy to answer. They were easy to talk to, and all going north, so I could give them info on what was ahead.
I was even able to open the bear box for them, which had a tricky handle I’d already encountered on other ones north of them. Iroh arrived while I was changing into my camp clothes by the privy, having arrived about an hour after me due to his extended nap.
We turned in by 10, ready for a real night of sleep. We both wanted to get to town as early as we could, but needed rest more. I was hoping that going slow today would give me speed tomorrow.
Though I’d realized that no matter how slow I went, if I kept persisting I would make my goal in the end. Speed was fun, and competing against myself and other hikers was fun for me as well, but that wasn’t the point.
The point was to keep moving with tenacity until I arrived where I wanted to be. Just like every trail lesson that had come before, it applied equally to life as it did to hiking.