A Virginia Shakedown
“A bad dress rehearsal makes for a great opening night.” That’s what I had to tell myself as I had my eleventh mini-meltdown while hiking from the Priest to Punchbowl Mountain Overlook on the Appalachian Trail in Virginia last weekend. Tara and I set out to do a shakedown hike ahead of our FKT attempt on the Colorado Trail later this summer. Shakedown meaning, we were testing out our backpacking gear which included the Nashville Cutaway Pack, plus it gave us an opportunity to figure out the best way to hike together as a team.
I was giddy with excitement going into this hike. A weekend spending quality time on my favorite trail with a friend that loves the AT and wild adventures just as much, if not more, than I do. I was giddy for other reasons too. If I could describe my state of being going into this trip it would be “tired and wired”. There are some areas in my life I have felt stuck, or complacent. Or just parts of myself I have put on hold in the midst of my first busy school year.
I guess a good example would be, all of my furniture and belongings arrived in Boston after the fall semester had already started. There was no reasonable time to unpack anything in an organized fashion. I just stuffed things away in cupboards and closets, never to be used or seen throughout the rest of the year. Things that represent my hobbies and interests: books, dance wear, climbing gear, musical instruments, cooking utensils. After two semesters went by of barely touching these items, I started to question whether I should even keep them if they weren’t getting any use. I considered just selling everything and downsizing.
Now that the spring semester is over, I’ve had more time to embrace these other aspects of myself. My material possessions represent some of these things, but I mean it in every sense. This imagery came into my head of a bud, or flower, under an upside down glass vase. Sort of like the enchanted rose in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. I think I’ve been in a sort of self-protective mode the last couple years, trying to get my life in order following a loss and uprooting myself after 13 years in Portland. My daily routine became very important, and I’d get unreasonably upset if that routine was disturbed. I think having that structure was helpful to a point, but ultimately it became stifling, as if I were stunting my own growth.
It came to a head at the Outer Banks a couple weeks ago, where I had an uncomfortable amount of time to think about the big picture, life, what I want, who I want to be. Geez, I thought I had just signed up for a relaxing beach vacation! In the mere three days I had back in Boston before this shakedown hike, I lived it up, had some fun, busted out some unpacked boxes, and didn’t worry so much about sticking to my strict routine. Plus a while ago a friend and I had bought tickets to a film premiere at Tribeca Film Festival in New York, simply because we wanted to do something fun together in New York. That ended up being the night before I’d fly down to Virginia for the hike, and wow was it fun. So from North Carolina, to Boston, to New York, then down to Virginia all in a span of five days.
Hence my “tired and wired” state of being arriving in Virginia. Tara picked me up at the airport and later said she noticed right away I seemed lighter than the past couple times we’d seen each other. It was true. We dropped her car at a shopping center parking lot near the Appalachian Trail, our final destination for the hike. Warren Doyle met us there and gave us a ride to our starting point at Rockfish Gap (thanks Warren!). We made one last stop at Sheetz to grab a few last minute items. On top of the snacks and wad of napkins I acquired for the trail, I grabbed an iced coffee for the road. My eyelids were a bit droopy and a jolt of caffeine seemed in order. I made a joking, nonchalant comment about how I’d not gotten much sleep the last few days, but meh, I’d had plenty of experience with sleep deprivation on this type of adventure and wasn’t too worried- haha! Yes, that was some major foreshadowing.
Tara and I said our goodbyes to Warren and practically skipped down the trail in a state of bliss. We were so excited to be there in our happy place. We love the AT. It was a gorgeous day (albeit a bit smoky from far off wildfires), the rhododendron and mountain laurel were in full bloom, and we were making good time, though we did pause often to take photos and take in the views anytime we came to a scenic overlook.
As we hiked into the night, we were treated to a blood red sunset followed by a blood red moonrise due to the smoky skies. The forest darkened, Tara busted out her headlamp, I whipped out my flashlight, and on we went. With fewer distractions we made good time in the night, checking in with each other to make sure the other was good with continuing on. Our evening ended with a grueling climb most of the way up the Priest, a mountain I remember well from my AT thru-hike for the insane amount of elevation loss (~3,000ft over two miles) in the northbound direction. Tara and I were heading southbound, so we had the great privilege of doing those two miles uphill.
Around 1-1:30am we were feeling pretty tuckered out and started looking for a flat-ish place to make camp. Around 2am we succeeded. Tara set up her poncho tarp (it’s exactly what it sounds like- a poncho that can also serve as a tarp, propped up with a hiking pole and the corners staked out). I had the exact same tarp with me (the Gatewood Cape), but hadn’t practiced setting it up beforehand. Not having the energy to bother I just laid out my foam pad, propped my head up with a clothes bag that also serves as a pillow, snuggled under my “quilt” (unzipped sleeping bag), and snoozed under the stars. Normally I would feel apprehensive about the lack of shelter but for whatever reason, maybe because I had the comfort of Tara being right there next to me in her tent, it was just fine.
We hadn’t planned to sleep much and had many miles yet to cover, so we had our alarms set for 4:30am. Maybe that sounds extreme, but we’d done this sort of thing before and by all accounts it was normal enough! Unfortunately, after tossing and turning for most of the two hours, I woke up to my alarm feeling like I had a lump in my throat. I took a swig of water and just the motion of swallowing was painful. And I felt plain awful. Just exhausted. This didn’t feel normal at all. I immediately concluded the smoky air had affected me somehow. My throat hurt, so I didn’t want to eat and aggravate it further. I started to feel panicked. I jumped to the worst possible conclusion, that I wouldn’t feel better, that I couldn’t eat, that the day would be awful, and I’d have to get off trail. I packed up my things very quickly, felt cold after putting away my sleeping bag, and in my anxious state felt like I needed to just start moving. But I couldn’t, because Tara still needed to finish packing up (which was fine!). Feeling overwhelmed and completely out of control over the situation, I started to cry. And poor Tara had to witness my meltdown. What a way to start the morning.
We took off a little after 5am and hiked for 30-40 minutes before the sun came up. Thankfully, my throat started to calm down, I clicked off my flashlight and put it away, and was able to eat some breakfast. It would all be okay.
This day was a little more focused. We stopped less often to take photos and put more emphasis on moving forward. Throughout the day my energy levels would swing from very low lows to temporary high highs. I could feel some blisters forming. I stopped and taped my feet to prevent the hot spots from getting worse, but started to walk more delicately since my feet hurt, and my pace slowed. Tara, while having some struggles the first day with adjusting the fit of her pack and getting accustomed to the weight on her shoulders, was having a much better second day. She had figured out a way to arrange her gear optimally and get her pack to sit better, and she also started to experiment with running more, opposed to only walking. I went with her a little bit when she ran, but feeling low on energy and worrying about my feet, went back to my steady walk.
As the day went on, I felt hit with such heavy fatigue. As mentioned, I had gotten little sleep in the nights leading up to this hike, and over-confidently thought I would be just fine. But I think it was really affecting me. My eyelids continued to feel heavy, and overall I was just really dragging. And then feeling so far behind Tara I felt upset about my own progress. The times that we reconvened, Tara pointed out that my pace was just fine, and she was right, every time I looked down at my watch I was moving well over 3mph, which for this kind of thing is just fine, so long as you’re efficient with any stops you have to make. Just because I wasn’t keeping up didn’t mean that I was doing poorly! Still, I got really down on myself, and shared these insecurities with Tara, which led to some deeper conversations about our upcoming FKT attempt on the Colorado Trail and how we would manage hiking as a team with our individual hiking styles. Tara picked up on how I was really in my head about a lot of this stuff, and was patient and honest as we talked through various scenarios and how we might work best together in the endeavor.
The highlight of the day was hiking along the ridge of Cole Mountain. It was a gorgeous, sunny day with a cool breeze. The trees and grassy meadows were swaying in the wind, the sun was warm on our skin, the wildflowers were in bloom, and it just felt like pure bliss. This is a bit blasphemous as I was out in the wilderness, but I received an unexpected phone call while up on the ridge, which I answered, that immediately lifted my mood and had me smiling and giggling, whereas not long before I had been sniffling and feeling sorry for myself.
Tara and I heard through the grapevine that someone had set up trail magic not too far ahead. Trail magic, in this case, meant that some kind strangers, aka trail angels, had set up a trailside cookout and were handing out food and beverages of all sorts to hikers out of the goodness of their hearts. Tara was very excited about this prospect; I was a bit more apprehensive. I felt this self-imposed pressure to keep moving, especially considering how much I felt like I was dragging. If I stopped, that meant our planned miles would take even longer to cover. Since Tara was moving faster, I suggested that she should get trail magic, but I’d prefer not to stop myself, knowing she wouldn’t have a problem catching up with me.
However, the closer I got to the trail magic, the more I started thinking about how nice an ice cold coke would taste, and maybe it could help me in my zombie-like state. Tara had already raced ahead to get to the trail magic. As I got closer I could see her convening with trail angels and hikers while resting on the grass and chowing down on something delicious. I wrapped up my (shamefully-in-the-wilderness) phone call, approached the little oasis, and temptation gave in. I asked Tara if she minded if I stopped and she said heck no. I intended to only have a cold can of coke (a dream realized!) and before I knew it I was being handed a freshly made breakfast quesadilla too.
After this point, it felt like the pressure was off a little. We were behind our intended mileage and pace, but this was a no-stakes hike and a learning experience at the end of the day. We decided we still wanted to get the most out of ourselves and see how far we could get, and maybe just give ourselves a cut off time for the following day, at which point we’d arrange for a trailside pick up and ride to a hotel before departing the next morning.
Unfortunately, I swung to a new low after our trail magic stop. I felt the sleepiest and worst I’d felt to that point. Although we had stopped and rested for trail magic, maybe just 30-60 minutes later I told Tara that I thought I needed to lay down for a bit. We made our way across a sunny meadow, and as soon as we got down into the trees and saw a flat spot, I laid out my mat and keeled over in exhaustion. To put this in perspective, not once during my 2,193 mile FKT attempt on the Appalachian Trail did I lay down on the trail midday.
Tara started a 15 minute timer on her watch and strolled off to take some photos at a nearby lookout while I slept. I couldn’t actually fall asleep, but it felt good to rest my eyes. Occasionally I’d hear footsteps of other hikers go by me. At one point a man called out, “You okay?” and I responded, “Yeah just taking a nap,” to which he replied, “Just making sure you’re not dead!”
Tara gently told me the fifteen minutes was up, so on we went. As the afternoon went on, I’d have fleeting moments where I felt okay, followed by crashes in energy, becoming more and more frequent. I tried eating, drinking, taking electrolytes, chugging water, listening to music, crying, talking, being silent, running some, walking some. Nothing was working. I needed to rest. I was reaching my breaking point. I told Tara that I think I might need to stop. But then immediately I would feel disappointed with myself and say, “Well maybe I can keep going a little longer.” So we’d go a little longer. Eventually it was Tara that made the call and said it might be in our best interest to stop- that Punchbowl Mountain Overlook, where the AT crosses the Blue Ridge Parkway, was just ahead, and we could see what we could do to get a ride from there. I agreed, and the decision was made. As soon as we got to a point on the trail that had cell phone reception, we tried calling Warren who had initially dropped us off, and thankfully he was available to come pick us up. We took our time hiking the last couple miles, as it would take Warren a bit to get there and there was no longer self-imposed pressure on time.
After reaching our pickup point, I once again threw down my foam pad and collapsed in exhaustion. I told Tara she deserved some sort of medal for putting up with me. She was so even-keeled and rolled with the punches all along the way. I feel sorely disappointed with myself in not taking my preparation for this hike more seriously, and thus ending our trek earlier than planned. Universally, we have a responsibility in making good decisions and being well-prepared anytime we venture out into the wilderness. It wasn’t Tara’s job to look after me; ultimately I am responsible for knowing when to say “when” on my personal limits. So, this was a good wakeup call and a reminder for myself to treat these big efforts with more respect, and to not be a hero or let pride get in the way of personal safety.
Warren came to our rescue and drove us to Daleville, then Tara and I got some much needed rest and parted ways in the morning. Then this whole past week I was hit upside the head with the nastiest cold I’d had in a long time, likely starting with that lump feeling in my throat I’d attributed to breathing in smoky air that second morning of the hike. Hence, the delay in sharing this recap. It didn’t occur to me on the trail that I might actually have gotten sick on top of being sleep-deprived (I tested negative for Covid, but whatever hit me, hit me hard). That would help explain why I felt such extreme levels of exhaustion, worse than what I had ever experienced even on previous multi-day FKT attempts. So, that’s the only thing that makes me feel a little better in hindsight (that how I was feeling, was in fact, not normal). In terms of my decision making and behavior on this hike, well, the best analogy I can come up with is, I was like that friend that had one too many drinks at a party, and Tara was like the friend holding back my hair while I puked in the toilet. I am not proud! But, if a scenario like this was going to happen, I’m glad it happened in practice and not during the real deal. I will certainly be treating my rest leading up to the Colorado Trail hike and general sense of gravity of the difficult thing we’re attempting much more seriously.
On that note, I have another prep hike for the CT coming up soon, this time solo, and a very unique (and hopefully less disastrous) kind of adventure that I’m excited to share more about in the next letter. ‘Til next time!
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