According
to the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club, serious hikers can expect
to complete the 71-mile long Massanutten Trail in about a week.
We aimed to do it in one go.
6:10 am
Rendezvous at Signal Knob parking area.
Chris reiterates his contention that this endeavor is not going
to be fun, except for he and Anstr— they'll be watching
as we digress from smiling runners to slobbering fools, writhing
in pain.
Despite plans to run together, the group breaks apart almost
as soon as we begin. The trail is rugged and the going is slow
as we pick our way along the Eastern Ridge of Massanutten Mountain.
8:50 am
We refuel at Little Crease Shelter. The
next mile is uphill and a slow slog, but the effort brings its
rewards. We rise above the treeline and have a spectacular view
down upon the South Fork of the Shenandoah River. It's
quite a sight: brilliant blue oxbows surrounded by a patchwork
of fields.
Gary gives us the first of several biology lessons after picking
up a turtle I've almost trod upon. Further along, he explains
the natural history of the doodle bug, or Ant Lion, after John
points out a series of tiny holes dug into a sandy patch on
the trail.
11:00 am
Scott and I slowly pull away from the
others as the day starts to heat up. We both run out of water
on the blazing approach to Kennedy Peak and resort to dousing
our heads and necks with stream water in an attempt to keep
our core temperatures down.
Just before Edith Gap, we meet up with Chris who has decided
to run a small part of the trail. As we start down the trail
toward the first full-blown aid point, Camp Roosevelt (25 miles
into the run), Chris falls and injures his wrist.
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When we finally arrive at the campground, Chris is tended to
while Scott and I change socks, scarf down sandwiches, and fill
our bottles with the help of our crews. After
learning of others who have dropped out of the run, Scott warns
me of the misery ahead: the steep climb up Waterfall Mountain,
the longer, almost endless grind up Short Mountain, the relentless
stretches of rocks. He tells no lies: it is hard going the entire
way and it gets harder as the day gives way to the night.
8:30 pm
As darkness comes, I am on my own and
my feet are becoming a problem: I have a few blisters, but even
worse, they are starting to bruise. Reaching the access point
at Woodstock Tower (57 miles), I make a tough decision. Like
most ultra types, I generally subscribe to the "finish
at all costs" theory, but I remind myself that this is
a training run for an upcoming race. Knowing I'm certain to
be subjected to much after-the-fact ribbing, I decide to call
it a day.
Others keep on going, and break the previous course record.
Chris got more than he bargained for — a broken record
and a broken wrist — but the "fun run" met his
original goals.
"I wish you could have been there as people finished,"
he said the next day over breakfast. "Everyone's attitude
changed over that last stretch down the mountain and they were
totally miserable. Except David and Bethany. They refused to
suffer. Maybe next time…" |
