SCAR 2020 - We were on track until we weren't!

Introduction

At around 11:55 PM on Thursday, July 30th, I found myself on the side of a desolate road, somewhere in North Carolina heading straight up a mountain on a warm humid night, the moon, although not full, was shining bright in the sky.  The objective was to reach Fontana Dam within 24 hours, although I was really hoping that we could get there in closer to 20 hours.  This was my first attempt at running the SCAR, visiting the Appalachian Trail and/or The Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

However, as is such with many great plans, mine did not go well.  By the time I finished; 2 sunrises and nearly 32 hours later all I can say as an introduction is that you haven't truly lived until you've stayed up for 50 hours (there were two 1 hour naps) and shared a space blanket with a half naked man you barely know who hasn't even considered brushing his teeth in 2 days and may or may not have peed on himself while running to try and stay warm.  I think besides this statement, the rest of this story is nothing more than minor details; however, they may at least illuminate what needs to transpire to allow for such a situation to occur.

The Reason

In an attempt to prepare myself thoroughly for the MOAB 240, I decided to solicit help with a preparation run with the primary goals of testing sleep deprivation, food choices, and gear.

I had considered running the entire Silver Comet trail, but could not garner interest from others; however, I was offered two other ideas of routes that would come with both assistance and running companions.  The two options were to run either "The Pinhoti 100" in reverse or to run what is called the "Smokies Challenge Adventure Run" or SCAR.  We elected to tackle the SCAR, I am still not sure when and how this decision was finalized looking back.

Course Statistics 

The SCAR is basically a 70+ mile trek on the Appalachian Trail from Davenport Gap to Fontana Dam.  The elevation gain is around 18,000 ft with equal loss, or a total change of 36,000 ft.

The current FKT records on this section of the Appalachian Trail hover between 15 to 20 hours.  I think that most would consider a good run to be under 24 hours. 

GEAR & Food

Nutrition was basically an average of 200-300 calories of solid foods and water every hour.  I used Honey Stinger waffles as my sugar source, everything else was real solid foods, such as bean burritos and hamburgers.   I started out with my Black Diamond Carbon Z poles and never stored them, they were in my hands from start to finish, with the exception of a few miles at the end when I lent one to my running partner as he was having knee problems.  I also wore a Salomon ADV Skin 12L Hydration Vest, but only used the front two 500 ml soft flasks, one having a straw extension.  I wore my Black Diamond headlamp (3 AAA) standard device, I don't know the model.  I also added a Garmin in Reach Explorer+, Handheld Satellite Communicator with Topo Maps and GPS Navigation.  This final addition was something I would highly recommend, it was a huge help in many ways, and allows anyone wanting to keep an eye out for you the ability to do so.  

The Adventure    

Since we started at midnight, the first 6.5 hours were in the dark.  This was a very isolating section and was nothing but a solid continual climb of around 3000 ft over the first five miles.  Other than seeing a mouse, looking for springs to replenish our flasks, and taking note that Davenport Gap Shelter, the only shelter within miles, was closed due to aggressive bears; these miles were nothing more than punching the clock.  It was move, drink, and eat until day light.  We also passed and filled up our flask at Cosby Knob Shelter (Mile 8).  Something else that should be mentioned is that as we started to get a little higher in elevation, our sweating stopped; however, the fog moved in and our vision was reduced to just about 3 feet.  We endured this nuisance until daylight.  Also, due to the humidity, low clouds and prior rain event, our feet were soaked from the start of this adventure until the end, and soaked may not be a strong enough word.

After leaving Cosby Knob Shelter we began our next 2000 ft climb over the next 8 miles to Mt. Guyot; at 6,621 feet in elevation, Guyot is the fourth-highest summit in the eastern U.S., and the second-highest in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.  We were still hitting our time targets and made it up and over before 5 AM.  

Daylight finally arrived around Pecks Corner Shelter at mile 21.  We continued without much fanfare until our first and only rendezvous with our faithful crew captain at Newfound Gap at mile 31 around 10am, dead on schedule.  As an aside, we did not see a single soul until we were within 4 miles of Newfound Gap. This would be the only time during this trek that we would have the option of adding or subtracting items from our packs, change shirts, etc.  The temperatures were cool, high 60s to low 70s with overcast skies.  I decided to eat a bacon cheese burger and carbonated drink, then for some reason removed the bear spray, my jacket, and bladder from my pack.  However, I did change shirts, leave inside my pack my gloves, arm sleeves, and emergency blanket, something I have never used in my entire life and rarely carry.  Actually, the only reason I was carrying it was because it is a required item for MOAB.  I also packed 1500 calories, but then because of the advice of the crew captain, I added another 600 calories before heading out.  These decisions will come into play later in this report.  

We spent about 30 minutes at Newfound Gap before moving on towards Clingmans Dome which is a mountain in the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee and North Carolina, in the southeastern United States. At an elevation of 6,643 feet, it is the highest mountain in the Smokies, the highest point in the state of Tennessee, and the highest point along the 2,192-mile Appalachian Trail. It is also the third highest point in mainland Eastern North America, after the nearby Mount Mitchell and Mount Craig.

This section of the trip climbs around 1600 ft over 9 miles.  There is an observation tower at the top.  This section of the trail is mostly rocky and consists of stairs that are both too long and with drops or climbs too high.  I would call this section a stair master for giants.  Again, we arrived around 1 PM, just as was planned, nothing exciting.  People can basically drive to Clingmans Dome, so here again it's a spot with plenty of people around, but after you leave this spot, it's only you and a few dozen hikers.

After leaving Clingmans Dome, we continued on towards Derrick Knob.  We were looking forward to this section as it was 10 miles of mostly downhill running, losing ~1800 ft of elevation.  We arrived at Double Springs shelter first (2.5 miles) and filtered water, then moved along towards Siler's Bald Shelter, roughly 44 miles in.  We were within 30 miles of finishing this thing and feeling good.  However, this was the spot where we first caught wind of a storm front moving in and noticed the shelters were starting to fill up with intelligent and prudent hikers.  It was also the first time we heard rumbling from the sky.  It was around 2:30 PM on Friday and we were still on schedule for a 23 hour, 11 PM finish.  The sun had started to come out and the air temperature was now around 83 degrees.

We left Siler's Bald Shelter then made our way past Derrick Knob shelter at approximately mile 50. By the time we were a mile out from Derrick Knob shelter, the intensity of the thunder made it clear we were moving towards and going to get hit with a pretty rough thunder storm.  At this point, we were asked to lie to the sister of a hiker as they were approaching Derrick, presumably because he was trying to encourage her as to their location in relation to a shelter.  I obliged, knowing the mind is a pretty powerful tool, but only when motivated, otherwise it's a tremendous stumbling block.  Somehow in this short exchange we learned that she, like my sister was a Shorter Hawk, small world.  I hope she made it in dry because once it started raining it didn't stop for nearly 7 hours.  

Leaving Derrick Knob it's a climb of about 1000 ft over 4.5 miles to, of all places, Thunderhead Mountain.  However, before we could get to Thunderhead, we were hit with the first violent thunderstorm around Beechnut Gap.  We mustered through this storm, just moving between lighting strikes and trying to gauge thin versus thick canopy.  Also, I had my trusty lighting rods in my hand the entire time.  After about an hour of dealing with this, the sky broke open.  We were soaked and the trail was now nothing but a river filled with a multitude of waterfalls, but we had made it through the storm, or so we thought.  Just as we approached the section from Thunderhead Mountain through Rocky Top a new and more violent thunderstorm started up.  This section of the trail is an open high altitude pasture with trench-like trails where your feet become invisible.  Needless to say, these 1.5 miles were precarious because we were fully exposed and trying to run as fast as possible without sight of our feet.  I think this might have been the first time I did a full somersault with trekking poles, but one toe grab while running though an 18 inch deep trench that might be 12 inches wide with thick grass covering everything while assuming you are going to probably die from a lighting strike will bring out the gymnast in a person.  Somehow, I managed the flip more or less unscathed.  

After finding the canopy again, we hunkered down for a moment in a group of rhododendrons.  At this point, my partner put a soaked jacket on and he asked how I felt.  I felt like I looked, but nothing out of the ordinary; soaked, cold and miserable.  He was apparently shivering and worried about the onset of hypothermia.  Looking back at my Garmin data, the air temperature had dropped 20 degrees in 30 minutes, down to nearly 60 degrees.  I pulled out my gloves and arm sleeves, all of which might as well have been pulled from a lake.  This whole episode probably took less than 10 minutes, then we were back on the trail heading toward Spence Field Shelter (mile 56).  We took the excursion down Eagle Creek trail to the Spence Field Shelter and found it empty, I was pretty shocked.  Here again, the conversation about body temperature and hypothermia resumed.  At this time, my partner decided that we should fashion our space blankets into a form of thermal underwear.  He wrapped his around his torso between his outer layer and his jacket.  I didn't have anything on my upper torso other than my short sleeve Nike DriFit shirt, so I was forced to turn mine into something of a new-age yoga; shiny and with plenty of auditory stimulation as we moved; I think I still hear the sound it made over the next 15 miles as I write this report 3 days later.  We left Spence Field heading 3 miles down hill towards the Russell Field Shelter at dusk, it was still pouring.

I don't remember much about the 3 miles between Spence and Russell, but as we approached Russell we were greeted with a shelter full of people cheering us in, it was surreal.  Apparently they were a bunch of strangers happy to be dry and I think slightly inebriated.  After we stopped under the covered space we looked up into the sleeping quarters, now we could see the entire party.  I am not sure what they made of us at first; I imagine we looked like two soaked drunkards out of an 80s music video.  Once the commotion ceased, they started making space, assuming we were staying.  I think my partner might have been relieved once they announced those intentions on our behalf; however, I told them thanks for the hospitality, but that we were moving on to Fontana Dam, I honestly didn't know to what extent my partner was struggling with his core body temperature.  There was some more shuffling, questions, comments and verification that between my poles and Mylar outfit I was destined to get struck by lighting.  During these exchanges I kept asking about aid stations and was reminded at least twice that we were moving between shelters, not aid stations.  After listening to myself and my partner try to hold a conversation for less than 5 minutes I realized that not only were we dealing with being cold and wet, we were suffering mentally; it had been nearly 20 hours since we started.  Eventually they shrugged their shoulders, offered up electrolyte powder, showed us where the spring was and wished us well.  We topped off our bottles and left towards Mollies Ridge Shelter.  This section was about 2.5 miles and included a pretty steep ascent of around 800 feet.  We arrived at around 10:30 PM, now 22.5 hours into our adventure.  

When we made it into the Mollies Ridge Shelter my partner finally made me aware of his struggles and fear that he was becoming hypothermic.  He couldn't stop shivering, teeth chattering, the whole bit.  We were already suffering from lack of mental acuity, speech, etc.  He finally told me that he thought we needed to stop and try to get warm.  I actually didn't feel the need, but after attempting to text a message to our crew, I realized that I wasn't doing much better than my partner.  I basically had 600 calories left and decided to consume the majority of them in order to produce my own heat.  I hardly could hold the Garmin device because of how bad I was shaking and I couldn't muster the will to stand in the rain in order to wait for the confirmation that our crew received the satellite message notifying him we were bedding down for an undetermined period of time.  Somehow we fumbled around for at least an hour before we both removed most of our clothing, minus our shorts.  The Garmin message still had not been confirmed sent, but finally I decided to lay the device at my feet and laid down, it was approaching midnight.  The both of us ended up in the bottom corner of Mollies Shelter half naked and shivering on the wooden floor under two very puny space blankets.  To make things worse, we weren't alone, so whoever was on the top platform probably didn't get much sleep between midnight until 2:30 AM when we decided to start back up.  The sound of two people attempting to get warm under Mylar blankets on a hardwood floor with a breeze blowing is pretty loud, and I assume very annoying to anyone around.  I went out pretty quick, but at about 1 AM I was awoken, by both my running partner’s violent shaking and also by him asking for my assistance in trying to find a way to increase his core body temperature.  I kept eyeballing the hearth, but knew it was not a real option.  I consider myself a stoic; but regardless if that's true or not, I know without a doubt I am not touchy-feely.  However, I realized that he was in trouble and there was only one option.  Once I accepted my fate, I gave a very direct, specific set of directions as to how this was going to go down, but mostly that we would be sharing body heat touching backs.  I am sure that spooning would have been much more effective, but I have my limits.  We got settled again, and again, I went out fairly quickly.  Then at about 2:30 AM the Garmin device chimed alerting me to the fact that the message we had sent to our crew 2.5 hours earlier went through.  I was ready to move, although I assumed we would be there until dawn; however, around that time my partner asked what time it was and that he thought we should move on.  He was still shaking, but much less severely and his speech was clear and intentional.  The next hour was probably my least favorite, starting with the reapplication of our wet clothing.  I wrung out the water before I put my clothing back on, but they were no less soaked and still cold.  We got up and set off realizing that we had never seen this site in the daylight or even in less than a downpour.  The rain had at least mostly stopped, but now, just as in the beginning, we were inundated with fog.  We left out on the correct trail, but there were no blazes for what felt like an eternity, so we turned back to the shelter.  Once we got back to the shelter, we checked the Garmin and verified that we were on the correct trail, turned around and headed back towards Birch Spring Camp, about 5 miles away.  About that time we started receiving messages from both our crew and families.  Reading these messages now, it is clear that mentally we still had a ways to go as most were cryptic and/or almost nonsensical, but at least everyone knew we were back up and moving.  We were finally moving south on the correct trail at about 3:30 AM, now 27.5 hours into our ordeal.  As we set off I noticed that my partner was limping, I assumed that it was from cramping in his calves; however, it was instead from knee pain.  I knew that with this issue, combined with my quadriceps being toast and the fact that the rest of the trip would be predominately downhill meant it was going to be a tough 10 miles to the finish; it actually ended up taking over 4 hours even though it felt like we were moving pretty well.  

By now the normal hallucinations were in full swing, seeing all sorts of animals that were nothing more than various old moss covered logs.  We had seen a wild hog, turkey, mouse, squirrel, and heard a bear take off over a ridge as we approached, either it was a bear or the felling of a redwood.  Our crew had managed to take a photo of a nice size rattlesnake as well.  I have never had auditory hallucinations before, but this run produced those as well in the form of familiar voices saying short indiscernible phrases.

Coming into Birch Spring Gap campground we could see a small illuminated tent, ghostly as it looked from a distance, it was nothing but encouraging as we knew we were about to check off another box as we progressed closer to the end of our adventure.  Thankfully the tent was lit up as it had been set up with the center guide wire traversing directly across the trail.  The campsite looked like someone went into a convenient store and set off a small explosive, with cans, boxes and bottles strewn in every direction.  I hadn't a clue what to make of it, but apparently they weren't worried about the bears as much as I was.  I mentioned this to my partner and he said he figured that raccoons might have got into their trash, but whatever happened, it was a mess.

At some point leading into Shuckstack Tower we had our last two conversations of the trip.  The first was about the limping and the realization that it was actually from knee pain, not cramping.  I gave up one of my poles because I knew these last 4 miles would drop nearly 2000 feet and going down on either bad knees or burnt out quads would be painful.  The other conversation was that I had admitted considering not stopping and just peeing on myself, probably at least twice.  My partner asked if I had noticed him doing that, I of course hadn't, but he said in an effort to help get warm he had done this at least 6 times.  After this revelation, the hunger that had been plaguing me for the last couple of hours turned into nausea, not severe, but there, this was a first for me.  I decided I needed to move as fast as possible to try and head off this issue and finally separated going from Shuckstack Tower to Fontana Dam.  Although extremely sore and tight, I wasn't injured and was moving a little faster so I took off all the while hoping to see our crew somewhere before the end.  I was certain that I did see him at 2 miles out, but upon closer inspection he was found to be nothing more than the combination of 2 logs; however, about a mile later I finally did see him and he offered assistance in the form of trail mix.  I declined as I was only interested in a convenient store bacon, egg and cheese biscuit I had waiting in my cooler from 2 days prior.  I gave him my other pole to take to my partner and he trotted up the trail.  I jogged down the remainder of the trail to find a chair sat out and my cold biscuit waiting to be consumed.  I ate that thing with such joy that I didn't even bother with the fact that half of it was in my lap as it crumbled into pieces as I ate it.  The rest of the team arrived just a few minutes later, everyone looking relatively content.  I was happy to see this as I had assumed someone would have been upset with the delay, as we were at least 8 hours late.

Synopsis

In the end we were out there for about 32 hours, sleeping 1.5 hours of that time.  We added about 3 to 4 miles retrieving water from the springs, going off trail to various shelters, getting slightly lost and backtracking.  We burned and consumed nearly 10,000 calories and drank at least 10 to 15 liters of water, almost all of which was obtained and filtered from the various springs along the route.