Double SCAR: Part 2

D-SCAR, night 1 (miles 41–74)

7:30 pm, mile 41.4: 

I left Newfound Gap (the single SCAR halfway point) and headed into my first night on trail. Being on trail at night poses so many different challenges than daytime. Not only do I need to be sharper mentally, but I also physically need to have more endurance. The temperature dip at night combined with the wet trail made it impossible conditions to take any kind of break whatsoever. No sitting, definitely no dirt naps, and no slowing down. Must keep moving. Mentally, it was harder to stay sharper because I was so sleepy, but critical so I didn’t miss a water stop or lose myself or any gear. Limited vision combined with gloves and warm weather gear adds challenge to the gear management and orientation/bearings. 

Mile 45, Ice Water Spring Shelter:

As I climbed out of the gap and headed up to the north side of the park, darkness slowly overtook lightness and I played the game of how-long-can-I-go-without-a-headlamp. I finally reached the ridge and it was so wet. I grabbed some water at Ice Water Spring Shelter, crouched down, chugged some freezing cold pristine spring water, dropped my pack and made some more soup mix as I layered up and got my headlamp out for the night. This would be my longest stretch between water stops (12.5 miles), so I filled up every vessel to the max. I saw some hikers as they retreated from watching the sunset at Charlie’s bunion (the famous lookout point) to the shelter. Little did they know the mission I was on. “Good night!”

Not long after, I saw two eyes light up in my headlamp. Was it water droplets reflecting off my headlamp? Or eyes? I kept getting closer and the two lights staring back at me were eyes of an animal. I wasn’t sure what animal and I was listening to music, so I wasn’t attuned to the sounds around me as much. Suddenly, I saw the eyes lift from “normal animal height (maybe hip-height?) to MUCH taller than me. My first bear sighting of the trip! I stopped and took out my headphones as I watched the bear move down the side of the mountain away from the trail. I clacked my poles together and made some unalparming noise. I watched the bear and it watched me as we both made our way. The bear’s eyes kept looking back at me as I kept shining my light on it as it descended away. I’ve seen plenty of bears, but this was my first bear sighting in the pitch black night. 

I became SO tired in the night, but couldn’t stop to rest because it was too cold and wet. The fear of having to do this a SECOND night crept in and seriously daunted me as the compounding effect of sleep deprivation was becoming grossly apparent. Once a seed of fear is planted, it becomes exaggerated under stressful conditions. I was exhausted and already felt like I was sleep walking, so the thought of a night two seemed impossible. Could I even get through night one? I was NOT feeling like myself and not moving like myself.

11:38 PM, mile 57, Tri-Corner Knob Shelter: 

Muscles hurt, so tired. Moving so slowly. No energy. Otherwise, everything is going “okay” objectively. Still no rain, but the trail is a lot wetter as it must have rained recently. The trees are blowing rain, which makes it cold. Lungs feel tired, breathing is labored and it’s so hard. I feel like I’m swimming in molasses. 

One foot in front of the other. Music. Breathe in. Breathe out. Be right here, right now.

~ 4:00 am, Mile 63: 

I essentially slept-walked right off the trail (thinking I was going around a downed tree) and ended up completely disoriented and physically entangled in brush. 

Where am I? I was just on trail a minute ago. Maybe this way. No! Worse. How can I get out? 

I stepped on cracking branches and post-holed my leg through scratchy branches into piles of leaves of unknown depth. I could not get sturdy footing to save my life. I was on a steep cliff-like mess of trees, slowly getting myself more and more buried in fallen tree avalanche debris. I was trapped. 

I felt like I was trying to untangle a house-sized ball of yarn and the more I tried to make progress and get to a space where I could stand on the ground, the more engulfed I became in the jungle gym of horror. I forgot entirely about eating and drinking. I panicked. The more panicked I became, the more impossible it became to use my rational mind to problem-solve. It honestly felt like a movie scene as I tried to crouch, crawl, and weave my way through the mess of pokey dead limbs in desperation. My headphone cord and pack would get caught, making every movement a puzzle I kept failing at. 

This can’t possibly be happening! I tried to backtrack, but I was so disoriented I don’t think I ever backtracked successfully and only dug myself into the abyss even more. I began accepting my situation and collapsed my poles so I could use both my hands. This was an all-fours situation.

Now I’ll never finish! I’m stuck here for eternity! I think I will die here. There is no way out. No one could even rescue me because it’s impossible to move in any direction. I was in a 3D maze of danger and I lost my wits. 

I finally caved and called Chap (who was nearby and “on call” to assist if absolutely necessary). I had told him he wouldn’t be hearing from me unless it was an emergency, because I knew I couldn’t be out there chatting away on the phone and maintain the focus needed to complete my mission. But after flailing around in the pitch dark with just a headlamp for 30 minutes, I knew I needed to throw in the towel. This was a good first attempt at Double SCAR, but it was over. Now I needed help.

Chap answered and tried to keep me calm and ask me questions that forced me to think and be present. “Have you looked at FarOut?” “No...” I was afraid it would make me confused because the GPS orientation was untrustworthy. However, I listened to his guidance and pulled out my phone and looked at the map. I tried turning my phone around to see which direction the trail was from my vantage point, but it felt futile. At least I could see I wasn’t too far off track. 

My sleep deprivation (and nutrition deficit at this point) made my reasoning skills significantly impaired. He told me to try to climb my way toward the trail. It was physically impossible though. I needed to go away from the trail, or back south (whichever way that was!) in order to free my body from being so trapped. THEN, maybe I would be able to make progress toward finding the trail. Our calls kept dropping. I kept trying, scrambling, crying, giving up, and then calling. “Chap! I need you to come rescue me! I am stuck and I can’t get out! This is over and I need you to come find me! PLEASE!” Did he understand how scared I was? Did he realize how trapped my body was? THIS was the emergency and I needed OUT. NOW!

He stayed calm and told me “the AT is always on the top, on the ridge.” Yes, I knew that about the Appalachian Trail — when in doubt, the trail is ALWAYS along the highest point. This section was no different and I knew that to be true. He also told me he was able to see my location from my Garmin InReach tracker and I wasn’t too far from the trail. He suggested I wait until daylight and try navigating once the sun came up. Daylight?! Are you kidding me?! That seemed like an absolute eternity! No! I have to get out of here NOW! Before daylight! Then, of course, my headlamp died. I had to figure out a way to take OFF my pack and get my second headlamp out in the dark with no light. 

Our call dropped one final time, and I concentrated on which way was up the mountain, but it was impossible to see beyond the branches that trapped my body, inches from my headlamp. The light illuminated my entrapment, making it impossible to gain any vantage point whatsoever.  

Inevitably, the first light began to illuminate the world. DAYLIGHT! I could begin to figure out which way was UP and that would be my compass to get back to the trail. Somehow, some way, I began to see. Up. Back, down, up. Repeat. And then all of a sudden, my foot was on the trail and I was standing! I didn’t know which way was north and which way was south, but I got out the phone again and re-oriented myself. I didn’t know if I was before or after the spot where I had gotten off the trail, but I knew which way to walk to get to Davenport Gap! I called Chap again and he told me I was only 10 miles away from Davenport gap. Hearing that made me realize I could indeed make it 10 more miles. It was DAYTIME AND I COULD SEE and MOVE!

I wasted almost two hours trapped in the avalanche debris. I tried to get my bearings again. Okay, I would call it quits at Davenport Gap (the turnaround spot at mile 74.

6:03 AM -- Shaking, scared. Regrouping, walking (not running). Crying and releasing the terror from my body. I don’t want to keep doing this. I hurt. This is not supposed to be so life threatening. I thought I had lost things from ,may pack, but didn’t consider stopping to check. I was on a mission to get to Davenport Gap and the rest didn’t matter. I kept my poles collapsed in my hands and figured I didn’t need them for the rest of the way to the gap.

6:50 AM — MORNING BLISS! I turned a switchback and saw the sun right in front of me! Was it possible to feel so much joy after such a near-death experience? I could actually SEE the sun! It was a glowing ball of red due to the “smoky” quality of the smoking mountains. It took my breath away and I felt one with the divine world of nature. It was so bright and beautiful and miraculous. I will never take sunlight for granted ever again. Thank you birds and sun!

I began to recalibrate. I charged my electronics halfway, starting with my phone and my Garmin InReach. I felt concerned that I wouldn’t have enough battery in my battery pack to charge everything, so I figured I would wait on charging my headlamps .

I know from experience that when I’m rattled in the woods it is essential to eat and drink and slow down. Nothing good comes from being rattled. I ate a bar, drank some water, and walked. I could have run as the trail was easy, downhill switchbacks in the gorgeous daylight, but I was too frazzled from the avalanche crisis. To day it took 2 hours out of my attempt would be misleading. The amount of energy and time it took to recover from it pushed me back immensely and likely caused my entire morning to lag in an effort to catch my breath from the scare.

My pace is so slow. I’m not sure I have enough food to get me all the way back. Maybe I’ll just eat it all and see how far it gets me. My knees hurt so much. The trail was so rocky, muddy, and technical and the flat sections were mud pits. 

The trail was beautiful. I savored it. I felt happy. The morning birds made me feel happy. The adrenaline from the spelunking avalanche adventure made me forget about being tired for some time as I marched on.

8:00 AM — I began to get so sleepy. I tried walking with my eyes closed for a few seconds to give myself a tiny break while my body walked. My body and mind felt disconnected as my legs and feet just knew what to do as I tried to fade away from reality to have a respite.  Angel of Mine by Monica came on my playlist and it soothed me down the mountain. I put it on repeat. 

9:10 AM — 3 miles left to Davenport Gap. Hoping to get there at 10:00 AM. My knees hurt so much! I couldn’t find any relief. I was moving and felt alive though. My plan was to get to the turnaround spot and then climb up 1 mile after turning around to go to the shelter to take a nap. 

However, the last 1.5 miles downhill (which should have been so easy!) crushed me. I was so tired. Was I asleep or awake? I couldn’t think! Now that the floodgate had been opened with calling Chap, I called him again. He encouraged me to not make any decisions until I took a nap. He also told me I could take a nap now, or when I got to Davenport and wouldn’t need to wait until the shelter. I told him I would call him after my nap.

10:36 AM, 74 miles, Davenport Gap:

I wanted to quit at Davenport Gap, as my mental state was entirely derailed.

I, instead, laid down to take a 20 minute nap. It ended up only being about 12 minutes before I woke up. I could at least make it back to Newfound Gap with the food and battery I had. I knew I was not finished and had more in the tank. But I didn’t believe I could compensate for the lost time and morale from the avalanche mess to complete all of D-SCAR. I told myself I could go 100 miles and that would be an incredible feat that I would be proud of.  I mustered all of my strength to pick myself up off the ground and turned around.