“Difficult things take a long time. Impossible things take a little longer.” – Unknown Source
Being a little over dramatic here, a couple weekends ago I finally was able to knock off a running project I’ve been itching to do for a long time. So long in fact I had to go back (on InstaGram) to find out how long. It seems I conceived of this plan on or before New Year’s Eve 2020. I certainly had no plans for it to take this long to accomplish the project but much like a lotta things in life, things don’t always go the way you think they will.
So the project was to run from the Zealand trailhead, at the end of Zealand road, in Bethlehem, 16 or so miles over to the Wilderness trailhead just off the Kanc in Lincoln. The drive from there is double the running distance, so that’s one of the stumbling blocks of doing the run; finding someone willing to make the drive and wait for you to finish. Turns out there were plenty more.
Along the way there were plenty of weekends that while looking agreeable over the winter got jammed up with other activities that come your way as winter turns to spring and then summer, closing windows of opportunity that looked open before. Good opportunities came and went. However there were other factors that have played a role in me not completing this project until this past weekend.
First one was a few years ago when my wife and I planned a fall weekend at Sugarloaf 1 campground where I’d do the run and Gretch would meet me on the other side, with a side trip to the local shops in Lincoln. Getting ready to light the fire for the evening as the sun went down, a quick trip to my packed bag to retrieve my headlamp had me recognize that my bag must have remained on my bed, running stuff and all, when I packed the car. While we had a great weekend camping, there was no running over the two days.
And then since, it seems I’ve been bunged up enough that undertaking a 16 mile run might be about ten miles too long. Since I pulled the plug in October to receive physical therapy and the five months of retraining and recovery, I hadn’t put together a solid training block or anything that might be called a long run in over 8 months. It’s only been in the last month the problems with the knee had me seek therapy, along with the complimentary aches and pains of legs looking to protect a bum knee, that I’ve had the consistency to give me hope I could complete the run, even if it meant some walking. We had a camping trip in the area on the schedule and with time running out on completing “projects” like these, I committed.
The project came together because over the last 25 years I’ve come to run more than half the intended route, running both five miles from the Zealand end and five miles in from the Wilderness end. We have camped in the Zealand area at the Sugarloaf campgrounds for a while, one of the few National Forest campgrounds you can reserve. With the campground right down from the trailhead, along with a fantastic 2.7 mile hike into Zealand Falls and Zealand Falls hut, we’d often have groups hiking and groups running in, often electing to go a little farther with the running crew.
From the Wilderness end, I had spent a lot of time over the years delivering strawberries to Conway, NH, often opting for the lesser traffic going over the Kanc. On the return trip, I’d park the van at the Wilderness trailhead, hop out and either run the three miles into Franconia Falls, or another two miles into the Bondcliff trail.
Now both of these trails follow the old logging railroads, and while hardly flat, they don’t see the same elevation changes as most of the other hiking in the Whites. Figuring I had seen ten of the sixteen miles the project covered, I felt pretty confident the run should be fairly flat and fairly straight forward. As it turns out, it wasn’t.
On a beautiful Friday, with a 10 am start, myself and six other brave souls headed out from Zealand destined for Franconia Falls 13 miles down trail where we would meet up with the rest of the group for some jumping in the falls before finishing the last three miles out. I was certainly the weak link, everyone else without the recent injury history of me and in much better shape. While I didn’t wave off companionship, I voiced my opinion that everyone should run the pace which makes most sense to them. This meant I was alone from early in the run.
I first made contact back with the group about 4+ miles in, as they soaked in the cool exposure of Whitewall and I just kept chugging along, enjoying the solitude and my own thoughts. The temperature was coming up, but I had my running vest and two 500ml soft flasks to keep me hydrated. A liter wasn’t going to be enough but our course had enough water crossings I could just refill as I go. I had figured three hours or less to Franconia Falls and then three miles from there.
Less than a mile later we came to Thoreau Falls meaning an opportunity to catch up to the group, refill bottles and also the end of the trails I had run. I was feeling pretty good, knee was fine and the rest of the legs felt good so far. The next six miles would be new to me but the last two had been pretty flat due to the old rail bed so I anticipated the next five should be smooth sailing. It turns out, I anticipated wrong.
During this next section I realized not only had I not been on this section of trail, running or otherwise, I had never talked to anyone else that had either. As we strode over the falls and descended a gnarly goat path beside the falls, I got a strange feeling in my gut meaning the next five miles might be a bit more than I was hoping for. As I navigated the roots and rocks, careful to not turn an ankle here, deep in the Pemigewassett Wilderness, I hoped things would flatten out once we reached the river level.
Turns out that did not happen. While there were places we crossed over and followed the railbed, it was few and far between. Additionally there were places where the railroad ties were still intact, making running all that more difficult. But the big momentum and psyche killer was the amount of downed trees. Just as you’d get into a flow there would be a 12 inch caliber tree lying 10 inches above the trail surface, necessitating either a stop and step over or an awkward hurdle. What started as hurdling quickly became a careful step over in order to preserve my now cramping body.
Not to mention getting lost. We had been following along the trails careful to evaluate the various trail junctions, looking to link Zealand to Ethan Pond to Thoreau Falls, to Wilderness and eventually the parking lot. However the further you got into the woods, the less frequent any signage was because the trail junctions were less frequent. Now long left in the dust, I came across a part of the trail where there was a large blowdown blocking the trail with some faint footsteps going off to the right. I circumvented the blow down and continued for about half a mile when as I moved further away from the river I felt I should be crossing and following and decided to turn around to check. So far every trail junction had a sign post at each trail junction, so I went back to see if there was one buried in the blow down. Getting back there and not seeing one, I turned back, now an extra mile added onto my route.
Soon after this I came back upon railroad ties and my running came to an end. Just before this I caught a toe, went down hard, launching my soft flasks out of my vest like torpedoes trained on an enemy ship. Trying to roll over onto my side to get up, about five muscles I didn’t even know I had sprang to life, each firing receptors activating dehydrated muscles and a wave of cramping. It was walking from here.
I knew enough about the route to know there was another trail on the side of the river I was on and if I kept on it I should come out to Franconia Falls campground, on the east side of the Eastern branch of the Pemi. I continued on hoping that was where I was. A short time later I came to a trail junction indicating I was on the East Side trail and I felt pretty confident I’d end up where I thought I would. I wasn’t sure where my companions were and only hoped they continued on without waiting for me as I might not even be on the same trail at this point.
Forty minutes later, and now 4 hours and 15 minutes into the run I reached Franconia Falls campground. Franconia Falls campground is on the opposite side of the Pemigewassett for a reason. Prior to its current location, the camp had been across the river however that just meant an over abundance of people hanging out at the campground and the falls, ruining the ambiance of the natural water hole. Moving it across the river helped dampen that, with a river crossing lessening the volume of people at both sites. Carefully picking my way across the rocks on my cramping legs, I pulled into Franconia Falls just under five hours after I started. Too tired and fearful of cramping to do any of the jumps, I waded into a shallow section and soaked, while others played, with my shoes intact.
After about a half hour at the falls, we all headed back, some running and some walking. My feet had been hurting for some time, so I elected to walk out, leading the first group just looking to have this thing in the books. And while I didn’t do the project exactly as anticipated, missing the Wilderness trail back at the blow down, not only had I done enough of it, I did a bit extra and that extra was more difficult than if we had gone on the Wilderness trail.
And yeah, the other group made the same mistake I did, but with fancier watches they could see the map and knew they were on the parallel trail while I had to guess. As it turns out they waited about half an hour, leaving a river cross just before l was likely getting there, arriving to the Falls less than ten minutes in front of me. Had I not turned around I would have easily caught them there and we would have rolled in together.
The crowded car ride back, while difficult to fit in the back seat of a Toyota Tacoma without cramping, once finished, with a river dousing to clean up, I really didn’t feel that bad considering. This was easily the longest I had been on feet, both the amount of running I did as well as the walking, in a long time. Total moving mileage ended up being about 18 and a half, with 11 of that being running and half of that being bumpy and technical. While I wouldn’t call it fun, it was great to be able to get back out into it, well off the beaten path and explore. Explore the surroundings, explore the Pemi Wilderness, down trails apparently no one goes, and explore what makes me happy.
Even if parts of it were miserable. Love comes in many forms.
I’ll see you out there.
