Every winter solstice since 2001, Matt and his parents host ALTAR, the Art Loeb Trail Adventure Run. I've tagged along to this event since 2007, which was also the year they started renting the lodge at the boy scout camp (the Art Loeb Trail's northern terminus). The challenge to run a most difficult trail on the shortest day of the year and end next to a cozy fire draws more and more people every year. Below, Matt addresses the biggest group of runners yet.
I was probably closest to participating in 2007 when I was coming off of my AT thru-hike. "Think of it this way: ALTAR is only two miles longer than your longest day on the AT," Matt had reasoned. (ALTAR is 30 miles.) I opted out.
But after so many years of being around these runners, I wanted to experience what they experienced. So Vanessa and I came up with a plan to hike the Art Loeb Trail south over two days as her birthday present. Rain was in the forecast, but we proceeded anyway.
Here I am the night before -- dry, enjoying a slice of pumpkin pie with freshly whipped cream on top (my special present from Mom). I had accidentally grabbed the wrong Pisgah map, but Mo was our first trail angel by having the right one.
The next morning we climbed up towards Cold Mountain. The warm weather down below fooled us and many runners. By the time we reached the Narrows, the temperature had dropped and it had started raining and gusting. We bumped into Adam in a trash bag before Shining Rock Gap and marveled at how fast he was. Other runners were not far behind him. We saw Matt and Uwharrie on the balds. He fumbled to snap this photo with numb fingers.
My weakest link was that orange rain jacket that was no longer waterproof. I was soaked by Ivestor Gap. Vanessa and I made the decision to bypass Tennent and Black Balsam, but the dirt roadbed was muddy and waterlogged and much longer than I remembered. (I noticed some big footprints going the opposite way… Carl?) By then my core was cold. At the parking lot, I stripped and put on a damp vest and Vanessa's extra trash bag. After that, it took forever to get to the empty Blue Ridge Parkway and then to Deep Gap, but we made it at dark. It took me awhile to find the water source because I couldn't hear it above the rain or see it.
When I returned with water and ready for a hot mug of tea, Vanessa broke the news that her canister was out of fuel! We ate cold Indian for supper, but we were dry in the shelter and off our feet. I think both of us fell asleep before seven that night, but I didn't really warm up until around ten.
The next morning: Raining harder. Geordie, Vanessa's dog, was the biggest trooper. He was tiny and shivering, but he was always at my heels and uncomplaining. I triumphantly held him up on Pilot Mountain.
My resolve broke as we descended into Gloucester Gap. I think it was seeing the taillights of a vehicle rumble by. (Vanessa thought I was going to sprint downhill after it.) A vehicle meant a possible hitch, a way out. Even better, I had a cell phone signal, although noone actually answered. Vanessa, Geordie, and I started walking the gravel road towards the wildlife center where there was at least shelter.
A battered car from Balsam Grove pulled up not too long after. I know I looked inside eagerly, but I also knew how wet we were and couldn't bring myself to ask. Luckily, they offered, throwing wrapped gifts into the trunk to clear out the back seat. The trail angels drove us to our cars at the Davidson River with a "Merry Christmas" and a little tut-tutting to check the weather next time. I was so grateful and embarrassed: Their back seat looked like a wet sponge after we climbed out, and we noticed our drip had wrinkled the wrapping paper on the grandkids' presents.
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