Alan Gowan’s 2009 report
Massannuten Mountain stretches almost 70 miles from near Front Royal Virginia in the north to its southern terminus near Harrisonburg, Virginia. For most of its length the mountain is divided into two distinct parallel ridges. At some places such as the Fort Valley the ridges are miles apart and yet in other areas they are quite close leaving a very steep sided and narrow gap between the high ridges. At some points the parallel ridges come together making creating a single ridgeline. This happens most noticeably at New Market Gap where US 211 crosses over the mountain. New Market Gap is also very near the southern most point of the Massannuten Mountain Trails 100 mile race.
I have accumulated many hours and hundreds of miles running the northern section of Massannuten Mountain above New market Gap, but have only ventured into the southern Massanuttens once when Pam and I ran the Catherine’s Fat Ass 50K run in 2007. What follows is my account of the second time I ventured into the southern Massanuttens.
SMUT. Any race with a name like this just has to be good doesn’t it? Actually SMUT stands for the Southern Massannuten Ultra Trail Run. When this appeared on the Virginia Happy Trails calendar and I checked the details I knew this was something I really wanted to do. It didn’t fit into my schedule at all. My running schedule was quite full and there was no room for anything else, especially a tough 50 miler. This fall and early winter was shaping up to be one of my busiest ever. Nonetheless, SMUT looked like something I just shouldn’t miss. I’ll find a way.
This inaugural running of SMUT was to be a sort of shake-out run to see how the course would work, how runners would react to the event, how difficult it would actually be, and to find out if there were any logistical problems. If everything went according to plan then this event might become a regular on the VHTRC calendar. If it didn’t work out as envisioned, then this first running might also be the last.
The course was advertised on the web site as Difficult. In italics. By the time race day arrived it had been pretty well established that the total length was just about 54 miles and the elevation gain was accurately figured to be 11,000 feet. The entry fee was a gallon of water and something to contribute for the aid stations, and the field was limited to 42. At my urging Beth signed up and Pam got on board as an aid station volunteer. Beth and I didn’t modify our training at all to accommodate this 54 miler which was now stuck right in the middle of our plans and in fact went ahead and did an eight and a half hour run on the extreme Tuscarora Trail just one week before SMUT. Somehow I knew that this first running of SMUT was going to be special and I didn’t want to miss out on this unique opportunity. I knew it would be really hard but somehow I also knew I would have fun and it would be a very special experience that I just didn’t want to miss out on. I planned to run this thing and find joy in the experience.
Rain and cold. It had been raining for three days and Friday night it rained straight through the night. Beth stayed at our house Friday night and race day morning we were all up at 3:00 and in the car by 3:50. Rain. It was 42°F. The forecast for the race was for only a 20% chance of rain until afternoon when the chance increased to 60% for snow and rain, with highs in the low forties cooling to the low thirties on Saturday night. By the time we got to Winchester we’d driven out of the rain and our spirits picked up with the knowledge that at least we’d only have to deal with the cool temperatures and not the rain for at least a little while.
We arrived early and dozed in the car as others arrived. The start/finish is nothing more than a parking lot on the side of US-211. At about 6:45 on the morning of October 17, 2009, 28 runners assembled in the cold darkness for a quick pre-run briefing and at 7:00 we began to slowly move out onto the trail. Goodbye to Pam as Beth and I slotted into the group near the back of the pack and by the light from our flashlights began what was to become a fantastic journey.
The pack soon thinned, we passed a few people, we warmed up a little bit, light came creeping into the woods, we put our flashlights into our packs, and soon enough we’d gotten into a good rhythm as we attacked the first climb of the day working our way up to the top of the infamous Bird Knob. Within an hour we were alone as all the other runners found the pace that was good for them. My plan for this day was simple. I just wanted to enjoy the experience. I was determined to have fun and not suffer, and I was going to take it easy as if it were simply a long training run. I just had a feeling that this was going to be a fantastic day.
As we worked our way along the course we began to realize that the southern Massanuttens offered up more rocks than we had expected. I knew from my four runs of 100 miles at MMT that the northern mountain was cruelly rocky, but the southern mountain seemingly offered up even more difficult terrain.
The course wasn’t marked and so we all carried maps and turn sheets. Beth had laminated our papers to protect them from the expected rain, and we established a good routine with me reading the turn sheet and her verifying the information by reading the map. As it turned out the map was invaluable because the turn sheet contained a few mistakes.
Excitement flows. New surroundings. Different trails. Stupid hard climbs. Wicked descents. Autumn in the cold damp air. Leaves turning and floating down. Unfamiliar trails leading to who knew what.
With complete overcast and temperatures in the low forties, we had great weather for running. Before the run I’d tried to estimate how long this run would take us. SMUT had a 16 hour cut-off which is unheard of for a 50 miler. JFK has 14 hours, but that’s just because of its history as a hike. All the other 50 milers in the country have 13 hour cut-off times. My only point for any sort of comparison purposes was my experience with MMT in the “Northern” Massanuttens. The MMT 100 is certainly the most technically difficult t race I’ve done. It is also run in the Massanuttens and features 20,000 ft of steep climbs and descents over its 102 miles. The MMT 100 is considered to be one of the hardest 100’s in the country and I thought that my four finishes there gave me some insight into just how difficult SMUT would be. I knew at MMT it took me twelve to thirteen hours to get to the 50 mile point and so I figured that because of the huge amount of climbing we had to do, combined with the tough terrain, and since Beth and I were taking it easy that we’d get done in about 14 hours.
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Beth Weisenborn, Deb Pero, and Alan Gowen
Beth Weisenborn, Deb Pero, and Alan Gowen cruise up to the Catherine Furnace I aid station. (Photo by Quatro Hubbard)
The story of the day was pretty simple. Climb up to the ridge, plunge down the other side. Rocks. Every size. At one point we finally came to some great downhill running on a rather gentle slope only to be sabotaged by wall to wall grapefruit, softball, tennis ball, basketball size rocks. Little rocks. Big rocks. Running on ball bearings. Dampness invading our bodies.
The spur trail to the second aid station took us over boulders right down the middle of a stream. We reached the 17.3 mile point aid station in four and a half hours. Pam was there to take care of us. Pam had been shivering in the cold since 7:30 and with only 28 runners coming through she wasn’t really busy.
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Fridley Gap Aid Station
Fridley Gap Aid Station volunteers Wendy Marszalek and Pam Gowen. (Photo by Steve Pero).
Nonetheless she was there helping and offering food and drink to all who came through. We had drop bags at this aid station and while Pam helped me to re-supply, Beth changed her shoes and it wasn’t too long till we were going back over those boulders and heading up the next climb on the orange trail. We climbed and climbed. And Climbed. When we finally began to run I checked my watch and it had been over an hour since we had last run even one step. Nothing but climbing and rocks. My math told me that if the remainder of the course was anything like the 17 we’d just covered our finishing time would be more like 15 hours rather that the 14 I’d imagined. This was unbelievable. We were moving really well. In fact we were moving better than I’d expected we would and we both felt great. But the extreme nature of the wild mountains we were encountering determined our pace and nothing could really change that. We just reveled in being out on this fantastic new adventure and took each new challenge as it unfolded before us.
The day remained cool and cloudy as we worked our way along the trails. Using teamwork to find the turns we made steady progress. We never saw any other runners, and we knew some of those behind us had dropped out. We both kept feeling fine. No slumps, no energy crises, no bad attitudes. The scenery was wonderful and in many places it was startlingly beautiful. The freshly fallen leaves proved to be troublesome though as it was very difficult in some places to ascertain what was leaves and what was rocks. If we assumed rocks we were generally correct.
Steep mountains. Up we would go. Every now and then some of the downhill trails were wonderful and we could really get into a good running rhythm. The terrain remained very difficult, but the beauty of the autumn scene surrounding us was breathtaking. We rolled into the third aid station at 23.3 miles, and then began the next climb. Run over the rocks downhill to the aid station, and then climb back up. We repeated this scenario all day long. Cool and cloudy. Damp woods, alight with fall’s colors. Rushing streams and gurgling brooks. Narrow valleys and narrow ridgelines. Remote. Feel the wildness.
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Alan Gowen, Beth Weisenborn, and Ed Cacciapaglia
Alan Gowen, Beth Weisenborn, and Ed Cacciapaglia at the Massanutten Vista aid station. (Photo by Sophie Speidel).
Finally late in the afternoon we arrived at the Massanutten Resort and the 27.4 mile aid station. Perched high at a point named Massanutten Vista, the cold wind was blowing. The aid station was really helpful and a cup of their hot soup really tasted good. As we left on the blue blazed trail, light snow was in the air. This section of trail was really beautiful and even though very rocky it was runanble for several miles. We stopped along the ridgeline to put on our jackets, hats and gloves before dropping down into the next very narrow valley, since the very light snow as we lost some altitude was changing to a light rain. Dropping temperatures. Cold and cloudy. Everything dripping wet. Views of mountain ridges on both sides of the trail.
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Massanuten Vista Aid Station
Things seem to be looking grim for Alan Gowen at this halfway point in the SMUT 50 miler - Gary Knipling works with him, while Sophie Speidel is helping Ed Cacciapaglia in the background. (Photo by Quatro Hubbard)
Fighting up the next hellish climb, I could feel my energy fading. The trail went very steeply up an apparent landslide of sand and rocks. Beth was slowly pulling away from me as I could feel the energy flow from my body into the cold wind. Heart pounding, pulse pounding, sweat running and chilling in the cold. Once atop the ridge I took a couple of seconds. Regroup. Eat an energy gel. Take some Ibuprofen. Pee. Drink. Relax. I turned and began running again and within moments I caught Beth who had taken a break to regroup too. That was one tough climb, but we were running and within minutes we were both feeling great again. No slumps today. Spirits soaring. It continued to rain lightly off and on. We navigated the steep and, oh yes, rocky downhill, made a left and once again found ourselves clamoring over now wet and very slick boulders right down the middle of the stream as we made our second stop at the Fridley Gap aid station where Pam was still manning the fort. We were now 36.4 miles into the run and it was about 5:30. It was cold and now the rain was steady. I resupplied and grabbed one more jacket from my drop bag and stowed it in my pack. Beth changed her pants which had gotten soaked by the high bush blueberry bushes along the ridgeline trail, and Pam gave us some very good hot soup that really hit the spot. I grabbed my emergency back-up lights from my drop bag, and after eating and drinking and refilling our hydration bladders we once again clamored over the mid stream boulders and turned left on the orange blazed trail and headed for home.
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A rockier section of SMUT trail
A rockier section of SMUT trail. (Photo by Steve Pero)
Every step taking us closer to the finish. The trail we were now on of course climbed and climbed. This was the same section where we fought all those ball bearing rocks in the morning and now hours later we were climbing over them the other way as we worked our way uphill in the fading light. Just when the trail widened out it became grass and leaf covered and so the speed we ran was dictated by the speed we wanted to be going when we fell over the rocks hiding beneath the vegetation. About 6:30 in the steady cold rain we stopped and put on our headlamps, grabbed our hand held flashlights from our packs, adjusted hats and gloves and continued running into the wet darkness. Gloom and mist. Everything dripping, darkness enveloping. Our world contracting as the day dissolves into blackness beyond the grasp of our lights.
The rain coming down right in front of our headlamps looked like snow. Running through patches of fog, our visibility was severely limited as our headlamps reflected the bright light right back at us. Like driving in the fog with your high beams on. In our cocoons of light, shapes fading to black in the woods take on surreal forms. Light reflecting off the rain. Freshly fallen leaves, wet and reflective hiding the rocks which abound. We made steady progress and finally we broke out of the woods onto a gravel road that would lead us to the next aid station at 44.3 miles. When we hit the road we ran. We ran fast and free. Amazing energy at this point. I don’t know where it came from, but we felt good and we could finally run. But I had to stop. I stopped Beth. I checked our turn sheet. Yup. When we had made the turn onto the gravel road it marked the passage of the 42.6 mile point of the run. High fives for Beth! She had just passed the distance of her previous longest run of 41.8 miles which was the point in last year’s JFK debacle when medics had stuffed her into an ambulance, her race undone by hypothermia. How different now! We both felt strong and happy about the way things were going.
We hit the 44.3 mile aid station at about 7:45. We were both feeling good and we didn’t tarry long. Quickly on our way from the aid station, we soon passed three runners who had been ahead of us all day as we worked hard up the next climb. Only 9 miles to go.
We climbed steeply for over three miles, stumbling over the rocks and skidding on the wet ground. Slipping in the mud, tripping on fallen branches. Fast. We were giving it all we had, feet falling where they may, magically missing the rocks, lights surveying the trail, pulse racing, relentless forward motion up the dark precipice.
Some of the trails aren’t well marked and we had to constantly scan the woods for blazes to make sure we didn’t miss our turn onto the pink blazed trail. This is a new trail and it would be easy to miss in the darkness. We finally found the pink trail and began to run it as best we could when the fog became a big problem. It was just impossible to see far enough ahead to run at a good pace. Fog and rain. We could feel the temperature falling and for a lot of this trail we were forced into some sort of odd combination of a fast walk/run/ shuffle. Odd shapes appearing out of the mist. Even though this was a fairly wide trail it demanded constant attention to stay on it as the rainfall, darkness and fog conspired against us. In our cocoons of light with fog everywhere, it was like being in an airplane flying through a cloud. With no point of reference, we can’t tell we’re moving.
When we finally stumbled out onto what we thought was going to be our last turn, we couldn’t find any blazes where we thought they should be. Momentarily another runner came toward us and announced he couldn’t find the blazes either. But just at that moment a couple of volunteers who had realized there was a problem at this intersection appeared out of the dark and got us pointed in the right direction and we were now in the home stretch. 1.7 miles to go. We navigated the final stretch of trail and finally at 10:41 PM we climbed the very last hill and stepped out into the parking lot where our adventure had started 15 hours and 41 minutes ago.
Pam cheers for us as we make our way across the now nearly empty parking lot to a small table set up out of the rain beneath a canopy where a throng of three tired volunteers are waiting for us on this cold, wet night. That’s it. No brass band. No cheering crowd. Just six tired folks standing in the cold rain and dark; out there somewhere on a mountainside late at night.
We had thought we were really slow all day long and so we are quite surprised to learn that compared to the rest of the field, we did quite well. The runner who won the Big Schloss three weeks prior was the same runner who won on this day. His winning time was 11:21 today and suddenly our 15:41 didn’t seem so slow. We also learned that only 17 people had managed to finish this very difficult run. Beth and I were tied for 10th place out of 28 starters and Beth was the second woman to finish.
We change into some warm and dry clothes and we rejoin the group, but the cold has penetrated to our bones. The final finishers of this magical run make their appearance and quickly head for their cars. I’m beginning to shiver and it’s gotten late. At about 11:30 we get into the car and point it toward home as wet snowflakes mix with the rain and splat upon the windshield.
Pam had spent 12 hours manning the Fridley Gap aid station and her dedication and support made a huge difference to all the runners. She braved the cold and rain from dawn to darkness and did it all with a cheery smile. As we drove toward home it was fun to hear about her adventures as we compared notes and traded stories of our adventures.
This run was huge for Beth. For her first 50 miler she had completed what is one of the very hardest “50” milers in the United States, and she’d done it without any specific training. Just showed up and ran. Not just anybody can do this. This is difficult stuff. Beth is one tough runner.
For me, this run was the most special run I’ve done in many years. It’s right up there with MMT. It was the embodiment of all I’ve come to love about ultrarunning. A “non-event.” Just 17 folks spread out over 54 miles for over 16 hours. Friends appearing out of the mist offering food and help. A pure mountain run. The distance is long, demanding respect. The climbs are hard, demanding strength. The rocky trails are rugged and slick, demanding focus. The rain, cold, and misty darkness combining and demanding perseverance. A pure mountain run. This is a good as it gets.
A little perspective. The winning time at the JFK 50 miler is usually in the 5:55 neighborhood. A normal finishing time for the Bull Run Run 50 Miler is around 6:30. The winning time for the Bighorn 50 miler in the Bighorn Mountains of Wyoming this year was 8:42. So a winning time by a very good trail runner of 11:21 simply goes to underscore the difficulty of this run.
This was my 77th ultra and my 16th 50 miler.
Alan Gowen
Last modified: Oct 11, 2010