Devil's Path 27M Fastpack, Catskill Mountains, NY 5,5 Elevation Gain: 10,000+' - High Point: 3855' - Low Point: 1980' Scrolling Photographs of the Devil's Path May 18, 2013 - I have always loved Tina Turner; maybe it's just her great legs; or maybe it's her swagger; or maybe it was something she said one time before cranking out Proud Mary about never, ever doing anything "nice, and easy" - only ever doing things "nice, and rough". It resonates so much with my outlook on life, and running, in particular, as my passions increasingly migrate toward the rough, the tough, and the beautiful, and shying away from "nice and easy". This trail - the Devil's Path - was just that - nice and rough and beautiful - and so I find myself still savoring the experience two days later, already planning to go back. I find I never need an alarm to get me going when I have a dream to chase. Up at 0430 to find ambient light already creeping through the canopy, I roused from a restless night of sleeping in the car, got my gear together, channeled my inner Chingachgook, and was ready to go by 0515 with plenty of light at a comfortable 37 degrees. Cranking up my engines I immediately felt that old familiar purr as the rocky trail immediately went vertical on the first climb up Plateau Mountain. Feeling rested and dressed lightly I found my stride early and charged my Ferrari up, up, and up over rocks, rocks, and more rocks, over roots and around boulders, with an ambition to climb the first 1.2 miles and 1400 feet to the top in a half hour. Despite humming along without need for pause I was surprised to find it took me 45 minutes to reach the flat at the top. This trail was perhaps going to be more formidable than even I had hoped for. All the better. Unlike most other "trail runs" this outing would be more appropriately considered a fastpack. Not knowing exactly what to expect I was packing heavy, with about ten pounds in a hydration backpack and waist outfit. I carried extra water in the event springs and seeps were not to be found frequently enough; survival gear in the event of some traumatic injury that would force me to bivouac overnight - like extra dry clothing, space blanket, fire starters, extra food, even a compass. With so many unknowns, despite my preparation and research, I was a good Boy Scout and tried to anticipate everything. I even packed a needle and thread, along with a lot of other medical supplies, in case I had to suture a lacerated knee, or worse. I've been in the weeds and experienced trauma and survival situations alone before, and I was not going to take anything for granted while fastpacking what has been labeled one of the six most dangerous trails in America. The top of Plateau Mountain, appropriately named, was a two-mile runnable flat through a classic boreal subalpine forest, with a mystical feel at six o'clock in the morning. I half expected to find gnomes collecting mushrooms in the thickets or the Headless Horseman come chasing from behind. I enjoyed the shuffle through the dark woods toward the morning sunshine on the eastern side. It very much reminded me of the swampy boreal forests north of here on the Canadian Shield. The adventure was going well; my engines were purring; and I had already found that sweet spot as I danced a perpetual pas de deux with the rocks and roots. At 3855' of elevation, Plateau Mountain would be the highest point of the day. In pure sunshine I rolled off the east side, straight down 1200 feet rockin' and rootin' at a safe shuffle to Mink Hollow at the bottom. Finding a great spring most of the way down boosted my confidence that there would be adequate water along the way. I drank heartily and continued toward the next climb up Sugarloaf, another 1200' climb up some of the most challenging rock chutes and cliffs of the entire Devil's Path. This vertical section is aptly called Suicide Mountain, especially by those attempting a winter traverse, like some insane friends of mine did in April. The old Ferrari ain't as fast as it used to be, but it can still climb with the best of them. No one would walk past me all day, except for a group of Japanese hikers while I was taking an extended social break with another runner. I felt good scrambling up Sugarloaf, often wishing I had my boots on rather than trail shoes. I attempted to conserve water, still not knowing what sources remained ahead of me, but didn't scrimp on Clif Shot Bloks. After summiting the 3800' Sugarloaf and stretching out the legs on some runable sections I descended the eastern side down to Pecoy Notch, often downclimbing chutes and weaving through narrow openings between large rock outcroppings. Along the way there were some good views of the next vertical challenge - Twin Mountain - and the narrow ribbon of the Hudson River winding north-south at 30 miles in the distance. Climbing out of the col the route up Twin was not as tough as the previous two climbs, enabling me to run many sections as I ascended. Rolling over the first summit of Twin at 3640' and then the second at lesser elevation my momentum carried me down a series of contours and ledge scrambles for a half mile down to Jimmy Dolan Notch, the highest col on the trail, before doing the fourth climb up Indian Head Mountain, which peaks out at 3573'. Its rather unremarkable top doesn't last long before it begins a precipitous mile and a quarter quick drop of about 1400', where overhanging trees and root systems become essential for safe downclimbing of the route. This was a tough section, one that I was not looking forward to renegotiating on the return trip. Reaching the bottom left only another two-and-a-half miles of gradual rocky woods running to reach the parking lot at Prediger Road, which I achieved in an elapsed time of exactly five hours. Not too bad for a conservative, safe, hike/run of 13.3 miles and 5000' of climbing, more or less. I had occasion to cross paths with perhaps eight runners along the way, in both directions, that were training on the Devil's Path in preparation for the first running of the Manitou's Revenge 56M race, scheduled for June 22-23. Sharing a special kinship with these mountain harriers I found myself pausing to talk to every one of them, sometimes at length. All these runners are afflicted with the same passion, and we indulge in each other's enthusiasm and shared challenges. My intrigue for the MR56M, run on much of the Devil's Path as well as the Long Path, has me thinking of enjoining this endeavor and doing something extraordinarily rough, I mean, really tough. The social side of doing these difficult runs is perhaps my favorite part of the entire outing. I was amused with a group of Japanese men, the one's previously mentioned; on my second go by the one fellow hollered at me in broken English, "You fast"; after passing them I heard another remark in surprise, "He not young". Cracked me up. Made my day. After turning around at Prediger Road for the return trip, I changed into lighter clothes, chowed down a bit, socialized more, and generally took even greater care with my foot placement so as not to fall. As tough and potentially harrowing a trail as this was I didn't fall once and only stumbled a few times. No need for sutures this time. The journey back was a bit warmer as I immediately dove back into climbing the extremely challenging ascent of Indian Head. For the first, I was feeling it. My knees and Achilles were talking to me, begging me to just stop, sit down, and have a beer or two or..... The Marine just dug deeper and continued upward until the pain gave up and stopped sending signals to my brain. From the top of Indian Head back I ran carefully so as not to sustain injury, drinking generously, eating lots of Clif Bloks, and hiking more slowly going up Sugerloaf and Plateau. The descents of each had my dawgs howling, but my getaway sticks were generally good. I maneuvered my Ferrari the rest of the way back without the wheels coming off, scratching my sidewalls a couple of times, but not adding any new dings to my sleek machine. I was plenty ready to stop when I reached the car, but knew that I had plenty left if I had to continue. Time for the roundtrip, despite packing extra weight and abundant social breaks, was ten hours and five minutes - humping eight 3500+' Catskill mountains over about 27 miles while climbing somewhere around 10,000'. A good day. From time to time I race on terrain, just as steep and just as rocky as this, but I cannot recall running such a collection of rock piles all in one place since my glory days in the 70's and 80's around Vail, Colorado. It wasn't all roots and rocks and climbing; I do recall two smooth, level sections as I ran from the car to the trailhead, and then back again. Everything else was just a memorable mountain dance. As I sit here dreaming of the next one, hardly even sore from this one, I can feel that old familiar purr welling up within. I can hardly wait to do it again. :) |