Rachel Carson Trail Trip Report

Discussion of This Report

trip date: 19 November 2019
report written: 17 February 2020

The time between the report and trip is because it never occurred to me that I might have established the FKT for this route with my effort. This was a very personal project, and I assumed that because of the popularity of the official RCT Challenge my run wouldn't scratch the top 100, let alone the top 10. However, in a recent conversation with a fellow local runner, I realized that most people do the slightly shorter challenge course -- and most people do not do the whole trail from terminus to terminus as I did.

I do not want in anyway to demean the Challenge or anyone who as done it by making my submission for the FKT against the whole course -- these are simply two different things that use some of the same trail.

I have referred to my GPS data in writing this report, but mostly as a narrative aid. The scenes I'm describing are clear as day in my mind, but I didn't even know the names of the places that I was when they were happening so it's awfully hard to tell the story.

My effort was unsupported. I took a sip of water from a public fountain along the way, but that does not violate my personal ethic for "unsupported", and the FKT FAQ supports this. (https://fastestknowntime.com/faq) Other than that, I received no food or water from anyone or any source other than my own pack for the whole effort. I did not pre-stash any food, water, or gear and did not leave any gear or litter behind. I did have a friend meet me at the end of the trail because it's a point-to-point but I did not interact with him physically during the effort. I also exchanged perhaps a dozen text messages with my ride as well as my girlfriend, Vincent Zeng, who was my designated "person who knows my plan in case something goes wrong" during the effort, to update them on my progress. While I am grateful for their logistical help after the effort and words of confidence, I do not believe that constitutes "support" in the sense that would mean this isn't an "unsupported" effort.

Gear Carried

Arcteryx hooded Incendio jacket
Black Diamond Z-lite trekking poles
Brooks Cascadia 13 trail runners
Buff
Garmin Forerunner 630 GPS watch
Icebreakers wool shirt (carried but not used)
Life Straw water filter (carried but not used)
Patagonia capeline base layer shirt
Patagonia duckbill cap
REI glove liners
Rabbit Daisy Dukes shorts
SOL emergency bivy (carried but not used)
Solomon ADV skin 12 set hydration vest and flasks, with a slightly oversized off brand bladder
small Pelican case with phone, cash, ID, etc.
the very invincible Darn Tough No-Show running socks

Food & Water

Hammer gels
Clif bars
assorted other meal bars -- some Picky bars, some PRO meal replacement bars.
1L of water between two flasks with 4 Hammer enrdurolyte tablets between the two
2.5L of plain water in main bladder

Description of The Effort

Backstory

Several years ago I decided that I'd lived in Pittsburgh long enough without taking a shot at the Rachel Carson trail. I had graduated at the time but was not employed, so I didn't have the money to enter the annual official Challenge. Instead, I figured that the trail ought to be pretty easy to follow the day immediately after the challenge, and there'd be almost as much sunlight, so it ought to be nearly as good but also within my budget. Since the Challenge would be over, I'd have to be more self sufficient with water and food than relying on aid stations but that fit my own ethic better anyway.

I recruited my much more experienced outdoor friend, Brian Dunlavey, and we set off just at dawn on 22 June 2014 expecting not much trouble. We tried to hike the whole thing, starting from the North Park Lake, and were not prepared to run it. We threw in the towel at the intersection with Burtner Road, unprepared to keep going into the night and out of water and food on a hot summer's day.

After I'd forgotten enough of my first attempt, I found another partner, Alex Hallenbeck, and tried again on 4 November 2015. I reasoned that it would be cooler and therefore we'd need less water, but still planned to hike the whole thing. This time we had trouble following the trail because it wasn't as heavily used as it would be right after the challenge, and just ran out of daylight because it was that much later in the year. As the sun was setting we encountered some folks who were unhappy that we were near their property, and we decided to tuck our tails and head for the nearest PAT bus stop after about 20 miles from North Park Lake.

I toyed around with finding partners for a couple or more tries but never that seriously. I have a lot of friends who are capable of this kind of thing, but my own heart wasn't in it so I couldn't really hope to convince anyone else to join me. I more or less forgot about my project for a few years, other than leaving it on the list of unfinished and attempted things I wasn't sure how to do and felt kind of bad about.

Last fall, though, some pieces came together and I had an unusually good season. I ran a beautiful trail half and spent two weeks solo backpacking. When I came back, I felt strong and confident and like I had matured as an outdoors person -- and I remembered that the Rachel Carson was on my nagging list. I decided that I would keep an eye on the weather and my work schedule and see if the stars happened to align. I tried to find a partner again, but I was confident that the experiences I'd had since my last try meant I could do it solo without undue risk, and run it instead of trying to hike it, and probably get through unsupported.

I was a little bit chagrined to learn that the western terminus of the trail was now in Wexford, outside North Park, and that I'd have to run an extra few miles to complete my end-to-end goal. I cursed myself for delaying another attempt so that I could have done less work to still check off my box, but decided to go for it anyway if I could.

The Effort

The stars aligned for me on 19 November 2019.

The weather forecast was not perfect, but it was good enough: it was meant to be overcast and unseasonably warm during the day, not too cold the night before, and with a fairly low chance of rain that night. I managed to convince my friend David Devine to be my taxi driver: I would drive myself to the western terminus in Wexford, run to the other end in Harrision, and David would meet me there to drive me back to my car at the start. He would also be on call during the day in case I needed to bail. (He's an extremely good person.)

I planned to be unsupported and run as much of the trail as I could to make the most of the daylight. I had some cash and a credit card with me, so that if I was in a bad place I could buy food, water, or a ride but only as an emergency fall back plan.

I planned to only consume what I had packed, and that's what I did with the exception of a sip of water from a public fountain in North Park. (Following my own ethic as well as the FAQ on the FKT website, I still feel that this is a genuine unsupported effort. To quote the FAQ, "On the other hand, if you're walking by a public facility that has a spigot, it seems pointless and arbitrary not to use it. As always, just be clear about exactly what you did.")

I'm usually a 10:00am kind of guy, but The morning of the 19th I woke up ready to go before my alarm went off at 4:30am and was out the door by 5:15am. I stopped at the McDonald's on US19 in Wexford near the trailhead to pretend that I was going to buy a hashbrown but mostly to use their bathroom. The folks in the restaurant looked like they were there every morning together--hushed and clustered around a warm table, sharing stories and a meal before dawn. They noticed me and definitely weren't sure what I was up to, but I must have seemed harmless enough.

I parked my ancient Honda in the parking lot of Pittsburgh North Regional Chamber of Commerce, following the directions from the RCT conservancy website, and started looking for the beginning of the trail at 6:30am.

There's a bit of a dogleg down to the Harmony trail along Wexford Run to find the actual sign for the western terminus. It took a second to get oriented, especially since the sun hadn't come up and I was using my headlamp in an unfamiliar place. I ended up following blazes for the RCT but in the wrong direction, back to the start. I made a bad guess and picked north instead of south on Harmony trail when I got there, jogged out a little bit without finding the sign, then came back south and found it immediately. I took this hamfisted style of route planning as a good omen for the rest of my day, and started off down the trail.

The rest of the day exists mostly as a series of disconnected vignettes. I don't remember every footfall, but specific scenes are very vivid to me. I've listed them here in order from West to East.

I remember crossing US19 and thinking that I was close to my motorcycle mechanic, and that the next time I was waiting for an oil change I should bring my trail shoes and go for a run instead of sitting in the diner tapping my feet.
I remember when I turned off my headlamp, nearly in North Park, and told myself I wouldn't have to turn it back on that day. Optimism is easy in the morning.
I remember coming down through the trails in North Park near Kummer Road. I was laughing to myself because I've done countless workouts on the North Park loop road, but this was my first time on the western half of the trails. I remembered that my last time on the trails there at all was my last failed RCT attempt, and my stomach dropped when I realized that I hadn't even made back it to the old starting point. I remember thinking about my friend Brian, and a comment he made about trying to not get lost in the white-blazed mountain bike trails near the North Ridge trail in North Park.
I remember a huge flock of twenty or so turkeys sitting on the trail. I've had some bad luck with them before; they can get pretty aggressive when they're disturbed. I made the loudest woop-wooping noises I could from far away and they begrudgingly shuffled off to one side so I could pass unpecked.
I crossed the railroad tracks near Pine Creek and was surprised to see them so soon in the day. I was starting to lose track of time and get landmarks out of order, and it seemed awfully early in the day for that. A little bit before, I had to cross the first real stream so far and realized that all the water I'd be near was going to be very cold. I decided that getting substantially wet would be a hard red line for me; I would get very cold and have a hard time getting warm again.

I looked down at my watch and was shocked to see that I'd run 10 miles already. as a road runner I usually feel every tenth, but I felt like I was just getting started.
Shortly after the segment on Sample road, there was a stream crossing to a muddy flat part of the trail that I remembered from my previous attempts. The water this time was much higher, with some runoff skimming the surface. I was still worrying about being wet and cold when I was alone, so I saw a tree laying over the creek about 20 yards up stream from the crossing and shimmied across that instead.

This was not graceful. A fair amount of profanity was involved, because this manoeuvre was pretty tenuous and if I screwed it up I'd fall fully into the creek. The deer didn't seem to mind my bad language. Much of the trail on the muddy flat was washed out and indistinct, so I followed it as best I could and was glad to be past that area.
I remember turning onto the flat dirt road at Church Lane and finally being able to open up my stride for a little. I tucked my poles under my arm and ran as much like a road runner as I could; it felt very good and I think I clocked something like 9 minute mile.
I remember specifically eating one of the new-to-me protein rich bars I bought as I crossed over I76 on the PA910 bridge. I had to choke it down somewhat, and spent a few miles cursing myself for trying new things on "race day".

I like that bridge a lot. PA910 is a nice motorcycle riding road, so I've been there many times, and it was nice to be somewhere familiar.
I saw the first (and I think only) other person I would see that day in Emmerling park, just after the Harlequins Rugby stadium. He was in hip-waders in Deek Creek and waved to say hello. I waved back and used my voice for the first time that day. I wondered if he had any idea of what I was up to or how deep in my own head I had been before he greeted me. It was good to remember other people.
I remember the ascent around and then desecent into Agan Park. The first time I tried the RCT, V had stashed some water and spare socks for Brian and I behind a big tree there. The park had been full of families playing catch when we went through. This time it was closed for the season and awfully lonely. I felt good that I was at my previous cache site with more than half the water I started with.
The road segment up hill after Agan was as much fun as I had remembered. there was some more foul language about cars, speed limits, and visibility, but no one was round to mind much.
Things got hard for me in the Park-n-Ride for PA28 at the bottom of Ridge Road. I got there was just before sunset and I had promised both my ride, David, and V that I would check in by text around sunset but probably not before.

I stopped and pulled out my phone for the first time, read the chatter between them during the day, and let them know where I was. They were both very excited and told me to go for it, and that I was within 10 miles from the finish. I had been managing something like 4mph to that point, so that felt like something I could do -- "just two more hours, ish" in fuzzy end of day math. David set out from the city to meet me, and I shuffled off up Ridge Road into the gathering gloom. I turned on my headlamp for the first time since that morning and noticed in the beam that there was a fog threatening to turn into rain.
The hardest part of the whole day was at the next road crossing, with Burtner Road just west of PA28. That was my previous "high point" with Brian on my first attempt.

It's hard to go past your previous best; there's a real resistance, because it means you're doing something you've never done before, and that brings possibilities for new failures just as you're thinking about old one. I stood at the bottom of the climb going east for a good long while, turned off my headlamp, and let it rain on me so I could think clearly about what I was about to do. Then I turned my headlamp back on and did it.
Once I crossed under PA28 for the last time I knew I was basically done. I had to not get lost or turn an ankle and execute the last part, but it felt like the weight was off my shoulders.

I stopped along Veterans Lane near Freeport Road, about at the entrance of Harrison Hills park, to text David and V again and let them know I was still on to finish. My pace slowed dramatically after the sunset because the beam of my headlamp was reflecting off the fog and light rain in the atmosphere, so I was way later than he would have extrapolated. I made a decision to take it slow and go blaze-to-blaze so that I wouldn't get lost rather than trying to burn it out and ending up causing more trouble for myself.
I got turned around in Harrison Hills Park for the first time all day, and ended up doing some route finding both around the pond in the south and cellphone tower in the north. In both cases, I believe I followed the appropriate blazes the whole time but that the trail may fork or become vague in popular high traffic areas. The maps posted in the park, on the Conservancy website, and various maps on the internet also do not quite agree about these areas, which supports my guess about forking makes me suspect that I am not the only person who has been confused here.
The last mile or two up the side of Harrison Hills overlooking the river felt it went on forever. The rain was picking up, making the view into Freeport and Garvers Ferry indistinct. I'd hiked that segment before but it just felt so much longer than I remembered.
When I came past the tower and onto the gravel road, I gave it my best effort to trot home to the finish in good style. God only knows how I actually looked. When I got to the parking lot under the billboard that is the Eastern Terminus no one was there. David had gone to get dinner because I had slowed down so much, and in doing so gave me the extremely rare gift of clicking "stop" and "save" on my watch with no fanfare and no one but myself to think about what I'd just done.
Then David arrived. I sank gratefully into the heated seats of his car, apologized for how I smelled and for being late, and he started the drive back to my car, a shower, and bed.

When I returned home to unpack my gear and eat, I was shocked to find I had about 1L of water left. Because of the cool temperatures, consistent light rain, and overcast skies, I drank both flasks of electrolyte mixed water but only some of the bladder so I had a ton left over.

I also basically didn't touch my gels. They're a real staple for me during road racing, but the one I tried absolutely turned my stomach. I had two clif bars left which I happily ate on the drive.

Afterwards

I was surprised at how fine I felt in the days after this effort. I took a week off running and then got back into it, and just moved along with my life.

Even though this was a very personal activity for me, its importance was more in doing it than having done it. I have complicated feelings about the trail itself -- between some of the encounters with local land owners I've had, the erosion problems that the RCTC is always fighting against, and the irony of the damage done to the land around the trail in comparison to the ideals of its namesake. I'm not positive that my presence there the three times I've been on it has been a net positive thing.

I am grateful to the people that I know who helped me become the person I needed to be to do this. Not everyone is as lucky as I am to have friends who care so much.

ivoysey/rct