Passion Fruits Podcast

Good friend of the podcast, Liz, is guest-writing blog posts for us this week, about her experience on the Foothills Trail. Thanks to Liz for sharing this experience with us!

Day 6 was out day. To say we slept would be kind. We laid there in a state of neither asleep nor awake as the storm raged outside our ripstop sanctuary. At 3 am the rains subsided, and the winds came in. Gusts that sounded like freight trains tore through the valley below us and the saddle above us. That large boulder overhand we passed the day before was appearing more and more like a missed opportunity. At 6am, our alarms did little more than alert us to the time, we were already awake. The godfather was right, we had internet connection here and I used it to pull up the current radar map. Above us was the beginnings of a red cell, but it was moving fast. We made the decision to stay in our shelter until it passed as the radar cleared up significantly afterwards. Just around then we heard a large thud that both felt, and heard, way too close for comfort. Neither of us were motivated to see what just missed us. By 9am, the rains subsided enough, we got up, put our cold, soaked clothes back on and ate our cold PopTart breakfast, in the rain. It was then we saw what had missed us. A 6 inch dead tree came crashing down about 6 feet from the corner of the tent.

We kicked ourselves for having missed this snag on our tent location inspection. We had mistaken it for an alive tree because it was covered in green vines that looked like foliage. That or we were so impossibly exhausted we just plum missed it. While we were spared an unfortunate fate, which I am forever grateful, my hiking poles did not make it out quite as well. The tree had landed on them and bent a ‘C’ into the bottom adjustable length. We carried on. We only had 12 miles to get out of the woods, 12 miles until we were finished with our very first through-hike, 12 miles until we could stop walking. The progress was slow, we encountered many downed trees along the path. Some small, some as large as 3 feet in diameter. Some with their trunks across the path, and others with their canopies blocking our way.

Our average of 2.25 miles an hour was hampered to 1.5, sometimes 1 mile per hour. On the top of Pinnacle Mountain there were trees down every 5 feet. We were grateful that we waited in the tent like we did, because the skies cleared and the remainder of the day was a glorious day to be in the woods. After a brief stop on the bald, we began the final descent, inching ever closer to Table Rock. We triumphantly strode into the Table Rock hiking trails with gigantic chips on our shoulders, and pain in our backs. We walked the beautiful wood boardwalk and exclaimed how this was such a wonderful way to end this hike. But as it often goes, we spoke too soon. Because there in front of us was the largest water crossing without a bridge. Really had to save the best for last, I suppose. My recently dried, waterproof, boots were once again topped. The last mile was full of squishing steps while I cursed the Foothills Trail Conservancy.

Finally, the nature center. It was there in front of us, and beyond it, our way home. Eager to get into dry clothes, we clamored to the car and grabbed our “car clothes” to change into. We were done. It was done. We had survived. We’d defeated it. We weathered a failed attempt in July. Unpredicted rain. Sore knees and toes. Unrelenting weather. Fallen trees and water crossings. We couldn’t have done it without the wonderful trail maintenance of the Foothills Trail Conservancy, the godfather, or each other. That and Ramen Bombs.

Good friend of the podcast, Liz, is guest-writing blog posts for us this week, about her experience on the Foothills Trail. Check back each day for more stories from Liz!

Day 5 was not supposed to be a rain day. Yet it was raining as we awoke at 6am. It was raining as we ate our breakfast. It was raining while we packed our stuff and hoisted our bags onto our backs again. It rained on us when we found cell service and asked for an update from the folks at home. When was this rain that was not supposed to happen going to quit? Weather is a fickle beast. The rain would continue for most of the day with a short break in the afternoon. Our plan to keep our feet dry was a bust, our plan to hike Heartbreak Ridge in the dry was gone, the views from Lake Jocassee were not visible. With sloshy feet, we carried on. We climbed Heartbreak ridge, pausing only to look at the benches, not sit in them, there wasn’t a view today. We carried on to Laurel Valley Falls, pausing to look at the magnitude of the waterfall then continuing onto the campsite for lunch.

We ate our cold lunch in the cold rain. Our raincoats were nothing more than a formality at this point, we were soaked to the bone, our fingers were pruny. If I could make one request to the Foothills Trail conservancy, it would be to build shelters. I will help you build them. There was nothing else to do but walk and walk we did. We walked for 19 miles with only 3 hours of relief from the rain after lunch. We passed Laurel Valley parking in high spirits; we had made it so far. There we passed a hiker who was waiting for pick up and both wondered if he was waiting on the godfather. As we neared Chimneytop, and right as or coats had dried out, the rain began again in earnest. Setting up a tent in the rain is never something I wanted to know how to do, but now I can say it is possible. We took stock of the trees around our campsite, were they all healthy? We were expecting high winds that night and did not want to be in the reach of a widow maker. The tent up, the fly on, my hiking partner got to filtering water as I cooked our last hot meal; a thanksgiving dinner concoction made with mashed potatoes, stuffing and turkey jerky. We ate dinner in the rain. Tired of being wet, we crawled into the relative dryness of our sleeping clothes and bags just as the downpours began.

Good friend of the podcast, Liz, is guest-writing blog posts for us this week, about her experience on the Foothills Trail. Check back each day for more stories from Liz!

Day 4 we awoke early to set off as quickly as possible. We’d pack up without breakfast and then eat when we retrieved our bear bin at Whitewater. I stepped out of the tent to the dry chilly air, looked up and stopped. The heavens were full of stars. Absolutely glorious. It was then that I’d realized that every morning had been cloudy, without the faintest glimpse at a night’s sky. With headlamps burning, we set off to Whitewater. There’s a reason why some of us backpack, a reason we don’t just use campgrounds or do day hikes. This morning is one of those reasons. We crested Grassy Knob, coming upon the benches and the views of lake just as the sun rose above the mountain peaks. The sun’s golden rays bathed the world in a glow that I will never forget. I couldn’t help but remember the absolute agony I was in at this point during our July hike. At that time, my feet had swollen and were brutally blistered. I counted my blessings as we strode into Whitewater without pain and in high spirits. Once retrieving our bear bin stash, we enjoyed breakfast and redivided our supplies.

Before we could finish, Taz, the godfather himself, drove up to see how we were fairing. He explained that he was there to pick up a fellow through hiker from Louisiana who had decided to terminate his hike due to the impending storm hitting his home on Thursday. A little concerned, we asked for a weather update and as we’d been told before, we should expect rain on Thursday, but this day and tomorrow would be clear. We told him our intentions to hike either to Chimneytop or Lighthouse by Wednesday night. He said he could get us from Chimneytop if things got bad and that there was cell service as well! Done, as I didn’t really want to hike 22 miles on Wednesday anyways. Two hugely important things happened this day. We passed the farthest we’d hiked in July and we made it past the halfway point. After an arduous but gloriously sunny day, we made it the 16 miles to Big Bear Camp. We were tired, sore and felt disgusting. After setting up camp, we rinsed ourselves and our clothes off in the creek then hung the clothes to dry overnight. The exhaustion was real this evening and we retired early.

Grateful for a full day in the sun to come, we rested easy. That is, until 3 A.M., when I was jolted awake by the slight but unmistakable sound of drizzle. I nudged my tent-mate awake, letting her know that while it wasn’t supposed to, it was currently raining, and all of our stuff was outside trying to “dry”. I laid there awake for a moment, seeing if it would lighten up but it only rained harder. Reluctantly, we crawled out of the dry and warmth of our tent and hastily gathered our still soaked clothes from the line. So much for having clean dry clothes in the morning.

Good friend of the podcast, Liz, is guest-writing blog posts for us this week, about her experience on the Foothills Trail. Check back each day for more stories from Liz!

Day 3 we awoke to a moist day. Not overly rainy, but by no means dry. The rainfly was once again soaked, and we had another soggy breakfast. But at least there was coffee. We were both in a rush and not, all at once. We had one of the shortest days ahead of us, but we were eager to get to camp and relax. Today was our chance to let our feet recover before pushing for a 16-mile day followed by a 20-mile day. About 3 miles into our hike, we came across the man who was hiking in our direction again. He lamented about the hard miles and the rain and told us if we needed anything to let him know. His goal was to push passed Whitewater this day. A goal I did not envy.

We arrived at the boy scout camp on the spur trail just before Whitewater. We set up our tent and took the opportunity to dry everything. The rain was holding off but occasionally the clouds would pass through and we’d get a dusting of moister weather. We spent the afternoon reading our books, drinking hot cocoa and tea (and a little whiskey) and looking forward to experiencing new terrain the next day.

Good friend of the podcast, Liz, is guest-writing blog posts for us this week, about her experience on the Foothills Trail. Check back tomorrow for more stories from Liz!

Day 2 was the first time I’ve ever packed my bag in the rain. It was not the last. We took our time getting out of camp, hoping that the rain would subside for the day. Finally giving up around 8:30, we set off with our rain coats on. Almost immediately we came upon a woman who was on the cusp of completing the foothills trail by way of section hiking. She’d started it over a decade ago and now in her retirement, was bound and determined to complete the trail. We were just barely 6 miles from Oconee, we wished her the best of luck and congratulations. Once out of earshot, my hiking partner and I both exclaimed how we wanted to be like that in our retirement.  We had two goals for this day’s hike. Go 12 miles, and camp next to the Chattooga at this phenomenal campsite we both remembered from July. As we approached the Chattooga, we came across another through hiker who was hiking in our direction but alone. He had goals to reach Table Rock by Friday. We thought he was crazy to attempt such a quick hike but wished him well and gave him what advice we could. Our lunch was spent beside the powerful river on a comfortable rock with a warm breeze. A roaring river as powerful as the Chattooga has a way of reminding you how very inconsequential you are. The river will always be there.

By mile 9, our hearts sank as we passed the camp site that we were aiming for. We couldn’t short the day by that much and be done by Saturday. We carried on and up as we left the Chattooga, both of us saying our forlorn goodbyes. We set our minds to Burrell’s Ford. As luck would have it, we reached Burrell’s Ford without issue, very early in the evening. To our surprise, we found the campsites were bordered by the Chattooga and our hope to soak in the river was realized! The evening ended in rain, we started noticing a pattern. We tucked into the tent and reviewed our mileage plans for the remainder of the trip. Both a bit weary of the rain, we’d independently developed the desire to finish the hike early. Our relaxed pace of 10 to 11 miles per day would get us out of the woods by Saturday. But if we did a 16 mile day here and a 20 here, we could get out by Friday. Hell, we could do Thursday if we did a 12 at the end.

Good friend of the podcast, Liz, is guest-writing blog posts for us this week, about her experience on the Foothills Trail. Check back each day for more stories from Liz!

Saturday, October 24^th, it all began..er…again. My hiking partner and I found ourselves in familiar territory as we drove the 5 hours from Raleigh to Flat Rock State Park to meet Taz for a shuttle. It seems we had not gotten our fill of the Foothills Trail during our last expedition. You see, in July of this year, we made a foolhardy attempt to conquer the Foothills Trail in 5 days. Spurred on by our “COVID-gains” (increased physical fitness due to the inability to participate in normal life and a resolution to just be outside) and a swollen sense of “we got this”. We most certainly did not have it. Our failed attempt found us tuck tailed and literally limping off the Foothills Trail on day 3, only 30 miles in. Chastened and little wiser, we made a plan to return but this time, complete the trail in 8 days.

Taz, the trail angel godfather, was exactly as I pictured him. A lovely retiree who spends his time advising the eager hikers about to tackle his trail. Maybe if he had shuttled us the first time, we would have been more successful. It was a lovely warm, sunny autumn day as Taz picked us up from Flat Rock and drove us the hour to Oconee State Park. We made several pit stops, one to hide our mid hike resupply at Whitewater and a couple parking lot drive-bys to see if anyone needed a rescue. We said our goodbyes in the parking lot and he drove off. Leaving us there, 76.2 miles from our car.

Day 1 was a beautifully sunny and warm autumn day. We passed many happy hikers near the trailhead, likely staying in the campground for the Halloween festivities…a glimmer of normal in these weird times. We were jubilant at first, making conversation about everything and nothing. As is the norm with long hikes, our conversation eventually subsided with the occasional burst of one’s thoughts and fervent discussion. We’ve done this a time or two before. Night one was not exciting. It was the pause before the big, glorious Chattooga. We found a mediocre camp site that was at least flat. Over dinner of Ramen Bombs, we shared speculations of what laid ahead of us. “Do you remember how hard ‘insert generic section of stairs’ was? I remember my feet were so done by then”. As the rain rolled in, we hunkered down in the tent and mentally prepared ourselves for the next day.

Dear Star Fury,

Yes, I named my bike. Taken from an episode of My Brother, My Brother and Me, where the McElroys read a Yahoo Answer about “Warrior Cat” names, it’s been a tradition for my bikes to be christened with a “Warrior Cat” name.

Star Fury was the mountain bike I bought after I broke my collar bone one summer in Asheville, NC in 2013. My first thought while I was walking out of the hospital, after I was told I had broken my clavicle in five places and was going to need surgery, was “Man, I can’t wait to get back on my bike.” And obviously it wasn’t my lack of skill that caused me to crash and break my body. OBVIOUSLY it was my entry level mountain bike that held me back. It’s hard to get sarcasm across in text, but please know that is sarcasm.

Of course, I turned to Adam, best friend and future co-host of Passion Fruits Podcast, for suggestions on a new mountain bike. He suggested this Specialized Carve hardtail, and I snapped it up. I used it to shred my local trails in Greensboro, to rip it up with Adam in the DC and Charlotte areas while he was living there, and to get rad in Western NC. This became the bike that launched my passion for cycling. I used this bike to learn how to maintain my bikes, how to set up tubeless tires, and how to install new parts. It pushed me to ride harder, faster, while still getting rad and having fun.

It was a no muss, no fuss, mountain bike. It took me anywhere I wanted to go, and put smiles on my face while doing it. Some of my favorite rides were on this bike. I upgraded to a sweet, full suspension mountain bike a couple of years ago, and sold Star Fury to a guy who said he was going to get back into mountain biking after he hadn’t ridden in a while since having kids. I hope it has inspired him to ride as much as it inspired me.

Thanks Star Fury. For all the memories.

Luv, Daniel

Mastodon is one of my favorite bands. I love every single on of their albums, from 2004’s bonecrushing Leviathan, a concept album based on Herman Melville’s Moby Dick, to 2017’s Emperor of Sand, a more mainstream concept album following a wanderer in the desert who has been handed a death sentence. Yeah man, they’re pretty fuckin’ awesome.

I saw them live in 2017 with a good friend, and they killed. They rocked so hard, and even had Eagles of Death Metal opening for them. A one-two punch of pure rock goodness. And Mastodon didn’t slow down the entire night. It was awesome.

I’m eagerly awaiting for them to release a new studio album, but their latest release, a collection of singles, one-offs, and live tracks will tie me over until then. As of writing this, I haven’t had a chance to listen to it (no press credentials yet!), but I’ve been looking forward to it since the first single, “Fallen Torches,” was released. I’m hoping we get news about a new album soon. For now, I’ll be listening to their back catalogue, and you should too.

Mont Blanc Trekking adventure- August 2019

Unsure what to expect, we made it to our first mountain hut with enough time to get cleaned up and have a glass of wine before dinner.  When they came out with bread and soup, it was delicous, but I was concerned about being hungry later on, especially with the intensity of the effort from the day.  But then they came out with cheese.  And then the au Gratain potatoes.  And then the provencial sausage.  And then the fruit tart.  And that was the start of not losing any weight on this journey, even though we trekked 80 miles with over 35,000 feet of climbing over those miles. 

– Lauren

RAGBRAI- Bikepacking 2016 and 2017

While it’s not advised to stay in “Tent City” (it gets SO hot in there duirng the day and good luck finding your tent!) It makes a pretty spectacular photo.

Bike Parking, Iowa Style.  Who needs a bike rack when you have a perfectly planted field of corn?

During RAGBRAI there are cyclists everywhere- over 20,000 of them on any given day.  You pack individual kits in zoplock bags to not get everything soaked in the afternoon July thunderstorms.  You stop in small towns along the way to refill your water and eat some brats.  You stop right outside of towns at the Iowa State Beer Truck to have a beer *(or 3) before rolling the last couple of miles into town for the evening.  You make new friends.

– Lauren