We started our day around 5:30 am with headlamps, jackets, hats, and gloves. The approach to King’s Ravine is a slow and steady climb in the trees, but 20 minutes in, I was already taking my layers off. I was worried I might be cold later in the day, up high, but I shouldn’t have been. By the time we got out to the subway, the sun was making its appearance, and we stowed our headlamps and layers for the rest of the day.
Lance has boundless energy and joy for this sort of thing, which makes him equal parts the perfect partner AND a good reminder of what it was like hiking with my youngest brother when we were kids. As we approached the junction at the base of King Ravine, he happened to be singing, and out of the brush above us, we heard a hopeful “hello??”
Our new friend Matt had gotten off trail, but we were able to guide him back with a short game of Marco/Polo. He joined us for the climb up King Ravine, bringing the same stoke to the day as Lance. Once we topped out and started jogging again, we said goodbye and wished Matt the best of luck with finding his way down (pretty sure he was fine).
We summited Adams and jumped into unknown territory. A big reason why I wanted to do this route was that I had never done many of the trails that it takes before. Buttress was fresh miles, but I had been warned to expect the worst. It was so gnarly!! On our way down, we passed a group of three who were also doing this route, one of them (Sam) even recognized me from Jigger Johnson. If you’re reading this Sam, I hope you guys had a great day!
At the bottom of Buttress, we crossed a river and then followed it upwards towards Great Gulf. Despite the drought, this would be a theme - plenty of water in the ravines, nothing on the ridges. As we neared the lake at the bottom of Great Gulf, I heard Lance cry out and turned to see him sitting. He had whacked his head on a log that had fallen high above the trail, one that I had walked under without a second thought. Ahh, the perks of being short. Very suddenly, there was blood pouring down the side of his face. I’m very familiar and comfortable with this sort of thing (hazard of the job), so we stayed calm, used a buff to stop the bleeding, then cleaned his face up. All that blood had come from a puncture wound the size of a safety pin needle. All told, this probably lost us about 10 minutes.
We continued up and summited Washington. I was grateful to see there was no line for the summit sign. Lance informed me that we were 4 minutes behind the FKT. I hadn’t looked at my watch all day up to this point, but he seemed to be enjoying the thrill of the race.
The descent down Tuckerman was probably my favorite part of the day. I love this trail - even though I kept getting stuck behind tourists. At the top of Boott Spur Link, we were 6 minutes ahead of FKT pace. One fun descent later, we hit Pinkham, snapped a quick picture, then turned around to head back up to Huntington.
This was the point where I started “dogging it”. Lance pointed out that I probably wasn’t hydrated enough, but also pointed out that, at the top of Huntington, we were still 4 minutes ahead. One more big climb to go. I was starting to think about time, and I was starting to believe we could do it.
We cruised down Wamsutta, which I’m surprised more people don’t do because it’s actually lovely. Again, all new trails for me. I had no idea what to expect from Mad Gulf. Some friends say it’s really tough, others are on the other side of the fence. Comparatively, it was the easiest climb of the day. By the time it got steep, we were only a half mile from the top. I was grateful that most of this climb was in the trees, because the lovely high ceiling of clouds we’ve had all day suddenly disappeared and left us in full sun.
Climbing up Madison from the hut was intense. I knew it was the last little uphill push of the day, and at the bottom, there would be pizza and beer. We topped out on Madison summit 10 minutes ahead. “Great,” I said to Lance, “Let’s make it 15”.
It’s tough to "run” down Watson path, but we did our best. As soon as it leveled out, we were off, cruising faster than we had been all day. About 2.5 miles from the trailhead, Lance said, “Just so you know, I’m chilling back here. Like, I think you got more in you.” He wasn’t wrong, and it really pissed me off, so naturally, I went from a 15-minute mile pace to closing at an 11-minute pace for those last 2 miles. It hurt a lot, and when we finished, I threw up in the parking lot. Lance's watch died as soon as he hit "save," and of course, he lost his data, but I solemnly swear he was there the whole time.