Dispatch from the Not Woods

I was sitting on a low stone wall along the two lanes of the winding Skyline Drive in Shenandoah National Park, VA. Cars crept by, kept in check by the 35 mph speed limit, gazing at the pile of filth slumped on the roadside partition. I was said pile of filth, quietly boiling some water with a hole-punched cat food can fueled by denatured alcohol, surrounded by burnt aluminum foil. That pile of filth sat patiently, letting the hours tick by. Something flickered by my pack resting on the ground. Ah, of course, it's a 10-inch baby rattlesnake that appeared to be inebriated. Baby rattlesnakes don't have venom, right? It barely had a rattle. My conclusion, obviously, was that now was the perfect time to touch a wild rattlesnake. I did. It was awesome. Then I was bored again, staring at the strip of pavement that travels sinuously atop Shenandoah National Park, criss-crossing the Appalachian Trail like two entwined rattlesnakes. I moved myself to a trailside perch tucked into the woods, where I found that I could scare the crap out of people when I announced my presence. Now the waiting game was quite amusing. My day of exercising extreme patience came on my 48th day, and 1,280 miles, since leaving Mt. Katahdin in Maine. My younger brother Mike picked me up soon after someone thought I was a bear, and I was whisked off of the trail to attend a cousin's wedding. One wedding weekend of overly successful partying concluded, and I just got home from another wedding in New York (HUGE shoutout to Jen & Jim and Scott & Courtney - CONGRATS!). Tomorrow I shall return to the trail and visit my inebriated rattlesnake friends and resume my job as migrating pile of filth!

My name is Burger King, and I approve this Nutella.

Since my last post, the miles have flown by. Every northbounder I met prior to Pennsylvania warned me of PA. All I heard was, "by golly PA is nothing but rocks #rocksylvania #bootkillingstate #itsucks." Personally, imma say that's hella overrated. While rocky, the boulders orient themselves on a delightfully horizontal plane, stretching for hundreds of miles on flat ridgelines, interspersed with fabulous sections of cruiser logging road. This terrain was in great difference to that of the Whites and southern Maine, where the boulder fields tended to be angled more vertically for several thousand feet of continuous climbing. PA was fun! Aside from it being rainy and foggy for four days, that is. I was, however, blessed with one bouldery, slabby descent in a dense fog and hard rain well into the night. The only thing more spicy than that was the highway crossing that followed. But, a few big days meant I got to enjoy brunch with family, who came to meet me on the trail!

The fam unites on a rocky, drippy section of trail in PA.

Pencil-vain-ya throwin down some wet rocks to slip and fall on. I only didn't fall on one day through the 200 plus mile state. More like Penns(FUN)ylvania.

After four days of fog and rain, Pennsylvania decided to reveal its inner beauty.

Seeing my family was a huge morale booster, and sent me cruising towards Duncannon and the historic Doyle Hotel, which has likely seen no changes in sheets/pillows/paint/toilets/anything in 100 years.

Sheets and quilt came pre-stained! My presence made this room cleaner. The single, naked bulb dangling form the ceiling made for excellent ambiance. The springs in the bed even offered a deep massaging, maybe-tetanus-filled night of sleep.

A fine sunset at the confluence of the Susquehannah and Juniata Rivers outside of Duncannon, PA.

While at the Doyle, I downloaded some music to my phone. The discovery of music and a seemingly inexhaustible supply of trailside gas stations and vending machines led to Jeff being transformed into a man flying through the woods giggling in a pop music and caffeine-fueled rage of happiness. The peak of my torrent of woodland ecstasy was when I heard it was going to rain all day the next day, starting at 4:00am. In a stroke of brilliance, I vowed to hike until it started raining. My foolproof plan hinged on what I thought was the inherent certainty of rain. I seem to always forget that I should never trust other hikers with the weather forecast. I had started hiking at 8:00am that day, and made my plans around noon. By 1:00am, I had traveled 43 miles and checked my phone to discover that no, in fact, it was likely not going to rain at all. Oh well. Sometimes my version of "fun ideas" concern me, but then again what a swell day of hiking.

Perks of night hiking? Being one foot from stepping on large rattlesnakes that are also hiking the AT. Sup dude?

What time is it? Check out that beard. Damn, so fine. No patches at all. Impressive.

On October 9th, I rolled into Harper's Ferry rather stoked to have reached the Appalachian Trail Conservancy headquarters and "psychological halfway point" of the trail. But Harper's Ferry really was a neat surprise. Quite frankly, I had not the slightest clue that it was a national park/historic town/tourist spot/major train hub. I was just waddling down the Potomac Canal Path when it was like, "oh, aaaiigghtt, where'd these two thousand peeps come from? Why are they looking at me like I am notably not sane? THERE ARE MILKSHAKES." One can imagine my understandable bewilderment at being dumped into a sea of 21st century suburbanites overrunning a 19th century town. Luckily, said town possessed not only a fake saloon, but a REAL cafe that sold milkshakes. Hats off to the Park Service for making sure the aspects of this park that are not to period contain frozen dairy desserts.

Burger King, the 176th SoBo of the season.

My resupply at Harper's wasn't going to last me to my pickup point in Shenandoah a few days later, so I supplemented my resupply with nutritious and wholesome foods.

Om nom nom.

I arrived at Shenandoah National Park fueled by a most scrumptious bag of "donettes" and a pint of ice cream I purchased that day. The first thing Shenandoah offered me was a brilliantly flat, not rocky, groomer section of trail that had SWITCHBACKS. Who knew switchbacks were still a thing? Super into it. So into it, in fact, that I took a selfie with a flat, boring, buttery-slice-of-heaven-on-earth trail.

The stoke is high.

Since I was in New Hampshire, I have felt like I have been experiencing the changing of the seasons every day. Each day I migrate a little farther south, and it seems like the first day of fall coincides with my daily journey. At this point, the anticipation of a mountainside lit up by autumnal colors is almost unbearable. And Virginia, my dear Virginia, has boosted my spirits by providing at least the mountainsides for such a dreamy fall day. After several hundred miles of glorified hills, it would appear that I have reached the loftier ridge-lines and summits of the southern Appalachians. These peaks are reminiscent of the mountains I left behind in Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine.

¡Bienvenidos a las montañas! Taken on my last morning before being picked up in Shenandoah National Park.

I managed to time my dinner on this night to perfectly coincide with my presence at a westward-facing vista and the setting of the sun. Excellent work, if you ask me. A great first night in the Shenandoah's!

I spent the much of this past week shopping, packing, and beginning to mail the next 40 days or so of maildrops that I will need to fuel me to the end of my trek. The trail feels like a blur when I think back to the first 48 days that I spent on it. But when I reflect on individual days, they are remembered as being filled with wholesome content. Every day I walk. Every day I camp. I wake up and know that I will walk 25 or 30 miles, at least 12 hours, until I decide to plop myself on the ground and do it again. But for nearly 1,300 miles, I have been able to feel the landscape change under my feet, just as the seasons are shifting around me. I'll head back to the trail ready for colder temperatures, but thrilled for brisk days and chilly nights, the kind of late fall days that electrify you and can only result in miles of smiles. Until then, cheers!

One of the first crisp fall days of hiking back in the White Mountains, NH.

Same day as the above photo, on one of the most brilliant evenings I've ever experienced.

A Month and a Wall Map

I ordered a massive cinnamon bun, heap of eggs, mound of pancakes, and pile of hashbrowns from a perky middle-aged woman with greying hair. She called my order out to the cook, who was standing several feet from her and had likely heard my order anyway. I looked around Pete's Place, taking in the small-town Maine atmosphere - an eclectic mix of decorations and people who live in Maine. The decorations consisted largely of hiking paraphernalia and the old Coke signs people associate with garage sales and reality TV shows about garage sales. After ordering, I sat back down at my table with a new friend from the trail, Gold Rush, named so due to his striking resemblance to a man on a reality TV show about gold mining. Gold Rush had hiked half the trail already, but "flipped" to Maine and was now southbounding to where he had previously gotten off the trail. As we waited for our food, I spotted a map of the AT on the wall. To be frank, I was feeling pretty good. I had just emerged from the 100-Mile Wilderness of Maine feeling confident and on top of the world. I had cruised through the first 115 miles of the AT, the most remote stretch of the trail, with few problems. I mean, I had only fallen into one log-studded mud-pit while night hiking in a thunderstorm and stood up and started walking the wrong way on the trail once. And I had only woken up and had to hobble the first 7 miles of the morning for 4 of the 4.5 days due to old-man soreness. And I only had to tape my blistered feet for like, 3 days. That's pretty good in my book. I was now ready to check out my tremendous progress on that there wall map. Oh yeah baby, 115 miles and 4.5 days in, this champ was ready to see the chunk of trail he'd knocked off.

So either the cook dropped ten pounds of pancakes on the flour, or my heart and soul had fallen out of my gaping mouth and hit the floor in a bloody crash reminiscent of the fall of the Roman Empire (y'all know that made a noise)...The cook was silent. Sizzle sizzle. Cool, definitely my heart and soul, good to know. I didn't need those anyway. My mind was wiped of all emotions for a few moments. Then a wave of dread washed over me like I have never felt before. I stared vacantly at the map. My God....I had not moved. I had done 115 miles. I still had about 2065 to go...was the map broken? Nope, that terrible red line sinuously traced its path for three more feet down that damn wall map. I would be being generous if I said I'd gone an inch. This was the moment I realized just what the hell I had gotten myself in to. Then the woman at the counter called out my order and I buried my feelings of self-doubt, trepidation, and mind-numbing horror with several pounds of breakfast foods.

It has been one month since that day. One month and many more pounds of breakfast food (and ice cream and pop tarts). I must say, I have put forth a fine effort to smother my wall map fears with heaps upon heaps of the dream diet of all 11 year old Americans. Snickers are the new granola bar! But, a month has passed, and so too have I progressed a few inches on that wall map. I no longer wretch away from the sight of those ubiquitous maps, but gaze at them in a kind of amused stupor. Damn, there's a lot of adventures packed into those inches. Right now, I'm 871.3 miles from Katahdin. That's like, enough inches of map that I no longer recoil in fear at the sight of a snaking red line and the outlines of every east coast state. But the other few feet do still scare me a little...

My location on the wall maps from hell tells me that I am now I n New Jersey. As someone from Pennsylvania, I contain within myself an intrinsic repulsion for New Jersey (but not the Jersey Shore, that doesn't count as New Jersey). Henceforth, I am baffled by my apparent love for this section of trail. Rolling pastureland, trail side delis, and the fact that I remembered I was carrying a Burger King crown have caused me to actually enjoy the armpit of America. So as I grapple with the realization that my life may in fact be a lie, I shall walk one more day through dirty Jerz and then tumble into the outstretched arms of my home state. I will see my family in 3 days, and hopefully no more wall maps between now and then

Sincerely,

Burger King

Miscellaneous Fun Facts:
- I ate 8 pop tarts in one day for breakfast
- Today I ate 2000 calories of Nutella after going to Dairy Queen
- I hiked until midnight two days in a row to get a package before the post office closed
- The aforementioned post office had lost my package
- Today I ate two raw packages of Ramen Noodles
- I am wearing a Burger King crown right now

Mail is always welcome! Send it here and my momma shall put that mail in my next mail drop package.

Jeff Mogavero (AT)
3036 Robin Lane
Havertown, PA 19083

Words To Live By

***disclaimer*** at the moment there are no photos in this post. I can't seem to figure out how to do that. Hold on a few hot secs (weeks?) and maybe I'll update this with pretty images. But until now, unfortunate reader, you are left with only my words.

I'd like to start my first update about my sojourn on the Appalachian Trail with several moving words that were uttered to me today. Today was a town day. I hitched into Manchester, VT and picked up a resupply box that my mom had mailed me. There is a Ben and Jerry's in this town. I knew that. For four days, I imagined myself gently caressing a waffle cone in my exceptionally clean hands, pressing my tongue against the dense, yet so soft, creamy goodness of Vermont's finest frozen dessert. To my great dismay, and I'm sure all of yours, the dispensary of heaven was...closed. Awash in angst, I stood at a cross roads. In actuality, I stood in the middle of a turning lane in a parking lot faced with a painful dilemma. Mcflurry, or a pint of BJs from the store? I opted to revisit the grocery store and quickly downed 1200 calories of God Himself. Feeling a surge of energy that only 110 grams of sugar can provide, I made my next move. I went to Starbucks.

It is important to note here that I am not a coffee drinker. Coffee shops tend to overwhelm me, as I manage to order incorrectly more often that not. But I have found a safety item over the years: the mocha. Just enough chocolate so I can't taste the coffee, and just enough coffee so I still go nuts. I was bold in that Starbucks today. After ordering, the woman that made my beverage proclaimed these life-changing words, "salted caramel mocha frappuccino!"
Why, why oh why, has no one ever introduced me to this concoction? It's as if a mocha made love to a milkshake and their child was so pristine in demanded to be topped with whipped cream, caramel, and salt. I will now be craving this beverage (food? Meal? Dessert? Nirvana?) for the next 1650 miles. It is also now abundantly clear to myself that I am still quite under the influence of caffeine as I watch the sun set and storm clouds roll in over Manchester.

But I think this is an update of my time on the trail. In a way, I have captured much of my life in the above two paragraphs. Due to the timing of my hike, I rarely hike with other humans. I see plenty, but largely just to say a quick "hello" and make small talk. Henceforth, I am able to very thoroughly think things over in my head. Just two afternoons ago I spent a few hours planning a future homestead, all the way down to the apple varieties I would plant to how my future partner and I would have to give up our cozy bed and move into the loft of the cabin when my elderly parents (can I say that? Let's be real by the time I have a home you two will be at least 90) come to visit.

As I reflect on my first 22 days of life of the AT, I can report in good confidence that the trail is going well. I have met countless incredible people, and some pretty weird ones too. I'm usually hiking by 6:30am and call it a day around 7pm if I'm at a good spot, or put on my headlight and do some night hiking until I get to a better one. Maine and New Hampshire were absolute joys to travel through on foot. Both states were filled with some fabulous scrambles, wide-open alpine traverses, and steep, wet slabs. Vermont so far is seriously producing some top-notch moments. Every road crossing I eagerly anticipate the potential to sample a probably-sour-but-maybe-not apple. Every climb means that at mid elevations, I may be able to feast on blackberries. And ya never know, sometimes you can detour to the summit of a ski resort and pay $8.00 for a cookie and ice cream sandwich (damn you Killington and your over-priced rubbish plastic-tasting cookies).

I'm starting to hear some thunder rumbling in the distance. Wait nope that's a plane. Yup, definitely a plane. Either way, this was an exhausting entry to tap out on my dang phone. The caffeine is definitely wearing off. But! I have some M&M's that must be consumed In several gleeful moments of chocolate ecstasy waiting for me by my tarp.

Sincerely yours,
Salted Caramel Mocha Frappuccino

p.s. I'll write again when properly over-caffeinated and sugar high
p.s.s. Thanks for the mail! Letters are always welcome :)

neAT things

A delightful fall day two years ago, climbing the Chapel Pond Slab in the Adirondacks.

Fall is right around the corner. I like fall. Pretty colors. Sweater and jeans weather. Time to head back to school, have an apple sauce making workshop, and acquire lots of knowledge. But time marches on, and I'm not headed back to school this year. But I'm pretending I am. After a good long drive home in Genny the Great White Buffalo (my dearest home) and sleeping in only two sketchy Walmart parking lots (North Dakota wasn't bad, but my god, avoid Indiana Walmarts at midnight at all costs...fascinating creatures lurk within their fluorescently-lit depths), I'm back in Pennsylvania. Back in PA, but headed to Maine right now. In an effort to pretend I haven't graduated, I'll be following fall down the east coast along the Appalachian Trail in what I'm thinking of as "domestic study abroad program."

My backyard/personal river/outdoor kitchen/shower/bathroom/living room while I lived in Genny in the fine Lander City Park, WY.

Doing the AT has been on my mind for more than a few years. Going north in PA to ski or visit relatives always meant a journey through the perilously long and forebodingly dark Lehigh Tunnel. Holding your breath as you flew through the dimly lit tunnel was required. But the landscape that the tunnel went under began to mean more to me when I was 13 or 14. I learned that the Appalachian Trail, some mystical footpath that I was like, long or something, ran over the ridge top of the mountain that my beloved Lehigh Tunnel cut through. I didn't really understand what the AT was for quite a few years. But I knew it was long and on top of the dang Lehigh Tunnel.

Trail running on the AT on Kittatinny Ridge (aka the big thing that the Lehigh Tunnel goes through) last December. Classic PA move, this is also a Superfund site. But this run ended with some mushroom foraging and brunch with friends. Into it.

As I got older and began adventuring outside a bit more, I began to understand what the AT was. But fundamentally, I was right. It was definitely long and definitely on top of the dang Lehigh Tunnel. It's also pretty darned neat. And for those that know me, you know that I like neat things. Like moss and fungi. I mean, how cool are mycorrhizae, let's be real? Anywho, a neat summer has concluded, and the search for new neatness has led me back to the AT. I think that hiking 2,200 miles from Maine to Georgia through the fabulous Appalachian Mountains is a pretty neat way to spend one's time on earth. That being said, like anything worth doing, hiking the AT will be damn hard, I'm sure. I am fully aware that the AT is no walk in the park (it's a walk in the woods), and that I will likely be uber hungry/lonely/tired/desolate/exhausted/in general pain/chaffed/sweaty/etc far more than usual. But I like to think the neatest of things require those attributes, or else they're really not that neat...someone remind me I said that at some point in the near future... But hiking the AT feels really good right now. Somewhat like the nip in the air when you're wrapped up in a cozy wool sweater as the leaves begin to turn. But I won't be pursuing my usual human life clad in wool and flannel this fall. I'm thrilled to be putting on a wool sweater a little bigger than myself, frolicking with fall down the spine of the Appalachians, conspicuously aware that the icy hand of winter is ready to pull me into the snow if I dilly-dally too much.

If you're looking for me the next ~3 months, I'll be galavanting through the great eastern forests. Seeing as I'm on the east coast, I imagine I'll have cell service quite often. I think I'll be fairly in-touch with folks if need be, and try to post updates here as I can. Depends how much I am able to tolerate tapping things out on that there little itty bitty iPhone screen. We'll see what happens... BUT I would love to hear from you! My oh-so-kind mother (mom you rock) will be mailing me food/supplies throughout my journey, which I will pick up every few days. So, if you mail a letter to my home address, my mom will pop it into my next mail drop. Like I said, I'll probs be sad and lonely at times, so I'd love to see writing from friendly people. Drop me a note here:***

Jeff Mogavero (AT)

3036 Robin Lane

Havertown, PA 19083

***be SURE to write "(AT)" or else my mom won't put it in a mail drop!

Thanks for all the support of recent adventures. I sure do hope to have a neat time out there. Wish me luck!

Much love,

Jeff "I'm obviously bringing glitter" Mogavero

See you kweens on the trail #stayspicy. (pc: the admirable Jacob Taswell)

Never Summer 100k Race Recap

Here's my attempt at resurrecting this blog thang. I never ended up writing a post for the Vermont 50 (in September) or Boston Marathon (in April), but I had such a blast at Never Summer that I had to write something.

For the first time in a long time, I actually came into a race prepared and ready to roll. Having graduated college in May, I no longer had to balance full time studying with full time partying AND full time training. My attempt of doing that for Boston left me perpetually tired, battling injury, and hungover more often than not. Since graduation in late May, I've focused much more on training and longer days in the mountains now that I'm living out in Lander, WY. In short, I'd put in some big days and higher mileage and drank less. But dancing still counts as cross training. Wahoo!

Living in Lander has meant a few great sojourns into the high country of the Wind River Range. This is Wind River Peak (13,192'). About a 30 mile round-trip jaunt, but I missed a turn and made it 36 or so. Ooops.

The Never Summer 100k is a stunning 64.2 mile loop course with 14,000 feet of elevation gain and loss in the Never Summer and Medicine Bow Mountains of Colorado. It's known for having some tricky navigating, soaking wet sections, off-trail travel, and a few brutal climbs. I got down to Colorado over the 4th of July weekend and was able to preview about 50 miles of the race with some other folks. Boy am I glad I did, it was so nice to know what was coming!

I camped out the night before with Evan, another intern at NOLS, Mark, a runner I met when previewing the course, and Amanda, who recently moved to Lander from Mark's stomping grounds of Steamboat Springs. Mark and I carpooled to the start around 4:00am, and Evan slept in, planning to meet me at the mile 18 aid station and crew for me throughout the day. I had never had a crew before, so I was super stoked to see what it would be like racing with someone ready to lend a hand at aid stations.

The race started at 5:30am, and about 275 of us set off for a fabulous day in the mountains! I tried to show as much restraint in my pacing as I could for the first 18 miles, knowing that the steepest and most brutal climb of the day started right after the mile 18 aid station. I ran for awhile with Elijah, another person I met at the course preview weekend. Eventually I caught up to Gabe, a Lander local, and found out that we were the two frontrunners. Whoops! I hadn't meant to go out that fast, and rolled into the mile 18 aid station in the front pack and met Evan to swap out trash for more gels and take off my singlet.

Delicious singletrack in the American Lakes basin (~mile 12), just north of Rocky Mountain National Park.

Leaving the aid station, I took it very easy and did not push at all up the precipitous climb to the summit of North Diamond Peak (11,852'), the high point of the course. I think I dropped back to 8th place or so, and slowly worked to catch folks over the next 20 miles. I was only carrying one 20-ounce handheld, and found my hydration slipping. I love the way yellow pee has begun to terrify me. Miles 23-39 I focused on guzzling as much water and salts as I could to get back on track. I also found that anytime I approached 10,500 feet or so, I got a throbbing headache. Unfortunately, I was at that elevation for awhile.

The climb up North Diamond (mile ~20) is worth it. The views and ridge running are both spectacular.

This was looking down to Kelly Lake on July 3rd. Come race day, this pass (~mile 33) was totally clear of snow.

I bee-bopped through the race until mile 50, the Canadian Aid Station, where the realization that I could still get to the finish in under 13 hours lit a fire under my butt. With almost all of the 14,000 feet of climbing already in my legs and behind me, I cruised (or at least it felt like this, but I probably wasn't moving very fast) to the Bockman Aid Station (mile 55.8), deliriously took some gels and hydration things from Evan, guzzled a cup of coke, and then took off for the finish. I'd stumbled my way into 4th place at this point, as some other folks were having rough stomach issues they had to deal with. I pushed as hard as I possibly could, running almost all of the terrain in this last stretch. I hit the final aid station at mile 62 and threw down another cup of Coke and took off at what felt like a sprint. I could smell the finish line and wanted to be done. Fast.

On the two miles of winding, wide, buffed trail back to the Gould Community Center and finish line, I cruised as fast as I could. I passed the 3rd place runner with about a mile to go, at this point moving very quickly. Crossing the line after 12 hours and 51 minutes was incredible, and I couldn't have been happier with my race performance. Gabe ended up holding on to the lead for the win, followed closely by Chris, who I had shared a few miles with. As always, I'm amazed at how incredible the ultrarunning community is - there was a beer and fried potatoes in my hands before I could even realize how tired I was. What an excellent day in the mountains! Full results here.

On Sunday, the top three were presented with awesome engraved axes and I also got an award for being the youngest runner. Huge congrats to everyone who made it through a wonderful day in the mountains! Shout out to Evan for being a kick-ass crew person, and thanks to all the volunteers that made this race so amazing. Super amped to race again and spend a lot of the next year focused on training. Maybe I'll even post on this bloggy thang some more.

Myself with second place finisher Chris Schurk (12:30:33) and winner Gabe Joyes (12:29:21, new course record!) wielding our axes.