Since my water was nearly full, I only took a few swigs from the water fountain as I passed it at the campground. Had I known that both Crystal and Kennedy Creeks would be dry, I would have topped off. I began rationing my water and worried if Sawmill Creek would have any water. I knew there was no water source at the Section 13 campsite and didn’t have another water source marked on my map for another ten miles. Although I had scouted this section, I couldn’t recall the size of Sawmill Creek. I was hopeful that since we ran on the road for a few hundred meters that the creek was big enough to warrant a bridge. I decided even if there was no water, I wouldn’t let this end my journey. I could pee into my water bottles if needed. I ran out of water prior to Sawmill Dome. From Sawmill Dome I still had about a mile to Sawmill Creek. But where was Sawmill Dome? It seemed to take forever, but eventually I made it to Sawmill Dome where I began to notice the leaves changing. I had never seen this much color by Labor Day weekend, but the dry summer was taking its toll. I was too worried about water to fully enjoy the colors and had a sigh of relief when I could see water in Sawmill Creek below. Despite mainly descending, the final mile took an eternity.
When I got to Sawmill Creek, both sides of the road were in full sun, not what I needed to cool off. I quickly filled my water bottle and guzzled and opted to gamble and head further down the SHT where a smaller branch of Sawmill Creek crossed the trail. My gamble worked and I had the perfect flow of water to lie in. But within a minute of arriving another hiker came, which squelched my plans at the oasis. He asked if I was hiking for a few days and I replied with a dazed single word. It was obvious he and his friend would be there awhile, so after a few minutes I felt I had been too curt and I began a conversation. After lying in the water for several minutes guzzling and filtering water, I felt much better. Unfortunately this area was so shaded, there was no where I could lay out my shoes to dry out from my sweaty feet. I was shocked again as I looked at my watch and saw another hour had passed while I was stopped. But it was much needed, I now was rehydrated, refueled, and cooled. As I hoisted on my pack, my dry bag slipped off and I groaned. One of the hikers offered to give me a hand to resecure it so I wouldn’t need to doff and don my pack again. I thanked him for the offer and said I’d take him up in any other circumstance except that I couldn’t for my unsupported FKT attempt. I headed out and made good time to the Section 13 campsite where my family had backpacked for the first time back in early June.
Priority water
The next 29 miles would be a mystery of what to expect, since this was another unscouted section. I was pleasantly surprised to reach a bog where I carefully dunked my head without getting any of my gear wet. Then I got on the sketchiest bridge – wobbly, at a camber, and elevated. I breathed a sigh of relief upon reaching the other end. The next boardwalk had just been built and it went on forever, what a contrast! Again, the heat was getting to me, so I switched to Tailwind, took regular electrolytes, and cooled in water whenever possible. The next water source was my top priority. I gave each lake a new adjective: “refreshing” when I could cool off, “tantalizing” when it was inaccessible hundreds of feet below, and “tempting” when it was located a short walk off the main trail. I developed a routine of guzzling water, filtering water, and eating cookies as I laid in any water to cool.
After dunking into the East Branch Baptism River, I dreaded a similar outcome as my backpacking trip in May 2008. I was on the same section of the trail at the same time of day, about an hour prior to sunset. We had reached a mucky area and I forgot I had the weight of my pack and landed with my knee on the rock I had attempted to hop onto. I knew immediately I needed stiches but didn’t want to cut the trip short. Instead, I halfway cleaned the gash and we camped and did some day hiking the next morning before heading back a day early. I had never needed stitches before but soon the doctor educated me that I had done everything wrong. Not only did I fail to adequately get the dirt out of the wound, but waited 24 hours prior to getting stiches, which was a big no-no. The doctor lectured me and told me I’d be absolutely screaming as he scrubbed my knee like a crusty pot had he not numbed it. He did an excellent job, and I never got an infection. My scar still reminds me how lucky I was. During the FKT, this area was still mucky, despite a dry summer, but my trekking poles helped me to stay upright and unscathed…whew!
The entrance into George Crosby Manitou State Park offered a fast road section as night fell and I passed a full parking lot of backpackers’ vehicles. At first the trail was fast, but turned gnarly as I descended to the Manitou River. I was happy to find a safe place above the falls to fill my water. I would like to visit again in the daytime to see the gorge…it sounded powerful. I was feeling good with a little help from a dose of caffeine, so I continued into the darkness. I was running low on water but knew the Caribou River was coming and I planned to fill up at the bridge just as I had done at all the other rivers. Wrong. The river raged into a gorge dropping tens of feet below. Clearly, I wouldn’t be filling my water. I opted to not backtrack to the campsite I passed a quarter of a mile earlier for water since there were several creeks in the next few miles. I got into a good hiking rhythm, although I wondered if I should be pushing my running pace with the flat terrain. First Crystal Creek was dry then so was the next. There was a campsite at Sugarloaf Pond and I decided that I’d better take the spur trail to the water. I put the water in my flask but didn’t filter anything to risk clogging up my filter. Since there was a tent pad open, although dusty, I decided to sleep rather than risk sleeping in a patch of poison ivy. I didn’t notice any mosquitos, but the second I laid down they were buzzing in my ears. Mosquitos soon found the smallest opening into my bivy. I struggled to adjust the bug net to prevent any openings into my bivy over the next couple of hours to no avail. I figured I’d eventually block out the mosquitos and decided not to take the time to pack back up and find a better campsite (this was the only time I noticed mosquitos all day!).
I finally gave up at dawn without a moment of sleep and packed up as the mosquitos dissipated. All my gear was covered in dust. As I left my terrible campsite, I was 95 hours into my journey, just shy of 200 miles with only about four hours of sleep following two unsuccessful sleep attempts. I didn’t want to filter and drink the pond water, so I continued down the trail with scant calories since I didn’t have anything to wash it down. Once again, I made an extra stop after forgetting to unzip my pants to prevent overheating in the coolest part of the day. I was relieved to find water at Dyers Creek 3 ½ miles later. I wished I had pushed on longer into the night and stayed at a better campsite. I was back on a 13 mile section of trail I had scouted and thoroughly enjoyed the trimmed hazelbrush instead of juking like a running back avoiding being snapped in the face with hazelbrush to progress down the trail like last time.
I assessed my food and knew I had plenty to reach to the end. In fact, I tried to tell myself to eat more so I didn’t need to carry the extra weight. Before reaching Temperance River State Park, I was already struggling with the heat and needed to cool my core temperature before proceeding on. I met tons of day hikers since it was now Sunday of Labor Day weekend including the only hikers that failed to follow the rule on the SHT to leash their dog and the dog repeatedly bolted ahead of me while the owner called it back. I nearly collapsed into the water, but shade was minimal. After an hour cooling, drying my feet, and refueling, I felt better. I had an awkward moment as my pack snagged onto a tree branch as I returned to the trail. A passerby offered to help but I declined and didn’t have the resolve to explain that I couldn’t accept aid. I struggled like a deer with antlers snagged in a thicket, but I managed to untangle myself.
As I climbed out of the river valley, I realized I had made a huge mistake by leaving the river with dry clothes. Within a mile, I was overheating. I passed oodles of hikers climbing to Carlton Peak. I dreaded getting into the exposed sections under the full sun but took solace in the gentle breeze and that I wouldn’t be taking the spur trail to the summit. The next six miles were unscouted and the uncertainty of water gnawed at me. I longed to guzzle my water but realizing how much I had been drinking, I worried about deadly hyponatremia. At this point, I wasn’t sure if heat exhaustion, hyponatremia, or sleep deprivation was the root cause for my state. I feared that I’d pass out on the trail. IF I rebounded with the assistance of a hiker, I wouldn’t be able to continue the FKT as unsupported. I pulled out potato chips to munch on and took my rationed electrolytes diligently. I longed to sit in cool water and guzzle my water. Even after stopping to do so, one mile later I wasn’t much better off. I convinced myself to push on in the dazed state. I audibly would say, “It tastes so good,” every time I guzzled water. With the heat, I wondered if I should switch my sleep strategy to cover more miles in the darkness. I frequently stopped a to listen for water flowing ahead.
I fantasized about napping in the cool water of the Onion River under the shade of the bridge. When I arrived, I positioned rocks so I wouldn’t drown if I fell asleep. After pouring in mouthfuls of potato chips while my core cooled and my feet dried, I heard a family of hikers coming. I sat up so they didn’t think I was dead. One person suggested they filter water and I dreaded my refuge being intruded upon. Luckily the rest of the clan had plenty of water to share and continued on without noticing me. Although I felt I could fall asleep, the water was a bit too cool for me dose off, so I soaked a few more minutes and exited the water shivering.
I was back on a seven mile segment I had scouted to Lutsen ski resort and heating up again just a few miles later. The climbs weren’t as bad as I remembered, the shade offered relief, and water was more frequent than I expected. I wondered how bustling the Lutsen ski resort was on this holiday weekend, because other than a road crossing, there was no indication of civilization. Even though I hadn’t scouted the next five miles to Agnes Lake, I expected it to be hilly in the shadow of the ski resort. The hills only lasted a mile or two and soon I was enjoying another dunk in the cascades of the Poplar River. Even though this was the last hour of daylight, I wasn’t going to miss out on refilling my water like the night before at the Caribou River. I wasn’t happy with myself when I spilled my full filtered water bottle, but told myself it was only three minutes lost. As I left, I noticed my Garmin inReach Mini had deactivated. I reactivated it, but within minutes I had another error message. After repeating a few times, I decided that my husband wouldn’t be tracking me through the night anyways, and I’d try again in the morning. Not the security blanket I had planned on as sleep deprivation was taking hold. Night fell and I was moving good at first, but soon I needed my headlamp on the brightest setting to move the pace I wanted to, which was ok since this was the final night I had expected to be on the trail. I had adequate batteries but preferred not to charge them, so I adjusted my light settings down when I headed uphill. At least it kept my mind occupied. I stopped to sign the registry at what I assumed was a beautiful overlook above Agnes Lake but only had darkness to gaze at. When I hit the next intersection where I had ended a 30 mile scouting run, I thought about cooling off in Lake Agnes, but decided it wasn’t worth it due to mosquitos swarming, the water looking like old bathwater, and it only being a few inches deep.
Suddenly, my headlamp felt dim and I could no longer process rocks and roots fast enough. I began to struggle cognitively. Running the headlamp on high power helped and I became more alert when I got to Cascade River State Park. I had a sense of urgency since I expected this would be my last night, so I filled my flask and filtered as I hiked up the hill to save time. Although I had scouted this section, I had gone on the other side of the river and was in for a surprise at the contrast of the ruggedness of the west side of the river. I had thought about doing the eight mile hike with our kids and was very glad my husband convinced me not to. Frequently, I wondered if I was on a volunteer trail since blazes were sparse. The bridge near Cut Log campsite was out and as I scrambled up the hillside I needed to bushwhack back onto the trail. Without the GPS I may have struggled to find the trail in the dark and my sleep-deprived state.
I pushed until early morning before succumbing to sleep, but still managed to wake up before my alarm. Although I had fallen a bit off pace, I was still optimistic that I’d be able to reach the Northern Terminus today. In hindsight, the only way I was covering as many miles as I was had been due to my lack of sleep…which was about to catch up to me. I had covered nearly 250 miles over five days but was operating on less sleep than I normally had in a single night. Most of this section was pretty nondescript, but I did make the mistake of seeing an approaching backpacker and still stepping onto the elevated boardwalk above a marsh. Luckily, she didn’t get hurt or mad at me as we awkwardly passed. Later, I managed 13 minute miles on the North Shore State Snowmobile Trail, thanks to a recent mowing. Although I was moving fast, I was happy to get back on the variety of the singletrack.
Power saver mode
Approaching the Pincushion Trailhead just outside of Grand Marais, I desperately needed to cool off. I looked at the map and there were a few possible water sources before Devil Track River, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I was thrilled to find a small reentrant with water flowing. I guzzled and cooled my core but was alarmed to see how early in the day I was already suffering from the heat. It would be a long day, and not my last on the trail.
