The Great Smoky Mountains Marathon

May 7, 2026

Lured by the prospect of completing the Smokies and returning to my truck, I attempt to beat my daily mileage record. But I may be the one who ends up crushed.

There is no rest for the weary

RAin hit the Icewater Spring shelter all night. Fortunately it wasn’t annoying. The other 4 hikers also slept peacefully. I should have slept well but I didn’t. I think the harsh conditions of yesterday’s hike took a toll on my feet and legs. I needed them to be still but they were restless. I felt like I couldn’t stay in any position for more than a few minutes before I was yelled at to move to the other side or to my stomach. I was probably the loudest hiker that night with all the moves I made. An inspection of my sleeping pad revealed that I had slid horizontally about 2 feet from where I started the night.

I woke up with the other hikers around 6:30am. I checked the forecast, it was the same as yesterday, no rain expected today. It was clear for a hard day of walking. You could easily make it 20 miles to the Cosby Knob Shelter. The next day would be 10 miles from the park, then an 11 mile round trip hike to Snowbird Peak and back. That would be enough to open a zero the next day.

But I wanted to aim higher. The last 10 miles out of the Smokies were mostly downhill. What if I go crazy and do a 30 mile day? If I got to my truck, there would be no need to worry about camping on a trail or in a shelter. You could sleep in with an easy 11 mile hike the next day and enjoy a day off. I checked out FarOut and was dismayed to see that despite the long descent out of the park, there were plenty of climbs along the 5,000-foot trail. This would be a long day.

Perfectly clear conditions at the Icewater Spring shelter.

head first

I left the shelter before 8:00 am Hoping for a clear day, I tied my poncho to the top of my bag. I immediately thought of The Unhinged Hiker, Sparkle Summits, and Peg Leg, as I do quite often on the trails. They do 30 mile journeys practically every day regardless of the conditions. I know I’m not as much of a hiker as they are, but I felt confident that I could get in a good 30 mile day run. I would see what it was like to walk a mile (or 30) in their shoes.

Along the way, I was disappointed to see that overnight rain had left the AT in a sorry state. Just like yesterday, puddles and streams were the order of the day. I couldn’t tell if it was raining or not. Any view from the trail was shrouded in clouds, the air thick with fog or possible drizzle. The road was not getting drier. I was giving everything I had to maintain a sustainable but fast pace. My trekking poles hit the trail haphazardly. A consequence of the faster pace was that I had to place my poles further in front of me. I couldn’t always read the trail fast enough to find a decent place to aim. He probably looked less like he was walking and more like he was having a seizure.

This is what I was dealing with.

Forget the forecast

There were signs that conditions could improve. During the first few viewpoints I found, I could see further and further away. Around 10:00 am that trend reversed. The clouds appeared again. He was walking through them, enveloped in the misty air. It wasn’t hard enough to soak my clothes and I had no desire to stop walking until I collapsed or got to my truck. I kept imagining the forecast in my head. No rain is expected, only clouds. In the end it had to be clarified, right?

I kept walking and waiting for signs of dry conditions. Rather, the opposite seemed to be happening. The further north I went, the more it looked like it might be actively raining. Besides the fact that I was basically in the clouds, the trees lining the trail were collecting water and dripping it all over me. The falls became more frequent, I began to get frustrated at the lack of promised improvement in conditions. At three in the afternoon I had to admit that it was already raining. I stopped to put on my poncho and discovered that my backpack was already damp.

Getting lighter at the beginning of the day.

Looking down the path towards Charles Bunion.

After all, it doesn’t seem to be any clearer.

The trail reaches the edge at Charles Bunion.

Descending into chaos

The rain progressively worsened. With it came the deterioration of trail conditions. The puddles turned into streams and soon I was back in the same mess as yesterday morning. The trail was rocky and left the water nowhere to go. He might as well have been walking in a river. Again I had to straddle the path to prevent the water from soaking my shoes. Anyway, it didn’t take long for that to happen. At some points the path was again a few inches wide with pods of tall grass on either side. If my shoe touched a bit of grass, water would get in and misery would ensue. I was having a hard time keeping a steady pace as I tried to find the least bad place to step. Many times I thought I would see a safe place only to place my foot and discover that the water had pooled out of sight. Dry socks were a distant memory.

Regardless, I was going about 3 miles per hour. I could be back at my truck between 6 and 7 pm Any thought of stopping at the shelter left my mind. I went down the path. Miles 20-27 were the hardest. The path was completely submerged. I continued to try to keep the worst of it out of my shoes, which only served to put additional stress on my joints as I rocked back and forth along the trail. The check steps that were meant to make the trail easier to climb were too slippery for me to step on. You could lubricate an engine with wet check steps from the Appalachian Trail.

A brief glimpse between the clouds.

A mountain slope shrouded in clouds.

The clouds close the road again.

Mountains barely visible through the clouds.

A great view of the clouds dancing over the mountains.

The only time I saw a blue sky until I left the Smokies.

The water gushes directly from the rocks next to the AT.

Sweet Relief

Around mile 27 the trail conditions changed abruptly. The puddles and streams had disappeared. In fact, the sun peeked slightly through the clouds. The trail surface was no longer predominantly rocky, it was now a gradual slope of packed dirt. Either the water ran off the path before it could form a puddle, or the rainwater had simply soaked into the path. Whatever the case, I was able to travel the trail much more normally.

This experience reminded me of the rocks I found at Grayson Highlands State Park. I’m no geologist, but I believe that at any high point most of the earth ends up being washed away, leaving a predominantly rocky surface. Once I got down far enough, there was enough dirt to evenly grade the trail, which is infinitely more hiker-friendly.

The trail winds through the humid pine forest.

An AT fire flanks the trail through the forest.

Dry and lick the wounds

Finally, after more than 11 straight hours of walking, I made it to my minivan. I mustered enough willpower to filter 2 liters of water a night. Taking off my wet shoes and socks, I revealed my feet, which looked like two huge, pale raisins. I used my towel to dry them. I smeared a triple antiseptic ointment on the back of my heel. For some reason, after walking over 400 miles in these shoes, they decided to vigorously rub my heel today.

I checked my gear to see what was wet. Luckily, everything was dry except my “waterproof” bear hanging bag. It hadn’t been soaked, but everything inside was damp. The material is thin and translucent, so the bag is light. However, it doesn’t seem to stay waterproof when hanging outside in the rain overnight for about 12 hours. The only items in the bag were my food, which was also packed. Therefore, the food itself was fine. I remembered my seven days in the great Smoky Mountains National Park, especially the last two days, as my legs and feet recovered from their ordeal.

Reflecting on smoked foods

If you had told me on Monday that I would walk the 96 miles in four days, including 52 miles in wet conditions, I would have called you crazy. In 7 days in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, I averaged 21.2 miles per day. I feel like I’m a much stronger hiker now that I made it through in one piece.

-See you tomorrow

Total: 48 kilometers, 61,353 steps

• Hike type: Backpacking
• Campground: Minivan, Pigeon River Trailhead

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