55.5K and Smiles in Pisgah Forest

Pisgah Forest has a very unique characteristic common to its visitors.  Almost every person you come across in Pisgah is smiling.  It is easy to smile in Pisgah, and smiles were abundant at the Pisgah 55.5K mountain bike race.  The weekend brought buckets of rain, and yet racers braved the elements and came out for their own personal journeys and personal experiences of smiling while trudging through the mud, rain and elements.  The thing about Pisgah Production races is that they are more of a cultural event and an experience instead of a race.  A rider commonly experiences things like inspiration, mental breakthroughs, moments of deep reflection, personal achievement, mental fortitude, and moments of pure joy.  Eric Wever, the race director, and I chatted about the race and he said that helping people create these reflective, breakthrough moments is why he organizes races.  Afterall, a person must be after something if they would go into the woods willingly climbing 8100 feet in 35 miles of mostly single-track, and riding all day in less than ideal conditions.  My own journey was definitely one filled with all the above mentioned emotions and experiences.

Right away we started up Black Mountain trail and the pack quickly spread out.  I was feeling really good and rode with my friend Patrick at a good pace up Black and settled into the hike-a-bike to Turkey Pen.  My legs were feeling fresh and I seemed to be walking easily up the hill.  We pushed through the hike-a-bike to Turkey Pen and started the super sketchy descent.  I was flashing back to my days in Colorado and imagined I was skiing on a run at Crested Butte or Vail.  The two-inch layer of soup was really slick and descending felt more like carving big giant slalom turns in the snow instead of riding a mountain bike.  What a rollercoaster ride that section was.  At the end of Turkey Pen, I came up to an out of towner and told him to have fun on the last mile which was smooth and fast, but be careful of the waterbars at the end.  Famous last words.  I was feeling very confident because of the new rebuilt Fox fork I just got and was ripping the last mile.  I hit the waterbars way too hot, and endoed really hard on the last turn.  My full body weight came down on my bar end and dug deep into my left thigh with incredible force.  I figured I was fine and rolled into aid station one.  My leg hurt, but I figured in five minutes it would be fine.  I stopped quickly for a new Infinite bottle, lubed up the chain and I was off.  The pain in my thigh started getting worse with each peddle rotation and I knew I was in for a long day of sore and painful muscles.  Bradley Creek was next and it was quite the mud fest.  Wow, it was really thick in places!  I crashed again on the big washed out gully on Bradley, but I made it onto 5015 and started the long climb to 1206.  I usually can crank this section at a good pace, but it was evident my leg was getting worse by the minute.  I slowed my pace and knew I would have to settle into a grind it out pace instead of race pace.  I lost a few spots on this climb.  Luckily, at aid station two, someone had Advil and I took some to get my mind off of the pain.  Next up was Laurel and I made it up to the top right when the afternoon thunderstorm hit.  It was pretty wild with the thunder and torrential downpour on Laurel.  It was like the heavens unleashed a raging torrent of water and it all was being unleashed on top of the mountain.  I started down Pilot and witnessed something I have never seen before.  The trail was a complete river and you literally could not see the trail at times.  The mass of water was flowing straight down the trail and all you could see were a few rocks sticking out like lost islands in a sea of chaos.  I was laughing it up the whole time, and thinking this is crazy!!  I knew my brakes were getting trashed, and sure enough about half way down Pilot, my back brake was gone.  The front brake was working very minimally, and that was interesting to say the least.  I rode it out as far as I could and had a few holy s*** moments where I was not slowing down and heading straight for drop offs, boulders, roots and general carnage.  I started to walk it out just before the rock garden.  I made it to 1206 safely and headed straight to the aid station.  I brought some brake pads and Chad, who just the day before had rebuilt my fork, graciously replaced my back brake pad so I could safely make it down Black.  Sure enough the pad was worn to the metal spring and we were laughing about that as well.  The front pad had just enough life to get me to the finish.  I settled into a steady pace and rode out South Mills and made it to the hike-a-bike on Black.  I actually passed a few riders and it was nice to talk with someone a little while.  Mostly, the day was a solo adventure and company is nice during these jaunts.  I made it to the hike-a-bike, knowing I was almost finished and looking forward to the fun descent off Black with a new brake pad.  My leg was throbbing bad with each step up Black, but a weird thing happened.  I just accepted the pain knowing in my mind that it was just part of the process.  It hurt like hell, but I knew I was alive and I knew I could make it.  Your mind pushes you forward in these moments and it was doing just that, willing me forward to a place of acceptance and learning.  Pain is not really that bad, and it helps you to realize that you are living and experiencing what you are really capable of doing.  It would have been easy to give up way back at 1206 when I got to the top of 5015, but I was determined to push through and find the courage and strength inside of me to keep the grind going.  Being alone in Pisgah with the quiet, the mud, the wind, the rain, the sun, and all the life, helps you to reflect and to dig deep.  I was experiencing breakthrough moments in my abilities to move forward and I was experiencing joy in action.  Cresting the top of Black was like going through a door at a carnival.  Warning, single-track bliss to follow.  The next four miles was pure, unadulterated fun on human-powered wings.  The trail descends in technical, rock infused, rooty mountain bike heaven, and my game was on.  I felt like I was flying.  The last two miles the trail smooths out and you can rip it like a luge course competitor in the winter Olympics.  Fun flow and smooth descending all the way to the finish.  I never get tired of that stretch of trail.  The woods opened up and I saw the finish line and crossed to a band of applause like I had won a stage at the Tour de France.  I pumped my fist and smiled ear to ear, and immediately grabbed a burrito and a beer, PBR of course.  I finished the race midpack, and yet this day was really not a race, but a shared experience of joy, pain, belief in one’s abilities, and the power of human determination.  Afterall, in Pisgah, smiles are a guarantee, not an option.

http://pisgahmountainbikeadventures.com/

Breaking Down the Limits

Going down Clawhammer Road, image by BradO

It has been three days, and I am still reeling in the excitement and wonder which is PMBAR.  The Pisgah Mountain Bike Adventure Race is not just a race, it is an experience, a state of mind, or for me a journey into new possibilities and new states of understanding.  May 5th, 2012, will forever be etched into my head as the day biking changed for me.  I experienced new levels of awareness, and new states of mental fortitude I have never come close to achieving in the past in my many adventures.  I experienced a level of precision this day between my body, bike and mind that comes a few times in your lifetime.  It was one of complete unison with the machine, body and mind that was hard to describe, except that it was like being completely lost in the moment of action.  The miles floated by and I did not even feel them.  Thoughts were very minimal, and a natural instinct of movement and rhythm filled my mental space.  Hills did not seem to phase me and I just kept peddling and ticking off the miles, which strangely did not seem to be that hard.  I even wanted to go faster, but held back for fear of bonking and losing the momentum.  Where was all this coming from?  Deep in my head I was pulling out new limits of possibilities and drawing forth strength and resolve I was not aware of before.  Eric Wever, the race promoter, later told me that the reason he does this race is so people could have these breakthrough experiences.  I was having one of these moments and pushing though pre-conceived limitations.  I knew I could do about 60 miles comfortably, but when we got to 70 and I still felt strong, I was rewriting my personal limits and expectations.  At the end of the day we went 80 miles, with 9755 feet of climbing, in nine hours and forty-three minutes of ride time.  I broke my personal best on the bike by 30 miles and I felt like I could have gone farther.  PMBAR like I said is an experience.  It started with breakfast that morning at 6am with my group of biking friends casually eating their meals.  Each person must have felt a tinge of nervousness, which I know I did.  Normally, I like to get to a race about an hour and a half before the start, but my veteran PMBAR friends said to relax and not worry about the time.  This is PMBAR, it is different.  Upon arriving an hour later at the start I soon realized they were right.  The relaxed vibe was so thick it was like peanut butter and jam.  People were casually talking and laughing, there was even a woman dressed in a fox costume.

Image by BradO

She was the one who later gave us our passports for stamping our checkpoints, and at the end of the race a much deserved beer and burrito.  How many races give you a beer right when you finish?  How cool is that?  The next reminder that this race was different was at the start.  Eric gives us our maps and then casually says your passports are at Pressley Gap, a long three-mile or so climb up Black Mountain trail.  All 200 racers let out a half laugh and sigh and started the slow climb.  The climb was classic with 200 people.  We were laughing and talking and building our resolve and commaderie as we climbed as one on this crazy quest we had embarked upon.  Forty five minutes later, we arrived at Pressley Gap and the fox woman gave us our passport.  The scene was very bizarre, with maps strewn all over the place and bikes in every space available on the small grassy area.

Photo from Eric Wever Facebook page, unknown source?

Alex, my partner and I plotted our course, but one small detail was amiss.  I mistakenly dropped my reading glasses on Black, so the map was a blurry mix of lines and names which I could half make out.  Alex was going to have to be my close up eyes this day.  I tried to not let it get me down, and played it off.  It would add to the challenge right?  Well, a few minutes later, and we were off.  We bombed down Clawhammer Road with grins a mile wide.  We talked a lot in the first two hours, the excitement filling our heads and the conversation being very light and witty.  We turned left on 477 and right on 276, the only paved road of the day.  Our pace was very high and we motored onto 475, then turned right up the first climb of the day on 475B, a long, gentle fire road that led to the first checkpoint of the day at Cove Creek.  Along 225, we saw a beautiful six-foot black snake and marveled at its grace of movement as it slithered effortlessly across the road.  What lessons could this snake teach us?  We arrived at checkpoint 1 and plotted our next route to Avery Creek.  After making a short side trip to refill our water at the Pink Beds picnic area, we headed up Club Gap.  On the way up, we saw our good friends Patrick and Jered, who were bombing down the trail at breakneck speeds.  We whooped and hollered words of encouragement at our friends and felt energized by the commaderie.  In fact, every group of racers we encountered this day would always smile and greet us with the same friendliness that you do not see in other races.  Every single person either said,”Hey,” or asked things like, “Having fun out there?” or other forms of encouragement and support.  Afterall, we were all in this together, a shared experience of pushing limits and breaking possibilities of endurance.  We were all in this shared experience of pain and suffering that we knew would be 50-70 miles, but everyone was so darn happy.  PMBAR does that to you, even if you are really hurting.  Everyone smiles and that is half the battle won, when you can smile in the face of a supreme challenge.  Smile we did when we crested the first minor hill on Club Gap and hit the first smooth single-track of the day, a short section of trail that started the flow of Pisgah.

Alex on Clawhammer Road, image by BradO

After climbing again, we crested Club Gap, meeting another friend Christopher at the junction.  We then took off on the first technical downhill single-track of Avery Creek.  Avery Creek is a typical Pisgah Forest trail, with huge rocks and drops and fast flow in between the technical spots.  We were really riding now, and casually floated into checkpoint 2, where a nice volunteer from South Carolina was manning the checkpoint.  It was very surreal there at the small clearing at a junction between Avery and 5057, which is a heavily overgrown forest road.  It was peacefully quiet there and the woods gave you that closed in feeling as the trees swayed in the breeze.  We got our passports stamped and headed down 5057 to Clawhammer Road, and up to Buckhorn Gap.  We rolled through Buckhorn, and onto South Mills River for the long smooth descent to South Mills River.  After stopping at the bridge on South Mills, we fueled up for the long climb up Squirrel Gap.  Cresting the top of the Gap, we downed a bit more gel and hit the sweet single-track of Horse Cove to Cantrell Creek.  This section is really fun with technical sections mixed in with fast and smooth trail.  One of the best parts about going to the farthest away checkpoint first was that we were alone in the woods all day.  Most everyone seemed to be on the other side of the forest as we slowly made our way to the other checkpoints.  This fact allowed Alex and I to ride solo most of the day, which to me added immensely to the experience.  You really get into your head during these moments and at this point in the race, we had been going for five plus hours.  Your mind starts to go into auto-pilot and you completely merge with the moment and action.  It is just the bike, your surroundings, and action.  Not a lot of thinking, just being.

Image by BradO

We got onto South Mills River and cranked out the last few miles at a high pace to checkpoint 3 at Bradley Creek and South Mills River.  The odometer read 50 miles at this point, and a regrouping was in order.  Now the grand surprise of the day.  The friendly volunteers at this checkpoint nicely carried in a full keg and grill, and offered up free libations and burritos.  Really?  Beer during a race?  Oh yeah, this is PMBAR.  We needed the carbs, so why not?  We settled in for a while and had a drink, lubed the chain up, and had lunch.  We stayed there for 25 minutes, but it was well worth it.  Now on to Hell’s Gate, I mean Bradley Creek with its 15 or so creek crossings all while going slightly uphill.  I had never been on this trail before and now I know why.  There really is not a lot of riding going on, but the cold creek crossings do feel great on the legs.  This section was very beautiful though, and the ferns on the sides of the trail here were breathing bright green life and gave off a very tropical rainforest feel.  I tried to not let all the stopping and starting get to me mentally, and tried to laugh and smile with each new crossing.  It helped a little, but man I have never been so psyched to see a forest road as the blissful sight of sunny 1206.  We made it through Hell’s Gate and now were on our way to surprise number two.  Sometimes there are angels sent down to earth to help mortals out, and we came across one on this day in the form of Stephen Janes and free ice-cold Cokes and grilled cheese sammies.

Stephen Janes giving out Cokes and sammies, image by BradO

He gave these treats out selflessly and we sat down in chairs even, to enjoy the nectar from the gods.  These treats were really the best thing I had tasted and drank for years.  This surprise was just what we needed to keep going and gave us the resolve to finish the race.  The caffeine kicked in on the fast descent towards Yellow Gap trail.  A gentle forest road climb led to the Yellow Gap single-track, which is some of the fastest and smoothest trail in Pisgah.  I can not believe I had only climbed up this gem before now.  Riding down this trail the flow came back in tidal waves and the bike was gliding like a dream.  Have you ever skied fresh powder out West and floated down the mountain with mile-wide grins on your face?  That is what this trail is like.  Fast, flowey and beautiful.  We made it to checkpoint 4 at North Mills River and Lower Trace Ridge at 4:45 and a cool local named Carlos was there hanging out with the checkpoint volunteer.  It was nice to chat with him, but we had places to be and miles to pound out.  We climbed back up Yellow Gap trail to 1206 and did the long and hard climb up to the real Yellow Gap and more sammies and Coke.  Another round of treats and Army men surprises and we were off.  Stephen’s kid let us have an Army man he was playing with as a memento to put in our packs that would keep us safe.  It seemed like a cool thing, so I grabbed one and stuffed it in my Camelback.  We started the long slog back to the start/finish down 1206.  We went by the trail to Laurel Mountain, checkpoint 5, but seeing that it was getting late and we already had ridden like 68 miles, Alex and I both decided we were all right with 4 out of 5 checkpoints, which would be enough to finish.  We were determined to finish this beast and were all right with pedaling by Laurel.  This decision was a good one it turns out, because we probably would have been disqualified from coming in past the time cut-off if we had gone for Laurel.  Our goal was to have fun and finish and we were determined to make that a reality on our first PMBAR attempt.  Off to the finish.  We started the long ride down 1206, left on 476 to South Mills River and up to Buckhorn Gap.  We rode through Buckhorn, down Clawhammer Road and turned left on Maxwell Cove Road.  The sun was getting low and the temperatures were starting to drop.  Our sweat drenched jerseys gave us a slight chill, and I actually zipped up my jersey for the first time that day.  Half way up Maxwell, I downed some Vitamin I as the top of my shoulder near my Camelback strap was starting to really ache and seize up from the extra load.  We made it to Black Mountain trail and had now made a huge circumnavigation of all of Pisgah Forest.  A short hike a bike led us to the top of the last climb of the day just as the sun was setting on the horizon.  Cresting that last hill was like walking through the door to a new dimension.  It was quiet, the wind was gently rolling through the leaves and the light was magical.  Deep oranges mixed with blue, lavender and grey all merged to form the magic that is Pisgah at sunset.

Image by BradO

We were going to make it now, the only thing between us and the finish was sweet single-track bliss.  The descent was fun, but it was definitely getting dark fast.  With a mile to go we passed a group of backpackers that gave us that extra boost of encouragement to make it down.  They hooted and screamed and said, “You can make it.”  The light had faded and we now rode the last single-track by feel, letting the bikes take the brunt of the obstacles and rocks.  We were determined to finish with no lights and we squeaked in around 8:40 I think, by the last rays of dusk.  Our friends Patrick and Jered were standing at the last fifty feet of grass field between us and the finish, and they shouted out a big yahoo at our arrival.  We then rode under the banner and completed the journey of all journeys.  We had finished our first PMBAR.  I felt like I just won a stage of the Tour De France as we crossed the line because everyone went crazy.  The fox woman immediately brought us two beers and two burritos.  These were our trophies and our initiation tokens into the club I guess.  Coors beer never tasted so sweet, and that burrito was a godsend as well.  We did it and I shook Alex’s hand and gave him a huge hug.  We dug deep and we broke down the limits of possibility.  Pisgah Forest had shared one of its treasured secrets that day and I felt completely happy and content.  As Randy Pausch said in the Last Lecture, “Brick walls are in our life to show you how bad you really want something.”  On this day, the walls crumbled and I walked through a changed person for life.  
http://pisgahmountainbikeadventures.com/

Walking in Wilderness

(originally written February 20, 2005)

It has been nine weeks since my back surgery.  I am feeling excellent and have hiked a lot the past month.  Today was another classic North Carolina mixed bag of rain and of course at elevation, the smooth as glass and very slick verglas that coats everything, the rocks, the trees, and even the flat ground.  Rarely do you see many other hikers and today was not an exception.  The Middle Prong Wilderness section of the Mountains to Sea Trail(MST) was classic backcountry fun. 

Image via Wikipedia

For the first time ever, the white blazes of glory that light the path were somewhat obscure.  There were blazes, but not as frequent, and the ice seemed to hide the markers and play tricks on my head.  The trail was obvious, but the two signs for the MST were welcome relief twice on the route.  You start doubting yourself and then this weird latent fear of getting lost creeps up your spine.  You know you are all right and keep plodding forward.  The rain is incessant and the arms and thigh area of my top of the line Mountain Hardware rain gear are wet.  I am warm and dry inside, but I wonder what it might be like to have to be exposed like this all night?  Fears moves me forward and suddenly I see MST signs appear like ghosts in the mist.  I guess in the wilderness areas, the forest service and trail volunteers do not paint the trail markers as often.  I get to the junction with Green Mountain Trail and peer earnestly towards the south, where Mt. Hardy(6110ft.) stands somewhere one mile through the whiteness.  For the past hour I have been walking through the thickest soup of clouds and fog I think I have ever walked through.

Image via Wikipedia

It is beautiful, but at the same time unnerving.  I start to walk over in the direction of the summit, but having no compass made me hesitant.  I decided to turn around there, content to hike the summit when I can see it, or untill I buy a compass.  The verglas on the rocks made the trail quite slick.  You had to inch your way over creeks and down steeper sections.  It made for slow traveling and I got back to the car after three hours and forty minutes.  I was pretty wet when I threw off my coat and pants.  My inside layer was fine and my shoes were only just beginning to get wet inside.  The rest of this day hike was sheer joy in wilderness.  One time on the descent, I stopped briefly in a small break in the trees.  Something white and stark caught my eye.  Off in the distance a seventy-five foot waterfall was pasted on the far valley.  A chance break in the white out of clouds made the valley open up for a brief time and I spotted the beauty.  It doesn’t have a name on the map, but I bet it has been named by someone by now.  The moment was one of complete bliss and pure experience.  The rest of the hike was very special to me as well.  Walking in wilderness when no one is near, not even close, is incredibly fulfilling and meaningful.  Being at one with your thoughts and emotions, taking action and moving forward.  Creating memories and bringing a sense of calm and relaxation into your being.  Hearing the wind and beat of rain and feeling the pulse of life.  Rain falling on leaves like the beat of a heart, the beat of humankind.  Nature’s power and life, weaving spiritual connections inside your head, merging energies.  God, nature, man, trees, ice, water, wind, mind, voice, steps…keep walking.

Overcoming Fear at The Looking Glass

The Looking Glass, NC

Rarely can you climb one route and feel completely satisfied.  The curse of the addicted climber always rings true–just one more climb.  Yesterday, one more climb was not necessary.  My wife and I walked joyfully down the trail at dusk with not a tinge of regret at having done a mere two pitches on the cloudless and perfect, early spring Sunday afternoon.  Arriving at the parking lot of the Southside of The Looking Glass at the crack of noon, we headed up to the familiar moderate area of classic flaring cracks and eyebrow face climbs.  The Southside is a great place to get your bearings on the incredible granite of The Glass.  The climbs are all fun classic cracks, like the quintessential finger-crack corner Rat’s Ass(5.8), the bomber jams of Bloody Crack(5.8), and the long slabby finger-crack The Zodiac(5.8+).  On the way up the trail, my mind was undecided on what our prize should be today.  My mental nemesis route called Windwalker(5.9), was the only route on the Southside we hadn’t done, so with a hesitant and loud sigh I agreed to have a look and possibly try it.  I have looked at the route on numerous occasions, but the rumors sung in my head and created a surge of doubt and hesitation each time I thought of trying it.  An old-school traditional climber once told me, “Yeah, it is pretty cerebral, but doable.”  Famous last words I thought to myself.  If this friend says its cerebral, what does that really mean?  I climbed with him four times and never once saw an ounce of fear or hesitation from him, so what would I be in for on this journey?  Run-outs between gear, sketchy protection, steep eyebrows, slabby crimping, balencey and technical moves–yes all of the above apply here.  North Carolina standard fare.  Old school 5.9, bold and brilliant.  I should have known by the name Windwalker, that it would be good.  The name conjures up images of a wise shaman who travels the desert with the shifting winds, always seeking answers, always moving and learning.  This climb today calls on these same skills of mental and physical clarity of purpose.

Eyebrows at The Looking Glass

Eyebrows are a curious horizontal crack feature in climbing and look like an eyebrow from a distance(see photos).  It takes a few times to get use to climbing on them, but when you master the mantel, high-step, palm, crimp and balance routine, you have got it made.  Eyebrows love to eat up small Metolius or Alien cams and Lowe Tri-cams are indispensable(these are names of particular climbing protection pieces).  But eyebrow climbing is very heady and run-out between pieces of protection.  A climber routinely has to make three or four moves to a promising eyebrow only to be denied protection.  They are then forced to climb a few more feet to the next horizontal, which must have pro, you hope.  Windwalker is the same game of hit and miss protection, but enough is there to make your heart and mind shout joys of thanks each time you click your rope to the carabiner.  The clicking sound is one of relief and relaxation, where torments of anguish are temporarily eased, and the mind can focus again on the next few feet and the next few moves.  To succeed on Windwalker, one must be like the shaman, seeking, searching, moving.  From the opening moves out of a shallow corner onto the arete and face, the route starts dishing out the business.  Rounded crimps and shallow eyebrows challenge the mind and yet to the faithful, yield the right of way and offer passage.  A blend of fear, balancing acts on semi-stances, and faith brings one to the final bulge that has good horizontal crack jams and underclings.  High step on the slab, and you are free again and then a perfect horizontal eyebrow belay calls out ten feet below the nice 5.5 corner of pitch two.  This cerebral pitch was one of my favorites on the Southside.  It has been a breakthrough pitch for me and helped me develop the tenacity to go with the moment and persevere.   Afterall, climbing is a lot about keeping going and seeking adventure.  As the late Derek Hersey said, “Having a look around the corner.”  When we can go forward in the face of the unknown, seeking answers in our physical craft, answers that ease the wandering, restless spirit within, then we can find great joy and peace in these moments.  We can know that life can sometimes bring one closer to truth and closer to finding ultimate realities.  Not bad for an old-school 5.9 eyebrow climb, eh?  Any questions?

(Written March 6, 2006)

Climbing

Me climbing Shredded Wheat at Rumbling Bald, photo by Paul Rothfeld

Beautiful upward progress

Across faces and seams of rock.

Orange, yellow, red, brown, and gray

All mixed together with the blue clearness in the sky.

Many colors merging with the mind

Yet calm, pure Breathing.

Breathe it in deep.

What a gift

The rock gods have brought

A ledge for four,

300 feet off the deck.

Sun beaming

Beckoning one to movement.

Merging dances with the rock.

Quietness and yet most alive you are now.

Moving forward,

Always searching the wall

For the right path.

Concentration.

Chalk up the fingers

Always thinking upward and above.

What lies next,

Beyond that block?

A face or a perfect finger crack to the summit?

We know not,

So we climb to find out.

Our curiosity

Overwhelmes and inspires us

To movement

And art unfolding in the unknown.

We are drawn onward

By secret, silent voices

And visions of beauty in form and action.

(Poem written in May, 1998)

Bushwhacking in High Places

Can you say bushwhacking?

About three years ago, I completed the South Beyond 6000(SB6K) hiking program in North Carolina.  This program is a hiking challenge sponsored by the Carolina Mountain Club to hike all the state’s 6000 foot peaks.  There are technically 60 peaks above 6000 feet, but only 40 are in the challenge.  You end up hiking all the peaks as some are sub-peaks of others, and as in Colorado, there are rules for distance and elevation changes between peaks(see rules at The Carolina Mountain Club website).  This challenge was one of the hardest life accomplishments I have ever completed.  I started almost by accident.  I had just had low back surgery and my doctor said I could not rock climb for three months, but to walk and hike as much as I wanted.  I was bored waiting around with nothing to do, and frankly I was depressed as well.  Well, why not hike instead of mope?  I slowly increased my distances, and one day went out to hike a 6000 foot peak in Pisgah Forest, Mt. Hardy.  I remember that there was snow on the ground and the hike was harder than anticipated.  No one was around, which is very typical in the winter in North Carolina.  People for the most part seem to not venture too far than a mile from their cars, who knows?  Well anyways, the day was a blue bird day with the warm sun shining on my face and thoughts of solitude and adventure penetrated me to the core.  The views were incredible up top, which later I found out is not always the case in North Carolina, because of the thick trees and foliage.  Well, after that solo hike I was definitely hooked on hiking again and started to want more.  After a few weeks, I had done all the peaks on the maps I had, and then randomly met a hiker one day that was in the Carolina Mountain Club.  He suggested I do the SB6K program and I looked it up that night.  After browsing their maps and information, I was intrigued, and decided that if I could not climb for three months, why not hike.  I had already hiked ten peaks, so why not?  At least I would stay busy for a while.  It took me 2 years to complete the program, and I have to say that some of the peaks I never want to go to ever again.  In the East, peaks above 5000 feet are being ravaged by the wooly adelgid beetle and many trees are dying off.  This situation causes there to be an abundance of deadfall and briars.  North Carolina briars in the summer are not just little thorn bushes, they entangle whole tops of mountains in an impenetrable barrier like barbed wire fences at Alcatraz.  These briars are sometimes about eight feet tall and twist and turn around every tree, rock and bush, and combined with the deadfall, you literally have to crawl on your hands and knees at times to make forward progress.  I remember so many days being surrounded by this mass of life and literally only being able to see about five feet in any direction.  It is very disconcerting at times.  And you better know how to use a map and compass too, because over half of the peaks require about a mile of bushwhacking to reach the summit.  The summits of these bushwhacks are sometimes only a pile of rocks with flagging, or if you are lucky, there is a forest service bench mark.  About a fourth of the peaks have no views because of the aforementioned deadfall, briars, and tree fortress, that blocks any hope of a view.  But for me, it was more about the adventure than the views.  You always get views in North Carolina, but they are usually on the way to the summits.  You get up on a ridge and the trees will open up to the next valley and give you a window view of the greenest green you have ever seen.  And did I say trees?  Yes there are a lot of trees in North Carolina.  I lived in Colorado for twelve years and was always used to wide open expansive views of mountains and valleys.  In Colorado, I never used a compass, because you could always see your destination from ten miles away.  It was hard to get lost.  Here, the trees enclose you and you become part of the forest you are treading in.  You learn to narrow your focus and go inward.  The forest encloses your mind and you notice the small things.  I have seen so many small miracles of life-like spiders, salamanders, morning dew glistening on fresh cobwebs, snails, etc., that I probably would have missed in other parts of the country.  Also, there are so many colors of green in the woods here that I can’t even describe it to you, except I have seen shades of green I did not know existed here.  It is as if Van Gogh had painted the colors here, and played with his easel by experimenting and mixing new colors not on the color wheel.  The weather is another crazy factor in North Carolina.  I have hiked in blue skies, I have hiked in the dark, and I have hiked in the rain, sleet, and snow.  I have hiked in cold temperatures, in boiling hot temps, in the humidity, and in extremely high winds.  The mountains here are very unpredictable.  I have been out on summer days that have turned very dangerous in a matter of a few minutes.  And one thing you will definitely encounter in North Carolina is rain.  Buy good rain gear, because you will use it.  Hiking in the rain is so amazing though, when the clouds and fog are rushing through the trees creating window views of valleys and mountains in all directions.  Above 5000 feet when you are in the clouds it is very exhilarating.  You become a part of the living world of nature and you feel so small and insignificant, and yet happy and content.  You become part of the miracle of life and you wonder about the meaning of it all.  So if you want to challenge yourself, or if you just want to see some beautiful places, hike North Carolina summits.  You will find places of peace there and you will not be dissatisfied.