REPORT: Unsupported 170mi Cohos Trail FKT

Christof Teuscher

Summary for the lazy readers

In October 2021, I managed to set a new unsupported FKT on the 170mi Cohos trail in 81:50 = 3d 9h 50m. I was mostly only interested in this trail because its abbreviation (CT) matches my initials. The rocks, bogs, and mud ate my clueless and underprepared West Coast persona alive.

I thought this would never end…

The movie

Yes, coming once I cleared my steadily increasing movie making backlog. Stay tuned…

The trail and previous FKTs

The Cohos Trail (pronounced coe–ahss) is a relatively young 170mi long trail in New Hampshire’s North Country. The trail runs from southern Crawford Notch in the White Mountain National Forest through the Great North Woods to the Canadian border at Pittsburg, NH. The route “[…] encompasses nearly 40 peaks, including the tallest in the Northeast, passes through three major river watersheds, reaches New Hampshire’s highest cliffs, saddles up to numerous waterfalls and major wildlife bogs and marshes, and drifts through a million acres of forest” [CT].

Eli Burakian set an unsupported FKT in 4d 3h 21m 0s in 2019, the current self-supported FKT is held by Robert Rives (2d 18h 0m 0s). Unsupported means one carries all gear and food (except water) from the beginning to the end. No external support of any kind is allowed.

“Most hikers manage the Cohos Trail in twelve to fourteen days. More than a few have completed the hike in nine or ten days. The fastest trek was completed by a runner, who finished in just under four days” [CT].

For my unsupported FKT, I followed the current and official route as shown on the Cohos trail 2020 map.

The Cohos trail: A 170mi trail in the fabulous state of New Hampshire (“Live Free or Die”).

The start

For logistical and topographical reasons, I decided to start at the Canadian border (thru-hikers call this SOBO). Rob and Eli were both NOBOs. I dropped off my rental car at the southern terminal (Davis Path Trailhead) and got a ride to the start at the Canadian border with Dan from NH Priority Transportation. The drive gave me an amazing preview of the peak fall colors I’d enjoy (for the most part) for the next few days.

Rob and Eli both had stopped their watches at the junction with the 4th Connecticut Lake Trail. The Cohos trail officially circles the lake. After checking in with Eli, it seemed the best approach for SOBO FKT attempts would be to also start the watch at the same junction, to then circle the lake (counterclockwise), head to the border station, tag the monument across Highway 3, and then head southwards. So that’s what I did. That allowed me to cover each and every segment of the trail. The figure below shows an overview of the start situation.

At 2:15pm on Thu, Oct 7, 2021, I started at the 4th Connecticut Lake near the US/Canadian border. Needless to say that the pack felt heavy and that I was nervous about the next few days. I really didn’t know what to expect. Reading guidebooks and trip reports never worked for me. I just need to go and experience the trail myself.

The Cohos trail situation by the US-Canadian border: I started my watch at the junction of the 4th Connecticut Lake Loop trail. Rob and Eli stopped their watches there.

It is go time!

Tagging the “monument” at the US/Canadian border. I thought this was a rather desperate place, dominated by fences, gates, cameras, and floodlights. I guess that’s what border crossings are all about.

The next few days

Life was very “simple” over the next 3 days and 10 hours: I moved, I ate, I drank, and I slept very little. In general, I simply tried not to die.

I’m not good at remembering all details and in which sequence they occurred, so I’ll just post a couple of images here. I will try to reconstruct more details in the movie.

Overall, the trail offers a little bit of everything, yet, it mostly goes through amazing and never-ending forests, climbs over 40 “hills” (all of which I basically underestimated), leads you around lakes, along rivers (dry and wet), and also does not leave out some terrible road walks.

The fall colors were amazing in every aspect. I’ve only ever seen similar colors at a similar scale in Alaska.

There is no question that I didn’t see a lot of great places and beauty on the trail because I moved at night for more than half of the overall time. Navigation was demanding in some places, but I generally enjoy moving at night. It’s quiet, magical, and you just live in the beam of your headlamp. The limited visibility can be a real blessing because sometimes it’s better not to know where you have to go. Your sole goal is to try to move forward as fast and efficient as possible.

Unsupported also means you cannot harvest food. They did not look edible anyway.

For some reason I was followed by cows several times for several miles. Perhaps this trail should be pronounced “cow-ass” instead of “coe–ahss.”

Fall colors are a bit like the northern lights. After a while you’ve seen them and are looking forward to seeing some other colors.

There were bogs, there was mud. Pretty much everywhere.

Working hard to move forward.

A typical trail.

Another typical trail.

Most peaks did not offer views, but some did.

Mt. Eisenhower did not disappoint.

Zero views.

Yet another trail. Very runnable.

Can’t wait to get into the 3rd night.

Looking and smelling fresh.

How did that happen?

Can I please sleep now?

Post-finish party

After what seemed like a never-ending 3rd night, I got “spit out” (or I should rather say “dropped down”) at the Davis Path Trailhead just past midnight. Thankfully, my rental car was still there. I would normally have had at least a beer ready for my arrival, but for some totally unknown reason, I had failed to plan for that crucial step. Very atypical.

Initially I thought I’d sleep in the car for a few hours, but a real bed and a shower suddenly felt more attractive. What I didn’t know was that any nearby hotel was either going to have a closed front desk and/or would be fully booked. It was past 2am when I finally found a place that charged me big $$$ for a standard room. Every place was telling me that it was peak fall color season and that they are generally fully booked each night. I clearly had not gotten that memo.

Nevertheless, my dysfunctional mind and body still managed to change my flights to a day earlier, to unpack some of my wet gear to avoid further rotting, and to take a shower. But alas, I forgot to turn off the alarm on my GPS watch from the previous night. It went off at 3:15am, just as I was finally asleep and dreaming soundly about rocks, bugs, mud, and never-ending nondescript forests.

The next same morning I skipped the morning run (still feeling bad about that!) and was on the road to Boston before 8am. My rental car did suggest I take a break at some point. It was a valid suggestion.

At Logan, I was asked multiple times whether I had run the Boston marathon. I guess the Salomon shirt, the dorky compression socks, and the Altra shoes were suspicious. I just laughed and said that I was running some trail up in New Hampshire.

Thanks to a lot of magic by United agents, I made it back to Portland the same day.

Organized chaos.

It was a valid suggestion.

No, I did not run the Boston marathon. Did you?

The weather

I was told that I picked the perfect time. It was fall color peak season and I had a 4-day window without any precipitation. The sun was out for the first two days, the third day was cloudy. It never really felt hot, even when the sun was out. The nights were clear and rather chilly. There was some fog and wind on some of the peaks at night.

Despite the great weather, I had wet feet for pretty much the entire duration. The ground and a lot of the vegetation was wet at night and for most of the day. Some of the forests are so dense that it seems the ground never really dries.

Hats off to Eli, who had a lot worse conditions for this 2019 unsupported record than I did. I can’t imagine doing the trail in bad weather.

Footcare

I paid great attention to my feet because I quickly figured that it would be impossible to keep them dry. I carried some waterproof socks, but they are not perfect either. My strategy was to get into the sleeping bag and to let the feet dry at least twice in a 24h period. Often that was just a 20min nap by the side of the trail, yet, that avoided getting serious “trench feet” and skin maceration. I also carried several single-use HikeGoo packets as well as Desitin. Both greatly help to keep moisture at bay and to prevent skin damage in wet conditions.

Food and gear

I carried food for 4 days with about 7,000cal per 24h period. That added up to about 12lbs. Not exactly light. I ended up with some reserves, which is always good and was part of the plan. I did not carry a stove.

According to my basic math skills, I consumed about 3,520mg of caffeine (in the form of tablets and gels) over 3.5 days. That’s roughly 24 12oz cups, or about 7 cups per day. Thankfully that’s still far away from the lethal dose, which is apparently around 30 cups consumed in a short amount of time. Note that the American Dietetic Association suggests no more than 200-300mg of caffeine a day. I mean…how do they get through the day?!

Because of the excellent weather forecast, I decided to unload some extra wet weather gear at the last minute. That was wise. However, thankfully I did not compromise with the number of socks. I really needed them.

I only carried a sleeping bag, a tarp, and a bivy bag. I used all of these items at some point and was glad to have them. Although I could have decided to suffer more with less and without compromising safety.

I wore La Sportiva Mutants, which worked great for the different trail surfaces and conditions.

Mary Jane’s bare burrito, cold soaked, enhanced with some delicious mayo. Very normal.

Sleep

The two main ingredients to moving far are (1) to go light and (2) to sleep very little. Managing sleep is, I think, harder than going light. My strategy was to only sleep when really needed. I basically moved until I couldn’t anymore, then I laid down and decided how much sleep I was going to get away with. I often start with a 10min trail nap, but at some point I will need more. Then I go for one hour. I may extend as needed, depending on feel, weather, location, etc.

The best part of a sleep break is to roll up in the cozy sleeping bag and to fall asleep within seconds. The absolut worst part is having to get up when everything is dark, wet, cold, and you’re largely dysfunctional mentally and physically. I found that the best strategy is to get this highly uncomfortable part over quickly and efficiently. To do so, the actions need to be automated. You should know what to pack in what order, where, and how. The more you do it, the more efficient you’ll become.

Things that drove me nuts

  • The rocks
  • The bogs
  • The mud
  • Taking the pack off 5,678 times to change layers.
  • The crotch climate when wearing rain pants.
  • Ziploc bags with tiny holes, slowly leaking your cold soaking meals into some pack pocket.
  • The toxic smell of my rotting socks, none of which dried on the pack.
  • Walking along Road 302 in crazy traffic on a Sunday afternoon during peak fall color season.
  • Going by the Mount Washington Bretton Woods resort and golf course and hearing people make comments about my trail smell.
  • Missing a turn on the steep downhill from Table Rock, and having to climb up for 5min again.
  • My nuts, no, the peanuts, when the Ziploc accidentally opens in your pack pocket.

Wild- and not-so-wildlife

  • 2 bears
  • 23 grouse, all flying away at the very last second
  • 5 dogs not under control by the owners
  • 46 cows, most running after me
  • 7 mosquitos
  • 3 frogs (or are these toads?)
  • 0 moose, but plenty of tracks
  • 0 ticks

Personal hygiene

  • None
  • In the name of efficiency, I never washed or took a swim.
  • I brushed my teeth only once and didn’t carry any floss. Sorry Stephanie! I will floss again daily now.

Other Cohos thru-hikers I’ve crossed paths with

  • None

At the trail registry somewhere/shortly before the Devil’s Rest shelter, three southbound hikers (Lucy and friends, if I remember correctly?) had checked in the day before. I was excited to perhaps catch them, but I never saw any Cohos thru-hikers or even a tent on the entire trail. None of the shelters I checked were occupied.

Or was everybody hiding in the bushes because they heard me curse from far away about the annoying sound dry leaves make on the ground or because I stepped into another bog? Or was I smelling so bad?

Special thanks to all previous shelter users: all were left in absolute impeccable shape.

The busiest place was probably Mt. Eisenhower. There were also several day-hikers on Rogers Ledge and around Table Rock. The trail felt otherwise remote and lonely, which I greatly enjoyed.

The stats

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