Grappling the hike
A group of longtime Anne Arundel wrestling coaches trekked 41 miles on Appalachian Trail
It was around 2 a.m. at the Dahlgren campground in Boonsboro when Old Mill wrestling coach Jim Grim made the mistake thatwould drive a stake through his morale.
He asked John Klessinger, South River’s wrestling coach, what mile marker they’d reached. He delivered the good news: They were 24 miles in.
The bad news? They had17 to go.
“I just remember a dagger through my heart,” Grim said. “I said to myself, ‘Man we still have [17] more miles.’ Iwas hurting.”
Grim and Klessinger, as well as Annapolis wrestling coach Tom Sfakiyanudis, Broadneck’s Reid Bloomfield and Arundel’s Dwayne Vogel, set off Oct. 2-3 to hike the 41-mikeMaryland portion of the Appalachian Trail carrying just headlamps, water, protein bars and beef jerky.
Overnight. In the pitch dark. For 17 straight hours. No breaks.
“We didn’t come up with the idea,” said Bloomfield, a novice hiker, “but we weren’t gonna let those other guys win.”
The undertaking came together when Vogel messaged the group in July. He missed the coaches he’d gotten used to being around all the time throughwrestling, and together at a dinner a plan was hatched. It started with Klessinger, who’d hiked Maryland’s portion of the trail across two days in the past.
Grim kicked it up a notch. He and Klessinger had always swapped challenges and goals in theweight room. Last summer, they ran a half marathon together. All of thatwas appetizerscompared towhatGrim had in mind this time.
“I said, ‘I don’t knowabout that, man.’ I’d never done that before. I’d never hiked at night before. Not through the night. I’ve hiked at night, but that was like 12 consecutive hours in the dark,” Klessinger said.
After work on Friday, the coaches drove to Pen Mar Park on the Pennsylvanian border and started their hike south at 6 p.m. Most of themwouldn’t stopwalking until 11 a.m.
Without wrestling, the hike gave the five coaches something real to look forward to but killing time was made easier by discussing the sport they love and miss. “What would a wrestling season look like? Would there be one at all?” Sfakiyanudis said as soon as they’d reach a solution between them, someone elsewould pipe up with a “what about …?”
“You got a bunch of coaches who’d normally be preparing for the season right now. … Having all that taken away, it’s great to get into thewoods and talk about all that stuff with peoplewhoare going through the same thing,” Sfakiyanudis said.
Eventually, though, exhaustion kicked in. Around 8 p.m., Grim crafted a plan. They could separate the hike — in their heads anyway — into two-hour increments. Just get to midnight. Then 2 a.m. Then, eventually, tired and beat up, itwas over.
“Mentally, that made it a lot easier,” Klessinger said.
Like Bloomfield, Vogel had never hiked a day in his life. Five miles in, Vogel’s knee began to ache. He considered telling the guys hewas heading back, but his “wrestler mentality” consumed him and he opted to tough it out.
However, just before dawn, Vogel realized hemade another crucial mistake.
Before the hike, Sfakiyanudis and Grim bannedtrekking poles. Grimadmitted poles probably would have been smart, but given how “ultra competitive” they all were, they all agreed not to use them.
By 4 a.m., Vogelwas lagging behind some of the other coaches.
Another pair of hikers who started hours after the coaches caught up to Vogel, who spotted one hiker’s poles and promptly offeredhim$100. Theyhad“mercyonhim,” he said, and wouldn’t accept the full amount.
“I didn’t know. I’m just dumb and naïve and didn’t do this before. What do you need poles for? Then I got out there,” Vogel said.
Theothers finished beforeVogel reached his 37th mile, where his body couldn’t carry him any longer and he decided to head to a nearby town. Still, he valued the trek. The kindness of the hikers he came across reminded him of the close-knit wrestling community.
“I totally, 100% underestimated how it was going to be,” Vogel said. “And of course they threw all these elements in there. But I wouldn’t have traded it for anything. Definitely glad I got to experience it.”
For as many rocks that the coaches struggled over, the five had moments that still make them laugh. Bloomfield hoped they’d stumble across a snake at some point, or a bear; Grim’s terrified of both, the Broadneck coach said. At one point, Klessinger tossed a stick into thewoods and Grim jumped. He thought itwas an animal, the South River coach said. They did see deer, Grim said.
Past midnight, the coaches hiked down a steep descent and turned a corner into a field of a couple dozen eyes, reflecting the light of their headlamps in the dark.
“We’d just stopped in our tracks,” Bloomfield said. “It took me a second and I realized itwas fenced in and itwas a bunch of cattle.”
Bloomfield joked that every time they’d approach a hill, Klessinger piped in, “It’s mostly flat, guys.” The South River coach assured his friends that after a tricky winding path towards the end, there’s nothing but flat walking before Harper’s Ferry.
“It was not flat. There was nothing flat about it. It was horrible,” Sfakiyanudis said, laughing. “That night, we went out to eat and it looked like a bunch of penguinswere waddling down the street.”
Klessinger took responsibility for that, though he told the coaches to wear better shoes.
Klessinger provided a much needed service to the others all night long. They’d stop to refill water from a spring, but that was it. When aching limbs began to take over, the South River coach urged them on.
“Wewere all in it together. We all support one another. Even thoughwe got separated at times, itwas like— just finish,” Grim said.
Days later, the coaches still ached, some more than others. “Walking is a loose term,” Klessinger said, “for everybody.” But like a tattoo, they’ll forget the pain in pursuit of their next challenge.
“Sunday, we sent a message to the five of us: Let’s go out for a steak dinner, and then let’s discuss the next adventure,” Grim said.
Klessinger messaged Grim with an idea: theDevil’s Path in the CatskillMountains, a 8,000-foot elevation gain, considered the most difficult climb on the East Coast.
Grim said, “Let’s do this.”