REPORT: 102mi Unsupported LolliHood FKT

A report by Megan and Christof

Adventure protagonists

Megan (with hair) and Christof (without hair).

The protagonists, before and after a 39 hour and 30 minute ramble in and around the woods.

Backstory

Neither of us had done the Timberline Trail and we felt a certain pressure to get it under our belts. However, the standard route sounded a little underwhelming. After all, anybody can drive up to 6,000 feet and spend a day ambling around a volcano. So we figured it would perhaps be more pure—and demanding—to start at sea level. As it turns out, there’s a challenge for that: LolliHood. The route is part 1 of the Tamanawas 1-2-3-Hundred Challenge, which consists in circumnavigating three major volcanos—Mt. Hood, Mt. Adams, and Mt. St. Helens—from the Bridge of the Gods in Cascade Locks, OR.

[pullquote]As usual, Christof’s spreadsheets were wrong. Mightily wrong.[/pullquote]

The LolliHood route, shown in the figure below, is about 102 miles with approximately 22,277 feet of elevation gain. To the best of our knowledge, nobody had ever done this route. Christof’s spreadsheets predicted 35ish hours as a realistic finishing time for an unsupported style. That estimate was based on several previous Cascade Locks to Timberline Lodge treks. But alas, as usual, Christof’s spreadsheets were wrong. Mightily wrong.

Overview map of the Tamanawas 1-2-3-Hundred routes. LolliHood is the shortest and easiest lollipop route.

Every beginning is hard

Christof’s spreadsheets called for a 1 am (sharp!) start on Friday morning. According to their (fallible) calculations, that would allow us to reach the Timberline Trail before noon and run the north portion of the route during the day, a section we’d not seen before.

We parked at the Bridge of the Gods trailhead, set off on time and in good spirits—only to be slowed for nearly 6 miles by an out-of-control poison oak (PO) carnival. Running would have been calamitous under any circumstances, but our bulging packs, laden with 102 miles worth of gear and food, made our ooze-avoidance a slow and miserable chore.

We did finally reach Benson plateau, and a relieving foggy breeze energized us. We made it to Wahtum lake (mile 14) more or less on schedule, filled our bottles, and continued.

1am. Heavy packs loaded with food and gear for an unsupported 102-mile stroll.

Poison oak everywhere! The PCT clearly needs some love here. And elsewhere too.

A foggy Wahtum lake.

Early morning water treatment. Better safe than sorry. Christof speaks from his cryptosporidiosis experience…

Difficulty intensifies

The stretch to Lolo Pass (mile 30) was long, slow, and more notably: wetter than the Hoh in February. Along with dense fog and steady drizzle, we battled miles of soaked, overgrown vegetation and found ourselves as scratched and sopping as if we’d wandered into a carwash.

Somewhere during this section Megan spotted a strange animal in the middle of the trail. As she approached, it scurried under some beargrass, lingered, and gave us a minute to attempt identification. It look liked a rat—beady eyes, greasy fur—but without a tail. Christof grabbed his camera to snap a photo, but the mysterious mini-beast charged toward his leg. Christof screeched, recoiled, and nearly dropped his camera. Megan laughed until she choked. Luckily, the “rat” aborted its charge and disappeared into the brush. We decided that perhaps it was a rat with rabies and continued.

[pullquote]The mysterious mini-beast charged toward his leg.[/pullquote]

The sun peeked through the fog as we neared Lolo Pass. Our mood lightened, as did our steps, and we soon reached the intersection with Timberline Trail (mile 33). We were almost 30 minutes ahead of schedule. So far so good, it seemed. We looked forward to day’s warmth drying our shoes and socks…and to the miles gliding by.

Leading up to the “rat” attack, it felt like a November morning: cold, windy, foggy, drizzly.

Beargrass was still omnipresent.

On the Timberline Trail

The Timberline boost didn’t last long. As we headed clockwise from Top Spur, the trail climbed gradually, then steeply, then gradually again. It seemed never to descend. The water crossings were challenging, and though we managed to never fall in or get wet, we slowed considerably each time. Twenty-minute miles remained elusive, and whenever we thought we’d found a rhythm, a blowdown materialized.

[pullquote]He violently evacuated 12 hours’ worth of candied walnuts and expired crepes.[/pullquote]

Somewhere between McNeil Point and Eliot, Christof felt his 47+years in the form of crippling nausea. As he violently evacuated 12 hours’ worth of candied walnuts and expired crepes, Megan hypothesized that perhaps his recovery from the previous weekend’s 75-mile Steens traverse was…not complete. Christof rolled his eyes, ate pudding from a baggy, and we both continued on.

Over or under?

Christof brought loads of dehydrated tropical fruit. They did not do him good.

The flowers, though, did us both good.

When we finally reached Cloud Cap, we were 1 hour 45 minutes behind schedule. Clearly, things had not unfolded well. Megan unwrapped her feet and discovered heavily macerated skin. Christof ate some more candied walnuts, cursing all the while.

The journey—and the endless climbing—continued. More sand, more rocks, more river crossings…peeling skin, vomit, vomit…and soon it felt like the sun would set before we reached Timberline Lodge. And indeed it did.

Christof’s stomach was surly, but Megan’s feet raged. We finally stopped to tend to them: applied Desitin, tape, improvised a waterproof sock layer with a piece of an emergency blanket, cut holes into the shoe’s insole to remove pressure from the worst points.

Christof not feeling well.

The views were passable.

The sand was inconvenient.

Another river crossing.

Yet another river crossing.

Welcome cooler temperatures as the sun set.

By the time we finally reached Timberline Lodge (mile 50) it was dark. We were 3 hours and 35 minutes behind schedule. Could we even finish? Would we have enough calories to get back to Cascade Locks? We talked about quitting several times, but not seriously. We were hurting and annoyed but not totally destroyed.

As we started our descent from Timberline Lodge, we heard a booming voice. We stopped. The voice boomed again. We shouted back. Whaaaat?  As it turned out, a mysterious camper was calling out to us about the NEOWISE comet. “It’s right there!” he was (apparently) bellowing. We turned off our headlamps and peered northwestward, and sure enough…there it was. As we gazed at its spectacular tail, we felt happier and continued on. (The comet went on to cheer us all night.)

Night two

One the way down to the Sandy River we were suddenly so exhausted that we decided to take a 5-minute trail nap. Neither of us checked the time, and we dozed for significantly longer. Still, once we rose we moved (what felt like) much more swiftly.

Somewhere near Paradise Park, Megan was about to leap across a small creek when suddenly she screamed. What had looked like a stable stepping rock turned out to be a second “rat” specimen enjoying a past-midnight bath. Do rats really do that? Megan was doubtful while Christof laughed until he choked.

The Sandy River crossing was straightforward, and soon we were climbing up to the PCT/Timberline Trail intersection. We thought we’d be there quickly, but we were predictably wrong. The switchbacks continued to materialize, but the intersection did not. Over an hour and several Fisherman’s Friends later there it was, and we rested (thankfully) then marched on to Lolo Pass again. Now we only had about 33 miles left. Unfortunately, by this point we were almost 5 hours behind and a noon arrival at Cascade Locks, which he had envisioned, was out of the question.

Day two

The sun rose as we crossed Lolo Pass. It appeared as though it was going to be a great day again, and so to prepare ourselves, we took a short power nap (this time actually 5 minutes!) in a sunny spot. That did wonders! We felt revitalized and attacked the interminable stretch to Wahtum Lake. Thankfully, we did not fall even more behind our schedule. Megan ate waffle #21 and Christof another of his infamous dehydrated Ziplock meals.

We were both looking forward to the long descent into the Gorge but not looking forward to PO-decorated, 5+-mile section to Cascade Locks. At least were were on the same page?

The descent from the Benson Plateau was more painful and slow than we anticipated. Then came the last 5 miles, where we had to once again dodge the poison oak. “Dodge” perhaps improperly suggests we were moving at a fair clip; in fact, we were moving so slowly that we got passed by a PCT through-hiker.

About a mile before Cascade Locks Megan suddenly sat down, claiming her feet were so agonizing that she couldn’t continue without some sort of first aid. An inspection revealed that the heavy maceration was now married with blisters and sand, and things were indeed very ugly. Still, it didn’t take much deliberation to decide there was nothing we could do and that moving forward would probably be best. So we did.

Power-nap time!

Power-nap time!

The end

We reached Cascade Locks after 39 hours and 30 minutes, about 5 hours slower than anticipated. It was not disappointing, as that is how real adventures end—slower and more miserably than predicted.

The protagonists, after a 39 hour and 30 minute ramble in and around the woods.

“Rat” mystery solved

On the way home we Googled our “rats” and discovered that we had seen not one, but two elusive mountain beavers! Fitting indeed.

Mountain beaver. Source: NPS. Image labeled for reuse.

“Aplodontia rufa, commonly known as the mountain beaver, is the world’s most primitive rodent: elusive, destructive and often mean. But it just loves living in the damp Pacific Northwest. […] Some are very nice and passive. Some are angry and bite your hand off. Some, when released, will turn around, defiant, and lunge for her boots.” [SeattleTimes]

We can definitely confirm the meanness and eagerness to attack.

Stats and data and numbers:

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HOW-TO: FKT Recording and Crew Technology

A lot of folks seem curious about how I record and document my Fastest Known Times (FKTs), especially the multi-day long-distance adventures. Most FKT-related online articles (e.g., [1,2]) will simply tell you to record your FKTs, but they fail to tell you how exactly to do things and what devices to use.

This blog post contains a description of what technology (see Figure 1) I use for myself and the crew and why I chose it. I will mainly focus on FKT attempts and multi-day long-distance adventures, where technology failures may have a big impact on your completion probability and where keeping all your devices charged is key.

Figure 1. FKT runner and crew gadgets.

What if you’re at mile 89 of a sweet 100mi FKT route and your watch battery suddenly dies because you thought it would allow you to record for the advertised 30 hours? Well, bummer, you may not be able to claim that FKT then!

There’s obviously no unique or best approach for all of this, so what may work for me, may not work for you. I’m not trying to give advice, I’m merely describing here what has worked for me in the past. Also, needless to say that my approach is by no means foolproof, so use it at your own risk.

The importance of redundancy

If you rip your running shorts, well, that’s usually no big deal. If you lose a water bottle, well, you probably carry several, so no big deal either. But when it comes to technology, the key is to avoid single points of failure (SPOF). A SPOF is a part of the system that, if it stops working, will prevent the entire system from working. E.g.,

  • If you lose your GPS (yes, that happened to me…luckily I found it again about a mile back), will you have an alternative way to navigate your route?
  • What if you lose your paper maps in strong winds (yes, that happened to a runner at SPINE).
  • If your headlamp fails, do you have a backup light and sufficient batteries of the type it needs for you to keep going?
  • What if you packed a bad extra battery that was supposed to get you through the second night?
  • What if you accidentally left your GPS on over night and it drained the battery?
  • What if you accidentally reset the GPS to factory settings and erased all your maps, tracks, and waypoints?

You get the idea. To mitigate single points of failure, you need to add redundancy to your system. If a certain part fails, another part can take over the functionality of the faulty part. Problem solved. Well, for the most part. What if the second part also fails?

Satellite systems will often use triple module redundancy (TMR) as illustrated in Figure 2. That means there are three identical instruments of the same type. A “majority voter” circuit will read all three instruments and then produce a single output that corresponds to the value the majority of the three instruments show. So, how many instrument failures can a TMR system tolerate? One. If any one of the three instruments fails, the other two can correct and “mask” the single fault. The idea can easily be generalized to N-module redundancy (NMR), where N is any number of redundant modules.

Figure 2. Triple Module Redundancy (TMR).

The more redundant parts you have, the more likely you’ll be successful. But there’s obviously a trade-off between how man devices you can and want to carry. No one wants to carry 5 GPS units to cover for the highly unlikely case that 4 of them fail.

Most of the decisions I will talk about in the following sections are guided by the trade-off between how much extra weight one wants to carry with redundant devices and the risk of having to abandon the adventure because something went wrong with the technology.

Runner devices

In this section, I will describe the technology I use to track and navigate for FKTs as a runner. The crew tech will be described later.

Why I don’t take a smartphone

For a variety of reasons, most runners in these days like to run with smartphones. I do not subscribe to this approach and have generally avoided taking my smartphone on FKT attempts and multi-day adventures for the following reasons:

  • Smartphone batteries rarely last for more than a day, especially in cold temps.
  • If you want to charge your smartphone and keep it alive for multiple days, you need heavy and bulky USB charger blocks. Solar chargers are too heavy, bulky, and inefficient for running.
  • Smartphone reception is anywhere from spotty to nonexistent in most outdoor areas. They are not a reliable communication means with the outside world.
  • If you do have reception, the temptation to check your social media accounts, your e-mail, the news, and send texts to your friends and family is considerable. That costs time and will add up over a long adventure. In addition, the possibility to be connected affects your experience in the outdoors—for me, at least, in a negative way.
  • Smartphones break easily.
  • In colder temps and in wet environments, when one is wearing gloves, smartphones are very inconvenient to use.
  • A modern smartphone weighs anywhere between 6 and 8oz. For comparison, a GoPro to take pics weighs 4.13oz, a Garmin eTrex 30 for navigation weighs 5oz with batteries.

How I decide what devices to carry

The decision on what devices to carry depends on several factors. I tried to visualize the decision process in the decision tree shown in Figure 3.

Figure 3. What devices to carry?!

For tracking/recording, I use an Suunto Ambit3 Peak. With a 1min GPS interval, it can record up to 200h according to Suunto specs. In reality, I am comfortable going to about 50h. That is why I will carry a charger if I think I will be on my way for more than 50h. For FKTs, I will always carry a second Suunto Ambit2 (redundancy!) as a backup device, either to jump in as a second recording or as a navigation device (see Figure 4).

Figure 4. One Suunto for recording, another one as a backup and/or for navigation. Redundancy!

The Ambit2 can record for about 30h on 1min GPS interval. If I need sporadic and simple navigation/route checks, I use the Ambit2. Note that the Suunto navigation mode puts the GPS interval back to 1s, so it will consume a lot more battery. I can navigate with the Ambit2 nonstop for about 16-18h usually. I always turn the navigation mode off if I don’t use it. It really is a battery sucker.

For more involved and/or the need for nonstop navigation assistance (e.g., off-trail movement), I will carry a Garmin eTrex 20x. It’s small, light, robust, reliable, and runs on 2 AA Lithium batteries for typically 30-48h if you record and navigate nonstop and turn down the backlight as much as possible. It also works great in extreme temperatures (e.g., Yukon, Alaska) and can easily be operated with gloves, even with thick mitts.

For any adventure that goes over 50h I will carry a GoalZero Guide 10 Plus Power Bank (more info below) that will allow me to charge the Suunto Ambit2 and 3 (plus the GoPro if I carry one) on the go. In the worst case, the power bank could also directly power the SPOT Gen3 through a USB cable. I will typically carry a set of 4 AA Lithium batteries for each 48 to 72h, depending on whether I carry a GoPro and depending on whether I use the Ambit2 for sporadic navigation. Batteries are heavy, so it’s always a difficult decision on how many extras to carry while keeping the risk of running out of power low.

In case the route recording with the Suunto Ambit2/3 fails, I would still have the SPOT recording as a proof of the FKT. While not very accurate (I use a 10min interval), it is generally an accepted proof.

The Suunto Ambit2/3 can only record up to 200h, independent of your GPS interval. After 200h, the recording will stop and you’ll have to start a new one. I’ve only run out of memory on the Ambit3 on the 17 day 15h (423h) Oregon Desert Trail FKT. To conserve memory, I could have played with the data recording frequency (independent of the GPS interval). To get the data off the watch, you’d need a phone or computer.

On FKTs that are shorter than 200h (~8 days), I will not stop/start the Ambits. Instead, I charge them periodically. If I sleep, I will typically charge every second night. If the adventure is longer than 200h, I will find a good moment before it stops automatically to stop it manually and immediately restart it so that I will record the entire route as accurately as possible.

In addition to all the devices, I will generally also carry scanned, scaled-down, and printed paper maps as well as a simple Silva Trail Running compass in case all my devices fail, especially of navigation is key to be successful.

How to keep the devices powered

The specs of each device will tell you how long your devices may work on a full battery charge. Almost always, the specs are outrageously optimistic. The specs of your GPS watch may tell you that your battery will last up to 30h, but in reality, you may not even get close to that. The battery life depends on a lot of factors, such as temperature, the number of cycles your device has been charged, how many different features you are using, whether your background light turns on and for how long, whether Bluetooth is on, what GPS interval you are using, how good your reception is (e.g., forrest vs open space), etc.

The bottom line is: you will need to figure out how long your devices typically last in specific environments. I would recommend that you don’t trust any numbers you can find online. They seem to rarely be accurate and may not take into account your specific type of usage.

Once you have a good idea on how long you can for example track an adventure with your GPS watch, how long your headlamp lasts, and how long you can navigate with your GPS, you will be able to make informed decisions about extra batteries and the need to charge your devices.

What batteries to use

I’ve used rechargeable AA and AAA batteries for all my headlamps, GPS, and the SPOT for years, but after experiencing a number of battery failures (e.g., not properly charged, end of lifecycle, etc.), decided to solely rely on Lithium batteries. Compared to rechargeable and regular alkaline batteries, Lithium batteries last longer, are significantly lighter, and perform significantly better in colder temperatures. The biggest drawback is that they cost significantly more.

Table 1 shows a comparison of the different AA battery types. The higher the normalized “Capacity / (Weight x Cost)” ratio, the more capacity and the less weight you get for your bucks. If you value capacity, weight, and cost equally, the Alkaline cell is the winner. But if you care mostly about capacity and weight, the Lithium cell wins.

AA single cell Alkaline NiMH Rechargeable Lithium
Capacity 2,500mAh 2,400mAh 3,000mAh
Weight 23g 31g 14.5g
Cost $0.50 $3.50 $1.50
Normalized Capacity / (Weight x Cost) ratio 7.8 0.8 5.0

Table 1. Battery type comparison. The data may vary by brand.

How to charge USB devices

My Suunto Ambit2 and 3 as well as the GoPro need to be recharged via a USB port. Instead of carrying a USB charger block, which itself needs to be charged, I carry a GoalZero Guide 10 Plus Power Bank (see Figure 5) that takes either 4 AA or AAA batteries (with adapter). That means on longer adventures, I can carry extra AA batteries to charge my devices without worrying about recharging a USB charger block. Also, the fact that I can use both AA and AAA batteries gives me flexibility.

The GoalZero 10 Plus Power Bank charges a Suunto Ambit GPS watch (see Figure 6) to 100% from almost zero % in 2-3 hours on new AA Lithium batteries. With whatever charge is left in a set of batteries, I may charge the GoPro while I sleep. The GoPro takes a lot longer to charge than the Suunto watch.

I have never tried to charge a phone with the GoalZero 10 Plus Power Bank. I assume it would be difficult to charge it fully. The specs say that it will provide a 50-100% boost for smartphones. Thus, the charger does not seem to be a valid solution for multi-day adventures where you need to charge your phone.

Figure 5. GoalZero 10 Plus Power Bank with AAA adapter (included).

Figure 6. GoalZero 10 Plus Power Bank charging an Suunto Ambit3.

Can you spot the single points of failure (SPOF) in my setup?

Communication with the outside world

For years I’ve been relying solely on a SPOT Gen3 satellite tracker (see Figure 7) to communicate with the outside world. It allows for one-way messaging only, which is my preference. There are several other features I like about the SPOT Gen3:

  • Its batteries (4 AAA) are exchangeable. That means you can carry extra batteries and don’t have to rely on a USB charger, as some of the more recent devices require (e.g., Garmin inReach Mini).
  • Depending on temperatures, its batteries (I use Lithium) will keep it powered for 5-10 days (using a 10min tracking interval).
  • It’s robust, reliable, works in very low temperatures, and is relatively foolproof.
  • You don’t need a smartphone with an app to use its features.
  • The subscription is relatively affordable.

Figure 7. SPOT Gen3 satellite messenger.

The biggest drawback of any one-way messaging device is that you do not know if and when a message has been received. If you are in a dense forest or in a narrow valley, there’s a very good chance that your message will not go through. Once again, the more you use your tracker, the better of a sense you will get when it will likely work and when it will likely not. Test, test, test, especially in situations that are not critical.

A solution to address some of that messaging uncertainty is to send several messages. As a general rule, I keep sending abort messages until I have reached the bailout location. That allows the crew to see where I am moving towards and how fast I’m moving.

My SPOT is configured with three pre-defined messages that were refined over several years. They seem to cover all cases we’ve encountered so far:

  1. OK: “Checking in. I might be great, okay, or miserable. There is no emergency and no action is needed.”
  2. Custom: “Need help or supplies. Not an emergency. Moving to nearest location or meet at current location if not moving.”
  3. Help: “Help needed in a non-life-threatening situation. This is an urgency, not an emergency.”

The messages are sent to my wife’s smartphone via text and e-mail and to the satellite phone (see “Crew devices” section below). The “Help” message goes to a larger list of friends who could take action.

If you have a crew that follows you, needs to meet you at a specific location and/or at a specific time, or pick you up at the end of your adventure, I recommend that you play through as many scenarios as you can imagine. For example:

  • What if you accidentally sent an abort message? We have a rule that if an OK message follows an abort message, then things are back to normal.
  • What if the crew car breaks down? Or a tree blocks the forest road. Where will you move to if no one is picking you up or meeting you on the way? How long will you wait? Will you leave a message that you were there? Where? How? 
  • How long will your crew wait to check on you or send help if your SPOT does not move and/or stopped working? 
  • What will your crew do if you took off but your SPOT never sends a single message (e.g., misconfigured, forgot to put in tracking mode, etc)? When and where will they meet you in that case?
  • What will your crew do if you deviate from the planned route? We have a rule that I’d send OK messages if plans have changed.

Many of these scenarios will depend on your type of adventure. But not matter what you are doing, it’s worthwhile thinking through as many hypothetical scenarios as possible. Even more so if your crew is inexperienced and/or has not worked with you before. For big adventures, we write things down and make sure that both the runner and the crew have a copy and know what to do in the different situations that were discussed. It’s easy to forget things when you (or your crew) is sleep-deprived, under stress, or distracted.

Crew devices

Receiving SPOT messages without cell phone reception

For many of the adventures I’ve done (e.g., Oregon Desert Trail), the crew cannot rely on cell phone service if they have to pick you up at the end of the trip or in the middle of nowhere after you had to bail.

The solution we devised uses a satellite phone that directly receives my SPOT messages (see Figure 8). Thus, the crew can operate completely autonomously and independently of any cell phone network. That has been a game changer and has allowed to safely complete adventures while removing a lot of constraints for the crew.

Figure 8. Off-the-grid communication solution: my SPOT messages are sent directly to an Iridium Go satellite communication hub.

The Iridium Go (see Figure 9) is a communication hub that allows for global voice calling and text messaging with a smartphone. It’s easy to use, allows multiple users to connect their smartphones, and can also be used to post on social media, check the weather, or read e-mail. It’s an expensive gadget with an even more expensive subscription. Yet, it has enabled many adventures that may have been difficult and/or unsafe to execute otherwise.

Figure 9. Iridium Go satellite communication hub.

Whenever a message comes in on the satellite phone (only OK, Custom, and Help messages are sent), my crew will enter my location into GaiaGPS on an iPad.

In case you have to bail, you should clearly have identified and agreed on possible bailout locations. Ideally, you should also have prepared maps and driving directions for your crew to get to those locations (see Figure 10). If not, you risk waiting a lot longer until someone will pick you. I generally prepare the route I will follow on GaiaGPS, including bailout locations (with markers), and car access points (also with markers). That’s then all loaded on an iPad that my crew will use if they have to come and pick me up in the middle of nowhere.

Figure 10. A typical off-the-grid crew setup with paper maps (reliable!), pace tables, an iPad to run GaiaGPS, and an Iridium Go satellite communication hub.

Keeping the crew powered

If your crew has to follow you for days or weeks, they will need to charge their devices. Depending on how much driving is done, that can be done in the car or in hotels perhaps. However, often the crew cannot stay in hotels, does not drive very far, and instead has to wait for long hours at the next meeting point in the middle of nowhere. In that case, we found that a completely off-the-grid solution works best. A GoalZero Yeti 150 power block with a Nomad 28 solar panel (see Figure 11) allows to charge the satellite phone, smartphone(s), iPad(s), laptop(s), and lights.

Figure 11. Off-the grid power solution to charge the crew devices: GoalZero Yeti 150 with GoalZero Nomad 28 solar panel.

Figure 12. Off-the-grid crew basecamp for the 75mi Steens Range Traverse FKT.

Conclusion

Whatever devices and setup you use for recording and tracking your FKTs, test, test, and test some more. Test everything before you attempt an FKT or an adventure where things will need to work. Test how long your devices last, how long it takes to charge them, how they react to different temperatures, how they work in the forest, in narrow canyons, and in whatever environments you plan to use them. The more you learn about your devices and your setup, the more you’ll be able to trust things, and the more likely you’ll be successful in claiming an FKT.

References

[1] https://gearjunkie.com/how-to-record-your-fkt-speed-record

[2] https://www.outsideonline.com/2297576/so-you-want-set-fkt