Miles & Milestones

It seems that we’ve been making a habit of entering the last several states with an intense series of events, and Pennsylvania was no exception. Looking back, we came to realize that our first day in Massachusetts was spent descending Mt. Graylock in the fury of a storm, in Connecticut it was severe dehydration, and lastly, New York was filled with magic and being kidnapped by kind strangers.

Our first day hiking in Pennsylvania, we left the Delaware Water Gap behind and began our climb out of the river basin. The weather was overcast and cool, but we knew rain was coming in a day or so. With this in mind, we hiked a quick six miles to the highway, where we put our thumbs out in hopes of catching a ride into the post office a few towns over. We figured it would be better to get our box earlier in the day, rather than being held up in the rain -should we wait till the afternoon and risk the post being closed.

We stood on the side of the road for ten minutes or so, until a man with a little red toyota full of tools pulled over for us. He said he could get us to the first town, but not all the way, which we happily agreed to. As we got to talking, we discovered our driver was probably one of the most interesting people we’ve ever met. A retired captain, who traveled the world opening scuba diving shops in exotic lands, he now spends most his time restoring British double-decker buses .

Pretty soon we realized our driver wasn’t stopping in the first town, and was instead driving us clear over to the Wind Gap post office. When we arrived, he informed us that if were quick, he would wait for us and help get us back to the trail head. So much more than we had expected, we ran in, ran out, and hopped back in his car.

As we headed back to the trail, he asked if we wanted to take a quick detour to see his busses, five in total. Intrigued, we could not resist the offer, and before we knew it we were in his warehouse getting the nickel tour. It turns out he also had connections to Tucson, and spent time down there restoring old planes.

It was a surprising twist to the afternoon, but as always, we are just along for the ride. After an hour or so, we made our move to get back on trail, but soon realized we had forgotten something crucial – water.

Luckily the day was still cool, and the trail forgiving in its grade so the miles went quick. But we didn’t stop moving till we got to the next source, about another nine miles down the trail. We avoided severe dehydration, but we were still damn thirsty by the time we got there. Welcome to Pennsylvania.

Our second day in this new state was a little more forgiving. While we finally found all the rocks and boulders that we had been warned about for hundreds of miles, it seems that there is always a relief section of smooth trail following the rocky bits.

To our surprise, there was a lot of ridge walking in Pennsylvania; more than any other state to date. The ridges were impressively well graded, so despite the prominence, we climbed dramatically less than in the states further north. If it weren’t for the rocky terrain, we could easily of hiked marathons every day.

On one of these ridges we crossed through a superfund site, where the land and soil was heavily polluted from an old zinc smelter. As they are now in the process of revegetating the mountain, there was nothing exciting to see, save the expansive views along the ridge.

In the Mid-Atlantic and south, the term for a gorge or canyon is a gap; in New England they were referred to as notches. Whatever you want to call it, we eventually descended down off our ridge into one of these gorges called Lehigh gap, a steep rocky scramble down to the highway and river below.

When we got to the bottom we were treated with trail magic by another hiker who had just completed her north bound hike. Despite the rain, we set up our tarp and crammed six or seven pungent hikers underneath, overwhelmed by the pizza, snacks and beverages. We spent most of the afternoon there, and gave up our hopes of making a big mile day. When we finally left, we were so full that the seven tenths of a mile uphill to our shelter seemed to take hours.

We got up early in the dewy morning, and did our best to isolate the wet gear. The trail through here was over grown, so as we made our first miles of the day, everything from the knees down became soaked from the overgrown grass covered in morning dew. To complement this, the trail was also exceptionally rocky and water sources were scarce.

But the day was filled with more ridge walking, and the views were bountiful. We passed by Bake Oven Knob, more affectionately known as spray paint heaven; a prominent out cropping of rocks covered in graffiti, perhaps a right of passage of sorts. As we came down the side, we were surpised with more trail magic at the highway crossing. The partner of another SoBo hiker, Cheerio showed up with more pizza and drinks for all.

After a rejuvenating time on the side of the highway, we hiked another eleven miles to the town of Eckville. Here we found the Eckville shelter, a privately owned peice of land with a bunk house, tenting field, flush toilets and a caretaker. As far as shelters go, it was luxurious; but the charging station and potable tap water put it over the top.

We woke up dewy once again, and began hiking early with wet boots and shoes. As we started down the trail, I took a closer look at the maps for the day, and found a significant cut-off. Eager to get to town earlier in the day, and growing impatient with the excessively rocky terrain, we cut six or seven miles of poorly routed trail off. Our alternate followed an old road grade that had since been converted into a trail. It was smooth and easy going, and after a mile it dumped us right back into the trail.

We made it into the town of Hamburg / Port Clinton by early afternoon. We made a quick resupply thanks to some kind strangers who picked us up on the highway and shuttled us into town. We had heard rumors that these were very hiker friendly towns, and it couldn’t have been more true.

We set up our camp on the edge of town, at a pavilion designated for thru-hikers. The local chruch owned and maintained it, and it was a great spot for the night. Nearby we payed a visit to famous Frank’s Barber Shop, a local business with a great reputation amongst hikers. When we arrived, Frank personally introduced himself to the three of us, Mandalynn, Bard and I. He showed us the hiker box full of snacks, the complementary charging station, the hiker area… and the instruments. Throughout the barber shop were dozens of guitars, some for sale, some to play.

When he found out that Bard knew how to play, he turned down the stereo and pointed to a guitar. As Bard began the room went quiet, and he blew us all away. For an hour he picked Led Zeplin and Neil Young, even some blues he wrote himself. At one point, Frank could not resist the temptation and stopped in the middle of a hair cut to pull out his harmonica and join in. What proceeded was one of the best jam sessions I have heard in a long time.

After the shop closed and Frank eventually kicked us all out, we wandered back to our pavilion home, and settled down for the night. With the occasional dull roar of the freight trains coming down across the river, we slept soundly and uninterrupted through the night.

When morning came, we wandered out of town and back into the mountains. We crossed through a historic train yard on our way out, filled with all sorts of old railroad memorabilia. The climb out of the yard was one of the steepest we’d had in a long time, but the even grade and countless switchbacks made the going a little easier.

Shortly after we got on top of the ridgeline, we found a dirt road that paralleled the trail for some seven or eight miles. While it may have been slightly shorter than the trail, it provided some relief from the all the rocks that cover the trail. For several hours we walked side by side, enjoying coversation and looking at the trees and sky instead of our footing.

After we eventually rejoined the trail, I got stung by some sort of massive insect, perhaps a hornet. We took a short break next to a small pond where some imaginative and engineering minds devised a zipline rope swing into the water, and here I took some benadryl and ibuprofen. The former made hiking slow and difficult, and our last miles into camp seemed to grow longer by the minute. But we finished the day at a developed shelter, with bunks, running water, and pizza delivery. The Appalachian trail is a strange place.

The next morning, all the SoBo’s left as one big group, eager to hit one of our first big milestones together – the one thousand mile mark! Together we used our snacks to make a commemorative sign and documented the milestone, before succumbing to the temptation of eating our sign.

We soon dropped down to the Swatara gap and river, where we crossed over a massive wooden and steel bridge. It may have been used for vehicles at one time, but now it has been demoted to the fanciest pedestrian bridge of the trail thus far.

As we hiked up from the other side of the river, we could see dark clouds coming together and making trouble. It wasn’t technically supposed to rain for another day, but the sky begged to differ, so we pushed on as quickly as we could.

On our way into camp we crossed over a beaver dam, the slowest tenth of a mile on the entire trail. In many places it was so flooded that the trail was a couple of feet underwater. Keeping our feet dry was an impossibility, and by the time we reached the otherside nobody was in a good mood.

Soon after, the skies decided to begin teasing us with rain; sprinkling here and there, but never clearing up. We pushed on for another few miles before ending our day in an old haunted coal mining camp. The story goes that while an Indian man was out hunting, a group of renegade soldiers murdered his family. When the man returned, he tracked the soldiers back to their camp and killed them all, save one. The last soldier killed him, and so the Indian man haunts the site to this day, waiting for his revenge. The thick fog didn’t help calm our nerves, especially once Bard woke up in the morning and swore he could hear someone playing taps….

The fog hung around late into the morning, so we hiked out into the mist hoping that it would eventually burn off. As the morning warmed up it eventually did, which made the ridge walking far more enjoyable.

While the ridgelines provided some good views of greater metropolitan Pennsylvania, they were also very dry. As a result our day was planned around questionable water sources, limiting the breaks in between. After 25 miles of this we made our final descent for the day into the town of Duncannon, a trail town of legendary magnitude.

As in Delaware Water Gap, there was a church here that opened up its basement to thru-hikers. With showers, a small kitchen, and a place to sleep, we were more than grateful. We quickly set up our beds, put on our rain gear, and headed to the laundromat. It may have been nine pm already, but I suppose that is the beauty of a 24/7 laundromat. After waiting for hours, we walked back to the church basement, and fell fast asleep, thoroughly exhausted.

Admist all the other hikers sleeping on the floor of the basement, we didn’t sleep terribly well, but got up early in the morning just the same. After making coffee and a little breakfast, we packed up our things and headed over to the post office to retrieve some packages. On top of our usual resupply, came a package from a friend back in California, full of extra snacks and goodies. It was a sweet reminder of all the wonderful people we meet along the way, and we were beyond thankful that they were willing to go out of there way to show their support.

After getting all our food organized we grabbed our packs and began to make our way out of town. We stopped at the convenience store to grab a few last minute items, and as we were standing in the empty parking lot putting our snacks away, a car drove up right next to us and parked.

A man got out and asked if we were hikers. He then introduced himself as Steve, and asked if we were hungry. There is of course only one answer to this question when you are thru-hiking, so with this he really peaked our interest. He said that he lived nearby, and that he had a bunch of leftovers from their Labor day celebration the day prior, moreover, he had a pool. At the mention of the later we were in his car and ready to go.

It was a short drive up the hill to his house, and after a nickel tour he offered us cold refreshments. As we got to talking, we let on that the rest of our trail family, all eight or nine of them, were still back in town. Steve immediately offered to pick them up as well, and soon we had ourselves a party.

Steve fired up the grill, and before we knew what was happening, he was cooking up several pounds of venison, and a couple dozen ears of local sweet corn. We all about died and went to heaven, but came back to float in the pool some more. After a beautiful afternoon in the sun, we finally extracted ourselves from the pool, and made moves to finally get out of town.

But around this time we got sweet talked into going to the Doyle hotel and bar instead. One of the last Anheiser owned hotels in the country, the place was full of history and character. The bar keep was great reason to visit in herself, the woman had us all rolling on the floor in stitches. At one point Maple broke his glass while playing pool, so she promptly came out with a child’s sippy cup and informed him he could drink out of that from now on…

After eating the largest plate of fries in human history and taking in all that was the Doyle, we conceded that we would not be hiking out tonight and walked back to the church instead. Sometimes the days end far from where you expected, but given the circumstances we certainly can’t complain. It was a great belated labor day, one that will be remembered for a long time to come.

We slept much better in the basement that night, and got up before the rest to start hiking. Duncanon had been very good to us, but we were feeling the need to keep hiking.

We climbed out of town up to Hawk rock, and between our fresh resupply and day off, the climb was a slow one. After one more small climb we descended down into the Cumberland valley, home of 14 miles of flat rock-less trail stretching through corn and soy fields. While it may have been hot, the miles went fast, and the absence of rocks seemed divine. Depsite all the farms, there was little water through here, so we didn’t stop often.

By late afternoon we hit the town of Boiling Springs, and we sat in the park cooking our dinner as the last of the day’s heat dissapated. After it had begun to cool down, we pushed on for a few more miles, watching the sunset from the corn fields. We arrived at camp in the dark, but after a 29 mile day, we couldn’t complain.

Sleeping in to make up for the long day prior, we left camp with a lazy pace around mid-morning. We took a few short breaks at the first couple water sources for the day, a spring and a couple creeks. But for the most part, we did our best to keep our momentum going so we could make it to the Pine Grove Furnace state park by mid afternoon.

Here we found the the one and only Appalachian trail museum, filled with memorabilia from some of the first trail blazers and legends. Well loved walking sticks and old tools littered the walls, with stories and biographies about all the greats. The museum itself sits very near the trail’s midpoint, but as the length changes annualy, so does the half way marker. Nonetheless it was a good place to celebrate a high point on our journey, even if it was a few miles off.

As part of the Appalachian trail tradition, at this half way point hikers normally engage in the “Half-gallon Challenge,” to eat a half-gallon of ice cream in celebration. But when we arrived at the general store it was closed, making for a lot of disappointed hikers.

We eventually moved on and hiked out, putting another ten miles behind us without much thought. Our (dairy-free) ice cream will have to come another day.

After a casual morning, we left the shelter and continued our great southern migration. After a few miles we came upon the Milesburn cabin, a picturesque log home along the trail. Soon after came the quarry gap shelter, one of the most elaborate and well built shelters we have seen in a long time. Considering many of the shelters in northern Pennsylvania left a lot to be desired, these last two structures compensated immensely.

After a smooth ten miles, we crossed through Caledonia state park with its wide paths and babbling brooks. On the other side we crossed highway 80, and hung our thumbs in an attempt to get into the town of Fayetteville. After baking on the black top and nearly being blown away by the semis for half an hour, we lost our patience and called a cab.

We resupplied our snacks at the Family Dollar, and then made our way across the street to the gas station where there was free wifi. As we stood outside, we got to talking with a local by the name of Kent, anxious to know all about us and the trail. After talking for a good while, we went to go our seperate ways, but Kent insisted on giving each of us (three including Bard) a twenty dollar bill. “Splurge he said, you guys deserve it!” With that we went back in and bought a few more snacks….

Thanks to another local named Earl, we replenished our canteens and got back to the trail without much difficulty. We sluggishly made another five miles before giving in and making camp – our shortest day in weeks, albeit fifteen miles.

We woke up hours before the sun, and since we were in a dry camp without a water source, skipped our morning coffee and usual breakfast. We ate a couple quick snacks, packed up our things, and left camp by headlamp.

Miles always seem to go by the fastest in morning, especially when we are treated to a good sunrise. While we left in the dark, soon the blues and purples began to fill the forest air as the sun made its approach. As we continued walking the oranges and reds began to subtly fade in, growing more intense by the minute – until the sun itself finally emerged, lighting the valleys on fire.

We stopped into the first shelter we saw to fill our canteens, and took a short second-breakfast break. The shelter was a quaint one, with two seperated sleeping areas, one for snoring and one for non-snoring.

It was then a long push to our next decent water source, eight or so miles. When we finally came up on the old mining camp, we were exausted and in need of a good break, but we had accomplished one of our ongoing challenges for the first time; ten miles by 10:00 am. This set us up nicely for a big mile day, so as soon as we felt somewhat rested, we were back on the trail.

That was when we hit one of the greatest landmarks on the trail so far; the Mason-Dixon line. Synonymous with the Maryland / Pennsylvania border, we have finally arrived in the south! For a very long time we have imagined this moment as being indefinitely far off, so to be standing there seemed surreal, far more so than the thousand mile mark, or the half way point. After having some enthusiastic strangers take our pictures, we moved on to finish our record day.

We took a few more short breaks throughout the afternoon, but for the most part we kept our feet on the trail and our eyes to the south. After thirteen hours of hiking, we concluded our momentus day of thirty miles at the pine knob shelter. Throughly tired and sore, we were surprised and thankful when we discovered we had the shelter all to ourselves. And just like that, we were half way across Maryland!

After such a long day, no one was anxious to get up early; instead we rested our achy bones for a couple extra hours before finally leaving camp around mid-morning. We soon found ourselves at one of the many Washington memorials, where we ran into hoards of fragrant day hikers, and learned all sorts of interesting facts about Washington’s life.

As we left the memorial we found the old Appalachian trail, and followed it up to the lamb’s knoll lookout tower. Along our route we walked through some old battle fields from the civil war, and even passed by a re-enactment. It is strange to us that upon crossing the Mason – Dixon line, it would appear we’ve walked into another world. In our naive ways, we believed that the transition would be more subtle and drawn out, but it is not so. Welcome to the south…

We spent the afternoon ridge walking high above all the towns below. While the trail was still rocky through here, it was still a great improvement over what we saw in Pennsylvania. After a couple hours on the ridge we dropped down into Crafton notch, where another major battle from the civil war took place. Many old stone buidlings from that era still stood, and the masonry was some of the best I’d ever seen.

By late afternoon we made our final descent down into Harper’s Ferry. A well rounded day, we finished crossing Marland (all forty miles of it) and made our way into West Virginia. We spent the night at a hostel, one of the first we have seen since Vermont, camping in the yard, cleaning up, and making a huge breakfast.

Here we looked into the possibility of visiting Washington DC, and found that it was short and inexpensive train ride away. Without much deliberation, we bought tickets for the 11:30 train leaving out of Harper’s Ferry.

Being on a train felt surreal after living life at three miles per hour. We have certainly ridden in cars on several occasions, but the train was so smooth in its operation, and gentle in its grades. It felt as if we were gliding through the trees. We left the historic confluence behind, and an hour later our train pulled into Union Station just outside the capital. Backpacks and wooden walking sticks in tow, we definitely garnered more than a few stares.

Upon our immediate arrival, we were first overwhelmed by the food court. Such diversity in fast food has long escaped us; after a long discussion we settled on giant burritos from Chipotle. Never has a burrito tasted so good.

After our stomachs were temporarily filled, we ventured out into the greater halls and were dumbstruck by the grandeur and magnitude of it all. From the gold plated ceilings to the dozens of larger than life statues depicting the defense of liberty, it was a lot to take in. After walking in circles and staring at the ceiling, much to the amusement of the locals, we made our way outside.

We made a quick trip to visit the capital building, and decided that since the day was still young, we would try to visit a museum. As we walked in to the National Museum of the American Indian, we were confronted with several security personnel, metal detectors and bag checks. They informed us that all zippers, bags, and pockets had to be opened and searched, and that we had to carry our packs while we were in the museum. After a quick consideration, we decided our fuel canisters, knives, and bulky packs weren’t very museum friendly, and decided to come back another day better prepaired.

We hopped onto the DC metro, and rode the underground rails a short ways east to a friends house. Someone we had met earlier in hike in Maine, “Highlights,” let us sleep on his floor and take over his kitchen. We made some fresh tempeh sandwiches for dinner, and enjoyed catching up on our travels well into the evening.

We caught the metro back out in the morning, but this time we left our packs behind at Highlights house. After a quick ride, we walked out into the middle of the mall and chose our first museum for the day. We settled on the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, and soon we found ourselves joining the herds of tourists flocking from one exhibit to the next. Our primary interest here was the mineral and fossil collection, which did not disappoint. From space rocks, to a multitude of some of the finest semi-precious gem specimens I’ve ever seen, we got lost for hours.

After exhausting the mineral collection, we moved over to the National Museum of the American Indian for a second attempt at entry. Without our big packs the process was smooth, and soon we found ourselves becoming distracted by the few pieces on display in the lobby. Of particular interest was the tomahawk / pipe that belonged to Chief Joseph of the Nez Peirce. Soon the distraction overwhelmed us as we immersed ourselves in history and artifacts. It was a phenomenal museum, the type you could return to half a dozen times and still learn something new with each visit.

After a lunch break, we ventured over to the botanical gardens and explored the different artificial ecosystems. The Orchid room was our favorite of the bunch, with several dozen varieties scattered about. But soon the humidity of the green house began to take its toll on us, so we sought out some shade and took another break before moving on.

Shifting gears we began visiting the various monuments scattered around the mall, taking time to read the quotes and speeches along the way. Each was unique in its own right, and their scale was far greater than pictures could do justice. The Jefferson memorial was one of our favorites, but Abraham’s was equally impressive. We watched the sunset at the latter before finally finding the metro and going back “Home,” for the night. For a day off, we sure did our fair share of walking.

We were not able to catch a train back to Harper’s Ferry till late in the afternoon the next day, so we spent the morning sleeping in, making some minor repairs, and eating well. As we rolled back into West Virginia, the rain poured down, much to our disappointment. But when we got to the station the sky began to clear and the sun came out. Nonetheless it was still incredibly humid and sticky, making our climb out of town a challenging one. We only made a couple miles, but it felt great to be on the trail again – the closest thing to a home we’ve had in almost three months.

From here we are walking in the great state of Virginia for the next five hundred miles. The longest state on the AT, we will be there for a a few weeks. With Shenandoah National Park in our near furute, we are excited to get back to some wilderness and mountains. To the south!

Cheers from the trail!

Stump and Mandalynn