5/29/08 26.5 miles to Bake Oven Knob Shelter
Today I bruised my feet on some relentlessly rocky terrain. I earned my rest here at the Bake Oven lounge now that I found Philadelphia’s jazz station on my radio. Instantly I banished the eerie aura of this tiny antique shelter and found some company with the captains of swing. My new friends from today include Start and the Tennessee Twins: Pseudo and Two Shoes. Aha! They just arrived.
5/28/08 6 miles to Windsor Furnace Shelter
It’s funny what a fickle thing fortune can be. Immediately after stepping into Port Clinton last night, I was offered a ride into the shopping center at Hamburg, PA, saving me a desolate highway walk. I was even driven back by my trail angel, Ana May, to the Pavilion, a spacious shelter and park in town that allows free camping. There I met two groovy South-bounders, Kofia and Halfstride. I consumed a whole range of good dairy products and drifted to sleep gently in my hammock. This morning however, Ana May wasn’t home. The Port Clinton Hotel, which offers showers, didn’t open until 11am and only the local outfitter offered a ride to Hamburg—for $20—too steep for a 2-mile drive.
But instantly again my luck shifted… the Cabela’s shuttle picked me up from the street, almost collided with my trail angel friend, Ana May. She offered me her phone later in the afternoon. Wow, what a change in fate. Hopefully I can clean my moldy laundry in Palmerton to complete my blessings.
5/26/08 17.8 miles to 501 Shelter, near Pine Grove, PA
My relationship with Pennsylvania has been an odd and fickle one. Most of today’s hiking was on gentle, beautiful ridges, lined with cushioned dirt. Yet there are tracts that appear spontaneously, littered with towering, jagged rocks. Perhaps someone drove the granite truck up the mountain for an accidental delivery. Though I have neglected to include it recently, everyday I have seen a sprightly weathered couple on the trail consistently for the last week—hiking in the opposite direction. After our first encounter I began to wonder how I could pass south-bounders repeatedly. After we began meeting consistently about noontime I had the opportunity to learn that they, Perry and Melinda, thruhiked in ’86 and have since been rambling around scenic trails. Sadly today was my last day meeting them, for they are returning home to Oregon to resume an easy life.
Anyway, tonight I am at the legendary 501 Shelter, a pilgrimage for thru-hikers for its proximity to an Italian restaurant that actually delivers here. Sadly, it is Memorial Day and the delivery is unavailable. Chris and Andrew, the flip-floppers, are here to share my disappointment. I compensated simply by eating two dinners tonight.
5/25/08 17.8 miles Rausch Gap Shelter
I feel surprisingly fatigues after just easy terrain and rolling ridges today. I can only attribute the effect to either Lyme Disease, which I don’t have or to a caloric deficit, which I do have. I have regretted passing by the half-gallon ice cream challenge recently. In Port Clinton, I will definitely conquer the half-gallon, maybe even twice!
5/24/08 15.4 miles to Peters Mountain Shelter
I am slowly breaking away from the gravity of towns, evident from my swift passage through Duncannon, PA. I stopped at the Doyle Hotel, where I was able to completely resupply by the generosity of Pat and Vicky, the landowners. The building itself is very impressive, the centerpiece of the pioneer atmosphere in Duncannon. I only spent $2 in the city, but I regret not buying a pint of ice cream now that I’m deep in the woods. Since it is Memorial Day Weekend, I am sharing the shelter with several section-hikers, as well as two flip-floppers, Andrew and Matt, who are coincidentally from Winston-Salem. Hunger is currently my dominating instinct.
5/23/08 22 miles to Cove Mountain Shelter
A day that began lightheartedly in the quaint city of Boiling Springs was quickly consumed by the lovely vortex of the woods. After waiting for my mail and eating a quart of yogurt, I was not able to start hiking until 11:00am. The terrain of the Cumberland Valley is gentle and placid farmland, which makes for a deceptive challenge. Though it is flat, the ground is in constant exposure to the sun’s oppressive rays, which easily tired me. But only after reentering the ridgeline did I feel the real haunting pulse of the wilderness. It was the inexplicable maddening drive that led me past the company of the first shelter to the uncertainty of the next, which convinced me how far into this journey I am.
Here is what I wrote in the shelter register tonight: “After three nights alone a man really has a better glimpse into the depths of his soul. Once an endeavor has ceased to be a challenge, and after it has culminated with triumph, it becomes an obsession—a maddening gravity that draws us from our minds. Just like Chris McCandless (of Into the Wild fame) we must determine how deep into the woods we can go. Just like Narcissus, we must determine how close to the water we can stand. And just like Ahab, we must know how far into lonely waters we can sail before we lose sight of our soul and our quest consumes us.”
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