Date: 2005-04-07
From: Birch Run Shelter

To: Ironmasters Mansion Hostel
Miles today: 9.9
Weather: overcast clouds

The crunch of my boots on the gravelThe rattle of my boots on the stones The splash of my boots in the water The squelch of my boots in the mudThe swish of my boots in the grass The crack of my boots on a twigThe squeal of my boots on the rocksThe rustle of my boots in the leavesThe quiet of my boots on the needles of pine.I had company just before dinner last night. Six students ¢ three male and three female ¢ from a local college arrived to check out the shelter. They came up from Shippenbury Road to the north, and thought that the shelters, and I, were the ¢neatest things they had ever seen¢ Although each carried a daypack, the contents seemed to be entirely beer cans! To each their own method of hydration ¢ or dehydration ¢ as the case may be. We had a good time talking and chatting, and despite their naivety ¢ or maybe because of it ¢ I was sad to see them go and leave me to another solo night.   I slept late this morning in anticipation of a short day and knowing that the hostel would not be open until 5PM. It was another nice day, overcast and breezy, but not cold. The trail was well maintained, and before arriving at Dead Woman Hollow Road [!] I met Hawk ¢ my first SOBO thru hiker. He had come SOBO last year all the way to North Carolina before being forced off in mid December because of the weather. He had started SOBO again this year at Boiling Springs. Such a pleasure to meet another long distance hiker. We are such a small company that we all seem to share unspoken bonds of companionship even though we are usually complete strangers.      I continued to wander on, and even though I was trying to walk even slower than normal, I was soon lunching at Toms Run Shelter and was here at Pine Grove Furnace State Park by early afternoon.      This is a very interesting spot. It is the site of an old iron ore furnace and the hostel is the former Ironmasters Mansion. I spent a pleasant afternoon exploring the area. The camp store was closed, so I was unable to participate in the benign but gluttonous ritual of eating a half-gallon of ice cream and thus joining the ¢Half Gallon Club¢ to celebrate the real half way point of the trail.   The afternoon began to cloud over and, fearing rain, I sat under the veranda of the hostel. As I watched a crowd of hawks ¢ there were at least twenty ¢ riding the thermals over the larch trees, I heard the sound of piano music plaintively playing coming from the hostel behind me. It was one of those rare magical moments, the gathering storm clouds, the larches, the hawks, the old mansion, the piano music; it all came together in a sort of perfect unison of harmony. Trail magic in its purest form!      The warden here is Donna Rozychi ¢ no relation to Grace ¢ and it was she that I had to thank for the music. She let me in before 5PM and was more than kind. I am the only one here so far, and the only visitor to stay overnight in the fast four days. Donna is a slight thin lady with a faintly wistful air about her. She has been here for less than a year, and gives the impression that she is still not entirely settled into the job. Rather like a reversed ¢Phantom of the Opera¢ I left a message for KT from the pay phone in the park. Donna said that I could use my phone card with the house phone here so I will try to talk with KT later, even if I do have to keep it short.   Am now post shower and dinner and well contented with life.Thought for today-      Be alert for confluences of simple experiences, which can synergize into magical moments.