Date: 2006-07-01
To: View Entry
Miles today: 0.0

It rained through the night but wasn¢t too bad in the morning. The sun came out later in the day and became hot. The rocks have started to become a problem. Of course there have been rocks all along but they are getting worse. Pennsylvania is known for its rocks and they get worse the farther north you get. The problem is the size of the rocks. They are just the size that you can¢t put your foot down on solid ground. Besides not being able to put your foot down it¢s hard to get a full stride in. The rocks pound your feet till they turn numb. Even though my feet were numb I still made decent time. During the day we got separated from Tex. Once we rolled into Port Clinton timing became an issue. We weren¢t sure what we were going to do but we decided to celebrate FDR's birthday. The plan was to hitch into town and get some beer to drink at the town pavilion where they allow hikers to stay for free. We stood by the road debating whether or not to hitch in. Once we made the decision to hitch into town FDR and I stuck our thumbs out. We caught the first car coming. We had to yell to Mule who didn¢t even know we had gotten a ride yet. Mule and I hopped in the back of the truck and put FDR up front to chit chat with the guy driving. This was the first time we learned the messed up beer laws that Pennsylvania has. He took us to the next town over to the distributor that was closed. So he dropped us off at the grocery story that had a liquor store connected to it. While in the isles of the store I hear a "WOW" come from the row over. It was FDR when he saw the pop tart selection. It¢s amazing the small things that excite people out on the trail. While sitting out front of the store a guy came up and started talking to us. He said he had hiked before but only weekends. He offered to give us a ride back to Port Clinton. We grabbed subs and were on our way. When in the car one thing led to another and next thing we ended up back at his house. We hung out for a while on the back porch. He had a nice house with an even better back yard with a beautiful view of Pennsylvania farm land. He offered to let us camp in his back yard but we needed to get back to Port Clinton. He gave us a ride back after a while and dropped us off in town. We were sitting there on the steps of the closed post office eating our Subway talking about how timing changed everything out here and you never know what will happen next. We walked down to the pavilion to see what it was like. It wasn¢t the nicest place I have ever been but it would do. We hung out for a while then rallied the troops to go down to the bar to celebrate. When we walked into the bar the music basically stopped. All the locals looked over at us from their bar stools. We ordered drinks and went into the other room and grabbed a table. One beer led to another and Mule had the idea that he wanted to play the guitar. He went up to guys in the band and asked to play. They said no but I¢m not sure he understood them. As the night progressed Mules efforts switched from playing in the band to getting food. The bar kitchen was already closed but Mule was persistent. Finally the owner opened up the kitchen and made some wings. After the wings came out Mules efforts needed to switch somewhere else so he made sure that every one knew how good the wings were by repeating about a million times, "I¢m from Buffalo and I know chicken wings. And these are good wings."