Date: 2004-06-04
From: So Far, So Good ... So What?

To: Scorched Earth
Miles today: 16.0

I had a nice (read: uneventful) night at the Bake Oven Shelter. In fact, I really would like to go on a bit about how good it was for me to sleep in a dry place with no outside sounds or fear of rain, but that would be boring. I¢ll just summarize by saying I was a little reluctant to leave this refuge, especially since I knew one of my greatest challenges lay ahead: The Lehigh Gap.         I knew the Gap would be a torturous climb. I¢d have to go up 1,000 feet in under a mile, over jagged rocks and slag left behind from the old zinc smelting operation, through sunbaked stones riddled with rattlesnakes. After that, I¢d have to cross miles of land so polluted the EPA has designated it as a Superfund site. Apparently, the Gap was used as a big cinder pile for the local zinc smelting operation from 1898 until the EPA closed it down in the early 80¢s. By that time, it had sent literally millions of tons of zinc, lead and other toxic metals into the local environment, killing practically everything but the people - and a few of them too.         I grit my teeth. This was going to be the hardest part of the trip. I had nothing to do but keep walking towards it. Loner by Choice        The old man at the Eckville Shelter, Willy, caught up with me that morning. We talked a bit; he told me how he was walking from Harper¢s Ferry to Connecticut, where his daughter was waiting for him. Personality-wise, he was definitely an amiable character; he even kept his head when we both got thrown off the trail by some false blazes.         There was only one problem - well, actually two, but they complement each other to form one. You see, Willy had two aluminum trekking poles and he walked a little faster than me. He also had his old, wet hiking socks dangling outside of his backpack. If he were behind me or if he hadn¢t had the socks out, I¢d have been fine. With both, though, I found myself perpetually downwind and not more than a yard from his sweat-and-rain-drenched-bacteria-breeding socks. I tried walking alongside him, but the trail got too narrow too often, and I knew if I kept cutting in front of him I¢d get annoying after a while. I ultimately excused myself by taking a long break and wishing him luck.         At this point, I¢ve come to realize that I¢ve met no one on the trail I could travel with, yet at the same time I knew no one off the trail who would be willing to take such a journey. As I¢ve often told myself on dateless nights, it¢s better to be happy alone than miserable with someone. Remember Sugar Daddy and Haiku? I had given up on ever seeing the ultrahikers I met on Day One ever again, although I was keeping tabs on them. Sugar Daddy, Moon Pie and Haiku had been leaving notes in the shelter registers. They had passed through all of the shelters I went through except for Port Clinton. I was able to keep up on how Moon Pie almost step on a skunk, read Haiku¢s lament about the metal testing results from the spring near the Outerbridge Shelter (¢Heavy metal drink - All this fouled P-A water - Hope I don¢t get sick) and see Sugar Daddy¢s notes about an upcoming barbecue in New York. Apparently, they met up with Stealth a few days before, and he also noted in his register entry they always talked about poop.         All the same, I had given up on ever seeing those guys again until I went down the hill towards the steep slope of the Lehigh Gap. While crossing the Lehigh River, though, I saw a distinct character just ahead. By distinct, I he was wearing a yellow kilt.        Sure enough, it was Haiku. A little further up was Sugar Daddy. They had stopped the night in Palmerton, a town a few miles from the Lehigh Gap famous for letting hikers sleep in its old jail building. Sugar Daddy had picked up a mail drop from his mother; she sent him a vitamin store¢s worth of red-and-yellow pills as well as an extra sleeping bag, both of which were more than he wanted. Haiku, though, had to reach Delaware Water Gap before noon on Saturday to get his maildrop, which meant the two of them had to go 36 miles over treacherous terrain in under 24 hours.         I let them go up the gap first. I never saw those guys again and I¢ll be surprised if I ever do.* Scorched EarthI¢ve heard it said the trail goes practically straight up at the Gap. Actually, that¢s an understatement: there are a few points where it reaches back over hanging rocks. Good thing I knew a few things about rock climbing. I hurled my hiking sticks up the stony path like spears, threw myself flat against the face in parts, and proceeded to swing from one pinch grip to the next handhold while digging my feet into any crevasse that didn¢t shift. Somehow I managed to maintain footholds with my thick boots and pull myself up despite the pounds on my back.         Turned out, that was the easy part. Once I cleared the rockface, the trail turned sharply. All I could see was a steep slope of jagged slag rocks dotted by an erratic path of white blazes. I would have no cover, no shade, and no room to make a false step for the next thousand yards. The next few miles after that ... well, the footing was easy, but it was definitely the most desolate part of the trail.         I realize the EPA put a lot of work into their reforesting efforts, but I have to say it seems to have been in vain. The trees grow for a few years - just long enough to become trees instead of saplings - then they die from shallow roots, zinc, dehydration, or all of the above. Each leaves behind a pale remnant of itself, its branches twisted into a rictus of despair. Walking through the site, you see a forest of these skeletons with the occasional green tree preparing to join them.                Since there are so few trees here, the ridgerunners came up with a creative solution: They marked the trail with pyramids made from stones. Each side of the pile has a white blaze.         As I walked through this toxic, scorched patch of earth, I couldn¢t help becoming more of an environmentalist. was the product of eighty years of pollution, a swath of scarred ground still incapable of supporting life twenty years later. This was what the people fighting against stronger environmental controls were supporting. Nature may ultimately win, reclaiming this piece of land as it reclaimed the site of Yellow Springs village, but it will be a costly battle.         The trail lead back into more habitable surroundings after a few miles. I managed to reach the misnamed Little Gap before the sun set. I passed several small camp spots and comfortable spots under pine trees to walk for two hours in the dark before making camp.* Their online trail journals are also on this site. They don¢t mention me, though, but then they¢re nowhere near as pedantic or verbose as I am.