Date: 2011-06-22
From: The Church of the Mountain Hostel, Delaware Water Gap, Day 2

To: Backpacker Campsite, 5.7 miles before the Mohican Outdoor Center
Miles today: 4.8
Weather: overcast clouds

(In which I manage to leave Delaware Water Gap and enter New Jersey)In the morning I see Checker, who took a couple of mental health days in Wind Gap. He seems to be doing well again, and he spends the early morning tidying up the hostel. The hostel was fairly messy when I arrived two days ago and has only gotten worse since, so I help him throw out old Gatorade bottles and stack books and CDs back on their shelves. "Always leave the campsite cleaner than when you found it," Checker says, and it's the least we can do in exchange for the accommodations.I eat breakfast at the bakery with Denim. It's the third day in a row I've hung out with him, which is unusual for hikers traveling in opposite directions. He's taking a bus to go visit New York City today, and I give him recommendations of where to hang out (Central Park and the Met, practical if not exactly original suggestions). "I never thought of myself as a city person, always an outdoorsy one, but after a week of hiking, I can't wait to take a break from hiking and go to New York," he says. "Hiking has had its moments, but it's nothing compared to the brief time I got to spend in New York City right before I started hiking." I wonder how his experience would have differed if he had hiked his section northbound, and been able to hang out with more hikers, but I'm glad that he's found a new enthusiasm for New York on the trail, if nothing else.Having not resupplied yet, I have to take the shuttle in to Strousburg one more time. The driver is surprised to see me for a third day in a row, but I tell him only to worry if he sees me again tomorrow. At Walmart I buy food and a single trekking pole. The pole costs a mere $14, but only makes it as far as the parking lot when I unbox it and realize that the locking mechanism keeps the segments extended only so long as you never put any weight on the poles, at which time all bets are off. I attempt to fix it with the flat head screwdriver on my Swiss Army knife, and then with a Philips head screwdriver from the store, but when that doesn't work I return the pole for a refund.The trekking pole incident means that I miss the morning bus back to Delaware Water Gap, and I am startled to realize that the next bus isn't for more than three hours. With little to lose I try hitching, but this far from the trail and in a northern state I don't expect to have much luck. 25 minutes and hundreds cars confirm my suspicions, and just when I'm about to give up and find a spot in the shade to read until the bus comes, a pickup truck stops and waves me into the front seat. The driver's name is Curtis, and he drives out of his way to drop me off right where I'm trying to go. The south may be friendlier when it comes to hitchhiking (and most other things), but there are generous people everywhere, and I'm always thankful when I meet them.Having learned my lesson about cheap Walmart equipment, I stop by the outfitter in Delaware Water Gap to buy some real poles. The lightest are the Leki women's poles, shorter than the men's poles but still plenty tall enough for use in my tent. In true marketing fashion they are also colored white and covered with painted flowers (as opposed to the black, red or metallic men's poles), but at least this way I'm unlikely to get my poles confused with anybody elses.At the hotel I find that my old sticks, which I had left out with a sign offering them free to a good home, are already gone. I'm told that Denim was the taker, having left his Walmart brand poles in their place. I'm glad that my rhododendron stick and German Shepherd's old stick will be carried on, and feel confident that Denim will find them to be a considerable improvement over the Walmart poles.I also get to meet Kerry, Tom's wife who has just arrived to hike the rest of the trail with him. Having gotten married late last year, they have spent the majority of their married life apart while Tom has been on the trail. Kerry has just spent nearly all of the past 36 hours on a bus so they plan to zero today and then start hiking slow days tomorrow, so while I will briefly be ahead of them, I will likely have more opportunities to see them up ahead on the trail.Tom convinces me to visit the bakery one last time with them for lunch, and I order the same cinnamon roll and grilled cheese that I had for breakfast, having enjoyed it so much then. After splitting a reasonably sized shepherd's pie, Tom and Kerry buy a full sized carrot cake pie with cream cheese icing, Tom having persuaded Kerry that gluttony is a useful skill for hiking. Tom drops a forkful of the pie on the floor, then picks it up and pops it in his mouth. "Hikers," I say to Kerry, shaking my head in mock disgust. "Nah, he's always like that," she says, and pokes him playfully in the belly.* * *I check my email before I start hiking and am sad to learn that Buffalo has gotten back off the trail, his ankle still not yet fully recovered. He plans to take at least another two or three weeks off to let it heal more fully, and though I'm disappointed that I won't get to hike with him for most of the rest of the trip, I know that he's making the wise move, and hope that he can find as much fun off the trail as he was able to on it.Just as I am about the leave the hostel for the final time, the clouds, having loomed threateningly all day, open up for a sudden and torrential downpour. Swift, Chumpa and the other hikers in the hostel laugh at my timing, and I sit in the dry hostel with them and watch the rain pour down and form rivers down the streets. It is a classic case of the Town Vortex -- unexpected delays making me stay for lunch, then staying for lunch putting me up against bad weather. Having learned that the hostel's two-night-stay limit is not actively enforced, I strongly consider a third night. But the rain stops just after 5pm and I make a break for it, glad that I don't have to risk overstaying my welcome at the hostel.The sun comes out, and other than the wet grass, it is a nice day. Until the bugs start swarming, having seemingly been waiting just over the border into New Jersey. They're as obnoxious as all but the swampiest portions of the previous trail, and I hope that the AT, prankster that it often is, has not just traded PA rocks for Jersey bugs. I stop at the first campsite to set up my tent and be free from the bugs, and am glad that I can pitch the tent correctly again now that I have adjustable poles. Though I camped by myself just a few days ago, the thought of Buffalo off the trail and Mehap ahead make my spot seem more solitary than the earlier night. But the slow train has taught me that there are always new and old friends just around the corner, so I decide to try to enjoy the solitude while I have it.