Date: 2004-07-23
From: Blackburn Trail Center

To: Harpers Ferry, West Virginia
Miles today: 12.0
Weather: haze

ESD: 5Calories: Aw forget itWeather: Hot and sunnyMy last day on the trail. My LAST day on the trail. I can hardly believe it. My last day ON the trail.The host of the Blackburn Trail Center offered to feed us breakfast and slack us to Harpers Ferry in exchange for a couple hours work. With my feet as tender as they were, I couldn¢t refuse the opportunity to walk with only the day¢s essentials on my back and retrieve my relatively heavy pack at the Appalachian Trail Conference (ATC) headquarters.Six out of the eight of us pulled weeds from the enormous ivy patch of the Blackburn Trail Center. As I bent over to yank weeds from the ground, I thought I might throw my back out again and require a ride to Harpers Ferry, spending my last day of ¢hiking¢ in a Subaru. My back survived. Instead, I itch, and may have my very first case of poison ivy ever.The walk into Harpers Ferry was a relatively easy one. The terrain was relatively flat (again with the ¢relatively¢ stuff), and without a pack, the miles flew by quickly.To enter Harpers Ferry from the south, you cross the Shenandoah River. I don¢t know what ¢Shenandoah¢ means, but the Shenandoah Mountains and Valley and my first glimpse of the Shenandoah River inspired thoughts like ¢gentle¢ and ¢serene¢. The river was broad and shallow with small, barren rock islands bordered in frothy, watery lace. The AT crosses above the Shenandoah via a walkway along U.S. 340. The road is busy and loud, but I looked over my right shoulder as I walked, focusing on my sight and on the river. A tall slender heron stood on the near bank far below me. And as it took flight, I thought, ¢This is my moment. This is my heron and my farewell.¢ And as the words skimmed over the cortex of my brain, the driver of an obscenely large, obnoxiously shiny blue pickup pelted me with something thrown through the passenger window. Asshole. My ¢moment¢ consisted of a river, a heron, and an asshole. Across the river and up a hill, I veered off the AT onto the blue blazed trail to the ATC headquarters. I thought nothing of it, which I can hardly believe now. I stepped off the Trail for what likely will be months, if not years, and I thought nothing of it. I didn¢t pause. I didn¢t shed a tear. In fact, until now, I hardly even made note of it.I strolled through Harpers Ferry, past Stoney (?) College, opened in 1867 and the first college to accept people of all races. However, the school was primarily and possibly entirely attended by blacks throughout its history. The school closed in the 50¢s (I think), but what a concept. How extraordinary. In 1867!I arrived at the ATC headquarters where I was promptly asked if I was a thru-hiker. ¢In my heart I am,¢ I thought, and so answered, ¢Yes.¢ I later confessed and the number above my photo was changed from thru-hiker red to section hiker blue. Or perhaps it was thru-hiker blue and section hiker red. My fellow slack-packers trickled in as I waited for my sister Jeane to arrive. She did, right on time, with my niece MacLynn who, without reservation, declared that I ¢stink¢. We snapped ¢finish line¢ photos in front of the ATC headquarters, and after a quick shower at the Hilltop Hotel (thanks to the Pass brothers), we set out for Ohio.