Date: 2011-06-11
From: 501 Shelter

To: 5.6 miles after the 501 Shelter
Miles today: 5.6
Weather: moderate rain

(In which I am joined for the weekend by Thomas, Iris, Michael and Erik)After the Partnership Shelter, the 501 Shelter is possibly the second most talked about on the trail. Like Partnership, the 501 has pizza delivery and a shower, and unlike Partnership the 501 even has four walls and a skylight. We are glad for the four walls at night, when the storm forecasted for the night before finally arrives, lightning and thunder accompanied by the persistent drum of rain.In the morning it has stopped raining, but everybody hangs around the shelter, not eager to leave the cozy accommodations for a day of hiking through the forest still wet from the night's rain. Shakey, Twigg and Bean each head out around noon, leaving only Rain Dance, who plans to zero, and me. I meet section hikers Mapless and Stopsign when they arrive from the previous shelter. I learn that Rauche Gap shelter, where I nearly stayed instead of going in to Lickdale, had a flea infestation like the one I encountered at the Johns Hollow Shelter, and I am glad to have splurged for the hotel room instead of enduring another sleepless night of itching.Just after lunch my friends from Pittsburgh show up, Thomas, Iris, Michael and Erik. They drove 4+ hours across Pennsylvania to come hike the AT with me for a few days, and I am excited to have my first visitors. We plan to cover 24 miles in three days, which should be a gentle introductory pace and keep me solidly on the slow train at the same time. We're not sure whether to spend the night at the 501 in case it rains again, necessitating a 15 mile day to the shelter tomorrow, or hike 5 miles out to a campsite tonight, setting up two 10 mile or so days. We take a vote and decide choose the camping option so that we can start hiking right away.It's a strange and fun change to be surrounded by my old friends and to hear news from Pittsburgh and those who have moved away. Our conversation finds its way to more technical and more macabre topics that I'm used to on the trail, and I am fondly reminded of my friends' eccentricity. "When I die, I want my body to be torn apart and consumed by birds," Michael says when the conversation drifts from Seattle to favorite cities to Vancouver to Vancouver's Zoroastrian population and their ancient burial traditions. "I just like the image of birds fighting over the various pieces of my body and of one of them carrying my penis high into the air." He says this wistfully, as if contemplating the tragedy that he will never witness the desecration and consumption of his own corpse.I am amused when the guys, even when Iris isn't present, walk far out of sight into the woods to pee. Thru-hikers, who drink liters of water a day and have the entire forest as a urinal, tend to have bladders the size of walnuts, and consider walking a few feet off the trail and turning their backs to be an appropriate level of modesty.I tease them about their extra, heavy gear (Michael brought the winter insulation for his water bottle, though the risk of it freezing seems low) and they quickly realize that thru-hikers refer to weekend hikers in much the same way that grad students refer to undergrads, foolish, inexperienced and temporary inferiors whose earnest naivete is a frequent source of amusement.We take several breaks to stretch the five miles out over as much of the afternoon as possible, and end up arriving at the planned tent site just as it is starting to rain. We hastily set up our tents -- their much heavier but better protecting two walled tents and my single-walled tarp tent -- and then eat dinner in the drizzle. I show them how to hang a bear bag, and it's fun to reexperience the newness of hiking through their eyes (yes, even unopened packaged food should be hung away from bears and mice I explain when they ask, skeptical). After dinner is eaten, the dishes are cleaned and the food hung we retreat to our tents to get out of the rain and prepare for another exciting day of hiking tomorrow.