Date: 2009-07-21
From: Duncannon, PA

To: PA 325 - Clarks Valley
Miles today: 15.9

After a very late night, I woke up early and still exhausted. I had prepared my slackpack belongings the evening before, so I was all set to go when Luke¢s dad Jeff came to pick me up at 7 am. Jeff is an attorney in Harrisburg and, as this is 10 minutes away from Duncannon, it was on his way. I scarfed down a bagel and off we went. Jeff and his wife Susanne had just returned from a trip to the Peruvian Amazon and I enjoyed hearing stories from the journey. I was dropped off at the far end of Duncannon and then walked across the Juniata and the Susquehanna. On the larger of the two rivers, the Susquehanna, cars were absolutely flying by. I knew that I was the first person crossing the bridge in the morning because I had to fight through cobwebs at nearly ever y step. By the time that I reached the other side ¢ roughly 12 mile ¢ I was completely covered with cobwebs. It was a laborious task to peal away each particle of spider webbing from my face, torso, and legs, but it had to be done. I ascended Peters Mountain and was rewarded with beautiful views of the town of Duncannon and the Susquehanna River carving its way through the mountainside. I continued listening to The Kite Runner and was totally pulled in by its gripping tale. When I arrived at Peters Mountain Shelter, I started to recalculate my math for the slackpack day and realized that it was not a 23-mile day as I had originally intended, but a 33-mile day! On top of that, there were no road crossings after PA 325, so I had to get in touch with Luke to figure out the plan. I initially told him that I would try to do the entire 33 miles, but that I would be arriving very late. The next section was very tough on my feet, as the rocks in Pennsylvania were slowly starting to make a name for themselves. I was nearing the end of my audiobook and, at one point when Ali John decides to adopt Hassan¢s son, I just broke down on the trail and started crying. It was a very moving tale. Thru-hikers are not supposed to listen to audiobooks while trekking through Pennsylvania because of the rattlesnakes, but I just kept plodding along. Over one rock face, however, I nearly stepped on one rattler that frantically slithered underneath a rock, as I didn¢t hear the rattle until I was nearly stepping on it. Close call. By the time I had arrived at PA 325, it was roughly 4:00 PM and I knew that there would be no way to finish the 33-mile slackpack day. I was hitting rough terrain with the rocks, but it was a guarantee that I would be night-hiking and, as I didn¢t have my headlamp, this was not an option. The problem was that I was stuck in a valley in-between two steep ridges and there was no cell phone service and I had to get in touch with Luke. I debated climbing up the ridge again to call, but decided to try to hitchhike in order to get closer to I-81, where I thought we would eventually meet. I hitched for about 30 minutes until a guy swung back around and offered to take me to a town called Wiconisco, which would be closer to I-81. Not knowing my location at all, I decided to go. Wiconisco is in the coal-mining region, close to the larger sister town of Lykens. When I called Luke to tell him, I was about 50 minutes away from Hershey ¢ a very long distance. I apologized profusely for botching the entire slackpack and he just kept saying, ¢Don¢t worry about it. I¢m glad I can help.¢ It was very reassuring. The guy who gave me a lift was named Rick and was living with his girlfriend and her five children. His girlfriend didn¢t work and he was getting under-the-table money from doing painting jobs in Harrisburg. It was clearly obvious that the supposed girlfriend was taking advantage of his goodwill, but I don¢t think that he caught on to it. They offered me a Yuengling beer, which I reluctantly took after a few tough climbs and excessive sweating, and some pork meat on white bread. Out of respect to them, I ate a little bit of it. Luke and his younger brother, Mike, came a short while later. I was expecting them to say, ¢Hutch, how the hell did you end up in a small coal-mining town of Wiconisco¢. My response would have been, ¢I have no friggin¢ idea how I did it, but I did it.¢ They then proceeded to drive me 20 minutes back to the trailhead with all of my belongings. We posed for a few pictures and then they drove the 70 minutes back home to Hershey. It was big time trail magic and I thank Luke for taking the time to help me out. I had every intention to hike up the ridge ¢ a climb of roughly 1,000 feet ¢ but I saw a small campsite off to the side on an island, separated by a small river flowing through. I would need water in the morning, so I headed off to the campsite. Believe it or not, after over three months of hiking, this would be my very first time camping alone. I was going to ¢cowboy¢ camp (not setting up your tent), but decided against it as the clouds up above looked rather ominous. I proceeded to cook some food, made a warm fire, and then crawled into my sleeping bag to sleep.