Date: 2003-06-09
From: Pine Grove Furnace - Ironmasters Hostel

To: Alec Kennedy Shelter
Miles today: 15.5
Weather: scattered clouds

It rained a half inch more last night, but I had no idea. I was dead to the world, sleeping soundly on a cushy, hip-coddling mattress. Ahhhh! "A born-again sleep," Turnaround called it.The sun fought to emerge, and finally did about 7:30 am. Just Do It and Itchy Foot came into the hostel to use the phone and do their laundry. They sat around in only their rain gear, as everything else is in the wash. They were going to stay to partake in the "Half-Gallon Challenge," a thru-hiker tradition in which the intrepid sojourner attempts to down a half-gallon of ice cream at one sitting, in celebration of achieving the 1/2 way mark.Although I'd glanced into the Pine Grove camp store's bin, the flavors - Peanut Butter Twist and Banana Split with Cherries - caused me to sidestep the challenge. What can I say, I'm a lightweight. I can't even finish a pint of Ben & Jerry's.Yesterday, skinny Fido knocked off his half-gallon of PB in 30 minutes, "but I could go under ten," he said. "I wasn't even trying." For this feat, he won a wooden spoon that was stamped "Member of Half-Gallon Club." He was very proud of it.Prince William, SunPig and Dirty Bird conceded failure. Itchy Foot and Crow didn't even try. It's hard to leave this lovely old, historic brick hostel. It feels like home, since it plays host to my AT-L hiking list's annual January get-together, the PA Ruck. Sean is a good hostel host. But the sun is shining, there are miles to go... I actually put on sunblock today, optimist that I am.Itchy Foot and Turnaround set off about the same time, and we hike in the general vicinity all day, regrouping at lunch and breaks. We pass the "official" half-way marker, a fixed signpost, and we do the tourist thing and snap our pictures. Each year the Trail gets a little longer due to path relocations, so this post is pretty dated.We have a pleasant lunch high on some rocks, and admire the sun. The deer here in PA have more heft to them than the small, long-legged, goat-sized deer in the South. The PA rocks have a bit of heft to them as well.But after lunch, we cringe as a dark thundercloud spreads like a bruise across the sky. No! Not more rain! How much water can the sky hold? We expect that black cloud to pelt us at any minute, and in fact feel a few drops, but the weather gods take pity on us and pass on by. By late afternoon, the sun returns.We are passed by a friendly fellow named Buckeye, a marathon runner. He has no pack, only a water bottle. He is running the AT in prep for his tenth marathon. Hi wife Buckeye Babe meets him at road crossings with water and sandwiches, and at night they camp near the truck. Some folks take issue with this way of hiking the Trail, but it's fine with me. There are many notes in a symphony.The highlight of my day was a long rock scramble dubbed "The Maze." Trail designers had a bit of fun with these high boulders perched on a ridge. Sometimes we walked between narrow slits between boulders, sometimes we threw our sticks up and heaved our backpacked selves over the rocks. It's not terrain I would want to do all day, or in a hurry. But today I feel strong, and the silliness of the track makes me laugh out loud. Somewhere after that, just a tenth of a mile beyond the flowing and mellifluous Whiskey Spring, we pass the 1,100 mile mark. It seems as if I was just celebrating 1,000. I'm averaging about 100 miles a week these days.Our last challenge de jour is to cross the rushing Little Dogwood Run on a long, skinny, slippery log. Turnaround has one hiking staff, and halfway across she hesitates. I reach out and hand her my pole, and with four "legs" she walks on with ease. We all make it across.It's a full shelter, with Notes, Hoser, Crow, SunPig, Itchy Foot, CinC, and more. Many tent.The bugs are bad for the first time. Sitting at the picnic table is a chore, swatting at gnats and mosquitos. I cook and swat, enjoying the slant of the setting sun. Tomorrow is rumored to be nice also. Good thing, because we enter the no-camping zone of Boiling Springs, and must travel about 18 miles to the next shelter. Luckily, the profile looks flat.