Date: 2004-06-23
From: Carlisle, PA - US 11-Appalachian Moter Inn

To: Duncannon, PA - Doyle Hotel
Miles today: 17.3
Weather: scattered clouds

Breakfast at the Middlesex Diner, Ponderer told us not to eat at the motel. A bit later start then I like but still a decent start time. My concern is it's some milage and the rocks are increasing in numbers on the milage chart. We're headed to the dreaded Pennsylvania Rocks. I remember someone saying they start to show up near Duncannon. Water will be sparse, camel up and fill all available water containers. Amazing how heavy the pack feels. The first stretch is fair. TreeFrog wants to go by the Scott Farm Trail Center, which is the base camp for volunteers working on the trail in this area. It's a cute little set up. No one is home when we go by. As the day and milage passes, the trail becomes more and more a challenge. Fire Marshall and I walk ahead and chitchat. He doesn't need someone haranging him about choosing to get off the trail, so we talk about what his plans are for when he gets off. After awhile, it's hard to even have a conversation. We have to concentrate on where our feet are going. The rocks are loose and little ones are mixed with big one. Even the big one are loose. I'm glad the rain was last night. At least it's dry. I took a face plant on one pile. Banged my knee hard. I lay in the rocks and do a quick check, the toes move and the knee moves, nothing broken. Still, it hurts. I get up and FireMarshall is concerned. I tell him the biggest hurt is on my ego. We stopped at Cove Mountain Shelter for water and late lunch. It took us longer then we thought to get there. The rocks take energy and time. A tent is set up. I always worry abit when I see a tent set up so early. I wonder if we should check. We look, no one aound, so we head off. Four miles to town. We get about a mile down the trail when we run into a gentleman who informs us the tent is his. He set up the night before and headed into town for antique hunting. He's out for a few days. He tells us in a mile or so is a great vista. Off we go, the guy told us his name was Old Smokey, and held up a giant Meirschaum pipe. We talked about how trail names are such strange and wonderful alter egos for folks. We get to the vista, it looks down onto the town of Duncannon. It's a clear and sunny day, I asked the rhetorical question of "How come we never had days like this when we were in the Shenandoahs?" Some day hikers are there. They tell us it's only half an hour walk to town. FireMarshall and I get excited that we made such good milage. So we start down the trail, only to find, the civilian trail and the white blazes separate, we go uphill into the woods again. AT torture. So we clump through the woods and over more rocks. Sometimes I think Adam is right, each region is given a certain number of miles they have to use. The pointless up and downs and pointless rights and lefts. Finally, the end is near. How do we know? Trail magic in the form of an ice chest, full of juice. The angel also has left her phone number for any one who needs rides once we're in town. Very nice touch. FireMarshall realizes we're close enough that if he speeds up, he can get to the post office before they close, so off he goes. I walk into town by myself. I find it interesting that when approaching a town, I want to stop right outside and sit. Like I need to gather myself up for the culture shock. And Duncannon is no different. I stop on the bridge going into town. I look over the map of town, then go in. Duncannon is what I would call a tired lower middle class old industrial northeastern town. The buildings are crowded right onto the street. PeopleKs yards are tiny and neat. Flowers in pots on the stoops. The plan is to stay at the infamous Doyal Hotel. It was originally a big fancy hotel owned by Anheiser Busch. Today, it is a sad run down hiker hotel with a bar on the ground floor. A Hotel California in Pennsylvania. But it's cheap and has showers. Community bathrooms on each of the floors. The third and fourth floors have tiny rooms, no AC, windows with old rippling glass. At least the windows open. All singles are occuppied, so FireMarshall and I get a double. It's on the fourth floor and faces the Main street, which is toward the river and the railroad. We can hear the road and the trains. I jump in for a shower and sit out on the balcony watching out for TreeFrog and Adam. Ponderer is here as is the LittleBit gang. Apparently, they had yellow blazed to get MoonStone here in time to catch the bus to Washington DC, for her to go home. JoAnn, the Sampler, from my Georgia walking days is here also.She tells me Peter and Joe (also from my Georgia walking days) are homein Penn. They plan to be here tomorrow to take her on a tour of their home state. TreeFrog and Adam finally show up. They had a heck of a time with the rocks also. They get settled in in another of the doubles. Supper is at the bar. Alot of food for little money. I can't believe it, but I cannot finish the catfish dinner plate. Maybe it was the giant serving of french fries. But I had room for ice cream later. LittleBit and her troop are in the bar having a good ol' time. Different hiking styles become very apparent when we hikers get into town. I leave FireMarshall dancing with LittleBit and I am headed for bed. I finish tonight, listening to the train. I'm tired enough I don't think it will bother me.   Namaste'