Date: 2015-06-16
From: Campsite south of Round Head

To: Port Clinton
Miles today: 21.0
Weather: scattered clouds

I wanted to get out early so we could get to town (Port Clinton) before the post office closed to pick up my mail drop. Also i wanted to be able to enjoy my in-town leisure time (in other words, get chores done ASAP). So we got up at 5 and hit the trail in record time. We were hiking before 6:15. Kind of amazing.Our plans for town weren't solid. Chris had been trying to sway me to stay at the Microtel. I was not willing to pay that much money. The trail runs through Port Clinton and less than two miles from Hamburg. Neither of these two towns have a hostel, or even a cheap hotel/motel. Port Clinton has a hiker pavilion, but we wanted showers and clean laundry. We desperately NEEDED both of these things. The last few days, Chris had kept saying, "I smell TERRIBLE." Every time, I just cheerily reply, "Yes, you do!" The harsh reality of the trail: you have to suck it up and get used to being disgustingly, miserably dirty. It's worth it. Still, showering whenever possible is a must.I dug a hole last night to use this morning, but when the time came, I didn't have to go. I cursed my inconveniently digesting bowels. Of course, when we stopped at the first water source an hour into our hike to refill our bottles, I DID have to go. OF COURSE. WONDERFUL TIMING, BODY. I jogged off into the woods to dig another hole, sad I had wasted the effort digging one last night. It had been an excellent hole, too, and in a good location. It was probably the best I have dug so far, and I didn't even get to enjoy the pleasure of filling it.Right after we got water (and I pooped), we met Magnus and Coco, just finishing packing up. Magnus was holding their toothbrushes at the ready. We discussed our plans to head into town and the lack of lodging options. They offered to split a room at the Microtel with us, which would have knocked the price down from over $40 each to about $25. I was sold. We exchanged phone numbers and hiked on.They passed us later when we stopped to drink and snack, and shortly afterwards we passed them while they were talking to Woodchuck and his brother (I think?) about bears. I can't be that enthusiastic about bear stories anymore... I know that it is really exciting to see them, but at this point I feel like everyone has seen bears. The stories are all the same. Of course I should shut up, because I shared my own bear stories on here...Anyway I faked interest (I couldn't not, they were so into telling the story) and we continued on.We also passed the Aussie Legs in the late morning, sitting on a log and snacking and resting. They told us that there was a dam right past the place where we had gotten our first water of the morning, and showed us a picture. I was so disappointed that I had missed it. It looked so pretty! I love dams.Today was a long day... I thought a lot about pizza and laundry as I hiked. I also thought about my mental and emotional progress on the trail. Conclusions:1. I still miss Jim, but think about him much less frequently.2. I still have no idea what to do with my life.3. I just want to adventure forever.I do love the thinking time hiking provides, even if it doesn't necessarily help me reach any life-changing epiphanies.My trail runners have been suffering a slow death. I thought that they might be able to make it another hundred miles. They did not survive the 21 miles we hiked today, though. The last couple of days, the toe rubber had been pulling apart from the fabric part of the shoe. The rocky trail aggravated this problem... rocks mean tripping and stubbing and just general rough treatment of the toes.I was planning on trying to let my shoes dry out as much as possible while in town, and then I could try to super glue and stitch them together.But the miles today trashed my poor runners. I cursed Red Panda of yesterday for not trying to stitch them up before they disintegrated more. The sole of my right shoe just kept coming apart a little more... and a little more... and a little more...By the time we were three miles from Port Clinton, half of the sole was no longer attached. I was limping down the trail to reduce damaging them further. It kind of wasn't working... and we were just about to head into what Chris called, when looking at the elevation profile at lunchtime, "The descent into Hell." It was a steep, steep downhill. Very steep. Extremely steep. Near the bottom, DANGEROUSLY steep.Needless to say, I descended VERY slowly, so that my sole wouldn't get caught back under my heel, trip me, and send me careening down into Port Clinton head-over-heels, a bloody tumbling mess of dirty hiker, spandex, and Gertrude.As I was hiking down, a man ran past me. Up the hill. The dangerously steep, rocky hill. RUNNING."I can't believe you're running!" I said as he blew past me. I can't imagine walking up that hill, let alone running up it. Going down was bad enough."Well, you're hiking!" He replied, as if this were comparable. I don't think it is.At the bottom of the hill, I caught up to Chris, who was examining a cooler. He told me to hold out my hands, and poured strawberries into them. Trail magic WATERMELON, APPLES, and CHERRIES were also inside that amazing, lovely, panda-saving cooler. I love fruit. I probably ate about a quarter of a watermelon... We kind of cleaned out that whole cooler... After a long hike, it really was magical. I think Chris, in particular, needed it. I could tell he was getting tired and frustrated with tripping over rocks. Calories always help you feel better!The runner stopped on his way back down the hellish descent and we chatted. He admired our hike and we admired his crazy endurance running ability.I showed Chris my sad trail runners. "It's a good thing we're going to Cabela's tomorrow." he said. Did I mention that Hamburg is home to the largest Cabela's store IN THE WORLD?! We basically planned a nero around this from the moment we learned about it. Who doesn't want to spend half a day wandering Cabela's? Even if I can't afford to buy or carry anything, it's just so fun to LOOK!Then I swapped out my ruined sneakers for my camp shoes (Chris also keeps telling me that I need new camp shoes, but these ones WILL last to Katahdin. I refuse to buy another pair. I am so sick of buying shoes.), and we headed down the last bit of hill into town.We arrived in Port Clinton around 3:30, I picked up my box, and we chatted with the Aussie Legs and Clank outside of the barber shop (which had cake and cookies and a bunch of hikers hanging around watching some guy get his hair cut... oh, the AT, always so weird...).We heard that the Microtel had been full last night, so Chris called to check their availability. Nothing. No rooms empty for four rancid hikers. I texted Magus and Coco, who were still on their way into town, the bad news.But Chris still had a card to play. He had been texting Funk the last few days, and knew that he was staying at the Microtel tonight after taking a zero due to wet-weather blisters. So he let Funk know about our predicament. And Funk invited us to stay with him and another hiker named Chet.Funk is an awesome guy. Chris told me a few days ago that Funk was about a day and a half ahead of us. I was disappointed, figuring we would never catch him. But here we are! That's just the way it works.Lisa, an awesome girl on her way to work at Red Robin, pulled over as we were walking into Hamburg. She popped open her trunk and cleared out space in her back seat for us to squeeze in. She kindly gave us a ride to the Microtel, telling us that giving hikers rides is a usual thing for her to do in summer. She even gave us energy drinks to enjoy before getting back on the trail (the way out starts with a steep climb). I gave her the URL of my journal before thanking her for the sixth time and waving goodbye. If you ever read this, Lisa, thank you so much again!At the Microtel, we happily reunited with Funk and met Chet, who spent the night debating whether or not to invest in a JetBoil (he decided it wasn't worth the extra pack weight). Trail stories were shared. Memories of Tall Gaiters were revisited. Showers were taken. Laundry was washed. My mail drop was sorted, and the last of my senbei, rice snacks Candace brought me from Japan, devoured (I miss you, twin!). Funk admired my organizational skills in dehydrating and mailing my food, and told me I should consider selling my foodstuffs to hikers. Sounds like it could be fun... but also could be a LOT of work and possibly a nightmare.While Chris was in the shower, my mind was on pizza. I went into research mode. I discovered Pizza Hut's promotion of two medium pizzas for $6.99 each (such a bargain!). Usually Chris and I split a veggie pizza. Tonight, we ordered two pizzas. That meant I got my OWN pizza. A WHOLE PIZZA TO MYSELF. I got barbeque chicken with EXTRA peppers and EXTRA onions and it was amazingly deliciously heavenly. Plus, protein!The best part?! The pizza fairy sent $20 in my mail drop. I can pay for pizza tonight and still have money for ice cream tomorrow. Or Gatorade. Or something to aid my sweaty chafing situation. I won't go into more detail about that one... just know that hit weather = sweat = chafing. After I showered tonight, I looked in the mirror and realized just how much of a beating my body is taking. My shoulders and back are red and a little raw from Gertrude's straps. My feet are messy as always. I hardly notice any of it while on the trail, though (except the chafing, I always feel the chafing). My butt may be raw, but still, my spirit thrives!I fit perfectly on the window seat (more comfortable than a hard shelter floor!) in Funk's hotel room. I also just realized that there may be continental breakfast tomorrow. Life on the trail just never disappoints.I am thankful for Lisa and Funk! I am not thankful that Chris is snoring... but am thankful to have a place to sleep. Also, I am thankful that my shoes fell apart going into town (like poor Bertha, may she rest in peace), so that I can maybe have a chance at replacing them.Thanks again to the pizza fairy for filling my bulky tummy. I have told the story of dad calling me bulky and it has become a running joke. I left the room to call mom, and Funk said, "Tell your family you're getting skinnier!""Right!" I laughed, "After I just ate a pizza!"