Date: 2013-07-11
From: Stealth camp near Fort Dietrich Snyder Monument

To: Port Clinton Hotel, Port Clinton, PA
Miles today: 15.1

There was thunder and lightning last night. Enough me out of my tent to pull in my clothes, but if it did rain, it was only a few drops. I woke up to a nice dry tent. The hike started off okay. There were a few issue, but the main issue was my stomach. It felt a little queasy and it gurgled a lot. I had to take several emergency bush visits. Unfortunately, I was low on toilet paper when I set off a few days ago, and now I was totally out. Well, poo. I was concerned that I might have picked up something from another hiker. I know there was a sick hiker back in Duncannon, and I got his room right after him. It just takes a few germs. But fortunately, my stomach calmed down, and I managed not to soil my pants. The morning passed quickly. I stopped and organized some beautifully colored leaves (fall colored leaves, is it really getting close to that time?) to read: 1200. Yep. I've crossed the 1200 mark. Woohoo!I passed several forest roads and over several creeks and springs that weren't listed in my guidebook. It made me wonder if the author had actually been there, or if he/she used a map. Strange.The trail turned back into a nasty, rocky wasteland. I found it infuriating. Especially given that it the trail builders just took us over the rockiest and worst possible places. the flies were horrible. I got at least 9 in my eyes and 6 up my nose. Tomorrow I WILL have a fly net for my head. I WILL.I stopped at the only flat area I could find to have lunch. There was a large evergreen tree and soft pine straw underneath. I dropped my pack and sat down to start unloading my food. Suddenly I noticed that the ground was covered in thousands and thousands of cicada shells. They were stuck to me, to my clothes, to my stuff. I don't think I've been that grossed out in a while. I tried in vain to keep myself contained on a tiny 12"X12" ziplock, but it didn't work. I was so put off that I could hardly eat my lunch. I was really starting to hate Pennsylvania. The afternoon was more rocks and more gnats and more mosquitoes. My sense of humor was completely gone. My feet and ankles were killing me. I just wanted the day to be over. But just to keep it interesting, there was a brutal downhill into Port Clinton. It reminded me of a slide you might find at a water park; the kind that you have to cross your arms across your body. wow. There was a noticable lack of creativity from whomever designed the descent into town. I cursed under my breath (or perhaps out loud) all the way down. It was a noticably 10-15 degrees hotter down in town. I had to ask a local guy which way to go since there were few (read: no) white blazes directing me into town. I stopped at the post office to pick up my mail drops. The barber across the street waved me over for coffee and cookies. I thanked him, but I wanted to check out the Port Clinton Hotel. As soon as I got there, a lady sitting on the bench outside offered up some 'fisherman fries', or poutine. But not just one or two, she gave me her entire to-go order. I took it. And I took a room. The room was tiny, but the bed was comfy and the window unit worked well. I called Cabela's, a HUGE outdoor superstore filled with taxidermy- I realize I need to hang my bear bag, much, much higher. They sent a shuttle van to fetch me. I found my coveted head net-score!- and some more Deet. I walked the half mile across the parking lot and walked another mile around the Walmart to resupply. Yes, I went to Walmart, breaking almost a 10 boycott. I then walked the two miles back to Port Clinton. I inhaled the rest of the poutine, and wrote some cards. I washed my swollen feet and hung my wet (albeit clean) clothes from my window blinds (the laundry closed earlier than I had expected, so I could get my clothes washed but not dried). Now if I could just get my trail journal updated. Too bad the connection is so bad. I guess I'll sleep.