Date: 2003-07-25
From: Duncannon, Pa

To: Port Clinton, Pa
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: few clouds

In this journal I try to focus on the more positive aspects of the AT experience, and don't dwell too much on the many negatives which are just part of the daily life of a thru hiker. Well, that may be about to change. Welcome to Pennsylvania. "Pennsylvania Sucks" is the most commonly held view in the hiking community. Maybe that view is over-stated. I can't decide. The four of us left Duncannon on Sunday - "Thistle" and "Two Speeds" had rejoined us the day before, courtesy of a ride from a Trail Angel in Boiling Springs - crossed the Susquehanna River in broiling heat, and were glad of the woodland shade as we immediately climbed up into Peter's Mountain. From here there are four "mountains", Peter's, Stony, Blue and Kittatiny. Really they are long ridge lines, in parallel with each other and running south-west to north-east. For many days we have been climbing up a mountain, walking the ridge for two days or more, descending into a gap and then climbing up to the next ridge. The elevation profile has therefore been quite benign. The real challenge of Pennsylvania is its terrain. The rocks. They kill feet, boots, and people's spirits. Drop-outs from the AT seem to have been higher since Harper's Ferry and are definitely higher since we came into Pennsylvania. Plenty of sections of Trail have been perfectly fine and we have made good time. These have alternated with other sections that are very stony and, although you can still move fast, the constant stepping over and round that stuff does hurt your feet and your boots. In these places, you never quite put your foot down cleanly on a flat, level surface, the rocks all seem to have sharp edges or points jutting up at every angle, so there is always a strain on ankles and knees.   And then, punctuated regularly through all of this, there are the boulder fields. Referred to tongue-in-cheek by Pennsylvanians as "rock gardens", these areas force you to step or leap from boulder to boulder, and slow you down to a snail's pace. You have to improvise a lot in the boulder fields for usually the "path" isn't obvious. The sheer concentration involved in taking each step is exhausting by itself, and you can go for half-an-hour without looking up. Snakes are another reason we keep our eyes firmly down. Rock fields are their territory, and scarcely a day goes by now without one of our group seeing a rattle-snake or a copperhead. Since you don't look up, you miss things - views, blaze marks, switches in the trail, and in "Chafe Master's" case on Monday, the prescence of a bear right on the AT. He looked up when he was twenty feet away, let forth a very startled "F***!", and the equally startled bear belted off into the woods. If hikers haven't been discouraged by the rocks, then there is the weather. This week has been very stormy. Sometimes they come overnight, but usually the thunder starts to roll about mid-afternoon followed by a torrential rain shower or two during the next two hours. We have been caught in the open by these every time, and always arrive at the next shelter completely soaked. The climax came on Tuesday afternoon when we walked through an apparent monsoon, (it turned out to be two inches of rain), the trail path immediately filled with rushing water, and "drowned rat" doesn't begin to describe my state when I reached the shelter at Blue Mountain Spring, (William, Pa). It inspired "Chafe" to reach for his camera as I came wading in. Finally there are the insects. Most infuriating are the flies that dive-bomb your ears, and the other small flies that hover back and forth in front of your face and try to land on your eye-lashes. These have now been joined by squadrons of mosquitos and a few other nasties I couldn't name. On hot, humid days, as soon as you work up a sweat, the bug attack is relentless. I get bitten but generally don't react too much. "Thistle" is having a miserable time, and has, at the last count, 54 nasty bites on her lower back that are driving her crazy. Chiggers. They burrow under the skin, and usually die there. It takes two weeks or so to clear. She is pretty low. By Wednesday, we had had enough of this and, when we hit PA501, hitched into the small town of Pine Grove to re-supply, clean ourselves up and dry out. From the sanctuary of our motel room we watched another remarkable cascade of rain come down late that afternoon. Next day, the Pottsville Republican & Evening Herald described how the storms were hitting almost everywhere east of the Mississippi. Here, in Schuylkill and other neighbouring counties, about 200,000 people lost power and light because of blow downs. Iron bridges abound in Pennsylvania, and to the west of us, near Pittsburgh, one of its most famous, the Kinzua Viaduct, collapsed on Monday. It stretched almost half a mile and stood 300 feet in height, but 11 of its 20 steel piers were toppled by the storms. Two more days and 24 miles of hiking along Blue Mountain have brought us this afternoon into the small town of Port Clinton. An immediate visit to the Post Office to collect mail drops and packages - replacement boots from home for "Thistle", an ant-infested food drop for "Two Speeds" - was followed by a visit to the outfitter's store. A bittersweet occasion for me for I have finally had to replace my boots. The front sole on my left boot has been repaired twice but rips open within a couple of days back on the trail. Now the right boot is doing the same, and I came into Port Clinton with duct tape all over the front of each boot and the soles flapping anyway. Boots do indeed come to Pennsylvania to die! I loved my boots. They lasted 1400 miles and never gave me one blister. May they rest in peace. Pennsylvania sucks!