Date: 2006-06-18
From: Hertlein Campsite

To: Port Clinton, PA
Miles today: 18.1
Weather: scattered clouds

This day kicked my ass. 18 miles today was tougher than the 26 miles into Duncannon on Wednesday. Now that I'm out of the farmland, Pennsylvania is living up to its reputation. No, this trip won't get any easier. There are just varying degrees of hard.There wasn't much elevation gain and loss. The hike was across a long ridgeline. It's the Pennsylvania rocks. I have blisters in new places from the new ways my feet twist and bend as I try to get firm footing. There is no firm footing here. The pain in my left shoulder and between my shoulder blades intensifies. It's from my hiking poles not my pack. Every time I lurch forward I slam a pole into the rocks to brace against a fall. My shoulders absorb the shock. I know the more nimble and better coordinated hikers are having a tough time. I'm just a mess.Probably as bad as the rocks today was the heat. 96 degrees I found out later on. All I know is that it was hot and I kept going. You don't think about it much. You just know that it's a chore. Nor much fun on days like this, only making progress and getting through. The miles don't fly here and heat slows them down even more. You work like a dog to make distance and then discover you've only come half as far as you think. After all, I'm a hiking super hero now. I should have flown into Port Clinton. On days like this, your super powers are stamina and resolve.Singing and doing a running monologue got me through several miles. Rosemary Clooney and Irving Berlin would both turn over at the way I mangle Sisters. Bette Midler would just have a good laugh.My monologues usually end with me shouting into the hills and woods. Today I was proclaiming that bears and elk may range over large territories but that my territory is over 2000 miles and I have them all beat. I was also yelling about all the cravings that I would satisfy in Port Clinton. When I yell into the woods like this I own them. I own them until someone else hears me and then I just feel stupid. When I passed a couple ahead of me I asked if they's heard me talking to myself as if anyone could have missed it. I said I quit for a while but the woman said to keep talking about hamburgers in Port Clinton.One important lesson learned today. Never skip a water source, not in the summer. In winter and spring all the sources were flowing all the time and there were more of them in the South. I left camp this morning with 2 liters of water and a liter of Gatorade and I didn't really think about the 18 miles ahead except that I wanted to cover them quickly. Some water sources are so far off the trail that its not worth interrupting a hike when there is more water ahead. That theory didn't work today. I didn't think about water when I stopped to rest at the shelter halfway through the hike. I ate and drank but didn't refill. After all, there were easier sources to find up ahead. But there weren't. The next 3 were dry. With 4 miles to town I had less than a liter of water. Not a big problem on a cool day, but big problem today. I rationed well and took the last 2 gulps when I could hear cars on the highway and saw the trail drop off steeply down to the Schuylkill River. Over the last 4 miles I thought I was making good time and progress towards my next landmark. But a glance at the guide said that mark was still a mile away. It was like the ground beneath my feet opened and stretched like an accordian.I wandered over the bridge and on in to town. I followed an arrow pointing towards the outfitter where I needed a few things and hoped to yogi a phone call. Before I got there I stopped to gape at what could only be a miracle. Sitting on the front lawn of a Port Clinton house was a real Coke Machine. It wasn't a lawn ornament. There was a electrical cord running out the back and up the pole. I threw my pack on the ground and dug for 4 quarters. I sat down in the dirt driveway and gulped Orange Fanta. Passers-by gaped at the Hiker Trash from the safety of SUVs and Minivans. I stopped at the Port Clinton Hotel to look for a pay phone. Jim, the section hiker from Tennessee, came in looking for a room. I don't think the man sweats or gets fatigued. He looked fresh and relaxed even though he claimed to be affected by the heat and terrain. He was still wandering around town when Hope arrived so we picked him up and found the B&B he was looking for.Now come the couple of days off that I've earned and deserve.After Fanta and feeling more myself I wandered tiny Port Clinton looking for a phone. They don't have any. The gruff bartender at the Port Clinton Hotel let me use the house phone to call for a ride. Jim came in looking for a room and the bartender told him he didn't have time to arrange one. We both took refuge on the porch where hiker trash belong.Great relief when I saw Hope pull in. Greater relief when she didn't comment on my odor or make me ride on the roof. She said she wasn't sure where to find me but she saw a dirty guy who looked like Forrest Gump staggering up the road. Obviously a hiker she stopped to ask if he'd seen me. Elle recognized right away that the guy was me. Wonderful to see them. Elle started talking to me right away and I got my first look at the baby. Both of the kids looked beautiful. We settled into nice conversation right away. We pulled over to pick up wandering Jim and give him a ride to a B&B, hopefully a friendlier place than the hotel. Then we headed off to do a couple of errands and go home.Within a half hour of getting off the trail I'd had an orange Fanta, 2 candy bars, root beer, tastycakes, chocolate milk and a doughnut. Good way to start a zero.