Date: 2018-05-08
From: Iron Masters Mansion

To: Campsite by Brook at 1114.7
Miles today: 11.3
Weather: clear sky

This is one of those perfect days when I can¢t imagine being any place other than where I am on the Appalachian Trail. But first a few comments about last night. Rocky Raccoon and I stayed at the Iron Masters Mansion in Pine Grove Furnace State Park last night. It is a mansion of many rooms. Unfortunately only two are used as guest dorms. Rocky was upstairs with Mary Ann (trail name ¢No Commitment¢) and they had the ladies¢ dorm and bath to themselves. I shared the men¢s dorm with 13 others. The guy on the top bunk opposite me snored. Snoring is to be expected, but F-35 snoring with each inhalation is not. Naturally, he retired first. The audible snoring was bad enough, but there was also subsonic undertones that penetrated the best earplugs. It¢s how elephants communicate over long distances and alligators make the water appear to boil around them.  Reid showed the most sense. After two hours of sleeplessness, he grabbed his pillow and blanket and retreated to the common area sofa. Wish I had thought of that. Instead, I tossed and turned along with everyone else for the entire night. I got up at one point to pee and wondered that if I smothered him with a pillow, would anyone rat me out? Rocky could hear and feel the snoring through the ceiling. Day Maker slept on the bunk beneath him and swears the bed vibrated all night. Morning inevitably came, and along with it Eggo Waffles, bagels, scrambled eggs, orange slices, coffee and orange juice. Later this morning two hikers from the hostel passed Rocky and me. I asked if they slept well last night. The large man just grunted and rolled his eyes. The other slender wiry guy with a pointed chin chirped that he had slept perfectly. Then I recognized him as the snorer. He seemed quite proud of his accomplishment. I have named him for my own reference, Ferret. Meanwhile in the cool guys¢ campground in the Park, the mystique of Willow continued to blossom. Willow and Sam took a tent site next to a 25¢ Renegade recreational vehicle. They were able to shower in the camp bathhouse. They describe it as a prison shower. Each press of the button yielded just 6 seconds of water. Later that evening a couple from the RV brought them cups of apple tea served in bone China set upon Christmas napkins and prayed for God¢s protection for their journeys. They also left their RV unlocked so Willow and Sam could charge their devices, cautioning them that, ¢You know that you are entrusting your precious electronics to us.¢ They responded that, ¢You are entrusting your trailer to us.¢The hike today was anticlimactic by comparison. Perfect temperatures in the 50¢s and 60¢s, a gentle breeze, the trees just leafed out enough to dapple the sunlight. The native azaleas just beginning to open their pink blossoms that smell delicately sweet, like TOPS bubblegum at a distance. The uphills were short and the downhills gentle. Much of the walking was along old woods roads or on a rail bed that had served the iron plantation. I saw five circular pits about 12¢ in diameter that were used for wood ricks to make charcoal for the Furnace. We also saw a dead mouse on the trail that upset Rocky, especially since I may have stepped on it. Rocky also spotted a small pile of rabbit fur that bodes poorly for the bunny. At one point, two Buddhist monks in brown robes closely followed by eight disciples in hiking clothes, all with backpacks, passed us southbound. One carried a hiking umbrella. I commented, ¢Mary Poppins!¢ and got no reaction. I asked how far they were going. One said, quite seriously, ¢We are on the Trail of Happiness.¢ Whatever. Hike your own hike; carry your own stick (or s%#t).  A bit later at a road crossing, we met Begonia, a 20-something southbound section hiker ¢only¢ going to Tennessee. She wore a black headband surmounted with a wild nest of purple hair and had several facial piercing. Begonia was happiness personified. Rocky and I had intended to camp at James Fry Shelter tonight, but we got there at 11:00. We continued on another four miles to a lovely campsite by a gently babbling brook. This will leave us eight miles tomorrow to Boiling Springs. Willow and Sam are with us. After lunch in Boiling Springs and a visit to the historic tavern, we will meet a shuttler at the ATC regional office and go to Carlisle for the night. Rocky¢s partner Rick who is returning from ski/hike trip in Utah will meet us there. They will have one room. Willow, Sam and I will have another. It¢s okay. We are tramily now. This will mark the end of Rocky Raccoon¢s hike. She will be sorely missed not just by me but by everyone who has met her. For us Flip-Floppers, she has hiked with us from the start of our hikes. Like us, she has gained in strength and confidence and will carry with her deep and caring friendships, as well as two black eyes and a possibly broken nose.