Date: 2003-06-18
From: Eckville Shelter

To: Bake Oven Knob Shelter
Miles today: 17.4
Weather: overcast clouds

Turnaround has gone to Maine. Commander in Chief has pushed on to be at Delaware Water Gap by her 50th birthday, June 21. Ben is in the hospital.So, it's down to ItchyFoot and me. "And that's scary," said Itchy.You see, we are The Opposites. He is a morning person; I am not. He is always itchy to be moving; I am a lollygager, stopping at overlooks and snapping photos of newts or laurels. He is a pessimist; I am an optimist.The Opposites.The one thing we have going for us, that binds us inextricably on the AT, is a bang-on similar hiking pace. If we start the day together and take the same breaks, we will be coming into camp together.The other thing is my lost guidebook. I am flying blind, and happy to follow Itchy's hiking plan for today. He knows where the springs and the shelters are. I follow the white blazes, which I can see, though I notice he's put his glasses on.It is pouring down rain when we leave. My feet are wet almost immediately. SIGH. Man, I HATE wet socks... The rocks step up their pace today, and become more challenging. Finally, we see what the fabled Pennsylvania rocks are all about.I have stubbed my toes endless times in this state. Each whang goes right up the leg, into the solarplexus. I am stubbing the bumpers off my toes. I will need new shoes by New York. Luckily, I have a pair waiting in Bear Mountain, NY - about 10 days from here.I learn we will pass a restaurant just off the AT before lunchtime. I am delighted. What a treat for a grey, wet day. We can use the phone to find out about Ben, whose absence lingers like a presence. "I can smell that hot coffee!" exclaims LiteShoe, the Optimist."CLOSED for renovations!" postulates Itchy Foot, the Pessimist. We laugh. The Opposites.At Blue Mountain B&B, the restaurant IS closed. Not open on Wednesdays. But someone is vacuuming, and where there is life, there is hope. I muster my best yogi, and knock on the door. It's best just to be oneself, I learned from Ben, and make one's needs known. No need for guile. It still amazes me how folks turn themselves inside out to help.A lady calls out to someone in the back - "hikers!" The door opens. I explain our need for a phone, and the door swings wide, letting us in out of the rain. Hallelujah!Itchy Calls his wife, who relays the latest on Ben - broken in three places. I collect my pocketmail, and send a message ahead to my friend Trooper, who is meeting us in Palmerton.I smell coffee, and ask if they would sell a cup. They emerge with two steaming cups, plus cream. Ooooh, baby!"I know you are closed, but you wouldn't have any sandwiches back there, would you?" I ask. They produce two thick club sandwiches, stacked high with turkey, bacon and vegetables. Oh, heaven! Finally, I ask to use the bathroom, flush toilets, TP, soap and hot water. I wash my hands and face, and fill my water bottles. Civilization has its fine moments. We are warm, dry, emptied out, washed up, well fed. Thank you Blue Mountain Bed and Breakfast! Itchy is laughing - from a closed restaurant to total need fulfillment. I tell him I learned from the master yogi - Ben.For the rest of the day, we walked on scary ridges. It rained for the first couple hours. The rocks were wet. Both Mule and Prince Willy took spills in the rocks, and Mule complained that his arm was hurting in the registers. We all treat the rocks with a new respect today.The day's "highlight" was a sketchy traverse known as "The Knife Edge." It's not a footpath at this point, it's an obstacle course. An upthrusting shelf of rock, turned on edge, covered in slippery lichen - this is what we crossed with packs. It took both arms and much caution. We both looked at each other and thought the same thing: Ben couldn't do this section one-handed. On the descents, my knee starts to zing loudly for the first time in a month. I put my Cho-Pat brace back on - aaaah, relief. It cradles my patella like a mother's hand. The jumble of rocks is high and steep, the boulders falling off on both sides. We are perhaps more cautious than normal, Ben's breaks in the foremost of our minds.All of a sudden, a fellow dressed like a gypsy - bright yellow Columbia jacket, bandana on his head, earring, swarthy beard - comes flowing over the rocks, spouting a non-stop monologue. It is near-blind Healer, who used to be a doctor before his vision got cloudy. He passes us effortlessly, making us smile with his comedy routine on the rocks. "Oh, my meniscus!" he yelps, and makes us laugh. Tension eased. We get to a small road, and a van is parked there. The door swings open as I pass by."Jan LiteShoe?" It is trail magic by Elaine Rocket "Wanabe" from Illinois, who was zeroing after completing a PA section. She had been reading my journal and had hoped to intercept me.We sit on her rear bumper and consume sodas, chips, salsa, carrots, cheese dips. B-Roc and Healer join us in the munching. Itchy heads off to the shelter, but I linger a bit, chatting. Finally, I bid Elaine goodbye and set off with Healer. We charge along, talking about Tai Chi, MS, a proper diet, meditation. He is a strong hiker, yet he has MS, like my friend Palmer. He is raising funds for it.I feel energized and manage to keep up. Before Bake Oven Knob shelter, the rocks get testy again, but the conversation is engaging and I hardly notice. Soon, the shelter is here, and we bid good-bye.At the shelter, Itchy builds a fire, in memory of Ben and his pyro ways. "Benji," I teased him.B-Roc let us use his phone to call Ben at 8 pm. We learn he is on the bus, on his way home to see his wife and his family doctor. "I thought I might get right back on, but I can't even tie my shoes," he said. This is painful for me to hear, but he seems so calm and accepting."I'm so sorry, Ben," I blurt. He will have none of it. "I have to think it was meant to be," he said.Where does he get this acceptance? I would be railing against reality, in a fury. He vows to finish either later this year, or the next.Both Itchy and I feel better after talking to Ben.Tomorrow, on to Palmerton and the jailhouse hostel. Ha! I can't wait to call my father and deliver the phone call he's always dreaded would come: "Daddy, it's me, Jan... I'm in jail... send lawyers, guns and money..."