Date: 2016-05-06
From: Quarry Gap Shelter

To: Boiling Springs, PA
Miles today: 36.5
Weather: light rain

This will be a long series of posts, as I attempt to cover the highlights of the last week or so, so bear with me. I had a few posts ready to go, but I just reread them and they're mostly useless pontificating, so I'm rewriting it all...After leaving Rhino at Quarry Gap Shelter, I set off to do 13 miles. It was raining, on and off, and rocky, on and off. For a while I hiked through the most luxurious pine forest that smelled like heaven and Christmas and was like walking on pillows. It was mostly unremarkable, since the rain limited the views, but I've been writing what may be The Next Great American Novel in my head, so I was kept well enough entertained.About 10 miles into the day, it occurred to me that I could comfortably make it another three miles past my planned stopping point and stay at the Ironmasters Mansion Hostel in the State park. The allure of dry clothes, hot coffee that wasn't instant, and people (!) was too great to resist. I hadn't seen a soul all day and was getting a bit tired of myself. I had also hiked through the gloomy Dead Woman's Hollow for the past two hours and was feeling a strong case of the heeby jeebies setting in.With that in mind, I scurried down the trail at breakneck speed and ended up with the option to take a blue blaze (side trail) to a place called Sunset Rocks that was only 1/4 mile longer than the trail. "Sure why not?"The climb to Sunset Rocks was challenging- hand over foot scrambling and climbing over massive granite boulders, the smallest the size of a Fiat. Panting, I reached the top of the climb, only to find a pre-teen boy, wearing blue jeans, sneakers, and a not at all sweaty t-shirt and pushing a similarly tidy bicycle. "Hello," I said, shocked to see my first person of the day. He nodded and walked past me, ostensibly to ride or carry his bike down the rock scramble I'd just climbed up. Sunset Rocks is a narrow, quite spiky, rock ridgeline, which plummets straight down on either side. I scrambled and scrabbled my way across the ridge, wondering how in the world that kid got his bike up there. As I reached the descent trail, which slid down the backside of the hill at an implausible angle, I realized there was no possible way to get a bike to that rock formation. The obvious conclusion, after several days solo hiking? That kid was a mother-effing ghost! So, for obvious reasons, I ran the rest of the way to the hostel.Incidentally, the hostel was beautiful- in a renovated mansion that had belonged to the Ironmaster of the Pine Grove Iron furnace for which the state park is named. It was old and vaguely creepy, but the caretakers assured us that the ghost hunters hadn't found a thing last time they rented the place out. I should clarify who "us" is, here: I was joined at the hostel by two NOBO hikers, 38 and K-Train. They were very cool people, and, having hit the official midpoint of their through hike that day, had a lot of advice to offer.Because of the cold weather, None of us took part in the half-gallon challenge, for which Pine Grove Furnace is famous- eat a half gallon of ice cream to commemorate crossing the half-way point- but the caretakers did feed us a hearty meal and send us to bed with comfortably full bellies. And we got to watch their dog finish off a half gallon of sherbet...The next morning promised rain, too, so I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed early, so I could get the miles over with. We chowed down on waffles, bagels, and muffins, then headed out. I snapped some pictures of the iron furnace and the still-shuttered AT Museum, then started walking. My Great American Novel got some attention this morning: Ana is really starting to be an interesting character... I walked, it rained, I kept walking. I stopped at a shelter for lunch and hot tea and met another thru-hiker I had been leap frogging for days, KT. We chatted for a bit, she was considering just staying there for the rest of the day. I continued on. Around 4:30, I arrived at my goal shelter to find 38 and K-Train already holed up there. They had optimistically planned for a much higher mileage day, but the rain was just too miserable. The night was generally unexceptional, besides the jarring and noisy late arrival of a section hiker with a very bright headlamp.The next morning, I darted into Boiling Springs, PA, catching a dose of trail magic in the form of ice water at a road crossing in the way. Boiling Springs is a charming little town- I stopped at the ATC Mid-Atlantic office first, then on to the local coffee shop for French toast and a cappuccino. After, I chatted with the guys at the local outfitters, bought a new sport, and headed towards the only hotel in town.The Allenberry is the type of resort that I imagine had a Patrick Swayze-esque dance teacher back in its heyday. Now up f sale and tragically on its last legs, the cottages and myriad dining rooms and bars were mostly closed. There was a theater, tennis courts, and trout fishing, all vaguely derelict but still quaint. Plus, my room with a King sized bed came in at a whopping $40. I did normal town chores- laundry, food resupply at a gas station, wandering aimlessly. I then watched the last 45 minutes of Dinner for Schmucks before heading off to the Allenberry's bar for a dinner of my own. The Kentucky Derby was on the bar TV and, even more entertaining, there was a vaguely redneck wedding in the adjoining banquet hall. I watched with amusement as Busty Bobbi (note the "i" at the end of the name) flirted with the bartender and loudly announced that the man with her, appropriately named Skip, was "a FRIEND." With no personal interest in appealing to the bartender, I shoveled a cheeseburger and fries into my face with abandon. It was at this moment that the tattooed, whiskey drinking Army vet to my right realized I must also be a thru-hiker. He introduced himself as ODB, a name I recognized from trail registers, and we passed the evening gossiping about Bobbi, trading trail stories and fielding questions from the locals. When I left the bar at Hiker Midnight (8 pm-ish) my bar mates loudly wished me good luck. I'm probably going to need it...