Date: 2004-05-30
From: Walkin' Blues

To: Appalachia Waltz
Miles today: 15.5

I made it to the ruins of Yellow Springs before the morning mist dissipated. I was rather disappointed¢ I was expecting a ghost town, but all I got were a few piles of rock with a mailbox in the middle. Oh, and those kids from last night had their oversized tents pitched between those piles. I decided not to stick around, because there is nothing creepier than some weird guy poking around your tent in the morning. And I¢m pretty weird.        A little further down the trail I¢d pass through Rausch Gap, which was also the site of a village. Now all that¢s left is a disused well and a cemetery. Otherwise, no signs that people once had houses and stores here. Sad, really; according to the Appalachian Trail Guide book back in 1850 it flourished until it was large enough to accommodate a Catholic mission and, I assume, some of the cross-state travelers.         It was kind of sad, really, to think people lived, worked and died in a place that no longer exists. At least they still have their tombstones - the latest dating to 1853.Reconnaissance ReportJust before I reached Rausch Gap I stopped at a shelter. It was one of the smaller ones, being barely a lean-to with a table and a water trough. Still, it was a great place to have lunch.        I also took this opportunity to think about what Hillbilly told me. I ha been on the trail for three days, and there were some things I still hadn¢t used. This seemed to be the perfect place to get rid of the heavier ones. I unstrapped my tent (which, despite being a small one-man pup tent, was still too big to be useful here), dug out my collapsible shovel (for burying ... well ... let¢s just say I did what bears do in the woods), one of the four bandannas I ended up with (I forgot I packed the first two when I packed the second two) and a bag of soybeans (I don¢t know what I was thinking when I brought salted food when I knew water would be scarce). Getting rid of these made me feel like I was about to take off flying when I stood up straight.           As I was repacking gear, a black dog came running into the shelter. He was followed by an older guy with a silver mustache and a lacquered walking staff. We had a nice conversation before I found out his name was Gary, so for the sake of convenience I¢ll refer to him as Gary as I relate this part of the story.        While I used his water filter to fill my canteen, Gary told me he had hiked from Delaware Water Gap to the Sawarta Gap, which was the end part of the trip I was on. I was pretty excited when he said he managed 17 miles in one day, although he only averaged 12-13 miles. Still, he said a young guy could be able to clear that distance in five days, which was my plan.        Gary also had an interesting opinion about the ultrahikers. He had seen them too, walking full-speed down the trail, breezing past the scenic views and fretting about every pound they carry. ¢It really doesn¢t look like they¢re having much fun out there,¢ he said. I was glad to hear someone else made that observation.Appalachia WaltzOn the map, it looks easy. The trail snakes and curves, but with the scale it doesn¢t look like much. Every inch is a mile, and it¢s not that many inches from the Rausch Gap to the Sawarta Gap. I figured I should be there by the afternoon.        Well, the map omits a lot of details. It didn¢t mention how the trail becomes a bridge made of wooden planks stretching across a meadow of six-foot-tall Timothy grass. It doesn¢t note how the trail leads to a wide clearing where you have to look in all directions to see a white blaze on a post that barely stick out from the grass. Most of all, though, it doesn¢t convey just how frustrating all those curves in the trail are.        I thought I was getting close to the Sawarta Gap when I heard the traffic. I told myself it¢d be just beyond the next hill. Ok, not the one I just climbed, the next one. Ok, not that one either. Next one, seriously. No, next one. Wait ... now the trail is going in the wrong direction. Ok, it¢s turning around. Now just ... not that one either.        Finally, I found the iron bridge spanning the Sawarta Gap. It was ten feet below me. I now got to walk down one final hill.        After I cleared the bridge, I took a second to take my boots off. I had corns forming on each toe, a raw spot on the back of my right heel, and nothing but bruises on my soles. My feet looked like ground beef and nobody likes footburgers.         Still, I had no choice but to press on. I walked up the next hill via a paved trail and got back on the dirty stone-filled paths. On the way, two ultrahikers who had to be a little younger than me breezed. One had thick blond hair and a beard that hadn¢t seen a razor for months, the other a man with a dark complexion and an accent. I only saw them for a couple of minutes, but since they become relevant later in this journal I felt it necessary to include this sighting.         It was seven miles to the next shelter, but I only cleared six of them before it got to dark to see the blazes. I ended up sleeping alongside the trail, in a spot just barely long enough between the rocks, and pointed my walking stick in the direction I wanted to follow in that morning.