Date: 2005-07-04
From: Rausch Creek

To: 501 Shelter
Miles today: 17.4
Weather: broken clouds

7/5, 7:22am - Independence Day"Sandy, the fireworks are hailing over Little Eden tonightBringing light to all those stoned out faces left stranded in this Fourth of July."The night before last, I slept the soundest I ever have in the woods. It was almost like a normal night's sleep. I awoke to a cool, clear morning. After a lazy breakfast Crazy Legs and I relocated to the nearby shelter to wait for Professor Nutbag. Once again, Pennsylvania provided a very nice shelter, this one in a carved out hollow with a trough for the spring. The privy, however, had burned down in May according to the shelter register - "never bring a match to a privvy fight," it read. All that remained was two latches, a spring, and a charred patch of ground.Skywalker, Whitewater, and Nurse Ratchett showed up in lieu of Professor. Skywalker said he had seen Senor Nutbag stirring in camp, but he seemed grumpy about the prospect of hiking 24 miles to catch us at the 501 Shelter. Based on the fact that Professor wasn't hiking yet, we abandoned our waiting and started hiking. It was 10am. Eventually you have to hike your own hike.We had lunch by the beautiful Waterville Iron Bridge before the day's climb. Pennsylvania is one ridge walk after another, interrupted by the occasional switching of ridges. Today had the blandest ridge line I've ever seen. We were denied vistas; our views were restricted to the massive quantities of poison ivy lining the trail. Things improved marginally after the William Penn Shelter, a double decker monstrosity with a huge loft area. The final few miles had a grand total of two overlooks.I reached the 501 shelter around 5:30. Once again, Pennsylvania has outdone itself. This shelter is more like a free hostel. It's a huge wooden shed, perhaps 20 feet by 30 feet, that has individual bunks for a dozen hikers. A banquet table complete with a checkered table cloth lies underneath its domed skylight, while an American flag on the wall keeps guard over the place. There's a dartboard (minus the darts), a few framed pictures, recycling bins, a stack of old magazines, and a mirror on the wall. Outside, there's a solar shower just around the back.Best of all, it's right near a road and a pizza joint in a nearby town delivers. With visions of pepperoni dancing through our imagination, we called them up. The phone rang and rang - no answer. We called directory assistance and every pizza place they gave us had the same result. Finally, we found a Chinese place that was open, but they didn't deliver. We were forced to do what any self-respecting thru-hiker carrying plenty of food would do in these circumstances: place a take out order and hitch to town.With a shelter's hopes and dreams riding on their shoulders, Crazy Legs and Skylark bravely marched off toward the road. We waited. And then we waited. As if that weren't enough we waited some more. After an hour and a half, two headlamps were spotted walking toward the shelter. The unmistakable scent of Chinese filled the air.We sat down beneath the American Flag for our Fourth of July Feast. We were seven (Crazy Legs, Skylark, Che, Peanut [another one, not the one from Shenandoah], Eagle Foot, Nutbag, and myself), but our appetites were great. Nonetheless, some of us were defeated by the heaping portions. The General Tso's chicken, however, didn't stand a chance against me.After dinner, I cracked open a fortune cookie. It read, "Time heals all wounds." The day before, I came across a note left by Turbo Joe at a road crossing. Due to personal issues, he's getting off the trail. Joe, if you are reading this, I wish you the best of luck. It's been good hiking with you.