Date: 2004-05-22
From: Duncannon, PA

To: Peters Mountain Shelter
Miles today: 11.3
Weather: overcast clouds

Semi-Joy and I were still a bit banged up from our 26 mile day so we decided to take it easy today and hike only to the second shelter down the trail. My feet are pretty hit - I'm really coming to understand that the most important gear I have on the trail has to be my shoes, which I humbly admit that I am outgrowing. I was on the phone with my mom yesterday and she was insisting that I buy new boots to get me into Jersey. I can't believe how resistant I am to the idea. I think it's because it means coming to terms with shelling out at least another $100 and accepting that I am not a size 8 1/2 anymore - at least on the trail.As a tribute to the man who passed at the Doyle I spent the morning listening to voices from beyond: Morphine, Jeff Buckley, Elliot Smith, Hendrix, The Beatles, and even New Order (loophole). It was a nice climb out of Duncannon on a fairly hot and humid day. We saw a copperhead basking in the sun on the ridge rocks - that sucker didn't even flinch when my trekking pole touched down a mere 6 inches from him. I definitely flinched as my mind quickly registered that this indeed was a poisonous snake and then I quickly and carefully skirted around him. Apparently Pennsylvania is swarming with snakes, the rocky terrain provides millions of perfect little snake dens in the cracks and crevices. When we're wading through boulders I generally make it a point to turn my Ipod down or off to listen for rattlesnakes - I'm just not in Kansas anymore. Trailangel Mary left some candy by PA 225 so Semi-Joy and I took the opportunity to take a rest in the shade of the road turnout. Here we ran into Mack and Dad, a father-daughter duo from New Hampshire, and hiked the remaining miles to the shelter with them in tow. Mack is thru-hiking and Dad is just sectioning with her during his holiday from work. They're a fun pair, but Dad's internal alarm clock takes some getting used to. They're up at approximately 5am every morning and asleep by 7pm or so. I generally pop up by 6am or so, just because the sun is out, but this is only my trail schedule - at home 6am makes me wince. And 5am is just wrong.We rolled into Peters Mountain Shelter to find the campground swarming with Boy Scouts. Swarming. The traffic on the trail generally increases over the weekend, but this was the biggest crowd I have seen to date. To top it off, the shelter itself was full of hikers, and this was a large double tiered shelter that must sleep near 20. I was in mild shock and found myself holing up alone off to the side of the shelter with a good book. I think it was just too much stimulation and conversation for me - I wasn't feeling it, plus my book is excellent and I find surprisingly little time to read it - I'm usually pretty tired at night. So I just relaxed, read for awhile, made dinner, and then went for a walk and found a nice rock on which to watch the sunset. After 7 or so Red Dog, First Light, Mousetrap, and Gentle Ben rolled into the shelter, transforming it into a frat house. All we needed were some Greek letters on the side of the shelter. I knew who these guys were because I had read their entires in the shelter registers (every shelter keeps a notebook that hikers can sign when they come through. Some just write that they stopped by, others leave messages for other hikers, and some get creative and write witty little rants or poetry. I get moody with these things - for days I sign and then for awhile I disappear). Plus, Boo's-Goose had hiked with them for awhile and provided stories of their antics. They essentially rolled in, got drunk, made hot dogs and smores and provided general entertainment for the masses. It reminded me of hiking with LudaChris, Chef, and Van Gogh in the South and for a moment I had a mild pang of missing them. All in all a nice day to be back on the trail after our day off. The Boy Scouts were great, they're generally well behaved and respectful of the trail and of other hikers. In fact, I've found them far more impressive then some of the adults I have met out here. OK - 2 second rant here. I can't stand litter. While on the trail you're supposed to abide by the principles of "leave no trace" which essentailly means that you take nothing but pictures and leave nothing but footprints. Then you find idiots (grrrr) that toss foil packets into the fire thinking they will burn, assume the plastic bag in the shelter must be where they should leave their garbage, and I'm not even going to address what their idea of a privy is. I'm talking about grown men here to whom I have occasionally had the privilage of addressing their mess, often in a manner laced with sarcasm, but sometimes in a more effective and less aggressive way. That's right, didi is cleaning up the trail one schmuck at a time.