Date: 2004-07-03
From: George Outerbridge Shelter

To: Leroy Smith Shelter
Miles today: 16.7
Weather: clear sky

At 530am I made my way down to the Gap and across the Lehigh River bridge. By 6 I was starting the ascent. It began with a steep but ordinary climb through the vegetation at the base of the mountain. Then I broke out into the denuded area. All the vegetation had died years before from a century of zinc smelting in Palmerton, allowing the soil to wash away and leaving a barren rock mountainside.At first I could walk normally but about 630 came to the first ledge. Looking down, I was already high enough that Socks, Adam and Tree Frog starting across the bridge looked tiny as ants. I took my pack off, put my hat safe inside, collapsed my poles and strapped them to the side of my pack. Then I put the pack back on and pulled the straps so tight it was almost a part of my body. Once I was ready I found a handhold, then another, hoisted one foot up to a ledge, then the other, and repeated the process. The white blazes led this way and that up the steep rocks. It went from ledges eventually to slabs piled willy-nilly. I suddenly realized the hand and footholds I was trusting my life to were on stone slabs held in place only by their own weight. The thought of one shifting suddenly was unnerving because they were more than big enough to pin a hiker.At last I reached the crest of the ridge thrusting out from the mountain into the gap. I clampered up and over, then glanced down at the town of Palmerton hundreds of feet below. As I did so, the angle I was looking made the rocks I was standing on seem very insecure and a wave of acrophobia swept through me. It was not as bad as I had experienced in the past but I had turn turn my head and gaze fixedly at the ridge next to me until the sensation passed. Then I gingerly moved sideways to a more wider ledge. The nearest hiker was on the other side of the ridge and far below me; it was just me and the mountain, matching wits.Now I could look down and see the cars passing, ripples in the river as it flowed toward the gap and more bare and partly bare spots on the hillsides surounding the town.Now the blazes led roughly parallel to the crest of the ridge and about fifty feet below it, going sideways instead of straight up. It was on a talus slope; a loose slope of 4 to 8 inch rocks that was easier to negotiate than the boulders. Soon a rough ledge was cleared through the rocks, making progress even easier. Finally I was through the denuded area and reached scrubby trees. I sat down to eat a square of chocolate and bask in the elation of having finished the hard part of the climb. When I stood up the head of the next hiker was just popping over the ridgetop far below me.From there a much easier gravel path led through the trees. Around a bend there appeared the sign for the bypass trail used in bad weather; I was at the top! I yelled with triumph even though no one was there to hear me. It had taken just 50 minutes, the same as it had taken me to devour my half gallon of ice cream.Looking around, the damage looked less extensive and far more recovered than I had been led to believe. The section on the tip of the mountain the trail had led up was the largest totally bare area, most sections had at least spotty vegetation. Out in the arid western states it would look pretty normal. Soon I even came upon healthy blueberry plants packed with big juicy sweet berries and had a couple of handfuls.Then I broke out of the trees and stared! It did not QUITE look like another planet, there were still scattered live plants to remind me this was earth. But for as far as I could see, the north side of the mountain was nearly denuded of soil, it truly was devestated over a huge area. It looked like photos of Hiroshima, or the area devestated by WWI. Dead trees were scattered about, along with small shrubby new trees and assorted other plants starting to recolonize the wasteland. So at least it was more the Nearly Dead Zone rather than The Dead Zone. One of the most widespread of the colonizers were clumps of pink flowers on tall stems, growing from grassy-looking leaves. Scattered through the dead trees in the barren landscape, they reminded me of the famous WWI poem: "In Flander's Fields the poppies grow, among the crosses row by row..."The wasteland went on for several miles before the vegatation began to get more of a foothold. First more shrubs and flowers, then underbrush began to appear and grass started to sprout on the trail. Starting off, everything looked stunted and unhealthy, then it gradually improved. Blueberry bushes appeared, but too unhealthy to bear fruit.Finally I got to lots of healthy blueberry bushes crowded with fruit. While eating, I came across a local couple there to pick berries. The woman had been there all her life. She talked about how her father had worked at the zinc plant, how far the defoliated area had been, and how her children had loved the rock climb up from the Gap when they were little.The rest of the day was just difficult. The trail was rocky, making my feet bruised and sore. There were no good views or even blueberries. Just hiking over rough ground.When I got to the shelter at 230 I was glad I had gotten the early start. There was already a crowd there. Some moved on, but the shelter quickly filled and even tenting space was at a premium with weekend hikers coming in.There were many reports about how friendly the town of Palmerton was and what a nice hostel they had. But as much as I regreted missing it, the extra time would have gotten me here long after all the space was taken.The spring was a half-mile down a steep trail. I found I had over a liter left and decided to skip getting more. That would see me to Wind Gap, where I was to meet my brother tomorrow morning.