Date: 2004-05-24
From: Rausch Gap Shelter

To: 501 Shelter 
Miles today: 17.4
Weather: light rain

This is going to be a huge entry so grab some java.Once again, I never know what the day will bring.Woke early and woke cranky. No idea why but I knew I wasn't looking forward to the miles on my tender feet. Semi-Joy and I were a bit snippy at each other but mostly bit our tongues and hit the trail around 7:30 or so. The first hour was uphill and I totally tore it up. I put some Radiohead on my Ipod ("The Trickster") and next thing I know I'm hauling-ass up this mountain and feeling better every step. I think I just needed to get it out - whatever "it" was because by the time we reached the top of the mountain I was able to laugh and give Semi-Joy a really sweaty smile and apologize for being so cranky. It was all good - she apologized too but added that she thought I was running up the mountain in an effort to punish her for pissing me off that morning. I thought that was hysterical.Around 11am or so we hit the detour under the I-81 overpass. From here we climb up out of the gap and then along the ridgeline about 7 miles to the next shelter. There was supposed to be a spring after I-81 but then no more water until the shelter and, as usual, it was a really hot and humid day. We passed I-81, but the due to the detour never came across any spring. This left us about 2 cups of water each to make the climb and the hike the 7 miles to the shelter - not a pleasant situation. The hike would take nearly 3 hours during the hottest portion of the day. OK - so it's not like a 7 day trek across the Sahara or anything, but we kicked the last of our water around 12:15 and then thought of nothing else but the next spring for the couple of hours. And I should mention that along with now having big feet, I sweat. A lot. I chalk it up to my athletic prowess but it still makes me feel like a heifer. At the top of every climb I have sweat running off of my nose and at the end of every day my shirt is thoroughly soaked along with the waistband of my shorts. So I spent the early afternoon trying to calculate how much water I was losing vs how much I had consumed earlier in the day. That and I was thinking about cold Pepsi cans covered in condensation and my now very dry lips. The point is that I was mildly concerned about getting dehydrated - it's so easy to do and so tough to recover from. By some small act of God we came across a glorified mud puddle about 1 mile before the shelter. Although not stagnant, the water wasn't moving enough to qualify as a stream and it was literally amidst a vast stretch of mud. We were both so incredibly thirsty. I paused and looked questioningly at Semi-Joy for a second and she just shook her head. "Oh no, dude." she said, "I'm drinking from it." (let's review - she doesn't treat her water) I eagerly agreed but let her go first to see if she'd keel over or anything. After she survived the first gulp I dove in as well, but of course added my Clorox as a safety measure. I drank within a minute of treating so it's likely that any chemical reaction probably took place inside my belly, negating any sterilizing effect, but I still felt better about it. Water was cool and delicious - I can't remember such a satisfying guzzle and I don't think we even spoke while we each downed a Nalgene. After resting for awhile we refilled, drank more, and pressed on. We rolled into the famous 501 Shelter at 3:30 with a thunderstorm on our heels. Our pace over the last 2 miles was totally Nascar with every crack of thunder like a crop to our hides urging us faster and faster. The storm actually blew in less then 20 minutes after we hit the shelter and it was a good one, complete with howling winds golf ball sized hail. Always nice to be indoors for those. 501 is "famous" because it is one of the few shelters on the trail that is totally enclosed, with a skylight in the center of the ceiling. It also boasts a solar shower and flush toilets - total trail luxuries, and is located near Route 501 making it possible to order food from the shelter. When we arrived we found Dad and Mack already there and we convened with them and decided to order a pizza and pop for dinner. While waiting for the pizza man at the road turn out, Dad and I came across Christie who was sitting in her car waiting to pick Tikka and Zeek up from the trail and whisk them into town for a few days. She came back with us into the shletr and hung for awhile. I took off my boots and found that my feet were totally hit. Blisters in between the toes and the bottoms were totally peeling away and covered in rashy patches. The swelling was obvious from 10 feet away, seriously. There was no way I would be able to do 24 miles into Port Clinton tomorrow and the thought of doing two 12 miles days was unappealing as well. Actually, the thought of ever putting those shoes on again made me cringe. I began to consider my options and asked Semi-Joy if she would consider catching a shuttle into Port Clinton that night so I could hit the outfitter and get new boots. We could slackpack the miles we'd miss the following day. She agreed and then Christie offered to Port Clinton right then since Tikka and Zeek hadn't arrived yet.Next thing I know we're on the road to Port Clinton. We stop at a store called Cabela's which is to Pennsylvania what Campmor is to NJ. It's the Walmart of camping, but I still couldn't find boots that I liked (they don't carry Montrails) so I opted to check out the outfitter in Port Clinton instead. A traffic accident caused a huge back up on Rt 61, the road into PC, so Christie dropped us off at Burger King so we could hitch a ride the remainder of the way. No problemo. I did a little dumpster diving and rustled up some cardboard and then made your standard hitchhiking on the AT sign, slightly embellished: "AT Thru-Hikers; Port Clinton" (technically neither of us are thru-hiking anymore, we're section hiking. It's analogous to pretzel twists vs rods - same taste different shape). We plopped down along the side of the highway with our sign and our smiles and within 10 minutes had a ride in a cushy Buick with an older man returning from a trip to Milwaukee where he was visiting his daughter. She had just been blessed with twins.Finally in Port Clinton, we hit the Peanut Shop which is the closest thing to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory I have ever experienced in my life, and then headed for the town pavilion where hikers can sleep for free. Within no time we met Trailangel Fred, an older local man who takes care of the hikers staying at the pavilion, providing water, rides to the store, slackpacking rides, and even free beer and sodas. He drove Semi-Joy and I to the store so she could resupply and then gave us some beer and soda to "help us get to sleep". He also agreed to drive us back to the trail tomorrow so we could slackpack the miles we'd missed from yesterday. Total charity and he wouldn't accept a dime for it all. He's really awesome, but the kind of guy who likes to wear cut off jean shorts. And only cut off jean shorts, nothing else. And he was constantly reminding Semi-Joy that "if he were 50 years younger he'd be chasing her tail." Sigh. Regardless, our stay in PC wouldn't have been nearly as satisfying or interesting without good ol' Fred.That's really all for the day. Route 61 is literally 50 feet from the pavilion so I fell asleep to the rumble of trucks blowing by. If I can sleep to the screeching of the T in Boston, everything else is cake.