Date: 2009-07-24
From: Eagle's Nest Shelter

To: Port Clinton
Miles today: 8.6
Weather: scattered clouds

Last night was a cold night. I waited until the sun came out the next morning before really getting up. I reluctantly folded up the clothing that Mac, Dreamcatcher, and CD had given me and handed them back to them. Ultralight backpacking certainly comes at a risk and you have to be absolutely sure that you are able to maintain yourself without the reliance on others. The descent into Port Clinton, was one of the steepest there has been on the trail. Talking to other thru-hikers later on, many people fell on the way down ¢ and on multiple occasions. I took the descent VERY slowly and managed only to slip a few times because of the loose gravel ¢ but, without falling. Port Clinton is a port because in the 1800¢s, several businesses constructed the Schuylkill Canal which transported goods ¢ primarily coal ¢ from Blue Mountain to the Schuylkill River en route to Reading and Philadelphia. It was a very important port in its own heyday. My Uncle Mike, Aunt Martha, and Cousin John-John have been up to Port Clinton many times during hunting season, having a burger and fries in the Port Clinton Hotel. I arrived at the Ole Ye Backpackers Outfitter, where I met up with Jungli and Dah Wah He. My clothing, sleeping bag, and other pack contents were still drenched from the night before and, as the sun was coming out, I took everything out and laid it out on the street to dry. I also caught up with Blue Eyes and Gnarly and finally met 10X10. They were all pushing on and I had to wait behind, as my childhood friends Kelly Brightbill and Megan Ulrich were coming up to visit the following day and wanted to do the Pinnacle climb. For this reason, I had to stall, stall, stall. I picked up my mail drop at the post office, where I received all sorts of encouraging notes from Kathy, Becky, Katie, and Alex. Kathy¢s note said that she is in negotiations with her husband, Mike, to make a trip up to Maine at the culmination of the trek. It would be incredible to have them up, but I also recognize that it is a LONG drive to and from Baxter State Park. By the way, I looked up the Knife Edge for the Mt. Katahdin climb in Maine and saw that 19 people have died since 1963, mostly due to exposure in bad weather and falls along the Knife Edge. Alex¢s note was quite clever. On his last post-it note, he wrote me all the way back in Troutville, VA, saying ¢Virginia or Bust!¢ on the back. This time, he wrote in big bold letters, ¢MAINE OR BUST!!!¢ I will, again, carry it with me as long as it does not reduce to small bits of paper. I set up camp on the opposite end of town in the town¢s pavilion. Rather than have stinky, dirty thru-hikers walk rampant around town, Port Clinton provides free ¢lodging¢ in the Pavilion. After getting set up, we called the Cabela¢s van, who came to pick us up promptly and shuttled us off to Cabela¢s. While there, I ate an ostrich sandwich for the first time in my life. It was very similar to roast beef. I also tried to convince customer service to allow for me to exchange my beat-up pair of shoes for a new pair of Keen¢s, as they were selling the exact same ones in the store. Dah Wah He had told me that manufacturers will do a credit and that it should easily be worked out between the retailer and the manufacturer. I didn¢t buy into this, but I tried it anyway to avoid any difficulty logistically in getting the shoes. The manager said that there was no way at all that they could receive destroyed shoes from another retailer. I understood his viewpoint and didn¢t argue any further. Back at the pavilion, Jungli and I sat down and skimmed through the photos that she had taken during her entire AT thru-hike. It was great seeing these photos, especially from the perspective of a fellow thru-hiker. Dah Wah He, Mac, and Ramble On had headed up to the Port Clinton bar an hour earlier, so after Jungli and I had finished up, I headed up the street as well. Inside the bar and directly next to where I was about to sit, I saw a couple finish their dinner and leave, thereby leaving a large bowl of French fries and a half-eaten plate of meatloaf. I nudged Dah Wah He, who is a 50+ old thru-hiker, having walked the AT last year and the Florida Trail over the winter (over 4,000 miles in 15 months), and asked him if he thought I could eat some of the strangers¢ food. Just as I said it and before Dah Wah He could answer, a plump old man got up from the bar, walked around the bar to the inside, picked up the plates and placed them in a dish rack, glaring at me the entire time. We had been warned on several occasions that the owners of the restaurant (this plump man being one of them) did not like to have thru-hikers in the restaurant. I suppose that if I were back in civilization and I saw someone coming off the street, trying to eat a stranger¢s leftovers, I would be taken aback a bit. Oh well. I had a few pints as we watched the Phillies get destroyed by the Cardinals 8-1. I¢m not a big fan of baseball at all, but it was just nice to sit at a bar and have a few drinks with some fellow thru-hikers. Then came the shots. Dah Wah He, Mac, Ramble On, and I each bought a round of shots ¢ primarily of butterscotch vodka topped off with some Bailey¢s cream. Delicious. Later on in the evening, Mayaguez, a 66-year-old Puerto Rican thru-hiker from Ohio, and Pacer, a 63-year-old thru-hiker from Arizona, sat down at the bar and I started chatting with them. They had been hiking with Floater, another 66-year-old man who has thru-hiked since Georgia, but one who has a much more fragile body frame. It is just so impressive to see these ol¢ timers out here doing the same distance that we are. It¢s very inspiring and I hope to be as fit and adventurous when I¢m their age, as they are now. We all left the bar feeling a bit on the toasty side, but this was our original intention. All in all, it was a fun night.