Date: 2004-06-02
From: Happiest Point of No Return Ever

To: Angel on the Trail to Perdition
Miles today: 15.0

I¢ve heard of trail angels, but I never met one before Fred.        Fred was the townsperson who came to the pavilion the night before. He was the one who got Lucky Star to talk about her bear encounter; he even took a photo of her torn-up bivy-bag. Still, I didn¢t realize he was a trail angel until the next morning.         To those unacquainted with trail lingo, a trail angel is someone who doesn¢t hike yet helps hikers. Fred definitely qualified; he gave Lucky Star, Stealth, Squid and I a ride to Food Lion. On the way back I mentioned I forgot to buy toilet paper, so he stopped at his house and gave us a roll for the trail. Too bad there aren¢t more people like him on the trail - or in every area of life, for that matter.         I tried to get pictures of him and one of the four hikers together, but they didn¢t come out. The moment passed as each of us chose our own directions: Stealth returned to the trail, Lucky Star declared she was taking a ¢zero day¢ and staying in Port Clinton, and Squid and I went to get breakfast at the 3C¢s diner.         Squid seemed like a good kid (no rhyme intended). While I ate a couple of eggs and scrapple he told he how he was in the Navy, hence his trailname. He also told me he had been on the trail since Harper¢s Ferry. He was a little luckier than I; he met someone who taught him about packing light before setting out on the trail. Like me, he was heading for the Delaware Water Gap and had to be there by Sunday. Unlike me, he was stopping at a shelter six miles away that night and making up the rest of the distance by doing two 20-mile days.         PA or Perdition? Going out of Port Clinton meant climbing over a hill then under an interstate bridge, ye I really didn¢t mind. The lighter backpack and nutritious meals had given me so much strength I barely even noticed the hills going out of town. I had the energy of a bear with the energy of two bears. Best of all, the weather was sunny without being too warm, ideal for a good hike.        During one of my breaks I checked the map. Up ahead I would have to venture through the Windsor Furnace, walk along the Knife Edge Ridge, climb over Bake Oven Knob, cross Ashfield Road in the Lehigh Furnace Gap, get some water at Metallica Springs, then pass the Devil¢s Pulpit ... cooking, fire, satanic references ... was I crossing eastern Pennsylvania or Hell? Was there a difference? I couldn¢t help but to remember Dante¢s words: ¢Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita mi ritrovai per una selva oscura ch© la diritta via era smarrita.¢*Big Empty In the thickest parts of the trail, I could barely see further than I could reach through the foliage. Every now and then, I¢d stop at an overlook to ponder how vast the land I was traversing was because, honestly, I was always forgetting. It¢s easy to have tunnel-vision when you¢re practically walking through a living tunnel.        So when I reached The Pinnacle that afternoon, it was a welcomed change of scenery. Apparently the closest thing to a tourist attraction that side of Hawk Mountain, it¢s basically a rocky overhang projecting out of the forest to a cliff. If you¢re willing to risk the trip out on the rocks (which is totally safe), you¢re rewarded with a panoramic view of the patchwork plots of land tended to by generations of Pennsylvania farmers. I spent a few minutes enjoying the view, dreaming of the big empty spaces Id come to miss more than television or the internet.        I walked on through the unremitting forest, braving a torrential downpour that undid all my efforts to dry my clothes. The drops were still falling from the trees when, suddenly, the trail opened up. I found myself on a wide dirt road with white blazes periodically spotting the trees on the left side.        For the first time on the trail, I began to feel an uneasy fear. I could now see the trees in their full majesty, not merely as boughs reaching up to join the forest canopy. I felt exposed as I walked the wide path between them, the only sound my boots grinding on the wet gravel. I had nothing but eerie silence for the next couple of miles flanked by giants that made me feel small, insignificant, and alien in their domains.         I followed the white blazes to a footpath branching from the side. I was glad to be among welcoming leaves again, unable to see further than I could reach. Et CeteraThe rest of the day went pretty easy, although I had exhausted most of my energy by the time I reached the Eckville Shelter 15 miles from where I started. This was basically a shed behind a ATC member¢s house, loaded with bunks, games, books, and conveniently located by a refrigerator stocked with cookies and pop. It also had a series of rules ranging from ¢No Smoking¢ to ¢Guys - Piss in the Woods¢ that made me question how much common sense hikers have. *Translation: ¢When I had journeyed half of my life¢s way, I found myself within a shadowed forest, for I had lost the path that does not stray.¢ It¢s the opening line to Inferno. and it¢s much more fun to say in Italian.