Spout is fired. She was supposed to be journaling the last four days but instead used her limited leisure time on things like “looking at the map” and “catching up with family”. It’s unacceptable really. Here’s some retrospective journaling from my boring POV.
7/11- Day 72
19.9 miles from Tagg Run to Carlisle Quality Inn
We hiked an easy mile to the Green Mountain Deli for coffee and sandwiches in the morning and it was 10:00am by time we truly started moving. The dilemma we faced today was an eighteen mile no-camping zone beginning near Boiling Springs, PA through privately owned pastures. Our only option other than going short mileage or hiking a ridiculously long day was staying at a hotel somewhere in the middle- a perfect capitalist scheme.
The trail leaving the deli was what Star described as a “mini rollercoaster”. In truth, it was more like a kiddie coaster, as none of the climbs were greater than 300′. At the top of the second hill, we came across a field of massive boulders where the trail navigated through tight, difficult-to-follow crevasses. Aptly named the rock maze, we found ourselves lost among the stoney corridors for about a half mile.
After ten miles and five or six short climbs, we reached Center Point Knob. This was significant because it is the northern most point of the Blue Ridge Mountains, which we have been following all the way since Springer Mountain. After this, we had a long stretch of farmland in which the trail left the cover of trees and entered a massive cornfield. The flattest trail we had ever hiked continued for a few miles until we reached Boiling Springs, PA.
Boiling Springs is reminiscent of the town in Gilmore Girls (which I only know because Spout watches it, I swear). The first thing you notice is the lake in the town center, with quaint houses around the perimeter, teeming with mallards and white swans. There is a large clock tower that tolls on the half hour next to the coffee shop where we stopped for lunch. It looks like it would be a nice place to retire.
Despite the latter half of the day being entirely flat, our legs ached the same amount after fifteen miles of hiking. My theory is that walking fifteen miles every single day causes pain, I’m not a doctor though. The remaining trek through the knee-high cornfields to reach the hotels off US Route 11 were largely uneventful. We did, however, cross the PA Turnpike and had to pay $12 to walk over the bridge since I forgot to pack my EZPass. Once we made it to the hotel, we did our chores and went to Sheetz for a dinner date.
7/12 – Day 73
19.4 miles from Carlisle Quality Inn to Duncannon Assembly of God
I slept worse in the real bed at the hotel than I do on my sleeping pad. It certainly took some time, but my body has adjusted to the elements of nature that used to keep me awake and now they seem to comfort me. We carbed up on waffles from the free breakfast and set off. There were several miles of trail through the remainder of the farmland before we approached the next batch of mountains. Ominous dark clouds loomed over our heads and thunder echoed to the south, but fortunately the storm never hit us.
The hiking today felt like a chore. After the first climb, we went down the hill for five miles, then went back up to a gas line crossing with a decent view. Though it wasn’t terrible, the rocks were slowly becoming more and more regular and we found our pace slowing down ever so slightly. After a slog across the following ridge, we reached the edge at Hawk Rock with an unbelievable overview of the surrounding mountains and the town of Duncannon below. We took in what was likely the best look of PA thus far, and continued down a stone staircase of loose boulders into town.
The longest “road walk” we’ve done on trail was nearly three miles through Duncannon, PA. The town is hiker friendly, but appears to be in pretty rough shape overall. Most houses and businesses were dilapidated or on the verge of collapse. All of the restaurants were closed on the Tuesday evening, so we had nowhere to grab food and decided to walk through town to our fourth consecutive Sheetz. On the way there, Spout was stung by a bee on her right arm. Afterwards, we continued north on trail up the next mountain to find a stealth camping site. Unfortunately since it was dark, we had no success in finding a spot and were forced to walk an additional three mile round-trip back into town to pitch our tents at the Assembly of God Church, which offered free lodging for hikers. There were posted warnings of another norovirus outbreak at the church forcing it to close, but tenting in the yard was still open. At 11:00pm in a strange town, it was our only option.
7/13 – Day 74
0 miles
We grabbed coffee and french toast from an old diner called Goodies. Whew, did it hit the spot. When we came outside, we saw that the building directly next door was being demolished by a massive excavator! It was surprisingly intriguing to watch the jaws of the machine tear apart the rotting infrastructure like a giant dinosaur.
When we had seen enough, we went to the outfitter nearby and ran into Season Pass, who told us he wanted to come to Hersheypark with us the next day. We bought tickets and formulated a plan to stay at the Hershey Camping Resort the next two nights for our first double zero.
Spout’s Grandma Susan and her good friend Annie came to visit from State College in the afternoon. They scooped us up and suggested to drive towards Hershey get lunch since we needed to go that way anyway. Someone brought up Italian food and we found ourselves at a VFW Italian Lodge before much longer. Among the many retired folks enjoying their regular orders of fettuccine alfredo, Spout and I walked in smelling like two ripe pairs of underwear laying on the floor of a middle school locker room. It’s a blessing that grandmas love their grandchildren unconditionally. We had a tasty dinner of spaghetti and chicken parmigiano and got caught up with everything going on back home. After we ate, we went to an antique store and perused the various offerings before they drove us to the campground. Grandma left us with some delicious home cooked beef sandwiches and a grocery bag full of protein bars to pack out!
We reserved a primitive camping site at Hershey Camping Resort, which included showers, laundry, a camp store, a pool, and free shuttles to the park. In addition, we got to enter the park three hours before they closed the evening before and one early the next day. Pretty sweet deal. We met up with Season Pass, pitched our tents, and spent the evening in the park riding rollercoasters.
7/14 – Day 75
0 miles
We spent the whole day in Hersheypark riding as many rides as we could, swimming at the water park, walking around ZooAmerica, and drinking milkshakes at Chocolate World. Instead of recounting the details, I’ll list my favorites of every single rollercoaster in the park that we hit.
1. Candymonium – Their newest ride, visible from the entrance. It’s an outstanding hyper coaster, 200′ drop, high speed, and buttery smooth.
2. Skyrush – The most intense coaster I’ve ever ridden. So much airtime, it feels like you’re out of your seat more than in it. Spout blacked out on this one.
3. Great Bear – Inverted coaster that was best from the front row. Exciting, smooth inversions including a double barrel roll. Less intense but tons of fun, easy ride.
4. Storm Runner – Short and sweet launch coaster with 90 degree hill and a couple of inversions. Thrilling but I wish it was longer.
5. Jolly Rancher Remix – Rebranded boomerang coaster. Chain lift up a hill backwards that releases into a loop and double corkscrew, then another chain lift before repeating everything backwards.
We walked over 20,000 steps around the park, a new record for most walking on a zero day. The zoo was also fun, but it had only North American animals and it was weird seeing wildlife we recently saw on trail in a zoo. There were a few moments during the day, amidst the innocent joy of thrill rides, deep-fried oreos, and that amazing Lemon Drop lemonade they carry around the queues, when I had a rather sobering thought pop into my head: “What if we didn’t get back on trail?”
7/15 – Day 76
9.3 miles from Duncannon to Peters Mountain Shelter
Lately, everytime we get re-immersed in the real world for some period of time, it is hard to fathom why we would willingly go back to the AT. Long days with no mental breaks, waking up with achey joints, soaking wet socks, the realization that after two and a half months of grinding, we were just barely at the halfway mark. To be clear, this wasn’t a genuine consideration of quitting; it’s more of a “what if?”. It would be insane not to question what you are doing to yourself when every instinct in your body is screaming at you to stop. But as a thru-hiker whose goal is to finish the trail by any means necessary, it is scary to acknowledge these kinds of thoughts. They seem to be just another part of the challenge that must be overcome. Thru-hiking is almost entirely a mental game.
We made a disheartened resupply at the Weis Market up the road from the campground before a trail angel that Season Pass had met picked us up to drive us back to Duncannon. He dropped Spout and me off at the trail intersection on Route 22 at 11:45am. A train had parked directly in front of the trailhead and we were forced to walk the long way around the caboose. Then, we climbed the mountain that we had first tackled two nights ago in the dark. Now that our eyes worked, we could see the mighty Susquehanna River winding away from town deep in the valley below.
The trail stuck to the ridgeline for the remainder of the day. We hauled an extra two liters of water from the campground to account for the twelve mile dry stretch until Peters Mountain Shelter. After a few hours of hiking, we took a lunch break at Peters Mountain Road when a man named Magic Jim pulled up and said he was going to be doing trail magic at the shelter. Say no more, we told him, we’ll be there.
Happer had also caught up with us at this point after taking a couple of zeroes himself to deal with a back injury. We hiked with him to the shelter and met Magic Jim, Season Pass, Cowboy, Toothpick, and a few other hikers already set up nearby. Magic Jim asked us if we knew what mountain pies were. I nearly cried of happiness.
We helped him gather wood, start a fire, and prepare three full loaves of bread for mountain pies. Spout was the “sandwich artist” responsible for spreading mayo on one side of the bread, then adding pizza sauce, pepperoni, and cheese to the other. Magic Jim handled the cooking using two pie irons he packed out on his old, external frame backpack from the 80s. He was an exceptionally social person who told us about his growing fondness of trail culture, how he has been coming to cook mountain pies for thru-hikers almost every day for two months straight, and his plans to attempt a thru-hike of his own in 2023. He was an awesome dude with a kind heart.
The first pies began emerging from the coals and the shelter full of hungry hikers enjoyed delicious, gooey mountain pies all evening long. Magic Jim told us that the record for most pies eaten this season was seven, set a few nights ago by a skinny, eighteen-year-old hiker. Happer and I exchanged glances to one another, no doubt thinking about how we could easily top that. Lo and behold, while most other hikers had their fill at one or two pies, we each put away six before slowing down was even a consideration. The only thing standing in the way of a glutinous, binge eating shootout between the two of us, was that the bread was nearly depleted. We did the math and realized that it was impossible for both of us to break the record. I deferred the eighth and final pie to him, satisfied to stomach down number seven whilst Happer became the reigning pie king! Well played my friend.
The sun was already setting when realized we had gotten vortexed at a shelter after only hiking nine miles following a double zero. The truth was, however, we didn’t care. We got to spend the night with some of our closest trail friends while some amazing stranger cooked us dinner. The negative thoughts from the previous day had dissipated. It is becoming clear that you can’t enjoy the highs of the trail without the lows.
7/16 – Day 77
18.5 miles from Peters Mountain Shelter to Rausch Creek
Speaking of lows, it rained almost the entire day today. After hiking five miles across the ridge, the trail descended to a road crossing then shot straight back up. At the top, we stopped for a lunch break when the skies opened up. We ate while huddled under our ponchos, guarding our shoes from the rain though we knew it was futile. A half mile later, we were sloshing through the mud puddles that were accumulating in the cutout of the trail.
The rest of the day was an inner battle of accepting the wet, which proved much more difficult when navigating fields of loose rocks that were now as slick as ice. Spout struggled with keeping up her morale despite my best efforts to distract her with our new favorite trail game, where someone names a food and the other answers if they would smash or pass. Steak that was dropped in the dirt? Smash. Pizza with a packet of tuna as a topping? Pass. I don’t know, we can get pretty bored out here.
We stopped around 7:00pm, just as the rain was letting up. We hastily changed into our driest clothes, performed our routine tick check, and were in our tents sleeping two hours later.
7/17 – Day 78
22.6 miles from Rausch Creek to Hertline Campsite
Leaving camp, the trail intersected a blue blaze detour labeled “Dry AT Route”. Apparently, the original trail had a section flooded by a beaver dam, but we decided to chance it anyway. About fifty yards of trail were converted to swamp that required us to carefully balance on thin branches laid over the water and use our trekking poles as additional support to stay dry.
Moving right along, the trail dipped to its fourth overall crossing of i-81 at Swatara Gap. We happened to run into Spice Girl and Lady V just as they were getting back on trail after a night in town. They sped ahead once we took a second breakfast break and Spout and I decided to listen to music for the upcoming climb. The top of the ridge was a pattern of a mile or two of perfectly flat, mud-padded trail then half mile sections of dense rocks. So far, however, I would say that Rocksylvania is overhyped and it doesn’t deserve the bad rep.
After eight miles, I caught up to Happer and Season Pass taking lunch at the next campsite, Spout followed shortly behind. We read on FarOut that pizza could be delivered to the 501 road intersection in four miles and all agreed to chip in. We timed it perfctly to have it delivered as soon as we reached the parking lot, then walked a short distance to the shelter to eat. The pizza was mediocre at best. It was woefully underseasoned and had chewy crust that was difficult to tear off. In other words, it was the best meal any of us had ever eaten. The two large pies were deleted in minutes leaving us wanting more. During dessert, we had a group debate about the best Skittles flavors and whether or not they should have brought back the Lime flavor.
Spout and I decided to push on five more miles to the next campsite. We followed typical Pennsylvanian terrain through lush fields of ferns and towering oaks. Here, we passed mile marker 1,200 which was also significant because it meant we had fewer than 1,000 miles remaining on the trail! The last two miles of the day, however, were not fun and Spout nearly burned her daily cry by time we hobbled into camp at 9:00pm. The site was crowded but we found a flat spot next to a sketchy tent that was supposedly left abandoned with a full gear load-out within. Not wanting to unleash the evil spirits living inside, we pitched our tent next door and hoped it wasn’t haunted.
What’s next?
Will the rocks be as bad as the stories claim? Is there anything in New Jersey besides full-service gas stations? Next week, we will finish up the final chunk of Pennsylvania and be well on our way into the north.
Stay Dirty,
Candyman & Spout