7-29-12
Yesterday was an ok day. The shelter where I was in the morning was thick with mosquitoes. I later found out that it is notoriously mosquito rich. Walked about 5 miles, then came near a town and I needed some oatmeal and granola bars, and there was a deal advertised on a rock for all you can eat pizza with a soda, 6 bucks, I was sold. I ran into a Ridgerunner I met earlier and he had a truck nearby, so he dropped me off at the pizza place then ran a kid who was getting off the trail to a town 15 miles away. While eating, 5 guys came in and were asking about my hike, I asked if they’d hiked it, and 2 had. When I went to pay, the cashier said they already paid and I couldn’t even thank them because they had left already. That was really nice, I’m definitely going to try and do some stuff like that around trail towns sometime when I’m done. It really makes your day. Then I got some oatmeal at the store next door, and then bought myself and the Ridgerunner some Dairy Queen for running me around. As I started back on the trail with 15 miles left to go, it started pouring. A real frog strangler. Then as I noticed I was nearing the top of a mountain and the thunder and lightning were picking up, I broke into an opening with a fire tower. Great, right by a giant metal tower in a lightning storm. I skedaddled past that quickly, and was happy to be heading downhill soon. Then came my first wipeout. The tread on my shoes is nonexistent anymore thanks to PA rocks. So on a smooth rock, I somehow face planted, and it wasn’t fun.
A highlight though, I saw 2 bears that evening. I spooked a big one out of a hollow to my right, she was maybe 30 yards away at first, and then a cub followed after, both in a direction I approved of…away from me. They stopped to look around probably 60 yards away, but too far for a camera shot. So that was exciting.
Then as darkness was falling and I was expecting High Point shelter very soon, I stepped into a clearing, and this kid Sherbert I’ve been hiking with pointed to the sky ahead. I peered though the haze and fog and dusk to see what looked like the Washington Monument. A giant, tapered, pointed Obelisk was developing in front of me out of the churning fog. I couldn’t believe it. Never expected to see that. I guess it’s a monument marking Jersey’s highest elevation, pretty neat. Later found out it’s 200 feet tall; which is no slouch of a monument.
So not long later, we stumbled into a crowded shelter and although I was soggy and tired, I made some food, and then got settled in. The girl beside me had a snore like a growling bear, I’ve never heard a snore like that and I didn’t sleep well at all.
7-30-12
I woke up today with no defined goal but looked in the guide and saw a church that offered its roof, laundry, shower, and the internet, so I set my sights on that 19 trail miles away, and then 2.4 road miles. The weather cleared and the trail was great, very few rocks. After 5 miles, I stopped at “The Secret Shelter” a cool place owned by a thru-hiker from 89’, Shooter. He bought 85 acres and built a shelter for hikers, it’s just not advertised as an official shelter, but it’s in the guide book. So that was a nice visit, we mainly talked about photography. Then I proceeded, I ran into Tom & Jerry and Sanchez, I think was his name, at an overlook and Jerry, Tom’s girlfriend, pointed to the mountain on the horizon, and what do you think I saw but that monument, only it looked so tiny from so far away. I couldn’t believe how far I walked in a day. That was cool. Then the other big highlight was walking more than half a mile on a boardwalk over a swamp. There was also a wooden suspension bridge over a river. The sun was getting low and it was a great evening of hiking. I definitely plan on hiking the NJ section again. Its only main problem,which can happen to any state, is that the mosquitoes are numerous and tenacious. I lost my bug net head cover in PA too, and it was my favorite piece of equipment when I needed it. I need to get a new one soon. Well, I’m tired, 8 more miles of Jersey I think, maybe 10. It’s been fun.
Oh, one more incident that’s kinda funny looking back. I stubbed my toe on a rock at the base of a hill, right on my sore toe with the ingrown toenail, and man it smarted. My dad jokes that sometimes when I get mad, I sound like Yosemite Sam from the Looney Toons. And here I did. I couldn’t help but loudly curse that rock that caused me that prodigious pain by obnoxiously, angrily, loudly, growling at it; and through the woods echoed my voice. After flogging some nearby weeds with my trekking poles, I hoped no one was nearby, but not 2 seconds later, a young guy was coming down the hill. As he got closer, I noticed he was a Ridgerunner probably not over 22 and his eyes were wide and straight ahead. He looked a scared Cubscout. I think he was afraid to pass me because I sounded quite angry and disturbed just moments earlier. I asked him how he was, and got a quick “Good” and as I tried to explain my stubbed toe, he was gone. He picked up some speed I think after he passed me, not in the mood for small talk. But I guess I couldn’t blame him.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Monday, August 27, 2012
7-27-12
7-27-12
Why New Jersey is Better than Pennsylvania (To Hike In)
Today I finally crossed into New Jersey. I’ve put the rocks
and monotony of PA behind me. For miles I envisioned the transition. I imagined
it to be similar to when you’re riding in a car on a multi-state trip, and you
go from a state with notoriously bad roads, say for instance, I don’t know, PA,
and you drive into a state with good roads. The change is instant. You can go
from 2 lanes of potholes, to 6 lanes of smooth, fresh, well engineered roads.
As far as the trail goes I was thinking I’d step from rock strewn, poison ivy
lined misery in PA, to moss carpeted, wild strawberry lined bliss in Jersey.
Well here’s how it really was, I stepped off the noisy I-80 bridge after
crossing the Delaware River onto asphalt. Don’t let that disappoint you though,
soon the road led to the Kittatinny Visitor Center which seemed nice, then
crossed under I-80 and then started up alongside a creek that was home to native
brook trout; a clean, cool, pleasant stream.
As I walk I see a man with an easel painting with water colors. How
nice. I paralleled the stream, admiring
how it cascades into clear, inviting pools. At the top of the climb, on a
mountain, mind you, I came to Sunfish Pond, a 41 acre Glacial Lake, what?!
There were no lakes, let alone on a mountaintop in PA. Score 1 for Jersey. No,
2, there weren’t any water color artists either. Then the woods open up and I
walk on smooth rock, with panoramic views on BOTH sides, on a ridge, and I can
walk and enjoy the view at the same time because I’m not tripping over small
rocks. Plus, to get a view I don’t have to take a blue blaze trail that has
only a 10 foot window in the foliage. Another point for Jersey; panoramic
views. Then I came to another mountain top lake covered with blooming lily pads
and a few beaver huts, another plus. Then I had some bear action.
I was told
before that NJ has many bears. So I’m walking along and these 2 SOBO guys say
to me, “Hey, just letting you know, in about 200 feet there are 4 bears.”
I was like, “Uhhhh….”
“Yeah, they’re just over this crest here below the tra…”
Probably a 3 inch branch cracks in half from the direction they’re talking
about. “There, did you hear that? That was one of them.”
“Uhhhh…” I’m trying to come up with something intelligent to
say. “Well did they seem aggressive?” I ask.
“There were 2 cubs and a mama. And then we saw another one
too.” ‘How does that answer my question?’ I wonder silently. “Anyway, at the end of this
gravel road there’s a hand pump for water when you get there.”
“If I get there.” I say. They laughed and said I’d be fine,
and we both started walking our separate directions. Well I should say they
walked, and I tiptoed. Knife clenched in my teeth, camera in left hand,
trekking pole ready to fly as a spear in my right. Actually, I’m kidding about
the spear, I couldn’t even get it to stick in a hay bale in PA, it’s not going
into a charging bear. But I did walk gingerly for the next quarter mile, every
sense alert. I faintly heard some snapping down below, but it seemed the bears
moved on. I was actually a little disappointed, I do want to see some bears,
although 4 would have been quite enough at once.
So bear excitement, another plus for New Jersey. And another
plus, now that I’m not watching every next footstep, I can look around. What a
novel idea! I saw a doe, and twin fawns, still in their spots. They were pretty
relaxed, even with me being close to them, then later another doe and fawn,
again, relaxed. The deer I saw in PA were
always bolting off, except for maybe one time.
It just has some great terrain changes here. Once I saw this
craggy rock outcropping maybe 60ft tall and I was thinking it would be great to
climb that, then I soon saw white blazes going up it and I was very pleased. In
PA, you walk across flat ridges, with few decent views, descend at the gaps
into a town, then climb right back up again to another ridge and hike on that
for 30 miles. One after the other. I hate to complain, but it got old after 230
miles. The farm country was the most redeeming part for PA I think, and a few
great towns. So, if you didn’t pick up on it, I’m happy to be in Jersey. It was
a good day.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
7-25-2012 ...A day in Roseto.
It's around 3:00 p.m. and I'm sitting on the front steps of Ruggiero's Market in the town of Roseto, PA, about 3 miles away from the trail. I just got to town and met Kevin, Jack and Pam, I told them about why I'm visiting and they gave me a ride to this market in the back of Kevin's truck. He gave me 5 jalapeno peppers too.
Although this town is out of my way, I knew I had to try to get here. I read about Roseto in a book by Malcolm Gladwell called 'Outliers'.
Back in the early 1960's a physician named Stewart Wolf discovered that people in this town were living well beyond the national average life expectancy. Wolf and his team conducted medical experiments and researched the towns medical records extensively trying to figure out why people were living so much longer than the average American. They found that it wasn't genetics or good eastern PA water or other physical variables that made Rosetans live long, but it was their Italian culture, still so present that kept them going. Three generations living under one roof, people always visiting with each other, nobody trying to get ahead of his neighbor, just a low stress lifestyle was what they concluded, explained their longevity.
This town was founded by and almost whooly comprised of emigrants from the city of Roseto in the Foccia region in Southern Italy. If you read the intro to 'Outliers' on Amazon.com you'll more clearly understand why it intrigued me.
Anyway, they're celebrating their Cent' Anni tonight and the rest of this week and I'm tempted to stay. I really didn't want to linger in PA, but I'm only 8 trail miles away from New Jersey. 'Should I stay or should I go now?' This is kind of like the time we ended up in Louisville on a whim, and looking for something to do asked the girl at Walgreen's, where I was buying shoelaces because my tent was being held up by my current ones, if anything was going on in town and she informed us that Louisville's most popular picnic was going on. I had a great time that night so maybe I should stay. Finding a place to sleep would be the next dilemna. I'm actually in the cemetary now in the shadow of Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church (same name as the one in the original Roseto) Are living people allowed to sleep in cemetaries? There is a spigot here, just like in the woods I try to base my camp around water.
It'd be nice to meet some people, I hitchhiked here and the lady who picked me up, Sheri, said I could shower and eat at her house. I declined awkwardly and I think she thought I thought the wrong thing, She said her husband and 2 kids were at home too. It was nice of her to offer but I wanted to get on with my day and also eat in Roseto, plus I just recently showered only 4 days ago, sooo...
I'll be honest with you, here was what I was expecting to see when I got to this town. I was hoping the asphalt would turn to cobblestone once it hit Garibaldi Avenue and there'd be some old, heavy set Italian woman doing laundy by hand on the sidewalk. She scolds a group of young kids getting into mischief and they listen because they know she'll tell their moms. Then I was hoping to look across the street through a large window to see Sal, of Salvatore's Bakery taking fresh bread from a giant stone oven, with a big, wide smile on his face, shadowed by a giant white mustache. He smiles as if it's his first perfect loaf of bread ever, although it's probably his ten-thousandth perfect loaf. His door jingles and in walks a 12 year old Marco with money and orders from his mother to get 2 fresh loaves for supper because her parents are visiting. "Ah, young Marco!" Sal exclaims in a heavy Italian accent, "Whata can I do for you?" His hands fly through the air in wide gestures. "Two loaves please Sal." He sets the exact amount on the smooth counter. "Coming right up." Sal fluidly wraps the bread and hands it to Marco with a parting comment as he leaves. "And remember..." his words hang melodically in the air for a moment, "Straighta home and don'ta eat any on the way. For your mother will..." he slides his finger across his neck making a funny noise. Marco laughs and heads out, the door jangles behind him. All of a sudden he traps a soccer ball that flies at him from out of nowhere. Some other kids have a game going on in the street. He takes off dribbling while somehow managing the loaves; he dissects the defense of the better team and drains a goal for the younger underdog team. They go crazy running around chanting Marco's name as he heads home. He didn't even break a sweat.
So that was a nice scene I think. This is a great town. Next, as I'm walking around for a deli or something, an ancient lady on a porch yells at me. "How far have you walked?" I tell her about 275 miles. She narrows her eyes to slits, seeing if I waver from my bold statement. I don't. So her face softens again and she says, "Come, come, lunch is almost ready." As I follow her inside the air is thick with the smell of Italian heaven. "My grand-daughter, Giada, she's veesiting for the week and a preety good cook. On TV show, Food Network or something I think, I don't know, she preety good though." As we almost enter the kitchen she stops, spins, and eyes me with one finger in the air."Not as good as me!...." She affirms; then softens again. "But she's preety good."
So we enter the kitchen and who else is in there but Giada from 'Everyday Italian'. I'm speechless of course. She smiles at me but I'm too busy staring right at her perfectly shaped and proportionate...ciabattas; that she just pulled from the oven.
We have a great meal and I can't believe my luck. It's good I came to Roseto.
So, as you can see, I've kinda built this town up in the miles leading to it. The festivities to my left are starting to warm up as I sit here in the cemetary. I guess I'm staying. If I was heading on I wanted to be on the trail by 5. It's 5 til 5. Oh well, might be fun. Music is playing too and I really miss music. I'm going to roam around.....(time elapses)
My roaming around got me right now on a very nice front stoop with wrought iron railing, flagstone deck, brick pillars, cast iron seating, nice flowers and vines and a beautiful elm tree shading it all. Ralph invited me to sit and talk, intrigued I think with my back pack. It's a good ice breaker. Soon I was sitting down chatting with a cold bottle of water. In a little bit his neighbor came out and was called over. "Hey J!, come get a load of this guy!" In not too long a time there were 6 or 7 people hanging out and just talking, J was a kinda hyper active 40 something guy still living with his mom and he couldn't sit still. At one point he was over riffing on his non-amped electric guitar, on his porch. That lasted 2 mins, then he was getting me some info on where to stop at the next town. "
"HEY MAAaa!!.....MAAAA!!!" he yelled into the open door. "What's the name of that church in Delaware Water Gap!?!""
It was funny. I appreciated and took his advice.
So again, we all chatted on the porch, some were on the sidewalk. An older Italian lady was telling me how the town used to be; about all the shops and deli's and restaurants and all. She was just out of high school when they did the health studies on the town. As I listened, and munched on a home-made italian biscuit made by Ralph, I realized I was experiencing exactly what I had hoped for, and what made Roseto famous back then; just simple community fellowship.
After an hour or so I was ready to head up to the festival. The local Catholic HS had pasta fizoli or a spaghetti dish you could dine in the closed of street. While eating and telling the waitress what I was up to, a guy nearby overheard us talking and as I was leaving he wondered if I needed anything. Here was my chance to get a ride back to the mountain.
He said he could and we agreed to meet by the cemetary after he got his Jeep and I filled my water bottles. While I was waiting for him I asked a guy if I could charge my phone on his porch. Gordon was happy to let me do that and we made small talk about the festival and his upside-down tomato plants. Then Mark came by and I thanked Gordon, forgot my chocolate cake though, my dessert from the meal, but left for the mountain with a full stomach, water bottles, phone, and spirit. There was a shelter just a mile away and I was glad to be up there as opposed to sleeping in the town cemetary. I thanked Mark for his generosity of course, and headed North again with a very nice experience in Roseto to always remember. It was a good day.
It's around 3:00 p.m. and I'm sitting on the front steps of Ruggiero's Market in the town of Roseto, PA, about 3 miles away from the trail. I just got to town and met Kevin, Jack and Pam, I told them about why I'm visiting and they gave me a ride to this market in the back of Kevin's truck. He gave me 5 jalapeno peppers too.
Although this town is out of my way, I knew I had to try to get here. I read about Roseto in a book by Malcolm Gladwell called 'Outliers'.
Back in the early 1960's a physician named Stewart Wolf discovered that people in this town were living well beyond the national average life expectancy. Wolf and his team conducted medical experiments and researched the towns medical records extensively trying to figure out why people were living so much longer than the average American. They found that it wasn't genetics or good eastern PA water or other physical variables that made Rosetans live long, but it was their Italian culture, still so present that kept them going. Three generations living under one roof, people always visiting with each other, nobody trying to get ahead of his neighbor, just a low stress lifestyle was what they concluded, explained their longevity.
This town was founded by and almost whooly comprised of emigrants from the city of Roseto in the Foccia region in Southern Italy. If you read the intro to 'Outliers' on Amazon.com you'll more clearly understand why it intrigued me.
Anyway, they're celebrating their Cent' Anni tonight and the rest of this week and I'm tempted to stay. I really didn't want to linger in PA, but I'm only 8 trail miles away from New Jersey. 'Should I stay or should I go now?' This is kind of like the time we ended up in Louisville on a whim, and looking for something to do asked the girl at Walgreen's, where I was buying shoelaces because my tent was being held up by my current ones, if anything was going on in town and she informed us that Louisville's most popular picnic was going on. I had a great time that night so maybe I should stay. Finding a place to sleep would be the next dilemna. I'm actually in the cemetary now in the shadow of Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church (same name as the one in the original Roseto) Are living people allowed to sleep in cemetaries? There is a spigot here, just like in the woods I try to base my camp around water.
It'd be nice to meet some people, I hitchhiked here and the lady who picked me up, Sheri, said I could shower and eat at her house. I declined awkwardly and I think she thought I thought the wrong thing, She said her husband and 2 kids were at home too. It was nice of her to offer but I wanted to get on with my day and also eat in Roseto, plus I just recently showered only 4 days ago, sooo...
I'll be honest with you, here was what I was expecting to see when I got to this town. I was hoping the asphalt would turn to cobblestone once it hit Garibaldi Avenue and there'd be some old, heavy set Italian woman doing laundy by hand on the sidewalk. She scolds a group of young kids getting into mischief and they listen because they know she'll tell their moms. Then I was hoping to look across the street through a large window to see Sal, of Salvatore's Bakery taking fresh bread from a giant stone oven, with a big, wide smile on his face, shadowed by a giant white mustache. He smiles as if it's his first perfect loaf of bread ever, although it's probably his ten-thousandth perfect loaf. His door jingles and in walks a 12 year old Marco with money and orders from his mother to get 2 fresh loaves for supper because her parents are visiting. "Ah, young Marco!" Sal exclaims in a heavy Italian accent, "Whata can I do for you?" His hands fly through the air in wide gestures. "Two loaves please Sal." He sets the exact amount on the smooth counter. "Coming right up." Sal fluidly wraps the bread and hands it to Marco with a parting comment as he leaves. "And remember..." his words hang melodically in the air for a moment, "Straighta home and don'ta eat any on the way. For your mother will..." he slides his finger across his neck making a funny noise. Marco laughs and heads out, the door jangles behind him. All of a sudden he traps a soccer ball that flies at him from out of nowhere. Some other kids have a game going on in the street. He takes off dribbling while somehow managing the loaves; he dissects the defense of the better team and drains a goal for the younger underdog team. They go crazy running around chanting Marco's name as he heads home. He didn't even break a sweat.
So that was a nice scene I think. This is a great town. Next, as I'm walking around for a deli or something, an ancient lady on a porch yells at me. "How far have you walked?" I tell her about 275 miles. She narrows her eyes to slits, seeing if I waver from my bold statement. I don't. So her face softens again and she says, "Come, come, lunch is almost ready." As I follow her inside the air is thick with the smell of Italian heaven. "My grand-daughter, Giada, she's veesiting for the week and a preety good cook. On TV show, Food Network or something I think, I don't know, she preety good though." As we almost enter the kitchen she stops, spins, and eyes me with one finger in the air."Not as good as me!...." She affirms; then softens again. "But she's preety good."
So we enter the kitchen and who else is in there but Giada from 'Everyday Italian'. I'm speechless of course. She smiles at me but I'm too busy staring right at her perfectly shaped and proportionate...ciabattas; that she just pulled from the oven.
We have a great meal and I can't believe my luck. It's good I came to Roseto.
So, as you can see, I've kinda built this town up in the miles leading to it. The festivities to my left are starting to warm up as I sit here in the cemetary. I guess I'm staying. If I was heading on I wanted to be on the trail by 5. It's 5 til 5. Oh well, might be fun. Music is playing too and I really miss music. I'm going to roam around.....(time elapses)
My roaming around got me right now on a very nice front stoop with wrought iron railing, flagstone deck, brick pillars, cast iron seating, nice flowers and vines and a beautiful elm tree shading it all. Ralph invited me to sit and talk, intrigued I think with my back pack. It's a good ice breaker. Soon I was sitting down chatting with a cold bottle of water. In a little bit his neighbor came out and was called over. "Hey J!, come get a load of this guy!" In not too long a time there were 6 or 7 people hanging out and just talking, J was a kinda hyper active 40 something guy still living with his mom and he couldn't sit still. At one point he was over riffing on his non-amped electric guitar, on his porch. That lasted 2 mins, then he was getting me some info on where to stop at the next town. "
"HEY MAAaa!!.....MAAAA!!!" he yelled into the open door. "What's the name of that church in Delaware Water Gap!?!""
It was funny. I appreciated and took his advice.
So again, we all chatted on the porch, some were on the sidewalk. An older Italian lady was telling me how the town used to be; about all the shops and deli's and restaurants and all. She was just out of high school when they did the health studies on the town. As I listened, and munched on a home-made italian biscuit made by Ralph, I realized I was experiencing exactly what I had hoped for, and what made Roseto famous back then; just simple community fellowship.
After an hour or so I was ready to head up to the festival. The local Catholic HS had pasta fizoli or a spaghetti dish you could dine in the closed of street. While eating and telling the waitress what I was up to, a guy nearby overheard us talking and as I was leaving he wondered if I needed anything. Here was my chance to get a ride back to the mountain.
He said he could and we agreed to meet by the cemetary after he got his Jeep and I filled my water bottles. While I was waiting for him I asked a guy if I could charge my phone on his porch. Gordon was happy to let me do that and we made small talk about the festival and his upside-down tomato plants. Then Mark came by and I thanked Gordon, forgot my chocolate cake though, my dessert from the meal, but left for the mountain with a full stomach, water bottles, phone, and spirit. There was a shelter just a mile away and I was glad to be up there as opposed to sleeping in the town cemetary. I thanked Mark for his generosity of course, and headed North again with a very nice experience in Roseto to always remember. It was a good day.
...On My Journey to Palmerton.
So soon after the delicious dumpling. I started walking,. Took the wrong turn, got lost, then found my way again. It was a nice afternoon around 3 and I was just getting this nice feeling that it was so pleasant just to be hiking. I began to kick around trying to make it to the hostel by 10 o'clock, the time you have to be there to get in. I did the math and realized if I hustled I could make it. I decided to try. And that decision alone got me going, I was thinking I was crazy. It would be a 27 mile day or around there. I started walking faster, almost jogged for awhile, then speed walked, then jogged some more. My feet didn't hurt when I was doing this. Then came some big rocks where lots of people were hanging out, It was afterall a Saturday evening and people were out day hiking. I was just buzzing by them skipping over rocks quite fluidly. I blew past this teenage couple looking like they were up to no good on a Lovers Leap type spot, they turned as they heard me zip by behind them but I doubt they saw but a blur, I was gone in a flash. I wanted to yell in a parental tone "You kids behave yourselves!" but decided not to. So I kept this pace up for awhile, got this little saying in my head, "Hiking today? I am not done, I'm pushing on down into Palmerton." I don't know why but I kept thinking it and it was fun. So I finally started the descent into the valley soon after I caught some breathtaking sunset views. Darkness then fell and I had to use my headlamp to negotiate the rocks. I got to the bottom with now very sore feet and legs. Whatever was making the evening hike thus far painless was wearing off quickly. I had a dull pain rising up the middle of my legs from my arches. There was supposedly a blue blaze trail into town but I couldn't find it, I couldn't even find the A.T, but there was a sign for cars pointing to Palmerton so I decided to go via the road. Well it was crazy busy and I had cars rushing by 4 feet from me, walking with tired legs I clung my left arm to the guard rail as I walked not wanting to collapse for some reason into traffic. Sounds weak but I wasn't taking chances, So I jumped on some paralleling railroad tracks and walked on them. Well it was about 20 til 10 when I saw a sign that said Palmerton exit 1/4 mile. I hopped back on the road and started hustling, with my headlamp strobe going so I could be seen. Then finally the town came into view, 10 mins til 10, but there was a gas station and I could really use a chocolate milk, so I made the time. Spilled it all over myself as I hurried down the street past the nice park, over the smashed squirrel on the sidewalk, ah, and finally, to the building with police cars, my building. I looked at my phone, 9:59, even more climactic than the 9:55 I was thinking I might make it by earlier that day. So I hobbled up the steps. Knocked. Nothing. Read the sign. 'Please use side entrance' I hustled over, still 9:59! Climbed the steps, knocked. Ah, I made it just in time! Great story right? Wrong. I got no answer. No one came. I went down to the darkened street, now mins after 10 and didn't know what to do. So I asked some joggers and they said I needed the borough building down the way a bit, 2 blocks, this was the municipal building. Well I figured I was too late but I'd try. So I went down. Summited another set of steps, knocked. Nothing again, I was getting tired of this. Called the numbers posted for after hours hikers and got nobody. So I sat on the bench ready to fall asleep right there when a guy walked by. I recognized his hat and his limp. He was Backtrack, he was in the shelter I was in the previous night. How did he do 27 miles that day? Then I realized he slackpacked. He was going back to get his cell phone at a restaurant. His trail name made sense to me. So I asked about the hostel and he's like, "Oh yeah, just go around the side and down the steps, they're not really picky, there's plenty of room." So the whole 10:00 thing wasn't a big deal? I didn't care, I was glad to be there. I went into the basement and saw Red Wolf. He said, "Man, did you just get off the mountain?" and I gave a weary "Yeah" and he was like,"Man you are EPIC!" I smiled. They're all part of a group that slackpacks, which means they get their packs hauled ahead a certain amount of miles via a car, and then can walk without packs. Easy peasy. So I enjoyed my non-slackpacking epic-ness as I found a bunk, I was hoping for a mattress but only got one of those chainlink springs with a piece of plywood on it. Oh well I laid down and it was great. My legs felt like they were asleep and that dull pain was up the middle of them. That didn't seem right but I wasn't too worried, I planned on taking the next day off to rest. And I did. And it was nice. And that's my 110 miles in 5 days, I only missed my goal by a couple hours and that made me happy.
So soon after the delicious dumpling. I started walking,. Took the wrong turn, got lost, then found my way again. It was a nice afternoon around 3 and I was just getting this nice feeling that it was so pleasant just to be hiking. I began to kick around trying to make it to the hostel by 10 o'clock, the time you have to be there to get in. I did the math and realized if I hustled I could make it. I decided to try. And that decision alone got me going, I was thinking I was crazy. It would be a 27 mile day or around there. I started walking faster, almost jogged for awhile, then speed walked, then jogged some more. My feet didn't hurt when I was doing this. Then came some big rocks where lots of people were hanging out, It was afterall a Saturday evening and people were out day hiking. I was just buzzing by them skipping over rocks quite fluidly. I blew past this teenage couple looking like they were up to no good on a Lovers Leap type spot, they turned as they heard me zip by behind them but I doubt they saw but a blur, I was gone in a flash. I wanted to yell in a parental tone "You kids behave yourselves!" but decided not to. So I kept this pace up for awhile, got this little saying in my head, "Hiking today? I am not done, I'm pushing on down into Palmerton." I don't know why but I kept thinking it and it was fun. So I finally started the descent into the valley soon after I caught some breathtaking sunset views. Darkness then fell and I had to use my headlamp to negotiate the rocks. I got to the bottom with now very sore feet and legs. Whatever was making the evening hike thus far painless was wearing off quickly. I had a dull pain rising up the middle of my legs from my arches. There was supposedly a blue blaze trail into town but I couldn't find it, I couldn't even find the A.T, but there was a sign for cars pointing to Palmerton so I decided to go via the road. Well it was crazy busy and I had cars rushing by 4 feet from me, walking with tired legs I clung my left arm to the guard rail as I walked not wanting to collapse for some reason into traffic. Sounds weak but I wasn't taking chances, So I jumped on some paralleling railroad tracks and walked on them. Well it was about 20 til 10 when I saw a sign that said Palmerton exit 1/4 mile. I hopped back on the road and started hustling, with my headlamp strobe going so I could be seen. Then finally the town came into view, 10 mins til 10, but there was a gas station and I could really use a chocolate milk, so I made the time. Spilled it all over myself as I hurried down the street past the nice park, over the smashed squirrel on the sidewalk, ah, and finally, to the building with police cars, my building. I looked at my phone, 9:59, even more climactic than the 9:55 I was thinking I might make it by earlier that day. So I hobbled up the steps. Knocked. Nothing. Read the sign. 'Please use side entrance' I hustled over, still 9:59! Climbed the steps, knocked. Ah, I made it just in time! Great story right? Wrong. I got no answer. No one came. I went down to the darkened street, now mins after 10 and didn't know what to do. So I asked some joggers and they said I needed the borough building down the way a bit, 2 blocks, this was the municipal building. Well I figured I was too late but I'd try. So I went down. Summited another set of steps, knocked. Nothing again, I was getting tired of this. Called the numbers posted for after hours hikers and got nobody. So I sat on the bench ready to fall asleep right there when a guy walked by. I recognized his hat and his limp. He was Backtrack, he was in the shelter I was in the previous night. How did he do 27 miles that day? Then I realized he slackpacked. He was going back to get his cell phone at a restaurant. His trail name made sense to me. So I asked about the hostel and he's like, "Oh yeah, just go around the side and down the steps, they're not really picky, there's plenty of room." So the whole 10:00 thing wasn't a big deal? I didn't care, I was glad to be there. I went into the basement and saw Red Wolf. He said, "Man, did you just get off the mountain?" and I gave a weary "Yeah" and he was like,"Man you are EPIC!" I smiled. They're all part of a group that slackpacks, which means they get their packs hauled ahead a certain amount of miles via a car, and then can walk without packs. Easy peasy. So I enjoyed my non-slackpacking epic-ness as I found a bunk, I was hoping for a mattress but only got one of those chainlink springs with a piece of plywood on it. Oh well I laid down and it was great. My legs felt like they were asleep and that dull pain was up the middle of them. That didn't seem right but I wasn't too worried, I planned on taking the next day off to rest. And I did. And it was nice. And that's my 110 miles in 5 days, I only missed my goal by a couple hours and that made me happy.
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