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July
13, 1983 Wednesday (1067.9 mtg) From
Gonzo!s Appalachian Trail journal
This
morning I followed the blue-blazed trail back to the Appalachian
Trail from Moyer's Campground. I had almost twenty-three miles to
cover today, the last fifteen or so would be the infamous Cumberland
Valley roadwalk. The heat of the summer was not in my favor, although
I suppose it could have been worse. I guess I just needed a drink
to prepare myself for this when I arrived at Whiskey Springs a short
two miles down the trail. I "cameled" up at the spring
and set off again. In a few short miles I reached Welcome Hill,
and began the minor ascent before beginning the descent to Cumberland
Valley. The bridge over Yellow Breeches Creek signalled the beginning
of the long blacktop country road that would lead me across the
populated farming valley. There are a few good things about the
roadwalk such as the fact that there would be no hills to slow me
down. I should be able to get across the valley in well under six
hours. I would hopefully have to stop roughly half way through to
visit "the Ice Cream Lady" if she was at home. I noticed
some raspberries growing along the road as I began the first part
of the walk and stopped to pick a few to eat. Not too far from there
I came across one of the few shade trees along the roadway that
was known as "Halfway Sycamore." It is one of the largest
sycamore trees that I had ever seen, and the canopy provided much
needed shade from the afternoon sun. It is known as "Halfway
Sycamore" because at one time this tree was roughly the halfway
point along the entire Appalachian Trail. It is still close, but
I put the halfway point back at Pine Grove Furnace State Park according
to the data book this year.
I continued along the pavement, now beginning to really soften in
the suns rays. Eventually the heat waves glimmering off the black
pavement gave way to the little house that I was looking for. I
stepped off the road and ventured to the front door to see if anyone
was home. A pleasant young lady opened the door and told me to go
around to the back of the house and she would be out in a few minutes.
I went back and settled down in a chair under the little shaded
oasis provided by a patio umbrella under which I sat and received
my ice cold lemonade followed by what she was famous for: any hiker
stopping by and chatting for a while received a bowl of ice cream.
That was just what I needed after the first part of this blazing
hot road walk. She was interested in anything that I had to say,
and probably could have told stories she had heard from other hikers
for hours. She gave information to me about the upcoming trail in
the valley such as the grocery store a few miles farther along was
no longer in business. I could not stay long, the heat of the afternoon
was not getting any cooler. It was probably the hottest part of
the afternoon, but I went on my way after thanking her and photographing
the legendary "Ice Cream Lady."
My boots were sticking to the tar like I was walking on flypaper
as I trudged along the remaining section of the road walk. I took
the road walk around "Poison Ivy Creek" rather than attempting
the suspended cable crossing over the water. The poison ivy was
so thick there was no way to cross without touching it. I did not
want to get Poison Ivy at this time, and register entries had noted
that the two cables were covered at the ends with the poisonous
plants. The road was an acceptable alternative, and was much safer
in all respects; however, I would have liked to have tried the cable
crossing just to see if I could shimmy across with my feet on one
cable and holding on with my hands on the other just like in the
army. Yeah right! At the end of the road walk, before the final
ascent to Darlington Shelter on the side of Blue Mountain, I picked
up a gallon of water to haul to the shelter, where there was no
water. I spent the remainder of the afternoon lying around the shelter
in the blistering heat of summer. I was entertained by a register
entry left by a hiker whose trail name was "Fuzzy Jim."
He apparently had bought some Generic Cheerios at the last grocery
store and found them to be unpalatable. Fed up with inferior products,
he had tossed the remainder of the "O's" onto the floor
and indicated that he would never again buy imitation Cheerios.
Fuzzy Jim was also the author and artist who penned the comic strip
that showed up in virtually every trail shelter register along the
trail that kept many of us in good spirits, and yearning to find
out what adventures "Anglehead" would get into next. I
was gaining on him and possibly would catch him soon. Tomorrow would
be a short day of only eleven and a half miles into the town of
Duncannon, Pennsylvania.
Gonzo!
Appalachian Trail Journals ©1983
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