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July
15, 1983 Friday (1033.7 mtg) From
Gonzo!s Appalachian Trail journal
Today
marked the two-month anniversary of the start of my hike. I am over
half way to my goal, yet it still seems so far away. I was now in
Pennsylvania, known for its' legendary "Rock Monster,"
the one that eats your boots and cripples many hikers. The whole
section of trail in this state has a reputation of being one of
the nastiest parts of the Appalachian Trail. With this in the back
of my mind, and the prospect of the heat wave that seemed to be
settling in over us and drying up all the springs along the trail,
I was not looking forward to continuing. Regardless, this morning
I was up and ready to go - first stop, the post office to check
one last time for mail. I was disappointed to find, once again,
that there was no package for me. I gathered the letters and post
cards that I had written, and boxed up some unneeded stuff to be
sent home, and proceeded to send them off. Just as I was on my way
out, the postmaster caught my attention and handed me a package
that had just arrived and been sorted. It was a package from Dave
Szabo! I quickly wrote him a card, mailed it, and stepped out into
the morning heat. I attempted to refresh myself by buying a farewell
to Duncannon A & W Rootbeer, but had to settle for a Frostie
Rootbeer instead.
The trail first crossed the Juniata River on PA 849 and then the
Susquehanna River on the Clarks Ferry Bridge, turned right and began
the climb up Peters Mountain. I don't know who this Peter was, but
I know his mountain seemed to show up everywhere just like Brushy
Mountain in Virginia. The initial climb to the crest was the only
really bad part. Once I reached the crest the trail followed it
in a nearly straight line with little elevation change for many
miles according to the profile map. It was a hot, tough climb out
of the valley, and then seemed to become a jump from boulder to
boulder for a while. So much for the level easy grade along the
crest. I moved on to Earl Shaffer Shelter, which was only nine miles
out of Duncannon, where I had intended to spend the night. I met
many hikers there including Julie and Eric, and Claudia and Frank.
I figured I would need some water, so I began the journey to the
spring down a side trail near the shelter. The guide book says that
water is difficult to obtain at this shelter. They were not kidding,
I went down, down, down, over very rocky trail to find the spring
which surprisingly was a very good one. The climb up was just as
bad and I probably drank the majority of the water I gathered to
replace the water I lost in sweat.
I sat around in the heat until about three o'clock when it suddenly
hit me - there are too many people at this shelter! I packed up
my gear and took off hoping to make Rausch Gap Shelter this evening.
What was I thinking?! It was another 17 miles to that shelter, and
I was starting at 3 pm? That gave me roughly five hours to cover
those miles before darkness began to set in. I boogied and boogied.
I began by traversing the crest of Peters Mountain for the next
six miles. A nasty drop-off from that mountain of almost 1000 feet
brought me to the floor of Clark's Valley, where I crossed PA 325,
and then began the ascent up part of Stoney Mountain and further
on to follow the crest of Sharp Mountain for the remainder of the
day. I just hiked and hiked, with little to no stopping. I even
passed up a big rattlesnake on the trail near the Yellow Falls Village
site, but it seemed to ignore me as it slithered southward on the
trail and I continued north on my quest for Rausch Gap Shelter.
I couldn't take the time to stop and chat, I just said "Hi"
as I passed. I could sense the impending nightfall as the light
level began to dim. I had just under five miles to go. I arrived
at the Shelter, also known as "the Halfway Hilton" at
about 8:15 pm or so to find Fuzzy Jim, Pete Headon, Tim, Bruce,
a female hiker named Terry, and Mike a schoolteacher from Allentown
who was the only non-thru hiker of the bunch. Too tired to cook,
I ate granola and drank lots and lots of water. The shelter was
known as the Halfway Hilton since it was "roughly" halfway
to Katahdin from Georgia, and it sported a nice rock patio with
an aquaduct that brought the spring water right in front of the
shelter. A nice touch. The company brought a sense of joviality
to the place as there seemed to be continuous laughter while the
evening drew to a close. The night air did not provide much relief
from the afternoon heatwave, and despite wearing myself out on my
mad dash to the shelter, I slept little, mostly because the raccoons
on the rampage around the shelter looking for food kept me awake.
Twenty-six and seven tenths of a mile total for the day, plus a
tough trip to the spring at Shaffer shelter. Caught up with a fun
group of hikers. Mike, the local, had so much fun, he told us that
he would meet us at the Allentown Shelter in four days and bring
party supplies.
Gonzo!
Appalachian Trail Journals ©1983
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