|
July
18, 1983 Monday (967 mtg) From
Gonzo!s Appalachian Trail journal
Got
up this morning with the intension of hiking nine and a half miles
to the Pinnacle, which was mentioned in the guide as "a must
see, as it is the most worthwhile and scenic viewpoint along the
AT in Pennsylvania," where I intended to "dry camp"
at the area posted as "No Camping." From the moment we
woke up, we could tell that it would be a scorcher. We took our
time getting going, but up the side of Blue Mountain I went. After
a mere five miles the heat was getting intense and it seemed the
lazy days of summer had arrived. I pulled into Windsor Furnace Shelter
and waited for the rest of the bunch to arrive. Since we were set
to meet Mike the schoolteacher at Allentown shelter just 16 miles
away, I decided that this was as far as I needed to go today. Why
not stay at the "furnace shelter" and experience the full
heat of the summer. The rest of the hikers elected to do the same
thing. The deciding factor for Fuzzy Jim was when he discovered
on the map that he could walk down a nearby jeep road, hitch into
town and bring back some beer. I put in my order for some rootbeer.
Off he went. During the time that we had - all afternoon - Tim decided
to excavate the fire pit that was full of ash that had become mud
after the rain yesterday afternoon. He carefully removed most of
the ash, uncovering some rocks beneath, and built a nice circular
enclosed burning area with the help of a few of the other Pennsylvania
rocks lying around - all ready for the next campers that might need
a little fire for warmth. We certainly did not need any. Tim was
also a great fan of cooking his meals on an open fire. Most thru
hikers use some sort of stove, and I think he had one too, but liked
building fires. I typically only used a fire if I felt that I needed
to conserve gas. I carried a one liter aluminum fuel bottle and
tried to avoid filling it up too often since most stores only sold
gallon cans. Unless there were other hikers around needing fuel,
the rest would go to waste, or be left for the next hikers that
came by.
Fuzzy made it back from the store carrying sufficient beer to go
around, but no rootbeer! He claimed that he went to three different
places but no one had any. A & W can be difficult to find at
times. No big deal. Just after he returned, Two other hikers arrived.
Marcel, or "Rhode Island Red" as he was known, and Mark,
the hiker who had caught up to me at Duncannon. They decided to
stay also. The shelter was full, but the atmosphere was once again
jovial. Fuzzy started a new register at the shelter after finding
the old one had gotten full. Since he was the originator of the
register, he decided to make the rules a little different for this
one and listed the rules right up front: "this is a register
unlike any other, it is a register for writing "slick, sick,
shit." None of that regular stuff like how many miles you had
done, where you were headed, no self pity, etc." I would like
to have read it when it was finished.
I heard stories about Mark, and how fast he was hiking. I saw his
three inch diameter bundle of stick matches that he carried to start
his fires, and therefore don't doubt the story about how he was
hiking along one day when smoke began emerging from his pack. He
was streaking along the trail, bouncing so much it resulted in his
matches rubbing together and self igniting. If it was not true,
it is a good story. I do think that carrying matches like that was
not a good idea. One bic lighter was sufficient for me.
Gonzo!
Appalachian Trail Journals ©1983
|
