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July
9, 1983 Saturday (1155.1 mtg) From
Gonzo!s Appalachian Trail journal
I walked
down the road for just a bit before intersecting with the A.T. along
the banks of the Potomac River to which it ran parallel for a short
while before beginning the climb out of the river valley to the
crest of South Mountain in Maryland. Near the crest was a rocky
outcrop known as Weverton Cliffs which provided a good view back
along the Potomac to Harpers Ferry nestled between the junction
of the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers. The climb was not as bad as
I thought it would be based on the profile shown on the edge of
the map. That is the problem with the profiles, due to each map
having slightly different scales, anyone not paying attention to
this may be mislead concerning the elevation change.
Five miles farther along the ridge, I encountered a huge stone gateway
that marked the entrance to Gathland State Park. The park was a
memorial to Civil War news correspondents. While at the park I met
three other thru hikers. I had left Tom since he had been picked
up by a friend for a few days of rest and relaxation. The three
hikers at Gathland, Pete, Roger, and Vince were all headed to Maine
as I was. I did not stick around the park for long. From there I
boogied on seven miles to Dahlgren campground that featured a showerhouse
situated right beside the trail. I did not take a shower, although
I probably needed one, but figured what good would it do. As hot
as it was getting in the afternoons I would be saturated in sweat
within a few miles. I suppose I should have taken one; however,
since just a few tenths of a mile down the trail I stopped in at
the Old South Mountain Inn, a fancy establishment that had served
past dignitaries and presidents from as far back as the revolution,
many of the more recent ones had their photos on the wall as a remembrance.
The sign did say "Food and Drinks for All", or
was that "Food and Drinks for Al?" I had a crab sandwich,
fried potato slabs, and buttered crackers. I topped it all off with
red raspberry cobbler al a mode! While there, I met a man who knew
where Highland, Illinois, my hometown, was located. The reason he
knew was that he played the organ. He played the large organs like
the ones in churches that are built by Wicks Organ Company in Highland,
Illinois. The meal and service was excellent. They treated me as
if they did not notice the grizzly look and smell achieved by spending
almost two months on the trail. My bill came to $8.50.
Two miles farther up the trail I passed through Washington Monument
State Park. This was the first monument to George Washington. I
spent only enough time there to snap a picture and check the place
out before continuing on. Three miles farther on I crossed over
Interstate 70 on a footbridge just for hikers. I watched as the
cars went speeding along, wondering where they were all going. I
thought if I got a ride from one of the drivers heading west, I
might be able to ride all the way back home and be dropped off five
miles from my home. I thought that would not be a good idea. Life
here was good, what more could I ask for? My thoughts then turned
to spitting off the bridge onto unsuspecting cars…. I waved
and moved on.
My camp for the night was just beyond the interstate crossing. Actually
only four tenths of a mile past. Pine Knob Shelter was a bit too
close to the road. It was showing signs of abuse or heavy use, whatever
you want to call it. Several of the floorboards were missing. Enough
to make room for one more person if the boards were there. I was
surprised to find that Pete, Roger, and Vince were not there, but
Greg Gilbert and about three others were. Two of the three others
decided to move on, but John, a 33 year old Vietnam veteran, stayed
behind waiting for his friend Zack, who had taken a run to the store
nearby. John was a bizarre guy in my opinion; however, he did have
some interesting and useful points. He was the first one that I
had met that grew his own sprouts while he hiked. He carried his
own alfalfa seeds and grew them inside a small water bottle. Fresh
greens are always tasty on the trail. I inquired about how I could
become a seed grower, and he explained the process to me.
Eventually Zack returned from his hitch to town to get the "essentials"
which consisted of cigarettes and liquor. He also brought some food
items for John and himself. While transferring his macaroni into
a ziplock storage bag, the seal at the bottom gave way and the dried
pasta bounced all over the shelter! I did not eat dinner since I
had such a good and filling meal at the Old South Mountain Inn earlier,
and I also needed to conserve food during this stretch anyway. I
probably could have rounded up the stray pasta and had enough for
supper. John and Zak went up the trail a short distance and partied
with some other folks most of the night with "the essentials"
that they had purchased.
Gonzo!
Appalachian Trail Journals ©1983
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