Playing in Pennsylvania

Hello, Pennsylvania.  I didn’t see you there.  You kind of slunk in the back and showed up one day, with a sly smile and a quiet demeanor.  I wasn’t expecting you so quickly; having spent nearly a month and a half in Virginia, my short time through West Virginia and Maryland seemed to be over abruptly and all of a sudden I found myself within your rocky boundaries.  And yes, I think the phrase ‘rocky boundaries’ is appropriate, Pennsylvania, because you do have rocks.  You and I both know that you’ve got a terrible reputation regarding those rocks-  I’ve heard thru-hikers joke about how the Pennsylvania residents come out in the off season and sharpen them.  I’ve also seen multiple shelter log entries say things like “Well, I never expected to get this far, so I’m calling it quits here in PA before it gets bad,” or, “I’ve just about had it with these damn rocks,” or “My body can do the miles, but I wish my feet would get on board.  OUCH!” (Full disclosure: I wrote that last entry.)  People are quitting, Pennsylvania, and I know some of them are blaming you.

This is the trail, in PA.  It goes over these loose and tippy rocks.

But I’m getting ahead of myself here…

I was sitting in Boiling Springs, PA, at the Allenberry Resort and Playhouse, with my hiking partner Frodo.  We had come into Boiling Springs that morning early, gotten a room (with a significant discount for thru-hikers), and were feeling a little overwhelmed by staying in the lap of luxury (hot tub, swimming pool, tennis courts, restaurants, and a theater all on the premises).  We were in the theater, at intermission from a production of ‘Hello, Dolly!’ when Frodo turned to me and said, “AWOL was hiking too fast to write about this in his book, and Bill Bryson was going too slow to have seen this.  And honestly, neither of them could have described this moment.” And he was right; how does one adequately express how delightfully odd it was to be in the middle of a theater, wearing semi-dirty clothing, surrounded by well dressed senior citizens, watching a play where the only goal the main character has is to get married (why Hello, character motivation that I don't understand AT ALL!), along with the sensation of being EXACTLY where one wants to be? 

The following day Frodo and I booked it 25 miles to get to the Doyle, in Duncannon, which was just about the exact opposite of the Allenberry.  The old hotel was four stories tall, with a bar and an excellent restaurant on the bottom floor.  The top two floors were for lodging, both, it seemed, for permanent residents and for thru hikers.  The Doyle is legendarily hiker friendly, and just about as close to a trail institution as you can get.  On the upper levels, however, the windowsills were rotting, the sheets on the bed were torn (and the comforter was located, bafflingly enough, on the floor of the closet), there was no screen in any of the windows, I found what appeared to be dog food under my bed (but I didn’t look closely), and the shower was one where shower shoes were not optional.  (Speaking of showers, the third floor shower leaked directly onto the second floor shower, which was a rather unpleasant and distressing discovery.) 

 The main entrance to the Doyle.  Off to the right is the Ladies Entrance, 

which does not immediately dump you into the bar.  (Guess they weren't really

thinking about thru-hiking ladies when they designed the hotel...)

The fourth floor (which was called the third floor for reasons unknown to me).  

The photo is a bit brighter than the reality, which looked and felt like a place where 

you'd wake up in a horror movie involving axe murderers and maze like hallways.

Two days later Frodo and I found ourselves in Port Clinton, taking a day off, waiting for the local Enterprise dealer to show up with a car for us to rent.  While entering the Post Office, we were invited to the local barbershop, where Frank, the proprietor, set out cookies and coffee for guests and thru-hikers.  We ended up spending about an hour and a half there, chatting with him, his customers, and the accordion player who was providing background music.  It was wonderful and completely odd and random (I mean, when was the last time YOU hung out in a barbershop for an hour and a half and didn't get a haircut?).  From there we picked up three additional thru-hikers, and had a lovely day and evening at the Yuengling Brewery, the town of Hershey, Amish country, and the Blue Ball Bowling Lanes.

 Yuengling Brewery is about to be entirely women owned! 

I realize I’ve spent the past three paragraphs talking about my off-trail adventures, Pennsylvania, so let me quickly discuss the ones I’ve had on the AT.  First and foremost, you’ve been flat, either through level farmland or on the high ridges.  Both areas have been periodically rocky, but with the rocks have come the most amazing snakes.  I’ve been waiting my whole trip, a good 1,200 miles so far, to see a rattlesnake, and much to my delight, I saw two in one day.  When added to the copperhead I saw the previous day, I was pretty much in heaven (Frodo, not being much of an appreciator, was less so).  Now, I know that not everyone enjoys the presence of a snake (or two), especially the poisonous ones.  However, when I was a child, my dear dad would rescue snakes he found at his construction sites and release them in the stone wall outside of our house.  One memorable day, he brought home a baby gardener snake, and let me and my sister keep it in a tank in the house overnight.  In the early morning, we snuck out of bed and got the tank, and brought it back to our room.  We made tunnels out of the sheets and covers, and played with the snake for several minutes, until we accidentally lost it in the bedclothes.  Several terrifying seconds later we found it again, put it back in the tank, returned the tank to its former location, and nobody was the wiser (until now). So yeah, running into two rattlesnakes in a couple hours was kind of amazing.

 Full disclosure: I did not poke the snake with my hiking pole to see it move,
but I really, really wanted to.

 Not a snake, but a really cool dragonfly.  Anyone know what this is?

The other thing, Pennsylvania, is that you surprised me on my way out.  Now, I was aware that the trail passed by a Superfund site (in Palmerton), but I didn’t realize that the trail actually went THROUGH the Site.  While I don’t want to completely dork out on all of you with what happened, in short summary there was a smelting plant with poisonous fumes which caused the destruction of vegetation on the top of the mountain.  The trail passed through some of these areas, and provided excellent views of the devastation and revegetation.  (I should mention that the blueberries and black raspberries at the Superfund site looked AMAZING, but I decided to leave them alone.) (Full disclosure: there was a NASTY thunderstorm coming in, and I was trying to move quickly, which lessened the temptation of the beautiful berries.) (Question: Why do thunderstorms always seem to be rolling in when I’m going uphill?)

 Palmerton Superfund site at Lehigh Gap.  In the very faint background you can
see the remains of the smelting plant.

 

AWESOME!

The final thing I want to mention, Pennsylvania, is that I got to see two of my wonderful friends while in your borders.  My dear friend from college, Erin, and her father picked me up not too far from Palmerton and brought me to Maryland to recuperate and rest my feet for a couple of days. We spent time playing with her two gorgeous daughters (one of whom decided I looked French and would speak to me in no other language), visiting Fort McHenry in Baltimore harbor, and getting our Civil War groove on at Gettysburg.  Erin all but dared me to mention this, so I will: the park rangers at Gettysburg are extremely knowledgeable, are very good at spinning the stories of the battle at Gettysburg, and are incredibly good looking.  Do what you will with this information (I, for one, will be returning to Gettysburg next year).  Erin’s parents provided me with excellent food and accommodations, and by the end of my visit I was well rested and ready to return to the trail. About a week later I was picked up in New Jersey by my good friend Bonniejean, and brought back to Pennsylvania to her father’s house.  There we ate food fried in lard, hung out in an Amish market, went briefly to the Cabela’s retail store (which I was told is the most visited place in all of Pennsylvania), and had a nice and relaxing weekend.  Some highlights for me included eating the best pretzel of my life (and then eating two more), riding on the back of a motorcycle for the first time in my life, and singing in the car with a very close friend, but my very favorite moment was when Bonniejean drove up in her car, got out, and gave me a hug (and didn't even complain about my odor).  It was wonderful.

 Gettysburg.  That sign in the foreground says something along the lines of

"Don't be a disrespectful idiot and climb up on the rock with General Warren."  

(That's why I'm not in this photo of the view from Little Round Top.)

 Erin, me, and her two little girls.  Note: Laura is rocking the Elmo backpack.  

(I think she's gonna be a thru-hiker when she grows up!)

 Cabela's Retail Store where they have about a gazillion stuffed animals (not the cuddly kind).

 Me and Bonniejean!

So, Pennsylvania, I’ve got to say this: you may be rocky and my feet may be swollen, but I’ve had the most amazing times within your borders.  My friend Brazil Nut told me recently that when she hiked the Pacific Crest Trail last year, she only had one goal: to have a six pack from laughing when she finished.  It’s a good goal to have, and I’ve definitely gained some wonderful laugh lines since I left Harper’s Ferry.  I’m not sure exactly what changed in the past month, but all of a sudden, instead of having a quietly wonderful time, again and again I find myself in the midst of surreal and hysterical moments. 

Pennsylvania, you’ve been beyond amazing. Don’t listen to the haters.