TRAIL DAY 112
Sat, June 11, 2016 I was always talking to someone on the trail. In my head. I am anyway – no matter where I am or what I’m doing. If I’m writing a brief, I’m talking to the Judge. If one of my children is troubled, I’m trying to provide some perspective and help him or her through. If I’ve hurt someone, I’m talking to some keeper of time and solace in the sky with proportional remorse and hope for times of healing. If I’m angry, I’m talking to the inner wound asking it to reveal itself.
For countless miles on the trail, I was telling an audience at a large performance center in Lancaster of trail happenings, hazards, traits, character, gifts and glory. And so it was that occasionally I’d make notes for the time I actually would be presenting to an audience. I have notes in AWOL for today reading:
No mile is easily won
Can’t hitch a ride
Suck it up
And I added an observation of which I became keenly aware more and more as I headed north:
You must not let your attention or your muscle power flag; you can easily stub your toe, trip, twist an ankle or sustain a fracture.
Having lectured myself and any future hiker who cares to listen, I started the day’s hike around 7:00 a.m. Since I was in a shelter and not a tent, that probably meant I was up at around 5:30 a.m. Privy; brush; eat; pack and depart. As I covered the .1 mile back to the trail, I passed the Scouts I had seen the day before, all tending to their morning chores. The trail would be pretty flat, wide and easy for almost 10 miles.
As I was trucking northbound, I saw a couple in the distance ahead of me coming southbound. I noted that the gal on my left was carrying the accordioned foam pad so many used piled high on their packs or slung low at the bottom. Hers was high on top. I was getting ready for my snide remark to the guy:
Boy you’ve gotten off easy! Looks like your pack mule’s got the heavy load.
And then. . . .
“Oh, my God! Will! Melanie!”
Hugs, kisses. Packs? Who cares! We hugged what we could.
These were two friends from the time we lived in Maryland. My wife had visited mutual friends on her way to my birthday and told Melanie’s mom where she was headed and that I was doing the Appalachian Trail. Will and Melanie were thinking about doing some of the AT and chose this time. They wondered if they would run into me but figured I would have passed this spot. My age brought us together.
What a pleasant surprise. The small village again.
As I review my pictures, I see a small pool of water on a bright, sunny day and I remember thinking so often what a precious gift water is. Life depends on it. It’s like the blood of the earth. Mother Nature’s blood. Full of minerals. Full of life and essential to it. Haven’t we all heard how much of our bodies are water?
Steps. Steps built by maintainers on the trail were a pain. I thought my thoughts about them many times: they tell you when to step; they tell you how high or low to step; they set the interval between steps and they are abrupt – never smooth – without transition. You seldom have a choice but when you do, a thru-hiker always avoids them. We will go to the end of the log or to the bank at the edge of the step. Anything to avoid the dictatorial jolt of someone else’s concept of what works. Surely, the intent is to be helpful, or perhaps to thwart erosion but there are other ways to do this – such as digging trenches or building walls to divert the water off the trail.
Theo took a rest in the cool mud on a step in the series of steps about which I am now complaining. There were many more!
Through Maryland, the trail went from wide, long flat sections that must have been access roads at one time to rocky hints of things to come. Along one particularly rocky stretch I came upon a couple who had stopped to rest and have lunch. I stopped as well – just to chat. The gal was a very pretty, middle-aged woman who was very interesting to boot. She and her dapper husband were from Maine where she had been a bush pilot flying for the forest service to clear the area for fires. Probably before satellites. Her family had been in the lobster business for 7 generations. That’s about as Mainiac as you can get.
Maine! There’s a ring and mystery and solace to the name. My paralegal, who goes to Maine most every fall, has a sign she kept on her wall at the office: MAINE.CALM. Says it all.
The nice couple was going to leave the trail soon and head for Spain to hike the Camino de Santiago. I said I was thinking my wife and I might do the Camino and added she would love meeting them. I suggested getting together for dinner when I made it to Katahdin. They gave me their email address and said they expected to be back in Maine around September 27th. Another neat meeting in the small AT village.
While we were getting acquainted along came a fellow who looked and sounded for all the world like Sly Stalone.
The trail went on fairly gently until Ensign Cowell Shelter. Just before it I came upon a guy and gal with two English corgis. Now, here again, the gal seemed to have the heavier load since she – not he – was carrying two gallon jugs of water, most likely for the dogs!
After the shelter, the trail cut a swath through hay fields, crossed MD 77 near Smithsburg, Maryland and ascended toward the woods through another grassy meadow where we encountered: TRAIL MAGIC!
The Angels had put a sign up by the road and carried their goods and a canopy into the field. A poster noted their Magic was in honor of two people who thru-hiked 10 years before. I joined in the spirit of their purpose and thoroughly enjoyed their kind offering. They were solicitous of Theo as we both sat under the canopy and indulged. They would have been happy to have me stay longer but, once again, I had 8.5 miles to go before I’d sleep across the border in Pennsylvania! It was 2:30 p.m.
I left my Angels and headed back into the woods and soon I was descending into Warner Gap Hollow. On the way down, we encountered 4 black hounds on the loose. They were headed southbound until they saw Theo whom they followed back down into the hollow. Their owner had to come after them to turn them around.
Soon we came to Little Antietam Creek and Raven Rock Road, MD 491. In .3 miles we came to the Raven Rock Cliff 100 yards off the trail. We took in the view and headed back to our mission: miles!
The going was not all that easy and one of the most difficult moments was soon after the cliffs trying to find a blaze to lead us. I did a 360̊ video to capture the lack of any sign of the correct direction. The logical place for the trail to continue was within an arc of about 50̊ and I scoured the breadth of it until I found a faded marking that looked like a blaze. We descended through rocks that Theo negotiated a lot more easily than I did.
We followed a rocky path to a wooded area where a deer showed very little interest in our passing. In time we came to Pen Mar County Park followed by a long, wide path to the Pennsylvania border at the railroad tracks on the Mason-Dixon Line.
When I called ahead for a room at the Burgundy Lane B&B, Margaret Schmelzer answered. She was very kind and accommodating.
“Just call when you get to the road and we’ll come pick you up.”
When I got to the road, I called and husband David came for me in about 15 minutes. I packed my stuff in his very nice and very well maintained 4×4 Dodge Big Sport with the eco-friendly license plate: ECODESL. We entered the B&B from the parking area in the back. I was led to my room on the 2nd floor. The B&B was kept as immaculately as David’s Dodge; nonetheless, Theo was free to roam at large. It was after 9:00 p.m. and I had not had supper. Only Appelbee’s 5 miles away was open. David didn’t flinch about driving me there and dropped me off without fanfare saying, “Just call me when you’re done.”
I was with very trail-friendly people. My read of Margaret on the phone was right on!
I devoured two large Sprites which became my trademark for the summer months. The sweet, biting effervescence satisfied the tongue, mouth, throat and belly like a waterfall drenching a parched nomad in the desert.
The Sprites were also a buffer against swilling Beefeaters Gin on the rocks which I enjoyed in trail towns. Was it the summer weather? Sweat? Need for sugar? Who knows? My body said, “I love this!” And to cap off my pre-dinner intake, I’d splurge on a shrimp cocktail. Dinner followed with an IPA beer or Cabernet.
Well satisfied, I called David who picked me up and delivered me to the back entrance. I took to my room, had a shower and settled in for the night.
It was a snug room. The bed was just inside the door. The bathroom with triangular stall shower was at the foot of the bed to the left and at the foot to the right was a small nook for a writing table and chair. A chair near the bed was a good place for my clothes and items from my pack. Excess items made it to the floor at the far side of the bed. Outside the room was a refrigerator which I didn’t need. I slept well.
Day #112 Pine Knob Shelter > Waynesboro PA 18.1 miles