On Accommodations

The places I spend the night while on the trail can generally be sorted into four basic types:

1. Tent - MSR Hubba; sleeps one (i.e. - me) with room for boots and other random junk and my pack outside under the vestibule.
2. Shelter - Structures placed along the trail near a water source (most of the time) specifically for hikers to sleep in; sleeps anywhere from 5-25; usually wooden, usually 3-sided, although some are definitely more impressive than others.
3. Hostel - Any place along the trail that offers overnight accommodation at a significantly cheaper price than a hotel, generally geared toward hikers; usually a bunk room w/ shared bath; may or may not have mattress, sheets, food, etc.
4. Hotel/Motel - You probably know what I'm talking about; From Mictrotel in Franklin, NC to Bales Motel in Gatlinburg (see The Gatlinburg Gang: Parts 1 and 2).

Of all the states so far, Pennsylvania has definitely offered the most interesting and ecclectic choices for accomodation, sometimes blurring the lines between categories. My first night was spent tenting literally just north of the Mason Dixon Line, between railroad tracks and a road crossing, and the second at a pair ("snoring" and "non-snoring") of incredibly nice shelters. Then, right after the halfway mark was the Ironmaster's Mansion hostel, which used to be the huge house of (you guessed it) the owner of an iron mine, who also happened to be on the train of the Underground Railroad, so there were some cool secret rooms underneath it, too!

With halfway under my belt, I decided to trek it all the way to Boiling Springs - a very pretty town, but not exactly hiker-convenient. Basically the only places to stay are bed & breakfasts, or a hiker campsite a half a mile out of town (with no water). Except, one wonderful family, the Mateyas (I hope I spelled that right), invite hikers to spend the night in their backyard, in an adorable little playhouse their kids had. Is it a shelter or a hostel? Either way, it was warm and cozy and dry, and exactly where I stayed.

Still moving on, my next stop was the great little trail town Duncannon, and the hiker mecca that is The Doyle Hotel. The Doyle is one of those long-fabled and anticipated stops for most hikers. But don't let name fool you - it's not a Super 8. In fact, it would probably fit more comfortably in the "hostel" category, with their low, low price and mostly hiker customers, except for the fact that you do get your own room. The Doyle was built back around 1900, when Duncannon was probably a more booming town. It has a pub on the first floor (with excellent food), while rooms are located on the 3rd and 4th floors - a shared bathroom for each floor. My corner room (two windows!) contained a twin bed, a chair, an old dresser, and an oscillating fan. Vickie and Pat, the owners, are some of the nicest people on the whole trail. The Doyle has ambiance. Character. Just no cable or air conditioning. I loved it.

After Duncannon, it was back to shelters. But not just any shelters. The 501 shelter (so-named because it's right next to PA501) could easily be a hostel. It's a 4-sided building, with bunks, a solar shower, and a caretaker who lives in the house next door. And because it's right near the road - pizza delivery. What more can you ask for? Electricity, you say? Well, wait 'til you get to the Eckville shelter, 'cause that's exactly what they've got. A lightbulb and an outlet and everything. It's in a little building right behind a house (another caretaker). Only 6 bunks, but oh yeah, it's got a real flush toilet, too!

And finally, yesterday I came into the great little town of Palmerton, where they have what they call the "Jailhouse Hostel". In one of the city buildings, which used to be the old jailhouse, they let hikers spend the night in the basement for free (bunks and everything)! It's not really like a jail at all anymore, but if you need to check in after the office has closed, you're supposed to just flag down an officer on patrol and he'll let you in. Ha!

So thanks, Pennsylvania. Despite all the boulder fields and rock slides during the day, you've certainly provided some sweet places to spend the night. The next seven states will have a lot to live up to.

Movin' On Up

First of all - happy late July 4th! I hope everyone was very patriotic and gorged themselves on hotdogs and apple pie before blowing something up in their backyard. I did my part by hitching into town for a great lunch at Colonel Sanders' and then later lighting an obscene amount of sparklers at the shelter. My reward was waking up the next morning with my face covered in huge, oozing, awful bug bites. Or it could be some kind of rash. All I know is, it gross and it happened over night. Thanks America.

Secondly, I am now officially in "the North". Enemy territory. Yankee country. Although, if it weren't for the license plates you probably would never know it. Most of the people I've witnessed reek of "redneck" and the trail passes through so many historic areas, I haven't learned so much about the Civil War since I was in 5th grade. In fact, the hostel I'm staying at right now was part of the Underground Railroad. And I got to go down into the secret rooms!

And finally.....I'm really truly actually halfway to Maine! 1088.1 miles down, 1088.1 to go. Honestly, hitting halfway was pretty anti-climactic. I was by myself at the time, and there wasn't even any kind of marker to indicate it. I guess I'll just have to settle for the old marker with the wrong mileage. But to celebrate I'm spending the night here at Pine Grove Furnace State Park in Pennsylvania, only a few miles past the half, and home of the famous "Half-Gallon Challenge", where hikers try to down a whole half gallon of ice cream as fast as they can and then never eat ice cream again. However, since I enjoy ice cream so much, I opted for a pint instead, plus two cheesburgers and two orders of fries.

So now it's onward and upward...or northward. Only one more half to go!

Self High Five!

1000 miles - check.

Virginia - check.

Obligatory thumbs up picture - double check.


Harpers Ferry is not actually halfway to Maine. But it is a big checkpoint.

On to the actual halfway!

We've gotta get out of this place...

Virginia, that is. And for awhile, I thought it very well might be the last thing I ever did. Maybe it was because I slackpacked for a week. Maybe it was because I got a sweet little taste of the movies and Rock Band I'm missing. Maybe it was because most of the people I knew were either in front of or behind me. Starting on my way through Shenandoah N.P. I was none too happy about hiking. So unhappy, in fact, that it was the first time I ever seriously considered quitting the trail.

Shenandoah is like some kind of strange spirit-sucking, tourist-filled alternate dimension, hidden under the guise of a seeming hiker fantasy land - easy terrain, plenty of views, nearly-tame wildlife, many many places to eat. As soon as I got in, I wanted to be out again, but not enough to be motivated to hike out. I just wanted to sit around, take my sweet time, and complain about walking. I guess it's just my natural tendency to sulk.

I was glad to find out later that I wasn't the only hiker feeling this way. It's the Virginia Blues. I got into Damascus on May 8. That's a MONTH AND 16 DAYS AGO. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time visiting with people and begin lazy and taking lots of days off, but when it's finally time for all that to be over, you want to feel like you're actually moving on, getting back to getting somewhere. And Shenandoah is that last big, 100-mile hurdle you have to drag yourself over before you finally get there - out of VA.

The good news is, I made it. I'm in Front Royal right now, rewarding myself with a night at a posh Super 8. Yes, I'm still in Virginia, but I am no longer miserable. The end is in sight, WV is right on the horizon, and before I know it I'll be venturing into that foreign territory above the Mason Dixon.




P.S. - I did see 3 bears in the park! No pictures, though. Keep your fingers crossed for N.J.

Casa de Lipscomb

Right now I am as close to hiker heaven as you can probably get. Sitting in a beautiful kitchen in an amazing house, with seven friends, on a gorgeous day, waiting for a delicious dinner to be prepared. Also, there's plenty of Dr. Pepper.

Three days ago, Freefall and I pulled up to the James River near Glasgow, VA, which just happens to be down the road from Fairfield, VA, where my good ol' hiking buddy Vachon and his wife, Mary Lynn, live. So after a nice afternoon dip in the river, we hopped in their car and were whisked away to what has become an impromptu hostel. We picked up Pick and Rabid the same day, while Cookie Monster and Timeless (who I just met) were already at the house waiting. Since I've been here, Freefall, Cookie, and Timeless have all packed on, but Thinker, Brahma Bull, and Sweet Potato have taken their places.

I first met Mary Lynn back in Hot Springs, where she came to visit Vachon, and I was instantly overwhelmed by love and generosity. They insisted everyone pack into the adorable little cabin they had rented, while Vachon, Dave from Maine, and I were slackpacked all the way to Erwin, TN. This time it's the same story all over again and even more. They have opened up their entire house to us AND their cars. Everyone who has been here has been slackpacked as far as possible (I went all the way from Glasgow to Montebello - 38 miles) and on top of all that, a hiker-family dinner every night. I have had barbecue chicken, hamburgers and hot dogs, tortellini and fettucini alfredo (with homemade sauces), grilled salmon, and roast beef w/ potatoes.

Basically what I'm saying is - I live here now. I've been here five nights and it's going to be awful to tear myself away from it. Two months ago, I didn't even know any of the people here, but now we're all together like one big happy family. The Lipscombs have let their house be a home away from home. It will be impossible for me to ever repay them. And it will definitely be impossible for anyone to ever top this trail magic.

Trail Daze

Yet again, I have become very lax in my blogging duties. Please forgive me - myself at a blog is very similar to a monkey at a typewriter.

However, the last few weeks have indeed been eventful, so I will give you the abbreviated highlights...

"ahem"

Hiking out of Damascus, rain storm, group seperated, Troutdale, slackpack w/ Racoon and Lipstick, Grayson Highlands (wild ponies!).

Trail Days! = back to Damascus. reunion!, Tent City campground, Grizzly Park, lots of vendors, lots of Damascus Eats, Mom visits, The Place, hikers parade/water fight, talent show, Vachon goes home, more tent city, party's over, everyone's split, gotta go.

Back to the trail, Relax Inn at Atkins, crossing I-81, cow pastures, short days, huge trail magic breakfast, into Bland, picked up and home for the weekend.

Tooling around Pearisburg, visit people ahead on the trail, meet Freefall and Double D, back to my place, lots of food, hot tub, Monday morning - drop 'em off, gotta meet Mary Disa, back to Bland, and away we go.

*whew*

So that's the super super quick version. If you want anything fleshed out, just shoot me a line somehow. My pictures might help illustrate some, too, since I've actually got them updated now.

Until next time...good night and good luck.

The Road to Damascus

Alright.

So a lot has happened since Gatlinburg. Let me see if I can condense all of it into one blog post...

We left Clingmans Dome and made it out of the Smokies alive, with no other craziness to speak of. We spent a quick two nights outside the park before we hit Hot Springs, NC. A couple of the shelters along the way had been terrorized by bears (or probably a bear), but luckily most of my companions and I were able to avoid them, although we have heard many a story from those who didn't. On the way into Hot Springs, Vachon hiked on ahead of the rest of us to meet his wife, Mary Lynn, in town, and as the rest of us arrived, we were all promptly ushered into a car and driven out to a wonderful little cabin they had rented. They invited everyone to crash there, use the shower, shuttle back and forth to town, and eat a ridiculous amount of delicious food that Mary Lynn prepared. It was amazing. Also, since there was a car easily accesible, Vachon hatched a plan to slackpack a good section of the trail, or day-hike in other words - take some water and lunch, get dropped off at one point, picked up at another, and come back to spend the night in town. I was invited to join, and I sure wasn't going to pass up something like that. Long story short - Vachon, Dave from Maine, and I all ended up slackpacking something like 70 miles in between Hot Springs and Erwin, TN, while the rest of the crew hiked on their own. Alas, in Erwin, Mary Lynn finally had to head home, and unfortunately Dave also made the tough decision to end his hike there, for several reasons. We were very sad to see them go.

Vachon and I finally put our enormous packs back on and set out again for some "real" hiking...but we only ended up getting 4 miles our first day. The next day, we walked awhile in the rain, and that night an unexpected cold front blew through. When we woke up it was about 22 degrees and there was snow on the ground. This was not a good start back, but Mary Lynn just happened to have an uncle who lived in the area, so Vachon gave him a call, and we were whisked away to Bakersville, NC. Ted and his wife, Florence, who are some of the nicest people on the face of the earth, took us into their home and gave us showers, laundry, beds, plus breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Incredible trail magic.

Getting back on the trail a second time, we hiked some more fairly short and easy days (with some of the best views so far) until we met my parents in Elizabethton, TN, for yet another weekend of pampering and town food. We defintely had been spoiled. My parents dropped us back on the trail AGAIN, where we ascertained the whereabouts of the rest of our former group (minus MOTO, who sadly also decided to leave), quickly rejoined them, and headed on our merry way to the big V.A.

Which brings us up to this morning, where I woke up with my regular spring allergies in full swing (i.e. - incredibly itchy eyes). And like a dumb hiker, I just couldn't keep my dirt-covered hands out of my eye. No self-control - I just couldn't stop scratching. When I finally asked for some assistance, I was greeted with shock and appall at the state of my left eye, which was apparently swollen beyond comprehension. So it was decided that I should get to a doctor, post-haste, and get it checked out. So here I am in Damascus, a day earlier than expected. My eye is fine (don't rub your eye with dirty hands, by the way), and hopefully I will be able to slackpack the little section of trail I skipped.

Whew! And that's basically it. Here I am! Back in good ol' Virginia! Seems kind of weird to be some place I recognize. You should come and visit sometime, or maybe I'll visit you when I get near home. Three states down already, woohoo! The future's wide open!