Duncannon

October 26, 2017

Seven miles from our campsite, the town of Duncannon, PA, awaits us with the promise of hot meals, luxurious showers, and a needed day of rest. It has been six days since my last shower, and 13 days since our last full zero – a day with no hiking. To say that I am anticipating this stop is putting it mildly!

We hike predominantly downhill, towards the Susquehanna River. At the bottom of our final steep slope, the AT crosses railroad tracks. A sign warns hikers to cross quickly, as the railroad is an active one. “Do not walk along the length of the rails” the sign cautions. Jay and I read the sign, then pause, perplexed. There is a very long train sitting on the rails right in front of us. If we go around it, we will be ‘walking the length of the rails’. If we cross quickly, we will have to climb over the coupling between two box cars. Which choice is least dangerous? We choose to climb.

IMG_20171026_120449851 — An unusual obstacle on the AT!

Two rivers meet at Duncannon, the Susquehanna and the Juniata. The Susquehanna River is crossed by Clarks Ferry Bridge, 2,088 ft of highway with a pedestrian walk attached to one side. This was a pre-colonial ford used by Native Americans, then a ferry route in the late 1700’s, morphing to a dam with a mule-drawn canal route, then a very long covered bridge, and finally the modern bridge of today. Quite a lot of history! Afterwards, the bridge crossing the Juniata River gives us 650 more feet of airy pavement before depositing us on dry land, with streets leading into Duncannon.

IMG_20171026_121010918 — A modern walkway covers a lot of history on the Clarks Ferry Bridge.

Our first focus is a hot meal, so we head for the Doyle Hotel, an iconic landmark of the Appalachian Trail, known for excellent food at reasonable prices, gracious hosts (Pat and Vickey Kelly), a rather ramshackle exterior, and a clean and welcoming inside. The Doyle has been in operation (under various names and owners) since the 1770s. Pat and Vickey Kelly have worked to turn the hotel and restaurant into a family and hiker friendly place, with truly excellent food.

We enjoy the quiet atmosphere while chatting with our hostess, Vickey.

“How has business been?” Jay asks. “Did you have a good summer?”

“No!” comes the explosive answer. “Unfortunately, a local church with a new pastor decided to give everything away to hikers this summer. They were providing free meals, camping, food resupply, shuttles – everything! It hurt a lot of businesses in town.”

We sympathize, and the talk turns to other things; stories of famous hikers, lists of hikers from foreign countries, compliments of the delicious food. Later, Jay and I talk about Vickey’s frustration. It does seem too bad that one man’s vision of a mission became other people’s financial hardship.

After our delightful meal, we wander the streets for a while, checking out resupply opportunities in the convenience stores. Obviously, these stores cater to hikers, for their supplies are extensive and varied. Then it is time to call a shuttle to our hotel choice for the night, the Red Carpet Inn, located about three miles out of town. We settle in to a clean, large room, full of the luxuries coveted by thru-hikers – hot showers, cold sodas, clean sheets, warm room.

We have 45 miles left of our hike. Tomorrow will be a zero day, then four more days of hiking!

Peters Mountain

October 25, 2017

Wind blows up the ridge, tweaking my nose with a hint of frost, sending icy fingers down my neck, creeping under the edge of my coat. Though the morning had dawned with a glorious sunrise and mild temperature, the weather this afternoon as we hike the length of Peters Mountain is a different story. Relief blossoms as Peters Mtn Shelter looms through the trees. I have only one thought as I trudge up the path. ‘Please, oh please, may this shelter face away from the wind.’

The first shelter on Peters Mtn was built by Earl Schaffer, author of Walking With Spring and the first reported thru-hiker of the AT, in 1948. (That shelter is now on display in the Appalachian Trail Museum at Pine Grove Furnace State Park, Pennsylvania.) The current structure was built in 1994, and is a virtual palace, sleeping 20 people.

Unfortunately, the shelter does face into the wind on this day, but it is so big, we manage to huddle in a shielded corner and eat an early dinner while enjoying the sight of rows of trees marching down the ridge.

About a mile farther, we come to Table Rock, serrated layers of sandstone tilted towards an astounding view. Below us, a flock of turkey vultures with distinctive red heads and V-shaped silhouettes, take off from a tree and soar skyward. To our surprise, another tree suddenly erupts with soaring birds – black vultures, identified by white-tipped wings and a straight wing silhouette. We watch, enthralled, as both flocks make graceful, ever-widening circles, eventually disappearing over the edge of the next mountain. For a few magical moments, the cold wind is forgotten as my imagination takes fire. What did the turkey vultures smell? The black vultures, having a less keen olfactory sense but a more aggressive nature, were obviously following the turkey vultures, probably bent upon exploiting the first group’s meal. What sort of carrion will they all descend upon? Standing on the cliff side, I want to spread my arms and take off, following to see the end of that story.

We continue hiking along the top of the ridge, giving our legs a workout as we negotiate the rocky trail. About 5:00 p.m., we come to PA Route 225. This very busy road makes a hairpin turn at the top of the ridge just where the AT crosses. I’m relieved to see a pedestrian bridge above the road, allowing us to cross in safety.

With darkness an hour away, and the busy road behind us, our next priority is finding a campsite. As dusk nears, tent sites have a habit of disappearing. This phenomena is so common, hikers call it, “sunset panic”. We hope for a flat, rock-free piece of ground on the lee side of the ridge. But the steep-sided trail continues stubbornly on the windward side, with a liberal covering of rocks. We cross under a power line, and Jay detours uphill, questing for a possible campsite just over the crest. I gratefully take a moment to rest, letting the exhaustion of the day catch up.

When Jay returns, his face shows apprehension. “It’s possible to pitch a tent up there, but it’s not ideal. We wouldn’t get much sleep. I know you are tired. What do you think?”

I am tired, but I know a good night’s sleep is important. “Let’s keep looking. We’ve got about 45 more minutes of daylight. And we can always use our flashlights and hike all the way to the next shelter if we need to. But surely there will be something before then!”

On we go, Jay ranging ahead, me following slowly. My legs are outraged. They can’t believe I just sentenced them to possibly two more hours of walking today!

Fifteen minutes later, the trail finally flips to the lee side of the mountain. ‘There must be a place along here. Oh, please don’t head back to the other side,’ I think furiously at the trail. Another ten minutes of walking, and I gratefully make out Jay’s figure in the deepening dusk. He has found a very old campsite, hemmed in with underbrush and covered in leaves, but with the required flat rock-free space for our tent. We are three miles short of Clarks Ferry Shelter. Very soon I am gratefully crawling into our tent, glad to be protected from chilling air currents, and so very glad to be horizontal after a long day!

Still Southbound …

October 21, 2017

Pennsylvania’s mining history is ever present on the Appalachian Trail. Leaving Port Clinton, we crossed the Schuylkill River, then crossed railroad tracks at the Reading Blue Mountain & Northern Railroad Station. I was delighted to see a display of anthracite coal! The boulders resembled giant pieces of obsidian (black volcanic glass), but when I rubbed one with my fingers, black dust came off. The juxtaposition of polished, gleaming surfaces becoming black dust with the touch of a hand fascinated me.

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Hiking the AT in October brings us into contact with many hunters as the trail runs through several sections of Pennsylvania Game Lands. One early morning, we saw two bow hunters loading a deer into their truck. Another evening, we passed a group of hunters camped in a small hollow. This morning, we saw blood spots dotting the trail for about a mile as we walked. Later in the day, a pile of entrails beside the trail attracted flies and yellow jackets. Many signs at trail heads warn us to wear blaze orange or other bright colors, and we are careful to stay on the trail!

October 22, 2017

History continues to capture our imaginations with a monument to Fort Dietrich Snyder, used in 1755 during the French and Indian War. For several miles afterwards, we imagined how a war would affect our attitude as we hiked through the forest. The peace and renewal we find were certainly not present in 1755!

This evening, we camped at Applebee Campsite, near the Pilger Ruh Spring. I went in search of water, following blue blazes downhill through deepening dusk. A burbling, splashing sound brought me to a lovely spring. Nearby, a historical sign commemorated Moravian missionaries led by Count Zinzendorf, who stopped to rest here on their way to the Indian towns of Shamokin and Wyoming in 1742. As I filled my water bottles and headed back to our tent by flashlight, I could see a group of missionaries, building a fire, laying out bedrolls, feeding horses. In my imagination, our simple campsite suddenly was full of shadowy visitors from long ago.

October 23, 2017

We woke to dense fog obscuring the sunrise, extending the night. An hour after rising, enough sunlight began filtering through to allow us to see color, but the fog continued to wisp around tree trunks. As we hiked, a cross-bow hunter suddenly stepped out onto the trail about 20 yards ahead of us. He didn’t say anything, just turned and walked away, disappearing quickly back into the fog.

This afternoon we met another hunter as we crossed Swatara Creek and PA Route72. Scott chatted with us for a few minutes. He told us he was hunting pheasant, and kindly let us take his picture.

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October 24, 2017

Once again the sound of raindrops inches above my face wakes me. It is 5:00 a.m., very dark, and rain is pouring out of the sky! We doze, secure in our dry tent, not willing to go out in the cold and wet. At 7:00 a.m., the rain begins to lessen, and we finally rise an hour later, with only drizzly drops from trees as our company.

We hike through the waterlogged forest, skirting puddles in the trail. Four miles into our day, we cross Rausch Creek, and meet the only people we will see today, four boys and a girl who have ridden bicycles along an old railroad bed to this bridge. Jay notices that the old road is graveled with bits of coal! There are several signs here, telling of a limestone diversion well which helps to neutralize acidic water coming from old coal mine drainages upstream.

IMG_20171024_113956863 — A limestone diversion well.

Tonight we camp just past Rattling Run, on top of a ridge with many pine trees. A lookout tower once existed here, the only reason this part of the ridge is relatively free of rocks. Someone has built furniture around the campfire circle, and I find a lovely tree to guard our food bags. The pine trees scent the air with freshness, and we go to sleep with hopes of a beautiful sunrise tomorrow!

October 25, 2017

The morning dawned in beauty and warmth. Two squirrels eyed us as we ate breakfast. I’m sure they could smell our sardines, and wondered if they were good squirrel food! A train whistle echoed up the ridge, sounding far away from our beautiful spot. The allure of our campsite made it hard to leave this ridge top.

Hiker Fun

October 19, 2017

There can be a sense of mischievous power in the opportunity to wake up a friend. This morning, we rose early as usual, getting on the trail at 7:30 a.m. An hour later, we passed a hammock and tarp strung between two trees, with gear neatly stored nearby.

“Hey, isn’t that Gator’s hammock?” I asked. At the sound of my voice, convulsive movements set the hammock swinging, bulges rippling across the surface.

“Maybe it’s a chrysalis,” Jay teased. Then, as a foot and ankle appeared, “Lookout, something is emerging!”

A couple more spasmodic lurches set Gator free. The three of us were delighted to see each other, and immediately began talking like old friends, topics ranging from the state of the trail to favorite books.

We first met Gator, an 18 year old southbound thru-hiker, in the 100 Mile Wilderness in Maine. We were impressed by his obvious youth, mixed with an amazing air of competence, and a hiking pace at opposite ends of the spectrum from ours. We rise early, hike slowly and steadily all day, and stop as evening falls. Gator rises late, hikes and runs along the trail at an incredible rate, and stops whenever the whim hits him. Thus, in the last 1,000 miles, our paths have crossed unpredictably, but always happily.

After a good twenty minutes of lighthearted conversation, Jay and I tore ourselves away, continuing down the trail as Gator began his morning routines. “See you when you pass us!” I called as we left.

IMG_20171019_093750196 — Gator, a fascinating conversationalist!

It’s been seven days since we crossed into Pennsylvania, and I am just beginning to get a feel for this state’s infamous rocks. The AT follows the tops of many ridges, with a mixture of flat, level path and crazy rocks which show little semblance to a trail. White blazes upon rocks and trees are sometimes the only reassurance that we are, indeed, still on track. More protruding rock jumbles are graced with names … Bake Oven Knob, Bear Rocks, the Knife Edge, Dan’s Pulpit, the Pinnacle.

Some of the trail looks as if a dump truck spilled a pile of boulders down the mountainside, causing me to slowly step up, walk across, step down, step around, step up, step down, etc. Today, I took my courage in hand and began to step from pointy top to pointy top, hopping, leaping, balancing. It took a bit of nerve, a good bit of inner core muscles, and incredible focus to negotiate a spill of boulders in this fashion. I couldn’t keep up my momentum for more than 20 yards or so, but for those few seconds, I felt like Super Woman, flying through the forest!

We continued hiking, enjoying a warm autumn day with blue sky above and insects humming in the forest understory. I was about to try my new Super Woman powers again when suddenly a sharp electric shock ripped across my ankle. “Aaah!” I cried out, looking down to see a yellow jacket stinging me through my sock! “Oh, oh, OUCH!” I screamed, flailing wildly at the ferocious insect. Fearful that one insect meant a whole hive, Jay and I ran for a few yards, leaving the menacing hum behind.

When we stopped to take stock, my ankle throbbed with savage pain spreading quickly through my foot and up my leg. Jay handed me a Benadryl tablet while I sniffled and moaned. That stupid ankle hurt the rest of the day, burning and feeling as if it was covered with blisters. Fortunately, the Benadryl stopped the spread of pain, and that evening in the tent, I was pleased to see no swelling at all! Hurray for modern medicine!

In the late afternoon, we came to a side trail to The Pinnacle, a set of rocks with a panoramic view. Most side trails off the AT are marked with blue blazes and small signs. The side trail to The Pinnacle is also marked with a cairn. But not just a cairn. More like a mountain of a cairn, reaching at least 20 feet high, engulfing the trunks of a couple of nearby trees. The amount of time and energy needed to build such a monument boggled my mind! Later, a local hiker told us a school used to be responsible for trail maintenance there, and the school children started a tradition that it was good luck to put a rock on the cairn. What fun, turning work into play!

We walked down the short trail, and suddenly found ourselves upon the edge of the world! I was reminded of McAfee Knob in Virginia. The ledge simply summoned one to its brink, the better to absorb the view! Of course, knowing my relationship with heights, I have to admit – I scooted to the edge on my rear! But however one gets there, The Pinnacle puts the crown of fun on a very pleasurable day of hiking!

IMG_20171019_165413972_HDR — Pennsylvania at my feet!

Lehigh Gap

October 17, 2017

Lehigh Gap, Pennsylvania. When hikers talk of strenuous portions of the AT, this spot invariably is mentioned. I’ve been nervous about this site for weeks. I’ve tried to reassure myself. After all, the White Mountains of New Hampshire and the mountains in southern Maine were surely more extreme than a gap in Pennsylvania. How tough could it be?

Morning dawned clear and cold. 38 degrees Fahrenheit cold. BRR! I wore every stitch of clothing from my pack last night, and still wore an extra layer this morning as we began hiking.

The first three miles ran along the top of the ridge of Blue Mountain. The trail was a mixture of dirt, rocks, and grass. Quite nice in places!

Blue Mountain is part of an EPA Superfund Site, the result of nearly 70 years of zinc smelting operations in the nearby valley and town of Palmerton. Huge quantities of heavy metals were emitted throughout the area. Three thousand acres of revegetation with grasses, and the planting of 13,000 trees was completed in 2013. Jay and I were interested to see the healthy trees, about head high, growing along the ridge.

The fourth mile of our morning began as the trail took an abrupt dive over the edge of the ridge, heading straight down over cliffs and car-sized boulders to the Lehigh River below. In one mile, the trail loses 1,000 feet of elevation. One hiker described it as “thrilling on a windy day.” I was glad to have a day of gorgeous sun, blue sky, and just the merest kiss of a zephyr to keep us cool on the cliff. Nevertheless, as Jay paused often to enjoy the incredible views, I kept my eyes strictly upon the next rock to negotiate!

At the bottom, I was jubilant! The last “cliff” of our hike, with no hurt body parts! In actuality, the trail was mostly very steep, sometimes with rock stairs, and only two parts that required scrambling and climbing. I gave Jay an ecstatic hug, saying, “We did it! Woohoo! Pennsylvania, here we come!”

IMG_20171017_105607631 — Sarah slithers and oozes over boulders, keeping her eyes steadfastly upon the rocks, not the spectacular view so far below.

Poison Ivy, Poison Oak

October 15, 2017

For the last couple of days, Jay has been aware of a rash spreading across his right shoulder and ribs, looking suspiciously like poison ivy. Since Jay is very allergic, and always needs medical intervention to heal, we decided to take a detour to the town of Wind Gap, PA today.

A misty drizzle caused us to don rain gear as we hiked. To reach Wind Gap, we walked two miles on the AT from our campsite, then 1.5 miles on a road. Road walks are never much fun, but on a rainy day, with cars splashing puddles of muddy water across our legs, I was less than enamored with the morning. A half mile into our road walk brought us to a convenience store, where we decided to stop for a rest and a drink.

While I was buying our refreshments, a man approached. “Hi, are you a hiker?”

“Yes,” I replied. “My husband and I are hiking the AT.”

“How’s it going? Do you need money?” he asked.

I didn’t think we looked that down and out, but perhaps the last 2,000 miles was beginning to show! “No thank you. Although we wouldn’t turn down a ride to the doctor’s office,” I managed to say over my surprise.

“Oh, I’m not headed into town,” he said. “Is it anything serious?”

“No, my husband just has a bad case of poison ivy,” I explained. “It’s okay. We can walk the next mile.” (In the rain, my inner voice complained.)

The man drove off, and Jay and I began walking again. A few minutes later, he pulled up beside us! “I got down the road a ways, and was convicted by the Holy Spirit,” he told us. “I knew I had to go back.”

We enjoyed the ride in dry comfort. We learned that the man had been rescued from the World Trade Center on 9-11. The ride was very short, so we didn’t learn much more. We thanked him several times, and he headed off. Once again, the AT provided another adventure!

The doctor told Jay he had poison oak. He said he could tell the difference because poison oak made a clumpy rash instead of a spread out rash. He gave Jay a prescription for steroids to dry it up.

Jay’s bug pants fascinated the doctor. He said he treats sooo many people with Lyme disease, and he is going to start recommending the pants to his patients. (See my blog titled “Fashion versus Function”, written August 25, for a description of the pants.)

From the clinic, Jay and I walked to the grocery store for resupply, picked up his medicine from a nearby pharmacy, and ate lunch at a Chinese restaurant. The cook was very surprised to see us with our backpacks. “What are you doing still out on the trail?” he asked. “The season is over! It’s getting cold out there!” I was touched (and a bit amused) at his obvious concern.

The rain stopped as we were eating lunch, which made the road walk back to the AT much nicer. Full stomachs and the memory of kind people helped also!

Our mileage total was seven miles, with four and a half hours spent in town. We stopped near the Leroy Smith Shelter at 5:00 p.m.

We ate dinner, and I hung the food on a fabulous tree branch, perfectly placed to be easy access for me and difficult for questing critters. While Jay set up the tent, I went in search of water. The map indicated three springs here, all down hill from our camp site. The first two were dry. A half mile after setting out with empty water bottles, with dusk collecting under the trees, I was beginning to despair. A small sign nailed to a tree said, “Spring.” I turned off the trail, and found water gushing out of the ground! What a relief! Joyfully, with heavy water bottles, I headed the half mile back to our camp site. Jay met me halfway. He had already put up the tent AND laid out both sleeping pads, then came to find me in the evening twilight. What a guy! As I brushed my teeth in the dark, once again I felt so very blessed.

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Delaware Water Gap

October 12, 2017

We crossed from New Jersey to Pennsylvania today! We are now on our last state, with approximately 200 miles left to hike. (Although, who’s counting?)

IMG_20171012_160038530 — This sign is in the middle of the bridge crossing the Delaware River.

The crossing from New Jersey to Pennsylvania was actually quite dramatic. The Delaware River divides the two states, and the AT crosses this river using a bridge shared by Interstate 80. The 2,465 foot (almost half a mile) bridge has four lanes of speeding traffic and a sidewalk. Pedestrians are separated from cars and trucks by a waist-high concrete divider. Nevertheless, with trucks shaking the middle of the bridge, wind trying to pluck our packs off, and noise buffeting our ears, I admit to being scared. What a relief to reach the other side, and walk into the town of Delaware Water Gap, PA.

IMG_20171012_155626277 — The barrier between us and traffic felt rather feeble!

Grey Beard

October 11, 2017

We first met Grey Beard in Virginia. He is an 82 year old hiker with a goal to set the age record for a thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail. Over the course of the last 2,000 miles, we have met him several times. He always has a smile and time to stop and talk. He taught us to recognize chestnut trees during one chat. Another day, he gave us his philosophy of life, distilled into one sentence, “Do something you love and be happy.”

20170617_132012 — Graybeard talking with some day hikers.

This afternoon, just after we crossed a road, we saw a hiker approaching.

“Hey, how’s it going? Isn’t it a beautiful day?” Grey Beard greeted us with a wide smile.

“Wow! It’s great to see you!” I exclaimed. “It’s been a while. How is your hike going?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of slack packing. I made a date to finish the trail by October 26, which means I’ve got to get a move on. Yesterday I hiked 19 miles,” Grey Beard replied.

“Nineteen miles! That’s impressive! We only hiked 13 miles yesterday,” Jay laughed.

Grey Beard grinned and said, “You probably had more fun, though. I’m putting in long hours with this deadline looming.”

As we chatted, it began to rain. Grey Beard looked at the sky, then looked at his watch. “The weather forecast said the rain would come about now. I started hiking at 5:00 a.m., thinking I might finish before the rain. Did you see my van as you crossed that last road? I’ll be staying at a friend’s house tonight.”

I couldn’t help but be the tiniest bit envious. As we dug out rain gear, Grey Beard was headed to a warm van and a dry night at a friend’s house. We, on the other hand, hiked through off-and-on drizzle for another four miles to a campsite near Rattlesnake Spring. We ate dinner and set up the tent during a lull in the rain, brushed our teeth as the rain began again, then dove into our portable shelter. It’s evenings like this that have made me LOVE our dry tent! I reveled in the luxury of snuggling into a warm sleeping bag free of moisture, then falling asleep to a lullaby of pattering rain drops. Envy of Grey Beard’s dry night disappeared.

We probably won’t see Grey Beard again, since he is trying to finish by October 26. He won’t get any zero days, and he’ll do big miles. We’ll be slower, but hopefully healthier as we meander through Pennsylvania. We can live with getting out-hiked by an 82 year old!

Note: Grey Beard did finish his hike on October 26 at Harpers Ferry, WV, thus setting the age record for an Appalachian Trail thru-hike. You can read more about him on his website: http://www.greybeardadventurer.com/

Yes, it does rain…

October 8, 2017

Rain began our morning. There’s nothing quite like hearing the patter of drops on top of the tent, just inches from ones face, first thing in the morning.

By now, Jay and I have our rainy-day-campsite-pack-up down to a science. First, pack everything into our waterproof bags while still inside the tent. Put the bags into our packs. Put on rain gear. Then emerge from our dry haven into the dripping, watery forest. At this point, I always stand a moment and revel in the wonder of being dry inside my rain gear while fat drops of water plop on my head. We then take down the wet tent and pack it into Jay’s outer pack pocket. Next we retrieve our food bags and put them into the tops of our packs. Finally it’s time to set out down the trail, looking for a dry place to eat. The whole process takes about 30 minutes.

Today we were only eight-tenths mile from Pochuck Mtn. Shelter. When we arrived, the rain was streaming off my rain gear, beginning to trickle down my neck. Four hikers were packing up inside the shelter, eating breakfast, stuffing sleeping bags, etc. They were a bit startled to see two very wet hikers suddenly appear out of the mist.

“Hi!” I greeted them brightly. “We don’t want to drip all over you, but we haven’t had breakfast yet, and we were planning to eat it here, under cover from this precipitation!”

The good-natured hikers willingly consolidated their gear and gave us a dry corner of the shelter. What a treat, to eat breakfast without water drops plopping into my raisins! By the time we finished eating, the downpour had lessened to a small pattering, and I was ready to set off into the drizzle.

We hiked 15 miles today, through clearing skies, then lowering clouds and incredibly heavy humidity. Wallkill River National Wildlife Refuge was a treat – two miles of level grassy trail circumnavigating ponds and marsh where ducks and egrets happily enjoyed the weather.

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From there the trail gradually climbed 1,300 feet in elevation to a tower at High Point State Park, the highest point in New Jersey at 1,803 feet. There is an obelisk built as a war memorial in 1930, about three-tenths mile off the AT. It was late afternoon, and I was reluctant to take the side trail. But a wooden viewing platform right on the AT, at 1,700 feet, gave an even more expansive view. Clouds hovered just above us, enabling us to enjoy a sweeping panorama of the surrounding countryside encompassing three states, New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania.

Though we were able to shed rain gear for the afternoon, our feet squelched wetly the whole day. Saturated socks began rubbing blisters. I was delighted to reach the High Point State Park Headquarters and call a shuttle to take us to a hostel, Mosey’s Place. What a treat, to end such a beautiful but wet day with dry clothes and a dry place to sleep. As I snuggled into the bunk bed at the hostel, and heard the rain begin again, I knew that I was a very lucky woman!

Stairway to Heaven

October 7, 2017

This morning we crossed from New York into New Jersey! We have now completed 12 of the 14 states which host the Appalachian Trail. Only two more states to go!

About lunch time, we arrived at the top of Wawayanda Mountain. We had encountered no hikers all morning, hiking through quiet forest. At the top of the mountain, a family was eating lunch. Jay and I decided to take our noon meal a little further, to a viewpoint. When we arrived at the turn-off to the view, through the trees we could hear a sizeable group of people laughing and talking. We decided not to crowd in on the party, and went on. Suddenly, the trail narrowed and dived over a rock ledge. We looked over the edge to see a whole stream of people coming up the mountainside! Unbeknownst to us, we had arrived at the Stairway to Heaven, an extremely popular day hike for New Jersey locals. A quiet lunch was definitely out of the question. We cheerfully opened our food bags on the rocky ledge, and prepared to enjoy the living torrent of humanity ascending the mountain.

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We talked to many people as we ate lunch, then continued to talk as we descended the trail. Most of the hikers we met did not notice our packs, and assumed that we were day hikers like themselves. “How much further?” was a common question. But since we had ascended the opposite side of the mountain, we had no idea of the length of this stone staircase!

“You’ve got a bit of a ways to go,” I told one questing hiker. She laughed, and continued. But I thought of my answer, and realized it was a typical southernism. In the south, distance often is described in rather general terms. “A right far piece” is much longer than “a good ways”, which in turn is farther than “a bit”, with “spitting distance” being quite close.

The trail was so narrow, we often had to take turns as we descended, stepping off the trail to let ascending hikers pass. By the time we reached the bottom, we had probably seen over 200 people!

About halfway down, Jay mused, “If we’re descending the Stairway to Heaven, where do you think we will end up?”

Where did we end? In Pochuck Swamp, with Pochuck Suspension Bridge crossing Pochuck River. The bridge is an amazing bit of engineering, a huge suspension bridge set down in the middle of the swamp, just for crossing the river by foot! A large trail crew had torn up much of the boardwalk before the bridge. But it has been so dry lately, it was easy to walk beside that section of the boards. It was a truly lovely three miles, with long walkways winding past fall flowers, cattails gone to seed, rushes above our heads. I kind of hated for it to end! It was a beautiful section of New Jersey, like nothing else on the whole Appalachian Trail.