As if we had an alarm clock, everyone in the church basement seemed to awaken at the same time this morning. Before long, we were all busily preparing for another day on the trail. As they did yesterday evening, Radio, Dirty Duck, and Shlog prepared food, which they shared with everyone. We ate well as we again sat around the ping pong table.
When Stick and I left our motel in Carlisle this morning, we weren’t sure what to expect from this day. We weren’t even sure how far we would hike. Maybe we’d push hard and go into Duncannon, or maybe we’d go easy and take a nero there tomorrow. The only expectation I had was that Duncannon was not going to be much of a town, so it didn’t matter to me if I got there early or not.
Since passing the halfway point on Day 84 I am now closer to Mt. Katahdin than I am Springer Mountain. Yet still, I don’t feel that much closer to Maine. It’s an odd feeling, which I think has more to do with the days, weeks and months that remain, compared to the total number of miles I still have to walk. It still feels daunting, but a little less so. Each day adds a little more confidence for successfully completing my hike. It’s still not a sure thing, and won’t be until I finish, but I know my odds are getting better.
There’s not much done on the Appalachian Trail that’s done in small measure. Even marking the halfway point isn’t simply a matter of taking the length of the trail, dividing by two and putting a small marker by the trail. It's done in multiple places and by following various traditions. A few days ago I passed through Harpers Ferry, known as the psychological halfway point. I crossed the official halfway point yesterday. Today would bring me to two more halfway points and more ways to celebrate the milestone.
I’ve spent many years thinking about and planning for this hike. As of today, I have completed half of it. Despite all of the time I've spent researching, following blogs, and watching videos of other hikers, I’m discovering surprising moments on my hike I could not have anticipated. These unexpected moments are usually small, but they help to make my hike especially fun and meaningful. Today was filled with such moments.
We didn’t quite get the logistics right for last night’s town stop. After arriving at the motel at 5 p.m., we had enough time to shower, eat dinner, and purchase food for the next section, but not for doing laundry. Thanks to Stick’s willingness to stay up late, the laundry got done, but there was one other task that had to be deferred to this morning.
Thru-hikers like to invent games and “challenges”. For example, there’s the Four State Challenge, which involves hiking from Virginia, through West Virginia and Maryland, before reaching Pennsylvania. To complete this you hike 44 miles in under 24 hours. A slightly shortened version of that is the Maryland Challenge, which covers 41 miles from state line to state line. Is that too tame for you? Then try the Rocky’s Pizza Challenge, which starts from Curley Maple Gap Shelter in Tennessee. Within two hours you must race down the mountain to the town of Erwin, order two large pizzas at a local pizza shop, run next door to the liquor store and buy a case of beer, then haul the pizza and beer the five miles back up to the shelter.
Day 81, Dahlgren Backpack Campground to Ensign Cowall Shelter
I'm a sleepy time baby, a sleepy time boy
I was wondering if it had been unkind of Stick and me to push as hard and far as we did yesterday. We’ve been hiking nearly every day for more than 1,000 miles, but Ralph just got on the trail. Then I saw him shimmy up a bear pole last night and decided there was no reason to feel sorry for him.
Leaving Kim this morning in Harpers Ferry was entirely different than when I left her nearly three months ago on Springer Mountain. Instead of cold and rain, it was a warm and sunny day. Instead of being alone, my longtime friend, Ralph, and my new friend, Stick, were with me. Instead of being untested, I had a body that had become well-conditioned over more than 1,000 miles of walking. And instead of a small measure of uncertainty of what was ahead for me, I now had clear focus and a committed expectation I could, barring injury, reach Mt. Katahdin.
Today was supposed to be a zero day. In a strict definition of the term, as in a day of zero hiking miles, it was that. But zero miles was certainly not the number put on my truck today.
This was a significant day. It was obviously going to be a big day because I would be seeing my wife for the first time in a month. What’s more, I presumed this would be the last time I would see her for a much longer time. Most likely, I will not see her again until after I finish my hike in Maine. This was also when we reach what’s often called the psychological halfway point of the Appalachian Trail. The true midpoint will still be about 72 miles away. Nevertheless, it’s now starting to feel like we are closer to Maine than we are Georgia. I thought about this as Stick and I walked to Harpers Ferry this morning, but the true significance of the day hadn’t registered with me yet. That would come later.
Day 77, Sam Moore Shelter to David Lesser Memorial Shelter
And you know, it makes me wonder what's going on under the ground
I feel like I’ve been dragging a bit this week. I’m not sure I have an excuse for my lethargy, though. The trail hasn’t been especially rugged or difficult. The weather has been warm, but not especially hot. Oh, wait. Maybe I do have an excuse. In the last three weeks I’ve walked 290 miles with only one nero day and no zeros. That’s an average of nearly 14 miles a day without a break.
Thanks to the nearby squeaky tree, last night didn’t provide the best night’s sleep I ever had. The breeze that caused the squeakiness provided one benefit, though, and that was to make the night pleasantly cool. To mitigate the reduced amount of sleep, Stick and I slept in later than normal. It wasn’t something we discussed or planned, but it worked out that way and neither one of us complained.
Leaving Front Royal, Stick and I will have 53 miles to go to reach Harpers Ferry. These are the last miles of Virginia, which I entered on Day 36. As I stood at the Tennessee-Virginia state line, I thought about the “Virginia blues” and wondered if it would affect me. That's what some thru-hikers call a depression that supposedly sets in as they walk the long miles of this state. Now, as I near the end I ask myself if I have felt the blues. “Meh, not really.”
The siren call of food and beer was playing loudly in my head this morning when I awoke. We were leaving Shenandoah National Park and heading to Front Royal, Va. today, and I didn’t want anything to deter or delay us. Rain had fallen earlier this morning, around 2 a.m., then began again around 5 a.m. as I was waking up. Fortunately, the second rain shower didn’t last long and was finished by the time I exited my tent.