Days 94-100: Rocksylvania

Day 94. July 15th: Eagle’s Next Shelter to Port Clinton Pavilion – 9.0 miles

It’s a quick 9-mile hike into Port Clinton. The trail goes straight through town nestled alongside the river, but besides a few small shops, most of the businesses in this area have moved out to Hamburg, near the interstate. Still, the town provides a pavilion where hikers can sleep, and a rotation of churches and other community organizations ensure frequent trail magic. When we arrive, there are boxes of junk food and bottles of soda and hotel-sized toiletries scattered about the picnic tables. A few other thru-hikers are there, along with a man in a hammock who seems to be a permanent installation.

On the highway just north of the river, we attempt to hitchhike. We smile at the drivers, sure to position our packs and poles nearby so that it’s clear that we’re AT hikers. The sun is bright and hot, and we wait for a long time before a bounty hunter in a yellow VW Beetle picks us up and we squeeze into the tiny car.

Hitchhiking. It’s always an adventure.

The man takes us to Wendy’s, and then we walk across the busy highway to the world’s largest Cabela’s. I have never seen anything like it. It’s like an REI combined with a tourist-trap museum combined with an aquarium. It dwarfs the largest super Walmart I’ve ever seen. Etienne and I both buy new hiking shirts that are on sale, experimenting with long-sleeve button-down shirts to fend off the bugs and sun. Afterward, we cross the enormous parking lot to resupply at Walmart, and once again we have a difficult time hitchhiking back to town, even in our nice new button-downs. But eventually, a friendly couple swerves through traffic to pull over, and they take us back to Port Clinton.

Day 95. July 16th: Port Clinton to Eckville Shelter – 14.8 miles

The next morning, we stop by the local barbershop, run by an older man who is an avid hiker and supporter of the AT. He has free coffee and snacks. For any male hiker who elects not to take a no-shave thru-hike, the Port Clinton barbershop is a popular place to get cleaned up. I sit and browse the shop’s small library of well-used paperbacks while Etienne gets a haircut and emerges looking like an entirely different person. We joke about how much easier it will be to hitchhike now, but instead of going back into town, we strap on our packs and get moving.

We see another rattlesnake today, the biggest one yet. It spans the full width of the trail, soaking up the sunlight. As we approach, it rattles, but then slowly moves across the trail. I am fascinated by how the rattlesnakes move. It’s not the S-shaped motion that we usually associate with a snake’s slither. Instead, the snake slides off the trail in a straight line, like a slow-moving, diamond-patterned train.

Day 96. July 17th: Eckville Shelter to Allentown Shelter – 7.3 miles

It’s hot the next day, and I’m feeling tired and lazy. Eventually I convince Etienne that we should nero in the hopes that Rob, Ash, and Greg will catch us. To our delight, they do. When they approach, I sit back in the shelter out of sight, to see if they even recognize Etienne in his new bright blue shirt and without three months of hair and beard. Greg approaches first, who only met Etienne briefly, and he doesn’t recognize him at all until Ashley arrives, does a double-take, and starts laughing.

It’s good to be with our friends again.

Day 97. July 18th: Allentown Shelter to Outerbridge Shelter – 16 miles

Day 98. July 19th: Outerbridge Shelter to Wind Gap – 22 miles

On Day 98, I wake up early. We’re climbing up from Lehigh Gap today, the steepest climb yet, and I’m worried about being too slow. My fear of heights and the growing ache in my knee have been slowing me down whenever the trail requires us to scramble.

I leave camp before anyone else, and I reach the bridge across the Lehigh River alone. Once across the bridge, the trail follows the road to a traffic light to cross, then backtracks until it veers into the woods. After just a few minutes in the trees, I reach the climb. For the first time on the trail, this is going to require both of my hands for more than a moment at a time. I collapse my poles, strap them to my pack, and start climbing.

It’s scary, but fun. A more confident hiker might be able to do most of it upright, but I cling to the rocks like a barnacle with all four appendages, only cautiously moving one at a time, refusing to look out into the open space behind me. I’m glad I left ahead of everyone so that I can take my time and not feel rushed or embarrassed about my fear, because as much as my heart is hammering, it’s not that bad. It would be treacherous in wet weather, but on a dry, sunny morning like this, the chance of an accident is slim.

Looking back down the climb from the river.

I whoop when I reach the top, and I can see the Lehigh River extend in both directions as I straddle the ridge. I can see Etienne, Rob, Ash, and Greg on the bridge far below, only identifiable by the color of their clothes. I rest for a while, feeling accomplished. Once I get moving again, it’s not long before the others catch me. Together, we traverse a hot, dry plateau. Our water bottles are running low by the time we arrive in Wind Gap that evening, 22 miles later. We hitchhike into town. Before he drops us off at MacDonald’s, the driver tells us that the local bar allows hikers to camp out back for a small fee, so we decide to do that.

It’s dark by the time we arrive on foot at the bar. Ash waits outside with underage Greg while Rob, Etienne, and I go inside to order beers and ask about camping.

“Who keeps telling people that?” the bartender asks, slightly irritated. “We had to stop doing that years ago.”

Uh oh. We glance at each other. It’s late to try to hitch back to the trail or to book a hotel room.

A man looks up at us from the bar. “How many of you are there?” he asks.

“Five.” We point through the window to Ashley and Greg outside with the packs.

“You guys got tents?”

We nod.

“You can camp in my yard. I live up there by the trail.”

We exchange looks. The man seems nice enough, and we don’t have a lot of options. Tentatively, we agree and thank the man for his offer. He introduces himself as Tony, and he gives us his address. Sure enough, Google maps shows that his house is less than a mile away, back in the direction of the trail.

Tony finishes one beer and orders another. “I’ll drive you all back there in my truck after I finish my next one.”

We hesitate again. This man seems like he’s already been in this bar for… a while.

We yawn pointedly and tell him that we walked 22 miles today and want to get to bed. We can walk to his house and set up in his yard if that’s okay with him.

“Sure, that’s fine. Just be careful, I have an 80-pound pit bull,” he says as we pay our tab and get up to leave. “But he probably won’t bother you.”

I gulp. This is going to be fine.

We pick up our packs and start down the road. In a group of five, I’m not truly worried that anything bad is going to happen to us, but there’s no way on earth I’d be doing something like this by myself. Google leads us to a small house with a large, grassy yard bordered by some dense woods. Wary of the dog, we cross the yard and pitch our tents at the edge of the trees. I’m in my sleeping bag by the time I hear the truck pull up and a dog barking, but the pit bull does not come near our tents.

Eventually, I’m too exhausted to be uneasy, and I fall asleep.

Day 99. July 20th: Wind Gap to Delaware Water Gap – 15 miles

In the morning, our gracious host lets us inside to use his bathroom, and we meet the pit bull, who turns out to be sweet and mellow. He’s as massive as we were warned, but chubby and geriatric, and he picks his way through the grass with comical delicacy.

“What’s his name?” I ask.

“Tony,” answers Tony. We stare at him. “Yeah, my ex-girlfriend got him for me, and she decided to name him after me. I call him Tone.”

Tone wanders over to our gear and sniffs it curiously.

We give our dewy tents some time to dry in the morning sun, and then we thank Tony for his generosity and pack up to leave. As odd as the circumstances were, he saved us a lot of hassle the night before.

We bid Tony and Tone goodbye and walk back to the AT.

Surely NJ won’t have rocks like this, right?

Once on the trail, it’s a rocky 15 miles into Delaware Water Gap, where we camp outside the church hostel and celebrate Greg’s birthday at a local restaurant. That night, clouds gather, and the rain pours for the first time in two weeks.

Day 100. July 21st: Zero in DWG

We zero the next day to give our sore feet the chance to recover from Rocksylvania. That night, we sleep on the floor inside the church basement because the forecast is calling for another steady downpour. We’ve been on trail for 100 days. Tomorrow morning, we will cross into New Jersey.