The End of the Beginning.

Some news:

I am now more than halfway done with the AT. The beginning has ended.

It definitely feels good to have made it this far, but there is still a long way to go. Yet the other half will be spent in south, and the majority of the remaining trail will be spent in my home state. I have heard many Northbounders complain of the "Virginia blues," or the maddening boredom and monotony that allegedly comes with hiking through all 555 miles of Virginia's share of the AT. Yet I am not afraid of this one bit.

Sure, I might get bored. But then all I have to do is make some phone calls and see if any of my dear friends scattered in various parts of the state would like to come hang out with me at my next stopping point, wherever that might be. At any given point on the trail in VA, my friends/family are simply a drive away. Not to mention my lovely girlfriend; I fully intend to see her before I leave the state as well.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, I haven't reached Virginia yet. I'll pick up where my last post left off:

I was in PA. While I did end up taking 6 days off from the trail for my grandmother's funeral, the days of rest were well spent and, despite the circumstances, I had a blast hanging out with my family. Then, once the funeral was over and ensuing administrative arrangements were concluded, I got back on the trail in Hamburg. Lucky for me, it was a weekend, and my parents had no immediate plans the following day. They agreed to give me a "slack pack" (Practice by which a hiker temporarily leaves the majority of his/her gear with a third party at the start of a day and hikes with only what they will need for the immediate future, recovering their gear from the third party later when they are done hiking; this allows for a considerably lighter load and faster mileage.) for the day, and meet up with me for dinner that evening.

I really appreciated the slack, but directing them to where I was at the end of the day was a bit of a challenge. Often times, the trail crosses roads in the middle of nowhere. There are no immediate buildings to the left or right, and so the trail effectively has no address. Which, in terms of vehicular GPS navigation, means that the AT simply does not exist. Therefore, at the end of my slack when I needed to call my parents to get picked up, I could not readily give an address to plug into the GPS.

So I started walking down the road. Luckily, my iPhone could get service, so I decided to head towards the nearest intersection. Some GPS devices can navigate by intersections, and it was also equally likely that there would be buildings or driveways nearby the intersection which would have addresses.

My hunch played out. But I got lucky...the only reason I could give my parents an address was because the people who own this mailbox were smart enough to write it on the side:

Once I relayed the address to my parents, I got picked up in about 15 minutes, and had a delicious dinner at a diner in Pine Grove, PA.

The following day, I hiked 18 miles. And then the hurricane hit.

Lucky for me, I was already inside a shelter when the wind started to pick up. And not only that, but it was a stone shelter built into the side of a small hill. The structure provided good cover from the hurricane. The only issue was that it was a typical AT shelter; walls only on 3 sides. As a precaution to keep from getting soaked, I pitched my tent inside the shelter with the rain fly up; it turned out to be a great decision.

I had never seen a storm so powerful. Huge trees swayed and bent like blades of grass on a windy day. The shelter got pounded all night; loose rocks, tree branches, assorted other debris, whatever the wind could carry. It was simply incredible.

The wind and rain kept up from mid afternoon to mid-morning the following day. I typically get up at 6 to get ready to start hiking, but once I got up and took one look outside, I immediately went back to bed. The storm was letting up, but it was by no means over. And I had no intention of happily hiking along only to get crushed by a toppling tree.

By 9 AM, the worst of the storm had passed. I got up and inspected the damage to the shelter.

Not too bad. Great shelter.

With the hurricane threat now averted, I hiked on, eventually making it to Duncannon, PA.

Duncannon has always been one of those places on the trail that is steeped in tradition. The trail passes directly through it, so hikers are a common sight to the townsfolk and everyone is hiker friendly. A welcome change from the "posh" and snobby air of towns like Kent.

Duncannon is also home to "The Doyle." Once an Anheuser Busch Hotel of long ago (yes, such things did exist) it has since been converted to a hiker hostel/hangout spot.

And talk about hiker friendly

You can't beat those drink prices anywhere. And the food was delicious. Not to mention the fact that as soon as I walked in with my pack I was greeted with drunken cheering by the locals, even though they had never met me and had no clue who I was.

Everyone's heard of biker bars...but HIKER bars?

Definitely a new concept for me, too.

Yet aside from The Doyle, the town of Duncannon boasts some other trail attractions as well. Such as a strip club. And yes, it is DIRECTLY on the trail.

And across the street:

Duncannon, PA. Servicing all your basic human needs since God knows when.
But a less absurd attraction: the views from the mountains above the town.

Nice views, yes. Nice shelter, no.

I read through the trail register when I arrived (I decided not to stay at The Doyle since I had heard rumors of a REALLY nice 'hostel' in the next town over in Boiling Springs, PA) and read countless entries about a porcupine that would come into the shelter in the middle of the night and start gnawing away at the bunks and the wood flooring (the salt from sweat soaks into the wood; porcupines love the salt), making a racket and stealing sleep from any unfortunate hiker stuck in the shelter. According to the register, all attempts to shoo it away using trekking poles/sticks/rocks consistently failed...the porcupine would simply climb up into the rafters where nobody could get to it and gnaw away all night long.

I decided I wasn't going to let that happen to me. Time to make some weapons.

With the hurricane recently blown through, I had my pick of downed trees to scavenge wood from. I strolled around the shelter looking for the perfect tree branch. I finally found one.

I then stripped away the excess foliage, leaving only the branch itself.

Then, after some careful rope work, I had the finished product:

Behold: an anti-porcupine device. Also known as a bow. Quick and dirty, but hey, I wasn't about to hunt big game with it, and I only needed to hit a target less than 10 yards away. Looked good to me.

The arrow was also a quick and dirty job. I left the tip dull...After all, I didn't want to flat out KILL the porcupine, just send it a message. The kind of message that only an object traveling at 180 feet per second can deliver.

I set the bow and arrow (only had time to make one arrow) by my bunk, and went to sleep. I ultimately wasn't sure if I would have to use it, but if I did, I would be ready.

Sure enough, I awoke at 4 AM to what sounded like someone chiseling away at a log. I turned on my headlamp, and was greeted by this sight:

I switched my lamp to the brightest setting, and shined it directly at the porcupine. It moved away into the dark corner of the shelter. I shined the light on it again, although when I did I also shed light on my pack, which was sitting against the wall a few feet away. The porcupine took interest, and began to move towards it.

"NO!"

I shouted in a stern voice, similar to one you would use to address a disobedient dog.

It moved back a little bit, but kept staring at my pack. Then began to inch closer to it again.

"Alright, you had your chance."

I got up, grabbed my bow, knocked the arrow, and took aim.

The porcupine paid me no notice, and continued to mosey across the shelter towards my pack.

I stifled a laugh. It had absolutely no idea what was about to happen to it. In the never-ending conflict of Man vs Wild, Wild was about to meet Man.

I fired.

The arrow bounced off the porcupine's side. It reeled backward, then stumbled as quickly as it could away from my pack and out of the shelter. I was shooting at a distance of 6 feet and at a downward angle; I can only imagine being hit with a narrow, blunt object at that velocity really, really hurts.

Man-1, Wild-0.

I recovered my arrow, and went back to bed. Yet I awoke a short time later. Something else sounded like it was inside the shelter.

Sure enough, there was. Although this little guy wasn't really bent on doing any damage. I watched him for several minutes...he was using my pack like a jungle gym, climbing up and down the straps and over the top and back down again. I guess that's a fun thing for a woodland rodent to do at 5 in the morning?

"Sorry buddy, but you can't hang out here."

I tapped him with my trekking pole, and he scurried off.

I definitely missed out on sleep that night. But all would be made better by the 'hostel' in Boiling Springs. Mainly because the 'hostel' turned out to be a full fledged resort complete with a playhouse. It's only referred to as a hostel because they have hiker rates. Ridiculously low ones.

My hiker accommodations included my own room in this lodge house

Access to a pool and hot tub

And a delicious on-site restaurant.

All for around $40 a night. PLUS they give you a 15% discount on your first return trip as a non-hiker.

I booked a second night immediately. This was a zero day opportunity I couldn't pass up. Over the course of this trip, I have paid more money to stay in worse places.

It was definitely hard to leave, but once I was back on the trail, I was happy to be there. After a few hours of walking, I made it to Pine Grove Furnace State Park and went to try my hand at the half gallon challenge.

Because Pine Grove Furnace is essentially the halfway point for the AT, tradition mandates that upon reaching this location, a hiker must purchase a half gallon of whatever ice cream flavor suits their fancy from the general store and then proceed to eat it in one sitting. Those who succeed are inducted into the prestigious "Half Gallon Club" and are permitted to sign the store's historic register.

While I initially wanted to choose cookie dough for my ice cream, I knew better. I had been warned by several Northbounders that the trick to succeeding was to "go simple." I decided instead on Chocolate Swirl.

I set to work. As I ate, the store clerk, whom was rather bored, came outside and talked with me a while. She knew a lot about the state park, and so I was able to learn a great deal about the historic Pine Grove Furnace (will not bore you with details, but definitely worth a google). One particularly interesting fact, though, is that she said the mansion at the far end of the property was once a station on the underground railroad, and there was a secret room inside where they hid escaping slaves. I made a mental note to check it out.

And before I knew it, I was done with the whole half gallon.

I signed the store register, thanked the store clerk, and headed over to the mansion-turned-museum. Sure enough, there was a secret room:

Pretty neat.

Then from Pine Grove Furnace, it was on to the halfway point, and more importantly today, the Mason Dixon Line (MD/PA border):

I'm currently at a hostel about 10 miles into Maryland right now, but I plan to be in West Virginia in 2 Days, and Virginia in 3. It'll sure feel great to get back to the Old Dominion. With any luck, it will be three months exactly from my start date when I cross the border.

The end has begun. It's about time.