Eating Elephants

Who would’ve thought that hikers have beach days on the Appalachian Trail? I can tell you I certainly wasn’t expecting to unravel my rain poncho, sprawling it onto a pitch of sand. For all intended purposes of my massive red Mackintosh, I can’t say I’ve ever seen one used as a beach towel before. However, myself as well as four other hikers, managed to squeeze our butts onto one. As we rolled our feet through the sand and swam in Fuller Lake at Pine Grove Furnace State Park, a beach day was unraveling to be a wise decision, by comparison to hiking 15 miles in the scolding heat of Pennsylvania.

With the State Park being the home of the infamous “half gallon” challenge, the general store decommissions most hikers from the trail, slumping them into a lactose coma. If you’re wondering what the “half gallon” challenge is, it’s a task where hikers have to eat a half gallon of ice cream of their choosing! There’s no time limit to it, with the only goal being to spoon down a quart and a pint, as if we don’t put our bodies through enough torture with the trek itself. Of course, this was a challenge I could not pass up and after about an hour of shoveling ice cream down my gullet I finished my quart of moose tracks, topping it off with a pint of Hershey’s banana pudding. That was my dinner for the evening after a 17 mile stroll, so I booked a stay at Ironmasters Mansion Hostel, which evidently was also an Appalachian Trail Museum! Sorry to the poor folks who entered the premises expecting a tour but received an awful waft of hiker stench instead. With the next morning coming too soon, as they always do, I lazily got ready to set out on the trail and didn’t actually leave the hostel until around 11:00. My plan was to go down to the general store and devour a couple burgers before I set out for the day. Making my way down, I ran into a couple hikers whom I’ve grown fond of in the couple days we hung out together, Whitman and Soundbite! Whitman, attempting the same challenge I had the day before, finished his half gallon of ice cream and then proceeded to order a burger which I thought was hilarious! “Hey man, we’re having a beach day today as well if you want to join us!” Whitman relayed to me. “Naw I think I’m going to try and click off about 15 miles today man”.

Our appetites were satisfied with burgers and fries. The longer I sat and shot the shit with them, the harder it was becoming to muster up the motivation for a hike. I acceded to the peer pressure of a beach day and it slowly turned into one of my best days on trail. Shortly after I sat down to join the two for burgers it wasn’t long after that more familiar faces joined the party. In the crowd of hikers that pulled up a chair, Mimic, who is close friends to Soundbite, and her boyfriend were among the group. After we finished our food we slowly sauntered over to the beach area: Mimic and her boyfriend, Soundbite and Whitman and myself. I was surrounded by strangers who quickly grew into the only company I could imagine myself with on that day. We spoke of the trail, joked of Whitmans lack of summer camp and beach days as a child, and were probably the rowdiest group on the beach that day! We topped off the evening with a group trip to chilis, sipping on margaritas and cheep beer. Whitman, Soundbite and myself hiked about 2 miles and set up camp on the side of the trail, capping the day off with a bonfire before cashing out in our tents.

Fast forward a couple days, gaining the knowledge that the upcoming miles would be smooth and cruisey, I began the morning by sleeping in until 9:00 and waking up with massive bags under my eyes. I’ve developed a taste for stopping into cafes that are close to the trail. Boiling springs unveiled a great shop to get me hopped up and ready to hike; caffe 101. I sat down outside in solitude and was soon joined by a fellow hiker I had met not 15 minutes prior. His trail name, Wilder!

“Mind if I join yah?”

“Please, be my guest man!”

As the coffee was flowing, the conversation that ensued had an elegant flow about it for at least an hour. I felt intellectually stimulated with the sensation of curiosity as to ask him about his story. He had told me that his name came from early on when he was doing the PCT (pacific crest trail) and a heavy set woman had been flirting with him, coining him as a Gene Wilder doppelgänger. The story was hilarious! A great deal of many other topics were discussed during that conversation and our paths would only cross once more at a hostile in Duncannon, Pennsylvania as we attempted to escape the smoke from the Canadian Wildfires.

I knew that hostile would be the last time I would see Wilder, the lad is doing 25 miles or more every day. With this being his third thru hike, he’s had the opportunity to develop trail legs and to complete a great deal of gear testing, narrowing his pack down to a base weight of 8 pounds. Absolutely stunning! As I progressed through the coming days, sticking to my 15 mile per day pace, I found a log that Wilder posted in the 501 Shelter near Pine Grove and Bethel Pennsylvania. It’s proclamation, “Be Excellent to Everyone!” Reflecting on our conversation at caffe 101, I couldn’t help but be grateful to have met Wilder, not knowing that those words would stick with me, engrained as an ethos.

That night at the 501 shelter we were presented with the opportunity to order delivery from a local pizza store. When I tell you that town food seems as if it’s the best food we’ve ever had, I believe I can share that opinion with almost every thru hiker on trail. Free food is wildly accepted as well among the community…

The next day as I had departed the 501 shelter, I made a call to my mother who’s voice was comforting to just hear as we spoke of a package that I needed delivered to me. It’s funny how as kids and even as adults our mothers can come through for us on our worst days because man that day quickly turned into one of my hardest hikes on trail. As Pennsylvania had been experiencing a drought, I could feel the rain was gearing up and preparing to bring an onslaught to the wide array of rocks in this rugged state. Sure enough, the rain amounted by the inches that day, leaving me feeling as if I would never be dry again! (Surprisingly I only fell twice through the entirety of Pennsylvania)

I had no choice that day but to just put my head down and stare at my feet. “Focus! Where is your next step? Alright this rock is sturdy, take it.” Eating was difficult that day. For the same red poncho that granted us such a great beach day is also my overall shell for when the sky really opens up. To be honest there was only one phrase that stuck in my head that day; “FUCK THIS”! Slowly but surely I made my way to the next shelter that was 15 miles up the path. There were four hikers in the shelter: Granny Square, Foxy, Poppins and her pup. “That was actual misery!” We spoke of the day but with the morals sunken so low, not much was said. I can recall falling asleep while constantly waking up to check my gear that was sporadically hung up around the Lean To.

The next morning came and as everyone had begun rounding everything up, preparing for the hike, my weary body felt the need to sleep for a couple more hours. I had heard a cough coming from outside the shelter. A deep bellow like a males cough. I looked at foxy and asked her if someone was outside and she told me that there was another hiker who pitched his tent up at 1:00 the day before, beating the first drops of rain to fall that day. Everyone was gearing up and I was going to be the last to leave, or so I thought.

About an hour passed after the ladies had all left and I finally felt compelled enough to set out for the day. As I rattled around and slunk out of my sleeping bag, this guy with three quarter pants, massive headphones muffed over his ears and slicked back hair comes walking around with a cigarette in his mouth. He sat down at the picnic table prepping his stove to cook his breakfast. My first thought was to ponder whether or not he was squatting at this shelter. “Be Excellent to Everyone!” The ethos awoke in me and I struck up a conversation with the man, who on any ordinary day back in Muskegon, I would have looked at as someone without a home. We were intertwined with fantastic verbal exchanges for an hour and he told me about his first time he decided to walk into the woods. He went to the 501 shelter and they sent him on his way, acting on what my premature predetermination had submitted about the guy. “You’re no hiker…”

“The next day man I tell you what, I looked in a hiker box and found a shirt, some shorts and a perfect size 8 boots to fit my feet!” I reeled in the darkness of the shelter trying to conceal the redness in my eyes. “I kept hiking man, not long after a random guy gave me an old school Kelty Backpack!” The same Kelty backpack he would carry for 14 years until I met him on that day. “I’ll get to Maine someday, and this pack is getting me there!” We spoke of New York and how I had contemplated on taking the New Jersey Transit into the city. He told me a story of how he was able to get a ride into New York from the trail and go see a concert with his friends. “Yeah man I would love to do that but it’s probably best that I don’t go into the city, I would probably spend way too much!” We shot the shit and he went to his tent for a brief moment grabbing a 20 dollar bill and walking over to me with it. “Here man, I wish you the best of luck on your hike!” I couldn’t refute this man whom at first I thought had not a single penny to his name. “Dude are you serious?” He wouldn’t take no as an answer so I took the $20 and told him I’d buy a Jägerbomb shot at a bar in New York, one of his favorite shots that his kids got him hooked on. I asked him before I left, “do you feel like you were meant to do this, to be out here?” He smiled at me. “Man I’m home!”

This strangers trail name was Little Hawk. His name has been written on the same 20 dollar bill he gave me, awaiting that day when I can walk into a bar in New York and think “thanks Little Hawk!”

It’s as my friend Whitman had realized on the side porch of Deer Head Inn in Delaware Water Gap as we listened to a great Jazz Pianist stroke the keys, “We’re all on level playing fields out here man!”