501 Shelter 1196.4 to Port Clinton, PA 1220 (23.6 miles, 194.6 total miles)
Last night was the new record for worst sleep on the trail for me. In an enclosed space, with just about everyone snoring very loudly, even with earplugs it was hard to fall asleep and stay asleep. I was up at 4:30 and when people started getting up to start their day a little after I was quick to join.
The early risers were Trillium, Goofy, Professor and myself. I was the last leaving, I made a hot coffee with instant breakfast mixed in to treat myself.
I was planning on doing the 23.6 into Port Clinton to meet with my former coworker and friend, Ray and his wife Michele, who had very generously offered to put me up for the night in their home and let me wash my stinky hiker clothes. There were a few roads before town I could bail out to early that they could pick me up at if I got too tired.
I was dragging starting the day. I felt off, a little nauseous and just exhausted. I hadn’t gotten the good night of sleep I needed after hiking 22 miles the day before.
I met another hiker named Professor K, different from the Professor of last night. He is also a flip flopper, and started south of where I did, in Virginia. I don’t remember exactly where in VA, but I had started in southern VA my first attempt so we talked a little about our experiences so far while we filtered water at the first source.
It was an absolutely beautiful day with vibrant blue skies making all the greenery glow. I noticed up here how some of the plants hadn’t bloomed yet like they had further south, and reflected how hiking north is like time traveling backward.
I saw Trouble, she had camped about four miles north of me, near the “1200” mile marker. She was tired, too, and I let her hike ahead of me. I saw a couple other hikers that I didn’t talk to, and a few going south as well on sections or day hikes.
The terrain was touch and go, as all of PA seems to have been so far. Some rocks, and lots of nice spots, too. There were a lot of wide open forest areas, a few rhododendron tunnels, and a couple road crossings and other trail junctions. Not much had changed since the day before.
I had decided to just go straight to Eagle’s Nest Shelter for lunch, instead of taking any breaks first, just to conserve time. It ended up taking longer because I had to go slower to protect my feet, so I still ended up 2mph for the 15 miles there, plus .3 to the shelter, so it was 1pm when I arrived.
At two miles before the shelter, I was really tired, so I ate some chocolate and finally put on some music. I had just gotten done listening to a comedy podcast as well. The only listening I’ve done while hiking was the other day with some Harry Potter audiobook for a couple miles, and today with the podcast. I was aiming for a month without media, but two weeks didn’t seem terrible to me. It’s important to me to be flexible when I can.
Once I put the music on, everything changed. I was using wired earbuds, which really do sound better than my AirPods as I’d heard said before, and the music slapped. It just hit different, finally hearing it after so long.
I zoomed down the trail, passing Trouble up ahead and an older male hiker. The last two miles flew by, then a very long .3 to the shelter for lunch, where I found the other three hikers and a hiker named Cobra who had been in 501 last night with us. No one slept well last night with the snoring and the creaky door that kept opening and closing with people going in and out.
I had some tuna with tortillas, and noticed there was a wicked descent down into Port Clinton, right at the end of my planned hike. A very steep drop of about 1,000 feet in two miles. Not usually a big deal, but with the extra mileage to the shelter, it could be potentially unsafe to try to take 21 miles into the day and not having slept enough the night before.
I messaged Ray that the road two miles before would be perfect. Goofy, Professor, Trillium, and Cobra were laying down for cat naps when I reluctantly headed back to the trail. A nap would have been amazing, I could feel how tired I was. I am too slow of a hiker still for a nap on a bigger mile day, so I pushed on, the thought of a shower and laundry later keeping me going.
I was impressed that I had made it 15 miles without a real break, and my feet were holding up admirably all thing considered. The .3 back to the trail went quick, and I collected half a liter of water on my way out.
The day was still absolutely perfect, there wasn’t even any humidity in the air for the first time I could remember so far. The trail switched between rocks and flat again and again. On the one steep uphill of the day I felt stronger, so I texted Ray I might go all the way to Port Clinton instead of the road before. He was graciously fine with either option.
I kept my music on after lunch, to keep myself motivated to continue hiking on. The others caught up with me after about four miles, deciding to push on to a further campsite. They passed me, then I saw them stopped at a spring up ahead. The spring apparently required some “potentially hazardous” rock scrambling to get to. They had enough water for camp between them, and I wasn’t taking any more side excursions for the day.
Up ahead, I saw them making camp, and told them I was going to push on to town. Goofy was kind enough to offer me half a liter of her water to take. I had only a few sips left, and about four miles to go still. That water would end up being the perfect amount to get me to town without being dehydrated. It was trail magical.
On the rocky sections, I would slow way down. When my feet start hurting now, I slow way down, and wait for my energy to recuperate. Then I go fast again. In that fashion, I made my way to the steep downhill into town, as the trail vacillated between perfect terrain and big rock fields.
I had my music though and I was singing out loud to the forest. I decided I really enjoy hiking after 5pm, when it seems everyone is off the trail already. Maybe it’s because I regularly used to work till 8pm in the car business, but I don’t mind working (and it is work) that late in the day.
In the evening, I have the trail to myself. I can sing out loud and take as many breaks to pee as I want, off the trail, but not worrying about someone walking up on me. Which is good, because my bladder seemed to have shrunk overnight.
I did keep checking over my shoulder to make sure no one was behind me trying to pass, and kept an eye out for tents to stop my noise pollution if needed. It wasn’t necessary, though, I saw no one else on trail after that.
At one point, while I was slogging through the trail, so tired, I thought how surreal it was to be out here. I had wanted this again for so many years, and even now it didn’t seem fully real sometimes. I felt a great burst of gratitude for the trail and pure happiness to be right there right then. The trail would challenge me to learn what lessons I needed.
The downhill was very, very steep with lots of dirt and little rocks to slide down on if I wasn’t careful. I shortened my poles and used them to hold my weight as I wearily descended. I was so close, though, and that thought propelled me. I did note my knees felt a little beat up, and resolved to monitor that moving forward.
The dirt turned to big stone steps, widely spaced apart, and then dirt again. Steep all the way down. When I finally thought I was done descending onto a gravel path, there was one more bonus set of stone steps waiting for me.
I made my way into Port Clinton, a cute tiny town that featured bird conservation and train history. A couple older women walking along struck up a conversation with me, and I walked a bit through town with them.
I was going to walk to the pavilion to see if anyone else was there, but my body was done for the day. Ray came and picked me up, and even gave me a hug, sweaty and stinky as I was.
He drove us to a grocery store on the way back to his house, and we caught up and chatted about how he and his wife grew up in PA. He had lived in Rhode Island when we had worked together. It was funny to see what our reunion looked like.
He asked me what I wanted for dinner, and “vegetables” was my immediate answer. At the store, he bought burgers, snap peas, and zucchini, and even a couple of my food items. I got more bars, tuna, tortillas, trail mix, breakfast and caffeine drinks. All the stuff I was somehow already sick of, but was fueling all my miles so I was happy to have it as energy dense nutrition.
At the house, I met Michele, Ray’s lovely wife, and their two very sweet dogs, Rocky and Sasha. Michelle and Ray made me feel right at home, giving me a room with a big bed, a shower, laundry, dinner, great company, and even that margarita I’d been craving since Waynesboro.
As I did my chores of washing my dishes, charging my electronics, and sorting my food bag, I was able to answer all their questions about hiking the trail and provide some fun stories for them. Michelle helped me identify the snakes I had almost stepped near the day before as copperheads, which are poisonous. Very good to know for future reference and that I had caught them in time.
Ray will make sure I get to the trail early tomorrow, though I haven’t even thought about where I’m going to hike yet. After two 20+ days in a row, I’ll have to see how I feel.
I cannot thank Michelle and Ray enough for their absolute kindness and generosity to me. There aren’t a lot of good lodging and resupply options between Port Clinton and Hamburg, and they saved me a time consuming and costly trip to town. Also the absolute morale boost they provided of getting to feel clean again, sleep in a comfy bed, and resupply my food, some of which I’ve been eating faster than expected.
Part of me feels that I really don’t deserve this kindness, but I have some self esteem issues I was working on in my head today on the trail. Triggers became a source of curiosity, rather than self blame, and I was able to see some places where I can give myself more credit than I do sometimes. It’s all a work in progress, though, and that’s part of what I’m out here to do. The trail is restoring my faith in humanity again, both others and my own, one step at a time.