Northern Exposure

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It’s been a bit since my last blog post, and quite a lot has happened in the interim. I’d begun drafting a number of separate blog posts, but decided I’d consolidate them to what you’re reading now. With that in mind, this is going to be a longer post compared to some of my others. As always, I’m incredibly appreciative for those of you that choose to spend your time reading.

My parents came to Amicalola Falls in North Georgia to see me off in the beginning of my journey. Since then, we’d been planning for another time for them to come visit and hike. We’d hoped to coordinate some time in Shenandoah National Park, however, as the intended weekend came closer, it would be the case that I would have already exited the northern end of the park, and we’d be hiking between the edge of the park and the Virginia / West Virginia border. The plan was we’d meet up and stay in Front Royal, Virginia for Friday and Saturday nights, Mom would hike with me on Saturday, and Dad would hike with me on Sunday. As it would work out, Mom’s stretch of hike is a section of trail known as “the Rollercoaster”. Spanning 14 miles of the Appalachian Trail, the Rollercoaster is a series of small climbs, none individually posing too daunting a task, however, there are about a dozen of them back to back. Mom was a champion, and we had a great time trying to keep track of which climb we were on at a given time. “Just wait for the loop-de-loop and the corkscrew,” I’d say with a smile.

Mom also got to witness my first up close and personal encounter with a poisonous snake. We were huffing it up one of the peaks of the roller coaster, when a surprisingly loud rattle alerted me to a large timber rattlesnake that I’d missed in the tall grass to the side of the trail. I’m grateful he didn’t want to strike me, because he certainly was in range when he gave his warning. We gave him his space and continued onward, heart rates slightly elevated for the rest of that particular climb.

It was with Mom that I passed the 1,000 mile mark. It’s really tough for me to describe how that moment felt. It was so incredibly special to have Mom there with me, and I’ll admit tears were shed. Very early on, I got some advice from some southbound thru hikers named the Stone Sisters. They advised not to consider how many miles were remaining in your hike, because early on, you’ll feel discouraged, and as you collect more miles, you’ll begin to feel saddened by the shrinking quantity of miles that remained. Passing 1,000 miles was the first time I began to understand the latter part of their statement.

Something else happened toward the end of my time in Virginia, and it was a phenomenon that AquaDog had predicted way back in North Carolina. We were discussing the difficulty in replying when someone asks “so are you a thru hiker?” I’d taken to responding with something to the effect of “well that’s the goal”, as I haven’t yet accomplished the task at hand to call myself a thru hiker. AquaDog, always wise beyond his years, had a theory that Virginia was where we’d truly begin to feel like thru hikers. At the time, I was dubious, but as it turned out, it wasn’t something that I had to decide. I don’t know if it’s the body odor, the hikers tan, or perhaps just something in our demeanor, but somewhere in Virginia, people stopped asking me if I was thru hiking. They seemed to already know. The questions became “how’s your thru hike going?” or “how is your backpack so small on a thru hike?!”, and the list goes on. I’ve got to admit, it feels pretty cool.

Dad and Mom both ended up hiking with me Sunday, as we had to alter our itinerary a bit to reflect the amount of energy the Rollercoaster took out of us the previous day. My parents then drove me to meet up with my wife, Glori, who would drive me into Washington, DC, where I’d be taking a few days off and meeting my new nephew, Thatcher.

It was a remarkable experience to be in such a large city after so much time in the woods. Make no mistake, I regularly stop through towns to resupply and eat town food and stay in motels, but none have been anywhere near the size of our nation’s capital. It was overwhelming to be surrounded by so many people, cars, buildings, and other infrastructure. We didn’t make too many plans. I was able to see some friends from college, and I am happy to report my new nephew is healthy and as perfect as can be.

After a restful three days off, I took the train from Union Station to Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, where I returned to the trail. I made my way to the final crossing of the Virginia / West Virginia border, where I camped in anticipation of what is called the Four State Challenge.

The Appalachian Trail runs through Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania sequentially. It’s about a 45 mile stretch of trail, and is known to be pretty relaxed from a terrain and elevation change perspective. The Four State Challenge, then, involves waking up in Virginia, and hiking to Pennsylvania in a single day. I had gotten behind most of my crew as a result of my detour to DC, but decided this was something I wanted to attempt by myself. Further, I decided it was important to me to complete this challenge in a calendar day (and not a 24 hour span). This is not a formal part of the challenge, but it’s all made up anyway. This would also make it much easier to stumble my way into Waynesboro, PA, once complete. I laid down at the border to try and get some rest with an 11:00 PM alarm set. It was a particularly warm evening, so I had my feet outside my quilt. I got about a half hour of rest before noticing rapid deflation of my sleeping pad. I quickly found and patched a hole, and moved my campsite over a bit to avoid the offending rock that had caused the puncture. Another hour or so of rest passed, and I awoke to a sharp pain on my left foot. I’d been stung by a bee! I toiled in my misfortune for a bit, afraid this was a negative warning of how the next 24 hours would go.

I began hiking at midnight. I stopped in at the ATC office in Harpers Ferry for a picture around 2:00AM, but otherwise sailed through the first 30 miles. I’d intentionally packed food that reduced my need to stop (granola, protein bars, candy, etc), so I’d cruised through the first 20 miles by about 7:00AM. I passed through a state run campground in Maryland that had hot showers, so took a nice morning pit stop.

As the sun came up, and the temperature increased, I began slowing and the day hikers came out in droves. Let me take this time to apologize to any day hikers that I met during the Four State Challenge. I can only imagine that I was rude, disheveled, and not the friendly representative of thru hiking that I try to typically be.

The last 10 miles of the challenge proved to be particularly challenging. I did a poor job of planning my nutrition and hydration for this stretch, and so found myself with no food or water for most of it. Further, while the bulk of the challenge consists of tame hiking, the last bit does have a fair amount of rocks and not particularly clear trail marking. I was thankful at this point that I’d started at midnight, because at least I wasn’t hiking by headlamp (as many of my friends had when they attempted).

I arrived at PenMar Park around 6:00PM, where I’d read there was to be a snack bar and a drink machine. Finally! They were both closed due to COVID. I hastily filled my water bottle from the spigot behind the closed snack bar. It took three large sips before I began to process the amount of sediment that was in the water I was drinking. Clearly this was not the appropriate water source! I stopped and examined my surroundings – there was a water fountain in the park. After cleaning my bottle of who knows what came from that spigot, I drank about three liters of water.

The caretaker of the park must have noticed my frantic hydration (and I’m certain this was not a first for him, he’s been working at the park for decades). He drove over in his golf cart to inquire about my plans for the remainder of the day. “Get to town,” was my only response. “I can help you with that,” he smiled and responded. I had to walk down to the Mason Dixon Line to formally complete the challenge, and then backtracked up to the park and got a ride into Waynesboro to take a serious rest day.

I’ve crossed another milestone since my last post, as I’m officially past halfway to Mt. Katahdin, the Northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail. In fact, as I’m writing this, I now have fewer than 1,000 miles remaining on my hike. There’s another challenge associated with passing the halfway point – the half gallon challenge.

For my 29th birthday, I’d decided I’d hike 29 miles. It was coincidental that this 29 miles would end at Pine Grove Furnace State Park, site of the half gallon challenge. The goal of the half gallon challenge is to consume a half gallon of ice cream in one sitting, however, going into it, I’d been told it was to eat the half gallon in less than a half hour. The current record is something like five minutes!

My plan was to hike fast for 29 miles, and finish my day with the ice cream, however, the weather had other plans. On my birthday, much of the day was filled with poor weather, and the walking was slow. I was still determined to hit the miles, but it rapidly became clear that there was little to no chance of arrival at the State Park before the general store was closed for the day.

I camped near the state park (read, illegally in the state park, but well hidden from any rangers looking to give me a hard time), and got to the general store at opening time, ready to face my dairy destiny. The weather was still lousy, clocking in at 50 degrees and cloudy. It turns out great hiking weather is lousy ice cream eating weather. A fellow thru hiker named Mullet had made the equally poor decision that 9:00 AM was the right time to attempt the challenge, and we both agreed that our misery would enjoy company, so decided to attempt the challenge together.

Ice cream is no longer sold by the half gallon, so in order to get the right quantity, you need to purchase both a 1.5 quart container, and an extra pint, and then eat all of it. The problem with this on the day we attempted the half gallon challenge was the ice cream delivery man was due for a delivery that day at noon. This meant they were totally sold out of pints, and the only 1.5 quarts were either cappuccino crunch or blackberry cheesecake. A lot of strategy goes into the optimal flavors to eat in the challenge, and I can personally confirm the toffee bits and chocolate make cappuccino crunch very difficult to eat quickly. The final pint needed to complete the challenge would be hand dipped vanilla in a solo cup.

Mullet and I both ate our ice cream in shivering misery, immediately regretting the decision we made. The weather necessitated wardrobe changes during the challenge, as I donned my beanie and he put on his puffy jacket. We both finished our half gallons just beyond the 30 minute mark, and received the wooden taster spoon certifying our entry into the half gallon club.

Pennsylvania has been great so far. Soon, I understand I’ll encounter the terrain that earns it the nickname “Rocksylvania”. In the mean time, however, it continues to be one step at a time.

Cheers,

Billy