A Thousand and One Appalachian Tales

part thirteen

Mason-Dixon Line Dance

©Copyright 02002. Fresh Ink. All rights reserved.

The Agnostic Monk awoke just before dawn right where he had stopped the night before, on the Trail! He had blasted out of the Shenandoah National Park yesterday in the late morning and just kept going. After a terrifying encounter with a scary-looking koala-esque creature at Manassas gap Shelter, he decided to push on for fear of being eaten in the night. He had hoped to reach the next shelter when darkness and weariness prevailed and he could go no further. There he stopped and fell asleep and there he awoke.

He stuffed his bag back into his pack then climbed aboard. It was so much easier to see where he was going in the daylight! Barely .4 miles later he reached Rod Hollow Shelter in the early morning. Everyone was already up preparing breakfast when he arrived. None were thru-hikers so they asked a lot of questions about thru-hiking. They had a hard time believing he was a thru-hiker. It seemed he didn't fit their expectations of what a thru-hiker was or should be. He was too tired to discover just what those expectations were. He explained that yesterday was a record breaker and he was a little tired from over-extending himself.

Yesterday was his longest hike on the Trail, a whopping 37.3 miles! If it weren't for the fact that he could feel it in every bone of his body, he wouldn't have believed it himself. He recalled that The Maineak enjoyed taking the long-distance hike to the next level. He was fond of 24 and 48 hour power hikes. Once, back around Pearisburg, he made a fifty mile hike during the blue moon. Just recently he wrote, in a Register a few shelters back, that he was going to do it again this time by power hiking through four states (parts of Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania) in a two day non-stop 100 mile marathon. This was well beyond what any sane and rational thru-hiker would do. Still, The Monk smiled to himself. He was happy with a 37 mile hell-hike. He was no Maineak but then, who could be? With that he fell fast asleep.

When he awoke he was alone. He cooked up a Lipton dinner for brunch while reading over the Trail register. It seemed one of the ladies had written him an unfavorable review. As if he was the latest movie, he was given thumbs down. The Monk laughed. He had hiked all that way yet failed to meet with their approval; now what was he to do, call the whole thing off? Instead he contemplated all those behind him that might still be on the Trail and made a list. There was Jack (IDHFH), No Name, Longhorn, Toothpick George, The Bobsy Twins, Hazel, Irish Rover, Rhode Island Red, The Mad Norwegian, Lucky Star, Wandering Star, Beth and Chandra, Captain Moonpie, Census Taker, Herb, the Laughing Buddha, Jan, Jamie, AT "Leo", Mountain Mama, Leadfoot, and many, many more. He wrote them all a happy Fourth of July best wishes, then headed out.

He was still quite sore from yesterday's Death March and was quickly discovering that today, the Trail had no mercy. It shot him up one hill, then down, and then up another. It nickel and dimed him every aching step of the way. Still, he was able to partake of fresh mountain blackberries which grew wild along the Trail. Even in hell he found himself in heaven.

He had planned on going all the way to Keys Gap Shelter for the evening but that was looking increasingly unlikely as the day wore on. It was just about 13.3 miles more than he had in him. Luckily, The Philosopher's Guide came to the rescue!

"53. Just south of Snickers Gap (Va 7), at Bears Den Rocks, follow marked trail 600 feet to Bears Den Hostel: $8.50 a night for ATC, AT Clubs, or AYH members; others $11.50 in '87. Open 5:00-10:00 pm in '87. Faucet outside of building, 20 beds, showers ($1 in '87), camp on lawn ($4 in '87), laundry ($1 per load), soda machine, very limited trail food."

The 1988 Philosopher's Guide pg 28


With all his remaining strength, he made it to Bears Den Hostel as night fell. He walked inside and who should greet him but none other than Herb Smalls! The Monk had spent the night at Hawk Mountain Shelter with Herb. That had been an evening to remember, they recalled. Herb reminisced fondly of the two am firefight right in front of their lean-to. He could still see the flash of gun fire in his minds eye. The Monk could too. They laughed. It was good to see a familiar face. They talked over beers, catching up on old times. Herb was excited to see someone he had met in those first few miles still on the Trail after all this time. It was like something had come full circle for him. The Monk took a moment to calculate. 971.9 miles since Springer minus 7.6 miles from Springer to Hawk Mountain Shelter -- it was 964.3 miles since they first met! Herb whistled. 971 miles since Springer, that was a long ways, he said. The Monk confided in him his plan to break a thousand tomorrow.

Alas, he didn't have the requisite $8.50 for a stay indoors but the caretaker cut him a deal and let him sleep out on the lawn for free. The Bushpigs were enjoying the Fourth of July in Washington DC but The Monk was happy just to be at Bears Den. As he gazed up at the sky he caught a few shooting stars. One meteor was so big he thought someone had set off fireworks! That was enough for him. He did not need DC's display. The Universe was putting on a show all it's own right there and he watched it all live from the front row.

As he lay there gazing at the stars he listened to Pink Floyd's The Wall through his walkman. He laughed aloud at the silliness of listening to a rock opera about walls and alienation on the Appalachian Trail. He never felt part of a group more than he felt part of this one. For the first time in his life, he felt not just a sense of community but a sense of community which included him. There didn't seem to be any walls on the Appalachian Trail.

The next day, he traded addresses with Herb and said goodbye. Then he donned his pack and shuffled off, Maine-ward bound. The wilderness through this section was barely wider than the Trail itself. Evidence of urban development surrounded him. Someday soon this would all be someone's back yard, he thought to himself. He imagined a dingy Trail nestled between two long stretches of billboards on either side.

The Monk crossed Va 7 at Snickers Gap then descended steeply into Pigeon Hollow. From there it was a steep ascent back up before another steep descent back down. After a few more ups and downs, the Trail finally evened out along the top of the ridge which separated Virginia from West Virginia. Finally, he was able to open up the throttle and put some mileage under his belt. He reached the US 340 bridge a little before noon, by his best guess estimate. Minutes later he was in Harpers Ferry making his way to the ATC HQ. He stopped in to help for about an hour, but as it was July 5th, many folks were out and they didn't have much for him to do. He spent some time sorting and alphabetizing a stack of papers. A lady took his picture for the photo album. They had photo albums going back several years. They looked like enormous year books. The class of '88, he thought to himself. He tried to look up Strider, whom he left behind in Hot Springs, but couldn't find him. Strider had done the Trail in 1985. Then, he signed the Register and made a quick hitch to the PO and back. It was now a little after 3 pm so he pushed on. If he wanted to break a thousand miles, he had at least ten more to go.

He followed Washington Street, which turned into High Street, along which the Trail briefly ran. From there, the Trail led to The Point, where the Shenandoah and the Potomac Rivers meet. He climbed up onto the brick walkway and followed the Goodloe Byron Memorial Footbridge across the Potomac River and into Maryland.

The Trail followed the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal towpath, now a National Historical Park. This was a cakewalk and he made good time. He crossed under US 340 then quickly ascended Weverton Cliffs in the late afternoon. From there it was just a little more up to the summit of the ridge and smooth sailing. He spread his wings, still more than six miles to go. He arrived at Gathland State Park a little after 9 pm. He met the ranger who helped him find the shelter in the dark and soon fell fast asleep. It had been another long day but he did it! He broke a thousand miles, 1001.8 miles to be exact.

The next day, he awoke feeling like a real thru-hiker. He felt like he had made quite an achievement. If he quit then and there he could die happy knowing that he had made it this far. Not! He had no intentions of quitting now! He was in the best shape of his life, something the military had been unable to do. Now he wanted to put it to use and enjoy it. He stopped in to say goodbye to the Ranger then pointed himself towards Katahdin and flipped on his walking shoes.

Leaving the State Park he passed by a 50 ft stone memorial to Civil War newspaper correspondents then passed through a gap in the stone fence. He continued on quietly, loosing himself to the music of the land coupled with the sounds of his footsteps, breathing, and heartbeat. Before he knew it he reached Dalhgren Campground. His friendly neighborhood Philo Guide kindly informed him that Dalhgren Campground offered free hot showers just for thru-hikers. This was an opportunity he steadfastly could not refuse. He couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a shower.

After a much needed scrub with his Dr Bronners pure castile peppermint soap, he continued on refreshed. Minutes later he reached US Alt-40 and Turner Gap. There, on the left was Old South Mountain Inn, used by several Presidents and reputed to be at least 200 years old. On the right was a Gothic stone chapel built by the widow of Admiral Dahlgren. He did not stop.

A few minutes later he reached the Washington Monument State Park and stood before the stone monolith that was the Washington Monument. This was another Washington Monument, not the one in DC. First built in 1827, it was later restored in 1936. Inside, a staircase led to a tower and observatory. He stopped briefly to enjoy the views.

Afterward, it was an easy hike over Bartman Hill down to Boonsboro Mountain road and the footbridge over I-70. After crossing US 40 the Trail made a quick ascent up Pine Knob then continued on to Annapolis Rocks with views west of Greenbrier Lake. There were several primitive campsites available but no water so he pressed on. A mile later he reached Black Rock Cliffs, with a full 180 degree view to the west, and stayed for a spell. He imagined the bright light of the sun shining down into his Sahasarara Chakra, all the way through his Muladhara Chakra and deep into the Earth. He imagined it continued on, out the bottom and back around to the sun, a macrocosmic orbit.

After, it was a pleasant descent to the side trail which led to the Pogo Memorial Campsite. There, he was the guest of honor for the evening. Once again he found himself in the space between herds and enjoyed an evening alone.

The next morning, a quick, rocky scramble over the summit of South Mountain brought The Monk to Hemlock Hill Shelter for a short breather. He pulled out the Trail Register and read the smoke rings left behind by the other injuns. Then, before leaving, he left his own.

He crossed Wolfsville Road, Foxville Road, then Warner Gap Road, passing evidence of pollution along the way. A few miles later he crossed Raven Rock Hollow Road before passing yet another Devils Racecourse. Perhaps it was a franchise, he thought to himself. At last, he reached Pen Mar County Park for the evening. There, he ran into Noel and another hiker.

Noel had apparently not joined Zero and the others in DC as they were nowhere to be found. It also appeared as though Zero and Noel were not developing the close friendship that Zero had once expressed an interest in.

Noel explained that she was an independent woman and had no intention of replacing one bad relationship with yet another. She went on to make a few disparaging remarks against Zero which may or may not have been uncomplimentary, depending on if you were Zero or not. It was likely he'd have been pleased. She concluded with a this-was-her-time-and-she-aimed-to-enjoy-it-as-she-saw-fit speech. After a standing ovation Noel was encouraged to give an encore but she declined. Instead, the trio sat around a small fire and traded jokes and stories well into the evening.

The next day, The Monk awoke with an incredible urge to head north. They were scant yards away from the infamous Mason-Dixon Line, which also happened to serve as the border between Maryland and Pennsylvania. He was anxious to add yet another State to his growing collection. It was a race and the three arrived together, a ménage a tie. The Monk gave a high five to Noel and the other hiker then did a dance. He bounced around like a Tigger unchained. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe he had made it all the way to Pennsylvania!

Pennsylvania.

He had been hearing horror stories about Pennsylvania since Georgia! One such story was that the mountain clubs actually went around sharpening the rocks! Obviously this was a tall tale but nevertheless, much ado was made over the last 1031.9 miles about the rocky ridges of Pennsylvania. They were, to say the least, notably sharp.

The other big story about Pennsylvania was the dreaded road walk. The Maineak encouraged people to do this as a night hike. It has since been relocated mostly off-road.

But there were pluses to Pennsylvania as well. Up ahead was Pine Grove Furnace and the Half-Gallon Club. Also, there was an Ice Cream Lady on the road walk who gave ice cream to all the thru-hikers who passed by her house. As Buddy Bear was fond of repeating, life was good on the AT!

The Monk crossed Pen Mar Road and descended into woods before crossing Falls Creek. From there he crossed Buena Vista Road, Old Pa 16, and Pa 16 before stopping briefly at Mackie Run Shelter to search the Register. He crossed Mentzer Gap Road then Antietam Creek before stopping again, this time at Antietam Shelter. Over peanut butter sandwiches and water, he again combed the register. He was looking for signs of Pablo and Mom, and the Bushpigs who joined them in DC - Zero, maybe even a Sandbagger or two, but there were none.

From Antietam Shelter, he crossed Rattlesnake Run Road, then Old Forge Road before passing yet another shelter, Tumbling Run Shelter, less than a mile from Antietam. For those who wanted to sleep at every shelter along the way, it would be slow going through these parts. From Tumbling Run, it was a quick ascent up Buzzard Peak(1,946 ft)to a side trail which led to Chimney Rocks and an excellent view of the Waynesboro Reservoir and Green Ridge behind. From there the Trail followed the ridge and down to Snowy Mountain Road. The Monk was finding himself discouraged by all the development. After crossing the road, he passed through a golf course then crossed another road and Pa 233 before ascending the next ridge. It was smooth sailing all the way to US 30 but by the time he got there it was dark.

US 30 passed through Caledonia State Park with public camping. He thought of spending the night but the campsites were farther down and away from the Trail. Besides, he was, technically speaking, broke. He could not afford to pay for a campsite. So he hiked on and found a spot off the Trail, in a natural area adjoining the state park. He unrolled his bag, crawled in and fell fast asleep.

Road Walk

July 9th, The Agnostic Monk pushed on to Quarry Gap Shelters for breakfast. There he ran into Foster, another northbounder. They continued on together, trading stories as they walked. They crossed and walked along many roads, past Birch Run Shelters, to Toms Run Shelters for the evening. They kept it quiet and low key and didn't build a fire.

The next day, it was a short walk to Pa 233 and then into Pine Grove Furnace State Park. This had been a clandestine and illegal furnace during the days of English Rule. From what they could learn, the settlers were allowed to mine the iron and steel but not to smelt it. They were forbidden by English Law from building any furnaces. Instead, the English required the settlers to ship their ore to England where it was smelted and then shipped back to the states. So the settlers constructed two secret furnaces, one in Pine Grove and one in Boiling Springs. These furnaces played a crucial role in early American History. The furnace at Pine Grove made many of the firearms used to fight in the Revolutionary War.

But none of this had anything to do with ice cream.

"15. Pine Grove Furnace State Park

The 1988 Philosopher's Guide, pg 30


After a rigorous audition, The Monk picked and purchased - a half gallon of delightfully creamy Mountainberry Crunch. The first two pints went down easy but as the ice cream melted, it became increasingly difficult. Needless to say, he was never able to eat Mountainberry Crunch ever again. However, with some effort, he did manage to finish his half gallon. But, at what cost? He felt bloated, like he was going to explode, like he was a living milk bomb. He felt that if he bounced he'd burst.

Foster decided to press on, leaving The Monk behind to suffer the consequences of his actions. The Monk struggled to draw a picture for the wall but found it difficult to concentrate. The day was becoming the hottest day so far and he was drowning in warm frothy cream.

After a while he decided to press on but it was like walking with lead filled snow shoes. Furthermore, Pine Grove Furnace State Park was, well, crowded. The Trail passed through center mass and around the swimming area where a vast majority of people lay beached like whales. Through this crowd, he passed in what can only be described as an altered state of consciousness.

It was like someone had spiked his ice cream with horse tranquilizers. The world had turned to goo and he could only ooze slowly through it. But there were too many people. He felt like a chimpanzee among hairless apes, like a disheveled, smelly, Australopithecus confronting the Neanderthals for the first time. He became extremely conscious of the stark contrast he presented to these people. He was a blight upon their canvas, a gaping flaw in their illusions. If he did not hurry and leave he felt certain he would be lynched. Remove that eyesore at once, he worried in dairy induced dementia. But he could barely walk. All his strength was reduced to the struggle to digest a half gallon of now melted ice cream festering within. Still, he walked on. He passed the beach and snack bar trying his best to be invisible.

It must have worked. He was able to pass through the parking lot and into the shade of the woods. There, he was able to cool down and drink some water. He felt as though his brain was full of steamed milk bubbles so he sat and relaxed for a spell. He took account of his situation. So far, he was disappointed with this section of the Trail. It was too developed and there were too many people. It distracted him and pulled him from the Trail experience, at least as he had come to know it so far. He was finding it difficult to process that this was part of the Trail experience as well. He wanted, instead, to move quickly past it. He realized that as he drew closer to New York City, it was likely to get much worse. Frankly, he had been surprised to find any wilderness left on the Eastern Seaboard.

When he first started making plans to hike the Trail, he really had no idea what to expect. He thought it would be mostly developed land with small patches of State and Federal land strung together, like pearls on a string - strung together by a single thread called the Appalachian Trail. He was glad to see that, for the most part, this analogy was incorrect. The Trail was often more like a string of caramel through rich chocolate cake! Great regions had remained undeveloped and preserved. Large chunks of land had been protected. To The Monk it was nothing short of a miracle. He had reveled and rejoiced through a thousand miles of largely unadulterated lands and it had spoiled him. Now he was passing through areas which proved to be the yin to the yang, the urban and suburban to the rural and the 'out there.' But whereas before, sometimes the path across the 'out there' was a thin wire, there in Pennsylvania, it seemed that even the thin wire had vanished altogether.

The Monk pushed on to the parking lot at the end of Railroad Road, where the AT took a right turn and ascended up the ridge. By now he was feeling better but was still tired and a little cranky. He didn't want to ascend the ridge. He didn't want to ascend to the height where he could bear witness to the unholy sprawl which surrounded him. There was already a road up there anyway, he continued to rationalize. Furthermore, the Trail merely dropped back down to Pa 233 again 9.5 miles later. Somehow that did it. He followed Railroad Road out to 233 then followed that until he ran into the Trail again at the corner of Myerstown Road and Pa 233. He realized he made a good decision about the road walk even if a purist might not have agreed. It did two things. It acclimated him to the coming road walk ahead and it helped him to recover from the near lethal dose of ice cream he had consumed. For the first time he was able to appreciate that he had earned another merit badge. He had joined the Half-Gallon Club!

That put some more skip in his step. His original plan was to pull another Maineak and hit the road walk that night after dinner. He wanted to walk through the night marathon style, nipping at Maineak's heals. The half-gallon torture had seemed to put the kybosh on such plans but after his short road walk, he was starting to feel like a thru-hiker again and not some amorphous blob of dairy products gone mad.

The Trail continued along the side of railroad tracks for a while, then turned right and crossed Pa 34. There it followed an old dirt road around the summit of Trents Hill before crossing Pa 94.

Less than a half mile later, he turned left onto Sheet Iron Road and followed it a few tenths of a mile to Moyers Campground.

17. At first paved road 0.4 mile after Pa. 94, take Sheet Iron Road left (faint blue-blazing?) 0.3 miles to Moyers Campground. For $1.50 (in '86), sleep on band stage if raining or set up tent, hot showers with slippery floor, free video movie at 7:00 PM.Laundry (75 cents wash, 25 cents dry in '85). $7.50 for trailer site includes heated pool privileges. Call Nino's Pizza for free delivery after 5:00PM. Campstore with better selection of groceries and prices than Pine Grove. Use as 7-days-a-week mail drop: Moyer's Mountain Retreat, P.O. Box 68, Mt. Holly Springs, Pa. 17065. Moyers open year-round but no movies in late fall. Note: Be careful of your gear. Directions from Moyers back to A.T.: take old road behind bandstand till it becomes a dull trail, cross small creek and hit A.T. after 100 more feet; about 0.2 mile over all; or just take road back to A.T."
The 1988 Philosopher's Guide, pg 31
He stopped in for some groceries and a shower. He hit the store first grabbing a few items, pop-tarts and beer. He thought of staying but it didn't look like any thru-hikers were there. He took a quick shower to cool off then pushed on. He followed the directions in the Philosopher's Guide back to the Trail then continued on to Campbell Spring Shelter.

He intended merely to stop in for dinner, before attempting a late night roadwalk, but when he got there he ran into Foster and Noel. He quickly lost steam. It was late and he was tired so he stayed and enjoyed their company. Foster was rather shocked to see him at all after the condition he was in when last Foster left him. He told him how hard it was to hike after joining the Half-Gallon Club. Foster said he could imagine.

That night, they enjoyed a small fire and some beers The Monk had picked up at Moyers Campground.

The next morning, after a brief descent from White Rocks, the three stopped to fill their water bottles at the home of Linda Colflesh and her husband Dr, Bradford Wood. The Philo Guide informed them that they were friends to hikers. Their house was located right across Kuhn Road at the beginning of the road walk so it was a good spot to camel up. They continued on together but spread out as the day wore on.

They followed Kuhn Road down to Leidigh Dr which turned into Old Stonehouse Road after crossing Pa 74. Continuing on, they passing through Churchtown before spreading out. The Monk crossed Lisburn Road then Trindle Road alone. He passed by the house of Bonnie Shipe, the Ice Cream Lady, but she did not seem to be home. He was bummed to not to meet her but after yesterday's half-gallon, he could do without ice cream for a while.

The road walk continued on, crossing South Middlesex Road and turning onto Claremont before crossing US 11 and then I-81. From there it followed Country Club Road until, at long last, it was over. The Trail turned left to follow Conodoguinet Creek.

One final obstacle remained, a cable crossing. This was the first of two cable crossings. The other was in Maine. For him this cable crossing was symbolic. He was leaving behind the utter urbania of the last few days for some of the last vestiges of wilderness this side of Connecticut. The cable crossing also symbolized the passing into the new official domain, the domain of rocks.

"...When you climb into the mountains and leave the Cumberland Valley behind, you'll find yourself in for a new treat. From here to Delaware Water Gap, those cruel Pennsylvania rocks are spread over and embedded into the Trail. You will feel what I mean. A member of the Blue Mountain Eagle Climbing Club once jokingly told me that every spring they file the rocks to a sharp edge just so Thru-Hikers will remember these sections of Trail..."
The 1988 Philosopher's Guide, pg 32
The Monk safely crossed Conodoguinet Creek then continued on. He crossed Pa 944 before ascending to the junction of the Tuscarora Trail at Deans Gap. 0.8 miles further he reached Darlington Shelter for the evening.

©Copyright 02002. Fresh Ink. All rights reserved.


Go to part fourteen

Return to Top of Page

Return to the International Peace Trail Project

Return to Freshspace