The Great Winoosky


Resolved:  Never hike a trail without a beer named after it.

The Long Trail, Vermont, September 7, 2016 to September 22, 2016 — The northern two-thirds of the Long Trail may include the most rugged hiking I have ever done.  When the map elevation profile looks like sharks teeth or witches hats, you know you’re going to work that day.  Let’s just say I’m glad I hiked a lot of miles this summer to get ready. The bad news is that I should have done more.


Drought stressed ferns

Expectations were modest. The nation’s oldest hiking trail is known to be exceptionally rugged.  Vermont is in drought having received little snowfall last winter and was negative nine inches of rain on start day.  Now Vermont, aka Vermud, is noted for its own original black, sticky, oozy goo.  No rain, no goo right?  Wrong!


Pre-rain mud

On start day the temps were in the mid-80s.  The heat persisted for the first five-day leg.  I was raining sweat at a prodigious rate.  Could hiker sweat produce this much mud,  I asked myself?  Not likely.  We found sufficient water, but it was not always where we needed it.  I got dehydrated the first day and didn’t catch up until our first trail break.

Here’s how the hike went down.

I hiked with my PATC colleague, Rush Williamson.  Rush happens to have a friend who lives near the start point at the Canadian border called Journey’s End.  Thus we could position a car on each end as save ourselves costly shuttles.  He also had friends about five days apart which allowed us to break the hike into three five-day segments.  Easy logistics are always welcome and his friends’ hospitality was marvelous.


With Rush at Hal Gray’s home near the Canadian border.  We stayed with Hal the night we drove up.

We set out on September 7 hoping to make Jay Camp, 11 miles in. Experienced hikers ought to be able to do that, right?  Not even.  The terrain and heat conspired against us!  Instead we logged a measly eight miles.  We arrived at the Laura Woodward shelter around 4:15 pm with plenty of daylight remaining, but with legs not fresh enough to use it.

This miss dogged us.  It took two days to realign with shelters.  In the interim we tented.  The second night it rained hard for what turned out to be the first of five times. Both of us suffered through leaky tent seams.  Not good.


Stealth camping in the Vermont woods.

On September 8, the trail over Jay Peak was much more challenging that we anticipated confirming our decision not to press on the previous day. The ski area restaurant had closed two days earlier and the restrooms were locked so we did not linger. I took a 360 video on top and cursed the high angle slab rock where it was featured on the descent. Rain was in the forecast and I worried about safety when the rock was wet. I later learned that my concern was well founded.

Jay Peak

And so this challenging little adventure unfolded.  In Vermont shelters are three-sided traditional hiking shelters.  “Camps” are rustic cabins with doors.  We stayed at several of each.


Corliss Camp shared with a Middlebury College freshman orientation group.

The first five days were hot but otherwise uneventful.  On day five we reached Johnson were we were picked up by Ira and Katie Marvin. They were kind enough to share their house and family with us.  Rush had an ugly blister so we zeroed.  Katie happens to be a physician, so she patched him up good as new.

 We had fun with the Marvins.  Ira owns a maple syrup factory that supplies Whole Foods, Target and many other stores with genuine Vermont maple syrup.

The next feature on our list was Mt. Mansfield, a very popular mountain featuring an alpine habitat and an auto road.  It’s the state’s tallest mountain.

 Contemplating hiking up Mansfield with my morning coffee.

We pointed our boots toward Mansfield at the usual hour of seven. By the time we reached the high angle slab rock that defines the Mansfield trail, it was cold and raining hard. The footing was precarious enough to slow us considerably. A Vermonter who used an expression that sounded more like it was from the deep south proclaimed that the rock was “Slicker than chicken shit in a greasy Teflon skillet.”  He was accurate.


By noon we discovered Taft and called it a day with no rain in the forecast for the next couple of days. It’s Hobbit door can’t be more than five feet tall.


The next morning the clouds had stopped sobbing, but the trail was still wet and slick.  We elected to use the aptly named Profanity Trail bad weather bypass trail up Mansfield because the feature known as the “nose” is notoriously difficult and dangerous when conditions aren’t ideal.

Mansfield is spectacular.  One young hiker named “Skywalker” we encounter described it as the top of “Vermudarado.”


The sunrise from Puffer shelter was spectacular and worth the work required to see it.

The full view from Puffer.  Mansfield on the left.


Bridge across the Winoosky River and into Burlington for resupply. Next up Camels Hump.

The hump up Camel’s Hump is six mile climb.  Great trail and not a terribly hard push save the lack of water. Fortunately we’d learned to carry extra. I made a quick 360 video on top and my partner admonished some day hikes for straying outside the roped-off area into the alpine habitat.


Camel’s Hump

 The day hikers have a two-mile long trail to reach the top in droves.

Trail features.  Yes, that’s what you walk.


 Too many ski areas to count.


Old privy smashed by a blowdown.  Hope no one was in it.


Replacement privy.


Next to last day our amazing ridgerunners Robin Hobbs and Sara Leibold cross paths.  What a treat and a sight for sore eyes. 

The hike ended where the AT crosses U.S. 4 just south of Maine Junction. I hiked uphill to the Inn in 14 minutes. That’s 3  1/2 mph with a 30 lb. pack on my back.  Beer is an incredible motivator.


The Inn at Long Trail.


What a surprise to find Denise Benson!


Off to Maine where my friends donated day lily bulbs.


Clean up.  The end.


Ran into this.  Looks like the Long Trail to me.


Journey’s End.

Moonlight in Vermont



Coming attractions:  It’s time to get back in the saddle, so what’s next?  The oldest hiking trail in the United States beckons. Next up, the mountains of Vermont and The Long Trail.

We’ll be driving to the Canadian border just as soon as the Labor Day traffic clears.  Then we’ll hit the trail early the next morning for what is hoped to be a 16 day trek – more if mother nature proves our planning wrong. The objective is to collect the 172 Long Trail miles missed when hiking the Appalachian Trail.  (Note: Sources differ on the exact distances involved.)


The sign marking “Maine Junction.”

The AT and the Long Trail overlap for the 100 miles starting at the Vermont/Massachusetts border northward to “Maine Junction” just north of the Rutland and Killington area. At Maine Junction the trail hangs a sharp easterly right turn toward Hanover, NH and from there onward to central Maine.

The Long Trail was conceived in 1910 and stitches Canada to Massachusetts for 272 miles along the spine of Vermont’s rugged Green Mountains.  It’s rugged and last month’s 100-mile wilderness hike was good practice, but this adventure will be more strenuous.


Ironically, both the Long Trail and Appalachian Trail were conceived in the same place.


The fire tower on Stratton Mountain has been preserved and maintained so that hikers may see the same views that conceptualized the two hiking trails birthed there.

The hike has a happy ending.  Can’t wait!

My partner will be Rush Williamson, a fellow PATC member who also is highly involved in protecting and preserving the AT.  He’s also a retired Marine with whom I work closely on many trail-related projects.

For more on the Green Mountain Club and The Long Trail click on: Green Mountain Club and The Long Trail

Want to dance?


Julie Johnson, who commutes from Manhattan, drags a log she named “Betty,” up Pass Mtn. for use in a waterbar.

PATC North District Hoodlums Trail Crew, Pass Mountain, Shenandoah National Park, August 20, 2016 — Hanging out with the Hoodlums this weekend prompted a thought.

What is it about the Appalachian Trail that would cause people to commute hundreds of miles to maintain it; to hike it?  Why do so many report deeply personal relationship with this trail?

There are as many answers as there are hikers.  Here’s a possibility.

Some say the trail has the personality of a curvaceous vixen whose shapely turns first catch your eye on centerfolds in coffee table books.  She holds your gaze.

At the same time you imagine the possibilities, her earthy voice whispers on the wind, “Come with me. We’ll be amazing together.”  Smitten, you follow her irresistible come-hither with stars in your eyes and dreams of conquest.

Not so fast. Be careful of those sexy charms.  This babe may have legs that run from here to there, but a walk in the woods with this little number can suck you dry and empty your will to keep on.  Know that she turns from sultry to frigid ice virtually overnight.   See her tears fall in torrents that become rivers in your path. Be aware that she may not leave you laughing when she goes.

IMG_4914Date this honey and you’re in a high maintenance love affair. It’s more than the constant stroking, the sweet nothings or minding the flowers.  You’re in it with all of her friends including the bear who dug up my waterbar in search of a meal.  The hurt is high with this one.

She likes her suitors looking good.  Before you know it, you’ll own mix and match backpacks, tents and sleeping bags.   Guess how many base layers, flash dry shirts and pairs of Smart Wool socks I have.  I am ashamed to admit that my hiking boot closet would make Imelda Marcos jealous.

Heaven help you when you start owning your own personal trail tools – Pulaskis, MacLoeds – and Stihl brand anything is on your Christmas wish list.  I hear that she’s impressed by bigger saws.

Words like Jet Boil and Pocket Rocket soon replace GE and Tappan in the kitchen.  I mean who needs stainless steel when titanium is lighter.  Hell, Mother Nature even throws in the granite for free.


She’s not a cheap date though.  Betty needed a lot of polishing before she became but one more piece of jewelry decorating the trail. This expensive jewelry habit is essential.  Keep it coming or Ms. AT’s beauty and charms quickly erode.  Costume pieces may be okay from time to time, but this girl likes to receive big rocks, especially on special occasions. Forget one and she can get ugly.


In spite of all this, like a 1940s taxi dancer on a steamy Saturday night, the trail has no shortage of suitors.  Even the guy with the halo had to stand in line for his turn to dance.

Oh yes.  You probably guessed it.  The Hoodlums had another great outing.

Victory Lap of Sorts


100-mile Wilderness, Maine, August 1-10, 2016 — Bottom line:  Eye witness accounts are notoriously unreliable.  I remembered the last 100 miles of my thru hike as a piece of cake.  In my memory, only the second day was challenging.  Oh Grasshopper, you definitely mis-remembered that experience!

Absent the adrenaline of a thru hike, the 100-mile Wilderness was hard work, and was it ever.  Nevertheless, it was a joy to share it with Windy (Pepsi Hiker) Horn and watch her face brighten with excitement as the wonders of this gem of a hike revealed themselves like a sultry fan dancer hungry for tips.  If Katahdin is the cherry on top, the wilderness is definitely the whipped cream and definitely worth the effort.

IMG_2195I met Wendy and her hiking partner Diane near Port Clinton, PA in 2014 on my thru hike.  We hiked together for several days before I eventually outran them and they had to return home to northern Illinois.  We kept in touch.

This summer I shared dinner with Wendy and her friend Rene at the Skyland resort in Shenandoah National Park.  Mostly we talked about hiking.

Turned out that Wendy has section hiked West Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania.  Nice, but little to write home about.  I suggested she chew off a chunk of excitement for motivation.  That’s how we found ourselves tramping our way through the ultimate 100 miles of Maine.

I drove to Maine to visit an old friend for a couple of days before snagging Wendy at the Manchester, NH airport.  We then motored six-plus hours north to Millinocket and stayed at the AT Lodge before being shuttled to Monson, the gateway to the 100-mile Wilderness.  There we stayed at Shaw’s, now under new and enthusiastic ownership.  The place was packed to overflowing.


The first stop was the Appalachian Trail Conservancy’s new visitor center in Monson.  The number of AT hikers is overwhelming Baxter State Park and Mt. Katahdin.  A new permit system is being tested that will ultimately meter in a finite number of hikers per day and limit the allowable number coming from the AT to 3,000 hikers per annum.

We will save the arguments about the efficacy of this system for another time.

At Shaw’s we arranged a resupply drop which, sadly has upped in price from $25 to $80.  Seems hikers were dumping their garbage in and around the old 5-gallon paint buckets. Worse, some food was being stolen.  Now, resupply is delivered to your hand.  It takes some doing, but it worked okay for us except that it cost an unanticipated $40 each.  At least we could split the $80 cost.


Maine suffered a dry winter.  This weather pattern has continued into summer.  In spite of the drought, the ponds have plenty of water to keep the outlet streams running.  The tertiary streams and many springs are bone dry. Hikers need to plan their water carefully.  The water sources for two Lean-tos were bone dry.

Same spot, two years apart.  The soil is thin with only inches of soil having been created since the glaciers retreated.  It doesn’t take much for a rain shower to make mud, or the sun to just as rapidly dry it out for that matter.

Desiccation is everywhere.  Even the blueberries are raisins.  If the berries fail, the bears, deer and other animals which depend on them will suffer.  The harsh reality is that some will starve.

The forest is tinder dry and we learned that fire crews have been propositioning equipment in expectation of forest fires that most certainly will occur.

Here’s a graphic example of the drought’s effects.  Little Wilson Falls, two years apart.


Crossing Little Wilson Creek, two years apart.  This is not a crossing I ever imagined would be feet dry.


The trail begins gently enough with some gentle climbs and slab walks.


Plenty of roots, considered a trail feature in Maine.


Got rocks?  We climbed this twice … How?  The trail was rerouted at some point to include this gem.  The old trail wasn’t blocked and we accidentally did a two hour loop.  Ugh!

Not exactly a sprint.


Ya got yer stream crossings and yer views.

We planned for an eight-day transit, allowing for some short and some long days dependent on the terrain.  The weather opened windless, humid and hot.  Temps were in the 80s and 90s which is cooking for Maine.


Normally, I drink one to two liters per day and another in camp.  The first day I got dehydrated because several water sources were dry.  I filled up my spare three liter bladder (six lbs.) which we shared.  Problem solved.

Two years ago, I didn’t encounter more than a dozen or so hikers.  This year there were dozens upon dozens.  The college students told us that hiking is now a campus fad.  Good to get new blood into the woods, but the trash level was much higher than before.


Two students from Elon U.  They had a general idea of what to do, but little knowledge of Leave No Trace outdoor ethics and practices or the fact that privies aren’t everywhere you can camp, or how to properly wash dishes in the woods (not in the pond), or the finer techniques of hanging a food bag.   I pulled out my handy Leave No Trace card and led a discussion in the proper practices.


Only one place to get water from the pond where we camped the first night.  Guess what’s under that artsy reflection of the sky?


Some Bozo washed his dishes at the only place campers can get water.  Brilliant.  Not!


A snowshoe hare mowed the shelter lawn.  His hind feet were huge and mostly white.

As it turned out, I overestimated how much mileage we could make.  The terrain was tougher than I remembered and the heat was oppressive.  Each of us was fit enough, but …


Wendy twisted her knee about 40 percent of the way in and had to be “med-evaced” (shuttled) back to Monson for a recuperation day.  Here she’s arranging transportation.  She brought our resupply when we rendezvoused at Jo-Mary Road – along with a surprise: An icy cold Coke which I appreciated very much!

Nature’s art gallery.




Katahdin in the distance.

While Wendy recuperated, I hiked over White Cap Mountain in the cold rain – exactly the same conditions and time of day as two years ago.  It wasn’t a happy flash back.

I pushed on to Cooper Brook Lean-to the next day to swim – almost as good as a shower.  The next morning Wendy rejoined at Jo-Mary Road and we were off.

The AT has its moments.  One that sneaks up on you like a woman in a Philip Marlow novel with that come hither smile then sets you up for a hard fall is the newly reopened White House Landing.  I missed this one last time around.  They pick you up in a boat and stuff your face full of burgers and incredible homemade pizza.  You don’t leave hungry in the morning either!  It helped that the weather broke to cool temps, low humidity and a nice breeze.  So much for wilderness.  Perfect!


This little guy stood his ground.  No rattles, but with the body type of a pit viper including the narrow neck and triangular head.  Definitely not a hog nose.  Possibly a water snake.  We were near a river.


The 100-mile wilderness ends at Abol Bridge, just before entering Baxter State Park for the Katahdin climb.  There were about 20 hikers headed for Baxter where there’s only room for 12 long distance hikers.  Everything else is reserved car camping.  We shuttled into Millinocket and drove into Baxter because we didn’t want to occupy space.

Katahdin is awesome!


Made it!  Second time around is not the same, but it’s still pretty good.

New sign this year.


Pretty obvious.

More trash than we could carry out.  This is just a sample.


Best sign of the trip.






Digging a bear pole hole.

Northern Virginia section of the Appalachian Trail, July 21-24, 2016 — It was time for the monthly PATC ridgerunner meeting, this time at the Blackburn Trail Center where “Trailboss” is the caretaker and gracious host.  Since he has an endless list of projects, Robin Hobbs and I showed up early to help do some work at the Sam Moore shelter (AT NOBO mile 999.6).


Bear poles have hooks to hang food bags using a forked pole, here tied down on the far side of the pole.


The pole is set 18 inches in the ground with four 60-lb. bags of concrete.


Working bear pole at Jim & Molly Denton shelter.

While the Sam Moore overseer and I installed the bear pole, Robin and Trailboss hiked north to clear two blowdowns across the AT.


We finished up by replacing a fire ring with a new fire grate.


The social and dinner prompted a lot of discussion.  This is where the real business is done.


Sara Leibold, our Northern Virginia ridgerunner and I started patrolling immediately following the meeting.

We spent the first night at the Tom Floyd Wayside shelter with three others.


We took a break after picking up micro trash at the John Singleton Mosby campsite.  It is deep in the area Mosby’s raiders patrolled during the civil war.


Along the way we clipped plenty of vegetation which grows prolifically this time of year.

Our last evening was spent at the Denton shelter with a large grouping of campers. Sunday morning we hiked to a road where Sara’s dad was waiting to take her home to Alabama for a whirlwind visit.  She works 10 on and four off which gives her sufficient time.


It wasn’t until much later that I realized Sara might be a serial killer!😉


Tried to photograph an interesting spider web with a phone camera.  No luck.  A good camera is on my Christmas list.

I was testing a new Osprey pack for use in the 100-mile wilderness next week.  It carries nicely, but I like the cargo features of my old one.  On a long hike the ride is more important, so the new pack made the Maine manifest.

Next stop Kennebunkport to see my friend Ed, the guy who taught me to split granite.  Then to Manchester, NH to pick up Wendy “Pepsi Hiker” Horn at the airport and head for Millinocket where we’ll drop my car and get shuttled to Monson to begin our 100-mile journey.  Boots on trail Aug. 1.



Workin’ for the Trail Boss.


The Hoodlum trail crew gets briefed by the Trailboss, patron of the infamous Roller Coaster. Photo by Mike Gergely

Somewhere on Loudon Heights, WV, July 16, 2016 — There’s a somewhat secret two-year-long project to relocate the Appalachian Trail on Loudon Heights as it descends to Harpers Ferry.  By the end of the year, the job will be done.

The pitch of the existing trail reminds people of a church steeple.  Such a challenging slope does not facilitate erosion control. Worse, it passes through preserved civil war battlefield entrenchments, which as par for the course, unthinking/uncaring hikers damage by removing rocks to make fire rings.  Neither practice, rock displacement nor fires, is appropriate on such hallowed ground.

The AT is constantly being relocated.  Someone once told me that less than 5 percent of the trail is original.  Not sure that’s accurate, but in this case, a “relo” makes common sense.

So, you need hard work done fast, “Who ya gonna call?”  The Hoodlums, of course.  In reality, we were building on the good work of crews that came before us and set the stage for those to follow.  Nevertheless, the Hoodlums were delighted to answer the call and do our small part on a brutally hot and humid summer day.


The new treadway gently hugs the mountain’s contour lines.  If it had a label, it would scream in bold print, “New gentle lower calorie formulation!”

I overheard someone say that his dad said the same thing mine did, “If you don’t go to college, you’ll end up digging ditches.”  So much for education.  If I was paid for this, I join a union; but as a hobby, it’s fun and the camaraderie is fantastic.


Trail work is like pulling teeth  Big old rock molars.  Emily knows the physics of leverage.


Then there’s the detailed work of removing roots and smaller stones.  Later another crew will smooth out and level this rough cut.  Our job this outing was to break ground.


It takes a village to make a trail.  Our northern Virginia ridgerunner, Sara Leibold,(foreground) joined us for the day.  The trail building added a new dimension to her experience.

Head Hoodlum Janice and Hoodlum Julie got dirty and had fun.


Some rocks are bigger than others, but eventually they all succumb to brute force and a little bit of know-how.

Like distressed jeans, some new trail comes complete with pre-blowdowns. We just worked around and under them.   Trailboss attacked them with gusto!

At the end of the day, we retired to Blackburn Trail Center where Mrs. Trailboss, who just happens to be the chair of the Appalachian Trail Conservancy board, rewarded us with a scrumptious dinner!  It doesn’t get better than that.  Sisu  GA/Me ’14



What the funk?


I was out on my annual walk with some of the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club ridgerunners last week.

On this particular walk I started asking about thru hikers about their previous hiking experience.  Better than 90 percent said that they had little to no previous backpacking experience before toeing off on Springer Mtn.  Admittedly it’s a small sample.  Nevertheless, the answer to this question and other observations got me noodling about hiker hygiene …

In central Virginia I called someone to shuttle me into town for a resupply. I tossed my pack into the back of the van; then jumped in. The driver reflexively rolled down her window even before I could get my door shut.

I knew what she was thinking. “This guy’s a thru hiker and I bet he smells to high heaven.” She knew I’d been on the trail for five days and her expectations were reasonable. Hell, when I’m out maintaining my AT section, if the wind is blowing just so, I can smell the thru hikers long before they come into view.

Anyway, as she pulled away, I implored my benefactor.

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t smell.” She looked me in the eye, wrinkled her nose and said, “You’re right.” “How do you do that?” she asked as she returned her window to the upright and locked position.

The answer is simple.   Personal hygiene is priority for me and a point of pride. I also don’t want to “smell like a Boy Scout” as my mother used to say to my brother and I when we returned from our camping trips. More importantly, I don’t want to get sick. It’s another level of Leave No Trace if you want to see it that way.


My personal hygiene kit. It clips to and hangs with my bear bag at night.  It’s the equivalent of snivel gear for me.

Hikers don’t have to stink if they don’t want to.  I may may take it further than most, but staying clean isn’t all that hard and it has many benefits.  Experienced hikers tend to be the cleaner ones.


The contents include tooth brush and paste, Dr. Bronner’s soap, waterless shampoo and waterless body wash, large microfiber wash cloths which double as towels, deodorant and Q-tips.  Fingernail clippers usually reside in my pocket for quick fingernail cleaning.

Here are eight hiker hygiene considerations.


  1.  You don’t have to stink.  Using waterless shampoo and body wash each night is the trick. It’s a nice complement to the tick check, the weight is negligible, and it has the added benefit of helping to keep your sleeping bag from smelling like a dead gym sock.  Rub it in and wipe it off with a microfiber cloth.  You can buy the stuff and any drug store or REI.  Hand sanitizer works as deodorant if you rub it in, but I carry the real stuff.
  2. Bury your shit! Not only is it an unsightly and smelly disease vector, but the Bible itself, Deuteronomy 23:13, says do it!  Deuteronomy 23:13
  3. Wash your hands. I allocate two wet wipes per day for use when I relieve myself.  I work from the top down, face first, pits followed by the business at hand.  When done, they’re returned to the foil container they came in; then on to the trash bag. No monkey butt!  I also use a dab of Dr. Bronner’s eco-friendly soap to wash my hands whenever I get water.  I wash away from the source in a zip lock I carry for that purpose. I clean my fingernails each time I wash my hands.
  4. Treat or filter your water.  I prefer iodine and the neutralizer pills to save weight and space, but I also have a Sawyer.  The method is not important.  The key is to make it a habit.  Better safe than sorry.
  5. Dental care.  Brush after breakfast and again after dinner.  The key is the brushing action.  You don’t need but a dab of toothpaste which you can either swallow or spit into the woods away from camp.
  6. Clean your dishes!  This thru hiker was as filthy as her dishes.  I cook only foods I can rehydrate in Zip Lock freezer bags or their original containers.  If you cook in your pot, clean thoroughly with Dr. Bronner’s and scatter the gray water far away from camp.  You can dig a sump and strain out any chunks with grass or vegetation.  The chunks need to be packed out.
  7. Lyme disease.  This is bad stuff.  The most dangerous animal on the AT is the tick. Permethrin kills them on contact. You can have your clothes professionally treated here: Insect Shield or purchase permethrin spray at any Walmart, outdoor store or REI.  They even have it at the AT Conservancy Visitor Center.  I go overboard.  I spray my pack, the inside of my sleeping bag and tent and wear permethrin-treated long pants.  For those who don’t like chemicals, weigh the risk.
  8. Noro Virus.  The aforementioned practices can do a lot to reduce your chances of catching this ugly bug.  If you have a good relationship with your physician, you can get prescriptions that will stop vomiting dead in the water and doxycycline you can take on a prophylactic basis if a tick chomps you.  Imodium stops diarrhea.  I carry them in my first aid kit.  So far, so good, but it’s a comfort to know that they are there.  I had to promise that I’d immediately see a doctor if I took any of the prescribed meds.

Stay well.  Smell good.  Enjoy your hike!

Oh! The things we see.


Pine Grove Furnace State Park, PA to Harpers Ferry, WV, June 30 – July 6,, 2016 — My annual hikes with our ridgerunners have begun.  This year my muffin top needs shrinking so I decided to walk all 240 miles of the PATC section in hopes of burning some of it off.  I’d like to do it nonstop, but schedules, theirs and mine, dictate otherwise.


After dropping my car at the Harpers Ferry National Park long term parking, Robin Hobbs schlepped me up to meet Mitch Mitchell at the store where hikers traditionally eat a half gallon of ice cream to celebrate reaching the halfway point which is just down the trail.  From here the math for them changes from counting up the miles to counting them down.

Prospective ridgerunners think the job is about hiking.  Readers of this blog know from last year in Georgia and other missives that the opposite is true.  It mostly about picking up trash, coaching hikers in Leave No Trace outdoor ethics, counting and interacting with hikers.  The miles per day are generally slow and short.

This trip was no different, but here’s fair warning.  I’m going to let you in on some ridgerunner reality show secrets and it’s gonna get gross…

We were also out over the July 4th holiday weekend, meaning more people in general, more nubes, and the laggard thru hiker party crowd which is not known for its trail decorum.  In fact, they openly admit to yellow blazing (hitch hiking) and to using booze and drugs in excess.

The rule of thumb is that if a hiker isn’t at Harpers Ferry by the Fourth of July, they need to “flip” to Maine and hike south or risk winter weather shutting them out of Mt. Katahdin in October.  These folks are walking on the bleeding edge of that axiom.


Selfie at the official half way marker.

Our start was leisurely enough.  We got about a half gallon (by volume) worth of trash out of the fire pit at Toms Run shelter and pressed on.  Before the day’s end Mitch’s pack reminded me of a colonial tinker plying his trade along the rutted byways that traced the very region we were trekking.

As we moved along, trash of all kinds accumulated.


I don’t know what it is with me and finding pots and pans.  Since hiking with Hal and Lauralee last year, I’ve found enough to open my own store.


Any more trash and he won’t have a place to put it.  It’s the second pair of new (cheap) boots I’ve found this year alone.


Taking inventory before feeding the friendly dumpster at New Caledonia State Park, PA.  We’re not showing you the snack bar just out of the photo.  I packed out some of their tasty treats for  dinner for that night.

Homeless camp on state park property.  It was a family that appeared to have left in a hurry.  Some toys and a pink blanket were in one of the tents along with clothing.  The food in the cooler was rotten.  The park rangers cleaned it up.  Too big for us to haul out on our backs.

After spending the night at Birch Run shelter with a noisy crowd of hikers, we press on.

Ridgerunners see a lot of gross stuff on the trail including unburied human waste, used feminine hygiene products,  wipes and toilet paper (Charmin blossoms) and the like.  We fish it out of privies, pick it up and pack it out or bury it as appropriate.  What comes next  is a first for me.  Why I was surprised, I don’t know.

You’d think after more than 1,000 miles on the trail, hikers would learn a thing or three, especially about hygiene.  Maybe not.  We found the young woman who owns this food dish improperly camped too close to a stream and illegally camped in the vicinity of a PATC rental cabin.  I’d met her previously while hiking with Denise the week prior in Virginia.  The embedded dirt on her skin reminded me of a character made up to be in a movie about peasants in the middle ages.  My stinky gym socks smell better.  Small wonder hikers get sick on the trail.

There were fewer flies on this pile of human scat I buried than on our hiker’s food plate.  These videos will go into every presentation I will ever give from now forward on backpacking.

Approaching Deer Lick shelter, we bumped into a PATC trail crew hiking out their tools.  They were nice enough to invite us to dinner with the North Chapter group, so we grabbed some of their tools and Chris Ferme’s chainsaw and tagged along for some chicken pot pie, green salad and fresh backed blueberry and lemon pie for dessert.  Yum!  Chris hauled us back to the trail in time to reach Deer Lick before dark.  The next day we hiked over their handiwork.  Nice job guys!

The following morning Mitch dropped off to participate in a PATC North Chapter hiker feed back at Pine Grove Furnace.  I pushed on to Raven Rock shelter in Maryland to rendezvous with Robin.

People love to steal this sign.  I was lucky it was there this trip.

Removed a small blowdown obstructing the trail using a folding saw.


Evidence of the party crowd.  Scattered the sticks.


The last of the rhododendron blooms.


Bear activity has been unusually high this season.  The good news is that most hikers have found religion when it comes to bears and are hanging their food and toiletries rather than sleeping with them.  Yogi and Boo Boo have been working overtime.  Bears have entered shelters and stolen packs in search of food and destroyed tents.  Shenandoah has closed a section to camping and bear sightings in the PATC’s 240 mile section have been frequent.

While at Raven Rock shelter, MD, Robin and I hiked down to the old Devil’s Race Course shelter location (now torn down) and dismantled the fire ring.  That will help make it less inviting for high school drinking parties that caused the new shelter to be built up a steep hill from there.

Now, it didn’t happen by accident that I timed my hike to be at Annapolis Rock for July Fourth ’cause guess what?  You can see fireworks from that lofty perch.  Unfortunately the rain was falling in buckets with heavy fog.  We saw zip, but the campground was nearly full in spite of the forecast.


The clouds were clearing the next morning when I set off for Crampton Gap after a quick photo op with Robin.  It was Kyle’s day off (the other Maryland ridgerunner), but I’ve been out with him before and we intercepted him along the way.  He’ll be there through Oct. 31, so we’ve got plenty of time.

The AT foot bridge over I-70.


The original Washington Monument outside Boonsboro, MD.  My camera lens was foggy with sweat!


C&O Canal lock # 33 just outside Harpers Ferry.  I’m standing on the tow path.


Back to Virginia and Shenandoah soon.  Sisu

Waiting for g OD ot.


Dick’s Dome Shelter, VA, AT mile 984.3, June 24, 2016 — My friend Denise texted me this morning that she was headed my way, leaving the trailhead at Hwy 522 Front Royal, VA. Her ETA at Dick’s Dome: 7 pm. She’s late, but that’s okay. I’ve been talking to the hikers and exploring the new “Whiskey Hollow” shelter under construction about 100 yards away.

My last visit to Dick’s Dome: Stink Bugs + Notebook Odds and Ends

Denise is my trail crew friend, now known by her trail name “The Optimistic Dictator,” OD for short.  Readers will recall that I hiked with Denise in Georgia as she started:  They’re Off  I’ve also written about our adventures here: Let’s Go Hiking.


The PATC 2016 Ridgerunners

When she texted I was with the PATC ridgerunners finishing our monthly meeting.

This month we chose the PATC Highacre “cabin” in Harpers Ferry.  It’s within 50 yards of Jefferson’s Rock if anyone cares to look it up.  Regardless, nice view of the Potomac River.

The gathering includes a Thursday evening social followed by a Friday business meeting.  These are hard working folks who patrol the trail, teach Leave No Trace outdoor ethics, act as ambassadors to the hiking community, clean up trash and privies, and patch up blisters and more serious injuries and afflictions.

We learned that the number of thru hiker reaching Harpers Ferry is up 18 percent over last year.  We’re somewhat skeptical of this number’s legitimacy. Here’s why.

In recent years more and more hikers appear to be “yellow blazing.”  That means they hitch rides ahead and don’t actually hike all the trail.  For example, I saw hikers at the Hoodlum’s hiker feed who appeared in Harpers Ferry, 100 miles north the very next day when I was there.  Hummmmm……  The younger generation is going to hell, and it always has!

Flash forward.  With dusk on the horizon, I pulled up my WordPress app and began my thoughts.  Just then OD rolled in. It was marvelous to see her now after wishing her well at mile 80. She’s nearly 1000 miles into her hike.  That’s a big odometer number by foot.

We took up residence for the evening at the Whiskey Hollow shelter under construction.  It’s going to be a nice one.



Our itinerary marched us through an Appalachian Trail section branded the “roller coaster.”  It’s a series of steep pointless ups and downs, more of a toothache in the grand scheme of the 2,200 mile trek,  than a serious challenge, but nevertheless…  I’ve often said it’s like an outlet mall where Pennsylvania ships its surplus, worn out rocks, and the stones that don’t sell.  This time it occurred to me that the roller coaster may also be where PA’s fugitive boulders go on the lam. That is to say there’s no shortage of miserable rocks on the roller coaster.

So, there I was. It was hot, humid and I was now hiking with someone sporting “trail legs.”  Like a Philip Marlow client, the dame’s spandex oozed confidence and strength. Her glimmering smile stared down the roller coaster like Paul Bunyan making match sticks in the north woods. My role in this little meet up was to act as speed break.

This trip “slow-and-melting” was my middle name and I know Denise took great delight in having to stop and wait for me more than a couple of times.  How do I know?  She loved  telling the story.  Yea Denise!!!


We found what we thought was trail magic.  Instead it was a refreshment station for a trail running group.  They didn’t seem to mind that we helped ourselves to some of their cold Gatorade!


Sometimes your dogs need a dip in cold water!

We took a selfie at the 1,000 mile mark (L)  GA in March (R)


Raven Rock, VA


Trail Magic at Keys Gap from a 2014 thru hiker and her mom.


A happy hiker reaches the psychological mid point at the Appalachian Trail Conservancy in Harpers Ferry.

The official enshrinement in hiker history.  This is a strong young woman.


Did I tell you that a bear tried to chew through Denise’s kevlar “bear proof” Ursack food bag in Shenandoah National Park?  In this case, bro bruin chomped into a bottle of sriracha sauce.  Hope this particular Yogi learned his lesson. That stuff is liquid bear spray.

Oh the adventures OD has had!  Stay tuned…


These are difficult decisions. You have to know yourself and how deep you can dig. I’m following several faster and much younger hikers ahead of Karma. The snow is challenging both physically and mentally. The cold weather has been brutal at altitude. Then, if you are unfamiliar with high altitude hiking, the shock to your system can be stunning. Altitude sickness is common. It features headaches, lack of appetite, lethargy and inability to sleep. I’ve been there and done that. As Karma says, this isn’t her first rodeo. She’s bagged a major thru hike. Maybe it’s time to savor the journey, and not the death march.

Karma on the PCT

The day of badassery having been acknowledged and celebrated, a human’s got to know her limits. Forester was mine. Not all trails work for all people — and hey, 800 miles is nothing to sneeze at.

At least the desert had hummingbirds!🙂

Yesterday morning my shoes were frozen solid, and my socks and pants were still wet and icy cold. This morning my tent was frozen. And in addition, someone seems to have flicked the mosquito button to the ‘on’ position. They’re suddenly swarming, and they’re relentless. Also large.

The altitude is affecting me much more than I thought it would. Can’t hike fast, can’t sleep, can’t breathe well. I’m really tired–and it’s making things very hard.

My PCT adventure is likely at its close. I could skip the Sierra, but that’s not ideal. And there’s still too much snow in Washington to go that far north. Best to…

View original post 49 more words