[at-l] Harpers Ferry to Duncannon Trip Report - Day 9

[papabear.nyc at verizon.net (Papa Bear)]

Friends

Just one more day to write up after this, hooray!  I have now put all of the
trip report (which is now about 90% complete) onto my web site.  Some of you
will prefer to read it from the web with the imbedded links, lots of photos,
etc. then to read these long accounts piecemeal.

The link is:
http://members.bellatlantic.net/~vze2h6gy/papabear/AT2003_HF_Duncannon.html

I you wait a little longer (hopefully by tomorrow), I will have the last day
up there as well and then the account will be complete.

For those happy to read it this way, read on ...
Pb

=============================================

Day 9: May 18, 2003 - Campsite on the Little Dogwood Run to Darlington
Shelter
Weather: morning temperature low 50?s, rain, clearing in the afternoon.

Today was the longest hiking day planned - over 18 miles.  There is no
camping allowed in the Cumberland Valley - except for a spot outside of
Boiling Springs which did not appear particularly inviting.  It had rained
all night and it continued raining lightly as we got up and packed up our
stuff.  One of the pains of tenting in the rain is packing up a wet tent
which tends to get everything in your pack wet if you're not careful.  But
there was no putting it off, and we were all looking forward to breakfast in
Boiling Springs.  I was up and about at 6:15 and was on the trail just after
7:00 AM.  There was but one hill followed by some flat walking through farm
fields along the 4 miles to Boiling Springs.

Flick was the first off, about 10 minutes before me, and the others would
follow shortly.  Southern Yankee passed me just before we hit the farm
lands.  Hiking through the fields was fairly weird. The AT had an access
route through the fields that would go first straight across and field and
then straight along the next.  Thus it would zig-zag across the fields in a
rectangular pattern on a grassy strip about 8 feet wide.  The fields
themselves were not yet planted. (A friend told me when he did this section
it was late in the season and the fields were full of corn higher than his
head.  He could see nothing more than a few feet to the side and got lost a
couple of times.) In this situation I could see the trail both in front of
me and behind for at least a half mile. A zig-zagging grassy strip crossing
the brown fields.  The rain and mist made it more eerie. I saw way up in
front, Southern Yankee making his way along, and way behind, another hiker
following, most likely Loki.

I got to the ATC office at 8:30 and found Flick and Southern Yankee on the
porch talking to "Dallas", an ATC volunteer.  The ATC had just started
opening the place up on weekends and it was a welcome spot to find open on
this wet Sunday morning.  Within 15 minutes Loki and Pokey showed up.  We
all stowed our packs on the porch and went to find the Lake View Cafe, which
the Companion indicated was open for breakfast and lunch.  Visions of
pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon and home fries - with ketchup - danced in my
head.  We walked several blocks around the end of the lake and found the
restaurant.

DRAT! The sign said "Open Sundays 10:00 AM to 6:00 PM".  There was vast
collective disappointment from five hungry hikers.  We walked across the
street to a gas station where a few locals were hanging out in the drizzle,
and asked them if they knew any place that might be open for breakfast.
They were fairly useless and soon got into a discussion with each other
along the lines of: "Gee, someone should open a restaurant."  "Yeah, let's
open a restaurant, that would be an easy way to make money."  "Blah, blah,
blah."

We went inside the food mart that was part of the gas station and scurried
around looking for things to eat. Oreos, Candy bars, potato chips, soda,
whatever.  I discovered that they had hot dogs grilling in a little electric
grill that kept about 6 rows of dogs grilling on rollers that were slowly
turning. I figured well, at least that would be something hot, so I got two
dogs and some Gatorade. The hot dogs were AWEFUL!  Luke-warm (or more like
luke-cold) and no taste whatsoever.  I gobbled them down nevertheless, drank
the Gatorade and headed back to the ATC.  So much for my long anticipated
breakfast - I was outta here!

At the ATC I made a few calls - one to my hiking partner whom I would be
meeting on the trail tomorrow.  I had to leave a message, which I hate - you
never know if they'll get the message or if they left town for the next
month or what.  So off again I was by 9:15 AM.  There were 8 very wet miles
ahead of me to get to Route 11.  There I would have another chance for a
meal.  This section was not so much through fields as through marginal land
between roads and fields - mostly low lands crossing many creeks and boggy
areas.  The worst wasn't the rain, which was fairly light, but the constant
mud.  The entire trail was through grass where a treadway had been worn by
many hiker feet into soft dirt.  After a few days of rain this was a mud
path, sometimes 6 inches deep.  My boots, my gaiters, and my Frogg Togg
pants were covered with mud.  The pants had mud splashed up on the inside of
both legs all the way up to the crotch!

I reached US Route 11 just after 12:00 noon.  Dallas had assured me that the
Middlesex Diner was just .4 miles down the road, not the 1 mile it said in
the Companion.  From the place where the AT crossed the highway on a
pedestrian bridge I could see a myriad of trucking facilities, and maybe
that was a diner way down the road a piece.  There were truck depots, truck
repair facilities, truck diesel stations and even companies that specialize
in truck wrecks!  I figured well, this diner will be a truck stop, no doubt
about it.  I walked the 10 minutes it took along the edge of the highway,
crossed over to the diner and what to my surprise do I see but well dressed
people everywhere.  Grandmothers in Sunday clothes, well scrubbed children,
fathers with ties on. mothers carrying babies - this did not look like a
trucker crowd.  In my scruffy beard, wet pack, mud covered boots and clothes
I definitely DID NOT flit in!  But the young lady at the desk was nice
enough to pretend not to notice.  I said "One".  She said "Oh,would you like
to sit at the counter?"  "Sure" I said.  And I lucked out.  The only two
disreputable guys in the place were seated there.  Guys with long hair and
dirty shirts and rough language.  I had found my element!  I ordered a huge
lunch with home fries, sweet potatoes, (hey, I get two vegetables!), and
home made meat loaf with gravy.  Tons of good greasy food. I relished it.
And only $6.95 plus tax and tip (You know the tax in Pennsylvania on
restaurant meals is over 10%  - isn't that a bit much?)  I tried again and
this time managed to hook up with Fresh Air, my hiking partner, and we
arranged a rendezvous tomorrow on the trail on Cove Mountain.

I walked back along the highway to the trail and as I got up onto the
pedestrian bridge what was that in front of me? - a shadow!  Not exactly a
shadow - more like a shadow of a shadow - but it was there. The rain was
abating and the sun was struggling to burn through the clouds.  I had seen a
hiker cross the bridge as I approached so I knew one of my compatriots was
just a little ways ahead of me.

I managed to catch up to  Loki and Pokey as they took a break just before
the overpass over I-81.  It was Pokey I had seen crossing the pedestrian
bridge over Route 11.  I said the diner was great, they should have tried
it.  But Loki said the bad hot dogs she had for breakfast were solidly
sitting in her stomach and she had lost her appetite for the day. Well I
certainly didn't lose mine!  I moved on through more fields and some rather
nice wooded lowland areas.  I crossed over Conodoguinet Creek on a walkway
on the side of a bridge and then turned left down to the creek.  Then in a
rather unintuitive move, the trail turned left again under the bridge we had
just gone over.  Why didn't we just turn down from the right hand side of
the road after crossing the bridge?  Must be a legal issue.  The path under
the bridge was on a mud covered concrete abutment right next to the rather
full and very brown waters of the creek. I was extra careful here. This
would not be a good place to slip in the mud.

The valley walk was coming to an end and after crossing Route 944 around
3:00 PM, the trail entered real woods and started to climb.  Thank goodness,
I would at last be leaveing the mud behind.  The climb was at first easy,
then a little stiffer,and finally it was a full fledged climb with rock
steps and switchbacks.  Near the top there was a beautiful viewpoint looking
back over the Cumberland Valley. A seat had been fashioned out of rocks
right at the side of the trail.  The rocks said "Sit here and tarry a
while."  The sun had by now made a reappearance in the sky and the valley
below was green and verdant in the afternoon sun.

But unfortunately I was not done for the day, so I moved on over the top of
the ridge and arrived at the Darlington Shelter a little after 4:00 PM.  I
was done but not entirely done.  I went down a rather long trail to a
spring, pumped water, rinsed some things in the run off and got back to the
shelter. I spread my wet things out to dry, including my tent.  I scraped
off as much mud from my boots as I could and then relaxed.  I had hiked
close to 20 miles today and it was good to rest.

Loki and Pokey showed up and did the same chores.  Finally Flick showed up
and we were a foursome.  Flick might have been expected to be way ahead of
us, but he had stayed in Boiling Springs till around 11:00 AM since he
needed to resupply.  He had a bag full of food he had bought - it must have
weight 10 or 12 lbs.  We kidded him about his now very heavy pack, but he
was very proud of managing to get all the supplies he needed and make it
here through the mud after such a long day.  Southern Yankee, who had been
with us last night, had kept going to the next shelter.  By 6:00 PM the sky
was clear, the air was cool and it was a beautiful day - finally.

The Darlington Shelter was a bit unusual.  It was made of plywood and what
seems like construction cardboard.  The floor boards were all chewed up,
probably by Porcupines, and in one place a piece of plywood was nailed to
the floor over a hole.  This made that spot impossible to sleep on due to
the hard bump this "repair" had created.  It was painted red with white
trim, and it looked more like an old tool shed you might see behind a farm
house than a shelter.

I got to sleep and slept rather well.  I got up a little past 11:00 PM to
take a pee and I noticed 2 very strange things: number one - the stars were
out brightly, and number two - there was an electric head lamp shining from
the picnic table.  At first I thought one of us had got up to do something
and I went over and found someone reading under the picnic table.  I said
"What are you doing here?", still thinking it was one of us.  He said "I
just got here and didn't want to disturb anyone. I hiked 36 miles to get
here today!".  Wow! talk about crazy!  His name was "After Burner" and he
had to meet a friend in Duncannon the next day so he had to make time.  With
that and a shrug, I went back to bed.

Day 9 Trail Miles: 18.3, Extra miles: 2.0, Total: 20.3
Aggregate Trail Miles: 113.5, Aggregate Total: 126.6