[at-l] The Ruck

[sdowns@premiertechnologies.com]

The short version...enough people were there they can fill in their viewpoints.
<G> Sorry y'all (or youse) couldn't all visit our lovely state! And miracle of
miracles, the trail crew we call PennDot actually turned the divots into bumps
on the Turnpike.

It's my third year, and I find it so interesting how this gathering has evolved.
The hostel parking lot only had a few spaces left when I arrived around 4:30 Fri
eve. Chef Woodelf was attending to dinner; he'd stayed too long in the kitchen
and got "volunteered." Us gals marveled at such a find -- a man comfortable in
front of the stove!

People kept streaming in, reunions on top of reunions. Felix, fresh from the
trail, had enough facial hair to pass for some subclass of South American
simian. Or the Pennsylvania Devil, but that's his story. <G> Hikers overflowed
from the kitchen onto the porch, into the piano room, across the dining room and
through the dorms. Unlike the intimate little groups of times past, this crowd
reminded me of a big Christmas party. A conversation filled every corner of
virtually every room, upstairs and down. Save a round of introductions (useful
for about 10 minutes, since MORE hikers kept coming), the mansion was a constant
swirl of Brownian motion. (Interesting statistic: a large percentage of
engineers and computer people of one ilk or another in this crowd). The concept
of "planned" activities quickly went out the window. Photo albums piled up like
leaves in fall. One crowd headed upstairs for a slide show of Ishmael's trip
with Cindy Ross & family along the CDT; Jim & Ginny followed up with their hike
through Glacier N.P. Ah, the views! The geology!

Choovers and I performed an unexpected feint: invited folks to hike N->S on
Saturday morn, then we set out S->N from the 8.5 mile point down at Emigsville
Rd. Quickly lost the crowd. <G> It was an excellent day for hiking, blue skies
and sunshine, though it wasn't a good idea to stand still for long, especially
under the hemlocks, where it was obvious that Woodelf must've skated his way
into The Ruck. Still, we made it back to the hostel before the other group,
where we discovered Earl Schaffer, his brother and his brother's wife hanging
out in the piano room. A regular hiker magnet. Before long, there wasn't
breathing room. Perhaps that had something to do with Felix morphing into his
old self over the course of the afternoon.  Earl stayed for dinner...and there
were plenty of goodies. Paula brought her killer chili as promised. Sandpiper
showed up just in time to deliver the black bean lasgana. Kahley cooked a ham.
There were salads and cold cuts galore. Whoever brought the guacamole/taco
salad...muy bueno!

Cars kept slowing down outside, peering at the tent-off: a couple of Nomads, a
Stephenson, and other assorted lightweight options. At Mountain Roamer's urging,
I had to crawl inside the Nomad. I like it -- I can sit up in it! Someday,
someday. After Earl left, the swirls of conversation continued inside and out,
in every available space, until insane hours of the morning. I was glad to make
acquaintance with a lot of newcomers (including the King & Queen of Groundhog
Day 1963, on their way back to Punxsatawny), and to learn more about the folks
I'd already met.

Tom and Maria, big kudos for putting up with people knocking around the house at
all hours, and showing up in the middle of the night (yes, that's you, Sloetoe &
Kurt). Phil Romans, if you're still out there lurking, a big pat on the back for
getting "The Ruck" started!

Cheers, "Navigator" Sandy


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