I’m stalling

Not like a plane, but as in buying time

I may be triple zeroing, but I’m not stalling out of my Appalachian trail hike. In fact, it’s getting good, to the point that I must take time to write you the next post.

Where am I? I’m drinking the absolute best cider of my life — a huge compliment from a cider fan— and having the best poutine of my life — which is notable due to trips in Toronto & Maine— in the adorable town of Harper’s Ferry, WV — Appalachian Trail HQ. After writing this post and having another 10%, 350 ml cider, I’ll stroll over to the ATC to give them a piece of my mind. Ok, that’s just a dream; instead, I’ll make some subtle, devastating hints that they should read my post about the philosophy of the AT.

I shouldn’t complain too much — this is, after all, a love-hate relationship of mine with the AT and its conservancy. Plus, the hiking has been amazing recently, with no bugs, great weather, and an easy Maryland trail. Everyone seemingly wants to hike right now; on Saturday, there were approx. 200 cars at the trailhead where Laurence picked me up to bring me into DC, and I’ll soon be traveling through Shenandoah National Park during peak leaf season! —Darn it, I am never going to be able to tell off the ATC after these reflections.

Well, moving now to the report on southern PA and Maryland. The ATC kindly informed hikers that there was a convict, presumed armed and dangerous, according to the the APB, last seen on the Appalachian trail on the exact section of trail that I was about to hike! Another day on the AT, another interesting challenge. Rhodie was at the hostel with me in Duncannon, heading SOBO, and we decided to hike together that day. At first, we thought that a social worker with a specialty in the homeless and addicts and a priest could pass by the guy ok in the middle of the day, if we were to run into him. Then we considered whether he could be desperate, and we decided to take a shuttle past the guy. Then, when driving, we realized we didn’t want a chance of his guy showing up at our tents / shelter, so we shuttled further past the guy to the next town / hostel at Boiling Spring. (He is, btw, gone, not apprehended.). I passed the day trying on discounted warm clothes at the outfitter and sending home my shorts.

We passed the night in Lisa’s shed-hostel, watching Field of Dreams on VHS, and I cried during the movie. That movie is so amazing in ways I had not fully realized previously, and the encounter with it was providential — more on that in the next post.

Rhodie, who may be doing 100 days on the AT SOBO, and I hiked together for several days and we seemingly enjoyed each other’s company. He is a good conversationalist, sensitive, and a Catholic convert; we also go about the same speed. Trouble (for me) is, he has a lady friend coming to hike the Shannies with him, he may leave the AT with her, and he, as an AT tourist, veers off into town often.

We share an interest in inventive AT hiking, by way of exploring side trails and roads. I have enjoyed our town-related adventures. One, however, got us into trouble. We plotted a way from a truck stop back to the AT that would have taken us through a dirt road through a deer farm on the day before deer season. Amanda, the neighbor of the deer farm, stopped us, noting the owners would be there and very protective of their $60k deer today. She had a pet german shepherd, pit bull, cat, deer, and pig, all of which lived both in the yard and in the house.

While she had concerns about her ability to drive us — it was already 1 pm, after all—, she offered to take us via back roads to the AT… Yes, please! Once she got the truck out of the shed, she had a sudden fear that we could be “mass murders,” for she sees that on tv. So, she put us into the back of the truck and brought her German Shepherd with her as she drove us to the AT. I found it entertaining when, deep in the woods, she got out of the truck to wish us well — apparently, she had lost her fear of us while driving further into the middle of nowhere PA with her keys in the ignition.

Our closest brush with death (this time around) came the next day. It wasn’t much, but I was scared out of my mind when a voice out of nowhere said to me. “Seen any deer?” He was a camouflaged bow hunter, right there on the AT, and I hadn’t seen him at all. We have a phrase in the monastery, based upon our use of initials for certain posts; since the abbot emeritus made absurd posts pretty frequently, we use his name to represent absurdity, as code for his initials; this was indeed a “William Thomas Frerking” moment!

Soon we were at Chimney Rocks, where I passed a lot of contemplative time and sent a video to the Washingtonian inviting her to coffee. I’d like to thank Michael and Becky, friend and mental health professional, for triple checking my motives with me and enthusiastically endorsing my plan. Next, we arrived at the best shelter on the AT at Tumbling Rocks, where we played a great game of Oh Sh!t with some section hikers.

Well, that’s it for now. The next post, about DC, is a doozer and I need some time to write it up. Like I said, I’m stalling.

Wow, there are Tiffany windows at St Peter’s in Harper’s Ferry (open on Saturdays, unless you are a priest hiking the AT). Those are like Sister pieces of art to the Tiffany mosaics at the St Joseph abd Lady chapels st the New Cathedral in StL —most beautiful church in America, come visit.

Ah, The Rabbit Hole restaurant has been good to me, but I may not be able to walk if I drink too many of these ciders. I’m going to sneak a cider past the rangers, down to the river, and write the next post there…