Jail House Rock

When I woke up yesterday, it wasn't raining. I had slept relatively well and my feet weren't particularly sore. In trail terms, that's about as good of a birthday as you can get but for one reason or another I was in a sour mood. 18 miles sounded awful, more rocks sounded tedious and walking in the blazing summer sun was about the last thing I wanted to do, especially with the threat of severe thunderstorms on the horizon, prodding us to walk ever faster. I can't explain how I was feeling so I treated myself to an entire bag of Starbursts and it did, in fact, help. 

The walking was actually decent, interrupted by massive boulder fields, though not so many as to drive me to madness. 2pac, Beetlejuice, Red Knees and myself got into a few long-winded conversations on ethical behavior of multi-national corporations, home schooling, farming subsidies and genetic modification of corn crops. We were really getting into it. 

About 6 miles into the day we came to a rocky ridge line called the "Knife Edge" and man they weren't kidding. The entire ridge is completely exposed and composed of 45 degree angle jagged boulders on top of which we were, allegedly, supposed to balance and walk. Beetlejuice and Dip 'n Sip seemed to float over the rocks while the rest of us stumbled, slipped and generally tried to fall to our deaths. As we descended off of the knife, my mother called to wish me a happy birthday and of course I picked up for just long enough to say "Hi, I love you, thanks for the birthday wishes, I'm falling off a mountain call you back soon bye!"

The rest of the hiking was more of the same. We finally came down off the ridge into Lehigh Gap at around 3:00pm and got to the business of hitching into town. It was tough but finally a pickup truck pulled over and allowed us to pile into the truck bed. 

Palmerton is an adorable town with a Main Street lined with stores, restaurants and a park with monuments to the Palmerton veterans who have died in battle in all the previous wars. We stopped by the post office first to pick up a care package of Market Hall cookies from my family (chocolate mint crinkle cookies say "I love you" like nothing else!) before heading down to Borough Hall to check into the Jail House Hostel which is essentially the downstairs basement of City Hall with the option to sleep in the gymnasium. 

Once we were settled and showered we rallied everyone at the hostel and headed over to the One Ten Tavern as storm clouds began to roll in quickly and ominously. What better way to wait out a storm, we figured, than with friends and cocktails in a great bar? 

The rain came, pelting down in diagonal sheets, but inside the One Ten we were dry and happy. Everyone seemed to show up - Dip 'n Sip, S'rocket, B-Line, Why Not, Whistler, Brownie, the Film Crew... So many people. Despite being away from friends and family, I felt insanely loved. We chatted, laughed, ate, drank and occasionally danced.

Partway through the night I met a woman from town named Denise. We spent a good hour or two chatting about her life and experiences meeting previous hikers. Turns out she has often welcomed hikers to her home and extended the offer to us. Suddenly, the prospect of showers, laundry and television sounded too good to pass up so we agreed on another round and to take a zero the next day. 

When we got back to the hostel after a damp walk back through town, I dragged my pack upstairs to the empty gymnasium and, in the dim lighting, I instantly needed to put on "The Wind" by Cat Stevens and dance barefoot a la "Almost Famous". It was the perfect ending to a wonderful birthday. I fell asleep shortly after on the floor, surrounded by my other exhausted comrades. 

This morning we got a slow start and called Denise once we roused ourselves. She picked us up around 10:00am and, after a stop at the post office to send home unnecessary items and a quick resupply, we went back to her beautiful home. The house is made of hand-hewn logs and was built by her husband, Greg, from the ground up. It is absolutely beautiful - warm and welcoming - with amazing personalized crafts and decorations adorning the interior. We spent the day sleeping, watching television, eating fresh fruit and hummus, hydrating, doing laundry and getting to know our new friends Denise and Greg. 

It has been a fabulous two days, full of pineapple cheesecake, long naps, great cocktails and amazing friends, both near and far. Tomorrow we get back on the trail for two more days in Pennsylvania and then further into New England. 

I Wanna Be Just Like Wendy

Wendy Davis, man. That woman is a beast. She was effectively a one-woman filibuster supporting women's rights in Texas, speaking on the subject for over 11 hours without food, water, bathroom breaks or being allowed to sit down. Out here we often hike upwards of 20 miles over some pretty nasty terrain but we always, ALWAYS take multi-hour breaks and stay well fed and hydrated. If I have to pee I just drop trow mid-trail. How someone can stand up and fight for what they believe in like that is absolutely awe-inspiring. Cheers to you, Wendy Davis, for all you do to stand up for a woman's  right to choose. 

Out here though, walking far past the point of comfort for a goal that no one except your hiking companions understands, makes us pretty tough too. Especially after 43 miles in the past two days. 

Yesterday we destroyed 26 miles. The first 20 were incredibly flat and boring as all holy hell with only two brief up hills and a devastating downhill to hold our attention. At the bottom of the hill (which I got down partially afoot, partially a-butt) was a town called Port Clinton, from which we managed to snag a hitch into Walmart for resupply and a meal (I would call it lunch) at Subway. 

We got back to the trailhead by 5pm and prepared for a beastly climb back up to the ridge line. Hopped up on sugar with musical theatre on the iPod, I basically sprinted the 2.5 miles up the mountain and, as La Vie Boheme came through my headphones and I had a Jessie Spano freak out dance. Clearly, I was unready to stop for the day, so we pressed on 3 more miles to the next shelter. 

This morning we woke up later than expected and got off to a slow start. Today I learned two things:

1) Northern Pennsylvania is, in fact, insanely rocky. Finally found those goddamn rocks. 

2) Gnats are up there with cicadas for worse trail bug ever. 

We had heard about the rocks since Georgia - the "ankle breakers" but for the past two hundred or so miles they were present, but tolerable. Today as we left the Eckhart Shelter they went from tolerable to brutal. The boulder fields of sharp, often wobbly rocks stretched as far as the eye could see and, adding in a touch of moisture to the moss covered boulders made them literally painfully slick. I fell more than once. Thankfully, Red Knees and 2pac stayed close by so we could at least commiserate in our damp, bruised misery.

Of course, to add insult to injury, there were the gnats who would find exactly the worst time to bombard our eyes with their tiny hateful bodies and proceed to curl up and die beneath our eyelids. Then, to avenge their fallen brethren, even more gnats would attack the same eye until we were essentially in tears. This bombardment, of course, happens almost exclusively while we are hiking over the aforementioned jagged rocks and don't have a free hand to swat them away. Hateful creatures. 

We went a little over 16 miles today to the second shelter out and nearly missed the rain. With tornado warnings in effect for tonight and a current downpour with occasional thunder and lightning, it feels exceptional to be tucked into a warm sleeping bag in an excellent shelter, surrounded by friends. 

I had a few moments today where, I admit, I thought of quitting. My patience was tested and my body sore. My birthday is in just a few hours and I will likely spend the majority of it hiking through the rain over rocks to get to our destination - Palmerton, PA - a town that prior to a week ago I had never heard of. It's hard to think that I could be home, with my family, friends and puppy, enjoying a glass of wine, warm and clean but instead I am choosing this life of vagrancy. I am excited to go back to my life once this experience is over, but for now - at least I will keep telling myself until I believe it, especially on days like today - there is no place I would rather be. 

Flora y Fauna

Prior to leaving on my trip everyone's greatest warning to me was to avoid bears. I, personally, wasn't too concerned about bears (though, to be fair, I was petrified at the thought of running into one somewhere mid-berry patch) but I was paralyzed with fear when it came to ticks. Awful. 

Now, 98 days into this adventure, the plant life and the critters around us are some of the most fascinating things out here. In the past two days I have seen 3 bears (a mom and two cubs), a rattlesnake (I just about peed my pants), countless bunnies (they almost got adopted and domesticated) and millions of bugs, notably cicadas. The ticks are bad but I have been lucky to only have two on me, whereas some of the boys and their thick leg hair pick them up by the dozen.

The cicadas that are out this year are the 17 year cicadas that spend 17 years gestating a few inches below the surface of the ground before bursting forth from their dark confines in all their terrifying red-eyed glory for a frantic, species-continuing orgy, dying nearly immediately afterwards, leaving the forest floor covered with their crunchy carcasses. In short, cicadas are disgusting. 

The past few days their presence has picked up again and as we have walked their crispy corpses have crunched violently under our feet. Yesterday it was particularly bad (I counted some of the bugs on the trail and stopped when I got to 500, realizing that extrapolating out the number of total dead, not just on our 1.5 foot wide stretch of trail, was almost inconceivable),  though that was about the only thing that was. We awoke somewhat late and got started with a exceptionally gradual climb up to the ridge line on perfectly maintained trail, stopping 7 miles in for a quick snack break and to check WebMD to confirm that, yes, 2pac has giardia and no, it's not all mental. 

We made quick work of the next 11 miles and were able to hitch into Lickdale, PA relatively easily, though we suffered through being crammed in the back of an aggressively rusted 1980s Lincoln with packs on our laps. Our driver, at our request, dropped us off at the local Wendy's so that we could dive face first in some Frostys in waffle cones (and French fries. And hamburgers). We then decided that it was time for a night of civilization so we checked into the Days Inn across from Wendy's and took care o all necessary town duties - laundry, showers, resupply, dinner at Sbarro (huge mistake) and some serious relaxing (I may have been asleep by 8:30pm). 

Today was relatively easy as well, though the rocks were a much bigger nuisance, leaving my feet and ankles bruised and beaten. Some vine with thorns made its first substantial appearance on the trail today as well, leaving all exposed parts of my body scratched to high heaven. Thankfully at 1:00pm we arrived at 501 Shelter to which you can have pizza delivered as it is just off the interstate. A slice or so in we realized that a storm was quickly approaching so we all took shelter in the cabin to wait it out. The rain was torrential but thankfully relatively short-lived and we were able to get back on the trail before 4:00pm after a nice long book-reading break. 

We had intended to push on another 9 miles to put today at 20 total after 501 but when we saw the campgrounds at mile 17 it was too good to pass up. We made dinner and set our plans for the next few days to make sure to get me to town for my birthday (51 hours to go! But who's counting...). The next few days will hold some big miles but it will all be worth it come birthday time. Here's hoping the AT gives me better luck on these rocks as an early present. 

Trail Angels

Trail Angels. The kind, generous, selfless men and women who assist thru hikers on their voyages through these mountains. Luckily, I have had the pleasure to meet a lot of the greats (Ms. Janet, Bonzo, Trail Angel Mary, Baltimore Jack) and perhaps the even greater pleasure to meet people that may not be lifetime angels but who took moments out of their days to aid us in our journeys with anywhere from a hitch to a cold soda to a place to stay. 

The past few days have been filled with trail angels and trail magic. The day after dinner at Skip's, Papa 2pac had to leave to head home, but not before assisting us with a 14 mile slack pack from where we left off back to Skip's (his house is quite literally half a block off the trail).

The hiking was easy and beautiful and, to my dismay, we didn't pass by any naked hikers, despite the fact that it was hike naked day. I don't know if I was disappointed or relieved. Because we were staying with the judge of the county, and fearing some serious pack rub, we opted out of stripping down to our birthday suits. Another time. 

We scooped up Beetlejuice from Boiling Springs (at the tavern, of course) and pressed on the final 3 miles to Skip's house with the promise of a soak in the hot tub propelling us forward through the brutal humidity. That night was blissful, full of cold white wine, gloriously overindulgent Italian food and fantastic friends and conversation. 

Skip's hospitality cannot be understated. For several days he housed up to four very smelly hikers. We bathed, ate and drank like royalty, washed our clothing and sleeping bags (well, at least mine), slept on the most divine beds and generally relaxed and rested our feet while playing with some of the sweetest golden retrievers that I have ever met. For hikers, used to spending all of our time smelly and outside, this is more than we ever could have asked for. 

The next morning we left rejuvenated and well fed and headed out for a 22 mile adventure. The hiking was relatively easy and we took a long break to swim in the Susquehanna River. The last 7 miles just about killed us though. People had warned us about the Pennsylvania rocks and lord did we find out why. The rocks weren't big but they were loose and begged for us to trip and twist our ankles. 

When we finally walked into Duncannon, we were all hurting. Badly. And all we wanted was dinner and as many cold beverages as we could stand to consume (at the gas station, 2pac purchased 2 large Gatorades and a slushy) and, eventually a place to stay.

We quickly determined that both the Doyle Hotel and the campgrounds were full for the evening. Our options, as we figured, were to hike on (not really an option) or to sleep on someone's floor for $7.50 (also a pretty crappy option). I explained our predicament to the bartender and she mentioned that she might have a solution for us. 

Enter Trail Angel Mary. A legendary trail angel, she immediately welcomed us into her home and we set up for the evening. We spent the night watching AT-related movies and relaxing. In the morning she offered us chocolate chip pancakes but, still hurting from the pancake challenge back in Damascus (mentally, at least) I opted to pass. 

The hiking today was relatively painless, with only one true hill that happened before mile 5. All in all we hiked 18 miles today and are now set up by a stream, ready to watch the super moon make its way across the sky.

We are expecting 5 days of rain coming up - here's hoping that the rain slows by my birthday. 

Papa 2pac

Shortly after our tragic fail at consuming half a gallon of ice cream (really, who needs to consume 300% of their daily recommended saturated fat? Not us ladies), 2pacs dad arrived in a sleek Ford Focus that, at least prior to being stuffed full of our fragrant gear, smelled of new car. Roadrunner, who is still on a strict deadline, opted to move on while 2pac, Red Knees and myself went into town for a delicious lunch at a local pub. 

How Red Knees managed to consume a chicken Caesar salad shortly after a half gallon of chocolate-peanut butter swirl ice cream still completely eludes me but he somehow managed to struggle through it. When we finished our meal, 2pac's dad, Mickey, and his comrade from college, Skip, drove us back down to the trailhead for a few more miles of slack pack. 

After 26 miles the previous day and 5 miles that morning (where, mind you, I made the mistake of not using the privy in the morning in favor of making it to a place with indoor plumbing...almost a disastrous decision), we were exhausted and in no mood to hike. We pushed on, however, through simple terrain to put us at a total of 14 miles for the day - not shabby all things considered. 

When we arrived at the road crossing, Papa 2pac was there, like an angel sent from the heavens, with a 6 pack of Yeungling and several bags of chips. We chatted on the ride back to the hotel and figured out our plans for the following days. That evening we dined at the Boiling Springs Tavern with Skip, his wife, and two of their friends. If we hadn't been so astronomically exhausted we could've made quite the night out of it but by 10:00pm I could barely hold my head up much less carry on intelligent (or even marginally comprehensible) conversation. 

This morning we awoke relatively late by hiker standards (around 8:00am) and prepared to head into Gettysburg to spend time exploring the museum and battlefields. A few days prior I had spoken on the phone with my brother and father where they, the history buffs that they are, had bombarded me with requests for pictures of Little Round Top and spewed stories at me of the 2nd Maine and their heroic stand on that defensive position (we learned today that it was in fact the 20th, not the 2nd. Way to go, pops). 

Gettysburg was amazing. Having the opportunity to be walked, step by step, through the battles on those fateful first days of July, 1863 was inspirational, even more so when you realized what this battle ultimately meant for so many. For me it was an eye opening experience about the trail: the Confederate troops had walked into Pennsylvania over the Blue Ridge, essentially an identical path that we had taken up to where we were now. For so many others it was a signifier of the turn of momentum in the war and a symbol of unity and freedom. 

Hands down, Gettysburg has more monuments than the entirety of Washington, D.C.  Perhaps not all quite as grand, but each division has a monument in the location at which they were stationed, dedicated to those soldiers who were hurt or wounded in that battle (a grand total of 51,000). It was nothing short of fantastic. 

After venturing to many monuments and, for my families sake, getting the obligatory picture atop Little Round Top, we headed to the Appalachian Brewing Company for lunch. All the beers that we sampled there were fantastic and the food was excellent to boot. 

I was exhausted. Who knew being a tourist was so tiring. Somewhere between sleep and awake I managed to buy a new pair of shorts for the trail, resupply and write postcards to several of my dear friends back home. I apologize in advance if my writing is at all illegible or nonsensical. 

Around 6:30pm we headed back to Skip's for dinner and good company and boy was it. We sat on the porch of his 18th century two family row house (that has since been masterfully converted to a single home with diametrically opposing personalities when viewed from the outside), drinking wine and sharing stories. We eventually moved to the tavern, a small building just out the back of his home, and continued to chat and enjoy delectable barbecue until well after the sun had set. 

It was a great evening and now, well after hiker midnight, as I write with quite literally one eye open, it is time to retire and begin to dream of the miles that will be covered in the coming days. 

Come to Jesus Moments

The trail giveth and the trail taketh away and when it hands you a questionable hand, you need your trail family there to make sure you're all in or, when necessary, to tell you when to fold. 

Red Knees, 2pac and myself are all in. After our leisurely evening in the park sleeping on the picnic tables we got started at a reasonable 8:00am. Having stopped a mile early the night before, we were treated to a flat, easy mile prior to our first climb of the day (plus we were forewarned by a gloriously bearded Gandolf-like character of the timber rattlers that were rampant around the last shelter). The ensuing climb was sweaty and steep but relatively short-lived and the first 5 miles flew by. From there it was an occasionally steep and rocky, occasionally gradual descent into Caledonia State Park. 

2pac and I had fallen a back a bit from Roadrunner and Red Knees but we spotted them relaxing at a picnic table with Morning Kid and Bamboo just outside the snack bar (leave it to hikers to immediately seek out food). First things first I purchased the largest Mountain Dew they sold and lord was it delicious. We then relaxed for another hour or so, napping atop picnic tables or in the grass (as if I didn't already have enough poison ivy) before feeling a few telltale raindrops and deciding it was time to get on the road again. 

The climb out of the park was short and steep but once at the top the trail leveled out and 2pac and I began to fly down the course at a speed of at least 3 miles an hour, giggling up a storm the whole way. 7 miles into the second half of our day we caught up to Red Knees who informed us that we only had two miles to go. He then informed us at the next road crossing that he was sorely mistaken and that we still had a valley to climb down and back up prior to being within two miles of the next shelter. Thanks buddy.

The shelters in this section of southern Pennsylvania are absolutely beautiful. One shelter, the first out of Caledonia, boasts a picket fence, hanging pots of vibrant pink flowers, various board games and a retractable wind tarp for the covered picnic table. Most if not all of the shelters have a privy and the wood of the structures is finished. My hat is off to the PATC for their incredible efforts in maintaining that section. 

When we arrived at Birch Run Shelter we had already gone 21 miles for the day and, though a little damp, were none the worse for wear so we began to throw around the idea of pushing on 5 more miles to get to the official halfway point of the AT. Partway through a hearty dinner this hair brained idea became a reality so we hastily cleaned and filtered water to bring with us. 

Of course, less than a mile into this last trek we begin to hear thunder in the distance so we hasten our pace. The closer the clashes get, the quicker we walk and by the time the downpour has started we are somewhere between an Olympic power-walk and a jog. Red Knees continued to push on at that speed but 2pac and I, realizing that we were already thoroughly soaked through, decided to slow down slightly. Nevertheless, we made it to the halfway point, 5 miles from where we started, in an hour and twenty minutes. We were exhausted. 

Unfortunately, the actual halfway sign is another 2 miles or so on (the trail length changes every year and they don't bother to move the sign) and the campsite we were planning on staying at was occupied by a church group of screaming prepubescent girls which, after 26 miles, we were in no mood for. 

About a quarter mile down the trail our campsite guru Red Knees found a stealth camping spot that he deemed flat and rockless enough to meet his stringent requirements. We set up quickly and were asleep by the time the sun set. 

The next morning we set out to hike the 5 miles to Pine Grove Furnace State Park for the legendary AT half gallon challenge. The hike was quick and knowing that we were so close to some semblance of civilization kept us in high spirits despite our aching muscles from the previous days hike. 

Red Knees and Roadrunner destroyed the half gallon challenge. 2pac and myself could've but we opted out to save ourselves from the excessive dairy-induced pain. We instead saved ourselves from the promise of lunch with Papa 2pac and a stroll around the AT museum. 

Firefly Paparazzi

I'm on the verge of sleep, lying on my stomach on a picnic table in a small but beautiful campground with gently sloping lawns and air filled with the faintly chirping contemplating retiring for the evening. Bon Iver is playing over the camp speakers, just loud enough to complement the sounds of the forest. 

The quarter moon isn't enough to quite illuminate the sky and through the trees, the bulbs of tiny fireflies flash out of sync. The batteries on my headlamp have long since died and for the life of me I cannot figure out how to change them so my eyes strain into the darkness, though I know what and who is surrounding me - the Germans, Smokes and Smiley Virgin, are still working their way though what appears to be at least a gallon of macaroni and cheese. Red Knees is completely fascinated and enthralled by his new iPhone, after being out of contact for the past 500 miles. Roadrunner is working on his journals in the vain hope of catching up on the prior 20 days before it is too dark to make out the words on the page. 2 Pack is lying with her back to me on the picnic table across the way, nose buried in "Wild" by Cheryl Strayed. 

Earlier in the day I have had the blessing of speaking with good friends, family and loved ones. We have pressed up steep hills in the hot, heavy air. We crossed over the biscuits and bagels line and entered our seventh. We have once again been blessed by the kindness of strangers who have offered us some of their time and a quick ride into town. 

The boys have now ventured off to sneak into the pool area of the campsite and from the dry warmth of my sleeping bag I can hear splashes as they assuredly push each other into the cold water. The sounds of the birds have died down and 2pack has turned off her head lamp. My eyelids are heavy.

It has been a good day. 

Basketball Blazing

I don't give a damn about professional basketball. Or college basketball, high school basketball or any other kind of basketball for that matter. But our dear friend Monk is a huge fan of the Miami Heat so we have planned our hikes around proximity to a television for pretty much the past 100 miles. 

After our night in Harpers Ferry, sleeping in Bonzos yard, we got a late start, heading out of the historic part of town at around 3:30pm, planning only on going 10 miles at most. Goatman, Beetlejuice and Monk got a ride into DC with Red Knees' parents so out hiking party was down to 2pack, Red Knees, Roadrunner and myself, with the expectation that Beetlejuice and Monk would catch up in the next few days (before my birthday, I warned them, or there would be hell to pay!)

The hiking was quick, easy and flat. Approximately 10 miles into the day we crossed through a state park where we made dinner and charged our electronics. The park was the previous scene of Civil War battles and was littered with monuments and remains of old stone buildings. 

Once we had eaten and the sun began to drop below the trees we packed up our things and headed a bit up the hill and set up our things to stealth camp (the shelter was 0.3 miles off the trail...no thank you!). It was a bit of a tight squeeze but the ground was soft and I was tuckered out.

To continue the theme of basketball blazing, even in Monk's absence, we decided to hike into Smithsburg, MD that evening to watch the game. We woke early and were on the trail by 7:30am. The day went by quickly and was incredibly productive: we were able to stop and shower at a campground 7 miles into the day and completed all 21 miles by 5:30pm, with the exception of some rain, none the worse for wear. 

We hitched into town with two old church ladies with cat litter in the back of the car and were dropped off at the laundromat to clean everything we owned. Finally fully clean, we walked down to the Wolfes Den, a biker bar in the center of town, and ordered dinner and had the TV changed to the game. 

The Heat lost but we won big time. The owner bought us a pitcher of beer and when the game was over the bartender drove us back to the trail head to fend for ourselves. The shelter was only 0.2 miles up but with no headlamp and slightly confusing trail markers 2pack and myself ended up in ankle deep mud, giggling so hard we nearly peed ourselves. 

We made it to camp shortly thereafter and clumsily set up our tents in the dark. Sleep has never felt so good. 

So far today we have done 10 remarkably challenging miles into Pen Mar County Park where we are relaxing before heading on to cross the Maryland/Pennsylvania border as well as the Mason Dixon line (sweet!) Only 8 more miles to go before we rest. I may be asleep by 7pm tonight. No complaints here!

Goatman (or: Mister GaGa)

Yesterday I lost my first toenail. I have been waiting for this to happen for some time now, especially after reading the AWOL book and believing it to be an absolute inevitability that I would eventually end the trail sporting a necklace of lost nails and limbs that I had mercilessly hacked from my body in order to stop the pain. Paired with what else we lost yesterday, however, my trivial complaints seem foolish. 

Today Goatman had to get off the trail due to a foot injury. In my logical mind I know that this choice, one that I support wholeheartedly, is the right one, but my logical mind takes second fiddle to my heart when I see my friend, hiking buddy, trail family and source of constant laughter driving away, not knowing when I will see him next. 

I remember the first time I met Goatman back in North Carolina. We were at a shelter - I believe Muskrat Creek - "high" atop a mountain (back before we knew what real mountains were) with brutally cold winds that forced you into your sleeping bag far before the sun had fully set. He was rolling with a group that I found awesomely intimidating (read: I was intimidated by their awesomeness) - a spunky girl named 2 Pack and a magnificent bearded man named Headstand (now some of my closest friends on the trail). He was notably quieter than his companions (oh how the tides have turned!) and all I remember him saying was something about if he lost weight he'd be in big trouble because REI doesn't make a smaller pack. I was pretty sure this guy was too cool for school. 

Hiking with him for the past weeks has been nothing short of an absolute delight and pushing forward into Harpers Ferry without him yesterday on our remarkably easy slack pack was disconcerting, as was our hike out of Harpers Ferry into Maryland (our 6th state!).

It is always tough to have part of your trail family fall off from the group for whatever reason and, I have to admit, part of me is so excited that for once it isn't me that is having to depart from the group. It is especially hard when that person has been as supportive a friend as Goatman. 

G-man, we miss you buddy, and we will finish this trek for you.