The climb out of Palmerton was one of the most fun ascents ever. I left the trail and climbed hand over fist to the ridge line to grab this photo. I sat up there for a good half hour, taking in the beautiful morning sky, and the valley below.

Delaware Water Gap is the last town in PA along the Appalachian Trail. It signals the “end” of the dreaded Pennsylvania rocks, of which I’ve had my fill.

I stayed at the Church at the Mountain’s hostel.

Many thanks to Ron “Star Geezer” of the Lehigh Valley Amateur Astronomical Society for giving me a tour of all the observatories on the club’s property.

Located just off trail, I waved to, and met Ron, while he was giving a tour of the facility to friends. An amateur astronomer, and aspiring telescope builder in my teens, I found the place quite fascinating.

The club is in the process of building a 44″ Cassegrain telescope, the mirror of which weighs five hundred pounds! I was shown the equivalent weight and size blank they formed out of concrete, which safely simulates the mirror. This way they can test the mount and balance of all components in a safe manner before the real mirror is installed.

That single reflecting component was made by the club members themselves, one of them having purchased the glass blank in Germany some fifteen years previous. Now at its third optician, the mirror is receiving the final reflective coating, at a cost of $35,000 USD!

Other scopes included a 17″ Dosonian, an 8″ refractor, and two large Cassegrains, one weighing well over 1500 pounds.

Ron is kind enough to maintain a privy on the property, near Pulpit Rock in PA, for passing hikers. He also gave me permission to pitch my tarp on the property, a privilege I was quite grateful for!

More information about the LVAAS here.

Recently, while rock hopping over potential timber rattler homes, I listened to Cal Newport speak on the Rich Roll podcast. Therein he described solitude as the absence of other human input entering your brain. In other words, a space where all thoughts are completely your own.

Listening to a podcast? Not solitude. Reading a book? Not exactly solitude either. Listening to music, or angry rattling reptiles? That counts.

It’s a beautifully succinct description, and the fact that it even requires definition is telling. We are less and ever less freely able to find solitude, even when walking completely alone along a ridge line.

One profound shift since my hike in 2016 has been the prevalence of Instagram use among hikes. The hard copy trail registers located in every shelter are barely written in anymore. As one Class of ’99 hiker told me.

“Your generation doesn’t even know what to do with those anymore!” As I flipped through the pages of one.

I do know though. I miss the art and poetry they once contained. I miss the messages of love and support hikers used to send to each other. I miss the heart break and release of men mourning the loss of their wives. I miss the veterans speaking about finding peace again. I also miss the jokes and Teddy’s privy reviews.

There is a wonderful aspect to putting a face to a name you’ve seen in the trail logs, entries dated just ahead of you, for months. A simple joy unintentionally undermined by Instagram and social media in general.

Maybe I’m being a curmudgeon. I do believe there is a disparaging affect to being so instantly connected out here though. It seems quite antithetical to the pace of trail life.

Part of my love of the trail is that there are no Jones’s. There’s no politics, and quite rarely religion for that matter. The trail is where I go to ladle the primordial soup of ideas, endlessly bestowed on less distracted minds. Tapping into that wellspring becomes damned difficult with The Trek celebritizing the guy you started on Springer with. Suddenly, the Jones’s are back.

This trail is one of the last bastions of REAL human contact left to us. People are what make the AT memorable, the people you’ve shared air and food with. The people you like and follow, because you genuinely enjoy their company, not their fucking selfies.

I am no less affected. Sad that I have to make a conscious effort to curtail my Facebook and Instagram use out here, but there it is. Little squares on my telephone stealing the peace of hard-earned views. I sat on Pulpit Rock in PA tonight, suddenly stressed that three people were texting me at once. I turned that shit off, took in a breath, and became aware of the breeze on my skin. I watched the lights in the distance come into better view with the receding sunlight.

I almost threw my phone off the cliff then and there, but alas. I have a blog to write. Maybe if I stop posting to Facebook and Instagram, I’ll even have content for it!

“Smells like the AT!” I noted aloud, and Some Shine agreed.

There are many smells my mind identifies with the trail. Near my home in Georgia, the rotting garlic scent of Galax is the most predominant. Galax, a lilliputian plant with a lily pad appearance, is pollinated by flies. While some find the smell off-putting, I find comfort in it.

Here in Maryland though, a sweet camomile-like odor met our olfactory senses. Waves upon waves of ferns stretched before us, and I assume it is they who are permeating this tea-like scent.

During my 2016 hike, this section of trail was blessedly easy, and felt like a respite after the not at all flat Virginia. I crossed Maryland’s forty one miles in well under two days then. This year however, the traverse took four days.

The only pain I’ve felt at the site of my stress fracture occurred on the C&O section of the trail leaving Harper’s Ferry. This three mile stretch of perfectly flat, hardened ground required the same repetitive motions from my legs. As soon as the trail began upwards into the mountains again, with random rocks and obstacles to amble over, the pain disappeared.

Some Shine and I decided to set ten miles a day as the only goal, and add miles only if we felt like it. With four days of food on our backs, and ample opportunities for resupply, mile per day worries were pointless anyway.

I’ve learned a lot from the way Some Shine hikes. She’ll stop at a shelter and read her book for three hours, hike a little ways then take a couple more for lunch. Breaking up the day like this is conducive not only to my mental happiness, but my physical strength as well. It’s amazing how much my legs have atrophied in two months.

Some Shine lent me her copy of a book on Peace Pilgrim. This gentle boddhisatva woman of the Christian tradition, wandered ceaselessly across American during the Cold War days. During the height of conflict, tension and fear, she spread the Word of peace, respect, and kindness. I’m excited to learn more about her, as all I have seen so far are a few interviews of her that survive through YouTube.

Speaking of kindness, we into trail magic from two former hikers, Catfish and Coffee Bean. I was a little sheepish in accepting the food at first. I felt guilty that I had only been on trail three days, sharing the table with those who have been hiking for three months. That hesitation left immediately after my first bite into a juicy medium cooked burger.

Catfish even provided an electric leg and foot massager, powered diligently by a small Honda generator.

The couple had also hiked some three hundred miles of the Pacific Crest Trail, the photos of which were stunningly beautiful. We passed their phones around a couple of times.

After four days we crossed into Pen Mar County Park, with its clean bathrooms and multiple pavilions. It was raining and we took refuge for, you guessed it, more reading time.

We’ve been developing a protocol for arriving at bathrooms with running water. So far it includes a mandatory floss and brush session, along with a thorough cleaning of cook pots, if soap is available. Dental health takes a quick backseat among many hikes, including myself.

Some Shine and I felt some validation in this, when even the great Anish admitted to getting a cavity after each of her FKT’s on the AT and PCT. During her calendar year Triple Crown her hair began to dreadlock, because as a hiker hair care is the last thing on your mind.

Shortly after leaving Pen Mar, we reached the Mason-Dixon Line, thus concluding our first of the many states to come.

“Rawr! I’m a bear!” I spoke, while clawing at her tent’s fabric with my fingers.

It was 1am, and Some Shine also appeared to be having trouble sleeping. She had just sent me a text, so I decided to see if I could rouse her. The waters of the Potomac babbled some twenty feet away, and I had it in mind to sit by the edge with her. Our beach was secluded and snug.

Soon her laughter, and the sound of her tent zipper joined the night’s sounds.

“It’s beautiful! Let’s go for a walk!” She said, after a quick survey of our moonlit surroundings.

We were stealth camped just off the C&O bike trail. This 184 mile thoroughfare marries with the AT for three miles, as both trails leave north from Harper’s Ferry, WV. It’s the perfect place for a midnight stroll.

I used my headlamp for a couple minutes, to help us navigate the rocky slope back up towards the trail. From there we navigated by moonlight, our steps quite safe along the smooth path. Limbs from the surrounding trees provided a beautiful tunnel, lending mystery to the darkness.

At least a hundred Fireflies signaled ahead, like some haywire strand of Christmas lights in the inky depths of the forest. Soon a car passed on nearby road, and the sheer brightness of the headlights were quite jarring. I mused aloud about what the fireflies must think of passing cars. Some Shine knew the answer though.

“They’re like, quick! Mate with it!” She’s probably right?

We walked hand in hand, briefly pausing to inspect a map, which was encased in a wooden trailhead post. We talked about enlightenment, the value of releasing expectations, and mental health. A sound caught our ears and my headlamp found a pair of eyes reflecting back some fifty feet away. A raccoon looked up cautiously from the waters edge. After a half mile or so, we went back to camp.

That walk was the perfect idea, just enough exercise to burn off the residual stress energy from all of the travel we had done that day. We woke at Westmoreland Park that Thursday morning, ate lunch in Richmond and caught a train into DC. There we found the most interesting attraction to be the botanical gardens. Another train dropped us in Harper’s Ferry at 5pm, where our first task was, naturally, to procure ice cream from a nearby shop.

We had been traveling since Tuesday, and spent one night in a rest stop. Lisa decided to drive her hatchback instead of the van to save on gas. Seats folded, our sleeping pads fit perfectly in the back. With my feet flat against the trunk, my head just barely cleared the passenger seat, slid as close to the dash as it would go.

New to sleeping cars, I found rest difficult to achieve. Lisa slept soundly next to me though. This after she blocked out a lone street lamp by hanging a bandana in the rear window. She’s a pro.

The following day we arrived at her sisters house in Virginia Beach. I caught two hours rest in the back seat, as her and her sister split the drive to Westmoreland National Park. This gave the two time to talk, and me time to drastically reduce my irritability. Lack of sleep still turns me into a toddler at times.

Some Shine’s sister brought her paddle boards, and I gave the wobbly craft a go. I don’t think the smile ever left my face. We paddled down the Potomac River together, Some Shine sitting quietly as her sister paddled their boat. The reds and oranges of the clouds at sunset, along with the sea breeze and accompanying birds, made that evening magical.

The following day we donned our packs at the Richmond train station, and bid her sister farewell. The first official day of our hike would be Friday, June 7th. I’ve always been fond of the number seven.

I’m back on trail! Lisa and I have covered 72 miles so far, from Harper’s Ferry, WV, across Maryland, and into southern PA. So far my leg is holding up.

More (and photos) to come.