“The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate.” – Robert Browning

“The only human beings I have thoroughly admired and respected in the world have been those who carried the load of the world with a smile, and who, in the face of anxieties that would have knocked me clean out, never showed a tremor.” – Henry Brooks Adams

Day 123

I left Graymoor and headed north feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. It was a warm day and the trail was like a kiddie roller coaster with short ups and downs. I set my sights on Clarence Fahnestock State Park. Just after World War 1, an influenza epidemic hit the United States. While treating patients with the disease, Dr. Fahnestock became sick himself and died. His brother Ernest later donated the property to the government as a memorial to Clarence, and they turned it into a 14,337 acre state park and recreation area.

I arrived at NY 301 at 3:10 p.m. and saw a sign posted on a tree that there was a snack bar at the park, that it was two miles away, and that it closed at 4:00 p.m. I took off down the trail like Forrest Gump when he was being chased by the bullies. I went about as fast as I could go given the terrain and weather and my fifty-year-old feet. When you live off of crackers, granola bars, and tortillas, the very thought of a concession stand burger can make you salivate and hike like a mad man. At 3:52 I arrived at the edge of the lake in a full sweat. I ran up the sidewalk by the beach, dropped my pack, and stormed into the snack bar at 3:58 p.m. “Can I still get a burger?” I asked, huffing and puffing. “Sure,” the young lady at the counter replied. “We don’t close until 5:00.” I was elated they were still open. I was also frustrated that I had unnecessarily gone into sprint mode for nearly an hour. I stayed there 90 minutes, drying out while eating a bacon cheeseburger, ice cream, and Gatorade.

I traveled another five miles and ended my 18.8 mile day at the RPH Shelter. I arrived too late to order pizza, but once again earlier arriving hikers had plenty of leftovers and offered me some. I set my tent up and then sat around sharing stories with northbound and southbound hikers and a trail maintainer.

Day 124

New York’s reputation for having a deli or eatery at every road crossing is only slightly exaggerated. That trend continued today when I arrived at NY 52 and travelled .4 miles east to enjoy two slices of pizza. While sitting there eating and surfing the Internet, I came across an article that would serve as my inspiration today.

Thirty-three year old Drew Houston founded Dropbox, the file-sharing and storage service, at age twenty-four. He was a billionaire by the age of thirty-one. While giving a commencement speech in 2013 at MIT, his alma mater, he said if he could give a cheat sheet to his twenty-two year old self, it would have three things on it: “a tennis ball, a circle, and the number 30,000.” The tennis ball is about finding the thing you’re infatuated with. His dog gets obsessed and goes wild when you pull out a tennis ball and the most successful people he knows are obsessed with solving a problem that really matters to them. The circle represents the idea that you are the average of your five closest friends, so be sure to surround yourself with people that bring out your best. Finally, 30,000 represents the number of days the average person lives. So you have to make each of those days count.

I left the pizza place full, motivated, and with 3 liters of water, because water sources in New York are infrequent and unreliable. My afternoon hike featured a snake sighting, a deer sighting, and a stroll around the north end of beautiful Nuclear Lake. In 1958 the federal government set up a secret experimental nuclear fuel research lab along the shore of this lake. The site was fenced in and guarded and the experiments involved uranium and other radioactive materials. In the early 1970s two serious accidents occurred at the site, both resulting in the release of radioactive material. Although the site has since been given a clean bill of health, I opted not to get water there or fish for a 3-headed trout.

One of the most interesting parts of hiking the AT to me is not knowing how a day will end. What will the weather do? Will there be a flat spot to set up my tent? Will there be a water source? Will I see anybody I know? You see a day playing out a certain way and then all of a sudden something very different transpires. It is really important to be flexible, keep a sense of humor, and go with the flow.

I envisioned arriving at the Telephone Pioneers Shelter, getting water, and tenting there. When I arrived late in the day, I discovered there were no good, level tenting spots and the nearby stream was completely dry. Apparently this spot wasn’t meant to be. Little Rhino and Loligag from Arkansas were there and kindly offered me some of their water but I declined. Their water is for them and I was not yet in an emergency situation. My guidebook said if the stream is dry, hike .7 more miles and get water from a purple house just east of the trail on West Dover Road.

I arrived at the purple house and saw that a hiker named Rasputin was already there getting water from a spigot on the side of the house. The house was vacant and it was starting to get dark. We would hike on a footbridge, across a swamp, and then along a long boardwalk if we continued further north. So, we decided to go to the far side of the house, not visible by the neighbors, and camp there in the yard. Technically, we were trespassing as the only thing expressly allowed is access to the spigot. I was willing to take the chance of being cited for trespassing in order to have a nice, flat grassy tenting spot near a water spigot. In fact, as it got dark, I went back and used the warm water spigot (there were two) to give myself an Allan from Colorado-style full-body sponge bath.

Day 124 (one of about 30,000 in my life, if I’m lucky) didn’t turn out like I had planned, but it turned out just fine. Tomorrow would be a new day and I looked forward to what was in store. Why? Because right now hiking the AT is my passion…my tennis ball…and I know I will need a lot of that to make it to the end.

Fob

“It is difficulties that show what men are.” – Epictetus

“Being optimistic after you’ve got ever’thing you want don’t count.” – Kin Hubbard

Day 120

I awoke at 6:00 a.m. to the sound of rain, so I rolled over and slept some more and then listened to an iBook entitled Kingdom Man by Tony Evans. After the rain stopped I headed north on a wet, puddle-filled AT. Near mile 1378.3 I passed the Long Distance Trails Crew on a break and gave them a fist pump and my thanks for their important work on the trail. Later, near West Mombasha Road and again at the Orange Turnpike, sweet souls had left jugs of water for hikers they may never meet.

While descending Arden Mountain, I slipped and fell on my behind. After not falling for about the first 800 miles on the AT, I’ve fallen about eight times since. No harm was done other than some dirt on my shorts and pack. At NY 17, I caught up with Foxfire, who was enjoying some water and apples, our third trail magic of the day. Is that too much? Absolutely not, especially when you’re talking about water… in mid-summer…on a stretch with notoriously unreliable water sources. Good job, New Yorkers!

Late in the day, I arrived at the Arden Valley Road parking area and saw a tent set up. Yes, it was full-up Trail Magic, the fourth of the day, courtesy of Uncle Rog. Uncle Rog asked if I wanted a burger, sausage, or both. I’ll bet you already know my answer. He also had a tub full of all types of snacks and a cooler full of drinks. He previously thru-hiked the AT and, like so many others, does trail magic to give back and stay connected to the AT community. After filling my stomach, emptying my trash, and grabbing a few snacks, I thanked him and hiked on.

A short while later I entered Harriman State Park which is jaw-droppingly gorgeous and will easily make my final Top 10 AT sections list. There are several things that set it apart. First, the forest is less dense than elsewhere on the trail, allowing sunlight beams to shine through and cast beautiful shadows. Next, it has long, vibrant green grass that makes you want to plop down on it and take a nap. Third, throw in scenic lakes and large boulders spread throughout the park. Finally, the trail itself is not overly rocky or strenuous, which allows a hiker to glance up more often to enjoy the views.

At mile 1385.1, after a rain-shortened 11.7 mile day, I pitched my tent in a terrific spot overlooking Island Pond. After setting up camp and having supper, I took a good close look at my trail shoes. They had served me well for hundreds of miles, but it was time to say goodbye. I set them in the fire ring, put a match to them, and sang Ring of Fire as they quickly went up in flames. (Yes, I know that is bad for the environment. So are the fumes produced in my tent each night.) With the fire still burning, I pulled out my new Salomon XA Pro 3Ds, a full size larger because the trail has swelled and flattened out my feet. Strangely, it was a bit of a morale boost being in this beautiful spot and knowing I would start tomorrow on fresh new treads.

Day 121

The first test for me and my new trail shoes came quickly this morning, as I made my way through a narrow passage of rock known as Lemon Squeezer. Actually, it wasn’t a tough challenge for my feet but did, for the first time, require me to remove my backpack and carry it over my head to get through it.

I set my sights on Lake Tiorati Beach which, according to my guidebook, would offer free showers, restrooms, vending machines, and swimming. At mile 1388.8 I took a side trail and arrived at the beach. Dozens of families were lined up grilling and having picnics, although there would be no magical offers of a burger for the passing Sir Fob. Job 1 was to hang up my wet tent to let it dry in the sun. I then showered, hand-washed a few of the nastier clothes, re-charged my phone, and consumed three ice creams and two sodas from the vending machine. The only downside to the pretty beach and picnic area was the incredibly loud noise caused by the large groups of motorcyclists who came storming by every ten minutes. After a nice two hour break, I headed back up to the trail and continued hiking.

Later in the day, at mile 1395.4, I made the mistake of not stopping to get water at a brook. I still had a little under a liter and figured there would be more ahead. That was dumb, because when it comes to water on the AT, you don’t assume or hope…you check and calculate. While climbing West Mountain, considered the toughest climb in New York, I stopped and talked to three southbound day hikers. They were Jewish and asked if I was also Jewish on account of my beard. Little did they realize this was a huge compliment for a guy whose goal of growing a respectable, visible beard ranks just below summiting Katahdin.

My climb up West Mountain was rewarded with a great view of the Hudson River in the valley below and the New York City skyline far off on the horizon. I needed water but noticed that it was a .6 mile blue blazed trail to the shelter and even further to water. Altogether that would be about 1.6 non-AT miles round trip and I wasn’t feeling that so I hiked on. My next opportunity for water was vending machine bottled water at the top of Bear Mountain, about 4 miles away. It was 6:30 p.m., I was tired, almost out of water, and now had to descend and then climb a mountain to buy water and find a place to camp before dark. Doable, but not ideal, it was the kind of stress I like to avoid whenever possible.

I made the climb up the widely popular Bear Mountain and spent $10 on PowerAde and bottled water at the vending machine. I instantly chugged two of the bottles, as the sun started to set. There was a beautiful view from the summit and a deer stood nearby watching me breathe heavily, drink, and belch. I’m sure she also was impressed with my new trail shoes. I quickly found a stealth camping spot near the summit, set up my tent, and hung my bear bag.

My new trail shoes had survived their first 15.3 mile day on the AT and three Jews had complimented me on my beard. What more can you ask for? Well…As I prepared to enter my tent, a couple of Hispanic teenagers at the rocky lookout above me shouted something in Spanish (something about Vamos a destruir Fob) and began shooting off fireworks. Great stuff, amigos!  In fact, I hadn’t seen fireworks like that since my time at the bed and breakfast in Pennsylvania.

Fob

“These vagabond shoes, they are longing to stray, right through the very heart of it, New York, New York.” – Frank Sinatra

“Reject your sense of injury and the injury itself disappears.” – Marcus Aurelius

Day 118

I crawled out of my tent and the donkeys were gone. My guess is that some of the other hikers butchered and ate them. I broke camp and headed north. Two miles into the hike I took a side trail .7 miles west to the town of Unionville. I’ve read and heard that New York and New Jersey have periodic AT road crossings with delis nearby and that the sandwiches are wonderful. I went to the End of the Line Grocery to find out for myself. I threw down a delicious egg, ham, and cheese sandwich along with coffee, orange juice, and chocolate milk. I also did some basic re-supply of food. Out on the front porch I met Big Al who lives in an apartment with his wife above the store. He asked lots of questions about my journey and told me that he and his wife were about to move “up north” to start a farm. He was super friendly and I hope his new farming venture works out for them.

At mile 1347.3 the trail turns east for a flat, open, 1.2 mile walk along the Wallkill Reserve. I appreciated the flat part, but hiking 1.2 miles in direct sunlight in the middle of summer with a 30+ pound backpack felt like about three miles. Thankfully, the trail turns back into the shade of the woods. Just a few minutes later, I stopped with a hiker named Journeyman for some Trail Magic! Some good soul left a cooler of cold sodas, jugs of water, and several cartons of raspberries.

Later in the day I enjoyed the nearly mile long walk on a boardwalk over a massive swamp. Although I was once again exposed to direct sunlight, sometimes it’s nice to get a break from the long green tunnel.

Late in the afternoon I made the somewhat challenging climb up the “stairway to heaven” to the summit of Wawayanda Mountain. At mile 1358.1 I looked up and 15 yards ahead was a large black bear foraging for berries along the trail! It was the largest black bear I’ve ever seen in the wild. Although New Jersey has the highest population of black bears per square mile of any state, it is always surprising, unexpected, and tense when you encounter one. I stopped, reached for my phone, and took two steps backward to position myself behind a tree. On the second step, the bear looked up, saw me, and took off into the woods at full speed. It was obvious that Fob was the new mayor of Wayawanda Mountain.

I went another .4 miles and, after a 15.8 mile day, found a nice stealth camping spot by a footbridge and stream. I dipped my sweaty clothes, and then self, into a pool in the stream. After eating supper I went to hang my bear bag which seemed like a smart move given my recent encounter. Hanging a bear bag involves putting a rock in a small duffel bag and attaching a fifty foot piece of parachute cord to it by a carabiner. You then throw the rock-filled bag over a branch at least twelve to fifteen feet in the air and about six feet from the trunk. The branch needs to be big enough to support the weight of your food but not big enough for a bear to crawl out on. Using the branch as a pulley, you replace the rock back with your food bag and pull on the loose end of the rope to suspend your bag in the air by the branch.

I’ve gotten pretty good at hanging bags but tonight was a big fail. For the first time on my journey, the rock bag didn’t clear the branch and got stuck in it. I mean really stuck. It was almost dark, I had just seen a bear, and I was holding an eight pound bag of food. This was not good…not good at all. I tugged and tugged at different angles but the bag remain lodged. I decided to give one final tug with both hands and all the strength I could muster. As I yanked on it, I heard a snap and the rock bag came flying at me at warp speed! Before I could even say Wayawanda, the rock struck me violently in the stomach. It hurt so bad that I went to one knee, certain it had done some damage. Fortunately it struck the softest, fleshiest part of my body (with my buttocks a close second), and would just leave a painful bruise for several days. Had it struck above my neck or below my waist, it could have been lights out for my thru-hike attempt.

Tired and bruised, I crawled into my tent. Before dozing off, I called my wife to check on her. I told her I had survived my encounter with a New Jersey bear, but was less successful in my encounter with a bear bag.

Day 119

This morning featured two unmanned Trail Magic spots…a cooler of warm soda at Barrett Road and several jugs of water at the trail leading to Wayawanda State Park. At mile 1365.4 I crossed a rocky ridge and took a break at the sign showing the border between New Jersey and New York. I posed for a sexy shirtless photo because I knew Janet not only wanted that, but needed that.

The trail in southern New York is very challenging, despite the modest looking elevation profile in the guidebook. The rocks, endless ups and downs, and hot humid weather made the first few days in New York some of the toughest hiking since Virginia. Just after crossing the border I climbed over Prospect Rock, the highest point in New York. Atop the rock someone had raised an American flag and I stopped to salute it. Despite all of our nation’s problems, this is still a great country, founded on freedom and God-given inalienable rights. I am still proud to be an American.

Just north of Greenwood Lake, the AT passes near a hot dog stand and Bellvale Farms, reportedly some of the best ice cream in the state. With storm clouds approaching, I went to Hot Dog Plus and ordered the hiker special, two long hot dogs, chips and a soda. It was so good I ordered a second one. As I started into the second plate, heavy rain started to pour. I was sitting under one of those vinyl umbrellas which kept my food and head mostly dry. However, rain hit my neck and back, drenching the back half of me. The owner wisely closed the stand and departed. So there I was…alone, in a downpour, getting drenched, and eating four delicious New York hot dogs. These are the less than glamorous moments that don’t always surface on Instagram. These are also the moments that I’m glad Janet is not out here with me, as she would be miserable and I would hate to see that. Still, it was a scene I will always remember.

With a momentary break in the rain, I walked just up the hill to Bellvale Farms for some ice cream. Several hikers were huddled inside, including Torch, Sunshine, and Moxie. As heavy rain began falling again, I ate a large cookie dough ice cream and talked to young Torch some more about a military career. I asked the lady at the counter if I could charge my phone and she said there was a hiker charging station outside, seemingly oblivious to the fact there was a torrential downpour underway outside. While waiting for the rain to stop, I had second dessert, a large chocolate milkshake. I may have looked like a wet, homeless Amish man, but for the first time in awhile, I was a full one.

Once the rain stopped I hiked north two more miles and tented near Wildcat Shelter, completing a 14.9 mile day. I was glad to see Torch, Wheels, Waterfall, and onesie-wearing Treebeard all staying in or near the shelter. Despite more rain in the forecast, I hung up my wet clothes, hoping to replace some of the sweat with water. It had been an interesting day, and it was good to feel safe, dry, and warm inside my tent.

Fob

“Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.” – Bernard M. Baruch

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“The greatest way to live with honor in this world is to be what we pretend to be.” – Socrates

Day 114

Just a few miles into my morning hike, I arrived at Fox Gap and saw some guys setting up a Trail Magic station. After helping them pitch the tent, I sat down and had a Coke and some chips. While I was visiting with them, Terodactyle arrived and sat down. He told me that he stayed at yesterday’s Trail Magic stop for five hours drinking beer, and then headed up the hill on wet rocks after the rain. He slipped on a rock and fell, landing on his head. He sliced open the top of his head and blood started pouring out. He applied direct pressure and finally got the bleeding to stop. I took a look at it and gave him some Tribotic ointment to put on it. He’ll have a nice scar but otherwise should be able to continue hiking. I guess the lesson to be learned is not to drink alcohol and hike, especially on slippery rocks.

There were at least fifty day hikers on the trail today, out getting some exercise on the 4th of July weekend. Most were headed to or from the scenic Lookout Rock at mile 1291.5. Just north of Lookout Rock, I looked down and saw the strangest looking insect. From a distance it looked like it had huge eyes, but they are just part of its shell. Curious, I did some research and learned that the insect is an Eastern Eyed Click Beetle or Alaus Oculatus. God apparently designed this insect with large fake eyes as a defense mechanism to ward off potential enemies. In effect, it wears a mask to pretend to be something it’s not. I guess we all do that from time to time.

On the AT, I can’t count how many times a passing hiker has said, “How ya doin’?” and I’ve donned the mask and said “Fine,” rather than more truthfully respond, “Well, I have moderate chafing today because my shorts and underwear are drenched in sweat…my scalp itches because I haven’t washed my hair in a week…I can’t feel the bottoms of my feet…I miss my wife to the point of crying…and 15 minutes ago I smashed a sweat bee on the side of my head and I believe its remains are lodged in my ear. Thanks for asking!”

I’m afraid too often “How ya doin’?” is just a greeting, something to say, without really the slightest interest in how the other person is doing. “Fine” is just something to say back and is hardly indicative of how the fellow hiker is actually doing or feeling. I’m afraid back in the real world I’m also guilty of this, both as the insincere questioner and less than truthful responder. Too often I’m nothing but an Eyed Click Beetle, wearing a mask and pretending to be something that I’m not.

So I’m going to work on that. I’d like to be more like my friend Jeff H. from Florida who is much more transparent about what he is facing in life as a husband, father, church deacon, etc. He’s less concerned with image and more concerned with genuinely telling it like it is. My new approach: After asking someone “How ya doin’?” and them answering “Fine” I’m going to look them in the eye and say, “Now tell me how you’re really doing?” I’m going to slow down life’s pace a tad and try to sincerely listen more and care more. I hope my family and closest friends will hold me accountable.

After 9.3 miles I arrived at the beautiful town of Delaware Water Gap. This town easily places in my Top 5 trail towns so far. For starters, the AT runs right through town so there’s no hitching or long side hikes required. Next, throw in the Church of the Mountain Hiker Center, a church hostel which offers free bunks (donations accepted), a shower, hiker lounge, lemonade, hiker box, etc. As I walked up its driveway, a friendly church couple exiting in their car rolled down the window and said, “Welcome! Make yourself at home in our hostel! There’s a gentleman up there who will shuttle you to Walmart or a grocery store or laundromat if you need that. And there’s a 4th of July concert on the lawn tonight…hope you can make it!” I thought they would just say, “How ya doin’?” to which I was prepared to say, “Fine”.

After claiming a bunk, showering, and weighing myself (188, down 46.6 lbs), I walked down the street to Edge of the Woods Outfitter for a new pair of hiking socks, backup trekking pole tips, and electrolytes. My next stop was the Village Farmer and Bakery where they offer, among many things, a hot dog and slice of pie for $2.95. While tempted to get three of those, I instead went with the barbecue brisket with mac n cheese and baked beans. That would be quite filling for a normal human. I am currently an abnormal human so I went next door to the Water Gap Diner for coffee and apple pie a la mode. As I turned around to speak to Foxfire, my 67 year old hiking friend, I spilled my hot coffee on my lap and dropped the cup on the floor. It was embarrassing and made my hiking shorts and underwear smell like Folgers for the next five days.

That night, my love affair with Delaware Water Gap continued as I dragged a lawn chair over to the pavilion and joined mostly older folks in listening to a local band put on a patriotic July 4th concert. At intermission I had two hot dogs, chips, a brownie, and lemonade. Towards the end of the concert they played a military medley. When the Air Force song was played, I stood (alone) and sang out like a proud Airmen. I got a few strange looks and a few laughs. That’s what happens when you take your mask off, show genuine emotion, and choose to be more then just an Eye Clicked Beetle.

Fob

“Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the duty of all mankind.” – Ecclesiastes 12:13

“That’s what a good wife does, keeps your dreams alive even when you don’t believe any more.” – Michael J. Sullivan

“Living the Christian life isn’t always easy, but it’s always worth it.”     – Sir Fob W. Pot

Days 109-111

I awoke, packed up, ate a pop tart, and was ready to hike in just thirty minutes. I was highly motivated because today was…(drum roll)…rendezvous with Janet day! This would be our third and final get together during my AT hike. We chose the town of Slatington as our afternoon pickup point which meant I had a 7.3 mile downhill hike and she had a four hour drive from the DC area. The most notable thing on the hike was the presence of thousands of gypsy moths along the trail. To pass the time, I tried to see how many I could step on and eventually killed nineteen of the hardwood eating pests.

There are basically three types of towns along the AT. The first are trail towns that the trail runs through that love and cater to hikers. Damascus, Virginia is an example of that. Hikers fuel their economy and they fuel hikers with their enthusiasm and support. The second type of trail town is off the trail some number of miles but still loves hikers and wants their business. They go out of their way to get hikers into town by offering free shuttles or posting the names of Trail Angels willing to offer rides. Franklin, North Carolina is an example from that category. The third category of town either doesn’t care or outright doesn’t want hikers in town. No attempt is made to help hikers get into town. I would put Slatington into this third category. The lady at the counter of the auto repair place at the trailhead was unfriendly and not interested in hikers using their restroom. If I were the owner, I would at least have a cooler of water outside for hikers or maybe a soda machine. How difficult would that be? No one offered a ride despite my hitching efforts. There were no signs about Trail Angels or town services. And to top it all off, the two mile walk into town was on a narrow, dangerous road to be hiking along.

The only friendly or helpful person I encountered was the manager of the laundromat who was interested in my hike and glad to have my business. I’m not suggesting everyone living near the AT needs to bend over backwards to cater to hikers. I am suggesting that towns, especially those in economically challenged areas, could make a lot of money on the thousands of hikers who travel through each year. It’s just interesting how some towns take advantage of their proximity to the trail and others seem pretty ambivalent.

After doing laundry I walked across the town to a Chinese restaurant and got a plate of General Tsao chicken and two spring rolls. During my hour at the restaurant, I made four trips to the restroom, which may explain why some trail towns would prefer hikers just hike on by. After my fourth trip, Zhang Wei, the owner, emerged from the restroom saying, “Nemo air freshna, some ting wong in air.” I quickly exited, crossed the street to a gas station, got an ice cream and a drink, and awaited the mid-afternoon arrival of my wife.

I just have to say that I have the best wife! When I think back over my half century old life (something I’ve had plenty of time to do on the AT), I think I’ve made five really good decisions that have impacted my entire life. First and foremost, I decided that God is real and I needed to become a Christian. So I did. That’s a decision you can’t afford to get wrong, as eternity is riding on it. Second, I chose a Christian wife who I love and who loves me. More on that in a minute. Third, together we decided to raise our children in a Christian environment. That meant a lot of things, including teaching our children about God, regularly attending Bible class and worship services, and being heavily involved in church work. That gave (and continues to give) our lives purpose and generally puts us around pretty awesome friends who share similar values. Fourth, I chose careers, in the military, as a teacher, and as a youth minister, that have intrinsic value and involved helping people. I’m glad I never had to grudgingly work just to earn a paycheck, although I would have done that if necessary to feed my family. Finally, together we decided that the best way to spend the next chapter of our lives is serving others, rather than accumulating and maintaining possessions. Whether that takes the form of RV-based domestic mission work, building houses with Habitat, doing disaster relief, or overseas mission work, it really is just about helping others and letting God’s love shine through us.

I say all that not to pat ourselves on the back…we are sinners and we struggle with issues as individuals and as a family. We need God’s grace just like everyone else. I say all that because I have run into a lot of young people out here, and a few older ones, who weren’t raised in that sort of environment. Many are searching for something. For many, God is sort of an abstract concept and the Bible is certainly not something that needs to be followed. The feeling is you just sort of believe in some higher power and be a nice person and that’s enough. Careers are often chosen based on income potential, with little regard to any larger purpose. Throw in a good looking spouse, a big house, fancy vacations, and “fun friends” and everything falls into place. Except that it frequently doesn’t, at least not over the long haul. A life with self at the center, rather than God, is a life which may eventually leave a person feeling disillusioned or empty. Some of them are hiking the AT for just that reason. I know that because they’ve told me so. Some are asking the same question asked by a Jack Nicholson movie character, “What if this is as good as it gets?” Peggy Lee expressed a similar concern in her song, Is That All There Is?

Several millennials I’ve spoken to have given up on religion because they’ve had bad experiences with boring, inactive churches that are in maintenance mode and aren’t really engaging their community and world. I say try a different church. Go on a mission trip. Serve food at a homeless shelter. Focus not on what your church can do for you, but how you through your church can impact your community and world. If your faith is boring you’re not doing it right!

Hiking the AT and being out in nature for so long can and should point people to God and illuminate his creative power, rather than just be an end unto itself. My hope is that the many folks I’ve talked to on the trail who are searching for meaning will find it in a loving God and a relationship with Christ. If this post can help influence even one person out there to consider or reconsider a God-centered life, then it will have been worth it. If I could just convince one of these millennials, or anyone reading this, to give God and faith and church another try, then my AT hike will have been worth the effort. I pray that it will, and that God will help me to more fully and completely live the ideals I’ve just laid out. I’m still a work in progress.

 

Back to Little Miss Janet, she is just an incredible wife! I feel like I won the marriage lottery and chose to have the prize spread out over a lifetime. We have been through a lot together…a miscarriage, her major kidney surgery, a robbery, a flooded house, the spandex pants she wore on Kyle and Laci’s engagement day, multiple Air Force moves, my mom’s illness, etc. She has always stood right by my side and held me up when life was making me wobble.

How many wives let their husbands be gone for six months to hike the AT? She hasn’t complained once or even hinted that I should consider quitting. How many wives let their husbands  volunteer to deploy to Afghanistan for six months? How many are willing to be dragged all over the country and world, being uprooted every few years, as a military spouse? How many, when you ask, “Hey, what if we got rid of almost everything and lived full-time in an RV?” answer, “Let’s do it!” She has been nothing but good and loving and supportive to me, and that theme would continue with our little rendezvous.

After a wonderful gas station hug and kiss, she drove me to Pamela’s Forget Me Not Bed and Breakfast in Kempton, PA. Instead of wearing the usual yellow springy dress, she purchased a yellow nighty thing that made my jaw drop. (She wore it later that night, not at the gas station.) We spent three wonderful nights there, enjoying the jacuzzi tub, delicious breakfasts, and just being together. As with our previous rendezvous, she restored me and made me feel normal and whole again, if only for a short while.

While out running errands, we went by a Pizza Hut and I remembered being at the Eckville Shelter recently, frustrated because we were unable to have a pizza delivered there. I checked the map and saw that we were just a 20 minute drive from the shelter. Figuring there were probably some tired, hungry hikers there, we got a large pizza, large breadsticks, and two liter Mountain Dew and headed that way. We also had the remaining cookies given to me by our friend, Jana Leasure.

Sure enough, there were several hikers sprawled out on the lawn as we pulled up. I recognized one of them, Tree, a hiker with whom I’ve shared a cabin and shelters. I got out of the car and, already knowing the answer asked, “We got any hungry hikers here?” In unison, they shouted, “Yes!” It was so cool to see the huge smiles on their faces and to be on the giving end of Trail Magic for a change. It was also neat for Janet to see a shelter and meet some of my fellow hikers. I started to take her over and let her flush the rare AT toilet, but then realized that may not be too impressive to her. We said our goodbyes to the hikers and headed back to the B&B for a final night of marital bliss.

I guess this particular hiking blog was more about faith and family than hiking. I’m okay with that. I write what’s on my heart. And besides, in the grand scheme of things, faith and family are a lot more important than hiking.

Fob

“Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers; pray for powers equal to your tasks.” – Phillips Brooks

“Watch out for emergencies. They are your big chance!” – Fritz Reiner

Day 107

A few miles into my morning hike I traveled through Windsor Furnace, the site of a furnace dating back to 1768. This region of the Appalachian Mountains possesses limestone deposits, iron ore, and hardwoods. Consequently, furnaces sprang up to produce iron for the colonists and later for American Civil War combatants. Pennsylvania alone had over 500 furnaces or forges. Later, Americans discovered Home Depot and the furnaces were shut down.

At mile 1224.5 I reached Pulpit Rock, an outcropping with a pretty view and the Pulpit Rock Astronomical Park nearby. I stripped down to just my hiking shorts, hung my remaining sweaty clothes on a tree branch, and laid down for 30-minute nap. When I woke up and stood up, my body sweat had created an outline on the rock, like a crime scene. A mile later, several other hikers and I missed the side trail to The Pinnacle and its panoramic view. Surprisingly, there was no sign to indicate the turnoff to this scenic spot, as you find at many famous vistas.

Near Panther Creek, mile 1230.2, I saw my first AT rattlesnake! Yes! He was about 40 inches long and just off the trail. We respected each other’s personal space and thus neither of us felt the need to rattle.

After a 12 mile day, I arrived at the Eckville Shelter on Hawk Mountain Road. I decided to call it an early day because this shelter had a shower and flush toilet nearby. After 3+ months on the trail, I find it quite fascinating and special to be able to pull a lever and watch my waste swirl around and disappear like magic. It’s a luxury we take for granted in our society. Upon arrival, I saw the freshly showered Pocahontas hiking out to do some more miles. Long Strider, Torch, One Feather and a few others also stayed at or near the shelter that night. Torch is a recent high school graduate attempting a flip flop hike…Harpers Ferry to Maine and then Harpers Ferry to Georgia. He wants to study Aerospace Engineering and become a pilot or join the military or both. I shared some of my Air Force experiences with him.

Long Strider and I were hungry for pizza and set out to find a place that would deliver to Hawk Mountain Road. We called several places within a 20 mile radius and struck out time and time again. Bummed, I took a shower and flushed the toilet because I could. I also told myself that someday I was going to return and deliver a pizza to this shelter, like I so wish someone had done for me on my 107th night on the AT.

Day 108

Today was another long, hot, rocky day. Don’t even get me started on the rocks. I started to switch to my new Salomon trail shoes but decided to stick with my current ones awhile longer because I wanted to get through Rocksylvania on them and they were still minimally serviceable.

This desire to get that last ounce of service out of a product runs in my family. My parents taught my sisters and I how to be thrifty and hoard things. I have fond memories of my mom discreetly stuffing her purse with salad bar crackers before we’d leave a restaurant. I guess she figured that if you do that over a lifetime, you might have to buy one or two less boxes of Saltines. I once looked in the freezer belonging to Ellen, my oldest sister, and found frozen Halloween candy from six years earlier! Nothing satisfies the sweet tooth like a 6-year-old frozen piece of Bit-O-Honey.

And then there’s my dad, bless his heart. I’ve never seen such a wide variety of stuff, ranging from junk to really nice antiques, in one house. He and my mom were masterful flea market, yard sale, and thrift store shoppers. Last summer I tried to help him clean out the garage, and the conversation went something like this…

Fob: So, dad, I noticed you have four new toilet seats in the garage.

Dad: Yes, got them at an auction several years ago. They were in a box of goodies.

Fob: In the interest of downsizing and cleaning out, I was thinking maybe we could get rid of three of them. What do you think?

Dad: Hmmm. Well, we have three toilets in the house, and these things can break.

Fob: Yes, but is it likely you would need to replace all of the toilet seats?

Dad: I don’t know, but if I do, I’ll have them, plus a spare.

Fob: But what if you just went to Wal-Mart and bought a new toilet seat whenever you need one?

Dad: That wouldn’t make sense because I have four in the garage.

Needless to say, we didn’t do much downsizing. And then there was the time our old toaster died when I was in high school. Rather than just go buy a new one, Dad went to his massive filing cabinets and came back an hour later with what appeared to be the Magna Carta. Unfortunately, the yellow, faded warranty had expired twenty years earlier and he was forced to get a new toaster. He placed the old toaster in the garage next to four new toilet seats. With this family history and genetics, I’ll be carrying my new hiking shoes until the current ones totally and completely die.

Speaking of warranties, I stopped at the Allentown Hiking Club Shelter to make some phone calls related to gear issues. Thanks to Rocksylvania, one trekking pole tip was completely gone and the other was about halfway rubbed off. A nice lady from Leki’s customer support team said she’s send me new tips free of charge. Also, near the center hub on my tent frame, one of the extensions has started to crack. I can still set up the frame and tent using the emergency sleeve, but I’d rather not do that for the rest of my hike. So I called Big Agnes and they are sending me a new frame. Once you tell a hiking gear company you’re an aspiring thru-hiker, they will generally bend over backwards to remedy your situation. The only other noteworthy event at this shelter stop was meeting a friendly hiker named Calorie. He is the first African American aspiring thru hiker I’ve met on the trail so far, and earned his name due to a tendency to know and share the number of calories in his food.

Late in the afternoon, the wind started picking up and I heard thunder. I checked my weather app and sure enough, a big storm was heading toward me. I estimated I had 30 minutes before it was right on top of me. I was on rocky, uneven terrain, still four miles from the next shelter. Even worse, I was one mile from the dangerous, narrow rocky ledge known as Knife Edge. This was a really bad situation to be in. I was mad at myself for not having enough situational awareness on the storm while I still had good options. Now all of my options were varying degrees of bad. I just wanted to blink my eyes and be home next to my wife, eating popcorn and watching a Netflix movie. Or have it be a video game, where you just run your doomed character off a cliff, knowing you have three more lives. I only have one life to work with.

I decided to hike as fast as I possibly could on the rocks and try to get over Knife Edge before the storm hit. This decision fell somewhere between gutsy and stupid, but I couldn’t come up with a better one. I quickly approached Knife Edge just as the first rain drops started to fall. I didn’t panic, per se, but my heart rate was way up and I said, “God, please get me through this.” I scrambled over the narrow rock ledge as quickly as I could in those conditions. I took five minutes getting through a section that would normally have taken me at least twice that time in safe and careful hiking mode. Just as I cleared the worst part of Knife Edge, the rain began to pour. I sought refuge by sitting under a large boulder at the edge of Knife Edge, which kept the rain off my head but not my knees and feet. I never saw lightning, but there was plenty of thunder and very heavy rain. I took a selfie to capture the moment, although a picture won’t be necessary for me to remember this crisis.

After sitting under the boulder in the rain for five minutes, I realized I was already completely soaked to the bone from rain and sweat, and was starting to get a chill from the drop in temperature. I decided my best move was to hike on in the storm, but to move slowly due to the slick rocks literally all over the trail. I was willing to risk falling in order to get to the shelter and not remain under a boulder getting chilled.

Just as I emerged, I heard, “What’s up, Fob?” Shocked, I turned around to see Hammer descending from Knife Edge in the downpour. I turned and said, “Hammer! Good to have somebody here to die with!” We smiled at each other, recognizing we were in a horrible predicament. Yet, oddly, we both felt a sense of relief knowing we were not alone. He said, “After you, sir…” and I headed out over the rocky trail, in a downpour, with Hammer just a few paces behind me. For the next hour, we hiked in heavy to moderate rain over all sorts of rock scrambles. We talked the whole way and, at least for me, that took some of the sting out of the situation.

The rain finally stopped just before we arrived at (Easy) Bake Oven Knob Shelter. Long Strider and a few other hikers were already there, seeking refuge from the rain under the shelter. Hammer and I made a really long and steep downhill hike to get water, and then set up our tents and hung up our wet clothes. Before sunset, a late arriving hiker stumbled into the shelter with a bleeding leg and some other scrapes. He made it through the wet and dangerous Knife Edge but then fell on a slick rock moments later. We helped him out with an antibiotic and bandage for his leg wound, after he rinsed it with contact lens solution.

It had been a tough, physically and emotionally draining, 17.4 mile day on the Appalachian Trail. The phrase “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” seems to apply here. Persevering and overcoming situations like this makes us mentally tougher and bonds us together. When the next storm comes, real or figurative, maybe I’ll be better positioned to overcome it, knowing I overcame this one. Maybe I’ll know to check the weather forecast more regularly. Maybe I’ll remember to ask God for help again. In life you and I can only dodge so many storms. Eventually, we’re going to be in one. Maybe you’re in one now. In the midst of the storm, when hope starts to fade, I try to remember that somehow, some way, God is going to get me through it and will use the situation to make me a better person.

Fob

“Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.” – 1 John 3:18

“There is no more noble occupation in the world than to assist another human being–to help someone succeed.”     – Alan Loy McGinnis

Day 104

I awoke to the sound of rain, rolled over, and slept two more hours. After breakfast at Wendy’s, I grabbed a Subway sub for later and re-supplied at a gas station food mart. I really didn’t want to walk 2+ non-AT miles back to the trailhead. Fortunately, two Air Force Master Sergeants walked into the store. That was just the break I needed. Airmen have been helping me out since 1988 and I was about to call on them again. “Excuse me, MSgt Corl, I was wondering if there is any chance you and your friend could give a ride to a retired Air Force guy who is hiking the AT.” He replied, “Maybe…you’re not a mass murderer are you?” “I’ll be on my best behavior,” I answered. I enjoyed our short conversation as MSgts Corl and Lucas went out of their way to return me to the trailhead. In addition to being communicators with the 193 Special Operations Wing, they are now officially Trail Angels.

The day was mostly overcast, weedy and, of course, rocky. I ripped a part of the fabric on the upper side of my left shoe, and the right heel continued to peel along the edge. After 11.4 miles, I hiked into the very lively and full 501 Shelter near PA 501. This shelter is 4-sided with a solar shower. The nearby caretaker’s house has a water spigot and outside electrical outlets. In addition to all that, a local pizza place delivers to the shelter. I arrived too late to order pizza, but accepted my fellow hikers’ offer to finish off some leftovers.

The shelter was full of hikers including Mountain Goat (the Aussie piano player) and Pinto/TinkTank (the daughter of my sister Ellen’s friend). I overheard one hiker say, “Poor Two Pack got Giardia. He went into town for meds but returned quicker than the doc recommended. That night he diarrhea’d all over himself, his tent, and his gear. The next morning he threw away everything soiled, gave away the rest, and quit the trail for good.” That shows how quickly a thru-hike attempt can end.

After taking a brutally cold “solar shower,” I set up my tent behind the shelter and called my beautiful wife to tell her I love her.

Day 105

Day 105 was all about rocks. Rocksylvania is officially messing with my feet…and brain.  Rather than curse the rocks, I started making up and rapping songs about them as I hiked.  A sampling….give me a beat…

I’m talking big rocks, little rocks, pointy rocks, and flat rocks.

Cracked rocks, mossy rocks, hidden rocks, and slanted rocks.

Crag and crust, minerals and ore,
I can’t take these rocks much more.

Wet rock, gravel, slab, and slag,
Trekking pole tips have lost their swag.

Chris Rock, Schoolhouse Rock, and cobblestone,
Rocky Balboa was Sylvester Stallone.

The Rockefellers, The Rockford Files,
so many rocks it’s hard to smile.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show,
can’t feel my feet, I walk real slow.

Rocks Anne, you don’t have to crush my soles tonight, those days are over, at least my Salomons put up a fight.

A little pebble, off trail, all alone,
Bet a fellow hiker passed a kidney stone.

Rock music, Rockabilly, and Raquel Welch, So much bouncing, gotta belch.

Rock, paper, scissors; and look, another boulder!
With each step my feet grow older.

Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble,
Lived in Bedrock, that spells trouble.

R-O-C-K in the U.S.A., dear Lord please take these rocks away.

Yeah, I probably need to take a zero day.

After 15.1 miles of…rocks, I tented near the Eagles Nest Shelter, along with One Feather, Long Strider, and a few others. I laid in my tent rubbing my numb, battered feet and listening to The Rolling Stones.

Day 106

Several weeks ago I wrote about some amazing Trail Magic provided to me and others in southern Virginia by Dave and DeAnn Werner. These are the folks whose daughter was engaged to an AT thru-hiker (trail name Jay-Bird) who died from cancer a couple of years after hiking the trail. He never got a chance to be a Trail Angel so, in his memory, the Werners provide Trail Magic each May in Virginia. After I wrote about them, DeAnn contacted me and offered to take me out to eat whenever I got to their home state of Pennsylvania. Honestly, I thought it sweet of her to offer, but doubted it would ever materialize.

I’ve since learned never to doubt the sincerity or intentions of the amazing Werners. They tracked my progress across several states and offered to drive more than an hour to meet me at Port Clinton. I made a steep, waterfall descent into the town and walked across several railroad tracks. Next to them were the famous and massive Reading anthracites. I crossed over a bridge into Port Clinton and immediately saw Dave and DeAnn waiting for me. It was so great to see them and the cooler of cold drinks they had with them! Dave said, “This day is all about you. We have all the time in the world. Tell us where you want to go. And we have room for one or two more if you see any other hikers.”

Port Clinton had a community yard sale going on and our first stop was at a booth manned by the Blue Mountain Eagle Climbing Club. These are the trail maintainers for this region and they appreciated having an aspiring thru-hiker stop by. After eating a hot dog and Coke, we started heading out of town when I spotted a hiker on the corner. I didn’t know him but had a hunch what he wanted. With the Werners’ permission, I rolled down the window and asked if he needed a ride to Cabela’s. “Heck yeah,” he said and hopped in. We introduced ourselves and learned that his name is ET, because he has an extra toe. We headed to the largest Cabela’s store in the world in Hamburg where I purchased a new pair of Salomon XA Pro 3D trail shoes. Our next stop was Hoss’s Steak and Sea restaurant where the Werners insisted on buying ET and me a steak dinner, salad bar, and dessert bar. I was thrilled and ET was in a state of shock as this was Trail Magic of the highest order.

 

After stuffing our faces, we headed to a local grocery store to re-supply our food. As I was about to check out, DeAnn cut in front of me and paid for my groceries. She didn’t want to hear any of my objections. She said, “Fob, you hike the trail. We do food. We want to do this for you, so let us do it.” I wasn’t going to win that battle so I thanked her and accepted her generous gift. The Werners then returned us to Port Clinton where we thanked them again and said our goodbyes. As I reflect on the day, I can’t find the words to express how much their kindness meant to me. They made ET and me, a couple of stinky hikers, feel like royalty. My only regret is that I never got to meet and know Jay-Bird before he died. He would be happy to know his trail legacy lives on through Dave and DeAnn, two of the kindest people I’ve ever met.

I made the steep climb out of Port Clinton and camped with ET and a friendly, section hiking couple from California. Altogether, we had three tents, two cook stoves, and forty-one toes. I had logged 11.2 miles. More importantly, I had seen a real life example of a couple going way beyond the call of duty to help someone they barely know. I hope Janet and I can be that kind of couple in the years ahead.

Fob