---

“He answered, ‘I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.'” – Adam, Genesis 3:10

“If what you did yesterday seems big, you haven’t done anything today.” – Lou Holtz

Day 101

I was excited about the morning hike because I was headed to Duncannon, a trail town with a reputation of being hiker friendly. Unfortunately, timing is everything and Monday morning is not the time for a hiker to stroll into town. First stop was a popular breakfast place…closed on Mondays. Across the street was the famously run-down Doyle Hotel, a cross between a hiker hostel and a slum. I didn’t need lodging and their famously good restaurant doesn’t serve breakfast. Ice cream place…closed. Laundromat…doesn’t exist. About the only thing open was a little mini-mart where I grabbed a banana and coffee and did some basic resupply. I asked the manager if there was a place in Duncannon that serves breakfast on a Monday morning. He looked at me as if I had asked for the secret password to unlock all bank vaults worldwide. I’m pretty sure he’s the same guy who answers the phone when you call computer tech support.

The AT then took me down the main drag, a residential street with no hiker services. At the far edge of town I found a campground…with no vending machines and no manager (was out on a shuttle run). I did find a bathroom and got water from the sink. Needless to say, Duncannon was a huge disappointment, although most of that was due to my Monday morning arrival. At least there were no sharp pointy rocks on the sidewalks.

As I left town and crossed over a river, I saw a gas station that had a Subway. Yeah! I went there for a foot-long Spicy Italian and five cups of lemonade. Hiking on, I arrived at Clarks Ferry Shelter and cameled up because the guide showed limited water options for the next several miles. At the shelter I met a hiker named Deuces Wild. He told me he got that name because he poops 5-6 times per day. Lovely.

At mile 1157.6, after 15 miles, I called it a day at the Peters Mountain Shelter. I met and talked to Fresh Breath and two lady hikers, Eggplant and Parmesan. As I laid there in the shelter that night, I remembered that tomorrow was the Summer Solstice, the first day of summer and longest day of the year. That also meant it would be Hike Naked Day, another AT tradition! Leave it to Fob to end up on Peters Mountain in the Peters Mountain Shelter on the eve of Hike Naked Day! Realistically, I had no plans to hike naked. I couldn’t afford to have my swinging vine get poison ivy or get caught in my hip belt. Besides, hiking naked would be major eye pollution to my fellow hikers, including Eggplant and Parmesan who were tenting nearby. As an alternative, I decided to sleep naked, and so I did…on Peters Mountain…in the Peters Mountain Shelter.

Day 102

I awoke and got dressed, a little curious as to how Hike Naked Day would play out. In short, it was a bust…no pun intended. I didn’t see a single hiker that day, northbound or southbound, who was hiking in the buff. I learned later of one boyfriend-girlfriend team who night-hiked naked for a few hours in the dark.

Today was a long, hot, rocky day. Rocksylvania opened up a small seam on the bottom of my trail shoes and I made a mental note that I would need a replacement pair soon. Near Rattling Run, mile 1168.3, I got some video of a deer as I walked by her, just a few feet away. My presence didn’t bother her a bit.

Throughout the day I heard the occasional sounds of distant explosions. I assumed I must be near some sort of military training base, and that would turn out to be true (Fort Indiantown Gap, an Army post). At mile 1171, near Yellow Springs Village Site, an old coal mining settlement, I saw my friend Tree laying in his hammock between two trees by the side of the trail. On a trail where it seems far too many hikers are focused on obtaining big mile days and finishing the AT quickly, I love to see a young guy chilling in his hammock and reading a book in the shade in the middle of the afternoon. He’s enjoying the journey and hasn’t gotten caught up in the competitive mindset of who hiked the most miles that day or finished the trail the quickest.

After an 18.5 mile, Hike Clothed Day, I stealth camped near Rausch Creek at mile 1176.1. Rausch Gap was a coal mining town that began, flourished, and died between 1830 and 1910.  Today, all that remains are some building foundations and a small cemetery near where I camped.  With the exception of the occasional sound of mortar fire, it was a peaceful night in the Pennsylvania mountains.

Day 103

I decided to take a Near-0 day, hiking just 5.6 miles on the AT (to the sound of mortars) and then another 2.5 miles on a side trail to spend the night in Lickdale. On the way in, I got three different hotels in a bidding war for the cheapest military or hiker rate, which drove the price down considerably. Best Western won the bidding war, and was right next to a Subway, Wendy’s, and Burger King. This was going to be a high calorie stay! I ate at Burger King, showered and did laundry at the hotel, and then did second dinner at Wendy’s. It was good to feel full and clean again.

Fob

“We cannot put off living until we are ready. The most salient characteristic of life is its urgency, “here and now” without any possible postponement. Life is fired at us point-blank.” – Jose Ortega y Gasset

“Do not wait for leaders; do it alone, person to person.” – Mother Teresa

Day 99

Still a tad hung over from the ice cream challenge, I hiked out shirtless to face the heat and rocks. I once thought that Pennsylvania’s reputation for having excessive trail rocks was probably a little exaggerated. Surely it can’t be that bad. Well, it’s starting to get that bad. I don’t mind the climbs or scrambles over large boulder fields. My long legs are made for that. What is challenging are the sections with sharp little pointed rocks everywhere. There are several mile long stretches where every step is some sort of rock pointing up. This puts a beat down on your shoes and feet, not to mention your attitude and mileage. The other consequence is that you’re having to always look down to watch your step and choose the hopefully less painful rock to step on. So you tend to miss some of the trail scenery around you. I won’t continue complaining about the rocks as that affects my attitude and doesn’t change anything. It is what it is and I have to take the bad with the good.

Towards the end of the day I broke out into a clearing and walked a few miles across pastures and corn fields. The sun was pounding down on me mercilessly. After 18.9 difficult miles, I stopped at the Backpackers Campsite on the outskirts of Boiling Springs. It’s cool that they’ve established this little campsite with a port-a-potty in the woods right outside the town. The only downside is that it is within an easy stones throw of a very active railroad track. Like a Bruce Springsteen song, I was going to wake up at night “with the sheets soaking wet, and a freight train running the middle of my head.”

After setting up camp, I made two phones calls and left two messages to designated points of contact at a local church, hoping to get a ride the next day. Neither were ever returned. I then walked less than a mile into beautiful downtown Boiling Springs. I had driven through the town years earlier with Janet and it was every bit as pretty as I remembered it. I walked around the lake and stopped for a lasagna dinner at Anile’s Italian restaurant. I then stopped at Getty Food Mart to resupply my food stock. I returned to camp at sunset to the loud roar of a passing train. With my earplugs in, a tired body, and a belly full of lasagna, the occasional train roar didn’t keep me from sleeping well that night.

Day 100

I woke up and pulled out the sleeve of mini powdered donuts I’d purchased in Boiling Springs. After eating the first two, I noticed the third one was covered in mold. Bummer! It will be awhile before I’ll be able to eat mini powdered donuts again. I broke camp, hiked back into Boiling Springs, took a few more pictures near the lake, and then hiked out of town.

The next ten miles out of Boiling Springs were as flat a section as you’ll find on the AT. If the elevation profile in my guidebook was a heart monitor, the patient would be dead. About one third of the day’s miles were in open pastures and fields. I loved the change of scenery, but that also exposed me to several hours of continuous sunshine. By early afternoon, at mile 1131.3, I arrived at the Scott Farm Trail ATC Crew Headquarters. It provides hikers with a much needed water spigot, port-a-potty, and picnic table next to an old barn. I stripped down to my underwear, got down on all fours, and took a cold, refreshing 20-second shower under the water spigot. I felt like a dog but that’s not a bad thing sometimes.

After a long afternoon battling rocks (which I’m not going to complain about) I arrived at the Cove Mountain Shelter. After hiking 22 miles, much of it in the open sun, I was completely exhausted. At the shelter I met Allan, a hiker from Colorado in his 70s. We were the only two there that night. After returning from my long downhill hike to get water, he told me about some of his many hiking adventures.

I was sitting on the ledge of the shelter when Allan returned from getting water. As we continued talking, Allan began taking off his clothes by the picnic table, just ten feet from my position. As he contrasted the AT with the PCT, he shed his underwear and stood before me completely naked. I’ve been in plenty of locker rooms and have seen plenty of naked men (myself included), but never one alone at a campsite in the Pennsylvania woods. It was awkward to the power of infinity.

He continued, “You won’t find pointy trail rocks out west on the PCT like you find here in PA. They won’t allow it.” He then grabbed a washcloth and his Nalgene bottle and began giving himself a sponge bath! It reminded me of what my 80-year-old Uncle Phil would look like naked and bathing himself in the woods, although that’s something I try never to imagine. As he spoke, he raised his privates with one hand and ran the wet washcloth under them with the other.  He took the unfortunate washcloth  to regions of his body I had only seen diagrams of in 8th grade Health class. I didn’t know whether to maintain eye contact (appropriate when someone is talking to you), or look away (appropriate when someone is determined to sponge off every single body crevice). I started to ask if he and his washcloth were enjoying the hike up Gooch Gap, but it was obvious they were. Ultimately, I decided to look down, pick at my feet, and respond with the occasional “Oh really? That’s interesting.”

The conversation and sponge bath finally and mercifully ended and we crawled into bunks at opposite ends of the shelter. I was tired and a little rattled. Allan was clean. Every single inch of him was clean. I’m sure of that.

Fob

“It takes an endless amount of history to make even a little tradition.” – Henry James

“Tradition does not mean that the living are dead, it means that the dead are living.” – Henry MacMilan

Day 98

One of the neatest aspects of hiking the AT is taking part in longstanding trail traditions. Using a trail name, writing confessions at The Priest Shelter, hanging my feet off McAfee Knob and having my photo taken at ATC Headquarters are among the traditions I’ve participated in so far on my journey. By doing so, I connect myself in time with the hikers who have gone before me and those who will come later.

Day 98 was special for two reasons. First, I crossed the official AT midpoint at mile 1094.5. I stopped for a picture, said a prayer, and ate a candy bar. That’s how I roll.

The even bigger event, though, was strolling into Pine Grove Furnace State Park…home of The Half Gallon Challenge! This was perhaps the AT tradition I was most looking forward to. I have read many, many stories of past hikers who have taken the challenge and either passed or failed. I was incredibly hungry. I had spent my whole life eating ice cream to prepare for this moment. And if that weren’t motivation enough, those who conquer the challenge get a tiny wooden spoon with “Half Gallon Challenge” written on it. I wanted that little spoon very badly.

There was also the issue of a recent hot dog eating contest at a minor league baseball game. My youngest son, B.W Pot, represented Harding University against a contestant from another school. With a crowd of supporters cheering him on, he not only took second (aka last) place but managed to consume zero (0) hot dogs! Apparently he started laughing and choking and couldn’t get a single hot dog down in 30 seconds. Not one. For a family with a proud history of overeating, this was not acceptable. Tears were shed and we considered cutting off his share of the inheritance. He’s a good kid, though, and will probably bounce back from this and have a productive life.

So I arrived at the General Store focused on restoring the family honor and earning a tiny wooden spoon. Surprisingly, of the nine or ten other hikers there, only two others attempted the challenge with one (Hawaii) succeeding and one (Long Strider) failing. I selected my first flavor, 1.5 quarts of cookies and cream. There’s no official time limit, you just have to do it in “one sitting”. Still, I wanted to complete the challenge in under an hour. I worked methodically as various hikers and vacationers looked on. About half way through, I belched and took a short breather. I struck up a conversation with five Pennsylvania teens who come to the park with their dads every year to celebrate Fathers Day (another cool tradition). One of the teens told me that his dad comes up with a challenge for them each year, and they earn money if they complete the challenge. This year his dad brought live goldfish in a tub and later that night the boys would be bobbing for goldfish. If they get a live goldfish in their mouth, they get $20. If they swallow it, they get $50. I said, “Dude, sounds like you have a pretty cool dad.” He smiled and said, “Yeah I do.”

I finished off the 1.5 quarts of cookies and cream, belched loudly, and moved on to the .5 quart of raspberry ice cream. I was already beyond full and it had the look and consistency of Barney’s diarrhea. 35 minutes had elapsed and pressure was building on several levels. On my third bite of purple mush I cracked the little plastic spoon they give you and had to get a new one. With .2 quarts to go, I hit the 42 minute mark. I felt queasy and began to lactate from my armpits and brow. With just a few bites remaining, the teens and some of the hikers gathered around me shouting “Fob! Fob! Fob!” I dug deep. I put the team on my back. And I finished the ice cream! I conquered the half gallon challenge in 48 minutes! I restored the family’s overeating honor! Ten minutes later, I went back in and ordered a quesadilla and ate it with no problem. I probably could have eaten even more, but I wanted to save room for a goldfish.

As I sat there with my stomach tossing and turning, a young lady from Shippensburg University approached me and asked if she could interview me. She is working on her degree in Sociology and is doing a big research project on aspiring AT thru hikers. I agreed and she hit me with a wide variety of questions for about fifteen minutes. About every third question, I leaned forward in my chair and silently broke wind, without breaking my train of thought.  As she recorded my answers, a faint whiff of rotting raspberries permeated the air around us. Thankfully, “Did you just Barney fart?” wasn’t on her list of questions.

In no condition to hike, I called it a 12.6 mile day and decided to stay at the nearby historic Ironmasters Mansion Hostel. $33 got me dinner and breakfast, laundry service, a hot shower and a bed to sleep on. The mansion was built in 1829 for Peter Ege, the longest serving ironmaster at Pine Grove Furnace. Later, they believe the mansion was a stop on the Underground Railroad. The caretaker even showed me the secret trapdoor that leads to a basement where there are tunnels exiting the property.

Later, some late arriving hikers told me that Sam Squanch, the U.K. hiker I rode out a storm with in a concession stand, had just conquered the One Gallon Challenge, which I didn’t even know existed. The record for consuming a full gallon of ice cream had been broken the previous Sunday after standing for 12 years. The old record was 48 minutes and a fellow hiker named Legs did it in 28 minutes. Sam Squanch, determined to outdo his friend Legs,  broke it again with a time of 24 minutes! He basically ate twice as much ice cream as me in half the time. Afterward he went to the bathroom and vomited but they still gave him credit.  He’s probably the most accomplished Brit since Austin Powers.

Later that evening, hikers were hanging out in the dining area, the parlor, and the bunk rooms. Mountain Goat, a 20-something Australian hiker, sat down at the piano and began to play. She was magnificent and the songs were mesmerizing. In fact, every hiker stopped what they were doing and listened. Some walked to the edge of the doorway to watch her play. It reminded me of the scene in The Shawshank Redemption where Andy finds a record of two Italian opera singers singing The Marriage of Figaro. He locks himself in the warden’s office and plays the beautiful song on the prison’s loud speaker. The prisoners and guards alike stop what they’re doing and listen in awe. My fellow hikers and I were in awe listening to Mountain Goat play the piano. After being in the uncultured wilderness for so long, it was quite the treat to hear her play and feel normal for a change.

Fob

“The greatest legacy one can pass on to one’s children or grandchildren is not money or other material things accumulated in one’s life, but rather a legacy of character and faith.”     – Billy Graham

“I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too!”     – Wicked Witch of the West

Day 94

Alicia filled me up with a delicious breakfast and then she and Darrell transported me back to Harpers Ferry to get back on the trail. I thanked them again for their generous hospitality and then headed northward. I entered Maryland, my 6th state, by crossing the Potomac River on the Byron Memorial Footbridge. Next up was the C&O Canal Towpath, a perfectly flat, 3.2 mile stretch that runs between the railroad and the Potomac River. During this stretch, I added one deer and fifty or so turtles to my wildlife total.

At mile 1029.4 I hiked past the Ed Garvey Shelter where, just last year, a dead tree fell on a 36-year-old hiker named Jason Parish, killing him. Jason was just about to leave the shelter at the end of a 3-day camping trip with two friends when strong winds brought the tree down on him. Like me, he was born in Dover, Delaware and had a love for the AT. It was another reminder that you just never know when your time is up, so make the most of the time God has given you.

While the AT in Maryland has a reputation for being a tad boring, I actually found it pretty interesting. It has some terrific parks, campgrounds, and Civil War history. Today’s highlight was a visit to beautiful Gathland State Park, which sits on the former estate of war correspondent George Alfred Townsend. Townsend, who wrote under the name Gath during the Civil War, had the impressive War Correspondents Monument constructed in 1896. Still standing, it was the first monument in the world dedicated to journalists killed in combat.

While the War Correspondents Monument is a fitting memorial and quite grand, I found my lesson for today at the nearby remnants of Townsend’s mausoleum. The sign outside says:

“During the 19th Century few people bought burial lots in public cemeteries as we do today. Instead, a small parcel of their own land was usually set aside as a private cemetery. If enough money was available, a mausoleum (tomb) was often built for certain family members. Gath, concerned with his own burial, built this lonely tomb about 20 years before his death, which came on April 15, 1914, in New York City. By this time his great wealth had dwindled and a near penniless Gath was buried in a Philadelphia, PA, cemetery instead of his own tomb as he had desired. Gath’s empty tomb mutely symbolizes the uncertainties of life, fame, and fortune and the certainty of death.”

The expensive, empty tomb of a once rich man who died nearly penniless reminded me of Matthew 6:19-21 which reads, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

As I headed for the Gathland State Park exit, I stumbled upon a pavilion with…Trail Magic! A gentleman in a wheelchair from a local veterans group was serving hot dogs, chips, drinks and other assorted goodies. Well done, sir.

I exited the park and continued my journey along South Mountain, an area rich in American Civil War history. The Battle of South Mountain is considered one of the most decisive events in the war, as it was the key battle in Confederate General Robert E. Lee’s failed first attempt to invade the Union. Had the Confederates won on northern soil, Great Britain and France may have intervened on the South’s behalf, and persuaded a war-weary north to negotiate a peace settlement.

So at Turner’s Gap, Fox’s Gap, and Crampton’s Gap (Gathland State Park), I was hiking on the hallowed ground where approximately 6,100 soldiers were killed, wounded, or went missing in a single day. This reality was brought home as I stood in front of the memorial marking the spot near where Confederate Brigadier General Samuel Garland fell mortally wounded while leading his men. It’s interesting that the military general who valiantly and selflessly led his men in battle ends up with a nice memorial tombstone for all to see. Meanwhile, the fancy tomb set aside by a man to honor himself is now in ruins and empty.

After a 17.2 mile day, I ended up camping near the Dahlgren Campground. A female camper about my age approached me and started watching me set up my tent.

Female: “I hope you don’t mind me watching you. I’m fairly new at this and I have a Big Agnes tent also.”

Fob: “No problem at all. I’ve set it up many times and I love it.”

Female: “So, you’re a thru-hiker?”

Fob: “I will be when I summit Katahdin. Right now I’m just an aspiring thru-hiker. You have to earn the title.”

Female: “My trail name is Ru. That’s 1/2 of Thru because I’m trying to hike half of the trail this year. There’s no way I can do the whole thing yet.”

Fob: “I’m Fob. My youngest son poops on trails.”

Ru: “Hmmm.”

Fob: “It’s a long story. So where are you from?”

Ru: “I’m a retired sheriff’s deputy from Riverview, Florida.”

Fob: “No way! My wife and I lived in Fishhawk for seven years, just down the road from you! You’ve probably given me a traffic ticket!”

Ru: “Wow! Small world.”

Fob: “And then you put in the final stake, at an angle, just like this.”

Ru: “I’m impressed. Your Big Agnes is so taut.”

Fob: “I get that a lot.”

As I laid there alone in my tent in the woods, I remembered that I was just west of Burkittsville, Maryland. Why does that matter? Well, it was in the woods near Burkittsville where they filmed parts of the original Blair Witch Project movie. Yes, folks, I was in the Blair Witch Woods! As it got dark, my initial inclination was to make a scary, Blair Witch Project-like video and post it on Facebook, so I did. For some reason the volume wasn’t on, so the video will mainly seem scary to those who read lips. I was a little spooked myself, and went to sleep that night wondering if any witches would bother me in the middle of the night.

That night I had the strangest dream…

Blair, a witch, hovered outside my tent, along with Sarah, her reluctant sister. How did I know she was a witch? Because she looked like one…she had a crooked nose. Sensing my fear and vulnerability, Blair ripped open my (tent) fly and snatched me. I was so scared. She and Sarah took me to their coven next to a Hogwarts looking castle owned by their rich father, Big Daddy Warlock. (These are the kind of dreams you have when there’s too much granola in your diet.).

Blair put me in a cage down the hall, gave me a handful of oats to eat, and left me alone with Sarah. “Watch out for my sister,” Sarah warned. “She’s gone, but she’ll be back, and she’s a man eater. Watch out, Fob, she’ll chew you up!” “Say it isn’t so,” I replied. “I can’t go for that. No can do. I need to get back on the trail.” Just then Blair, clearly out of touch, returned and hit me with a stick. One on one, I was no match for her. I said, “You’re a witch, girl, and you’ve gone too far, ’cause you know it don’t matter anyway.”

Blair left again to prepare her witches stew, which calls for the eye of a newt, a pinch of garlic, and a Fob. It’s a primitive recipe, but she’s never had any adult education. I looked at Sarah and said, “This is my last chance. Can you help me escape?”

{My dream was interrupted by an urgent need to pee in a bottle, so I did. I then returned to my dream.}

Sarah replied, “Helping you is risky. Even though Blair is gone, her private eyes are watching you. They watch your every move.” I said, “Help me escape, and you’ll make my dreams come true.” “But, Fob, I like having you around,” she admitted. “Every time you go away, you take a piece of me with you.” “Don’t worry, Sarah,” I said softly. “Your kiss is on my list for the rest of my life.”

With tears in her eyes, Sarah reached out her warty hand and placed it on my shoulder…

Sarah: “If you feel like leaving, you know you can go…”

Fob: “I feel like leaving.”

Sarah: “But why don’t you stay until tomorrow?”

Fob: “Actually, now is fine. I just heard a newt scream.”

Sarah: “And if you wanna be free…”

Fob: “I really do. I hear Blair coming.”

Sarah: “All you have to do is say so.”

Fob: “So.”

Just then, Sarah unlocked my cage and I made a run for it. As I exited the coven towards safety, I looked back over my shoulder at a crying Sarah and said, “It’s you…and me…forever! Sarah, smile…oh won’t you smile awhile for me, Sarah.”

I awoke from my dream in cold sweat. It had been a memorable night in the Blair Witch Woods, but it was time to eat a granola bar, put on some more 80s music, and hike on.

Fob

“Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.”     – Leo Buscaglia

“A loving person lives in a loving world. A hostile person lives in a hostile world. Everyone you meet is your mirror.”     – Ken Keyes Jr.

Day 92

“Hey, Fob, the coffee’s ready when you are,” Darrell whispered in my face.

I slowly opened my eyes and tried to focus them. Darrell’s eyes seemed disproportionately large for his face and his voice was disproportionately eager for someone over the age of seven. Before responding, I looked at my watch. It was 4:37 a.m. That’s early, even for AT hikers. Really early. It was so early that it was almost yesterday. There are clearly differences between an active duty Army colonel his first morning on the AT and a retired Air Force colonel on his 92nd AT morning. I didn’t know whether to thank Darrell for the coffee, or stab him in the temples with my carbide-tipped trekking poles. Not wanting to squash his enthusiasm for the AT, I half-heartedly thanked him for waking me in order to enjoy fresh coffee. I was sure it would taste good after I slept four more hours.

Shortly after 7 a.m., Morning Coffee (Darrell’s temporary trail name) and I left the Blackburn AT Center, along with a hiker named Hammer. Just as we got on the trail, I asked Morning Coffee if he would lead the three of us in a prayer and he obliged. (Just before getting on the AT, I received a call from Darrell and he said a prayer over the phone with me. After 1000 miles, it made sense for him to say another one.)

The morning hike was mostly flat but it was hot and humid. I didn’t have a lot of energy which may have been a result of hiking a combined 80 miles, including the Roller Coaster, the previous four days. We enjoyed hiking with and talking to Hammer about his past business successes and difficulties, along with politics, religion and other topics.

By mid-afternoon, we crossed over into West Virginia (again) and made the descent, climb, and descent into Harpers Ferry. It had only been a 12.5 mile day, but I was exhausted, completely soaked, and my butt was chafing. At the famous Jefferson Rock, where Thomas Jefferson once said something profound while scratching his own chafing butt, we stopped for a picture. We then headed down the hill into downtown Harpers Ferry where a smiling Alicia was waiting for us.

Our next stop was Appalachian Trail Conservancy Headquarters which, unfortunately, was .6 miles uphill. That may not seem far for a long distance hiker, but I was completely spent and had two loggers in my underwear sawing my butt crack with sandpaper.

After trudging along behind Morning Coffee and Alicia about 50 yards, a woman got out of a car parked on the side of the road. She said, “Hey, Fob, it’s Kailah! Wanna ride?” “Is there room for the two loggers in my butt crack?” I started to say, but though better of it. Kailah, in addition to being an angel sent from heaven that day, is the niece of Chuck and Jana Leasure, some friends from our Virginia days. I met her years ago at a wedding and she has been keeping up with my AT journey through my blog. She knew about when I would be arriving in Harpers Ferry and figured I might want a ride up that hill. She figured right! She handed me an ice cold Gatorade (pure magic), a bag of snacks, and some unnecessary but appreciated lunch money. I thanked her from the bottom of my heart on the way up the hill and invited her to lunch with us. Unfortunately, she was on her way to a wedding and had to decline. But she wished me well on my journey and told me to finish strong. If I finish at all, it will be because of people like her and the Brimberrys and others who came along at just the right time to meet a need.

Despite my exhaustion and being drenched in sweat, it was pretty cool walking into ATC HQ with the Brimberrys and the loggers in my underwear. Although I’m more into actual halfway points than psychological ones like Harpers Ferry, it felt really special being there. I had been there a decade earlier with Janet, and I told her I would be back some day as an aspiring thru-hiker. Today was that day. I had my photo taken and signed the hiker book with my information. I was northbound hiker #607. Ninety-one days to Harpers Ferry isn’t bad for a 50-year-old who has taken two weeks off (for a wedding and spousal rendezvous) and is attempting to write a book along the way.

The Brimberrys and I invited Hammer and another hiker named Pocahontas to have dinner with us at a nearby Italian restaurant. Upon arrival, I headed to the restroom to rinse the loggers and sandpaper from my nether regions and to apply a copious amount of Gold Bond. It stung in a good way, like watching your final child graduate and leave the nest. I then changed into the clean set of Morning Coffee’s clothes that Alicia brought me. They will need to be incinerated.

We headed back to the Brimberry’s lovely home on Bolling AFB where the magic continued. I took a hot shower and then a cold one and then a hot bath. Not just any hot bath but a bubble bath, featuring their daughter, Holly’s bubbles from Frozen (the movie). I laid back and closed my eyes, just extremely blessed to be in that place at that moment. After dozing off for a few minutes, I opened my eyes and Frozen’s Elsa was staring at me from the bubble container at the other end of the tub. Like Morning Coffee recently, her eyes seemed disproportionately large for the rest of her head. I didn’t appreciate her bug eyes staring at my fobness, so I reached up and turned the bottle around.  Little Frozen creep.

After my long hot bubble bath, I stepped on the scales and weighed 192.5 pounds. That puts me at my college weight, 44 pounds lost so far on my journey. I suspected Janet was going to tell me to eat more, and she did. The gorging would begin moments later as I sat down to a magnificent steak dinner, courtesy of Team Brimberry! Her instructions from Janet involved feeding me a lot, and I would end up gaining six pounds during my 32 hours with the Brimberrys.

As I laid in a soft, comfortable bed that night, I read the Fathers Day cards sent to me by my family. It was a great ending to a great day with two very special people.

Day 93

Today would be a very special zero day because I was headed to worship at the Manassas Church of Christ where Janet and I were members from 2004-2008. It was great to see some familiar faces, especially brothers and sisters in Christ. After services, I went to lunch with the Brimberrys, Leasures, and Paul and Trish Johnson. It was good to be with long time friends and eat a filling pasta meal. I also appreciated the two bags of cookies that Jana Leasure gave me. After lunch, I went to a movie with the Brimberrys (where I ate a large popcorn) and then to Dunkin Donuts for a coffee and donut. After evening worship, we headed back to Bolling AFB for my final night of pampering.

I got my laundry together and made a few gear and clothing adjustments. Since I haven’t used my stove in a couple of weeks, I left it behind. While I enjoyed cooking at night when it was cold out (or even cool), I don’t feel the need in hot, humid weather. I’m perfectly content to have tortillas with salami and cheese, or peanut butter and honey, or peanut butter and coconut oil. It means a quicker dinner and no clean up. Not carrying a stove and fuel also saves some weight and space, and I don’t mind waiting until the occasional trail town for hot food. I also left behind my gloves, thick socks, and puffy winter jacket, which will eventually be sent to me with the stove when it starts to get cooler again up north.

Alicia and Morning Coffee had a final surprise for me. They set up a vibrating, heated, bubbly foot bath in the living room, which made me consider quitting the trail and moving in with them. As I sat there relaxing and soaking, I downed two large bowls of Corn Pops. Just before going to bed, Morning Coffee informed me we could sleep in and didn’t need to leave until 8 a.m. He seemed less eager than before, and his eyes were in proportion to the rest of his head. Maybe I’ll start calling him Darrell again.

Fob

“The only normal people are the ones you don’t know very well.” – Joe Ancis

“Excellence in any pursuit is the late, ripe fruit of toil.” – W. M. L. Jay

Day 90

I left the hostel and headed north. There was a massive fenced in area nearby, which I learned is the Smithsonian Conservation Biological Institute. The 3200-acre campus houses a variety of endangered species, including the cloud leopard, mane wolf, American Bison, and cheetah. As a conservative Christian, I probably should have been on that side of the fence as well. Prior to its use for conservation, the area was used to train war horses during World War I.

My priority today was to coordinate a time and place to meet my friends, Darrell and Alicia Brimberry. My wife and I met, went to church with, and became friends with the Brimberry’s during my military assignment at the Pentagon. We share a love of the outdoors, and they plan to thru-hike the AT themselves in 2017 after he retires from the Army. Their plan was to set up a trail magic station for me and other hikers and then Darrell would hike with me for a couple of days. Alicia would then pick us up in Harpers Ferry and take us to their home on Bolling AFB in DC for some rest, recuperation and resupply. Needless to say, I was really excited about all of this.

Plan A had them setting up at Manassas Gap, but the timing worked better to shift that northward. I suggested Plan B which involved them setting up at Ashby Gap, mile 989.1. It seemed to make sense as the map showed the AT crossing a road there. My job was to hike at least as far as Dicks Dome Shelter, so I would be within 5 miles of their position the following morning.

Here, then, is how the best laid plan can unravel. When I got to Dicks Dome Shelter, I called an audible. Rather than face a mile ascent and five mile hike in the morning, I decided to go an extra mile. This would shorten my journey tomorrow and my AT guide showed a spring up on Signal Knob. Being nearly out of water, finding some was paramount. So I climbed the mile up Signal Knob only to discover the spring was completely dry. Not good. Not good at all. Given my increasingly desperate need for water, I had to hike on. A mile later I entered Sky Meadows State Park. It’s a beautiful park, but unfortunately camping is not allowed there along the AT. There are also no water sources there along the AT. Thirsty and tired and with no place to camp, I hiked on. A few miles later I arrived at Ashby Gap, our Plan B meeting point. The good news…there was a little creek so I could get much needed water. The bad news…this was a terrible spot for the Brimberrys to do trail magic. It was among the most dangerous, divided highway road crossings on the AT. So with the sun starting to set, I called Darrell and told him we needed a Plan C, but my priority at the moment was to find a place to set up my tent before it got dark.

Exhausted, I continued northward and eventually found a nice spot by a stream at mile 991.1, just as it got dark. After settling in, I called Darrell and he proposed a new Trail Magic and rendezvous point at Snickers Gap, about 12 miles north. I agreed, mainly because I heard him say Snickers. After my 21.7 mile day, I just wanted to go to sleep…and so I did.

My takeaways from the above narrative:

1) It’s not easy coordinating a time and place to meet someone on the AT because there are so many variables involved. I’m glad the Brimberrys were patient with me and flexible.

2) You can’t always rely on water being available where your AT Guide indicates, unless it’s a major source like a river. Thus, it’s good to have a backup plan, preferably one that doesn’t require hiking at night or in bad weather.

3) The butterfly effect is alive and well on the AT. One seemingly small decision (like hiking just one more mile) can have a much larger ripple effect, like having to actually hike 7 more miles (bad effect) and discovering the planned rendezvous point needs to be changed (good effect). I find it interesting to think about how my life might have been different had I made different decisions and flipped different levers.

4) Romans 8:28 says “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” I think this verse tells me, among other things, that if I love God and try my best to live faithfully, he is going to ultimately bring about good outcomes in my life…regardless of which specific lever I flip (college choice, career choice, choice of spouse, etc.). I can (and do) make bad choices on the AT that have bad consequences, but I feel like God just figures out a way to have some good come out of them.

Day 91

After getting water near the Rod Hollow Shelter, I strapped on my proverbial seatbelt and began the famous AT Roller Coaster! The Roller Coaster is a 13.5 mile stretch of non-stop ups and downs. There is a total gain of more than 5000 feet as you make your way over more than a dozen steep, rocky hills. It’s a parting shot from Virginia before entering West Virginia.

A little more than halfway up and down the Roller Coaster, I came across a simple sign marking the 1000 mile point for northbound AT hikers. I had to stop for a minute and let that sink in. I just hike 1000 miles! I took a picture, of course. I also said a prayer of thanksgiving. I didn’t ask God for anything in this prayer, I just thanked him for bringing me this far on the journey without serious injury or incident. I posted the photo on my Facebook page, and received a comment from Rex Dutton, our preacher from Florida, which I found quite profound. Rex wrote:

“Congratulations! These adventures are going to make an awesome book one day soon. God will work through this journey of yours to do many great things! I have so enjoyed your posts! And for the rest of us who will never accomplish anything so significant, and may feel useless from time to time, I could not help but think about that tree behind you bearing that sign… It has never been anywhere, and yet, there it stands and it still serves an important purpose.”

By “anything so significant” I think Rex is referring to noteworthy, out of the ordinary physical feats. I reminded him that preaching 40+ years, as he has done, is an amazing, world-changing accomplishment that far exceeds hiking a trail…even a really long trail. I really appreciate his final point about the tree holding the sign. No glory. No fanfare. It’s not the biggest or oldest or prettiest tree on the AT or even that mountain. But it has a job to do and does it well. By doing its job, it allows the sign, and the thousands of hikers who stand in front of it, to get the glory.

I suspect among my readers there may be a few folks who feel useless or unappreciated at times. Maybe your life seems boring. You may think, “All I do is (fill in the blank).” Maybe it’s been awhile since your boss, customers, children, or spouse have thanked you for what you do. Let me remind you your life has significance because God made you…in His image! Your life has significance because Christ made the ultimate sacrifice, giving his own life, to make your salvation possible. God has a plan and purpose for each one of us. Ecclesiastes 9:10 says, “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might…” Whether you are a plumber or teacher, a janitor or doctor, a tree or a sign, be a good one…do it well. Whether you aspire to hike the AT or just aspire to get through the day, know that what you do matters and makes a difference. You are a hero to someone, so keep on keeping on.

By mid-afternoon, at mile 1003.2, I arrived at Snickers Gap. I crossed the road and made my way over to Darrell and Alicia’s Trail Magic station. She came running up to hug me, which means she’ll probably need to throw her outfit away. I was that funky from my Roller Coaster ride. The two of them had been there for a few hours, giving out drinks, fruit, cookies and other goodies to hikers. There was quite a crowd there when I arrived. Alicia had prepared a private cooler of drinks and goodies just for me which was way, way cool!

After resting, eating, drinking, and visiting a bit, we said farewell to Alicia, and Darrell and I headed northward. For the first time in my journey, I was hiking with a long-time friend. He was eager and fresh, in part because he had missed most of the Roller Coaster and hadn’t hiked 12 miles in the heat that morning. I really enjoyed hiking with him and getting caught up on children, career, future plans, etc. Not surprisingly, he had several AT-related questions for me as he continues to prepare for their 2017 thru-hike attempt. At mile 1005.7, we stopped for a photo at the sign telling us we were crossing over into West Virginia, state #5!

At mile 1010.6, after a 19.5 mile day for me, we stopped for the night at the Blackburn AT Center. It wasn’t quite a challenging first night with me on the trail for Darrell, as we slept on the large screened-in porch of the Center and were offered big bowls of soup by the caretaker.

It had been an interesting couple of days, featuring a 1000-mile marker, Trail Magic, a Roller Coaster, a border crossing, and multiple changes of plans. Ultimately, God worked everything out for me, as I knew he would. I’m especially thankful he saw fit to provide me with a good friend to hike with, if only for a couple of days.

Fob

“Accept the pain, cherish the joys, resolve the regrets; then can come the best of benedictions–‘If I had my life to live over, I’d do it all the same.'”     – Joan McIntosh

“Sir Fob will make the hike because God made that his journey.”     – Eian, 5th Grader, Foundation Christian Academy (FCA)

Day 88

I woke up and decided to re-read the letters that had been written to me by Mrs. Wilkinson’s 5th grade class at Foundation Christian Academy. Allow me to share some highlights from the creative minds of these young people:

“One day Fob was doing the AT.  He heard something in the bush, so he went out to check it out.  It was a bear!!  The bear swallowed him whole.  He stayed in there for five days.  The bear threw him up.  Fob came out and said, ‘It was a good thing I had pepper.’ And then he hiked the rest of the AT.  And he lived a happy life til he got eaten by a bear again.”     – Jessie, 5th Grader, FCA

“Fob was walking through a soup trail. He was trying to get through the soup but a deer was eating the soup and licked his face.  It was made of chocolate. The deer ate Fob’s face off and skipped away.”     – Karisa, 5th Grader, FCA

I eventually left my comfortable cabin and headed out into the heat and humidity.  Before leaving the Skyland Lodge area, I couldn’t help but think about the 1996 murders of two female hikers just 1/2 mile from the lodge.  I did a fair amount of research on AT murders and other crimes before starting my journey.  While one is safer on the AT than in a city or on a highway, bad stuff can and does still happen.  If you want to read more about the murder of these two ladies, check out this link… http://www.readthehook.com/85806/cover-murder-park-rice-release-revives-memories

At mile 942.6 I approached the Pass Mountain Hut to get water and use the privy. A fellow hiker standing by the hut looked at me and said, “Hey, you’re Fob! Do you know Larry Alexander?” I answered, “Maybe. What did he do?” (One must always be careful in associating oneself with Larry in case any sort of crime has been committed.) The hiker replied, “We have something in common. Larry gave both of us our trail names. I’m now called Little Brother but on the PCT (Pacific Crest Trail) I hiked with Larry (trail name Baro) for awhile and he named me Young Gun. And I know through your blog post on Larry’s Facebook page that he named you Fob W. Pot.” I said, “Wow! It’s a small world (after all). Larry is a great dude. His two AT books helped inspire me to be out here. It’s great to meet you, Little Brother.”

“Once upon a time, Fob was in the woods on the AT.  He woke up and a bear got his bag!  He got up and ran but the bear got away!  He was lost with no tent and no food but there was a creek full of clean water.  He saw his yellow tent but it was about 7 miles away.  He got to his tent but it suddenly burned.  I don’t know why or even how.  He found his food and picked it up and it burned.  ‘Wow, I can’t even make a fire but I burn everything I touch,’ he said.  He prayed and prayed then God sent angels down. They picked him up and brought him to heaven.  He was happy in heaven and he spent his time there worshipping God.”     – Brock, 5th Grader,  FCA

At mile 943.9, as I descended Pass Mountain, I looked up and saw…(dramatic pause)…(play Kentucky Derby bugle call)…(all rise as judge enters courtroom)…(drum roll)…A BEAR! A real life Shenandoah National Park black bear! Yes! Finally! I had joined the club of aspiring thru-hikers who’ve seen a bear in the wild! No longer would I be made fun of a shelters, campsites and lodge restaurants. Instinctively, I crouched to one knee and, for just the second time on my AT journey, raised both trekking poles in the air in the single troop phalanx formation. I bowed my head and whispered, “Spartan, prepare for glory.” I’d seen The Revenant and now I was Hugh Glass, about to be charged and mauled by a bear in the wild. The bear, still a good 25 yards away, continued to calmly forage for berries and grubs along the trail. She (or maybe he, I didn’t check for parts) just completely ignored me. Like the attitude of the girls at most middle school dances I ever attended, I didn’t exist. There was not even a warning growl or threatening glance. I eventually stood up and returned my trekking poles to a non-defensive position.

I guess this was not my day to die. But a problem remained…the bear was directly in my path, right on the AT, and was taking her sweet time foraging and enjoying the day. So I got a little closer for the obligatory photo and video, and then sat down on a rock to wait her out. I ate a granola bar, drank some water, wiped the sweat off my arms and face, and waited. And waited. I started to throw a warning rock or yell, “Excuse me, Winnie the Pooh, hate to bother you…but I’m hiking the AT…trying to survive out here in the wild by living off the land…and I need to get to the next SNP eatery for a blackberry milkshake before they close. Any chance you could move it along and forage elsewhere?” Eventually, on her own schedule, without regard to my feelings or agenda, she moved her black hairy behind along. I continued northward, but I was a different Fob now, a battle-hardened Fob who had survived a close encounter with a distant, non-threatening, berry-eating wild bear.

Delayed by my near bear attack, I kicked it into high gear in order to make it to Elkwallow Wayside before they closed. I arrived just in time and ordered a pretzel, grilled cheese, and blackberry milkshake. Why? Because I could. This was Shenandoah National Park, the second happiest place on planet earth. And this is how we roll here…no apologies. I was joined at the Wayside picnic table by a trio of aspiring thru-hikers…Happy Feet (from Germany), Pharmacist (from Laurens, SC), and a guy from Idaho. I enjoyed talking to them, even after they told me they were hiking on Skyline Drive some of the time because it was “more scenic” than the actual AT. They are right about that, but as a white blaze loving purist, this was like hearing someone’s nails scraped across a chalkboard. But hey, hike your own hike.

It was starting to get dark, so I ended my 19.2 mile day stealth camping at mile 950.9, near Rattlesnake Point Overlook. I figured after surviving my near wrestling match with a giant black bear, surely I could survive tenting where rattlesnakes come to view the valley below.

Day 89

About mid-morning I stopped at the Gravel Springs Hut to get water and use the privy. Just after exiting the privy, I heard a loud cracking sound and spun around just in time to see a large tree branch fall on the privy!  Had the branch fallen 3 minutes earlier, I would have been trapped inside the privy.  Within seconds, my skin would have started to peel off.  Within minutes, the putrid privy smell would have caused asphyxia-induced hypoxia. They eventually would have found Fob in a fetal position, moldering away at the bottom of the tank.

After removing the branch, I hiked on. Near Little Hogback Mountain and South Marshall Mountain, I saw my second and third (final) SNP bear. I was a little more confident following yesterday’s encounter, so I attempted to pose for a selfie with the second bear. However, by the time I got my phone positioned and the angle just right, the bear had scampered off. Thus, I ended up taking the worst bear selfie in history, as there is no bear in it! By the way, some of the selfies I post on my blog appear upside down on some computers. Sorry about that. It looks right side up on my phone. Anyway, the photos in my eventual book will all be right side up.

“So one day Fob wanted to hike the Aplachin Trail so he did but when he got there he felt a tickle in his backpack so he turned around and saw a bear taking a samwhich so he chased him for awhile and gave up so he saw a deer and tried to get a selfie but the deer hid in the pond and Fob was not happy but he went to get his phone and it fell in and he said why did i do this.”     – Aldon L, 5th Grader

At mile 965.5 I exited and said farewell to Shenandoah National Park. It had lived up to its lofty reputation and my memories of the friendly deer, ferocious bears, and delicious blackberry milkshakes will remain with me forever.

Not quite ready to give up my week of comfortable backpacking, I decided, after an 18.2 mile day, to stay at the Mountain Home Cabbin (yes, with two b’s) near Front Royal.  The owners, Scott and Lisa, were extremely helpful and friendly.  After he thru-hiked the AT, they bought the abandoned, dilapidated historic property and are renovating and restoring the various structures a piece at a time.  The property was once owned by Samuel Gardner, a magistrate and horse and cattle farmer.  He owned 3000+ acres and used the hostel where I stayed, which dates to 1847, as slave quarters and later as the tri-county courthouse. Scott and Lisa are still renovating the main house which will one day become an upscale bed and breakfast.  He ran me into town to grab a bite and resupply, and she gave me a great tour of the property and historic buildings.

We had quite a mix of folks staying at the hostel that night.  Four of us were upstairs, including another hiker with a leg injury who will seek treatment in Front Royal.  Next to him (in nearby beds) were Matt and Sarah, who are finishing up a 3-week long archaeological dig at the nearby Belle Grove Plantation.  They are trying to locate the plantation’s slave quarters in support of Matt’s doctoral work at Syracuse University.  Scott and Lisa were downstairs, since their living quarters in the main house are still being renovated.  They were joined by a Fulbright scholar who was on her way to a conference in Washington D.C.  She will eventually teach English in Indonesia.  Each of these hostel guests are on missions, and had compelling stories, and getting to know them certainly enriched my own AT story.

Fob