August was a messy month for me and my family. A lot of changes were coming up in September.  We were prepping for new schools, covid, internships/ Master’s degree programs, soccer,  growth and purchases at the business and all of these were wearing me or us down. My husband and I continued to bump heads and trace circles around old communication habits that we’ve since graduated from. The anxiety and stress were palpable as we tried to enjoy the last bit of summer with our boys. 

The segment 9 planning was mostly managed by Celia, thank goodness! She needed to be the planner as the rocks and nerves about Pennsylvania in general required her to set the bar on what she wanted, yet she also managed to find us Frank, her college friend, hostels and food plans for the full 4 day segment. She was my hero as I tried to follow her texts and peek at Guthook before blindly agreeing to her plan.   

We were off trail so long this time, it was hard to imagine the project with the added complications of the school year. I was stressed out. The timing of our segment had ended up being the worst for my family. Dave was not thrilled with me, but didn’t fully share this until hours before Celia and I would be in the car driving to Caledonia State Park. I shoved down my frustration with our failed communication threads and planned to think on the trail where I’d have lots of time to do so. Celia arrived Wednesday night to BWI airport and I brought her back to my house where we prepped for morning.

Thursday morning of September 9th Celia and I woke up just before 4am, made coffee and packed up for the weekend. We had a rainy drive to Caledonia State Park, but it had stopped by the time we parked. There were no other cars and I was nervous about leaving my vehicle, though neither of us saw a “no overnight parking” sign. Within a few minutes we were ready to hit the trail. 

We backtracked to the bridge in the park where we’d stopped last time and then began hiking through and out of the park in the dark. The trail was as smooth and as flat as a track. We took our time getting into motion but eventually started trotting a bit. Celia was still mentally preparing for the rocks to come and wanted to keep it very easy. I too wondered about the rocks, but I was much more excited about them. At mile 1100, we took pictures at the Appalachian Trail Halfway point. Then I took off jogging down the smooth wet trail. 

I mentioned it had been raining, and although no more rain fell on us the forest was cool, grey and damp. The ground was saturated, streams and puddles filled the trail. It was so pleasant to be at a comfortable body temperature and although our feet were wet, we didn’t need to worry about dehydration, finally! 

Not long after I took off jogging, I came to a much nicer public display of the “Halfway point”. This was BIG, I had to wait for Celia, so I did. We took the appropriate videos and photos and then we were off again. The miles began to fly.

I had gone from trotting to running. There was very little rock, a few rock gardens for sure, but mostly the trail was inviting and easy to hold at a smooth pace. The inclines were so gentle you could jog up them and I really only needed occasional walk breaks to keep my overall output nice and low. I had a lovely time. Without any major climbs there were no big highlights of the day. Mostly I struggled in my head with adjusting to the discomforts after the 30 mile mark. This is always a given, every time we go out, so I pushed onward until I came to these gorgeous pastures that dump you out right into Boiling Springs, PA. There you follow a park path next to Children's Lake right to the front door of the ATC headquarters.

Celia was a couple of hours behind me and our Hostel hostess, Lisa, asked that I wait for her before she would come pick us up for the night, so I walked up the road to town and found myself eating fish tacos at Cafe 101 watching the sky darken and prepare for a thunderstorm. It began to rain and I sat happily under an outside restaurant umbrella, slightly disappointed that Celia would not have the gorgeous blue skies I experienced coming into town. I headed back to the ATC and Celia finished shortly after. 

Lisa and her husband came to get us, we were given a quick but sufficient tour of our small home for the night. We showered, repacked and did laundry since everything was wet. We were in bed by 9PM and Celia had managed to find a shuttle ride for 4:30AM, with Michael but at a fair cost. 

The next morning was like most of our hostel stays, we woke up, ate, got dressed and mentally prepared for long hours ahead. This time though we had no coffee! Luckily I had some back up caffeine but still, it was the first hostel stay without coffee we’d ever had to endure!

Michael was ready and waiting for us before 4:30, he was kind and shared his story as an angel of trail and his community. 

September 10th, our long day of 43 miles, started out as wonderfully as it could. The trail remained pancake flat and smooth for the first 12 miles. I left Celia that day right after our sunrise picture. I was feeling well and although I always go easy on day 1, by day 2 I feel like I should start looking for the limits. I took off running, and managed to get my average above 4 mph by 3 hours in! I was mind blown and certain I couldn’t do that all day, but I surely thought it’d be fun to try and see how long I could go. 

Right before a climb I had passed PA route 944 and I came up behind a day hiker with her dog. As soon as they came into view I clanked my poles and said, “Good morning”, yet the hiker’s response was abrasive as she grabbed her unleashed dog and said, “You can’t sneak up on people like that!” I apologized that she felt I’d snuck up, that I’d tried to be as loud as I could and with growing distance between us she shouted at me, “You’ll have to try harder!” This was such an emotional trigger for me. The frustration drove me up the climb as I tried to think of “meaner” come-backs that a whittier person might have used. I never did think of anything good to say, which is probably for the best.

The climb was not very impressive and afterwards it felt like a lot more runnable downhill. I arrived in Duncannon, PA at about 5 hours into my day and found myself inside the first gas station slurping down pumpkin spiced coffee, stocking up on emergency caffeine tabs (in case we were without coffee again) and taking the opportunity to use a real bathroom. Here I came to terms with how disgusting my shoes smelt after the water the prior day. The bacterial scent was perfuse. Walking upright I could smell my feet, I wondered what a petri dish from a sample from the sole of my shoe would look like. After 15 minutes, I continued through town, running almost 1.5 miles of flat side walks that lead across two bridges prior to crossing US route 22 and taking you up a really fun climb.

At the top, the rocks continued and we began to get our first chunks of the true rock gardens of PA. They were short and sweet at that point and riddled with smooth runnable sections in between, until they weren’t. The last 10 miles of the day were rockier than anything we’d covered yet. It was very runnable for me and I was thrilled that my legs were allowing me to bounce from rock to rock, but I kept imagining Celia carefully and precisely placing her feet and how challenging this afternoon would be for her.  

That evening Frank, Celia’s friend from college, would meet us at mile 1167, Clark’s Valley road parking lot with food, tent, and the works. I reached out to him to give him my ETA and beg for Lysol spray to kill whatever was growing in my shoes. At that point I was going to be done before 4pm and Frank wasn’t sure he’d make it before I was done. When I was within a couple miles of our stop point I pulled out my phone and found “No Service” in the top left corner. “Crap, what if he didn’t think to bring water” I thought to myself as if the man with food, tent, shower set up etc.. wouldn’t have water, but my bottles were empty and if he wasn’t there when I arrived I didn’t want to be without. So I backtracked on the trail 0.1 miles to the last spring and headed down off trail another 0.1 to the spring where I took my sweet time drinking, filtering and filling all my bottles. 

About five minutes later, I walked to the parking lot where Frank was setting up and saw the large creek. I laughed at my decision to walk the extra 0.4 miles and sit in the dirt near the spring when I had gallons and gallons right in front of me, and Frank had clearly beat me to the parking lot and of course had a cooler full of water.

I sat and ate Rotisserie chicken while having some intermittent small chat with Frank. He had everything we could possibly need and plenty more. I took a quick rinse in the camping shower set-up he’d put together and changed into sweatpants and a hoody. I put my compression socks on and covered those with some thick fluffy socks he’d brought for us. I made myself comfortable for the long wait alone and without cell service as Frank packed up to go hike to Celia and bring her in for an 8pm finish for the day. I made sure to give him Dave’s cell so he could text my husband and just let him know I was safe and sound.

I hung out, listened to my audiobook, made a video, ate an entire box of rice and some more chicken. I was anxious for Celia to arrive. I paced to the trailhead and back to the vehicle a few times, listening to the forest for sounds of voices, but I didn’t hear them.

Right after dark, Celia arrived and Frank and I focused on getting her prepped for the next day.  I  managed to charge her things that needed charging, Frank made sure she had warm clothing and Celia started to take in calories. It’s gotten to be a pretty smooth flow, yet I worried, as I do, that Celia was going to be mentally tanked from the long hours on her feet. She remained in good spirits and this was, of course, no surprise. I hoped she truly was still having fun. 

That night the large hornets swarmed the lantern we were using and every time Frank opened his truck door the truck’s light drew them inside his truck. Eventually with all the back and forth of preparations for bed and the next day, one got in our tent set up too! It was annoying more than anything that we had to draw them out and waste the energy dodging their anxiety inducing buzzing.  We did, however, all sleep fine with no hornets in our bedding.

The next morning came slowly as we tossed and turned. We’d agreed to sleep in a bit since Celia had such a long day and we only had 38 miles to cover. We were, as usual, very ready to get up. After all the running I’d done the prior day I was a bit sore, but much more recovered than I expected to be. We ate, caffeinated and took our photos with Frank before we hit the trail. 

We began with a bit of climb which we both really appreciated. PA hadn’t given us too many climbs and especially first thing in the morning, as we’re warming up and working out the kinks, we really like a climb. Celia was doing really well considering. She was definitely not full of positivity in the dark as we managed over some rocks and I struggled to stay with her until dawn. I was, for some odd reason, feeling really good and the trail was just opening up to flat and smooth terrain. 

After our morning photo I opened up my pace and just went with it. Next thing I knew I was running along these open fields and then on this gorgeous wide forested trail. Soon enough signs about the flooded Beaver Dam, noted in Guthook, appeared on the trail. You could detour for 1.5miles or go straight through. Reports in Guthook definitely made it sound wet, but passable. 

When I came to Stony Creek it was truly flooded. I followed the obvious path-like line of downed trees and came to a point where only the water was ahead of me, murky and uninviting. I looked to my left and found a downed tree I could attempt to walk on, it was underwater too, but only a few centimeters, though I had no idea if it’d sink with my weight. Using my poles I balanced through the water on the tree and then the next and the next. I climbed over a large downed tree and then continued on the sunken boardwalk path until I was back on solid ground. 

The trail was rocky but smooth enough to run. I was holding onto a 3.8 mph pace so far for that day and was again chasing myself down the trail just for fun. Just like much of VA we would have climbs followed by ridgelines for miles. This means rocks and limited water sources, but in the gorgeous September temperatures we were having it was very pleasant. 

This day was September 11, 2021. I spent a large portion of my day running the rocky trail thinking about 9/11, trying to honor those that were injured and killed on that awful day and what that day meant for the United States. I honestly don’t remember much of the trail itself, I was just having a really good time running and so very grateful to have been doing so. The only event of note was the wasp sting to my left buttcheek.  A hiker warned me of angry wasps and I’d been looking high and low, ready to give them space, but I never saw a thing, just a sudden sharp sting. I cursed and jumped, I swear it must have looked just like a cartoon. For a minute I hobbled in pain but I was grateful, of all the areas to get stung, that seemed like one of the best.

It seemed like a short day when I popped out on PA route 183 at about 2:30 in the afternoon and messaged Craig from the Rock n’ Sole Hostel that I had arrived and would love to be picked up. He was there within 5 minutes and the drive to his home and hostel was short. Once there he toured me around the beautiful property, the hiker lounge, the creek, the outdoor shower and everything else. 

I picked out some hiker clothing (donated clothes for hikers to borrow) and took an amazing shower. I sprayed my once again wet and stinky shoes with Lysol and tossed my clothes in a bag for laundry (included in our stay). I prepped my pack, started charging things then sat outside by the creek drinking hot chocolate while I shared some of our stories on social media. 

I was happy, but I had to try to be. Sitting around in a beautiful space relaxing, well, it’s nice,  it’s nice because it sounds nice. In reality though, it’s my nemesis, “Stillness.” I purposefully delete “Stillness” from my life. I just don't prefer it. I missed my boys. Not to mention, the conversations with my husband before leaving home plagued my mind and heart. Can I really fathom the impact my FKT dreams hold, the time away from home, which “world” do I belong in? the trail or real life? The trail calls, but I adore my real life. I am happy in both, and will not sacrifice one for another. They are as distinctly different as night and day and require a similar circadian type balance in my life. That all to say, I wished I was still on the trail. “Hanging out” in my trail world is slightly out of balance with my real world. If I’m not moving, then I don’t feel I belong. 

Thankfully, Celia arrived after managing to hitchhike a ride to the hostel where I again helped in any way I could. She was tired but again, and as always, in really good spirits. Our restaurant food arrived and we ate some solid calories. We chatted over dinner outside and as usual knocked out our evening tasks. 

I spoke with my family and had a nice talk with the hostel owners Craig and Jody before we all retired to bed, as Jody would be up in the morning with hot coffee and ride back to the trail for us. 

We were swimming in gratitude as we drank our morning coffee and got prepared for our fourth and final big day of the segment. I was tired, my muscles were sore, I’d managed 3 solid days and I was ready to slow down if I had to. We knew from talking with Jody and Craig that we had about 10 miles of nice trail before 31 miles of significantly more rock than we’d faced up to that point. At least we could mentally prepare.

The trail really was smooth to start. Celia and I hung together late into sunrise before I found a touch of motivation. I willed myself to go with it and forced a jog. It took a few minutes to get into it, but I did. It wasn’t long from there that I descended to Port Clinton, PA. That descent was a doozy! There is a dirt road crossing before the final descent and I recall thinking, “Pheww, flat ground, at least for a second!” and then you descend another 150’ in 0.15 miles to the train tracks. Here I found a picnic table and sat for a moment, collecting myself and having a snack. Then in a minute or two I was back up and running through town, glad that it was daylight and I wasn’t navigating these towns in the dark alone. 

After Port Clinton, there is a lovely climb back out of town. This is a simple AT pleasure, the descents to town and ascents from town. I’m not sure why, but they keep my fictional self satisfied as I explore the majority of the East Coast on foot, they remind me of the history of the trail and the people that have traversed the trail before me.

 Now, the rocks. They were there, as promised, quite a few but still somewhat/ intermittently runnable I felt. Then in between these hard sections there was plenty of wide clear trail where you can run strong, and I swear all of PA feels downhill aside from the few climbs mentioned. I arrived at Furnace Creek, well ahead of any mental schedule I had for myself. I was set up to meet Frank at mile 1235, 29 miles into the day by about 12:30pm. I texted him, filled my water bottles and headed up a very populated climb to Pulpit Rock. 

This climb was so much fun, like rock stairs the entire way, not to mention enjoying the company of other humans! At the top I scurried to the view, snapped a few pictures and headed back into the next chunk of rocks. This leads you to a giant pile of small rocks denoting a side trail to the Pinnacle. Here, the trail was confusing. I pulled up Guthook to see that it takes a 140 degree turn, so you are nearly going back the way you came. I stared at Guthook until I was certain I wasn’t backtracking, then the trail got weird.

 The Appalachian Trail became a gravel road, smooth, runnable dowhill road and continued like this for what seemed like forever, definitely miles. My legs burned from the downhill pounding as I refused to walk the downhill slope, I was making killer time for the 4th, 40 mile day! This drove me to keep on going. Finally, I popped out to Hawk Mountain rd and within 3 minutes Frank and his daughter Emily pulled up and I happily took a seat. I drank a cold Bulletproof coffee and unloaded any weight I didn’t need for the next 11 miles as we’d see Frank at the end of the day. I chatted for a few, but knew I was just wasting time now and got myself back up. 

That day, Sunday, it was much hotter, (about 83 degrees), than it had been the prior three days and we had to put effort into caring for ourselves in the heat again. I was doing fine but I was hot and uncomfortable on the climb up Hawk Mountain. I could feel the excess caffeine in my chest, but after a few more minutes my body stabilized. I hiked through the rock garden where I met a hiker watching some Timber rattlesnakes and stopped to snap some pictures and chat before continuing into the rocks. 

After about 2.5 miles of rocks the trail opened up again to grassy yet smooth runnable dirt road. I had already stopped my internal drive for the day and had my headphones in listening to the end of Heather Anderson’s PCT journey, but with the trail that smooth, I had to run, a little bit. It wasn’t long from there that the trail moves parallel to PA route 309 and you pass Thunderhead Lodge and slightly up the trail you pop out to the road crossing. This would be our stopping point. I texted Frank who arrived just a minute later and drove me to our hostel, The Shanty at Blue Mountain.

Once we arrived, Lynn, the owner, gave me the tour and again I began the waiting and “Stillness” although today I was more tired from the heat and that made me appreciate the excessive rest a bit more. I showered, charged, ate, repacked and eventually started a movie on Netflix. 

A Southbound hiker was also staying, “Pep Talk”. We chatted for a few but he mostly kept to himself. I was eager to chat with him more about the northern states but overall he stayed in his room so I didn’t seek him out.

Celia arrived after dark. She’d had a long day on the rocks, and a few minutes of being off trail in the brush. We shared stories from our day and went about the usual evening activities. The next day we knew it would be a short 13 miles before we needed to be on our way back to MD, so I wouldn’t miss my big kid’s school bus and pick up my little kid from his school. We opted for a 5:30 start, since Lynn was bringing us back to the trail and we wanted to be a little kinder than our 4:30am requests.

We slept as well as ever, so not very well at all, but we were still grateful for the soft bedding and pillows. We were up and moving and ready to go right on time.

The trail that last day started with rocks, followed by rock gardens and then a rock garden ridgeline, a knife’s edge kind of deal. Celia was not thrilled and we started crunching worst case scenario numbers. We debated stopping only 5.5 miles into the day when we found a wonderful overnight parking lot, but I really knew deep down, Celia would have no trouble finishing today’s miles in time, so we pushed on to our goal. I did some running but found myself text messaging with my husband about our children and how many times removed a covid exposure can be. Although not a true exposure, my husband was going for a test to be certain, so he’d be home all day, the pressure to finish on time was significantly lessened. Then I was messaging my friend Richard, my friend Raechel, and then looking up anniversary presents, next thing I knew I was almost done. I started running and took time for some dorky pics and finished before 10am. 

Frank arrived and soon after Celia finished happy with her extra drive from the added time pressure. We sat for a few before piling into his truck for the 2 hour ride back to Caledonia State Park. When we arrived, as we entered the park, the “No Overnight Parking” sign was quite clear. My stomach knotted as I wondered what the cost of our 4 nights would be in tickets, but luckily I knew my car was still there thanks to the high tech gps stuff. When we pulled up next to my car, the white paper on the windshield was unmistakable. I walked up and turned it over to find a “Warning Notice” with a white post-it that read “If you get back and the gate is closed, just lift the lock to exit.” I was shocked and in awe at the kindness. Not only had this kind soul not ticketed me, they had given me directions on how to leave when we were ready. It was very sweet, especially after the Park Rangers in Shenandoah National Park that clearly had been trained not to make that kind of exception. 

Once again, another huge chunk of the AT completed and this time with huge Thanks to Frank!! Thanks to your kindness and efforts we had another seamless adventure.