The Doyle Hotel

I stayed at the 100 year old Doyle Hotel last night in Duncannon, PA. A flea bag kind of place. It's more like a hostel these days, which seems to happen when a hotel owner stops giving a shit about it. I wouldn't be surprised if the first hostel got its name when some dispassionate hotel owner misspelled hotel on the sign out front and just said, "Ah screw it. I'm done fixing things here." This seemed to be the case with the forth floor shower where a sign said, "Please make sure the shower curtain is tucked into the shower or water may leak into the third floor shower and knock down ceiling tiles." I took my shower on the fourth floor even though my room was on the third, since water damage there proved not everyone reads signs.

I feel bad saying anything negative about the Doyle, though, because the owners, Pat and Vicky, were great. The kind of people that make this type of travel unique and more memorable. But man, I literally picked a flea off my sleeping bag last night. I have to call it what it is.

The old twenty five dollar a night hotel wasn't without charm. My room sat two floors above a cozy pub on the first floor. I got hungry last night and went downstairs. Pat made me a hot pastrami sandwich on rye and a bowl of delicious clam chowder. Pat is a fantastic cook and pointed out more than once that he had to do all the cooking because his wife, Vicky, couldn't cook worh a shit. A fact she happily agreed with as he smiled and kissed her on the cheek. One thing Vicky is good at though, is making you feel at home. It came naturally with her warm chubby cheeked smile framed by gray pigtails. She served me my food and drinks while we watched a celebrity gossip show on TV and talked about the trail.

When I was ready to head up to bed, she asked if I had everything I needed, gave me a hug, and wished me luck on the rest of my hike. I didn't realize until morning that I did need something, direction on how to exit the building. I went up to my room all day yesterday through a door by the pub that was locked at night from the outside and didn't get unlocked until the pub opens. I walked around for fifteen minutes confused and frustrated until I found a way out. So, if you ever find yourself staying at the Doyle, don't forget to tell Pat and Vicky I said hello, and to exit the building go to the second floor balcony, make two right turns then walk down the outside staircase.

Pleasant Pond Mountain

A cool breeze just isn't the same as when you climb a mountain to get to it. I'm very happy with my decision to do this. Since I boarded the train, I have not had a moment of regret. Even when I was on Moxie Bald last night in a thunderstorm. The sky was bright and blue on the way up. The storm clouds were hiding on the other side. The lightning began to strike as soon as I was on top of the bald. Exactly where you don't want to be when thunder cracks above your head.

I ran below treeline and the downpour came down so hard it turned the trail to a stream in minutes. I sloshed through one and three quarter miles of mud and water to the next shelter, while singing the Pearl Jam song, Driftin':

Drifting, drifting, drifting away.
I got myself a mansion, then I gave it away.
It's not the world that's heavy, just the things that you save.
And I'm drifting, drifting away.

Drifting, drifting, drifting along.
I rid myself of worries, and the worries were gone.
I only run when I want to and I sleep like a dog.
I'm just drifting, drifting along.

The suitcoats say, 'There is money to be made.'
They get so damn excited, nothing gets in their way
My road it may be lonely just because it's not paved.
It's good for drifting, drifting away.

Drifting, drifting, drifting, along.
I feel like going back there, but never for long.
I sometimes wonder if they know that I'm gone.
I'm just drifting, drifting along.

Crossroads

At a crossroad. Bambi is having bad foot problems that will take at least a couple days to heal enough to move on. I gave her my backup lightweight trail running shoes to replace her boots (luckily I have the feet of a petite 18 year old girl). I think that will help. We are trying to decide how we can stay together and give her time to heal. I think the girls will shuttle ahead a few days and wait for us. We formed a great little family here. We are all too attached to each other to want to split up right now. We've been through a lot, it would be nice to reach Springer together.

Just about ready to hit the trail. We have 75 miles to Stratton, ME before our next resupply.
(In the photo, Mock-a-Son eating a block of cheese, Red with a pint of Ben & Jerry, and Bambi)

Fourth Mountain

Pictures can't do the landscape justice. The difference between seeing a photo and being here is about the same as kissing a photo of a loved one and actually embracing them in person. Wish you could all be here to see it.

Summited four mountains so far today.. one more to go. Once we get out of Maine and New Hampshire they say 20% off the trail is finished, but 80% of the effort. This is no Walk in the Woods.

Thumper and Red at WHL

I have met a lot of wonderful people on this trip, that I will write more about when I can get to a computer, however this is two of four I find myself with every night (Thumper and Red). I know eventually our hiking pace will change, but I will find it hard to leave them behind. We tend to hike our own pace during the day, but all look forward to hanging out at night. And it has been a blast. I feel like I've known them for years already.

I think we'll stay together at least for a July 4th night in Monson. Then hopefully we will all be ready for some long days on the trail. Getting seperated is a sad thought, but I want to be sure I finish by Thanksgiving.

Trail Name Story #1

I heard my favorite story of how a hiker got his trail name. His friends were calling him One Way. I assumed his name meant he was heading only one direction, north to Maine.

He and his friends were trying to figure out the safest way to climb down a hill. He went first, fell, and slid to the bottom. One of his friends said, "Well, that's one way to do it." And the name stuck.

In the photo you see what I've been doing this whole time... Following the white blazes. The AT is marked by them at least every 100 yards or so to keep you on track.

White House Landing

A mile from the Appalachian Trail lies an oasis in the 100 mile wilderness. The side trail ends at a dock on a massive lake. Sound an air horn that is tied to a tree and minutes later there is Bill in a boat, the owner of White House Landing, coming to pick you up.

No phones or electricity, but WHL provides a small restaurant, bunkhouse, cabins, and showers for weary hikers or whoever else finds themselves in the Middle of Nowhere, Maine. After a shower, I headed to the restaurant for lunch. They have a high calorie hiker menu. I had the one pound deluxe hamburger with everything. Five days ago I wouldn't have thought that was very appetizing. But a lot has happened in five days.

After lunch, I washed clothes by hand in a tub. Then took their kayak out on the lake and paddled around with a loon. Now I'm relaxing on their porch swing. I could get used to this simple life.

I'm rested and ready for the 68 miles over White Cap Mountain into Monson, Maine, my next resupply point.

View of Katahdin

Another amazing day. I've been hiking with Thumper, Bambi, and Red today. I thought I would have spent more time alone than I have, but I'm really enjoying our nights at camp together. We all have our story of how we got here and why.

We just took a dip in a beautiful remote mountain lake under the first blue sky we have seen in a while. Now we are sitting on bedrock looking out at Katahdin (In the background). It's hard to believe I was on top of that mountain just 3 days ago.

I'm sorry to have to keep these posts so short and infrequent, but cell phone reception is rare in Maine's 100 mile Wilderness. As the name suggests, it is quite remote out here.

Only 2,146 miles to go!

Rainbow Ledges

I wanted to have some time alone today, so stayed at the shelter a little longer this morning to give all the other Sobos (southbounders) some distance on me. I think I heard a moose forty yards away just now. I'm going to hang out here quietly for a bit to see if it comes out.

I met more hikers at the Hurd Brook shelter last night. Two sisters from Kentucky going by the trail names Bambi and Thumper. I've been given the name Cam, short for The Cameraman, since I stop to take so many photos (anyone surprised?). It hasn't really stuck yet though. I'm still Ryan for the most part. At the shelter, I also met a retired French couple who don't speak a word of English. We try to speak through a very rudimentary form of sign language, but that isn't working well.

This is only day three, but I feel confident I will make it to Georgia. I'm having the time of my life.

On the trail

This is the first cell signal I've noticed since Katahdin. We caught back up with the hiker called Moccasin, who had to turn back on Katahdin, so there are still three of us hiking together. Just wanted everyone to know I'm still safe and everything is going very well. I am getting rained on one mile south of Abol Bridge just south of Baxter State Park. I'll update the blog soon as I can, but given the remoteness of this section, it won't be that frequent for a while...

Made It To Katahdin!

And so it begins. I'm at the Northern Terminus of the AT. The trip up was the hardest I've hiked. 60 mph wind gusts, pellets of rain pelting my face, and steep climbs requiring all fours. I wanted adventure and that's what I got. One member of our group had to head back down due to not having good rain and wind gear. I hope we meet back up with him again.

So far it's been amazing, the views breathtaking. I wanted to show you the view, but a cloud has moved in, so it's all white right now.

Anyway, just wanted to let you know all is well.