1,365.6 Miles: Warwick, NY
Hiking from Deli-to-Deli recently!
Hello again! Writing to you from a gorgeous library (in the equally gorgeous little town) in Warwick, NY. Typing New York, honestly, is exciting on it’s own. While I’ve debated with folks on the trail for the past few weeks about where the line is officially for the “north” of the trail versus the mid-Atlantic, I feel that if I’m not there yet, it’s just around the corner.
This past stretch has been a wild one. After the never-ending trail of Virginia, I felt like I’d pushed the fast forward button on the trail— speeding through the much shorter states of West Virginia (a brief 8 miles), Maryland, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey.
Maryland was full of newly arrived “Flip-Floppers”, thru-hikers who are starting too late in the season to start at Georgia and so head from Harpers Ferry to Maine and then head south from Harpers to Georgia to avoid bad weather. Spending time around the relative newbies, felt akin to college freshman talking to weatherworn juniors— their raw excitement for being on the first legs of their journey injected some additional joy in my day and also reminded us all of how far we’d come/how our gear and food had changed/and how being on trail you acclimate to so much so fast.
If Maryland was brief and exciting, Pennsylvania was quite not that. Aside from the White Mountains in Vermont, Pennsylvania is probably the second most talked about section on trail from seasoned thru-hikers. I’d heard to bring a new pair of shoes before entering the state, to be prepared for injury from rolled ankles, and to learn how to rock climb in places for “Rockslyvania”. The trail in Pennsylvania is some of the flattest terrain and yet because of the exposed sections without trees and the rock fields in the Northern half of the state, it was not easy. More on this in the low points section.
As if to compensate for the rocky trail in their state, the best part of Pennsylvania were the trail angels (the AT name for people who help hikers out that often have hiked the trail previously, usually with food)— on the hottest day so far on trail someone had left Gatorades in a cooler by a road crossing, one man cooked up grilled cheeses and gave cream sodas after a bridge, and a former thru-hiker made quesadillas on a roadside coupled with brownies.
While “Rockslyvania” lived up to it’s name, the rumors I’d heard of New Jersey (“It’s an extension of the rocks in Pennsylvania”, “There’s glass and constant road crossings”) had me picturing a trail running parallel to my only prior exposure to the state— the New Jersey Turnpike near New York City. Fortunately, this couldn’t be farther from the truth. With ponds scattered around, board walks across bogs, delis and hot dogs stands popping up every ~25 miles or so, and a welcome change of scenery, it’s been one of my favorite states.
Notable Low Points
(starting with the lows this time so we end on a high note!)
As mentioned above, Pennsylvania was a rough one for me and most of people I’ve been hiking with. In a way, the entire state felt like an obstacle course of threats, a type of Spartan Race put on by a higher power that lasts around 200 miles and attempts to break you down in every way possible. (This is me exaggerating a bit, there were some redeeming parts too)
First came the hottest day on record that happened to coincide with walks through exposed pasture and roads AND one of the longest stretches on trail without water sources. Hello sunburn. Hello dehydration. When I finally got to a stream I drank 2 liters of water immediately and jumped in with full clothes on. Within 15 minutes I was dry again.
Not exactly what you want to walk through in searing heat And then, after having fun with no water and scorching heat, the weather switched to the opposite direction— the torrential downpours of thunderstorms, which also overlapped with…
The famous Pennsylvania rocks that, due to the thunderstorms, were slippery and very suboptimal to walk through. I fell often and scraped up my legs. My hiking pace slowed to a crawl and hiking poles were useless for large stretches.
Why would someone make this into a trail? And then, of course, to layer on top of that the hip belt of my pack stopped fitting properly placing all of the weight on my lower back. So when I climbed over the rocks, my back would abruptly give out and I’d face plant into granite. Fortunately, this was right before the wedding I’d leave trail for and I got off a day earlier than planned when my back pain hit it’s peak. Thankful for Charlotte Bowditch for giving me stretches/exercises to help with the pain!
While stopping often to take off my pack because of my back, mosquitos and flies seemed to seize every moment to bite and fly directly at my eyes. (Why do they do this? If you know, please respond, I’m dying to know!)
Finally, like the state was playing a practical joke on me, my last day in Pennsylvania nearly 25 baby slugs covered my tent and ground tarp which added approximately ~10 minutes of de-slugging my gear to that morning.
Notable High Points:
And yet within the madness of Pennsylvania, there were some great moments too!
Directly after the half-way point of the trail in Pine Grove, PA there is the infamous “Half Gallon Challenge” where hikers celebrate making it halfway by eating a full half gallon of ice cream. As someone who eats copious amounts of ice cream in my off-trail life, this was a food challenge meant for me. I completed it, then an hour late ordered a burger and fries feeling only slightly nauseous.
Another huge highlight was in early Maryland when my friend Sean and his girlfriend Brendan made the trek to deliver BLTs, fresh fruit, and blondies. Good food, good people good conversation.
Near the end of Pennsylvania, I headed off trail and back to DC for the first time in around 3 months for a wedding. While it was exceptionally disorienting to be eating real good food again, sleep in a bed for multiple nights, and have air conditioner again— the wedding was absolutely beautiful and I relished the time I spent with Henry and friends that I hadn’t seen in months!
Just last night was another high point and hiker tradition— in Warwick, a drive-in movie theater lets hikers camp out and watch the movies for free! A fairly large group of us set-up tents and watched the movie huddled around the radios they loaned us for the night.
Finally, heading into New Jersey, the scenery really began to feel different with new plants, birds, and an abundance of ponds and lakes. While I like hiking for hiking sake, it certainly makes it much more enjoyable with shifting views and I’ve loved the last few days!
Something I’ve Been Thinking About:
In order to get off for the wedding, head into the town of Palmerton, where I intended on getting a shuttle/Uber/whatever was possible into the larger town of Allentown to then rent a car and head to DC.
Palmerton didn’t have a ton of lodging options for the night, except for a small diner that allegedly let hikers sleep in the back of the restaurant from time to time. And so, to head to DC I slept in the back of this 1950s style diner after a text exchange with the owner.
After the half-gallon challenge, I spent the night in an old mansion that was converted into a hostel by the state. When I showed up, no one was working and a sign told me where to sign a book and then drop an envelope into a slot to pay.
Both of these situations I realized, afterwards while hiking, require quite a high amount of trust. Trust that random strangers won’t harm your restaurant. Trust that people will drop an envelope to pay when no one is watching.
I’ve been at hostel stores on trail where you fill out a slip of what you buy and then pay when you leave based or drop money into a can, again, wild amounts of trust involved. On the trail, constantly people offer free homemade food. A women offered for a group of us to sleep in her home and take showers in Boiling Springs, PA. People leave water in jugs in areas with few streams on the trail. In these situations, mutual trust forms the latticework that makes each moment possible.
Growing up in a small town, trust was the default. We didn’t lock our car, home, and even often kept the keys in the car when heading into anywhere. Everyone did the same. And then when I went off to college, that mindset seemed naïve to my roommate and nearly everyone else and I slowly learned to break those patterns and began locking doors, watching my stuff, questioning motives.
On trail, trust is as necessary as a tent to get to Katahdin. You rely upon other hikers you meet instantly, to get into most towns you hitchhike (which I do with a partner, so no worrying!), and so the instinct that many of us have built up that presses us to question motives or assume the worst, gives way to the pattern of assuming best intent, a re-enforcing positive feedback loop.
This past stretch, I’ve thought a lot about the balance of trust and suspicion/guardedness. On how good it feels to be locked into a pattern of trust and being trusted on trail, how you build that and create that in environments more generally. And, of course, how to pair that with measures to keep yourself safe, particularly as a woman who often hikes alone.
In the back of restaurant in Palmerton, I spoke with a recently retired hiker. After graduating from college, lost with what he wanted next, he spent 3 months hitchhiking across the Southwest of the U.S. He told me that then, hitchhikers (and picking them up) were exceptionally common and he’d sometimes be in a line of over 10 near some crowded highways. He’d get picked up by people of all sorts and had a roadtrip filled with conversations with strangers. He was nostalgic for that time. And honestly, so was I, for a time I never lived but perhaps when the trust of the trail extended a bit further.
To be clear, I’m in no way preaching trust at all times, advocating for a resurgence of hitchhiking, and completely letting your guard down. Instead, I’ve been thinking a lot about how trust amongst total strangers comes to be, why it leaves, and, if possible, how it can be brought back.
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And with that lengthy rant, thank you for reading and I’ll see y’all in around ~300 more miles.
Best,
Tierney // trailname: BeastMode
Some Additional Photos…
Thank you for the update and love you very much!