Extreme leisure warning: the walk

The warnings arrived from home, in the news, in my weather applications and in a text on the trail of the ApplaACHES CONSPERVANCE: Extreme heat was expected. In a low section with limited water, where I was already withering in the loose heat, temperatures were approaching in the ninety high, with a heat index in the hundreds. Anyone who has walked with me previously knows that heat is my kriptonite. I am the hiker who screwed into a stream in New Mexico on the first day of the CDT and lay in a straw of shadow cast by the shore of the River Dry until he cooled. I will pack my sun hood with snow to melt through my back or soak my shirt on each mountain stream. I spend a lot of time sitting in rivers and lakes. Pennsylvania does not offer any of these remedies; In a humid climate you cannot cool with evaporation, you are already soaked. In addition, there are less water ahead.

I still have no idea what the other hikers did, if they got up and walked to the three am and lay in the afternoon shadow slapped the flies, or if they went home for a while. I only know what our crew did, and it didn’t involve walking, just a lot of leisure. Tex had an injured spin that needed a break and the rest of us entered, persecuted by heat or drawn by fun. He started with two nights in large hotels, made the transition to a beautiful cabin owned by Bluey’s Friend in the state park, and cried a wave of loosening in an Airbnb with a pool. We climbed around Mechanicsburg, supplying cold food and drinks, ordering the door of the door and the delivery of Walmart. For four more days, we hid in the air conditioning, playing watching movies and playing monopoly (the man of private capital dominated, a big surprise). They consumed a lot of ice cream. At four o’clock in the afternoon, when the shadow reached the pool, we changed the arm chairs at the pool of the pool, and from Topo Chico to IPA. It was a free week without walk, a whole week behind where we expected to be.

Taxman fought with the rest more. A former university soccer player, his competitive nature wanted to move on. The slower hikers would happen to us. It was shameful. Everyone else had more motivation to be lazy, either by a house visitor or an injury. As a person with somewhat fragile health, I have a tremendous respect for the power of heat and my inability to get it. This was a whole week to rest, lower blood pressure, eat and refresh my resolution to have made. The Halfway Point is always encouraging and demoralizing and a trail vacation sounded wonderful. I tried some different fast food: Chick-Fil-A (Yay), Buffalo Wild Wings (NO) and crispy lime cake (Yum). He had green salad and vegetables with real food; I even cooked.

Here were the last two days that was in motion:

Day 78, 19.9 miles to Ironmaster’s mansion shelter

Wingnut and Frickle left me in the routers in Fayetteville, Pennsylvania. I thought I could take some things and then arrive at the post office on the other side of the street. It turns out that it is facing a different routter than later, so I had to make horstop. It was easy to take a walk and dropped me in the PO, which I had my medication package. There was a family dollar next to it, which would have been cheaper than Routters. UPS. I put another hitch back to the road and immediately stepped on the deep mud. It wasn’t going to be a dry day after all.

It was hot when I started walking around 9:00, but cloudy. From time to time, the sun would reach its maximum point and felt like an ant that came out of a magnifying glass, the sun felt instantly lethal. Thank God, I am walking through a green forest tunnel. I raised the great initial climbing of the city and passed a beautiful shelter to a crossroads, I took everything out and extended it by the gravel to dry. Fortunately, I didn’t have to run and mark any car around my explosion of hikers. I have a dry equipment for the first time in days.

In Oregon, when it is rainy, it is also great. There is no warm rain or especially hot rain, so the humid team is more than miserable, it is dangerous. Last night, my interior of the store, sleeping pad, comforted, pillow, shoes, package and dry bags were wet to wet. Only my sleep clothes were most dry, but I was too hot all night. I can’t understand it.

After everything was dry, I packed and did about ten miles before it started to make it. The downpour did not bothered me so much with the poncho to keep me dry (a layer of rain is too hot), but the path was freely flooded and that meant stepping carefully to avoid falling into the mud or tripping with a rock underwater. I changed to a gravel road that parallel to the path. The road had also flooded, but it was well accumulated and without mud. After a few miles, I changed and fought with the deep mud all afternoon.

Finally I arrived at the shelter around 7:30. It was not great, and inadvertently I ended up in the rnador’s bedroom while avoiding a sick hiker above. There is a strong fan and I hope it obscures the rumble. I have become more tolerant to snoring and also better for medications to fall asleep quickly.

Day 79, 19.2 miles to boiling springs

I slept well without snoring and left around seven while it was still great, but I could hear the dumb cicadas. Puck and Descalzo burned, walking much faster than I am able to accelerate. The second breakfast mentioned analyzing how some people can walk so fast, so effortlessly. None of us understand it, how they slide on rocks and roots, up and down of steep sections, while chatting happily and barely breathe fast. It is a bit discouraging; I have never been the fastest, but I am not used to hikers either.

I stopped for lunch at the Green Mountain store: coffee after the weak coffee and breakfast protein, after the carbohydrate only rate. Then I pushed, I returned to the soaked forest and buzzing. The 17 -year -old cicadras are emerging after a low -ground life to mate. His shed skins were thick under the trees and the ground was full of bodies from which they already muddled and died. I stunned insect (like an infestation of cockroaches) and made fun of drunk teenagers, they helped me on my forehead and stuck in my clothes. Someone described them as magical, and unfortunately does not share that opinion. A cicada, which emerges from 17 years underground, which came off and flies to sing, that is magical. Millions of cicadas doing the same, that is horrible.

Most of the day was more mud and buzz, but there was a steep climb on rocks. The path curled the rocks, requiring some hands on the climb. I had to throw my backpack once and Shimmy after it. This struggle was the highlight of the last days, but I consider that at the end of Rocksylvannia, I will be cursing similar land. A quarter of scrolla mile in a week of escape forest is refreshing, hundreds of rock miles sound overwhelming.

The last miles in springs boiling wandered through the cultivation lands. The path directly crossed the impressive city, passing an old cast iron and the lake with bubble bubbles from which the city is named. The historical houses align in the lake and fell in love with a pale pink house with water views. He had Burria Tacos cheese in coffee (!) And ice cream from a cream truck while waiting next to the clock tower for the transport driver. It was of boiling springs and explained part of local history, such as how they cut each tree during miles to feed the iron industry, which explains the lack of giant trees here. I made him laugh by a local name of the street, where he never thought, having grown here. For me, «Walnut Bottom Road» sounds as if someone has an unfortunately wrinkled back, not a swamp with walnut.

The day ended wonderfully, with a fabulous shower, an IPA, good company and a soft bed; Tex and Taxman generously shared their space. The best thing about this path is the community, but the link that builds with specific people is key. He had been in a bubble of «taking his hands and sharing hearts and minds» or «Telling the hikers in the bears stories section.» It was a relief to hang with my tribe and not do either of them, although I will miss the second breakfast. He was so incredibly friendly and essentially British: he works in a trains museum that he managed volunteer teachers, and nothing feels more British than to organize the trains enthusiasts, than everything he said seemed exclusively charming.