I’m not going to even include a photo of the rocks! I hate them that much! Read this next part in Forest Gump’s voice: I hate rocks! All rocks! Pointy rocks. Little rocks. Big rocks. Flat rocks. Rocks that roll. Rocks that shift. Boulders. Pea gravel. You get the idea.

Today was hard. Which is what I have come to expect from Rocksylvania. However today almost broke me – literally and figuratively. I got an early start and was feeling pretty good. I had my three possible stopping places planned. They were 9, 11, 14 miles respectively. Handled the first bit of uphill fine; feeling really good. I think I am getting better and faster at finding good foot placement on rocky sections of the trail. Making good time, so I’m hoping I can do more than 9 miles. Then I hit a stretch of easy trail – one of those magical miles I described yesterday, pretty and soft cushy dirt. Now I was sure I could do at least 11 miles. As the day went on I got a few more not so rocky miles and I was getting faster at the rocky miles too. 14 miles became my goal.

About halfway through the day I realized I had only seen one other hiker. That hiker had passed me around 8am. Whenever a thru hiker passes me, I play this fun little game (at least it is fun to me), where I increase my speed and try to keep them in sight as long as possible. It usually isn’t long because they are fast and I am very slow, but it motivates and entertains me for a few minutes every time. However around 1pm, it occurred to me that I hadn’t see a single person since that quick pass at 8am. I know I would remember, because I always ask their trail name and then play the keep up game. At 1pm, I have made it 9 miles to the shelter that was my first goal for the day. It is an extra .3 miles each way to the shelter – no way am I adding another half mile to my day just to sit on a bench. I decide to plop down on a rock in the middle of the trail and take my 30 minute break. Using Murphy’s law as my reasoning, I’m sure that a hiker is guaranteed to pass me while I am sprawled in the middle of the trail (same reasoning applies if you don’t step far enough off of the trail to take a bathroom break). No one comes. Weird.

Lunch break finished, I start hiking again. By 2pm, I am at my 11 mile stop, but that is too early to quit hiking and I decided to go for my 14 mile stop. I camel up and fill my water bottle at the creek at the 11 mile stop, but I don’t take any extra water because 1) I don’t want to carry it and 2) the map says there is a reliable water source at the 14 mile stop, which is major part of the reason I chose it as a stopping point.

My hiking slowed down because 1) I knew I was going to make my reach goal, 2) I was tired, 3) why not? I had the rest of the day to go 3 miles. Also I was fantasizing about a burger for dinner. The only way to get a burger for dinner from where I was, was to hike all the way to Port Clinton, PA. I knew I couldn’t do that because that would make me have an 18 mile day and I was already beat. My knees, ankles, hips, and legs were all throbbing from the miles of hiking over rocks and boulders. So I was more strolling than hiking.

Around 4pm, I check my app/map because I should have arrived at the stream near my planned campsite – you know the one that is listed as a reliable water source. Somehow I have passed it. Possible I suppose, maybe I was day dreaming. I turn around and hike back. I did pass it. Not because I was day dreaming, but because it is dry as a bone! Now I was nervous. Not panicked, but nervous. I hiked 14 miles to get here, counting on being able to get water not just for the night, but to start my hike in the morning. I walk the stream a little ways in both directions to see if there is water. Nope no water. I’m wondering what the hell am I going to do? Also I’m instantly thirstier than I have ever been in my life! Just the thought of no water makes me want it even more and I was already thirsty. I was just waiting to get to the stream before completely emptying my water bottle.

I sit down on a rock to figure out what to do (my feet and ankles were killing me and pacing was NOT an option). I checked the map and the next water source is 4 miles. My options are stay overnight without water or hike 4 miles to water. I haven’t seen anyone all day so the chances of a hiker passing with water to spare is slim to none. It is 4:30pm. I have at least 3 more hours of sunlight to hike the 4 miles. I am so tired after 14 miles, and hiking on rocky trails when you are tired and thirsty seems foolish, but staying with no water and then hiking for 4 miles in the morning also seems foolish. The tipping point is that if I make it to town I can get a burger. I calculate the distance and figure even going slowly and carefully I can make it into town between 6:30 and 7pm. I check to make sure there is a place to stay/camp and that a restaurant will be open until at least 7pm. Yes to both.

So I start hiking to town. Inside my head I was writing the outraged email to send the app/map people for making this egregious mistake about the water source. I was also telling myself that I wasn’t nearly as thirsty as I thought. I could make it to town with the half cup of water I had. I was also cussing the rocks. It seems to me that a general rule of hiking in Rocksylvania is the more tired you are, the more rocks there are, the more rocks you step on, the more it hurts. I felt like my feet were pinballs just bouncing off rocks to hit more rocks. My knees and hips did not appreciate the pinball effect. Also the more tired I was, the more “toe catches” I did. I don’t know if “toe catch” is an official hiking term or not, but it should be. A toe catch is where the tip of your shoe just catches the top of a rock as you are stepping forward. It catches just enough to throw you off balance. If it is a bad toe catch it can make you stumble. A toe catch, followed by a stumble, is usually followed by a quick step with your other foot to regain your balance. Then a quick step with the originally toe catching foot to keep your balance. If any of these quick steps are done onto a rock or also include a second toe catch, it can be a painful little dance. From a distance it probably looks like a vicious and painful game of hopscotch. I seemed to be dancing my way through most of the four miles to town.

I started cussing the rocks. First in my head and then under my breath and then out loud and then louder and then I just stopped walking and cussed as loud as I could at the top of my voice for the universe to hear. It didn’t change a damn thing. The trail was still rocky. My feet hurt worse than ever. Town was still miles away. But I had made my feelings about the situation clear!

I took a small sip of my water (trust me how much water I had was on my mind with every step I took). I started hiking again. About two miles later I finally saw another human, a man and his daughter geared for a weekend camping trip. My first thought was I hope they were far enough away that little girl hadn’t heard my cussing fit. Before I could say hello, I swear to you the man’s first words to me were “How ‘bout these rocks?!?” My answer, delivered totally deadpan, “Yeah, I don’t like them.”

I started hiking again (no sip of water because I had another mile to go and I was afraid I would drink it all and might need it more later). The terrain was starting to descend down into the valley towards town. This made me happy at first because I would rather walk down hill than up in almost every situation. I knew there was a wicked (that is not eastern slang, it is a descriptor meaning bad, evil, difficult) half mile descent into town. Wicked does not begin to describe it. It was a half mile of hell: too tall crumbling steps with millions of rocks that had rolled down to rest on the steps, making them a rocky kind of slippery. Some of the stones making up the steps had broken and had ragged sharp edges. Each step was a boulder or collection of boulders making an 18-24 inch step down. Way too tall for the normal person to easily step up and jarringly painful on tired and sore feet, ankles, knees, and hips when stepping down (the designers of this portion of the trail should be sentenced to running up and down it until they receive the natural consequences of their own damn design, for sure a broken bone, probably a broken neck). The impact of landing on each step (which was really just a controlled fall) was almost excruciating. I looked for a way around – just more boulders at all kinds of crazy angles. Nope.

I continue hiking. Dreading every step. The further I got down, the worse condition the steps are, with more crumbled, stones fallen away, and sharp ragged edges. I’m guessing the lower stones get used more as people think they will hike up and then decide Oh Hell No and turn around and go somewhere else. Athis point I am promising myself a steak dinner when I get down, a burger is not enough of a reward! When I get to the last section of the stairs, I can see town. It looks so inviting and level. The stairs have deteriorated to the point that they are just sharp rocks sticking out of the mountain and next to them is a very, very steep and narrow path where people have clearly tried to go around the steps. I’m thinking I could just take my pack off my back, hold it in my lap, and just slide on my butt into town. I decide that while slower, it is ultimately safer to stay on my feet and slowly inch my way down. Once again using Murphy’s law reasoning here, I would not end up sliding down cleanly, but would only end up with a stone slicing off half a butt cheek.

I keep *$&!* hiking. I made it to the train depot at 7pm. Where I immediately guzzled the half cup of water I had left, nectar of the gods! The stairs alone took me an hour and I am the most tired I have ever been on this trail, but I have also hiked my first 18 mile day! I have another half a mile to walk to the only open restaurant where I rewarded myself with the promised steak dinner. lots of water, and yes an alcoholic beverage!

Note: to anyone who actually read this entire thing, you are a good friend or family member and I love you for reading me whine.