So excited to say that I am back hiking! I got dropped off in the morning in Port Clinton. I had a 15 mile stretch to fill in and then I skip to the Lookout Hostel where I actually left the trail 3 weeks ago to head home.

The weather was beautiful. It rained last night so the temperatures dropped. The AT is called the Green Tunnel because 99% of it is done through the forest and in the shade so that also makes summer hiking very doable.

I started with 1000 foot gain in altitude over about 2 miles. A good way to get the heart going in the morning. It felt wonderful to be back on trail. After three weeks off the trail, I know it will take some time to get my trail legs back, but I’m starting stronger, with a lighter pack, and with more knowledge about my gear and the trail than when I started the first time. So I was optimistic.

I was quickly passed on the trail by 4 women in their 60’s. I was however standing on the side of the trail talking to my brother on the phone, “Start hiking I want to hear you huff and puff!” I hated to disappoint him but it is dangerous to do anything but hike while on the trail in Pennsylvania.

I caught up to the women and everyone introduced themselves BAM (short for Bad Ass Mee-maw ; I like this and may steal it for my grandma name lol), Navajo Jo, Gadget Girl, and Bunny. They are amazing women. They started in Georgia in March and are hoping to finish in Maine by early September. They did not start out together, but partnered up along the trail. I talked to Navajo Jo the most while we hiked. She is 60 and decided to hike the trail after breaking her ankle and bones in both feet. She said she could do nothing but sit for months and she vowed that when she could walk again, she was going to see how far on the Appalachian Trail she could make it. She finished the day at mile marker 1235 and will hike again tomorrow. They are slacking packing the rest of the way out of Pennsylvania and invited me to join them. I’m considering it.

I didn’t say yes right away because I am committed to two nights at the Lookout Hostel. I’m planning to slack pack from there and I’m waiting on a package to be delivered on Saturday (I forgot my bug head net).

I hiked along happily talking to Navajo Jo most of the morning. The five of us had a mid morning snack together and exchanged phone numbers to stay in touch and then started off again. As the trail gets steeper, there is more distance between hikers and less talking. Eventually it was just me hiking alone.

So as I have written here many times. Pennsylvania trails are just multiple variations of rocky (see pics above). Today I was walking on a slightly less rocky section but all of the rocks were loose, meaning when you step on them they move and roll under your feet – ankle breakers is what I call them. I stepped on a rock; it started to roll under my foot; I started doing the I’m-going-to-fall-down-dance (you know the one where you can feel yourself falling but you wave your arms wildly, working like a demon to keep your balance); that rock rolled for about a foot down the the trail me dancing on top of it. It finally stopped rolling and I managed to not fall down. Unfortunately in the process I managed to wrench my left knee. It hurt like a @!$&&@! I think it would have hurt less if I had just fallen down. I also tweaked my Achilles tendon (yes the one that was already torn).

After I quit cussing/moaning/crying, I started trying to decide what to do. Once again there were no big burly (preferably handsome) firemen with a palanquin to carry me the rest of the way down the mountain (they are never around when you truly need them), so I assessed my options: 1) I could go back a few miles to the nearest shelter (knee jerk reaction – no way in hell I’m going backwards; whiny answer – I don’t want to walk it hurts! Rational answer – going backwards isn’t helpful just means you have further to walk out later). 2) I could keep going (knee jerk reaction – please don’t make me; whiny answer – I don’t want to it hurts when I walk; rational answer – what else are you going to do, there is no one here to carry you out). 3) I could just stay here until someone else comes along to solve this problem (knee jerk reaction – let’s do that! Whiny answer – as long as I don’t have to walk; rational answer – that isn’t really a solution for more than 5 minutes).

What I actually did: I hobbled (truly) over to the side of the trail and sat down on a rock (they are freaking everywhere in Pennsylvania!). I took out one of my prescription sized ibuprofen and swallowed it (seriously considered taking two, but was a little worried that might make my kidneys hurt more than my knee) and massaged my knee and waited for the meds to kick in. Unfortunately while I was waiting not a single hiker passed me. Not one big enough to carry me down the mountain. Not one to listen to me whine. Not one to commiserate with me. Not one! It isn’t that unusual to go 20 minutes without seeing a hiker, but at that moment, I really wanted some sympathy! So I sat for about 10 minutes (not long enough for the medicine to kick in, but long enough to get over the initial shock of the pain).

I rationally (what else could I do) decided to get up and start walking again. It was then I realized my left Achilles tendon, the outside of my left knee and some muscle up the outside of my left thigh HURT LIKE HOLY HELL! In my head I could hear every coach and PE teacher I ever had say, “Walk it off. You can do it, just walk it off.” again, what else could I do. So I started walking. Sorta. It was really this weird zombie shuffle. Then it changed into this weird little quick step (trying to put as little weight as possible for as short a time as possible on my left leg). Eventually the drugs kicked in and it changed into a slow semblance of my normal hiking step with the occasional limp or hobble thrown in if I came down too hard on my left foot or had to lift it too high or caught it on a rock, etc. there were also some sound effects for my new gait, a combination of cussing and moaning.

I think I have written before about learning to manage my water. Basically learning to carry exactly the amount of water you need until the next watering spot. This means you carry less weight, but risk running out of water. Well I was doing that. (Don’t worry this turns out fine). I planned to fill my water bottle at a piped spring about 12 miles into my 15 mile hike. Usually I don’t drink the last bit of water until I get where I can refill, but about mile 11 I drank the last of my water (I think I needed it because I could feel my knee swelling). I did this after checking my hiking app where someone yesterday said there was good flow at the spring and it rained most of the night. So I rationalized my decision to drink the last of my water. It was a good and bad decision. Good because my body needed the water. Bad because my brain immediately started shouting “We are out of water! Don’t panic, we will get water soon! I repeat, Don’t panic, we will get water soon but we are out for now!” I walked the mile to the spring with a running dialogue in my head:

Panic voice: we are injured and out of water!

Soothing mom voice: it will be fine. There is water in 20 minutes.

Bratty, whiny voice: my leg hurts!

Panic: what if there is no water! What if the spring is dry!

Brat: I want water and my leg really hurts!

Mom voice: you will get water soon (mom side thought – I should have taken that second pill, maybe it would have shut them up!)

[Side note: I read somewhere that only 30-50% of people have an inner monologue. For those of you who don’t have an inner monologue (is it a monologue or a dialogue because for me it at least there seems to be lots more than one voice trapped inside my head), what on earth do you do for entertainment? How do you reason things out? How do you debate the morality of every decision you make? How do you decide whether or not to put bacon on your burger?]

With all the noise in my head and the meds kicking in, I managed to make it to the spring (flowing very nicely). I drank an entire liter bottle of water (camel up!) and then filled it again for the next three miles.

About the time I reached the spring. I met Paulie Llama and Sir John. They are both from Hawaii. Paulie Llama is a retired medical equipment salesman and Sir John owns a construction company and is taking a vacation to do a long hike with his best friend. They slowed to my pace and we talked the last three miles to the road and to the shelter where they stayed. They are hiking in to the Lookout where I am staying tomorrow. There is a restaurant and bar directly on the trail right before you get to the hostel, they were thrilled to hear about it and are planning dinner there. I was invited ti join them and I might. There aren’t very many nice restaurants directly in the trail!

To end the day, my shuttle driver picked me up and drove me to the hostel (I have already hiked the 12 miles to the hostel read Day XX NoBo). I hobbled inside, drank a Mountain Dew and ate a Payday took more meds and hobbled downstairs to the shower and bed!

Oh I forgot to tell y’all that I forgot the magical deodorant that makes my stench bearable (Alisha sent me some and it’s one of the packages I am waiting on) and during the ride to the hostel, the shuttle driver first drove with the windows down, but when we got on the highway and he had to roll them up, he reached under his seat and handed me a bottle of body spray and said “I am so sorry, but do you mind spraying some of this on yourself.” I laughed so hard I almost chocked on some of his coconut vanilla body spray, which I did spray on my shirt. In my opinion it just made things (me) smell worse, but it seemed to help him. He was mortified that I found it so hilarious and kept reassuring me that I was not the stinkiest hiker he had ever given a ride (that honor belongs to some guy who managed to make a convertible with the top down stink so bad that the upholstery had to be cleaned). I was laughing too hard to tell him that I was thinking if he had to point out that I wasn’t the stinkiest hiker, I must at least be in competition for it or he wouldn’t have said it. I was also laughing to hard to tell him that to me the smell is still the worse part of hiking and not to worry about offending me because I understood.