1056.7 miles.
Well, that hostel on the other side of Harpers Ferry where we intended to stay a few nights back was lacking a sign, and we didn't figure out we'd passed it until we were two miles too far along. It was nearly eight at night at that point, foggy, and three steep miles to the next shelter, but we pressed on, sad and tired and ever so gross from wearing clothes that had been rained on four days straight. It was our first night hike since March when we headed up Springer Mountain, the AT's starting point in Georgia under the full moon. No full moon this time, and the fog made our headlamps useless, so we stumbled along in the dark over the rocky, muddy trail. And as it was just getting pitch black we arrived at the shelter, which was chock full, but everyone scooted together to make room for the two late comers. That's how it goes out here. We help each other out, we always greet people we pass, because a little kindness goes a long way.
We spent just two days hiking through Maryland. About forty miles of trail pass through there, and this evening we crossed into Pennsylvania, the seventh state along the trail, and the one where I was born. So far it's got lots of trees and hills and rocks and someone's firing their gun not too far from where we're sleeping. Not so different from the other side of the Mason Dixon line.
We've done a few twenty mile days this week and we're feeling good, walking fast, sleeping hard. I love this life. So simple and rewarding.
Two young amish girls and their grandma stopped to talk to us as we passed through a park today. They were curious about what we eat and where we sleep and how far we go everyday and what we do when it rains. We chatted for a while, and I showed them our gear and said that they should think about hiking the trail one day. The look in their eyes reminded me, as I'm reminded every day out here, of what an amazing time in our lives this is.
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