Project Eveningland

6/5/2023 Monday

I burned my mouth on some peach oatmeal this morning. After breakfast—or before, I can’t remember—I grabbed a rare morning shower. Rev told us that the tread was indeed favorable between here and Duncannon.

My stay at the Pentecostal hostel did awaken me to two values I share with Christians more broadly: the sacredness of rest, and the importance of hospitality.

The trail away from town paralleled the road for a mile or so but on an avenue of grass with flowers and cool breezes (not withstanding the traffic noise). We—Bodie and me—passed through a peaceful, shaded park and then began a steep rocky ascent that was to be the hardest part of the day. But it’s only 1000 feet and it was over in no time.

I’m trying something new with my ankles today. I’m wearing two support wraps. What’s new is wearing them on both feet. It wrought a surprising mental change. Putting the wraps on both feet makes the things feel less a burden, less a bandage, and more just support. Also having a support on both feet allows the right foot to model normal gait for the left foot. It’s temporary—the need should lessen with new shoes.

We leapfrogged with quite a few folks today. At least two European guys. Also a woman named Emily who’s trying out trail names and hasn’t decided.

We stopped at an old cabin by a stream. It had this wonderful rock chimney which separated from the house for a part of the second floor to make room for an attic vent. The cabin is all closed up but we sat on the porch. “I believe I would like to sit a spell,” I thought. I’ve been eating rice cakes to keep my stomach calm. I mix them in with meals and snacks. They are impractical (bulky) but otherwise a welcome addition.

The trail entered a series of pine forests, and the hot midday air carried a dry, fresh piney smell as a result. It seemed to me a Colorado breeze—a welcome smell of the trails back home.

We reached the 1100 mile marker. I’m taking it as the halfway mark, since there is only a sign for the 2022 halfway mark. It changes every year.

I felt contemplative all day, and not particularly social. It’s been 111 days. I don’t know if that means the second half will take the same time. Maybe! But it is a whole other feeling, being in the back half. I sometimes feel I am “waiting out” the trail. It’ll be over, smooth journey or no. Sometimes I fantasize about a bed with clean white linens next to an open window with a billowing curtain. It is a fantasy about rest—real rest.

The tread was so gentle that we made it all the way to Toms Run shelter area. It’s got tent pads and tons of room. There’re Adirondack chairs around the fire pit and another one of those excellent covered picnic tables. An old chimney and fireplace stands alone at the edge, near a tiny stream.

I am just totally beat. I’m glad to have snuck in 16 miles. I’d like to get to Duncannon in time for my friend Neil to meet me there. The rockier stuff is coming soon. The dual-ankle-support strategy may help take some of the strain off through this section.