Project Eveningland

6/29/2023 Thursday

I’ve been studying up on the miles ahead and things look saner than they’ve been. I’ve been wanting to speculate on the linguistic and psychological aspects of “Rocksylvania” but thought it best to wait until the end.

So here’s my speculation: the rocks aren’t especially bad. The greased-giant-cornflake stuff was horrendous, but it didn’t last that long and you can find that stuff in any state. Most of the rocks here are unremarkable. So why the special name? It’s the quantity of rocks and the fact that there’s nothing but empty dry ridge in northern PA. There’s this mental point I reached a few times where I’d have been walking on rocks for miles but all of a sudden I really noticed. Isn’t this going to end? When will this end? Why hasn’t it ended?! Other states I’ve done just aren’t rocky for long enough to get you there very often.

In other news, the “oh just you wait” discourse has started up again lately but it’s not too bad. People lurv to remind hikers how much harder than PA the final states are. Fine. Though, the way I figure it, three times up and down the Trough on the way up to Longs Peak means that I’m not doing anything I haven’t done elsewhere. I’ve never hiked in NH or Maine, but I’m sure of this: no part of either state will require me to stop every three steps to catch my breath while scrambling up a couloir at 12K feet.

The Deer Head Inn is a wonderful place. One can feel that it has sheltered all manner of great musicians (and probably other kinds of artists too) in its long history. And the bathroom attached to my little room has been recently renovated. And the tiny chugging AC made easy work of the balmy, hazy morning.

I walked down to a pair of dueling gas stations (one on each side of the road just above a massive interchange). I liked the one with all the old women working there. Much cleaner. Got some snacks and drinks and then stopped at a bakery for an early lunch. Question for world travelers: do girls in other Western countries dress in tight spandex short shorts on the job when they are 15 or is that just an American thing?

I horfed down my lunch and fell asleep for an hour or two. I don’t think it was such a bad idea to take today off. That 16 miles or so of nonstop rocks yesterday left my ankles quite aggrieved. I caught them taking down the names of personal injury lawyers when I was standing near a bus stop.

The wraparound front porch of the Deer Head Inn is an oasis of genteel, old-fashioned calm. It has a southern feel, but since it’s a jazz club, and not an old plantation house, I feel less conflicted about romanticizing it. I’m sitting there writing right now.

People talk about “being mad” at PA for the rocks. Or not being mad. I get it. PA, though, was where I learned to love backpacking, so I’ll always be just a bit sad to leave it. I sat on the porch of the Deer Head for a while and dwelled on old memories of the trail in PA. Rushing out of work on a Friday afternoon (when I lived in PA), in a hurry to meet my friends for a hastily assembled weekend trip. Walking into Ohiopyle with my pack on after a five day 70 mile trip feeling like a conquering hero. Or, more recently, crapping in a hastily dug hole in the rain. Good times had by all in PA!

After my rich lunch, I decided to stay in and eat peanut butter crackers and other snacks for dinner. Ben and I spent a nice afternoon on the phone hanging out. I’m might try to get tons of sleep and a relatively early start tomorrow.