“The Flute Song” has been playing in my head on repeat lately (thanks, Stealth). Go listen to it, and then come back and read the rest of this blog post… Or listen to it while you read. It’ll put you in the same light, joyful mood I’ve been feeling as we’ve hiked through Maryland and Pennsylvania.
After a quick trip to DC, we passed through Harper’s Ferry and straight into Maryland. After being in Virginia for so long, it’s weird to have gone through two new states between blinks of a eye.
The other weird thing? How low the elevation is. At one point we passed over a mountain (next to a highway, of course) that was only 1,200 feet tall. At one point (a mere three months ago), a climb like that would have been rough. Now, I laughed, muscles shooting me up the gentle switchbacks before I could register it was there.
Maryland had great shelters, easy trails, and suddenly, just like West Virginia, was over before we knew it.
We are now officially in the north half of the trail!
From the very first step on trail, everyone warns you about Pennsylvania. “Rocksylvania,” they cry. “Rocksylvania will make you hate your life. Rocksylvania will try to break your ankles. Rocksylvania and then the Whites and then maybe you’ll still be alive for Maine.”
I’ve done my best to try to weed out these thoughts from my head, trying to prevent dread of a certain section from clouding my own experiences there. I’ve already had sections with the difficulty overhyped or the ease bragged about until I’ve learned this lesson: Everyone is scared of what they haven’t done yet, that incline, that rock scramble, that technical descent. Their fear will become your fear if you don’t watch out. But everyone experiences the trail differently. Sections I’ve loved Stealth or Church Mouse has hated. Sections that Church Mouse has loved has been miserable for me. Stealth’s skills are different than mine; mine are different from his. And it’s okay.
Even knowing that, the sheer number of people who’ve warned us about PA had gotten into my head a bit. The only ones who’ve loved PA so far were Zen and Solar, two 2022 thru hikers we met in Virginia who were doing a fun section hike back to Damascus for Trail Days. As we crossed the line into this new state, I felt a little jolt of nervousness. Where are the rocks?
The thing no one tells you about PA: The first part of it is amazing. After the large, frequent climbs and descents of the first half of the trail (3,000-4,000 ft of ascent and descent was a normal day), Pennsylvania stretched out before us like the calm mountain pond.
Unlike previously, where we’d been out-hiking spring, we’re now continually hiking into spring. Mountain laurels are blooming around us again, Dame’s Rockets sprouting on either side. The grass is thick and green, and the winter wheat in the farm valleys sways in the breeze.
Still listening to The Flute Song?
Yeah, me too. Headphones in, skipping, pack light as the trail takes us through a town almost every day, drinking in the beauty of Michaux State Forest and the Cumberland Valley.
At Pine Grove Furnace State Park (or rather Green Mountain deli, since the general store was closed on Mondays), Stealth and I sat down for the half gallon challenge and ate a full half-gallon of ice cream. In case you’re wondering, that’s 11 servings of ice cream.
I wasn’t fast by any means and I may have developed a new hatred for ice cream that will last a little bit, but I did manage to eat it all. And that afternoon, my aunt and uncle picked us up, drove us to town for the evening, and fed us the famous Hot Dog Shoppe hot dogs. It was the first time in a long while where we all felt full, actually full.
And no. I haven’t eaten any ice cream since then. Maybe in a month or so.
The rocky part of Pennsylvania is still coming, as are the Whites and the Presidentials. But we had a good breather here, The Flute Song is still playing, and I think we’re gonna be ready for it. Flatsylvania, you’ve been amazing. Rocksylvania, here we come.
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