5-23-76, Appalachian Trail Thru-hike, Duncannon to Port Clinton

This is the seventh of my series of 2025/2026 transcriptions of my journal from my 1976 Appalachian Trail Thru-hike. The journal was compiled from my original trip notes after my finish of the AT in August, and before my heading to college in September. An introduction to this trip is stored at: AT Intro. Photos are scans of my original prints. (My post 1976 comments are in parentheses.) 

May 23, Duncannon, PA, 0 miles

I learned a good lesson today, never take a day off by yourself. Without any company, I quickly got bored. I wasn’t due to reach Port Clinton (From where I would return home to RI for my high school graduation and a week with my family.) until May 27, so if I had hiked any more from Duncannon, I just would have been stuck in Port Clinton for an extra day. Since I hadn’t had a day off since Pearisburg, this seemed the right way to spend my day. I spent most of my time watching sports on TV and playing pool by myself at the fire station. I also did my chores, washing clothes and buying groceries. Two of the firemen stopped by during the day, but the station was otherwise deserted.

About 9 o’clock I got a huge surprise, who walks in but Eric Heinrich. I could hardly believe it. His story was almost more surprising than his appearance. Eric had teamed up with fast Dan Armstrong to hike through the Shenandoah. But soon they both got mentally down and started to think about quitting. They had made good mileage through the Shenandoah, but not the 25 miles per day that Eric had planned for. When they reached Linden, VA they both decided to hitchhike to Delaware Water Gap, PA where Dan had a supply package waiting. From the Water Gap, Dan decided to quit, and Eric decided to hike south back to Linden. Eric wanted to do the reverse route to meet all the hikers ahead of him that he and I had chased all spring. Eric had met Ran on the trail and decided to pull a marathon day to catch up and surprise me. Eric made the miles and I was surprised.

Eric had decided to drop his 25 mile per day plan. In terms of miles covered I was a few days ahead of him, so I thought I might be able to catch back up with him, after my trip home. I had planned a short day the next day, so we went to bed after playing pool. I suspected Eric had been practicing, as he was still much better than I was.

May 24, Peters Mountain Shelter, 6.0 miles

This was a day of indecision. I couldn’t decide whether to spend the entire day in Duncannon with Eric and hike 25 miles the next day, or to leave and put in a six miler. Eventually by putting my decision off as long as possible, I compromised with a late start.

Meanwhile, there was another reunion of sorts at the hostel. Two friends of Eric’s, Linc and Cath, pulled in. They had started a southbound thru hike at Katahdin last spring and were taking their time heading south. They had just finished their winter break, and Eric had hiked past them while trying to catch up to me. Both of them were really great. The firehouse wasn’t quite so dismal with other people around. Linc, Cath, and Eric told me stories of the hikers they had met the year before. Malcolm Gillis, and other 1975 thru-hiker, had sent Eric a list of all the 1975 through hikers. This was the planning sheet for a reunion which would eventually take place that July in Harpers Ferry.

Eventually, I managed to get my pack ready to move along. I expected to see Eric somewhere north of Delaware Water Gap, so off I went. I had heard that Duncannon was the largest town that the AT went directly through. Somehow, it seemed even longer as I headed out. I crossed the Susquehanna, and so was on my way back to the mountains. I was planning to spend the night at Shaeffer Shelter but ended up at Peters Mountain. Some guys at Shaeffer Shelter advised me to move along to Peters. Neither shelter had water, and Shaeffer was a dump, while Peters Mountain had a beautiful view and was practically brand new.

One of the guys at Shaffer was Rick and I ended up hiking with him to Port Clinton. Peters Mountain did not have a register, so I left one (I did not get this one back). As it turned out all the other shelters on the way to Port Clinton already had registers, so my register wasn’t filling any great need.

May 25, Rausch Gap Shelter, 19.4 miles

The Rausch Gap Shelter is probably the nicest one along the trail. It is known by several names including the Taj Mahal, and the Rausch Gap Hilton. Fortunately, it hadn’t developed a wider reputation outside the AT community, and that’s likely part of why it was such good shape. Even hearing of the shelter before arriving, I was unprepared for what I saw.

The shelter is built into a depression which helps to form the back wall. It has a huge sleeping platform. The roof included a section of plastic which functions as a skylight, bright enough for reading. The edge of the depression in front of the shelter is formed by a stone wall. Water comes out of a pipe at one end of the wall. There’s also a spout for washing dishes. Between the shelter and the wall is a huge tree which supports a round table. Placed around the table are a few chairs. The latrine even had two seats. I hope the shelter remains little known and is able continue unspoiled.

Rausch Gap was also the end of a long, boring day of hiking. It was more of the usual Pennsylvania ridge walking with no views and a lot of rocks. It is primarily the trail north of Duncannon that gives PA its reputation for turning feet into putty. One fellow hiker didn’t mind the rocks. Two of the guys who had been staying at Peters Mountain had a dog named Bubba who managed to cover about twice the ground the hikers did.

One thing I noticed on the trail was a birch tree. Living in New England I’m used to seeing a lot of birches, but they are not common in the south or even MD or VA. It’s funny how you don’t miss something until it is gone, as much as you do when it is rare.

Through hikers, in contrast, were becoming more common. The legendary hiking pair of Rick Willard and Frank Jurkowski were just one day ahead of me. I hoped to meet up with them by Port Clinton. Since my graduation break would start in Port Clinton, I doubted I had a shot at seeing them further along the trail.

I was really looking forward to my break, not only to see everyone at home, but as a break from the trail. At Rausch Gap I discovered another need for a quick vacation. My 19 miles on the PA rocks had split open a seam on my right boot. My legs were also sore for the first time in a long while. The soreness I was likely to overcome, but the rip in my boot would only get worse.

May 26, Pine Grove, PA, 16.0 miles

Of my 140 days on the trail, this day would be the example of the ups and downs of thru-hiking. It rained all night and the morning sky was dark, cloudy, and showed no signs of clearing up. My journal described it as “Blah and ick, in general.”

A new relocation made it easier to reach Krieslers Store, formerly Lausch’s, in a little over an hour. We still had to wait 90 minutes for the store to open, but the chance for some junk food was worth it. I also passed by the Mountain View Hotel, which looked like a total dump. I was glad I hadn’t planned to end the first half of my hike there.

Once we passed Swatra Gap, the rain was coming down hard. The trail was extra rocky. My feet started to hurt and I also got chilled. I had been planning to go all the way to Herlien Campsite for the night, but as the day wore on a cold, wet bivi seemed less and less inviting. Rick wasn’t enjoying himself either, so we decided to hitchhike into Port Clinton from Rt 645.

From the trail crossing it took an hour to get a ride to Pine Grove, PA. But getting out of Pine Grove proved tougher. A man and his wife out looking for their dog showed us a better was to get to Port Clinton, so we set ourselves at the junction, trying to catch a ride either way. Lucky for us, the family returned, dog and all, and offered to take us to town and as it was getting late enough that they doubted we’d get a ride.

About halfway to Port Clinton, they offered to let us spend the night at their home. I could hardly believe it, it was so nice of them to take us in. We were wet, cold, probably smelled, and they didn’t know either of us. Rev Evans was the Methodist minister in Pine Grove and his wife taught at the elementary school. They also owned land that the AT passed over. I was glad to hear they were enthusiastic about hikers and were against trail bikes. I told them a lot about the AT Conference and tried to build up the reputation of hikers in general. If every landowner along the trail was like the Evans the trail would be in safe hands.

The Evans offered us their shower and dinner. Feeling a little guilty about imposing, Rick and I cooked over our stoves. We slept in the basement of their church. I could not thank them enough. I’d often heard of hikers being invited into private homes but had never thought that it would happen to me.

May 27, Port Clinton, PA Hostel, 22.2 miles

Rev. Evans dropped Rick and I off on the trail at 8:30. People like the Evans are one of the greatest attractions of the trail. It’s rare to meet others like them. Anyone who hikes the trail without stopping to meet the locals misses one of the best parts of the hike.

The Evans family might have been nice to us, but their land was as rocky as the rest of PA. The first four miles were tough going. After that the hiking was easier. First, we passed by Pilger Rock Spring (Pilgrims Rest). Unfortunately, the spring was polluted, maybe because there was easy road access to it. Herlton Campsite wasn’t much, but at least it had good water. We had super views from the Kestral. We also passed a marker for Fort Dietrick Snyder.

Rick at fort Dietrick Snyder.

The last six miles leading to Neys Shelter was a long dirt road. I had expected to make good time, but wasn’t prepared for what I saw. The road was perfectly straight and flat for 6 miles. Rick and I got set for some fast walking. The road reminded me of the track at school. We covered 6.1 miles in 1:45, a fast pace for me with a full pack.

Neys Shelter was well equipped. It had a swap shelf for unwanted goods, extra food, a small cabinet with a register, a deck of cards, and some classic back issues of Readers Digest. The register had an entry from Branley Owens Ga to Me ’69 only a few days before. Also, Rick Willard and Frank Jurkowski wrote that they were planning to go beyond Port Clinton, so I would not likely catch up to them.

The guidebook indicted that the last seven miles to Port Clinton were rough. Since I expected the worst, the trail turned out to be pretty nice. I was used to spending my late afternoons at the shelters, and at least the last stretch was a change of pace. The only rough part of the hike was the last mile of descent down to Port Clinton. After asking directions, I was able to find my way to a pavilion left open to hikers by a local church.

Rick had stayed at Neys Shelter, so I expected to have the Pavilion to myself. But there were four other hikers there. Rick Willard and Frank Jurkowski had decided to spend the night in town, so I finally got to meet them. Toby and Pete were two seniors from St. Georges, another prep school in RI, who had picked the AT in PA as their senior project. They were glad to have the worst part of the AT out of the way. Both groups were friendly and made me feel welcome with a cold can of beer. Rick and Frank were two of the “early group” of thru-hikers who were taking their time on the trail. Frank was a diabetic. That made things tough for him on the trail, but he had only had to stop one time.

This was a 22-mile day for me (with a long trip home to come), so I went to bed early.

May 28 through June 4, Off the trail and home for high school graduation

This was my long-awaited graduation break. When my high school had given me permission to take the trimester off there had been only one condition: that I would return in June to graduate. My parents had already told me that I needed to attend, so I didn’t have much choice.

But now I was really looking forward to going home (even including summer camp, I’d never been away from home for this long before). Pennsylvania is the low point of the trail, and the hiking had gotten a bit boring. As I later found out, lots of other hikers ended up taking breaks in PA. For the through hikers from the northeast, this is the first time they’d gotten close enough to home to make a visit practical.

I had no trouble hitchhiking from Port Clinton to the airport in Reading (this was long before the TSA era). I was glad to have showered only two days before, or I likely would have gotten more stares than I did. It was a short flight to Philly, another short flight to Providence, and then I was home.

I had a few adjustments to make at home, the first was learning to sleep on a soft bed. I soon adjusted and began sleeping well into the afternoon (as any good teenager should). It was also nice to eat without having to carry my food around with me all the time.

While at home I did a major reorganization of my trip. I rearranged my food drops to be 5-7 days apart so I wouldn’t have to carry so much food. I would also receive smaller boxes containing only the freeze-dried dinners and other food that I had already bought. I had learned that resupply via the local grocery stores was the most efficient supply system. I also cleaned my pack, and got a new pin to replace the one that had popped off in VA.

Cleaning my sleeping bag was a fiasco. None of the laundromats in town would wash it. One morning my mom stopped by my room while I was sleeping and told me she planned to wash my bag. I grunted and rolled over. My mom put the bag in the washing machine. (Down sleeping bags have sewn in compartments to distribute the down throughout the bag and these baffles were easily torn out by clumps of wet down being churned in the washer.) Fortunately, only 4-5 baffles ripped out. Since the rest of my trip would be in mid-summer, I decided the bag would be all right and it performed well the rest of the trip. (I’d continue to use the same bag through grad school and until I moved to Montana where a steady job allowed me to buy a new bag with artificial insulation).

Getting new boots also proved a hassle. I could only find one decent pair and even those were just slightly too snug. While trying to break them in, I decided that they were too small. Because of a small scuff on one shoe the store would not take them back. I ended up wearing my old ones for another 500 miles (into Vermont?)

The last disaster was my food packages. I had them all spread out on my bedroom floor when some animal) came into the house and ripped open the packages. I guess the culprit didn’t go for instant oatmeal or freeze-dried Cheese Romanoff, but who does? I just had to rearrange my packages a little. (My Mom told this story as the culprit being the neighbor’s dog, and that this incident happened while I was on the trail.)

Even at home I managed to meet another through hiker. Hope Mauran was a senior at my sister’s school, and she also came home from the trail for graduation. I saw the slide show she had prepared for school, which was quite good. Hope’s (3?) friends were still hiking and she would join them on the trail north of Port Clinton. I never saw her group of girls on the trail, but several times I was just behind them.

(I wish now that I’d kept better notes on my stay at home, and the logistics of getting home and back, but my AT journal was tightly focused on the trail.) After graduating on June 2, and finishing my errands, I was ready to get back on the trail on June 5.

5-13-1976, Appalachian Trail Thru-hike, Front Royal VA to Duncannon PA

This is the sixth of my series of 2025 transcriptions of my journal from my 1976 Appalachian Trail Thru-hike. The journal was compiled from my original trip notes between the finish of the AT in August, and my heading to college in September. An introduction to this trip is stored at: AT Intro. Photos are scans of my original prints. (Post 1976 comments are in parentheses.)

The Trail guide for northern VA and southern PA.

May 13, Route 601 CS, 22.4 miles

I thought my motel room in Front Royal was a bit shabby. For breakfast I devoured an entire Tip Top breakfast pastry. I’d scavenged through my pack, designated some (unnamed) items in my return home box, and dropped the box off at the post office.

The thirteenth brought bad luck. Being my usual stupid self, I couldn’t find my way out of town (Where were those blazes when I needed them?). After five minutes of hitch hiking in the wrong direction, I got my bearings right and soon caught a ride going the correct way. When I reached the trail, it was part of a relocation, which still left a mile or two to Mosby Shelter.

At Mosby Shelter I stopped to eat and read the register. The register warned of a 25-mile section of road walking ahead. This was to be the first long section of road walking on the trail (Not sure if this was the first for me, or for the entire trail). And, this was all new relocation, so I could expect to be lost much of the day.

It was very disconcerting when I happened to be following the guidebook all day (and nothing matched up with what was on the ground). What I followed was irregularly blazed, and in many cases the blazes were painted over. I assumed I had missed the new route, and was now following the old route. There were several times when I was thoroughly lost and then was shocked and saved by an old blaze. As the day wore on my paranoia increased, and for much of the time I hardly knew what state I was in. Jokingly, I was hoping to get arrested for trespassing so I would know where I was.

When I reached Ashby Gap, I realized I had been on the right route after all. Where the trail crossed the highway was a tourist trap/junk shop. I bought a coke and a candy bar from the lady at the counter. After Ashby Gap there was eleven miles of pure, unrelenting asphalt.

The trail along Route 601 was well blazed, Good blazing on a relocation took some getting used to. I was distracted by a myriad of signs along the road. “No Hunting” and “No Fishing” were the most common, but “No Trespassing” was also common. At times I felt like I was walking through a long corridor of signs, each one glaring at me from the side. The hard pavement was pounding my feet, and I was a lot more tired than the terrain should have allowed. But I guess the road just weighed on me. I had long ago decided that the trail was more of a mental challenge, and the key was to keep your spirits up. One sign reading “No Anything” was enough to cheer me up.

About 7:30 I realized I’d need to bivouac along the road. I looked for an area with less frequent ”No Trespassing” signs, and set up my tent in the woods. I ate dinner in about ten minutes and was soon safe in my sleeping bag for the night. I walked about 22 miles.

Relocation sign.

May 14, Wilson Gap Shelter, 17.9 miles

I woke up to the sound of cars zipping down the road. Especially in its center, the AT is no wilderness trail. Except for a few spots, roads are never far away. I ate breakfast (a few handfuls of Frosted Flakes) and broke camp quickly as I worried about being caught trespassing.

It took a while to get motivated for the road walking. I felt out of place as people drove by me on their way to work, This area seemed a bit like home, except there were a few too many swimming pools. I hoped to get invited in for a swim, but was not surprised when no one did. My big excitement of the morning was passing a restricted area on Mount Weather, which is rumored to be a CIA facility.

Walking on the road I too often focused on how far I had left to go. Tromp, tromp, tromp, dull, boring, bugs, I wonder how far it is to the dirt road. But finally, I left the cursed pavement for natural ground. To celebrate I took a quick gorp break, and to my surprise another hiker came along. I figured he had to be a thru-hiker, no one else would have chosen this trail to hike, and no one else would have been able to catch up with me.

The hiker was Ran Glennon, a thru-hiker from Boston. I had heard a lot about Fast Dan Armstrong, but Ran had not seen Dan or Eric either. I’d been expecting Eric to catch me over the last week, but had seen no sign of him. I still couldn’t figure out what happened to him. Ran’s hiking mileage put me to shame. He had hiked until one in the morning last night and had camped near Mount Weather.

Ran also proved to be really fast, dropping me quickly on the way to Wilson Gap Shelter. He may have been the fastest hiker I’d meet on the trail. He was doing yoga when I reached the shelter. I ate lunch and soon he was off to visit Harpers Ferry. He was the first guy to catch up with me on the trail, and I figured I’d never see him again.

Wilson Gap turned out to be a popular place. There were seven other people there that night. A group of three guys fed me some scraps of steak. I felt a bit like an animal from the zoo, but I loved the steak.

Ran Glennon, Wilson Gap Shelter.

May 15, Weverton Campsite, 17.1 miles

This was one of my lazier days on the trail. Since my body had recovered from the pavement of northern Virginia and the speed of the Shenandoah, I was able to make good time and take the afternoon off. The day started cloudy and foggy while the sky went through it’s just about to rain routine. But by the time I had reached Keyes Gap it had started to clear and looked like it might be a nice day after all.

Keyes Gap Shelter was a bad omen of things to come. In northern Virginia, Maryland, and southern Pennsylvania the shelters are built close to the road. The local kids use them for parties, and destroy the shelters. There were three guys at Keyes Gap who were really stoned and still smoking away. I left quickly and soon passed a group of 53 people. Yes, I did count them all. Unfortunately, these were mostly 8-year-old girls with a few leaders. I hope they skipped the shelter, and the smokers.

On the way to the Potomac River, I passed some strange rock formations that the guidebook described as bunkers from the Civil War. The trail passed by a beautiful overlook above the river and Harpers Ferry. It wasn’t hard to figure out why Harpers Ferry was so vulnerable to attack from my high bluff. 

Bird above the Potomac River.

When I reached the highway leading to the river bridge, I took a wrong turn and headed toward Harpers Ferry. I didn’t realize my mistake until I reached a huge “Welcome to West Virginia” sign. Even someone like me with a bad sense of direction ought to know what state he is in. But soon I had myself straightened out and was back on Maryland soil. I had nothing personally against Virginia, but it is a hell of long state, 450 miles long and a month’s worth of walking. (Basically, the first month of the AT gets you to Virginia, and the second month gets you out of it. The next few days get you through WV and MD and into PA, so a long section with seemingly little progress leads to a flurry of new states.)

Train along the Potomac.

I had planned to stay at the hotel at Sandy Hook and met Ran there. Ran had gone into Harpers Ferry that day for supplies and to visit the ATC headquarters, but the ATC building was closed (So I skipped the visit to ATC HQ as well). But a group from Boonesboro was at the hostel and they were really nasty when we asked if there was any extra room. We sat around the hostel talking and soaking up the sun. I managed to sneak a quick shower. We stayed at the hostel as long as we could before moving down to the Weverton Hiker-Biker campsite after dinner. The campsite was very nice. It was located between the Potomac River and the C&O Canal, right on the towpath. “And right next to the railroad, I was reminded as another train went by.” 

Welcome to West Virginia.

The rain finally came later that night, but I stayed dry in my tarp, though I picked up sand from the towpath.

May 16, Rocky Run Shelter, 10.5 miles

Last night’s rain continued throughout the day. The nice hiking was along the towpath early in the morning. Ran had gotten sick during the night, so he was planning to take some more time off.

In the rain, the hike seemed dull. I had a hard time getting out of the Potomac Basin, but the rest of the hiking was level. The highlight of the day was the winner of the “Scenic lunch spots along the AT” award”. It was the men’s room in Gathland State Park. I sat there eating peanut butter sandwiches and sipping on a coke. Out of the ladies room floated some beautiful flute music. It was nice of those players to serenade a wet, cold thru-hiker. Whoever they were, and there were a lot of them, they were really good. ”It was easily better than leaning against some tree and munching away.”

I finally stopped at Rocky Run Shelter after being battered by the storm all day. This was my third short day in a row and diagnosed myself with “Rybacks Revenge”. I needed some long days to make up for it. I admired the courage, and questioned the sense, of the day hikers who had been tromping around the mountains in such lousy weather.

Rocky Run is built differently than other shelters. It has a wood bin which makes it very easy to drop things like pens, lighters, and burner plates down cracks. The bin has been converted to an in-shelter garbage pit. Also, the roof had several small leaks.

May 17, Devils Racecourse Shelter, 20.0 miles

I cured myself of my slow pace of the last few days. It was a great day for walking, and I covered 20 miles with relative ease. The trail was easy, except for a few rocky sections, and a steep climb just before the cutoff to Devils Racetrack Shelter.

I camped again with Ran. He had called home about his job and managed to get an extension that would allow him to hike to Port Clinton, before heading home to Boston (I remember having conversations with him about hiking places we both knew in NH’s White Mountains,)

I passed through George Washington Monument State Park, where the oldest monument to George Washington still stands. While I munched on some gorp two guys walked up and asked if I had seen any snakes. They were out to catch some. I didn’t wish them any luck. I’m sure a confrontation with a copperhead would have scared me to death.

Washington Monument.

I also passed by the new shelter at Hemlock Hollow. It was a small shelter built by the landowner and his family. The shelter was for backpackers only, and the owner reserved the right to toss out anyone he wanted. That seemed like a great way to keep the shelter in good shape. I was happy to see another landowner getting involved in the trail. The next day would bring me to Pennsylvania. The only thing I ever heard about PA was the rocks. I dreaded the abuse my tender feet would suffer, the stories had to be true because everyone told the same tale. And unfortunately, PA was one of those long states.

Devils Racetrack got my vote as one of the worst shelters on the AT. It was torn to pieces and sported a huge pile of garbage, mainly beer bottles, along the shelter. True to form, we were visited by some of the local kids out drinking beer. They soon got rowdy and started throwing around their empties. I was glad Ran was there, but even with the two of us, we couldn’t get them to leave. Finally, they did move along, with one girl telling them not to throw any more bottles, because she had walked up from the road in bare feet. Normally this incident wouldn’t have bothered me too much, but this group was so inconsiderate and stupid.

May 18, Raccoon Run Shelter, 18.7 miles

“Rain, Rain, Rain,” It drizzled last night, but cleared a bit in the morning. However, when I was up near Chimney Rocks and Snowy Mountain it really started to come down. The wind was blowing and it got cold. I hadn’t been making good time until then, but I practically had to run after that just to stay warm.

There wasn’t much to miss in the rain. Ran and I managed to lose the trail at Pen Mar, delaying our entrance to PA. That was about the only thing that slowed Ran down. He did more miles than I, pushing on to Caledonia State Park. I had a hard time with my right foot. It really acted up around Sanitorium Road, reducing me to a hobble. To top it off I was freezing and couldn’t go fast enough to warm up.

Raccoon Run Shelter was tiny. There are two four person shelters at the site. I shared one with another solo hiker, and we hardly had any room.  Ran had passed the place up, he seems to think that anything less than a twenty-mile day is a waste.

May 19, Toms Run Shelter, 17.4 miles

My journal describes this as one of my best days on the trail. The highlight was one of my biggest surprises on the trip. It snowed! I had some serious thoughts about my sanity when I first saw it, but the snow was real. The ridges of southern PA were some of the last places I’d expect to see snow, midway along the trail. But I suppose Mother Nature always has a few tricks left for the humble hiker. 

Snowflake on pack.

My only regret in seeing snow was that I now had lost a standing bet with Eric Heinrich. I’d thought we’d never see snow on the trip, and bet a quart of ice cream to back myself up. The bet predated the Smokies, as I figured that was our most likely place to see any snow. Eric eventually collected a pint of his winnings, but I never followed through with my threat to mail him the balance.

Ran had spent most of his night in the heated bathroom at Caledonia State Park before moving out to a pavilion for some sleep. Men’s rooms are havens for thru-hikers. I think a classic example is Steve Austin sleeping in the men’s room at Newfound Gap in the Smokies. There was a small store near the state park so we both stopped to stock up on supplies.

The hiking went by fast. I stopped at the Milesburn Cabin, and the guys that were cleaning it up let me have a look around. But after the cabin, “I had only the crazy oscillations of the weather to keep me occupied. The change from blue sky to snow and hail took only two minutes, and the temperature would change about ten degrees.”

I stopped for the day at Toms Run Shelters. Ran was there so we shared one of the small shelters. Ran was bummed out by the weather and called it a day. I had covered 17 miles and felt great. Pennsylvania seemed better than advertised. But Ran was planning to push to reach Port Clinton and head home. But he had been pushing the pace since I’d mt him, and it was only illness, uncertainty about his job, and the weather which slowed him down.

May 20, Dogwood Run Bivi, 19.6 miles

I started my day with a treat for breakfast. I ate some Pop Tarts and Cocoa Krispies instead of my usual boring stuff. I hit the trail around 7AM and soon came to Pine Grove Furnace. The furnace stack is huge, somehow my idea that the furnaces are small was way off.

Soon after I left the Furnace, Ran passed by. He was headed to Allen, PA to get food and stay the night, so I thought I’d seen the last of him. But I stopped for lunch around 11, and he came by again. He had gotten lost and had walked two extra miles. I didn’t see him again until Route 34. There was a Dairy Queen type place just up the road, so I added a dessert to my recent lunch. I was quite bloated when I got around to leaving. Our next rendezvous was at Morgans Campground. Their showers were only 50 cents, so I took a nice long one. In the meantime, Ran took off for Allen. When my shower was over, I walked back to campground store to find out it was raining. A lady at the campground said I could sleep in the Rec Room for $1. Since the clouds had been building all day, I was about to take her up, when the sun came out again.

Gathering up all my stuff, I decided to head for the York YMCA buildings on a relocation about 4-5 miles away. I was all psyched up and made great time. But at the top of the ridge was a pile of rocks. The trail went berserk, it would go over some huge boulders, in and out, back and forth, and over this and over that. All the mindless and fruitless effort made me mad. My anger pushed me along at a fast pace, but I was still mad at the trail relocators for all the effort I was spending. I just didn’t know where I was or how long how far away it was to water or the camp buildings.

Finally, I decided to camp near a small stream that I assumed was Little Dogwood Run. A few drops of rain cemented my decision to camp for the night. Luckily, I still had my tarp. Dogwood Run and Weverton were the only times I had needed it so far (Also Blood Mountain in GA?) Thumbing through my guidebook I wasn’t happy to learn that the water in Little Dogwood Run was polluted. Was that what made dinner taste so good? 

Pine Grove Furnace.

May 21, Darlington Shelter, 17.5 miles

Today’s hike was in the Cumberland Valley. Right in the middle of the low ridges of central Pennsylvania is a perfectly flat valley. Twelve miles of road walking but hardly a foot of elevation to be gained. This was the only place on the AT where I could see my objective for a solid ten miles ahead. The ridge on the other side of the valley looked so far away, I thought I might never make it that far. The size of the valley, put my 2,000-mile trip into perspective.

The rain last night was hard, but mercifully brief. My bag got damp in a few places and the tarp was soaked. But the wet stuff didn’t matter much since I planned the next night for a shelter. I was hardly deep in the wilderness.

I was on the trail early and curious to see if I’d stopped just short of any great camping places. “The relocation ended at a place the guidebook described as ‘rough and rocky, and would be dangerous in wet weather.’ I again threatened grievous bodily harm for the trail workers, but luckily the rough stuff didn’t last long.” The bubbling Campbell Spring was the only spot that might have been nicer than Little Dogwood Run.

Soon after Campbell Spring, more road walking started. The whole Cumberland Valley is farmland, so I took to pounding the pavement. Ran had made it to the post office the day before, but I didn’t see any place he might have spent the night. The valley was pretty, but road walking soon gets boring and I lost interest in my surroundings. One advantage of road walking was that you couldn’t go too far before coming across a coke machine. I stopped for one at a gas station on Route 11 and used their restroom. When I came out it was raining. I decided that it might be better for me if I never went under a roof at all. And it wasn’t like I’d been in there a long time either.

I pulled Into Darlington Shelter about 3PM after my only climb of the day. The shelter was a hole. There was only a small area that wasn’t muddy and I slept there. The shelter had a floor and was accessible by jeep, which didn’t help the condition at all. But I was too lazy to move on to the next shelter. Luckily, I had the place to myself.

Cumberland Valley, PA

May 22, Duncannon, PA, 11.1 miles

The crossing of the Susquehanna River is one of the most important on the trail. It marks the halfway point of the AT. Somehow Pennsylvania seemed too far north to be the halfway point, but I’ve come a thousand miles and have another thousand to go.

I got up early to give myself some free time in Duncannon. I had to climb down the ridge I was on, and then climb back up Cove Mountain. The trail was very interesting. But it was poorly blazed and had a rocky footway. Shades of things to come I’m afraid.

I stopped for a gorp break at the junction with the side trail to Thelma Marks Shelter. Two guys there came up and told me that they were hiking to Darlington for the day. It was a boost to my ego to know I’d completed their whole walk before they had even started.

Just before the trail descends off Cove Mountain it passes a beautiful overlook called Hawk Rocks. I appreciated the view, especially since there had been few since I left the Shenandoah. From the overlook I could see the Susquehanna and the town of Duncannon. It was still hard to believe I was almost at the halfway point.

As usual, I got confused trying to follow the trail through Duncannon. I was glad that the fire station was right on the trail. Ran wasn’t there, so I headed to the post office to pick up my package, and discovered him there. He told me that there were no showers at the fire station, so he had stayed at Clarks Ferry Truckstop, a motel just across the river. The place was cheap, so I decided to try it. He and I had a farewell meal at the restaurant at the motel.

Ran Glennon, Duncannon, PA

We took some time to sit in the sun at the motel. I was reading a magazine and catching up with the real world while Ran copied some notes out of the guidebook. Finally, he had to go make sure he would be in Port Clinton in time to make his flight to Boston and start his job. I was sorry to miss him, he had been great company, though I’d expected him to pull ahead of me every day we’d hiked together. (I remember that Ran had memorized his campsite for the entire AT and could list them in order.)

I went back into Duncannon for a book and ended up with “Shardik” by Richard Adams, a book I’d seen a number of times along the trail. I had been carrying paperbacks since Pearisburg (Presumably because Eric had left, and the crowd of other thru-hikers had thinned out).

Hawk Rock Oerlook.

5-4,1976, Appalachian Trail Thru-hike, Snowden to Front Royal VA

This is the fifth of my series of 2025 transcriptions of my journal from my 1976 Appalachian Trail Tru-hike. The journal was compiled from my original trip notes between the finish of the AT in August and my heading to college in September. An introduction to this trip is stored at: AT Intro. (Post 1976 comments are in parentheses.) Photos are scans of my original prints.

My faithful trail guide.

 May 4, Wiggins Spring Shelter, 16.0 miles

Another day of easy walking. Eric and I went 16 miles to Wiggins Spring Shelter. The only two climbs of the day were Bald Knob and Cole Mountain. Bald Knob was a disappointment. After a 2,000’ climb there was no view. In contrast, Cole Mountain had a great summit that reminded me of some of the Southern Balds.

The other highlight of the day was the Lynchburg Reservoir. The trail circled a long loop around the lake. It had been a long time since I was tempted to go swimming, but since swimming in the reservoir was prohibited, we passed it by. But if it had been a little hotter, we probably would have found a secluded cove and taken the plunge.

Brown Mountain Shelter was one of those beautiful shelters so common in Northern Virginia. They were the nicest along the trail until those in Maine. This one had a pretty stream out front. Eric and I stopped there for lunch. While eating we decided that the five bridges we had already crossed that day were a record for the hike.

After dinner, some local people stopped by the shelter. One of them told us the story of Wiggins Spring. “Old Man” Wiggins used to have a farm up in the area. One day he stopped by the spring for a drink. As he looked down, a rattlesnake bit him right on the top of the head. As a result of the bite, the old man died.” I don’t know if that is true, but it makes a spooky story to go with a beautiful spring.

 May 5, Harpers Creek Shelter, 19.9 miles

This was my first 20-mile day in nearly a week. Eric and I hiked all the way to Harpers Creek. It was a more scenic day than the last few. We hiked over Maintop and the Priest, which would be our last 4,000-foot-high mountains until we would get to Vermont. 

View from Spy Rock.

Despite our long day, and numerous short relocations, we took time off to visit Spy Rock, with outstanding views. I took a picture of the immense south side of Three Ridges. Fortunately, we wouldn’t have to climb it until the next day. Besides getting some great views, we also saw some outstanding springs. Lovingston Spring and the one at The Priest were cold and delicious. The obvious comparison is the dryness of the Walker Mountain section further south. The springs were especially welcome as the weather has warmed the last few days, and we were sweating a lot while hiking.

The most grueling part of the day was the long descent down to the Tye River. It was one of those endless series of switchbacks that turns my knees to jelly. However, at the bottom of the descent we were rewarded with a new suspension bridge. But then we had to climb most of the way up Three Ridges. 

Tye River Bridge

When we got to the shelter the people there told us that Andy Coone and Mike Kinney were only a day ahead of us. Since these were two of the famous thru-hiker names in the registers ahead of us, we were anxious to catch up and meet them.

Since this would be the last day I would hike with Eric for a while, it seems appropriate to describe our hiking style. (Eric aborted his thru hike and headed up north to meet his brother Alan. Hopefully, I’ve got more information about his trip later in this journal.) There’s a bit more to it than putting one foot in front of the other. When two people hike together one is usually faster, in our case that was Eric. It was when we were in no hurry and in a mood for conversation that I led. With the urge to boogie, Eric would take off and I would follow. Ours was a loose arrangement and we would typically go at our own pace and walk our own distance.

 May 6, Waynesboro, 23.4 miles

Waking up at five in the morning is not always as exciting as it sounds, especially when it is still dark out. But despite my groans of protest, we were up and ready to put in a long day of hiking. We ate breakfast and packed up as it slowly grew lighter. The only thing that had woken me up was the attack of a young skunk upon my pack. Despite all my efforts at negotiation the skunk was determined to get my food. Finally, I used Eric’s walking stick to nudge it away (Eric always had a hiking stick, while I went without one.) Fortunately, it left without squirting me.

Climbing up the rest of Three Ridges was worse than I expected. The trail just seemed to climb endlessly. Also, my foot (which one?) hurt so much that I cringed just taking another step. After six miles, I pulled into Maupin Field. The shelter had four occupants and Eric. The four were Andy Coone and Mike Kinney and two guys from Minnesota, Rob and Tim, Andy and Mike were two of the weirdest people I had ever met. Rob and Tim were hiking from Georgia to Harpers Ferry. They had passed Eric and I when they hitchhiked around a 90-mile section of the trail (probably the relocation near Roanoke?).

I was surprised to find out how fast they all walked. Mike and Andy were the short and stocky types, but Rob and Tim were long tall hikers. The only one that didn’t leave me in the dirt was Mike. The first time I caught up with them was lunch. In the afternoon I came on everyone’s packs piled up at a Blue Ridge Parkway crossing. I waited for a while for them to return, when they didn’t show I headed on and assumed they would catch up. And catch up they did. They ran by barely slowing up enough to say hello.

Mike had hiked all the way from the first Blue Ridge Parkway crossing. He met a guy who offered to take everyone’s packs into Waynesboro. The four of them ran into town and I plodded onward at my own dreary pace. I got a little depressed missing out on the rare luxury of pack free hiking. At the highway I thumbed a ride into town.

With my urge for the pleasures of civilization at a peak my first stop was McDonalds. Waynesboro was the first town along the trail to be big enough to have one. Just to spite the rest of the group I didn’t eat my food until I got to the fire station (where we were planning to stay). By the time I got there I was exhausted. I’d walked 23 miles on the trail and another mile to get to the fire station. This was my longest day so far.

After I had my meal, we all went out to dinner. We ate the salad bar at the Bonanza Steakhouse almost dry. We also freaked out the other customers. The only others in the main room were an Amish family. The rest were huddled in the corner booths. I can’t imagine what would have happened if we all hadn’t already showered. On the way back we stopped to buy food. We ended up sleeping outside of the fire station on a beautiful full moon night.

 May 7, Sawmill Run Shelter, 9.9 miles

To the northbound AT thru hiker, the Shenandoah National Park is not the paradise that it could be. The main hassle with the park is the rules imposed for camping. The park’s proximity to Baltimore and DC ensures that it is heavily used in summertime. Also, almost all of the AT is within a two-mile walk of the Skyline Drive. All its shelters are within a mile of the road, and all are very accessible. (The easy access meant the shelters were often misused for parties, and required increased maintenance.)

The impression I got was that the park was geared toward day trippers, rather than those out to enjoy the woods. You could drive almost anywhere in the park, but it was very difficult to get away from cars. My opinion (then) was that cars should have been prohibited in the park. A person shouldn’t be enjoying nature and destroying it at the same time.

Some of the park rules are particularly tough on the thru-hiker. For example, just to hike through the park requires a permit. I don’t have an issue with hiking permits, and even walked to the park entry to pick one up. But there was no one at the entry booth, so I spent five and a half days in the park without a permit. Next, the list of places where you can’t camp is long, and includes all the park’s 17 shelters. Apparently the NPS had a lot of trouble with city people moving into the shelters. So instead of tearing the shelters down or implementing a permit system like that in the Smokies, they just decided no one could use them. A third rule prohibited glass containers for obvious reasons.

It took a lot of effort just to get me out of Waynesboro. The rest of the group planned to take a rest day, but I wanted to get on the trail. Andy Coone got some bad news in the mail, his job starts a month earlier than he’d expected, and he’ll need to get off the trail. Mike decided to hike to Harpers Ferry with Rob and Tim. Eric is also changing his strategy, he’s going to start his 24 mile per day pace tomorrow. I’ll miss his company from now on. And, as it turned out, Tim hitched out to the shelter. He and Rob decided to split up for a while.

Since I didn’t hit the trail until noon, I stopped for the day at Sawmill Run Shelter. As was to be my custom in the Shenandoah, I sat around the shelter and cooked my dinner there. Dinner was great as a couple from Boston had some extra stew meat they were shish-kabobbing, and it tasted like the finest steak around. I laid out my sleeping bag down the hill from the shelter. Like all my bivouacs in the park I was camped illegally, but I was far enough from the shelter that I thought I’d get away with it (and there was not another option).

Skyline Drive in Shenandoah NP>

Despite my negative comments above, the trail itself was one of the finest sections of the AT, and without a doubt the easiest. (The flip side of all the access off the Skyline Drive was easy access for maintainers. The SNP AT had wide smooth tread that would have been ideal for mountain bikers, had those been invented yet. And with the trail hugging the crest, any climbs were short and gentle.) To any thru hiker the easy trail is an appreciated blessing.

Ivy Creek Shelter.

May 8, Ivy Creek Shelter, 19.2 miles

Saturday afternoon seemed like the time when all the day hikers arrived at Shenandoah. I hadn’t seen so many people on the trail before “A lot of them stared at me like they had never seen a backpack before. However, most folks I talked with were friendly, though a few were a little rude when I told them what I was doing. I guess they thought they were getting a line of “BS.”

The beautiful park trail just seemed to flow by. There were no big climbs. The trail was so well graded that I hardly realized that I was going uphill. Compared to the George Washington NF, it was a walk in the park. Despite all the people it was good day for wildlife watching. I saw a wild turkey and a group of four deer. The were hundreds of birds and squirrels about. I took lots of pictures of the deer and park trail signs at the Skyline drive crossings.

Deer, Shenandoah NP.

But sometimes the Drive was a bummer. I crossed it 5-6 times just going to Ivy Creek Shelter. Even when you can’t see the Drive, you can hear it. I’d hate to be there in mid-summer, you probably couldn’t cross the road for the traffic.

I walked 19 miles to Ivy Creek Shelter. I decided that my right foot needed a few miles in the morning to settle into my boot. But then after about 15 miles it starts to complain again. The easy park trail was gentle on my feet today.

My pack along the Skyline Drive.

The shelters in the park are really nice. Not only do they have big stone fireplaces, but some even have latrines. The place where I slept was semi-legal, I figured I could get away with staying there. Since I’d thrown away my peanut butter jar, I figured I was entitled to some extra privileges.

I was surprised to have the whole shelter to myself. I thought Eric might pull in, but he never did show.

Sign along the Skyline Drive.

 May 9, Bear Fence Mtn Shelter, 24.4 miles

This was my longest hiking day on the AT. (And remains my longest backpacking day ever). I walked 24.4 miles to Bear Fence Mountain Shelter. The main reason I decided to try to walk so far was curiosity. The Shenandoah AT is legendary for easy walking. I wanted another physical challenge, and got it.

Being consistent with most theories of long distance hiking I covered my mileage not by walking fast, but by walking steadily. Over the first 20 miles I took few breaks. The trail was much less crowded than it had been on Saturday. My only distraction was a group of three deer who allowed me to approach within 15 feet.

Despite my fatigue, the shelter here looked good. Most hikers will never know that feeling that the first sign of the night’s shelter brings to the thru hiker. I pulled in with ample daylight left. The hike, hike, hike principle can get boring. My original journal for the day is negative, Anytime RichMoor Ham Stroganoff takes good, you know something is wrong.

My hiking strategy was to walk four miles, take a break, and then walk another four and eat half my lunch. Then I’d walk another four and eat the rest of my lunch. The rest of the afternoon was broken into two and three mile sections. I tried to stick to this pattern in the Shenandoah, but eventually I found the schedule too confining, and not worth the effort. Hiking these big mile days through the park left me feeling like I was missing out on things, and gave me thoughts of coming back again, maybe earlier in the spring. (My only return trip to Shenandoah was in December of 1977, when I met up with Buddy for a six day trip.) 

Trillium, SNP

 May 10, Shavers Hollow Shelter, 19.1 miles

This was another long day. It was an easy walk, but I was just down mentally. My first disappointment was showing up at one of the Wayside restaurants at 10:30, and discovering that breakfast was 8-10, and lunch was 12-2. I was stunned, was that any way to run a restaurant? (Maybe so in the midweek of early season).

Skyland was only 8 miles away, so I decided to try to catch lunch there. After a three and a half mile trot I decided to bag it and whipped out my squeeze tubes to eat my usual fare of peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. I’m not sure if it was because I’d been so looking forward to the real meal, or just because this was my first time using the squeeze tubes, but looking at the peanut butter coming out of the tube did nothing for my appetite. (I probably was trying squeeze tubes for the first time since glass jars were prohibited in the park, and in those days peanut butter came in glass, not plastic, containers). 

Hawksbill.

I took it easy the rest of the way to Skyland. I even skipped the side trip to Hawksbill. I got disoriented looking around Skyland, it was a large complex, and I wasn’t sure where the food might be. I got some candy bars hoping to cheer myself up. “I also bought a Mr. Pibbs, which I thought was some kind of root beer. Even though it tasted horrible I drank the whole thing. My first reaction was an upset tummy, then I thought I’d fall asleep. “Ah well, live and learn.”

“Finally, I made it to Shavers Hollow, which was 0.3 mile down a cliff. It was nice, but after reading the guidebook description I expected a palace. Anyway, the water was good.” 

Typical trail section, Shenandoah.

Sitting around the shelter eating dinner I predicted rain for the 20-mile hike I had planned for the next day. Unfortunately, I turned out to be correct this time, but I had other, more immediate worries. I couldn’t find a level place to lay out my sleeping bag. Luckily, I found a blown down tree whose root ball had pulled out leaving me with a coffin sized flat area in the midst of the slope. 

More deer.

 May 11, Gravel Spring Shelter, 20.5 miles

My luck finally turned, I made the Panorama Restaurant on time. Of course, they were still serving breakfast when I was ready for lunch. To top off the meal I had an ice cream cone. The cones came in two sizes; regular and hiker. Even the hiker size was skimpy, perhaps they need a thru-hiker size, served in a bathtub maybe?

The walking was typical Shenandoah boogie country. I set a new record for shelters passed in a day, going by four of them. They were all well-kept and nice looking. I was luckily to visit so many as I was dodging rain throughout the day. 

Byrds Nest No. 4.

I stopped for the night at Gravelly Spring after hiking 20.5 miles. The only others there was a group of six from Missouri who were walking the whole AT in the park. At one point one asked how many people might have hiked the full Shenandoah AT and I opined that it was likely a lot, bursting their bubble I’m afraid.

The rest of my journal for the day is concerned with the luxuries I might find the next day in Front Royal (my next resupply point). For someone who hadn’t slept in a bed for a month, or had a roof over his head for a week, a motel room sounded like the lap of luxury.

During the night I was awakened by the pitter patter of rain drops on my sleeping bag. I quickly decided to vacate my campsite which was nestled by a ”No Camping” sign. In the dark I stumbled towards the shelter, not really sure I knew where it was. I almost fell into the spring before finding the shelter. In true thru-hiker style, I was back asleep within a minute.

 May 12, Front Royal, VA Quality Inn, 11.2 miles

I woke up early the next morning anxious to be on my way to Front Royal. I had carvings for MacDonalds and a Holiday Inn. Time went by quickly as I debated whether to go into Front Royal from the first or second gap. Going to the second gap would mean an extra five miles of walking. 

Cumberland Valley.

At the park boundary I saw the first trail register I’d seen since I entered the park. After confessing my sins of illegal camping, I moved along. I little while later I came across Floyds Wayside. It was more of a pavilion than a shelter, with just a roof and floor, but no sides. There were also supposed to be tent platforms on a side trail, but I did not check those out. The Wayside impressed me. The AT here was maintained by the private Potomac Appalachian Trail Club. However, a relocation adding two more miles of the AT cooled some of my enthusiasm.

Eventually I came to the highway and stuck out the thumb, hoping for a ride into town. The extra trail mileage had dulled any thoughts of wanting to walk the five miles into town. My usual poor luck with hitchhiking held long enough that I recognized cars that were passing me a second time on their return journeys. One car passing the other way honked. I almost responded rudely, but then they came back around and gave me a ride. Any thru-hiker will tell you it’s no fun trying to hitchhike along the AT to town.

The driver was a ATC member, and he confirmed that the ATC Patch on my huge backpack was the reason he’d stopped. This was the only time the AT patch, not my pack, got me the ride. The driver dropped me off at the Post Office to pick up my supply package and they directed me to the Quality Inn.

I spent the afternoon buying groceries, reorganizing my pack, and reading about the outside world. I missed dropping my (return?) package off at the post office (so presumably would need to wait until the next day to mail it home). My long shower left a dirt ring around the bathtub. Who says hikers are dirty people?

For dinner I went first class, all the way to MacDonalds. It was good to have a little meat once in a while. My freeze-dried dinners advertised beef or chicken, but I’m sure even a lot of chefs would have a hard time finding it.

I was surprised that I did not sleep well in the hotel room. The soft bed was not what I was used to. But it felt good to just rest my body. After a 20-mile day it seems I needed extra rest to recover.