6-18-1976, Appalachian Trail Thru-hike, Holmes, NY to Cheshire, MA

This is the tenth 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 I headed 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.) 

The CT & Mass Guidebook.

June 18, Kent, CT Churchyard, 20.0 miles

For our last day in New York State Mrs. Henry sent us off with a rousing breakfast. She was kind enough to also make us sandwiches for lunch. After some parting thanks, Buddy, Tim, and I were off on the trail again.

We would have made great time through the New York countryside, except for the diversions of Pawling, NY. First, we stopped off at a tennis camp for a gorp break and a coke. Then we got a few cokes at a nursing home right near the trail. We spent some time talking with one of the attendants about our hikes.

Then, in a near miracle, we hit a relocated section of trail which took the trail off the roads and back into the woods. I could hardly believe it. We stopped for lunch at a little hut (school bus shelter?) along the trail. It was quickly deemed another “gorp break” hut, but this one was large enough that might have been able to sleep in it in an emergency. No water there though. After lunch, after another relocation, we came out right in the middle of Webatuck, NY.

A lady who ran the local herb store let us get water at her store. She also told us that there wasn’t any place in town to stay, so we decided to push on to Kent, CT. Luckily it was only a short climb to the NY-CT state line. The state line was well marked and had two trail registers. One register had an entry by one of Hope’s friends describing New England as God’s country. Buddy and Tim did not agree, but they are entitled to a few mistakes. We would still be in “The Slums of the AT” until we got to Vermont, but overall, the hiking in Connecticut and Massachusetts was nice. The two states got overlooked by our wishes to get back to Vermont, and onto the Long Trail, “The Land of Milk and Honey”.

Connecticut wasn’t gentle on a tired New Englander. After a tough climb up Mt. Algo the trail plunged down a boulder-strewed cliff. Under the circumstances, it was getting dark, it would have been easy to lose the trail. So, of course, I did get lost and ended up scrambling down some boulders to a road that took me into Kent, CT. (I’m not sure on these late day/early evening hikes if I was hiking by flashlight, or if with the longer days I was even carrying a flashlight. Back in those days even a flashlight with two AA batteries would have had a very limited life span.)

At one of the local stores, I ran into Buddy. I reminded him that I’d never gotten seriously lost until I met up with him and Tim, but now I was getting lost a lot. (Probably as a result of trying to keep up.) Unfortunately, the Kent Tourist home was closed, but Tim managed to get us permission to sleep behind the Church across the street. The only condition was that we would leave in the morning before the church auction started. To top off the day, we treated ourselves to pizza at the local grease pit.

June 19, Westport, CT Home, 0 miles

After virtually running through Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and New York I decided I needed some time off. I’d been averaging over 18 miles a day since I had gotten back on the trail. So, after I called home in the morning, I called the Hendricksons, their son Andy was a good friend of mine from summer camp. They invited me down to their home in Westport for the day and said that Buddy and Tim were welcome too. I didn’t know what the others wanted to do, so I told the Hendricksons that I would call back if I was coming down. I was reluctant to lose two hiking partners that I probably wouldn’t be able to catch up with again.

Back at the laundromat, our headquarters for the morning, we decided that we were ready for a short vacation. To make hitchhiking to Westport a bit easier I went off first, and Buddy and Tim would follow. Rides were scarce, both of them caught up with me. On the way down I called the Hendricksons and when I got to town they came and picked me up. Buddy and Tim arrived a bit later.

In Westport, we got a grand tour of the town, and I kept alive my unbeaten string at ping pong. In the afternoon, Andy showed his slides of hiking in the White Mountains. It was a good change of pace from doing the hiking ourselves. Andy’s parents fed us a great steak dinner that night. I got an extra surprise, Bill Pryor, another friend from camp, came by to visit Andy. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting to see me in town! (Both Andy and Bill were likely planning to spend the summer working at Camp before heading off for their freshman years at college, with Andy going to Brown.)

June 20, Mt Brook Shelter, 10.7 miles

Mr. Hendrickson and Andy offered to drive us back to the AT to save the hassle (and time) of hitchhiking back. After a pancake breakfast by Mrs. Hendrickson, we were off to the mountain again. It was good to see the whole family. Looking at Andy’s pictures brought back the fun memories of our hiking together. With all the pictures of the White Mountains, I was eager to return to New Hampshire.

Once back on the trail we hiked a short distance to Chase Mountain Shelter for lunch. I was surprised. This poor shelter was as run down as most of those in New York.

The most striking feature of the trail in CT was its steep descents. St. Johns Ledges was likely the steepest of all, but still not as bad as its reputation. When I went by there was a rock-climbing lesson going on. That did not help my confidence. I also remembered seeing a picture of someone holding the small tree that they had grabbed to save themselves from falling off.

After a short 11 miles we quit for the day at Mt Brook Shelter. This shelter surprised me by being in good shape, even though it was only 100 yards off a dirt road. I was surprised to see so few people on the trail in CT. The trail is close to a lot of people, and it is well maintained. I guess the Catskills or Long Trail are bigger draws.

About three miles from Mt. Brook, I missed a chance for a great photo. The trail was following a short stretch of road, and I was following behind Buddy and Tim, when up ahead came a sign warning “Slow Children Walking”. Unfortunately, by the time my camera was out, Buddy and Tim had just turned off the road into the woods. But at least I got a photo of the sign.

AT sign roadside.

June 21, Boulder Shelter, 14.4 miles

Ah! The first day of summer. One might expect all sorts of wonderful things to happen on this day, deer coming to eat out of your hand, or seeing the bird that makes that strange call. But no, it was just another muggy day like the two weeks before it.

I got an early start towards our first objective, Cornwall, Conn. The trail was mostly a dirt road, and at one point passed through a simply beautiful stand of white pine. Just before Cornwall the trail crossed a stream on very wobbly log. I managed to step on a rock and kept my feet dry. Buddy was right behind me, but he fell in.

It was reunion time on the trail. After lunch we all ran into Rick Willard hiking south. Frank Jurkowski’s pack frame broke in Delaware Water Gap. While Frank went home for a new pack, Rick decided to hike the Massachusetts and Connecticut AT from north to south. Frank had already hiked both states so they planned to meet up again to hike New York and New Jersey. We also ran into Mike Tyson, who had hiked with Eric Heinrich last year.

Buddy, Tim, and I stopped at Boulder Shelter. We had a choice of three (shelters?) in a 1.5 mile area, but Boulder was reputed to be the nicest. We shared the shelter with a kid who trucked in with a tee shirt with “NY to ME” printed on it. He was headed to the NH-ME state line and had started in Kent. He had come some ridiculously long mileage, and it was apparent from the way that he handled his gear that it was his first day out. Buddy and I saw him again near Mt. Jefferson in the Whites, but he had given up his original hike in Salisbury, and was out day hiking with his father when we saw him again. He looked like he was about 14. 

Buddy near Bunker Hill.

June 22, Salisbury, CT Hostel, 19.8 miles

I came down with another case of the “slows.” I was even further behind Buddy and Tim than usual. Since they both walked faster than me, we rarely were walking together, but sometimes I would walk with Buddy late in the day. Usually, I would leave the shelter first in the morning, and after being passed, I’d usually mee them at lunch. I didn’t catch up with them this day for lunch since I’d stopped earlier at Pine Knob Shelter. Unfortunately, the next shelter north from Pine Knob was 40 miles away. Since my feet were giving me a hard time, a forty-mile hike in the afternoon seemed like way too much.

I did catch up with Buddy and Tim on top of Barrack Mountain. I think this was the only peak in the state that was as rough going up as it was down. We had heard mixed reports about whether Limestone Springs Shelter was still standing. Even Rick Willard had not been sure. Buddy and Tim, out ahead, as usual, found where the shelter had burned to the ground. They thought the fire had been a couple of years ago, but we later found out that it had been only a few weeks before. Luckily, it was only five miles from Limestone to Salisbury. Prodded on by droplets of rain I even made it to the Post Office before it closed. Package secured, our next item of business was finding a place to stay. We’d already hiked twenty miles, so we didn’t want to have to move on. As usual, Tim was in charge of this operation. While he went to work, I went to the local outdoor store to look for boots. They didn’t have anything, so I compromised and bought a pair of Dr. Scholls Air Pillow Insoles. Ole’ Doc Scholls has more to do with the AT than people might think. Without moleskin, half of prospective end to enders probably wouldn’t make it out of North Carolina.

Tim did his job well. He found a Youth Hostel and even arranged a ride for us. The local inn would have cost $24 for the three of us. The hostel was in bad shape. We had to go over to another building to turn on the water, and all it had was a latrine. I’d seen better facilities at a lot of shelters. But what did I expect for $2.50?

June 23, Mt. Everett Shelter, 12.2 miles

We all slept late at the hostel. After a quick breakfast I hitched back to Salisbury to mail some extra items home (how come I never mention what gear I’ve decided that I can do without?). By the time I hit the trail it was 9:15, a late start for me.

The trail was great all day long. I saw one deer. It was in a populated area, so the sighting was a surprise, and turned out to be one of the few deer on the New England end of my hike. As a warmup for the much larger mountains ahead, we climbed several 2,000 footers including Mt. Everett at 2,600’. I was into the Berkshires at last. For the rest of the trip, I would be spending most of my time climbing or descending.

The big milestone of the day was crossing the Mass State line at Sages Ravine. This meant I had only four states to go (MA, VT, NH, and ME). Sages Ravine was beautiful. It was steep, but there were plenty of camping places and lots of campers. I met a buddy of Frank Jurkowski’s who was on a day hike. While I was eating lunch, he gave me a long, complicated explanation of why my feet were so often hurting. I remembered little of it, but the guy was a runner and seemed to know his stuff.

The shelter on top of Mt Everett is supposed to be closed to overnight hikers. It was designed for picnickers who drive to the mountain top. Everett and Mt Greylock make Mass unique in that there are two peaks with automobile access. Anyhow, a shelter is a shelter, and we didn’t want to see a good one go to waste. We cooked dinner and did our evening chores at the shelter, but tried to look like we weren’t planning to spend the night. At 7:45 we moved off to the woods near the shelter because we knew the ranger would check in between 8 and 8:30. He showed up on time, checked the shelter, and left. We gave him some time to get down the mountain, and then moved back in for the night. Since there were only four shelters in the 80 miles of the AT in Mass, we had to learn to make do. 

Appalachian Trail Sign for CT.

June 24, Mt Wilcox Shelter, 20.4 miles

Since we were camped at Mt Everett we got an especially early start. Despite taking time to cook oatmeal, I was on the trail at 6:15. Hiking that early in the morning was nice. The beautiful view from the Everett Shelter was fogged in. However, only the lowlands were covered, leaving the higher peaks above the clouds.

Descending to Jug End was hard in the fog. It was hard to see, and everything was damp. Compounding this was the steep terrain. The Jug End Spring was a real gusher. The water poured out of a pipe in a solid stream. After Jug End the next four miles were all road walking so I made some decent time. The area was rural with cattle farms, something that we hadn’t seen much recently along the trail.

I ate my lunch on East Mtn. while enjoying the view. The sky had cleared for the first time in nearly two weeks. I was hoping the long stretch of muggy weather was over. I was getting tired of being rained on when ever I had a leaky roof over my head.

After East Mtn., I hit another relocation. The trail went berserk, winding all over the mountain. The extra miles would have bothered me more except that I was getting eaten up by all the local bugs. Our local trail relocators seemed to be an indecisive bunch. The trail heading up from Rte. 23 to Benedict Pond had both blue and white blazes. It was confusing, but we made it to the pond.

At Benedict Pond we all took a swim. Then we hiked together over to Mt. Wilcox Shelter. It wasn’t in too bad shape, only a few holes in the ceiling. The biggest problem was the bugs. It was too hot to crawl deep into my sleeping bag, so bugs had the advantage. To top it off, there was another short rain.

June 25, October Mtn. Shelter, 19.6 miles

Luckily for us it did not rain long in the morning. We just had the rain dripping off the trees to worry about. All of us, even me, managed to make good time into the little town of Tyringham. I had long ago taken to singing to myself while walking the roads, but somehow the road to Tyringham stood out. My favorites included Dicky Betts’ “Blue Sky”, John Denver’s Country Roads, and the Eagles “My Man”, with the all-time favorite of both Buddy and I being Bob Dylan’s “Tangled up in Blue”. At least my repertoire extended to four songs.

The store at Tyringham ranked with Snowden, VA as one of the smallest along the trail. About all I got that was worth carrying was some candy. But, by now I’d rather run out of dinner food than candy.

We had good hiking all day long. The only problem was the lack of blazes. A relocation around Finerty Pond moved the trail off the road and through a swamp. We passed several ponds, but none were welcoming for a swim.

One of the highpoints of my day was eating lunch on the bridge overpass above the Mass Turnpike. I’d driven under the trail many times on family trips, and each time I told myself that one day I would be up there hiking the trail. It felt great to finally be up there. This car-width or so of trail along the turnpike was the only area of the AT south of Moosilauke that I had been on before I started my through hike.

After our second twenty-mile day in a row, we stopped at October Mountain Shelter. The shelter did not have water, but it was in great shape for a structure built in 1939. One of our remedies against boredom was a guessing game about the ages of all the shelters. At October Mountain we were passed by two guys hiking along in black nylon bikini bathing suits. I assume they wore the suits for their light weight, but none of us dared to ask. 

Tyringham Church.

June 26, Cheshire, MA, Hotel, 19.9 miles

The ten miles between October Mountain and Dalton, MA included some of the worst maintained sections of the entire Appalachian Trail. To warm us all up, we hit the mud that Mass has an undeserved reputation for. Then I went wading through bushes and brambles that cut up my bare legs. The trail was hard to follow, and often would disappear into pricker bushes. But the most frustrating thing was to come to junctions where the trail was blazed leading off in different directions. The whole section was irritating and no fun at all. 

Logging truck along the AT.

Buddy and I had lunch on a long section of dirt road just outside of Dalton. He and Tim had raced along all morning since it was Saturday, and they didn’t know when the Post Office would close. After lunch we walked together. We were passed by a huge logging truck. I was surprised to see one so close to the trail. The rest of the hike to Cheshire was easy, but unexciting. But there was a great overlook above the Hoosic River just before Cheshire. 

The Hoosic River.

I met up with Buddy at the grocery store, and Tim pulled in shortly after. He had found a tourist home in town and found someone to take us up there. We spent the night at East View Tourist Home run by Mrs. Morey. She had been taking in thru-hikers for a long time and we had heard of her. She immediately took the position of substitute mother for us.

We spent the rest of the afternoon at the laundromat. After dinner we relaxed and watched a little TV. For the second time in three weeks, we saw the Bob Newhart Show. Bob was fast becoming a tradition for us.

Appalachian Trail Thru-hike, Delaware Water Gap PA to Holmes, NY, 6-10-76

This is the ninth of my series of 2025/2026 transcriptions of the journal from my 1976 Appalachian Trail Thru-hike. The journal was compiled from my original trip notes in the time between my finish of the AT in August, and before I headed 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.)

The NJ and NY Guidebook.

June 10, Brinks Road Shelter, 24.2 miles

The trail through New Jersey differs little from that of Pennsylvania. I guess it is ridiculous to assume things will change just because I’ve crossed a state line. These changes come, but only slowly. The rocks are still there, but there is one difference. In New Jersey we’ve left behind the ridge and valley system of the Appalachian Mountains. The low peaks of NJ and NY are a transition zone between the ridge and valley province of PA and the higher peaks of the Taconic and Berkshire ranges to the north.

Another first in New Jersey is Sunfish Pond. This little mountain pond is the first of many that will be seen as the trail continues north. I didn’t stay long at the pond as I was eager to catch up with Buddy and Tim. I spent all morning trying to catch them, having little luck. I trucked along through awesome heat while sweating like a pig (this was my first major bout of hot weather for the trip). I finally gave up the chase around noon and stopped for lunch. After a quick munch I was back on the trail and caught the pair a half hour later at Camp Mohican Road. My habit of stopping just short of where they would break for lunch would set the tone for the next two months of walking.

After lunch we walked, more or less, together. “Together” consisted of Buddy and Tim rambling along while I tried to keep up. There were a few surprises such as deer (in New Jersey!), and a new shelter. The new shelter was down a side trail about a mile south of the Catfish Fire Tower. I did not take the side trip to see it.

The three of us ate dinner at a little spring 17 miles north of Delaware Water Gap. After dinner, Buddy and Tim were still up for hiking the seven miles to Brinks Road Shelter. I decided to tag along mostly for the company. (Getting extra miles after dinner was a new strategy for me, and not something I ever did much of). Tim went off like a shot while Buddy and I took it as slow as we dared. We passed a girl camped in her tent. I think I met her again on the trail, and that she was a friend of Eric Heinrich.

After taking a picture of Buddy with the sunset in the background, we were off again. The photo turned out to be one of the best of the trip. The sunset should have been my clue to hustle up. Down went the sun and I was still on the trail. I got frustrated with the dark and my now slower pace, but eventually I made it to the shelter. I had managed my second 24 mile day.

Buddy at Brinks Road Shelter.

(This was my second longest day of the trip though it goes almost unnoticed in my journal. Perhaps after 20+ miles, one or two more makes little difference, at least compared to those days where the footing, climbing, weather, or route finding are more difficult).

June 11, Mashipacong Shelter, 15.2 miles

I woke up tired from the long day before. As soon as we started out, my right foot began to hurt. I had to stop a couple times to take my boot off and rub my foot. My feet were in a long process of settling into my boots. They would generally hurt for the first mile of the hike and then be OK until much later in the day. When they decided I’d gone too far, they would begin to hurt again.

I told my feet they’d soon get a break when I went by Route 206 and Worthington’s Bakery. But the Bakery would not be open until the next day. Buddy, Tim, and I moved down the street to the gas station for a hit of junk food. Just before we left, a car pulled up and out jumped Hugh McGowen, backpack and all. Hugh (whom I’d met on June 5), lived in Katonah, NY and was on a trip to hike the NJ and NY AT sections.

The three of us (HR, Buddy, and Tim) ate a huge pavilion on Sunrise Mountain. It would have been a great place to sleep, but it was exposed to the wind. I spent most of the meal wondering where Eric Heinrich was. We had passed a fire tower earlier in the day which had a trail register, but there was no entry from Eric in it. Eventually I figured that he must have been behind us. While at home on break, I received a postcard from him. He mentioned hurting his foot, so it made sense that the injury had slowed him down.

Buddy at Masipacong Shelter.

When I pulled into the Mashipacong Shelter Buddy and Tim had already decided to stay there. I was ahead of my schedule already and decided to quit for the day as well. According to our faithful fact sheet we’d done 15 miles. But, according to the guidebook, we’d only covered 12. I’d found the error while sitting at the gas station and I imagined that we got in the extra three miles while eating pies and drinking cokes. It was the easiest three miles of the trip!

At Mashipacong Shelter.

June 12, NJ Route 94 Hotel, 16.0 miles

Ick, blah, more road walking. If Pennsylvania is famous on the AT for its rocks, New York should be famous for its road walking. Around Unionville, NY there is a 15-mile stretch of roads. Buddy, Tim, and I got up early to make the Unionville post office, which was only open early on Saturdays. There was no way to tell exactly when it should close. On the first five miles of road walking, I came down with my spring disease, hay fever. I was constantly sneezing and coughing and was in lousy shape. The coughing was often violent and I’m sure Buddy thought I might be seriously ill.

But I managed to get along and even got to the Post Office on time. I did my usual chores, bought groceries, called home, mailed some stuff back, and then settled down to lunch. Mine included a contact (OTC Drug) for my hay fever, some cake, and a Genese. I was going to add some pretzels with the beer, but I figured the cake would go better.

Our next ten miles were almost all hard surfaced roads. There was only one break, and that was a relocation up Pochuck Mtn. We managed to get totally lost. I wasn’t even sure which state we were in most of the time. Usually when I got lost on the trail it was a simple matter of retracing my steps back. But this time we had gone too far to turn back. Finally, we spotted a farmer and tromped across his field to ask directions. He set us out in the right direction, and we found the trail on the north side of Pochuck Mtn. The last few miles of road walking were tough on my feet. A full day of hard pavement got them too sore for more walking. By the time we reached NJ 94, both Budy and I were hurting.

Just up the road on NJ 94 was the Appalachian Motel. Tim was waiting there for us with bad news. The place didn’t open until 7PM. There were no shelters in the area so all three of us voted for the hotel. Sure enough, at 7 the manager arrived and rented us a room. The room cost $20 and wasn’t worth $10. But we did get the chance to shower and watch a little TV. (Buddy, Tim, and I would, by coincidence, often spend Saturday nights in a hotel in a trail town, and would often watch the Bob Newhart Show). This was hardly the lap of luxury, but we were happy to be off the road. I even won the coin toss for one of the beds.

As a footnote Buddy and I saw some people camping out on NJ 94. Tim had talked to them and found out that they were just hiking for the weekend. The section they had chosen was south to Unionville and included all the road walking we had just found so horrible.

June 13, Roger’s Place Bivi, 13.0 miles

There was a relocation off the road north of NJ 94. The merciless pounding of asphalt was exchanged for wandering around the relocation with no idea where you are. But the terrain wasn’t bad with only a few muddy and boggy areas.

On this part of the trail, we were very close to New York City. I knew I wouldn’t be walking under any factory smokestacks, but anytime you are this close to civilization, you can’t expect to feel like you are in the wilderness. But surprisingly we didn’t see the direct city impacts from the trail.

It wasn’t until we were on a long ridge above Greenfield Lake that our proximity to the real world became clear. Buddy, Tim, and I were walking quietly when we heard low rumbles in the distance. Behind us on the trail came three trail bikes amid an explosion of noise. I told the riders that they were on the AT and they shouldn’t be on the trail. Off they went. The bikes were tearing big chunks of turf out of the ground. Buddy and Tim threw a few logs across the trail in case they made a return trip. Return they did with a few uncomplimentary words from us. Without question trail bikers then (and still now?) remain some of the least considerate people I’ve met.

Greenwood Lake also gave us another first. From an overlook we did see the Big Apple. We couldn’t have been more than 30 miles away. 

Buddy and Tim near NJ 94.

Eric Heinrich told me about a guy along the trail in New York who put up hikers for free. While walking along the ridge we came to a side trail, with a trail register marking the junction.  The register invited us down to “the Oasis” for iced tea. The sponsor of the Oasis turned out to be the man Eric described. Roger operated the “Appalachian Cottage” in upper Greenwood Lake Village, about 200 yards down from the Oasis. Unfortunately, he was not there when we arrived. Having nowhere else to go we set up camp in his side yard. It seemed strange to set up camp in the yard of someone you had never met, assuming that he wouldn’t mind (but that was the AT), but that’s what we did. Lucky for us it didn’t rain.

Tim at the Oasis.

Roger did not have water, so Buddy and I went after some. We heard some good gossip. Hope Mauran and her friends had been by. One had hurt her ankle badly. Buddy figured it was Joanna, because she had been complaining badly about her ankles while in PA. The lady who had given us water had driven the four girls to a hospital in nearby Warwick. That would have put them a day at most ahead of us, assuming the ankle was OK, and that the group had returned to the trail.

June 14, Fingerboard Shelter, 20.0 miles

Like all parts of the trail, New York has had its surprises. While most of the natives are probably used to moving around by subway, I spent most of my day climbing up and over unnumerable hills. The trail had stopped following the main ridgetops, made a major turn, and went over every possible hill. The most memorable section was called “Agony Grind”. It would have been less colorfully called a cliff.

At the top of Agony Grind we came across a rattlesnake basking in the sun. Undoubtedly, the snake was just waiting to prey on some exhausted hiker dragging themselves up the cliff. Luckily, we were just getting ready to descend, so the snake tried to avoid us. We were able to get pictures before it slithered off. To add to my wildlife collection, I saw two deer just past the entrance to the Palisades Interstate Park. Who would have thought that New York would be one of the best places for wildlife viewing on the trail? The snake I saw on Agony Grind might have been the only one I saw on the trip.

The oldest parts of the AT are in the Palisades. I was amused to see that the beginning of the original section was hard surfaced. But the pavement only lasted a short distance. The sections of trail over fifty years old were a great change from the relocation that surrounded them. It appears that the only parts of the trail in New York that were safe are those on public land.

Afte 20 miles of climbing up and over ridges we came to Fingerboard Shelter, our destination for the night. Fingerboard was typical of the NY trail shelters, those few that were still up anyway. There was no water, except at a polluted lake which was a good way away. The roof also had a bunch of holes which prompted a considerable amount of rearrangement when it rained during the night.

Some other hikers later pulled into Fingerboard. Phil Graveline, just back from a three-day vacation, was hiking from Shenandoah to Maine. I did not see him again on the trail. Ralph Dehart and Ron Keal also pulled in. Both averaged over 20 miles a day. Ralph planned to meet his girlfriend the next day at Bear Mountain. Both Ralph and Ron finished the trail.

June 15, Graymoor Monastery Hostel, 16.5 miles

Some days on the trail start out bad, get better, get worse, and so on. This was unfortunately one of those. Ralph and Ron woke up early at some ungodly hour (even by my early morning standards). It was still dark and they woke everyone else up. Just when the rest of us were getting ready to leave, it started to rain. Old Mother Nature didn’t go to the trouble of putting on a big display, just enough to make us all good and wet.

The rain lasted an hour and a half. When it stopped, we were only concerned with climbing our daily allotment of hills. On top of West Mountain, I took a bad fall, I was inching down some hardpacked mud when my feet slipped out from under me. I slipped and rolled down the hill until I was stopped by a rock in the trail. I was having a hard time getting back up, so Buddy offered to come down to help. Then he fell in the same spot. His was just a little slip, but I saw the whole thing while lying on my back while thinking “Oh God, he’s going to fall right on top of me.” Between the two of us we managed to get me back up. I had a few cuts and scrapes, but the only real damage was to my glasses. The plastic lenses had major scrapes (no croakies in those days). While walking down the mountain I thought I’d need to get new lenses soon. (The scraped lens looked bad, but I don’t remember it affecting my vision that badly. I also do not remember if I was able to replace the lens, or if I wore the scraped lens for the entire rest of the trip).

I caught up with Buddy and Tim on the summit of Bear Mountain. While they went off to find the trail, I went to the rest room to wash up. Bear Mountain was a tourist peak, with a roadway to the summit. Once I was done, I could not find the trail either. The guidebook was no help, but eventually I asked a ranger.

But the ranger couldn’t, (or wouldn’t) tell me how to find the AT. I think he could have led me by the hand to Macy’s, but the AT was beneath him. He kept recommending other trails, while I kept insisting on the AT. I headed off on my own, hoping I wouldn’t get too confused by the Ranger’s instructions. I followed a trail that led to a road that (Voila!) led to the AT. Merrily I followed the trail downhill until I reached the road that cut between West Mountain and Bear Mountain. The only problem was I was hiking down the trail that I’d just hiked up. I felt like crying, it was the low point of a bad day.

At this point I committed a sin; I stuck out my thumb. Luckily, I wasn’t picked up for a while and was there long enough to realize that I was still headed in the wrong direction. Once I turned myself around, I got a ride from two ladies that I had passed while hiking. They told me they usually didn’t pick up hikers, but they couldn’t figure out what I was doing at the bottom of the mountain. They drove me to the other side of Bear Mountain, while I had to rationalize my decision to hitch the ride around the mountain rather than hike up and over again. I had skipped 1.2 miles, but I’d probably have confronted that ranger if I’d seen him again. (I also didn’t want to lose Buddy and Tim as they seemed like the most promising hiking partners I had seen since Eric had left the trail.)

The ladies dropped me off at Bear Mountain State Park where I hit the trail and started to look for Buddy and Tim. I had taken me two hours to “cover” 1.2 miles, so I was sure they would be wondering where I was. I found them sipping a beer at a refreshment stand. Over some munchies, I told my story. It seemed like an appropriate place to skip. It was a zoo, the whole mountain was covered with people. The park even had a real zoo, and its bear den was the lowest point on the Appalachian Trail at 115’ above sea level. (I would not see another bear on the trip until we saw a bear crossing the highway ahead of us as I drove home from Katahdin with my parents.)

After passing through the park, I paid the ten-cent toll to cross the Hudson River, Traditionally the toll was a nickel, but the man in the booth indicated the price had gone up.

Hiking to Graymoor Monastery I managed to get lost one more time. Graymoor is a rehab center for alcoholics, but recently they started taking in hikers. I was given a sandwich for dinner, as I’d missed the regular dinner. I got a bed for the night courtesy of the Monastery. Everyone was really nice.

June 16, Torrey Memorial Shelter, 14.6 miles

This was a nice 16-mile walk to Torrey Memorial Shelter. Though summer was still five days away the heat and muggy air meant that I was sweating a lot. The hiking was nice, only one long section of road walking after Canopus Valley Crossroads.

The people at Graymoor allowed all the hikers to eat with their early group, so we were all on the trail by 8 AM. We had a nice meal of eggs, ham, toast, and juice.

Buddy, Tim, and I had a nice long swim at Canopus Lake. We were in a state park and weren’t supposed to be swimming. Their ranger came by and was really nice about our transgression, Since we hadn’t known we were in the state park everything worked out alright. But the chance to swim was great. The weather was super hot and humid, and the lake so refreshing.

Hope Mauran and friends, appeared in the trail registers. They had pulled ahead of us, while we had not seen them signed into the registers. I’d given up any hope of catching them. They moved faster than I was willing to push myself.

Buddy, Tim, and I had Torrey Memorial to ourselves. The shelter was scheduled for possible demolition. But the shelter was nice and it would have been bad to miss it. Since we’d only gone 14 miles, we had the afternoon to relax. The rest of the NY AT promised to present lots of road walking and little water.

I got my weekly ego boost just south of Canopus Lake. Buddy and I were walking together when we came upon two couples walking. After the usual pleasantries they asked how long we’d been out. I’d just been trying to figure that out, and replied “1,300 miles.” One of the girls gasped and almost passed out, We excused ourselves and moved on.

June 17, Holmes, NY Private Home, 17.2 miles

Sometimes it seems it only rains when I’m sleeping under a roof that leaks. It was my luck last night to wake and realize I was under a large leak. Then, while trying to find a dry spot deck, I partly fell off. I finally found a dry spot, but not until I woke up Buddy and Tim.

Fortunately, the rain stopped by breakfast time. I ate a huge amount of oatmeal, which I had been accumulating from my supply drops, while eating my breakfast bars instead. After stuffing myself, I headed out ahead of Buddy and Tim. That was a mistake. The trail hadn’t been cleared recently so all the small limbs and bushes hung over the trail. Bashing through the brush I got as wet as if it had been raining. Luckily for me, the rest of the hike was either dirt or paved roads.

We all got into Holmes early. We had our usual gorging at the store. Our plan had been to spend the night in town, but there was nowhere to stay. Luckily Buddy and I ran into Mr. and Mrs. Ben Henry of Holmes who told us that in a pinch we could stay at their house. Their house was right on the AT in Holmes, so we headed on up there. These friendly people gave us dinner and let us use their garage for the night. Along with the Evans of Pine Grove, PA they were among the nicest people we met along the trail.

Appalachian Trail Thru-hike, 6-5-76, Port Clinton, PA to Delaware Water Gap, PA

This is the eighth of my series of 2025/2026 transcriptions of my journal from my 1976 Appalachian Trail Tru-hike. The journal was compiled from my original trip notes after my finish of the AT in August, and before I headed 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.)

My copy of the AT guide to PA.

June 5, Pocahontas Spring Bivi, 2.2 miles

After getting back to Port Clinton, I was eager to hit the trail again. I felt more at home on the trail now, than I did back in Barrington. I had two quick plane flights and some hitch hiking to reach Port Clinton. (Again, I wish my notes had not been so sparse on my logistics.)

All the way from Damascus to Port Clinton I had been hearing about the hoards of hikers behind me. Though Ran Glennon was the only one I’d met, I was sure there were several others. Since I’d been off the trail for eight days, many of those hikers should now be ahead of me. Meeting them was the reason I was so excited about hitting the trail again.

I was restless when I reached Port Clinton, and it was an easy decision to start down the trail (Presumably, I got into town late in the afternoon.) After a long two miles I came to Pocohontas Spring and decided to camp there. There was a group of three and another lone hiker already there. I knew the lone guy was thru hiking because who else would have drilled holes in the case of their Optimus stove.

The first of this new group of thru hikers was Hugh McGowan. I would not see Hugh again but heard that he eventually finished the trail. I asked him about some of the hikers that I’d hiked with further south such as Bill Loeper, Chris Walker, and Martin Axe. Unfortunately, all of them were still behind us. As it turned out, no one that I had hiked with earlier on in the trip had yet passed through Port Clinton.

June 6, Allentown Shelter, 19.4 miles

The Appalachian Trail has a way of quickly putting someone in their place. Being eager to get hiking, I was on the trail by 6:00 that morning and ready to do some real hiking. I stopped to see whether the Windsor Furnace Shelter was standing, and confirmed that it was. Hugh, along with Rick and Frank had told me that it had burned down. A register entry from June 5 told me that two more end-to-enders were just ahead of me after spending the night at Windsor Furnace. While I was at the shelter Hugh passed me by (the shelter must have been on a side trail). There were lots of day hikers and weekenders at the Pinnacle and Pulpit Rocks. Taking in the great views, I could see why the vistas were so crowded.

But the good times didn’t last. The rain started to come down around 11 o’clock, and it was not long before I got wet. While at home on my break I had bought a new Kelty rain cover for my backpack. My old cover had fitted the Camp Trails model pack I had used before buying my Kelty Tioga, but the old cover did not extend far enough down to cover my sleeping bag. My new rain cover was “super-sized, as well as being Kelty green. This seemed like the right time to try it out.

In my haste to get out of the rain I got totally lost in Eckville, PA. I had to ask for directions twice just to stay on the trail. I ate lunch in a little shack designed as a school bus stop. I couldn’t resist stopping there because of the sign at the back that read “No Hikers.”

The rest of the hike to Allentown Shelter went slowly. The last 1.1 miles took me 45 minutes. Along the way I fell off a slippery rock and cut my hand in the fall. I didn’t notice the cut until I tried to push my glasses up and saw blood from my hand to my elbow. Luckily, there wasn’t any pain, and covering the cut with my bandana stopped the bleeding.

When I got to the Allentown Shelter all the other hikers had moved along. I was tired from a 19-mile day and decided to stay there. Eric Heinrich had left the register, so I wrote a bit extra for him. There were also some notes from Hope Mauran’s friends who were about three days ahead.  Some rain, a bad fall, getting lost, a lot of walking, but good views. I guess I made the most of the perils and pleasures of hiking in my first full day back on the AT.

June 7, Outerbridge Shelter, 18.4 miles

Of all the difficult places on the AT, Pennsylvania is the place hikers dreaded the most. The main reason was the constant rocky terrain which pounds at the hikers’ feet. Some registers became quite explicit about what hikers thought about the trail. One of the more original entries (from an Iowan) recommended relocating the trail though Iowa. There wouldn’t be any rocks, any mountains to climb, and the views would be endless, at least before the corn got too high.

Since most hikers got impatient with the rocks, their daily mileage increased, up to 20 or 25 miles per day in some cases. I did my bit with another 19 miler to Outerbridge Shelter. Without any major climbing, hiking in the Keystone State is mostly a matter of waiting until your feet give up. There wasn’t any way to hike quickly because the rocks are too varied in size to allow a hiker to get in a good rhythm. Just to avoid spraining an ankle you have to stare at the tread all the time. Then there are places like “the Cliffs” where you end up hopping from boulder to boulder. Those sections of rocks generally had good views to compensate for your efforts. The Cliffs are the place pictures in the two-volume book about the AT edited by Hare with the caption “The trail gets rocky in Pennsylvania.”

The two volume AT book edited by Hare.

When I read in the guidebook that I would pass by Bake Oven Knob I expected another unrecognizable bump on the ridge. But the Knob was marked with a painted rock, just so I wouldn’t miss it.

I was lucky to have hiked so well all day. Both my back and right hip were still stiff from my long hike the day before. My boots and socks were also wet from the prior day’s rain and from the wet grass during the morning hiking. To add to the fun, all the trail registers carried warnings about all the copperhead snakes along the trail. I was not disappointed to miss them all.

Because of my early start I arrived at Outerbridge about 3 PM. I spent the afternoon writing thank you notes for my graduation gifts. For dinner I tried a Speedy Chef Chicken Stew dinner that was given to me by one of the local outdoor shops. It was delicious. I had been eating mostly Mountain House freeze-dried dinners, but Speedy Chef put those to shame. “It had huge pieces of chicken which tasted like the real thing. And the flavor was in no way enhanced by the pungent odor of a newly creosoted shelter.”

June 8, Leroy Smith Shelter 17.2 miles

Lehigh Water Gap is one of the most barren, ugly places along the trail. It wasn’t one of those bright cheery places you make a point to pass by in the morning to start your day off right. I’d heard the climb out of the gap was rough, and for once the hype was right. It took a steep, sheer climb up and around boulders to get out of the valley. The ridgetop looked like a scene from a disaster film. There was no vegetation, just a jumble of rocks. The landscape reminded me of New Hampshire, except that just down the ridge were the trees, bushed and rocks of a normal landscape. It turned out the cause was a copper (This actually was the site of Palmerton Zinc Smelter) smelter whose emissions had killed off the vegetation for a long way down wind.

My diary for the day reads more like something for a track meet. There is talk of averaging 2.5 mph over easy stretches, and hopes of getting my speed to 3 mph. My daily average for the trip so far was 15.1 miles, not counting my days off. (I think much of my interest in “meeting” other thru hikers was also competitive, and I wanted to be considered one of the fast hikers.)

Crossing an unnumbered highway I developed a case of déjà vu. This new section of trail was maintained by the Delaware Valley Chapter of the Appalachian Mountain Club, which used the same signs that the AMC used in the trailheads in New Hampshire’s White Mountains. This was a welcome sign that I was making progress, and getting closer to my home turf in the Whites.

Due to my own neglect, I only had packed only a quart and a half of water for a full day of walking in the heat (Was full summer on its way?). I know some hikers could get through a full day with only a quart, but I was used to chugging down about half a quart any time I stopped. Luckily Leroy Smith Shelter, my residence for the night had plenty of water. I was lucky to never run out of water on the trip. (In 1976 it was common practice to drink untreated water from creeks and springs. I never treated water on the trip, though I tried to use tap water whenever I had the chance. I never contracted Giardia or any other water born illness on the AT, and don’t know of any other thru hiker of that era who did. While it was possible in 1976 to drink untreated water, by the early 1980s when I moved to Oregon, the dangers of Giardia were better understood, and I began using a water filter in the backcountry.)

June 9, Delaware Water Gap Hostel, 20.5 miles

Out of Pennsylvania at last. I hiked over 20 miles to the town of Delaware Water Gap, PA. For me it was a case of getting up early and walking hard all day. I was on the trail at 6AM. The rocks of PA didn’t let up, except for a few merciful stretches of dirt road.

Despite having my head down all day I saw one deer and a whole lot of toads. This was my first deer sighting since Shenandoah NP. I couldn’t figure out the toads. They just hopped around the trail, apparently trying to see how close they could come to the bottom of my boots.

I passed a group of five girls near Fox Gap. They had been hiking for all of 15 minutes and nearly passed out when I told them where I had started. I guess we all need an ego trip every once in a while.

The Kirkridge Shelter was the last one before New Jersey. The register there was good. There were many entries warning south bounders to turn back while there was still time. Almost every entry mentioned the rocks, but there were a few horror stories of the rocks in NJ also.

I had ample opportunity to check out NJ closely. Mt. Minsi, the last PA highpoint, had a great fire tower with views way down the mountain chain. Who would have ever thought that I’d be so glad to hike in New Jersey. 

View from Minsi Firetower.

Another group of women hikers recommended a place called the Mountain House in the Water Gap, so I dropped my pack there. It was right on the trail so I could not resist. My first stop was the Post Office, which luckily was still open.

While carrying my package up to the hotel I approached two thru-hiker types coming up the street. I knew who they were from tracking the registers, but before I could talk, one yelled, “You must be Hiram Rogers.” I admitted my guilt and asked who was Buddy Koonce, and who was Tim Line? I had been just behind the pair since Port Clinton and had been wondering if they would ever slow down.

Buddy and Tim were also staying at the Mountain House, so we walked up together. Both guys were from Knoxville, TN (My current hometown, but that’s another story), and the pair started the AT about a week after me. They had met most of the same hikers that I had, and had even hiked with Bill, Chris, and Martin for a while.

The three of us went to dinner at a local coffee shop with another hiker, Mark McCormick, who in ten days would head up to the NY-CT line and then hike to Maine. Although there was a good backpack shop in town, I still couldn’t find the right pair of boots. Luckily, my damaged boot was not getting any worse.