Unstealthed [mile 2041.4; SOBO 1023]
Last night was so cold, and everything was so wet, that when I woke up I was sure the ground must be covered in snow. But… no. The snow came later.
COLD! The wind was savage and loud and relentless. My ear plugs couldn’t drown it out. I finally devised the Princess Leia sound control method: I tucked a pack of tissues over each ear, up under my buff. It kind of worked. Multi-use item!
But yeah. COLD! I woke up at 5:00 AM, and my psyche rebelled
. I could NOT force myself up. I finally packed it in and just stayed under the quilt until it was light—about 6:30. Two hours of hiking time wasted. But it’s the cold; it saps my willpower.
I listened to Miles Davis while I packed up. Loud Miles Davis. Miles knows how to drown out that damned wind.
I was on the trail at around 8:00 AM wearing everything, including my raingear as a windbreaker. My shoes were still soaked, my big gloves were soaked… not great. So I put baggies on my feet and used my little gloves, and I made a few lurching, whining miles.
It didn’t really get much warmer. But that wind! Like knives!
The scenery was much the same: bleak brown, now. Rocks. Campsites every mile (Pennsylvania’s fantastic for campsites).
And at around 11:00 the snow flurries started. Flurries, showers, wind-blown fluff… for the next three or four hours, it was winter. Gray skies and spitting snow.
The one thing I was looking forward to today was that I was going to hit the Horse-Shoe Trail trailhead, where my friend Pflug and her hiking partner Joan buried something for me.
And eventually I got there. Trail magic! A note and a couple of kisses, which I DEVOURED. Thanks, guys! That made my day. And congratulations on finishing the Horse-Shoe!
After that… brrrrr. Still windy. Like knives! I made it a mile so I’d be 20 from Duncannon, then stopped here.
I hope this wind dies down!
Sorry for the shortish entries lately. Juice has been an increasing problem in the cold, so I’ve been handwriting entries. My fingers just don’t work well when they’re icicles.
T minus two weeks! The last time I said that, it was February.