July 17 – The Heat, the Hike, and the Ultimate Slushie Quest
July 17 – 15.8 miles, 2844 ft gain
We wake up at Sola and start to pack around 7 am. The pastor comes down with coffee a while later and we all chat. We’re having a good time and time is flying; we probably don’t leave until 9:10. As we’re leaving, we run into Big Sticks; he’s checking out the church nearby. We stop to chat. He’s looking for the hostel. We tell him where it is, but that it’s closed until 4 pm. He heads there anyway, hoping he can take a shower. We later hear from somebody else that they were refused a shower the night before, so we don’t think he’ll succeed. But we hope so; it’s been super hot and gross, and a shower would make the day better. There is no other place in town that’ll help with a shower, and the next place will be at least 30 miles away. So we’re hopeful for him.
We roadwalk out of town; it’s flat, and cars usually give us some space. When We get back onto the trail and immediately run into Teaberry. We chat for a bit, then hike on. Then the trail becomes a road walk near a barn.. We think the barn sells water to hikers, but trail angels, another thru-hiker, his wife, and their dog Couqui live along the roadwalk and welcome thru-hikers onto their property to refill water, charge devices, and have a cold beverage from the fridge. They also have a ring of chairs in some shade for us.
First, it’s just us and one other hiker. But soon, Teaberry joins, as do some familiar faces I haven’t seen since before Damascus—around the Mountain Harbor Hostel and the weeks after that. It’s Matt, Mongoose, Tinder, and their group, which picked up Stealth, and a guy I haven’t met yet. Matt’s calves are just huge. They talk about their biggest day, which was 34 miles. I’m impressed. That’s a crazy big day for a large group. I know Tramily Vacation recently told me they tried a 30-mile day, but only some of them made it. We explain that we skipped PA, and they tell us not to go back for it. That it was terrible and totally sucked. We hear them, but we know we have to go back. They’re all heading to a movie theater tonight in Warwick. It’s a hitch off the trail, but the drive-in movie is free to hikers; they just have to pay for a microphone if they want to listen. That’ll cost $5. Otherwise, they can tent and stay there for free. Concessions and running water, yay! It’s going to rain tonight, possibly badly.
We opt against the movie and decide to get a hotel instead. The closest hotel is sold out, so we end up at the Quality Inn. It turns out to be a good choice. It rains intensely overnight—1-3 inches. The weather report warns of imminent flash flooding, and the movie is canceled. They’ll all end up in hotels.
The female homeowner brings out the dog as folks are getting ready to leave. The dog is an immediate star, getting so much love. We hear the story that the pup used to be a Puerto Rican street dog and came to them knowing some tricks, most of which are how to yogi food from people. We find the pup lots of love while chatting. But soon, we need to head off too. The next section of the trail goes around a wildlife refuge. It’s completely exposed and just scorches in the midday sun. There are some benches, but really, it’s just a long flat slog. I look for birds as we hike and see at least a dozen species, including swans, and hear a dozen more. I wish I had my camera, but that is a hobby for another time.
We are relieved to re-enter the woods; we know an 800+ foot steep climb awaits, but we just want to be back in our precious green tunnel. Teaberry is snacking at the bench right as the trail reenters the woods. We say a few quick words and move on.
We slog up the hill in the heat. The shade helps, but it doesn’t stop us from literally dripping intensely with sweat. It’s slow going. It’s so hot that we’re quick to overheat. I take short breaks to let my heart rate and body temp come down before moving forward. We pass a shelter, but we know it doesn’t have water, so we hike on. Flamethrower reports that bears would make her climb better; I tell her I texted them all, but they don’t want to come out in this heat. We have 300 more feet to climb. I try panting like a dog to expel heat; I don’t know if it really helps. But I get to the top; Flamethrower isn’t far behind. We see some old cars rotting deep in the woods and go to investigate—and also to pee.
A few minutes later, we’re met by Teaberry. He seems oddly happy to see us and be near us. We quickly understand why when he relates a story about an encounter he JUST had with a mama bear and her two cubs. He encountered them on the trail, and they fled up the mountain in the direction of the trail, so he kept coming up. The mama bear didn’t like that and eventually bluff charged him, getting within a dozen feet. Flamethrower is jealous of his encounter, and I just regret missing the photo opportunity.
Soon, Teaberry is recovered and continues on the trail ahead of us. By this point, we don’t have cellphone signal but can hear nearby thunder. We hike forward to a viewpoint, get signal again, and see a large red storm cell just south of us. It’s going to miss us. We might get some rain. And ultimately, we do. But it’s fairly light, and in this heat, it’s very refreshing.
We hike on. We’re looking to get to Heaven Hills before it closes for an apple cider slushie and some cider donuts. We need to move. We climb down the hill and are met by two obstacles: (1) a lot of fresh blowdowns. I clear the smaller ones from the trail, and (2) slippery mud from the rain.
Mud + slick + blowdowns are a bad combo, but we press on. I tell Flamethrower I won’t hold back; I’m getting to that store and will buy her a slush right before they close if necessary. She sticks close despite the conditions. Once we get down, I see a sign warning us about how hard the section we just completed was. Thankfully, the next section is the boardwalk. A 3-foot wide section of well-maintained boardwalk is damp and sometimes slick, but we’re booking it. I pause to talk to a guy with an AT 2200 miles shirt, but it’s just a shirt; he isn’t closely connected to the trail and hasn’t thru-hiked.
My foot is on fire by this point. It wasn’t terrible earlier in the day, but it gets worse as the day wears on. It almost feels like it’s broken across the middle. It’s screaming. A short break on a bench resets the pain threshold, and I can hobble on. I slow down, but I want my slush before we climb the next mountain.
We get off the boardwalk; it’s pretty much flat, but it’s slick and muddy. My feet get covered in mud through one section, then I get up on some planks/boards. I slide all over the place for my first few steps as the mud comes off my shoes. I’m passed by a SOBOer. I say hi but don’t stop to chat, I have to get to the slushie.
I pass the railroad tracks. I’m sure I’ll hit a train that’ll delay me, but I don’t. Then I’m at the field… the field with the cows. The sign warns hikers not to approach the cows. This is basically a boss fight for me. I don’t want to approach the cows. I want to hide from the vicious cows after that horror show at mile 528 charged me 2x in the night. Thankfully, the cows are hiding in a corner of the field, and I walk through it unbothered.
I keep my eyes behind me to see Flamethrower emerge, but I don’t see her. I pass an intersection. The cars actually stop for me. I get inside. I throw off my pack, grab my money. They close in 20 minutes. I want my slushie. And I get it. So now the waiting begins. I tell them my friend is coming but if she doesn’t make it, I’ll just buy the drinks for both of us. I wait and wait and wait, I also shop, I get 6 cider donuts and look at the fruit and cheese. The fruit I want to eat needs a few more days to ripen, and the cheese is too big. I add an apple crumb cake to my purchases and keep waiting.
I text Flamethrower, ‘where r u?’. She tells me she’s ‘not approaching the cows.’ I breathe a sigh of relief and excitedly tell them she’s almost there. I’ve been entertaining folks with hiking stories. And talking about how I got there on one foot. Apparently, another hiker noticed I was limping earlier in the day. By the time I had arrived, I was moving so fast without a break, I was very much grimacing with every step. The pain was almost too much to keep me going, but I would have broken down and cried had I missed the slushie—sometimes things just keep you going, and I’ve been waiting for this thing for 20 miles. By the time Flamethrower arrived, the foot was calming down again. I hope I didn’t injure it worse.
We drink our drinks and pack the donuts and pie. We decide to hike up to the next road before the storm hits. It’s 3 miles and 1100 feet of gain. The slushie makes it bearable. We arrive and get lucky; a lady driving stops to ask us where we’re heading. She says she’s going that way and to hop in. She doesn’t even open her windows to avoid our stink. We get dropped off about 20 minutes later. We actually pass Heaven Hills and the trail again on the way to town, and now I see that the cows are standing up and are on the trail. I hope nobody else needs to cross that field tonight.
We get to the hotel and see a few restaurants nearby. We get checked in then lazily use the elevator to get to the second floor. We’re drenched from rain and sweat. I want to shower, but Flamethrower insists we order food first. We order a pizza, a caprese salad, and loaded French fries. I lay in the tub. The pizza arrives before I emerge. Flamethrower is too busy eating to see my text about handing a slice through the door, so I actually have to surface before I eat—my life is just too rough. I dress in a toga (I stripped a sheet off the bed before I came into the bathroom) and emerge.
Flamethrower isn’t surprised to see the toga as we’ve been doing this since we reunited. It’s just so much easier and more comfortable to toga after a shower. I move too much in my sleep to go to bed in the toga; I’d totally wake up naked, and I’m not going to expose Flamethrower to have to see my giant ass. But Flamethrower sleeps fairly still and will still be dressed upon waking, so she can sleep dressed in her sheet. I’m a bit jealous. Anyway, thru-hikers, try post-shower sheet togas. They feel amazing. Also try tub food, if your compatriots will pass some through the door. I’d like to take a moment to nominate togas, tubs, and tub pizza to the Maslow hierarchy of needs (right next to an internet connection).
Soon, the food is gone, and we’re heading off to sleep. Tomorrow will be another day. I text back and forth with Happy and Multi to see how they are doing. They’re making some distance even with the rocks on Painsylvania. I want them to catch up, but not too fast. I’d love it if we could all make it to Katahdin together, but I’m afraid they’ll want to go faster than Flamethrower and I can manage through the Whites, so I don’t want to squander our current ‘lead.’ Is rather them catch up closer to the end. And we’ll stand a chance.
This website contains affiliate links, which means The Trek may receive a percentage of any product or service you purchase using the links in the articles or advertisements. The buyer pays the same price as they would otherwise, and your purchase helps to support The Trek's ongoing goal to serve you quality backpacking advice and information. Thanks for your support!
To learn more, please visit the About This Site page.
Comments 1
The Three Ts of Bliss; a whole new area of psych.