GROSS

Before continuing on with this part of the adventure I really need to warn you that it's not for the faint of heart.  It is disgusting and might make you gag.  To my family... trust me and don't read this.  And also I love you.  You have now been warned.  If you continue... I do not apologize.

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            I was so close to the end of the dreaded rocky state of Pennsylvania where even locals can be found cussing at the jagged terrain.  I had a nice and easy day with mostly down hill or flat areas when I hiked into Pine Grove Furnace Park.  It was about the half-way point and a pretty big milestone for thru-hikers.  My water supply was done and I needed to grab some at the first chance I got.  I reached an open field with some hard structures with a modern technology known as "plumbing."  Right away I saw a water fountain and went to fill up.

            There was some green-ish residue on the spout of the fountain and I was curiously looking at it when I thought, "Eh, it has to be healthy if it's at a park."  I filled up and went towards the Pine Grove General Store.  I put my pack down on a picnic table outside of the store when an older woman walked up to open it.  Perfect timing!  I went in and ordered a burger sub.  While I was waiting on that I scoured the store for absolutely nothing healthy.  I took two trips to the counter while cradling snacks.

"Roughly" the half-way point!

            This is the place where thru-hikers try to join the "half-gallon club," which entails eating a half-gallon of ice cream at the half-way point.  I had a lot of miles to put on and knew it would slow me down with stomach pain so I "wisely" bought just a pint of vanilla.  After munching on a big bag of ruffles-like chips, I dove into the ice cream.  Half-way thru the pint I took a bite out of something nasty.  The bottom half of the ice cream was crystalized and looking pretty bad.  So what did I do?  I took two more bites because it's supposed to be ice cream damnit!

            Luckily the sub was brought out as I discovered the bad ice cream.  I didn't want to make a big deal out of it so I just trashed the ice cream and ravenously destroyed the sub.  As soon as chow time was over I stretched and limped off to the trail until my feet went numb again and I could jog.  I ran into a group of really cool guys at the Quarry Gap Shelters, but decided to keep going a few more miles to a road that took me to Fayetteville, PA.

            When I got to US Route 30 by Caledonia State Park I turned right and headed towards an Italian place to eat about .3 miles away.  Of course it was closed due to a family emergency.  Luckily my cell had service and I called a local motel to see about getting a ride to their place.  A size large woman in a beat up mini-van, white tank-top with yellow stains and really long chin hair pulled into the parking lot to pick me up.  In 3.2 miles of driving she decided to tell me her issues with her man while listening to country.  Awesome.  I focused on the soothing voice of Timmy McGraw.

            Upon arrival at the motel, I found that you could negotiate the price.  The man told me it was $53.  I told him, "No, you said $50.  You must be thinking about the tax," to which he replied, "No, it's $53 plus tax."  I just looked at him for a second and he finally said, "I'll cut you a deal and call it $50."  Thanks GUY.  After tax it ended up being about $53.  As I walked to my room, I saw the obese woman that gave me a ride in my peripheral vision going into her room where there was a toddler.  As the door was closing she lit a cigarette.  What?!  People still do that to kids?  I get to my "non-smoking" yet smoke drenched room, shower and walk to a Dollar General for some microwave Chef Boyardee for dinner.

            I'm finally back in my room icing my left foot and ankle, pigging out, watching Family Guy, talking to my girlfriend on the phone and then drift into a food coma.  The next morning I caught a ride with nasty pants and gave her some cash before taking off into the woods.  I kept running into the guys from the day before because of taking breaks and different paces.  We cheered each other on, but cheering each other on was about to take a turn for the worse.

            My stomach was churning from the moment I woke up, but I didn't pay much attention to it.  Shortly after passing one man I had to drop my pack and run into the woods with a trowel and eco-friendly baby wipes.  I dug a hole as quickly as possible to release whatever was in my belly that wanted out. 

"Hell yeah man, get it done!" laughed the hiker I had just passed.

            It's always nice to get encouragement as you're about to give birth to an angry demon child.  So there I was, bare-assed and squatting over the hole when it came out of me like a water pump.  I'm not even exaggerating.  Like a fucking water pump that decided to take control of when the fluids were coming out of my ass.  When I thought I was done... oh no, you're not done yet and out came another pour.  Holy shit, my legs were quivering.  What the hell was wrong with me?  I had to inspect the remnants.  New trail name: "CSI."

            First of all, I missed by about a foot.  Uncontrollable gushing.  Not even like a spray or splatter, but just a straight up pouring of GROSS.  Chef Boyardee was definitely there, no where near being properly digested as macaroni noodles were all up in the crime scene.  Everything else was being absorbed by the ground.  To the surrounding inhabitants of those woods, you're so welcome for that.  I wiped my burning ass, pulled up my pants and off I went.  Off I went and every 30 minutes I would repeat what had just happened.  Twelve times in all.  Was it parasitic giardia from the water fountain?  Was it the crystalized ice cream?  Or was it the son of a bitch Chef guy... Chef what's his name... BOYARDEE!  What has he done to me?!

            My ass was chaffed and bloody and even the wet wipes couldn't bring me pain relief.  Keep in mind that this is on top of the normal day-to-day struggles of putting in big miles.  I was obviously dehydrated, but every time I drank something... "Oh, time to water the plants again... from my butt!"  Is that poison ivy?  Aw screw it.  I even ran into the same group of guys at the Tumbling Run Shelters.  One of them kindly gave me electrolyte tablets to try and hydrate as another one was smoking weed from a bong he McGuyver'ed with a Smart water bottle.  Again, great guys.

            My wet wipe supply was running low, but luckily the privy at Tumbling Run had some toilet paper AND hand sanitizer... and also hundreds of insects.  I told the guys about the TP and sanitizer then hauled ass towards the Mason Dixon line.  I ran into them again on PA Route 16 where all 4 were hitching a ride to a mythical fried chicken place called, "KFC."  I just wanted to get to Pen Mar County Park, get to a pharmacy and find a place to stay so I chose not to go with them. I took a quick smoke break to collect myself on the side of the road before knocking out the last few miles.  The guys were picked up and they waved and cheered as they went to the glory of "KFC."  I was running on empty.  Charlie Mike.

            Pen Mar was atop a giant hill that overlooked a valley where a civil war battle took place.  It was a beautiful sunny day so I found a spot in the grass.  I sat down to call possible places to stay and just enjoyed a great view from in front of the grand stand that had an American flag in front of it.  'MERICA.  I was dehydrated and scared to eat or drink, so I smoked to quench both thirsts.  I had to enjoy this view... I had to take in the sight and enjoy not shitting angry, spicy piss out of my ass. 

Pen Mar County Park... Civil War battle took place in the valley there. #historynerd

After my little moment at the park, I got in touch with an awesome older lady from the "Nostalgic Dreams B&B."  She immediately picked my stank ass up and took me to a local pharmacy.  Best service ever.  Probably because they wanted to hurry me out so I didn't scare the locals with the stink and overall hobo look.  A woman asked me what I wanted.

"Wet wipes, snacks for nom noms and some anti-diarrhea pills... for just in case... you know," I murmured.

"Sure! Got it all. Just follow me. Oh yeah here's the best stuff!" she belted as I, for some reason, thought the whole store was curious about my bowel movements.

            I got back into the nice lady's truck, went to her house/B&B and met her husband, who offered me a home cooked meal.  I declined because I knew exactly what I needed.

"Do you guys have any pizza delivery places? I appreciate the dinner offer, but I am jonsin' for some pizza."

            They laughed and gave me the number.  Then the lady showed me my room, which they dubbed, "The America Room."  Everything was decked out with patriot pride and I may or may not have cried while getting a freedom boner.  I showered, took the anti water pump pills and tested them out with pizza and coke.  A war immediately broke out in my stomach that the pills ultimately won as I only leaked onto the local habitat once the next day.  Holy solid poo, how I've missed you.

This is no joke the "America Room" and I slept very patriotically dreaming of bald eagles that night.

Doctah Jones!

Snakes... I hold the same opinion as Indiana Jones when it comes to snakes and that isn't a very pleasant opinion of the slithery creatures that sometimes hold a venomous nibble.  I encountered several black snakes that are for the most part, harmless.  They do carry bacteria in their bite that can become hazardous to your health without treatment, but they are in no comparison to the dangers of a rattle or copperhead snake bite.  Both of which I had run-ins with.

Most little critters along the way in the north were fun to look at.  I saw bright red or orange lizards the size of my thumb, foot-long green garden snakes, black snakes, salamandors and even that territorial squirrel that screamed at me provides funny memories.  My first encounter with a rattler was actual while I was in the military helping out border patrol agents in New Mexico and Texas.  It was just a baby about 2 feet in length that somehow found its way to a concrete road.  It was way more scared of us than we were of it as it slithered down the street away from us shaking it's little ass off.  On the trail, I found myself in the snake's elements where they weren't quite as scared as that young rattler on the Mexican border.

I was in New Jersey approaching the Delaware Water Gap with temps in the high 70's and low 80's when I unknowingly waltzed into rattler alley.  Who the hell thinks of New Jersey when it comes to rattle snakes?  Not THIS guy!  The rocks on the path were awful so I had to keep my eyes focused on the ground for EVERY SINGLE STEP.  It was mentally exhausting and frustrating.  This led me to become complacent to my surroundings, thinking all the dangerous stuff was back in the more northern states.

As my careful maneuvering turned into a temper tatrum stomp I would occasionally look up to enjoy the view from the ridgeline I was on.  Then I heard something I'll never forget.

"CH-KA, CH-KA, CH-KA, CH-KA, CH-KA, SSSSSSSSSSS, CH-KA, CH-KA.... CH-KA."

            My view went from the valley below to between my legs.  The rattler end of the snake was between my feet and how I didn't step on the bastard is beyond me, but it saved my life.  The rest of the body hooked around the front of my right foot and 4 feet behind me was the head of a very irritated rattle snake starring right at my calf muscle, which had become quite "meaty" by this point in my trek.  It was lined up for an easy strike!  For some reason I just kept moving, but at a much slower and careful pace.  The snake just looked at me and decided I was going to get a pass on that day.  After a few more seconds of it claiming territory by starring me down, it slithered off the path.

            The night before I made nice with an Australian and his American pal.  I knew they were behind me by about 10 minutes so I waited to warn them.

"Hey guys! There's a 4 to 5 foot rattle snake that I pissed off to the right of the trail.  It's half yellow and half black towards the rattle end," I hollared from about 50 feet away.

"Daaamn, thanks bro!"

            Charlie Mike.  That got my adrenaline going a bit and off I went, passing by people and warning them as they warned me of various monster rattle snakes in my near future.  The snakes aparently liked coming out onto the rocks when the sun was out to warm up from chilly nights.  Luckily that one was the only one I saw that day even though they were swarming the area at random times according to the many hikers that showed me pictures of snakes up to 6 feet in length.  I got lucky as hell that day as I literally ran into the Delaware Water Gap that bordered New Jersey and the dreaded rocks of Pennsylvania.  And no, the trail never touched Delaware.

            The only other venomous snake I saw was in Tennessee.  I had just made an intense climb and took a break.  I started back on the trail and went downhill very quickly.  It was early fall and the path was completely littered with multi-colored leaves, making great camoflauge for snakes.  My steps became big lunges with a good pace when I glanced down and saw a snake head pop up and hiss at me.  After about 5 feet I hit the breaks to see exactly what it was.  It was just a 2 foot copperhead with the distinct checkered markings.  Another near miss and yet another pass by a killer snake.  My luck had to be about up.  I guess as long as you don't actually step on the little guys, they won't attack?  In any case, I thank you... you nasty, slithery bastards.