No, Thanks!

Today is Friday, June 28, and I am at the Doyle Hotel in Duncannon, Pennsylvania. So I woke up this morning at the Quality Inn in Carlisle, which is right on the highway, adjacent to several truck terminals. So there's not a lot of activity around there from a tourist or even just a visitor perspective.

I went to the hotel breakfast at 6:30, and I saw another thru-hiker there, who I think I met roughly a week ago, closer to the Maryland/Pennsylvania border. I don’t remember his name offhand. Anyway, he explained that he’s staying at the hotel for a night or two, because he was out in the storm that came through on Wednesday night. It was very severe and knocked down a lot of trees, and he hit his head on a few fallen branches before deciding that he needed a break from the trail. So I’m feeling very fortunate that I was at the Quality Inn on Wednesday and Thursday nights and not out in my tent. [Wife note: There were a number of tornadoes across Pennsylvania over the course of a few days that week. Pretty scary.]

I got a really good chance to relax and get my feet in a little better condition before leaving this morning. I was back on the trail at about 7:40 a.m., and I had about a half-mile walk from the hotel back to the AT along the highway. Thankfully, the shoulder was quite wide, so that wasn’t too bad. I’d planned to do just over 17 trail miles today, which would at least get me to the outskirts of Duncannon. My new shoes felt good — definitely better than my boots — and the hiking was pretty easy in the beginning, when the trail went through some low land in the Cumberland Valley.

So it was nice to walk through farmland, which was pretty flat, and then in the woods a bit, where the terrain was also relatively flat. That made the first 6 miles or so very easy hiking. But then, I was back in the hills and hiking up some inclines and getting a little bit of a view, which was nice in a different way.

Not far into that section, I came to a road crossing, where someone had left a cooler. And the last random cooler I’d seen on the trail had been completely empty, so I approached this one with a little bit of hesitation, because I didn’t want to get my hopes up too high.

But I’m happy to report that there was still plenty of Trail Magic to be had — Gatorades and bottles of water and little pouches of fruit smoothies. There was also a large 2.5-gallon container of cool spring water so hikers could fill their water bottles and not have to filter anything.

So I did a little bit of a happy dance, chugged a 20 oz Gatorade, had an apple strawberry fruit pouch, and filled my water bottle with chilled spring water. So whoever you are who left that there, thank you very much. That was incredibly helpful and very welcome. Those kinds of acts of generosity are very, very appreciated by all the hikers.

At that point, I entered the the woods, and I think that officially marked the end of trekking through the Pennsylvania farmlands. The trail headed up fairly steeply from there, and I think that was where Rocksylvania really began. The trail was definitely quite rocky and steep.

The miles actually went pretty quickly, and I’m sure the terrain being mostly flat in the beginning helped, but I also think my new footwear had something to do with it. My feet felt a lot better today. I mean, there's no magic pill that's going to immediately reduce all the soreness and blisters I built up while hiking in my old boots, but the early returns on these Hokas are certainly very promising. It made me think about that Nike advertisement from the ’80s. I think the tagline was “It's gotta be the shoes.”

Since I was able to fill up my water bottles at the Trail Magic spot, I didn't necessarily have to worry about relying on the water sources that were available along the trail, which turned out to be a good thing. Even though the recent storms were pretty intense, the water sources still weren't overly promising. So I was quite thankful that I’d been able to fill up when I did.

Probably about 11 miles into the day, I stopped for a little snack, and then about a mile after that, I got to the Hawk Rock Overlook, where there was a nice perch that looked out over the town of Duncannon. There were some nice people there, and we chatted for a bit about hiking before I continued on.

I headed down what felt like sort of a cliff from there. It was very steep. But just a little less than 2 miles later, I was in the town of Duncannon and hiking among car dealerships and 7-Elevens and VFW outposts and the like, headed to the Doyle Hotel. Along the way, I passed a guy who was sitting on his front porch, wearing jeans, no shirt, and a hat with a big shamrock on it. I was on the other side of the street, but he started yelling at me, like, “Hey! Hey!”

 I said, “Yes?” And he was like, “Hey, come here!” I had no interest in going over there and asked him, “What can I do for you?” But he just yelled, “Come here!” again, a little more sternly this time, so I was just like, All right. He seemed like a reasonably harmless guy. So I crossed the road. He was clearly drunk, and he had this giant ashtray full of cigarette butts next to him. He asked me what I was doing, and I said I was hiking the trail. He looked at me quizzically for a few seconds and then said, “You need a shower?”

I mean, I suspect he was just trying to be nice, but… no, thanks. I explained to him that I was on my way to check into the Doyle, and he totally scoffed at that. He said he had “no love for the Doyle” and then just started mumbling incoherently. I took that as my cue to leave and get to the hotel, which was only about a block from where he was sitting.

When I got to the Doyle, it wasn’t overly clear where I was supposed to go to check in. There was just a bar on the first floor, so I went upstairs to try to find some sort of office or check-in window, but I couldn’t find anything like that. So I dropped my bag and went back downstairs to ask the bartender where I needed to go to check in. He said, “Right here.”

He looked at my reservation and walked away and was gone for a little while. When he came back, he said my room wasn't ready yet, which I thought was strange, because check-in supposedly started at 3 p.m., and it was 4:30. But he offered me a beer on the house while I waited, which was nice. I got a Natty Bo on draft. And I don't know whether I just remembered Natty Bo tasting better or maybe their draft lines were dirty, but it wasn’t the tastiest. Still, it’s the thought that counts, and I was thirsty, so I was more than happy to have it.

{Actually Natty Bo}

After I got into my room, the first order of business was taking a shower, and then I only needed a little resupply, so I went over to Kind of Outdoorsy, which is a nearby outfitter/hostel combo. They had a decent amount of stuff, but I'm very thankful that I didn't wait until I got here in Duncannon to get new shoes. I had originally planned to do that here, but S. had seen the outfitter on a few YouTube videos and said I should probably go into Carlisle instead, which ended up working out much better. So I just got a few items.

Just outside Kind of Outdoorsy, I noticed a sign for a craft brewery that was a couple doors down. And obviously, if there’s a craft brewery in the vicinity and it’s open and I have time, I’m going to go. It’s called the Lindgren Craft Brewery, and it looks like it’s in an old bank building.  

I ended up getting two flights so I could try most of their beers. They were pretty interesting. The beer was decent, but maybe a tad rough around the edges. Not bad, though. It was kind of homebrew tasting, but the brewers clearly have good intentions. One of the brewers was there, so we got a chance to talk a bit, and he took me on a quick tour of the brewery. They've got a nice 15-barrel setup, and it looked like a very good place to grow. He was very excited about it, so that’s great. I hope they do well.

Next, I went over to a place called The Pub, which was about a block away, to get dinner. I decided not to eat at The Doyle as I’d originally planned, because they seemed to be quite understaffed. The Pub is just a classic, old school dive bar kind of place, full of locals and decorations that look like they haven’t been updated since about 1978. It's retro to the max without trying, which was perfectly suited to what I was looking for. I got a Busch on tap with a Swiss patty melt, fries, and some fried mushrooms, and it was delicious. After that, I was too tired to do anything else other than go back to the room and pass out for the night.