Southern Maryland AT Hike (Episode 2 of 3)
Warning: This is long with around 15 photos. I've used cuts to shorten it.
Sa, 30 Apr 2011
I was the last one to get out of my tent on Saturday morning, but the fastest to pack everything up. (I had slept rather poorly, not having a camp pillow or anything to really substitute for one. Also, my sore shoulders did not like it when I would roll onto my side.) I said goodbye to Shutterbug and wished him the best on the trail. He was planning to hitchhike out to Boonsboro and resupply that morning.
We parted ways, and I headed south. It was before 8:00. I saw no one over the next mile, and it passed very quickly; I made good time. At Fox's Gap, where another section of the Battle for South Mountain occurred, I dropped my gear and cooked some oatmeal for breakfast on my stove. At this little field stood the Reno Monument, dedicated to the first corp commander to have died in the War, Jesse Reno. Reno was shot by snipers early in the battle and his last conversation is somewhat famous among Civil War historians:
Reno (to his friend General Samuel Sturgis in a very matter-of-fact voice): Hallo, Sam. I'm dead.
Sturgis: I hope it's not as bad as that!
Reno: Yes, yes, I'm dead. Goodbye!
The Monument is one of the first built for a fallen general in the war. Reno was extremely well-liked by his men, because he fought beside them in harm's way.
(While here, two trail runners passed, heading south up the ridge road to Lambs Knoll. They were the only ones to ever pass me going south. I felt the whole time like I was hiking the wrong way.)
After breakfast, I went a short distance up and back down to Rocky Run Shelter, crossing some powerlines along the way.
There were two shelters and a tent area here. A Boy Scout troop was just leaving when I arrived. I made my way down to the run, where the older of the two shelters was located. Here, there was a fun "porch" swing built.
I purified some more water at the spring, which flowed out of the ground near some mossy rocks and formed a stream flowing into another branch of the run. This was the first time I'd seen a real stream/run this trip. I always like to follow them and see where they go or come from, so I followed Rocky Run downhill.
I came to Park Hall Road. The run ran under the road into private property, so checking my map, I tried to figure out how I could connect up with it again. According to the map, the run should flow into Dog Creek (which in turn flows into Little Antietam Creek), and Dog Creek was just a quarter mile north near powerlines. So I walked up Park Hall Road to the lines. I didn't see any "No Trespassing" signs, and there was clearly a trail leading parallel beneath the lines and I could hear the creek, so I followed it. Sure enough, the path led right down to the creek, which had nice walking paths on each side of it. I began following the creek, but then I noticed that someone in camo was following me and calling something. I couldn't hear him over the water, so I figured it best to go back to meet him and see what he wanted. I assumed he figured I was lost. He was a turkey hunter, and, yes, he thought I was lost. I told him my story; he told me I was on private property. I informed him that I didn't know. He was very polite and friendly and even offered me a free ride back up to Reno Monument. However, after discussing options with him, it made more sense to us for me to just follow the powerlines back uphill to the top of the ridge again, where I knew the Trail to be.
That turned out to be the steepest climb yet, because I just went straight up the west side of the ridge, instead of switchbacking. I reached the AT again just as two NoBos passed me, giving me odd looks.
The next two miles composed a ~750-ft elevation change. After climbing up the side of the ridge (another 250 feet in elevation change) from Park Hall Road, this was exhausting. At about 1500 feet, shortly after crossing the access road from Reno Monument Rd. to the towers on Lambs Knoll, I caught up with three of the women I had seen at the campsite on yesternight (not Windsinger; she was a NoBo). They were surprised to see me, as I had left before them. We shared frustration at the never-ending incline we were on.
I continued on up along the ridge, to discover that the AT would not actually summit. Mad about this, I walked back a bit and followed an unmarked side trail up to the real summit of Lambs Knoll at 1758 feet. This is, I think, the highest point on the AT in Maryland. (Up here were three radio towers or something of the sort.)
I went back down to the Trail and it turned sharply west to hug the southern side of the Knoll. I arrived at White Rocks, a southern-facing overlook of the landscape of Maryland and into Virginia and West Virginia. I could even see some of the mountains in Shenandoah Park.
When I arrived, a contingent of hikers were sitting on the rocks eating lunch. They were from the Mountain Club of Maryland, a Baltimore-based hiking club that broke off from the PATC in 1934. I was told about how they run hiking trips at least three times a week over the state of Maryland and upkeep a small portion of the AT not covered by the PATC in both Maryland and PA, as well as other trails in MD. They shared yummy homemade cookies.
My lunch was Ritz crackers, peanut butter, and tuna fish - delicious! ...But everything is when one is hiking.
The same three women I passed arrived and came over to join me. We finally formally introduced ourselves. Rh., a.k.a. "Tick", and her sister R. were hiking the entire Maryland section over five days with their niece, Sh. (I forget the latter two's trail names.) This was their third section hike; they previously had hiked half of PA and the Northern Virginia/West Virginia portion from Harpers Ferry. We had a long, relaxing lunch, talking about the various foreign countries we had all traveled to.
Around 13:30, we set out again. After a quarter mile, the trail turned back south again. A blue-blazed trail connected here, and I followed it down to to Bear Spring Cabin, curious to explore. It was by now a beautiful but rather warm day, and I was hoping to cool off in a stream or creek if possible.
It was about a half mile to the cabin. When I was close, I came upon a couple out for a hike with their four dogs. They were staying at the cabin, which can be reserved through the PATC. It was a nice little place with it's own picnic shelter and wood stove. It would make a nice place to take sadeyedartist someday, I think.
The couple asked me to take their photo, which I did; then, I walked across a foot bridge to follow the blue-blazed trail further. My map claimed that it would end at Mountain Church Road by an historic church. On the way, I passed a pond that was part of someone's private property. Likewise, when I arrived at the vehicle gate, beyond which I could see what must have been Mountain Church Road, there were prominent "No Trespassing" signs, so I turned around and headed back. I found it odd that the blue blazes did not lead directly to the road.
On the way back uphill, I did find a deep enough portion of the stream to take a cooling and refreshing dip. I also found Bear Spring itself.
Back near where the Bear Spring Cabin Trail joins the AT, I took yet another side trail, the White Rocks Trail, which was a very steep (300-ft elevation change) eighth of a mile up over boulders to White Rocks. This climb drained me; I could hear my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest.
So now I was back at White Rocks and it was mid-afternoon. I still had seven miles to hike before reaching my shelter goal. I knew I had best start hiking.
I covered the next three miles within an hour, the trail descending gradually almost the entire time along the ridge south-southwest towards Crampton's Gap, the final of the three gaps involved in the Battle for South Mountain. I pulled off the trail to stop at Crampton Gap Shelter, because I wanted to refill my water.
The shelter was typical but nicely located right next to a stream. Here, I talked with a group of section hikers from Florida, who were seeing if the idea of a thru-hike would be enjoyable to them. There were a lot of Boy Scouts tenting in the area, but the area was also quite large and had lots of room. (In hind-sight, I should have camped here for the night.)
After getting water, I finished the descent to the Gap. Here, I entered my third state park of my trip, Gathland State Park.
Originally named "Gapland" by its founder George Alfred Townsend, a Civil War reporter who wrote under the pseudonym of Gath, this park contains many of the buildings he erected as part of his estate. In this park, a birthday party was going on, and I was offered hot dogs and hamburgers. I was surprised once again of the generosity everyone had towards backpackers.
It was a little confusing again here, as the "trail" crossed a field, picnic area, road, and parking lot before finally entering the woods again behind Gath's grave. Gath was not, by the way, buried in his grave. Sadly, when his wife died, he was heartbroken and ceased writing. He moved away to live elsewhere and became penniless by the time he died. The inscription above the empty mausoleum reads, "Good Night Gath"
I had three and three quarters miles left before my target shelter. The distance covered was mostly flat along the top of the ridge, but it was tiring. By now my feet and shoulders were quite sore, and I had run out of granola bars. I hiked for more than an hour without much for a change in scenery. (It did not help that two of the points of interest on the map - a memorial plaque of some sort and a crossing trail - never appeared.) Near the end, I did finally manage to catch up with Tick and Co., who saved the day by offering me a few granola bars. Here, we learned the "bad news" that two troops of Boy Scouts were staying at the shelter also. This meant that we would not likely find tent space.
Fifteen minutes late, after 18:00, I reached Ed Garvey Shelter. Sure enough, it was packed - so much so that some groups of hikers were tenting just off the trail. The shelter also appeared full. Tick and Co. arrived ten minutes behind me. Some of the Boy Scout leaders informed us that their was still room in the shelter in the loft.
Climbing up to the loft involved using the world's steepest ladder. Up top, we found why no one had claimed the spot yet. There was abandoned gear up there. We had heard about this stuff from Shutterbug. He had stayed here on the loft on Wednesday. We decided to investigate further. We found an odd mixture of really old and falling apart gear and brand new stuff. There was no backpack but only a duffel bag. There were alpine boot inserts but no boots, brand new climbing rope and a pick ax, toothpaste, half-eaten peanut butter, no sleeping bag, but a blanket reading "Do not remove from U-Haul." The weirdest thing was a newspaper from March 16th! (I agreed to stop by the ATC Headquarters on the way home and report it to them.)
I cooked myself a lot of spaghetti with Vienna sausages added in. Midway through, I realized I would need more water. I was not delighted to learn that the spring was half a mile down a steep switchback. What sort of shelter is a mile round trip from the water source? As an extra slap in the face, two large trees had fallen over the trail, which made matters even more complicated. But I had no choice. I jogged down to the spring, but it still took me 25 minutes to get back to the camp with my water so that I could finish my dinner.
We had a truly wonderful time around dinner talking and hanging out. Tick and Co. were great company.
It started to get really cold out, so I journaled and then went to bed. I slept even worse this night due to the cold - or perhaps because of the ghost of the U-Haul blanket thief....
Sa, 30 Apr 2011
I was the last one to get out of my tent on Saturday morning, but the fastest to pack everything up. (I had slept rather poorly, not having a camp pillow or anything to really substitute for one. Also, my sore shoulders did not like it when I would roll onto my side.) I said goodbye to Shutterbug and wished him the best on the trail. He was planning to hitchhike out to Boonsboro and resupply that morning.
We parted ways, and I headed south. It was before 8:00. I saw no one over the next mile, and it passed very quickly; I made good time. At Fox's Gap, where another section of the Battle for South Mountain occurred, I dropped my gear and cooked some oatmeal for breakfast on my stove. At this little field stood the Reno Monument, dedicated to the first corp commander to have died in the War, Jesse Reno. Reno was shot by snipers early in the battle and his last conversation is somewhat famous among Civil War historians:
Reno (to his friend General Samuel Sturgis in a very matter-of-fact voice): Hallo, Sam. I'm dead.
Sturgis: I hope it's not as bad as that!
Reno: Yes, yes, I'm dead. Goodbye!
The Monument is one of the first built for a fallen general in the war. Reno was extremely well-liked by his men, because he fought beside them in harm's way.
(While here, two trail runners passed, heading south up the ridge road to Lambs Knoll. They were the only ones to ever pass me going south. I felt the whole time like I was hiking the wrong way.)
After breakfast, I went a short distance up and back down to Rocky Run Shelter, crossing some powerlines along the way.
There were two shelters and a tent area here. A Boy Scout troop was just leaving when I arrived. I made my way down to the run, where the older of the two shelters was located. Here, there was a fun "porch" swing built.
I purified some more water at the spring, which flowed out of the ground near some mossy rocks and formed a stream flowing into another branch of the run. This was the first time I'd seen a real stream/run this trip. I always like to follow them and see where they go or come from, so I followed Rocky Run downhill.
I came to Park Hall Road. The run ran under the road into private property, so checking my map, I tried to figure out how I could connect up with it again. According to the map, the run should flow into Dog Creek (which in turn flows into Little Antietam Creek), and Dog Creek was just a quarter mile north near powerlines. So I walked up Park Hall Road to the lines. I didn't see any "No Trespassing" signs, and there was clearly a trail leading parallel beneath the lines and I could hear the creek, so I followed it. Sure enough, the path led right down to the creek, which had nice walking paths on each side of it. I began following the creek, but then I noticed that someone in camo was following me and calling something. I couldn't hear him over the water, so I figured it best to go back to meet him and see what he wanted. I assumed he figured I was lost. He was a turkey hunter, and, yes, he thought I was lost. I told him my story; he told me I was on private property. I informed him that I didn't know. He was very polite and friendly and even offered me a free ride back up to Reno Monument. However, after discussing options with him, it made more sense to us for me to just follow the powerlines back uphill to the top of the ridge again, where I knew the Trail to be.
That turned out to be the steepest climb yet, because I just went straight up the west side of the ridge, instead of switchbacking. I reached the AT again just as two NoBos passed me, giving me odd looks.
The next two miles composed a ~750-ft elevation change. After climbing up the side of the ridge (another 250 feet in elevation change) from Park Hall Road, this was exhausting. At about 1500 feet, shortly after crossing the access road from Reno Monument Rd. to the towers on Lambs Knoll, I caught up with three of the women I had seen at the campsite on yesternight (not Windsinger; she was a NoBo). They were surprised to see me, as I had left before them. We shared frustration at the never-ending incline we were on.
I continued on up along the ridge, to discover that the AT would not actually summit. Mad about this, I walked back a bit and followed an unmarked side trail up to the real summit of Lambs Knoll at 1758 feet. This is, I think, the highest point on the AT in Maryland. (Up here were three radio towers or something of the sort.)
I went back down to the Trail and it turned sharply west to hug the southern side of the Knoll. I arrived at White Rocks, a southern-facing overlook of the landscape of Maryland and into Virginia and West Virginia. I could even see some of the mountains in Shenandoah Park.
When I arrived, a contingent of hikers were sitting on the rocks eating lunch. They were from the Mountain Club of Maryland, a Baltimore-based hiking club that broke off from the PATC in 1934. I was told about how they run hiking trips at least three times a week over the state of Maryland and upkeep a small portion of the AT not covered by the PATC in both Maryland and PA, as well as other trails in MD. They shared yummy homemade cookies.
My lunch was Ritz crackers, peanut butter, and tuna fish - delicious! ...But everything is when one is hiking.
The same three women I passed arrived and came over to join me. We finally formally introduced ourselves. Rh., a.k.a. "Tick", and her sister R. were hiking the entire Maryland section over five days with their niece, Sh. (I forget the latter two's trail names.) This was their third section hike; they previously had hiked half of PA and the Northern Virginia/West Virginia portion from Harpers Ferry. We had a long, relaxing lunch, talking about the various foreign countries we had all traveled to.
Around 13:30, we set out again. After a quarter mile, the trail turned back south again. A blue-blazed trail connected here, and I followed it down to to Bear Spring Cabin, curious to explore. It was by now a beautiful but rather warm day, and I was hoping to cool off in a stream or creek if possible.
It was about a half mile to the cabin. When I was close, I came upon a couple out for a hike with their four dogs. They were staying at the cabin, which can be reserved through the PATC. It was a nice little place with it's own picnic shelter and wood stove. It would make a nice place to take sadeyedartist someday, I think.
The couple asked me to take their photo, which I did; then, I walked across a foot bridge to follow the blue-blazed trail further. My map claimed that it would end at Mountain Church Road by an historic church. On the way, I passed a pond that was part of someone's private property. Likewise, when I arrived at the vehicle gate, beyond which I could see what must have been Mountain Church Road, there were prominent "No Trespassing" signs, so I turned around and headed back. I found it odd that the blue blazes did not lead directly to the road.
On the way back uphill, I did find a deep enough portion of the stream to take a cooling and refreshing dip. I also found Bear Spring itself.
Back near where the Bear Spring Cabin Trail joins the AT, I took yet another side trail, the White Rocks Trail, which was a very steep (300-ft elevation change) eighth of a mile up over boulders to White Rocks. This climb drained me; I could hear my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest.
So now I was back at White Rocks and it was mid-afternoon. I still had seven miles to hike before reaching my shelter goal. I knew I had best start hiking.
I covered the next three miles within an hour, the trail descending gradually almost the entire time along the ridge south-southwest towards Crampton's Gap, the final of the three gaps involved in the Battle for South Mountain. I pulled off the trail to stop at Crampton Gap Shelter, because I wanted to refill my water.
The shelter was typical but nicely located right next to a stream. Here, I talked with a group of section hikers from Florida, who were seeing if the idea of a thru-hike would be enjoyable to them. There were a lot of Boy Scouts tenting in the area, but the area was also quite large and had lots of room. (In hind-sight, I should have camped here for the night.)
After getting water, I finished the descent to the Gap. Here, I entered my third state park of my trip, Gathland State Park.
Originally named "Gapland" by its founder George Alfred Townsend, a Civil War reporter who wrote under the pseudonym of Gath, this park contains many of the buildings he erected as part of his estate. In this park, a birthday party was going on, and I was offered hot dogs and hamburgers. I was surprised once again of the generosity everyone had towards backpackers.
It was a little confusing again here, as the "trail" crossed a field, picnic area, road, and parking lot before finally entering the woods again behind Gath's grave. Gath was not, by the way, buried in his grave. Sadly, when his wife died, he was heartbroken and ceased writing. He moved away to live elsewhere and became penniless by the time he died. The inscription above the empty mausoleum reads, "Good Night Gath"
I had three and three quarters miles left before my target shelter. The distance covered was mostly flat along the top of the ridge, but it was tiring. By now my feet and shoulders were quite sore, and I had run out of granola bars. I hiked for more than an hour without much for a change in scenery. (It did not help that two of the points of interest on the map - a memorial plaque of some sort and a crossing trail - never appeared.) Near the end, I did finally manage to catch up with Tick and Co., who saved the day by offering me a few granola bars. Here, we learned the "bad news" that two troops of Boy Scouts were staying at the shelter also. This meant that we would not likely find tent space.
Fifteen minutes late, after 18:00, I reached Ed Garvey Shelter. Sure enough, it was packed - so much so that some groups of hikers were tenting just off the trail. The shelter also appeared full. Tick and Co. arrived ten minutes behind me. Some of the Boy Scout leaders informed us that their was still room in the shelter in the loft.
Climbing up to the loft involved using the world's steepest ladder. Up top, we found why no one had claimed the spot yet. There was abandoned gear up there. We had heard about this stuff from Shutterbug. He had stayed here on the loft on Wednesday. We decided to investigate further. We found an odd mixture of really old and falling apart gear and brand new stuff. There was no backpack but only a duffel bag. There were alpine boot inserts but no boots, brand new climbing rope and a pick ax, toothpaste, half-eaten peanut butter, no sleeping bag, but a blanket reading "Do not remove from U-Haul." The weirdest thing was a newspaper from March 16th! (I agreed to stop by the ATC Headquarters on the way home and report it to them.)
I cooked myself a lot of spaghetti with Vienna sausages added in. Midway through, I realized I would need more water. I was not delighted to learn that the spring was half a mile down a steep switchback. What sort of shelter is a mile round trip from the water source? As an extra slap in the face, two large trees had fallen over the trail, which made matters even more complicated. But I had no choice. I jogged down to the spring, but it still took me 25 minutes to get back to the camp with my water so that I could finish my dinner.
We had a truly wonderful time around dinner talking and hanging out. Tick and Co. were great company.
It started to get really cold out, so I journaled and then went to bed. I slept even worse this night due to the cold - or perhaps because of the ghost of the U-Haul blanket thief....