By KEVIN CULLEN
Commercial-News
November 05, 2008 11:32 pm
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It was my idea of a real vacation: two days exploring Chicago; two nights on the train; five nights in the woods; 50 miles of backpacking; day hikes … even two nights with transients. All told, 10 blissful days without hearing a single lie or distortion from either presidential candidate.
What a country!
I just got back from my fall backpacking trip to the red and golden mountains of western Maryland. I’ve been on longer hikes, in wilder locations, but this trip was a real adventure. Variety, as they say, is the spice of life, and last week was chockful of variety.
Friday, Oct. 24. I board Amtrak for Chicago, wearing hiking clothes, hiking boots, and toting a backpack packed with my sleeping bag, hammock, extra clothes, food and everything else I think I’ll need for my walk in the woods. Chicago is always a treat for me. I walk along the lake, I walk along the river, I eat lunch at Pizzeria Due, and I visit the Chicago History Museum. I saw the bed that Lincoln died in for the first time when I was seven years old. I have returned to it several times since, and it still moves me deeply. No one can possibly imagine how different the world might be if the life of that great man had been spared.
Saturday, Oct. 25. After a night on the train, curled up across two coach seats, I reach Harpers Ferry, W. Va. The station is only a block or so from the spot where John Brown stormed the federal arsenal in 1859, hoping to arm the slaves and start an insurrection. But I have no time for sightseeing; it’s raining hard and I have 7 miles to hike to get to the first shelter. I cross a footbridge into Maryland. The first 3 miles of the trail are flat, and parallel the Potomac, then there’s a gentle climb. Not long after reaching the shelter, it stops raining. I cook my noodles, pitch my hammock, and fall fast asleep.
Sunday, Oct. 26. A picture perfect day, blue sky, sunny, the forest shimmering red, gold and orange. Mile after mile, with every footstep, I feel thankful. I am surprised to find a big tent and 20 people at the Rocky Run Shelter. They are members of the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club, celebrating the restoration of the 68-year-old log shelter, constructed by the Civilian Conservation Corps. It’s native, harmonious and beautiful in its own modest, homespun way. I thank the volunteers for their good work, and eat a slice of chocolate cake.
Monday, Oct. 27. I hike through Washington Monument State Park, where farmers built a monument to Washington in the 1820s, then proceed to Annapolis Rocks, a big outcropping with top-of-the-world views of the valley below. It turns cold and windy, but I spend the night warm, dry and comfortable in my little tent hammock.
Tuesday, Oct. 28. A blister that developed the first day — thanks to those wet socks — is starting to really hurt, so after 25 miles, I begin to make my way back to Harpers Ferry. I run into a young man nicknamed “Hollywood.” This year, he hiked the entire 2,200-mile Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine, and now he’s hiking back to Georgia. He’s a hiking machine, often doing 30 miles a day. I eat dinner inside the Rocky Run Shelter, then set up camp at my old spot on the ridge. I hear weird sounds in the woods; there are still black bears in the area, so I suspend my food bag from a tree limb with a long piece of nylon cord. The wind howls all night, and I wonder if the limbs above me will stay securely fastened. They do.
Wednesday, Oct. 29. I stop at Gathland State Park, where “Gath,” a famous Civil War correspondent, built his country estate in the 1880s. His stone house is still there, as is his “War Correspondents’ Arch” monument, and the ruins of his once-magnificent stone barn. The place is full of history and ghosts, because a Civil War battle was fought on this very ground. I continue to the Edward Garvey Shelter, and take a spot on the second floor to escape the wind. Unable to get comfortable on the floor, I finally hang my hammock from the rafters, and fall fast asleep.
Thursday, Oct. 30. A gorgeous autumn day. The Potomac sparkles in the sunshine, and every tree is a magic lantern of color and motion. The walk into Harpers Ferry is so breathtaking that I hate to see it end. I check into a hostel on Washington Street but I find that I’m the only hiker there; all the other guys are transients, staying for weeks or months for $10 a night. All four are nice fellows, friendly and welcoming. There’s a shower, a bed and a stove, so I’m happy. It feels great to get clean, shave, ditch the pack and explore Harpers Ferry. I feel like I’m walking on air.
Friday, Oct. 31. I spend the day walking all over town. Harpers Ferry is a national park, filled with buildings from before the Civil War. Its location has always been of interest and importance. It sits where the Shenandoah and Potomac rivers merge and break through the Blue Ridge. Rocky cliffs surround it, and the streets are as steeply pitched as those of San Francisco. I stop at a little café, and have the biggest, best egg salad sandwich ever.
Saturday, Nov. 1. I walk along the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal Trail, which runs between the wide, rock-strewn Shenandoah and the remains of the abandoned canal, following the towpath where thousands of mules once tugged the canal boats. The weather is gorgeous, again, and I meet lots of day hikers and bicyclists. Many are foreign tourists, almost giddy with excitement; they don’t have such fall scenery in Japan, Germany or France, after all. The stone canal locks, built in the 1830s, are still intact, reminders of one of the great engineering projects of its day. I’m surrounded by history and superb natural beauty, only an hour, by train, from downtown Washington, D.C. That afternoon, I say goodbye to my new friends at the hostel, and catch my train for Chicago.
Sunday, Nov. 2. Downtown Chicago, on a Sunday morning, is pretty empty. I attend Mass at St. Patrick Church, the oldest church in the city and one of the few that survived the Great Fire of 1871. It’s made of sandstone and yellow brick, and decorated in the Celtic style to reflect its Irish roots. I feel at home there, connected to all the Pattys and Bridgets who once filled its pews. I sit in Millenium Park, read a book, walk up Michigan Avenue and State Street and visit the Chicago Cultural Center (the old Chicago Public Library). There, I stand in awe inside the Tiffany-designed Reading Room. Its skylight was recently restored, and the space is one of the glories of the city. Later, I catch my train, finally getting home at 10 p.m.
I’m back home now, happy to be with my wife, daughter, pets, washing machine, car, TV set, and all the other trappings of everyday life.
But I know I’ll long remember late October 2008, when the woods and mountains of western Maryland put on a show just for me.
Danville native Kevin Cullen is a former Commercial-News reporter. Reach him at irishhiker@aol.com.
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