CKT Trip Report--Day 1

“TR—Chuck Keiper Trail: Western Loop
Participants: Pennsy, Paule, Richb, spindle, calmwater3, no_granola
Dates: 9/16-9/18
Distance: 30 miles??


Day 1

Headed out to the trailhead on Friday morning but got there a bit late due to some traffic adjustments—stupid detours. I pulled into the parking area right behind spindle. The rest of the crew was already there. We took a moment to meet everyone then shouldered our packs and headed off on yet another PA adventure . . .

The crew of six hikers fell into line and started out across the road and down the trail. My legs were screaming at me after about ten minutes—the first uphill march always sucks for me, even if it’s an easy one. For an instant I couldn’t help wondering: “Why do I do this to myself?” The immediate and unwavering answer shot back: “Because it’s fun!” So I trudged on, a common foot soldier in out little scouting party.

The cool, seventy-five degree weather would normally have been very welcome after the oppressive heat and drought of summer, but we were fortunate enough to have a stifling anvil of humidity sweep in and keep us from getting too comfortable. It wasn’t too bad at first as we spent a couple of miles dropping down into a hollow after the initial short climb. And then we hit the first big hill. I think that may have been the toughest stretch of the hike for me. It seemed like we were never going to hit the top, forever plodding and getting nowhere, and I finally had to stop and take a break. Pennsy and spindle pulled up and sat for a few minutes too. Pennsy wasn’t feeling so hot so I threw chocolate at him and hoped for the best—that trick usually works for me with women, but it didn’t seem to do the trick this time. I thought Richb was going to leave us in the dust at this point. He tackled that hill like a trooper: never stopped and never looked back. I believe paule was right behind him.

After a brief respite the three of us hopped back to it and finally came out on level ground up high. The trail crossed a meadow approaching a road and everyone threw down their packs. LUNCHTIME!!! We snacked and chatted a little; although, I found myself a bit preoccupied with the praying mantis that had become enamored of my waist pack. After lunch Pennsy still wasn’t feeling well so he decided to bail at the road, which was only about 50 yards off. So we loaded up and got on the move.

At the road we stopped to bid Pennsy farewell. And as he started out toward the lot we heard sparkly musical horn and a little red pick up truck came up the road and barreled to stop beside us. The driver was a big burly guy who wanted to know all about our business. We talked to him long enough to learn that he’d never been down to the fish dam because his friends were disinclined to haul his far ass out if anything should happen. Spindle, kind soul that she is, was suave enough to beg a ride for a friend. So Pennsy hopped in the truck and that was the last we saw of him. Being the deeply disturbed soul that I am I mused aloud, “Then there were five and Pennsy was somebody’s #&%!$.” The whole situation had a very Dueling Banjos feel to it, and all I could think of were the horrors might befall Pennsy down by the fish dam. The event invoked series of disturbing images in my mind that would prove to haunt me for the entire trip, but Pennsy was gone and his fate was out of our hands. So we hiked on.

The trail cut away from the road shortly and we were dodging bear scat once again. We followed the side of a ridge and dropped down until we were moving parallel to a small run. It was reassuring to hear the sound of running water, being that I was still a little paranoid after last weekend’s hike on the AT, where several springs and streams that normally pack a good flow were bone dry. It was also nice just because I love walking beside a stream.

We stopped for a break where the trail crossed the creek and I must have drank a quart and half of water before I soaked my head with cold water. The humidity combined with the exertion had kept us sweating pretty hard and it felt good to stop and relax, especially since we were getting ready to head back up.

The hill turned out to be a #&%!$ and a half. But we finally made it to the top and wandered around in a field of ferns before the trail became a short road walk ending at a hunting cabin. We took a break here and got to chatting, enjoying the bit of sun that had broken through a hole in an otherwise overcast sky. Perhaps we were getting a bit too comfortable, but a gentle whispering rumble of thunder way off in the distance reminded us that we were up high and still a couple of miles from our intended camp site.

The walk down to camp was a pretty easy grade, which was fortunate because the track was narrow and cut into the side of the hill with a nice drop down the slope to the left. I lost my balance at one point and opted to fall right rather than trying to stay on my feet and risking a plunge into the green leafy abyss. We finally made it to the campsite just as the rain was starting and we dropped our packs just in time to enjoy a solid soaking downpour. We’d stayed ten minutes too long at the last break . . .”

“Thanks, excellent detailed report of the first day of the trip.”

“I tend to be a bit long-winded in my TRs. I blame lilmountainmadness for that!!

When I get the whole thing done I'll slap it up on a forum somewhere . . .”