Mid State Trail Backpacking Hike, July, 2009 by Daryl Warren

Of the six men who started at Penn Roosevelt State Park , only three finished, counting me. The scoop: Thursday we camped out at PRSP - a zero day. Because our plan was to do 14.8 miles on Friday, we were on the trail early - 6:56 a.m. The first six miles of trail were in half-decent shape. After crossing under US Route 322 it was a different story. Many times we had to guess where the trail was, and sometimes we were right. The laurel, especially, became a man-eating menace, grabbing, poking, tripping, and so on. It started raining at 2:00 p.m. and poured hard until about 4. With the brush at chest height and blocking the path, you can imagine how soaking wet we got, especially the leader (me).

Our destination campsite was at Panther Run, an intermittent stream. "Intermittent" was an improper term. Non-existent would more properly describe it. Our plan B was to continue on another .60 miles to the next water source. Arriving at this rocky, swampy place, now 15.4 miles from our point of origin, we were faced with another rather heart-wrenching decision. Three guys would have to set up ground tents on the rocks or in the swamp while the other three swung comfortably in their hammock tents, OR, hike on to the next possible camping area. We opted for the second choice. So, hike on we did. Another 2.9 miles later we merrily skipped into Big Poe Valley State Park . THE PARK WAS CLOSED! Undaunted, we checked the water fountain and, voila, it worked. With not a park ranger in sight, or anybody else for that matter, we commandeered the pavilion. After 18.1 miles of backpacking, and darkness closing in, our freeze dried meals were scrumptious.

Five of us set up our tents in the pavilion (actually three slept ON the picnic tables). Roger strung his Hennessey between two trees, where he contended with a long-lasting thunder storm that came blasting through at about 11 p.m. I know I'm stretching this out, but it's just so darn interesting, eh? Well, Bob Ulmer, our representative hiker from Elizabethtown , PA , had been more and more troubled by his bad knees. Something or other about ligaments, the ones on the outer sides of the knees. I forget what they're called. I appreciated the pain he was in because I've had that problem with my right knee occasionally. His became so bad he could not descend without excruciating pain. He'd try not to bend the one knee, putting all his weight on one leg and swinging, stiff-legged, the other. Our progress was very, very slow. To make a long story short (too late), when we resumed hiking on Saturday morning Bob decided to walk the road instead of the trail. That turned out to be a wise decision because the trail was extremely difficult with many rock fields, steep descents and, of course, ascents. The course was, by far, the most difficult I have hiked. Oh, did I mention the rattlesnakes. Two beautiful creatures; one very large black phase with nine or ten buttons and another yellow phase. We were warned of their presence when the black one rattled as we approached his rocky lair. The smaller yellow snake was hidden well enough that we were unaware of her presence until we spotted her under the protruding rock that one of the hikers was standing on.

If you're still with me, I'll continue with my prattle. If not, I'll continue anyway. Bob and Roger walked the road about four miles to the next state park - Poe Paddy State Park , where we caught up with them about noon. Bob could go no further. He was absolutely done. It was painful just to watch him hobble on level ground. Roger was having trouble with his feet and decided to opt out also. Because Bob had brought a friend with him from southern PA, he also said, "I'm leaving with Bob." They called the DCNR office and arranged a ride back to PRSP. The three remaining tough guys had a pow-wow. Pete and Brett were right on the edge of calling it quits, but they had one motivating factor: pride. Their cohorts back at Citizens National Bank, where they are employed, had chided them, saying, "You'll never finish the hike! You're both out of shape." Soooo, we decided to push on, with one change. We'd finish the hike TODAY! No camping out near a plush, cool stream, and resting up for a short six-miler tomorrow. Nope. We'll get 'er done now! Well, by this time is was 1:00 p.m. By my astute calculations, we had 11.2 miles to go. At my normal plodding pace we wouldn't be done until 7:40. That did not seem to be a deterrent, so off we went. With Brett in the lead we averaged 3.0 mph for the first four miles. That's before the trail started up. The four miles was basically on a rails-to-trails section. After that the MST returned to character with it's climbing of rock fields, traversing rock fields, and descending rock fields. And in between there were rocks. However, I must say, the trail was wonderfully maintained from Poe Paddy to Hairy John's, except for a few short sections.

My car was parked at Hairy John's and was thankfully not vandalized. I'd been hiking over 34 miles for two days in wet socks and shoes and my feet were a mess. I'm glad we didn't have further to go because I was starting a blister on the ball of my left foot. Plus, a "canyon toe" on the left big toe has left me with an ugly nail that will drop off after some weeks. All of this sounds like we didn't appreciate the MST. NOT! We had a memorable time and I'd do it again in a heart beat, except it'll be on a section I haven't yet hiked.

Daryl Warren is an active hiker and part of the Asaph Trail Club.

Searching For Silence by E.L. Berkowitz

The air is cold and burns the inside of my nose and lungs. The snow crunches under my boots and I wiggle my toes to keep them warm. I'm walking in between hemlocks and maples, looking for the place where silence begins. I stop and listen. I hear the snow falling on my jacket. I wipe my nose.

"Sniff"

For a few seconds I have thoughts about going back. The wood stove, my bed, the warm water heated by the big gas furnace in the basement. I shake my head and return to the snow. I've been walking for 4 hours. The sun would be over my head right about now. I imagine it through the flat, gray clouds and big flakes.

I'm sitting on my pad amongst old Hemlocks. My little stove hums and I see a wisp of steam escape the lid of my cook pot. Boiling water, hot water. I fill my cup with hot water and tea and sit back against the tree.

"Sip"

The tree is as quiet as the snow. I try to slow my breathing to match the tree's.

"Sip"

Footprints in the snow. A fox maybe.

"Sip"

He was here before me. This tree was here before the fox. The snow pulled from the oceans was here before the tree.

"Sip"

I am here. Searching for silence.

I'm approaching a body of water. I smell the moisture in the air. See patterns in the ice like winter orchids built slow through freeze after thaw after freeze. They sway with the windy ripples of a beginning. This is where I come to feel. To find. This is where I hear the breathing of the trees and eternity. Where the fox comes to drink and in my mind it snows all the year. The place where silence begins, except
that back in the real world it's raining again. It's been raining for a week and despite it being January in north central PA it is 40 degrees and there has been little snow to speak of this year. I am not glad to see the rain although it may have traveled far to reach me. Perhaps melting off of a huge ice shelf in Antarctica or a Glacier from Greenland, evaporating into the atmosphere and traveling by trade winds till it reaches North America and the Jet Stream carries it to my door. I know the rocks around me have been here a long, long time and yet they are about to see a series of winters like none before. Warmer and wetter and earth changing all over the globe. A global trend of warming like the uncomfortable remembrance of having left the stove on at home...what will the future of our planet be like? What will Tioga County be like?

I adjust my pack against my shoulders. The inside of my jacket warm and sweaty like the unbearable summers to come. I'm following the creek back to the wood stove. I move fast. The Hemlocks and Maples pass by me. Snow buries their thick roots and blankets them in a quietness I am only able to imagine. I open the door in a wave of heat. I can smell the wood smoke and the people who live here. I take my jacket off. Boots sitting in a puddle of melting snow. Snow that will quickly become water. Add wood to the fire. An old Hemlock? Maybe. I speed up my breathing to match the fire's.

Be A Hiker by E. L. Berkowitz

The sun's up and promises to warm the banks of Sand Run before noon. It's May in Tioga County and I can barely wait to get outside and be a part of it! My fingers stumble in excitement as I rush to lace up my new hiking boots. I reach for my day pack and go over the checklist in my head. Water, snacks, first aid kit, headlamp and of course my dog-eared guide to wild flowers. A beautiful, twenty minute drive later I'm at the trail head to Sand Run Falls and ready to go. I walk into the woods and everything slows down. This is the perfect time of year to shake off that winter slump and start hiking again! Temperatures are cool and comfortable. No bugs, no undergrowth and lots of wildflowers waking up and rising out of last years leaves.

Now is the time to be a hiker. Who can be a hiker? What is it that hikers do that make them feel they can, well, call themselves hikers? To be a hiker you need only to have a desire to walk in the woods and then go do it. People ask me all the time, "What do I need to go hiking?" New boots, a pack, rain jacket? Maybe. Hiking equipment will allow certain freedoms and comforts, such as hiking on a rainy day. But all you really need is that sense of adventure. The desire to know what's around the bend in the trail or wonder if a waterfall is just another half mile up the creek. You might find yourself craving granola, raisins and snickers bars. Water and plain bagels smeared with peanut butter were never tastier. Stopping to watch a bird build it's nest or sitting on a mossy, wet log at level with spring beauty and hapaticka so thick and brilliant white you forget it's not snow but spring flowers. These are the little things that a hiker craves. These are the little things that make

Tioga County one of the most beautiful places in the Mid-Atlantic states and this is the reason you should lace up your boots and be a hiker. Sand Run Falls Trail can be found just outside of Arnot, PA. A seven mile circuit hike consisting of easy ups and downs. The trail is rocky in places and wet through most of the year, especially springtime. You'll find a rewarding waterfall at Sand Run as well as a good selecction of wild flowers through out the spring and summer seasons. If you're still hungry for more try wandering up the side streams that meet at Sand Run Falls. You'll find many other waterfalls and a true feeling of solitude. For more information on this hike or it's location visit Wild Asaph Outfitters of Wellsboro, PA or email the author at dothemountain@yahoo.com.