Month: July 2017

The [Warm] Iceman

The text message I received on July 8 said:

“Good morning Lucky!”

“Welcome back to Pennsylvania. Where do you think you will be on Monday or Tuesday evening. It would be nice to see you again. Iceman”

Lucky, L, and Viking
Lucky, L, and Viking

My trail name is Lucky.  And, earlier this month, Viking [AKA Nate Harrington] and I were on the second day of six-day, 100-mile hike on the Appalachian Trail, headed south to Pen Mar, MD.  This message was good news. Iceman, who has hiked all of the A.T. himself, section by section, is a trail angel I met on my A.T. thru-hike two years ago. Or, I should say: he met me.

* * *

On May 8, 2015, I hiked 24.1 miles into Port Clinton, PA, where I first laid eyes on Iceman, AKA David Martin of Lancaster, PA.

[How did he get his trail name? He brought ice to a young girl who had fallen and injured her leg. She named him.]

I blogged my 2015 hike from Georgia to Maine on Trailjournals.com. This is what I wrote about that first encounter:

Lucky and Iceman, last week
Lucky, L, and Iceman, last week

“There to meet me as I came off the mountain was Iceman – he had read my blog, knew I might arrive this afternoon, and drove to Port Clinton to offer me some trail magic, beginning with an ice cold Coke and a ride to the pavilion where Crockman, Umbrella Man, Temper and I planned to spend the night.”

“He invited me to his home and took me to the Cracker Barrel for supper. What an end to an already good day…thanks to Iceman, a trail angel who came right out of the blue, here I am in Lancaster, Pennsylvania: full, clean, and with clean clothes to wear tomorrow.”

Next day he drove me back to Port Clinton, took all of us to an outfitter where we could buy equipment we needed and to a grocery store to resupply –a huge help– and then back to the trailhead.

Almost two months later, on July 5, 2015, in Maine, nine days from Mt. Katahdin, the end of the hike, I blogged that I had run out of food.

“I had instant potatoes for breakfast and no lunch. And there was no chance for me to buy more food until noon tomorrow in Caratunk, ME. And then along came Iceman bearing gifts for me and all the other thru-hikers [more than a dozen] gathered at Pierce Pond, waiting for morning to be ferried across the Kennebec River. Iceman had messaged me earlier asking where I’d be and then he showed up with soft drinks and lots of high calorie junk food that hikers crave.”

[He gave me extra food which allowed me to skip a time consuming resupply at Caratunk and reach Monson, 40 miles away, in two days instead of three, cutting a full day off of my trip.]

* * *

And now, here he was again, texting, asking where I’d be in a couple of days. I knew what that meant and so did Viking.

We were right.

Iceman arrived at Quarry Gap Shelters with three large pizzas, cookies, and soft drinks, enough not only for Viking and me, but, as usual, other hikers at the shelter.

Iceman reads hiker blogs, picks out hikers he wants to help, and then helps them and everyone around them. He knew Viking and I were doing a section hike in Pennsylvania because he had seen the video Viking had posted about our upcoming trip.

So how was our hike?

Terrific.

Good hikes start with the people you’re with.

I had hiked, off and on, with The Hiking Vikings [Nate and his wife, Sharon] for, I’m guessing, more than 1,000 miles two years ago, and they were good company. Sharon [Hiking], who is going to have a child in the fall, their second, did not get to come on this trip. 

Parts of the trail were NOT all that easy.
Parts of the trail were NOT all that easy.

Viking and I averaged 16.67 miles a day, a little more than we had planned. We finished the hike a half a day little early because this section was so easy, even for someone who is not in good shape.

I had hiked 154 miles around my neighborhood to prepare, but I’m not in hiker shape. Far from it. I’m way too fat.

There were a couple of [to me] hard climbs, including a really difficult climb coming south out of Duncannon, PA. But this section also has what I think it the easiest 14 miles on entire A.T. [mile 1119.7 – 1133.6] around Boiling Springs, PA.

Our hike was a tiny bit like my thru-hike:

     –There was Iceman, of course.

     –We got rained on several times.

     –One of my feet blistered, and I’m going to lose three toenails.

Why?

Most of the trail is a "green tunnel." But sometimes you get a treat, like this.
This time of year most of the trail is a “green tunnel.” But sometimes you get a treat, like this.

My boots are too small. They are size 11s; I used to be a size 10 and your boots should be a size to a size and a half larger than your foot, to allow for swelling. But my feet expanded on the thru-hike to a permanent size 11 so I need a bigger boot. Yes, yes, I finished the thru-hike in these boots and I hiked almost 200 miles in them last year. I thought they had stretched enough for me to keep wearing them, but I was wrong.

   –We ran into a lot of friendly NoBos –northbound thru-hikers– and a nutcake or two.

   –We started with a plan, and then altered it several times take advantage of conditions, like the morning we went through Duncannon and the trail ran within a few feet of a restaurant. Backpacks were lined up against the wall outside. That’s was a clue. We had already eaten a trail breakfast [Pop-Tarts and hot chocolate for me] but, naturally, we ate again.

Viking is 40-some years younger than me, but I wore him out. Oh, yea! Most of the time he was eating my dust.

That’s not the truth, but it is a fact.

He would stop and talk to almost everybody we met, gathering Hiker Tales.  I would keep trudging along. And when he finished talking Viking would come after me, double time, until he caught up. Sometimes all that running with a pack on his back wore him out.

And that’s a fact.

Coming Friday: Salvation, Part I

Their Honeymoon Was Over

[I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping. They were so loud, and so near the heat duct, I couldn’t help but overhear the couple two doors down. O.K., O.K., maybe I eavesdropped a little.]

*   *   *

Donna Joy Hyland and I were married on June 8, 1963, after I finished my freshman year at the University of North Carolina, and when we moved to Chapel Hill in September to begin my sophomore year we had enough money. Donna was working full time as a secretary at the UNC School of Nursing and I was working afternoons and weekends at the UNC Office of Sports Information.

But when we discovered we were going to have a baby in May everything changed, financially speaking.

Our bill in 1966, for rent, water and electricity, totaled $41. Adjusted for inflation, that's $315.82 in 2017 dollars.
Our bill in 1966, for rent, water and electricity, totaled $41. Adjusted for inflation, that’s $315.82 in 2017 dollars.

We moved out of our fancy apartment on Airport Road at the end of the first semester and into Victory Village, university-owned housing for married students.  UNC also owned dozens of handsome, brick apartments for married students but Victory Village was a lot cheaper and it was all we could afford.

Turned out, it was a wonderful place to live, full of good friends and good times –good memories now — and we lived there, at 114 Daniels Road, until I graduated in May 1966.

The single and multi-family prefabs were erected after World War II to house the influx of married servicemen enrolling at UNC. Each of the multi-family units contained eight apartments, long and narrow, like a railroad car, side by side by side.

She ran inside our apartment at 114 Daniels Road
She ran inside our Victory Village apartment at 114 Daniels Road.
Donna did not want her picture taken with her hair in curlers.
My wife, Donna, did not want her picture taken with her hair in curlers.

The front door opened into the living room;  a tiny kitchen and bathroom were side by side in the middle; and the bedroom was in the back.  The was no back door but there were two windows, one in the front and one in the back.

Donna was eight months pregnant with our twins when I graduated in May 1966, The front door of our apartment is on the left.
Donna was eight months pregnant with our twins when I graduated in May 1966.  The front door of our apartment is on the left.

The apartments were connected by a heating duct that ran from one end of the building to the other. The thermostat was controlled by the couple in the apartment on one end, which meant that during the cold months the temperature in all eight apartment was the same, often too cold or too hot. There was no air conditioning so we were all the same boat in the hot months, too.

This shows the heading duct going into the unit next to our unit.
This shows the heating duct going into the unit next to ours.

When a new couple moved in everyone would greet them warmly but no one would tell them the heating duct secret: If  you were standing too close it carried your voice, quite clearly, down the row of apartments. New couples had to learn that for themselves and, until they did, they were a frequent source of entertainment.

One fine day a newly married couple moved in and what a handsome pair they were, the woman for sure. They arrived in a bright red convertible, said hello, and then all but disappeared into their apartment, two doors down from ours.

Tom Harris, a neighbor who was in law school, with our son, Bo. In the background you can see the porches of four apartments.
Tom Harris, a neighbor who was in law school, with our son, Bo. In the background you can see the porches of four apartments.

We didn’t see much of them for several weeks.  Like I said, they were just married. And then one morning, as I was making coffee, getting ready to leave for school, I heard them arguing, yelling, which really wasn’t necessary because they were standing so close to the heat vent I could have heard every word anyway.

Apparently her good looks were not enough any more because she yelled at him:  “I didn’t say I could cook when we got married!”

NOTE: For a news story about the housing shortage at UNC right after WWII II go here.  This is what it said about the multi-family buildings, which it called “barracks”, where we lived in Victory Village:   “The barracks are like apartment houses with extra-thin walls. The occupants say you can hear every word from the apartments next door. If a wife in a middle apartment calls ‘honey’ to her husband, she may get three answers.”

Coming Monday: The [Warm] Iceman