FREE ESSAY ON HIKING THE APPALACIAN TRAIL

HIKING THE APPALACIAN TRAIL

I remember exactly what I felt as I stepped out of the truck and into the afternoon
sunlight. I was at Lehigh Gap, a drop-off point where the Appalachian Trail meets highway
873 near Lehighton. A group of friends and I were being dropped off to begin our three
day journey to Eckville, another drop-off point southwest of there.
I turned to face the trail and was surprised to see quite possibly the steepest hill I
had ever seen. As a matter of pure coincidence, this was the summer of 1999, the year of
a terrible draught. Reservoirs were low and water-boiling advisories were in place all
across the state. It was also one of the hottest summers on record. By the time we
started hiking at nine o'clock, the temperature was already eighty-five degrees, and
still climbing.
At first, the going was easy. The first few hundred yards of trail were shaded, and a
(relatively) cool breeze was blowing. All of a sudden, the trees ended and all that lay
ahead was a sun-baked rocky slope. We all decided that it would be best to take a break
for rest and a drink of water while we still had shade.
It was very comfortable sitting there in the shade. I remember thinking that the area
looked like something out of a painting. The way the light fell across the trees and
scattered of the ground was magnificent. I wanted to stay there for the rest of the day,
thinking of the trail ahead, but we all decided it was best to leave. The quicker we got
to camp, the more "R&R" time we had until sundown.
That was when the hike turned hellish. The sun beat down relentlessly. Sweat drenched my
clothes and my legs burned. We made jokes and complained a lot to break the silence. I
started singing "The Ants Go Marching" to myself to help me keep my pace. The hill seemed
to last forever. Then slowly, the trail started to level off and trees began to appear.
Relief had come at last!
The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. The terrain was flat and we stopped every hour
or so for water. We consulted the trail map every time we stopped and even started taking
bets on how much longer we would be hiking that day. Everyone was so exhausted by the
time we reached the shelter that we just rolled out our sleeping bags and laid down.
The next day began well. We woke up early, ate breakfast, stretched, and broke camp for
Allentown Shelter, where we would stay that night. We made good time, so we decided to
stop in a shady spot to rest until it cooled down. Everyone but I fell asleep pretty
fast. I just sat and played cards, figuring that someone had to wake everyone up later.
About an hour and a half later I woke everyone to start again. As I pulled my pack back
up to my shoulders, I realized it felt unusually light. I dropped by bag back down to the
ground and opened it to see what I was missing. I rummaged through my equipment, but
found nothing missing. I decided to check my water bottle before we left. I was horrified
to find that two of my three water bottles were totally empty, and the third was only
half-full.
I opened my bag once again, this time looking for my trail map. This was the best time to
look for a water source since we were already stopped. I found where we were on the map
and, gladly, saw that there was a spring no more than two miles away. Not thinking about
the draught, I figured we could refill at the spring, so we packed up and continued our
hike. The two miles to the spring went quickly, and before I knew it I looked up and saw
a wooden sign pointing to the spring.
As we got closer, I noticed a small piece of paper stapled to the sign. The paper read: 
"No Water; Spring Dried Up." 
"5/8/99"
Those few words scribbled of a piece of paper managed to break my spirits and send me
ranting. For the purposes of decency, I will refrain from writing the details of my
language, but I think the reader might have some idea of what was said already. There was
nothing we could do except go on, so we did.
We ended up walking the rest of the twelve miles that day without water. Our throats
burned from being so dry, but we had to conserve the rest of our water so we could cook
our dinner of dried Lipton noodle packets that night. By the time we got to the shelter
that night, we were dead on our feet. I didn't even bother to unroll my sleeping bag this
time. I just laid down in the dirt. 
Before we ate, I looked up and saw a sign pointing to:
"Blue Spring 0.1 mi.
Yellow Spring 0.4 mi."
I stood up slowly and walked over to my friend Tim to ask if he felt like going for a
walk. "Sure," he said, "it doesn't sound too far." 
"And there is a chance we will find water." I added. So off we went.
We agreed to take it slow because we were both wearing sandals. We took five water
bottles each, which was about as much as we could carry. My legs felt like "Jell-O", but
the prospect of water kept me going. The path was a slow down hill, cut through a grassy
opening in the trees. When we got to the "Blue" spring, we found it dry, and were just
about to turn back, when Tim noticed the sign for "Yellow" spring. "You know, 0.3 miles
really isn't that far. We hiked like fifty times that far this morning," he said after he
showed the sign to me. It seemed like a good idea to me, so we went for the spring.
The trail to the second spring somewhat reminded me of the time we went through on the
first day. The path down was rocky with large boulders jutting out of the hillside. At
least we had shade this time. As we neared the bottom, we were greeted by the sound of
running water. The second, ironically named "Yellow", spring was flowing. We filled our
water bottles, rinsed off quickly with the cool water, and tramped back up the hill to
camp.
I have to say that it was not easy carrying five full two-quart water bottles up that
hill in sandals, but we managed and marched triumphantly into camp. Frankly, I was
expecting more celebration, but none the less, everyone thanked us for going for water.
No one was thirsty for the rest of the night; we saw to that.
We finished the last six miles of the hike the next day before our noon pick up time, so
we sat and played cards until the van got there to take us home. In hindsight, I guess we
could have finished the six miles that day without the water we got, but we would have
missed our little adventure.