(Shenandoah Street (mile 1025.1) - Annapolis Rocks (mile 1050.5))

After being dropped off at the Shenandoah Street parking lot, Delta and I made our way towards Harpers Ferry. As we left the busy street and returned to the earthen trail, we encountered a somewhat disheveled, possibly homeless gentleman walking southbound. When he saw us, he gave us a big grin, revealing a mouth with only a handful of teeth. In a loud, jubilant voice, he excitedly exclaimed “WELCOME TO DA’ FERRYYYY!!!” Delta and I both laughed and thanked the man for such an unexpectedly warm welcome.

We soon reach the blue blaze for the Appalachian Trail Conservancy Headquarters. The side trail routed us through the historic campus of Storer College, a small school founded in 1865 with the mission of providing education to formerly enslaved men and women. For 25 years, Storer was the only school in West Virginia where a person of color could receive an education beyond the primary level. Storer operated until 1955 and played a formative role in the early protest movement against Jim Crow laws, including holding the first American meeting of the Niagara Movement (which preceded the NAACP) in 1906.

The Appalachian Trail Conservancy Headquarters was a block north of Storer College. The visitor center was still closed due to COVID precautions, but that couldn’t stop Delta and me from taking the iconic ATC front porch pic. Harpers Ferry is not the halfway point, but I’ve heard it called the “spiritual halfway point.”

I left Delta and made my way back to the trail, passing the old canons and historical buildings that dotted the blue blaze. The trail itself skirts the southern edge of town above the northern shore of the Shenandoah. I soon reached Jefferson Rock, a peculiarly balanced rock overlooking the Potomac. Thomas Jefferson is said to have stood on this spot during a 1783 visit to Harpers Ferry. The view inspired him to write of the Shenandoah and Potomac Privers: “In the moment of their junction they rush together against the mountain, rend it assunder, and pass off to the sea… This scene is worth a voyage across the Atlantic.” The pillars were placed under the rock around 1860 by the U.S. armory superintendent, who feared that the rock was “endangering the lives and properties of the villagers below.” I thought it was a cool rock and couldn’t help taking some silly pictures with it.

As the trail routed me through the heart of Harpers Ferry, I was impressed by the rich history in every direction. It was still early in the morning, so all the historic attractions were shuttered and there were very few people around. I felt a bit disappointed to be passing through such a beautiful and historic area without getting to see inside any of the historic attractions. It also would have been nice to be able to find a bathroom. Regardless, the town was cool. I got the impression that it was a Disney Land for US history buffs.

I left Harpers Ferry on the Goodloe Byron Memorial Footbridge, a pedestrian and railroad bridge connecting West Virginia and Maryland, and just like that, I completed the ~1 mile section of AT in West Virginia. It was a bit wild to have another state in the bag so quickly after finishing Virginia. These contrasting extremes served as a reminder that states are a poor metric to assess thru-hike progress. Nevertheless… another state down! Woop 🎉🥳

As I reached the far end of the bridge, a train emerged from a cliff side tunnel. It was loud as hell, so the noise and my growing need to dig a cat hole motivated me ahead at a faster pace. At this point, the AT follows the C&O Canal Towpath for about 3 miles. The C&O Canal Towpath is a popular recreation trail originally built for draft mules to walk beside the canal as they towed boats along the waterway. The trail spans 184.5 miles between Cumberland, Maryland and Georgetown in D.C. As I walked, the need to SCHMOO became more and more urgent. My options were limited though. On my right was a small, brushy patch of shore between the trail and the Shenandoah. On my left was the canal, which was dry. There weren’t a ton of people around, but I needed to find a place where I wouldn’t be spotted by any poor unsuspecting families. Eventually, I found a spot on the left side where the brush was thick between the trail and canal. I climbed down into the canal, which was about 6-7 feet down. Unfortunately, the ground was very rocky and my little ultralight trowel wasn’t up to the task. I excavated a pathetic little dent in the earth and did my business. Afterwards, I capped my creation with the largest rock I could find. My buddies in Scouts called this the “Indian burial” method. Not proper LNT practice, but sometimes it’s the only option.

I climbed back out of the canal using a ladder of tree roots and emerged back onto the trail as if nothing had happened. I continued on and after passing a couple water locks, the canal was no longer dry and I began spotting life. Turtles lined up politely on their basking perches, families of ducks, and even a river otter who swam sleekly along the water’s surface before diving under and disappearing from view.

The towpath was almost perfectly flat and I made good time. After a mile, I passed under the massive Route 340 Bridge, which I realized we had crossed last night and this morning while traveling to and from the Airbnb. After another 2 miles, the trail left the C&O Canal Towpath, crossed under Route 340 again, passed a parking lot for day hikers, and finally re-entered the woods. I was climbing again almost immediately. After 0.7 miles, I reached the side trail to Weverton Cliffs were I spotted a freshly molted cicada perched on an old sign post. The little dude reminded me that a massive brood emergence was due. I’m excited to see it, but also a little terrified about the noise. Like seriously, am I going to be able to sleep? 😅

I dropped my pack at the side trail and went to see the cliffs, which were indeed impressive. It was clearly a popular spot for day hikers, which made sense given the short hike and awesome views. An older couple asked me if I was thru-hiking and offered me an apple, which I happily accepted.

After about 6 miles, I made it to Gathland State Park, an unexpected landmark featuring running water faucets and castle-like ruins. After another 7 miles, I reached the Dahlgren Backpacker Campsite, a Maryland DNR-managed campground with gravel tent pads and a shower house with three stalls featuring flush toilets, showers, and running water available from a utility sink at the side of the small, pale yellow building. I stopped for the flush toilets and then crossed US 40A at Turners Gap. Near the crossing was the Old South Mountain Inn Restaurant, a fairly nice dining establishment, which according to Guthook comments, turns hikers away by saying they are “out of food.”

A bit beyond the road crossing, I passed a beautiful stone church which seemed to exude its age and history. Another half mile brought me to Washington Monument State Park. The trail routed alongside a large picnic area, featuring restrooms and a water spigot. The place seemed like an ideal trail magic location, but alas no trail angels materialized with fresh fruit, grilled food, and cold beer. I continued on and discovered the state parks namesake - a somewhat barrel-shaped stone tower which was apparently the first phallic memorial dedicated to our country’s first president and revolutionary hero. A narrow stone spiral staircase brought me to the top of the monument, which offered 360 panoramic views overlooking nearby Boonsboro, Maryland. I had no idea this landmark existed, so this was an excitingly unexpected discovery.

Another 3 miles brought me over Interstate 70 on a chain link pedestrian footbridge. From there, the trail climbed back up onto the ridge and dipped into South Mountain State Park. I reached the side trail for Annapolis Rocks, my destination for the evening, at mile 1050.5. A large campsite maintained by the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club was located near the end of the quarter mile side trail. As I searched for an open tent spot, by exhaustion gave way to an awareness of an unavoidable shuffling and scratching noise. As I peered down at my feet, I realized it was the sound of dozens, hundreds, and probably even thousands of cicada larvae emerging from underground and rustling through the leaf litter. Everywhere I looked were cicada larvae slowly and deliberately scurrying about. Searching for some vertical surface to climb, perch, and molt. Crazy.

I set up my tent in a small clearing, taking care to clear out all the cicadas, and started my cold soak before heading to the namesake Annapolis Rocks. To my surprise, I found the cliffs unoccupied. I sat along the rocky, westward facing outcrop and basked in the glow of the intensifying sunset as I dug into my ramen bomb. This was a darn nice way to end a long day of hiking.

The brood is stirring

many nymphs emerge en masse