(Allentown Hiking Club Shelter (mile 1242.4) - PA Route 873 (mile 1259.7) *overnight in Palmerton*)

I started hiking today at about 8:50am. Moving northbound, the Allentown Hiking Club Shelter is positioned at the beginning of a short blue blaze which leads to a water source and then reconnects with the AT. I needed water, so I opted to take the blue blaze and skip the short ~0.25 section of AT. The blue blaze was roughly the same distance and probably a bit more scenic since the AT in this section was an old logging road. Besides… I’ve learned I’m not a purist.

When I reached the spring, I filled up both water bottles and my cold soak jar. The next water source was about 10 miles away at Bake Oven Knob Shelter where I figured I’d probably stop for lunch. My plan for the day was to hike about 18 miles to George W. Outerbridge Shelter, just outside Palmerton, PA. The hope was that I could hitch a ride into Palmerton early tomorrow morning and then spend the morning in town charging my devices. I realized last night that I’m actually quite low on power. I didn’t get a chance to charge things in Port Clinton, but I hadn’t been too worried because my power bank was displaying two (of four) blue dots, so I thought it was still half full. However, last night when I plugged in my phone, the power bank showed a single red blinking light. It was an unpleasant surprise, but as long as I can get into Palmerton tomorrow morning, I should be fine on charge.

The morning’s hiking was very rocky and included several scrambles along knife’s edge ridges with lovely views. After about 9 miles, I reached the trailhead parking lot for Bake Oven Knob where I found Sketchbook and sideHUSTLE who were stopping for lunch. Bake Oven Knob was just a short 0.4 mile climb away, so I opted to eat lunch with a view. The climb was indeed VERY steep, at times approaching an all-fours rock scramble. The views were absolutely worth it though, and I was grateful that I hadn’t stopped for lunch in the dusty gravel parking lot below. The rocks along the knob were heavily painted with graffiti, which I viewed with mild curiosity as I shoveled Fritos in my mouth. I also noticed a few strings of Tibetan prayer flags, some of which were strung between trees at the perimeter of the rocky outcrop, but many of which were broken and scattered on the ground.

As I was enjoying the views, food, and juvenile tags, a shaggy-looking hippie dude approached the cliffs. He was obviously disgruntled and began muttering angrily. I realized he must have been the one who hung up the prayer flags as he began collecting them from the ground. I tried to ignore him and enjoy the view, but his muttering grew louder and he eventually decided to air his grievances with me. He cursed the “IDIOTS” who vandalized the rocks and his prayer flags, explaining that he likes to come to Bake Oven Knob to meditate. His energy struck me as way off, and I found myself totally unmoved by the perceived injustices he was lamenting.

The vitriol he was directing at the people (probably kids) who vandalized his precious prayer flags seemed unfitting for someone presenting themselves as a meditative hippie type. I also saw parallels between his hanging of prayer flags and kids writing graffiti on the rocks. Both actions were attempts to leave a mark on the knob, and although they probably differed somewhat in their permanence, both actions violated Leave No Trace principals and spoiled the illusion of wilderness for other hikers. Furthermore, the act of writing graffiti or hanging flags displayed a selfish sense of ownership over the knob. This man clearly viewed the knob as his personal meditation palace. If he wanted to hang prayer flags, that was ok because the knob existed only as a space to host his hodgepodge appropriation of south Asian culture. He seemed disgusted by the idea that other folks might see the knob differently.

I kept my thoughts to myself, finished my lunch, and wished him well before hiking on.

Shortly after the knob, I stopped at Bake Oven Knob Shelter to use the privy. After about 2.5 miles, I ran into Sticks, Ranger, Gadget, and Whistler taking a break at a tentsite next to the trail. I joined them, positioning myself on a rock chair, and busting open a Nature Valley protein bar. The group was good company, and I opted to hike with them for a while. I learned that they were getting picked up by a friend who would be giving them a ride to Bethlehem PA, where they had hotel reservations. I also learned that Whistler was a retired teacher and Gadget was an air traffic controller.

After five miles, we made it to George W. Outerbridge Shelter, which is situated on the ridge right before the road into Palmerton. At the shelter, we met Camel and Kibbles, two young blonde cousins hiking together. I was about to unpack my stuff when Gadget asked me if I had seen a comment on Guthook’s Palmerton icon. The comment was from a trail angel named “Squeak” who allows hikers to tent in her yard for free. She also offers access to her shower and free laundry. Seeing as we were only 0.5 miles from the road, I texted Squeak to ask if I could crash in her yard. She texted back almost immediately and confirmed that I could spend the night - she even offered to shuttle me to and from the trail. As I was texting Squeak, Sketchbook and sideHUSTLE reached the shelter and asked if they could get in on the free tenting at Squeak’s. She said “sure,” so Sketchbook, sideHUSTLE, Sticks, Ranger, Gadget, Whistler, and I hiked the short but steep 0.5 miles to PA Route 873.

Squeak arrived promptly in an old, boat-sized Lincoln sedan. Sketchbook, sideHUSTLE, and I hopped in the car, and exchanged introductions with Squeak on the way into town. She explained that she is a dean at a nearby small liberal arts college and hosts hikers all the time. Apparently, the only reason her place isn’t an official hostel is because such a designation would require legal hurdles and insurance. Squeak also warned us that she doesn’t cook or clean, so her house is a mess.

We got to her house and it quickly became apparent that yes, she does not clean. The yard was a mess and the inside was a mess, but I was so grateful that I didn’t care. Squeak had her own tent set up in the yard, which she said I could use if I didn’t want to set up my own tent. I took her up on the offer and set up my gear in her single-man Big Agnes tent.

She had two sons who are about to finish high school. She explained that one of them is autistic, so we shouldn’t be offended if he didn’t talk to us. Squeak had a huge pile of wood in her backyard, and she urged us to start a fire and burn “as much of it as you can.” After we got our stuff set up, sideHUSTLE started a fire and we started slowly feeding bits of the pile into the pit. The wood was all sorts of shapes and sizes. She explained that some of it was from the Gibson guitar factory and some of it was from an old fort. There were also 2x4s and other random dimensional lumber. Pretty soon we had a small bonfire going in her residential backyard. Then her sons started adding things. Then another neighborhood kid (who was also autistic and apparently hangs out in their backyard all the time) appeared and also started throwing things into the fire. At this point, the fire was huge. Far too big for the tiny fire pit in squeaks narrow residential backyard. sideHUSTLE and I eyed each other nervously, and started scooting our chairs back from the pit. The fire was big, and sparks would fly each time one of the kids added another piece of wood. Then the piece would catch, and the fire would flare and grow… *TOSS *BOOM *WHOOSH… Then another one… *TOSS *BOOM *WHOOSH!

In the midst of this chaos, Squeak’s neighbor appeared at the fence. He was a middle aged man of Latin American descent. At first I expected him to complain about the obvious fire hazard just feet from his house. Instead, he cracked a big smile when he saw Squeak, and she greeted him warmly. She introduced him as “Amigo” and explained that he was part of a backpacking club she organizes for folks with little camping experience. Amigo is his trail name - apparently because he’s Mexican. He left the fence and returned shortly holding a baby doll. He removed a lit cigarette from his mouth and placed it in the doll’s mouth, proudly presenting it to all of us and declaring “LOOK, the baby is SMOKING!” and cackling hysterically.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the bizarre imagery of it all. Squeak briefly went inside the house, and things got even weirder when she returned with a set of bagpipes. She explained that she was learning the pipes before bursting into play. At this point, I was convinced that reality was peeling at the seems. A couple hours ago I was walking down the trail. Now, I was sitting in a stranger’s backyard. In front of me, Squeak’s kids were still feeding the inferno… *TOSS *BOOM *WHOOSH… To my right, Amigo had propped up his smoking baby on the fence, a tendril of smoke rising from the doll’s smoldering cigarette. On my left, Squeak’s bagpipes were erupting in song. It was all too surreal. I was clearly dreaming. Squeak’s place was chaotic in the best possible way.

Eventually, the gathering dispersed and I set out with Sketchbook and sideHUSTLE in search of dinner. We ended up walking to One Ten Tavern, a bar near the edge of town. It was trivia night inside, but we opted to sit outside on the porch. I ordered a cheese quesadilla and potato and cheese pierogis. I also ordered a porter from a somewhat local PA brewery. Everything was palatable, but the conversation with Sketchbook and sideHUSTLE really helped elevate the evening. Sketchbook is an elementary school art teacher. She carries a small Moleskine sketchbook, which explains her trail name. sideHUSTLE is a Honda mechanic by trade, but on the side, he resells clothes, which paid for their thru-hike and earned him his trail name. We enjoyed dinner and conversation, eventually making our way back to Squeak’s as the sun was starting to set.

Before bed, I called Anna Claire and walked to the town square as we caught up on life. The small town at night, illuminated by streetlamps, was rather charming. I paced around a large gazebo and along the park creek until I found a nice bench to sit and talk. After an hour and some change, AC and I wished each other goodnight, and I made my way back to Squeak’s. I stay up a while sitting by the fire with sideHUSTLE, before finally turning in for bed. A lovely way to end a lovely day.

Bonfires and bagpipes

cigarette smoking babies

Squeak's house of chaos