Guest Blog from Ray: The Last Backpacking Class

The photo at left was taken by our good friend Ray Beimel in Pennsylvania who sent this account of a backpacking adventure he recently went on with his friend Chris. The photo is the remains of a Hessian barn built during the Revolutionary War by prisoners. I'll let Ray tell the story:

    It seems like something very enjoyable is coming to an end. The PhysEd class, Introduction to Backpacking, at Harrisburg Area Community College (HACC) is unlikely to be offered again. My friend Chris has taught this one credit course for upwards of 15 years or more. We can't pin down the exact year he started.

    Knowing this would quite possibly be the last, and not having anything of a revenue producing nature to do, I decided to go along. I had done this several times in the past going back to 1997 and some of you no doubt remember previous stories.

    Having had few nights camping this year, I drove down to Pine Grove Furnace State Park Friday night. Otherwise, I would get up and leavehome  at 5AM. It was an easy drive down with the only slowdown being the usual afternoon madness that is rush hour in Philipsburg. It only took me a few minutes to get the tent up. I walked around the campground a couple of times, noting that it was less than half full. It was a third tents, a third trailers, and a third motor homes. The new restrooms built since my last stay there are very nice. One of them has showers and dishwashing sinks. The one nearest my site had neither. But it did have this intriguing switch or control that didn't do anything I could figure out. I insert a photo here in case one of my readers knows what this does.

    While walking around the campground, I noticed a phenomenon not seen in "wild" woods. Here every tree had its twigs and branches below 7 feet removed. This was the work of people desperate for firewood. I noticed that very nearly every campsite but mine had a fire going. Many of them were more smoke than fire but I guess a fire satisfies some primal need. For my part, if I don't need one for heat or for cooking, I would rather avoid the smoke and effort.

    I made some grilled ham and cheese sandwiches for dinner and then fired up the Coleman lantern so I could do some reading, back issues of the New Yorker. There was a young woman camping alone at the next site. She was reading as well. She had a fire but it was Duraflame logs. I could tell by the smell. I was tempted to go over and talk but didn't. Later, her friend arrived and I could hear the two girls talking long after I had crawled into my sleeping bag. In the morning, I could see that one of them was using a smartphone so I went over and asked about the weather forecast. She told me, "You're gonna get wet." We talked a bit more and I kicked myself for not going over in the evening. They were quite pleasant and eager to talk and exhibited that most desireable of all characteristics in women, laughing at my jokes. Reluctantly parting company, I drove over to the meeting area. I had enough time to get my pack out of the car before Chris and the class arrived.

    There were the usual introductions, pack fixing, advice giving, and other stuff before starting to hike. This group wanted before and after pictures so they posed in front of the furnace stack on the way out. I only have the after picture. It was cloudy, cool, but not raining. After the halfway point rest stop, we discovered the trail had been relocated. Any of you familiar with the trail know that a relocation is never a good thing for the hiker. Instead of proceeding along a relatively level gravel road, the new trail goes onto the rocks and up the hill. We took the old way. When we passed the Hessian barn ruins, reputed to have been built by prisoners of war in the Revolution, we saw that the trees that once surrounded it were gone. It was fenced in and there were signs telling us to stay away. We did not. While Chris told the story, I took some pictures. 

    We also saw numbered markers for what would become an interpretive walk. The area once held Hessians. Then it was a CCC camp, and during World War 2, it housed captured German submariners. Given the great difficulty of capturing guys in submarines, it didn't have to be a very big camp.

    After crossing Michaux Road, the trail goes along an old road. This area is now the halfway point between Georgia and Maine. Chris stopped to take a look. The marker used to be north of Pine Grove Furnace and Brad and I passed that one some years ago. What with relocations happening all the time, the true midpoint moves. But you have to put the monument somewhere so here it is for now. 

    This group hiked very well with no laggards so we were at the campsite quickly. It was a couple of years since we were there last and some things had changed. I put this in here mostly for Brad's benefit as he has been there. The roped off area is no longer. There are 5 gravel tent platforms scattered around the area. The shelters each have a tent platform in front now. There are many signs saying NO FIRES. The truck tire rims that were the fireplaces are gone. Most of the logs in the kitchen area are gone. There is a picnic table for tent campers near the old kitchen area. These are all good improvements. Of course, people were violating the no fires thing. You can't easily stop people from building fires in the woods.

    Despite my giving several good reasons why wasting time gathering wood and building a fire at 1:30 in the afternoon was not a good idea, the students did it anyway. Jordan is holding the newspaper they would use to start the fire. The headline was too appropriate. 

    Kira sawed logs with her Leatherman tool, Jason huffed and puffed, and finally they did get a bit of a blaze going. This was during their off time, after lunch, after water filtering class. In the manner of white men, they kept warm going farther and farther out for wood. Chris and I sat at one of the shelters and watched while talking of many things. One sight that really had our attention was the hole burned in the floor of the shelter. This put us into CSI mode. We determined that the fire started on the floor and burned down. There was a crusty carbon residue on the edge of the hole so there was something besides wood burning. In the end we could not figure out how it really happened so we made up a story that involved wet rain gear, a leaking stove, alcohol, a smartphone, and Sarah Palin. 

    If any of my pyrotechnically adept friends (you know who you are) can explain this, please try. Shortly after this Marielle and Jordan came by on the way for wood. They looked at the bear pole and Chris asked them if they knew what it was. They had several guesses, none of them close to the truth. So Chris demonstrated using my raingear as a substitute for a food bag. We did not tell them how long it took three of us to master that item at Gravel Springs Hut back in 1992. The idea is to hang your stuff sack laden with food from the pole to keep bears from getting it. I am thinking that a big enough hungry enough bear could solve that problem. You can't deny a hungry bear. 

    Right after this, I asked Chris for my raingear back as I needed it. The rain forecast came true. It started about 3:15PM and would last until 7 in the morning. It rained without letup, not light, not heavy, just steady. This was just in time for tent and tarp seminar. But like good Marines, the class did not quail from being out in the rain. Chris had them demonstrate all the ways shelter could be made from a tarp. Earlier we had rigged one over the picnic table just in case. 

    While we played with rope and line and angles, Chris and I regaled the class with stories of what Brad would do. Finally, one of the girls asked, "What does this Brad look like." I think she had the idea he was our invisible friend or a shared hallucination. I had a picture on my beater camera of Brad playing Cinch in the Hilton. Upon seeing it, one said, "That's not what I was expecting him to look like." But I don't know if her vision was better or worse. We will never know.

    Three more groups came into the area after the rain started. One was a family group that took over the upper shelter. They had no way to cook but over a fire so they had to go farther for wood. Dad was using a hatchet in a dangerous way and Chris and I started mentally rehearsing first aid for huge lacerations. Luckily it was not needed but he sure was violating everything I ever taught about safe usage of an ax. Another group of four took over the lower shelter and then pitched a large tent in front of it. Later two guys came in, soaked totally, and were turned away by that gang. Chris got quite inflamed about that with good reason. In bad weather on the trail, you always share the shelter no matter how crowded it gets. And then a Boy Scout group came in. It was a well organized unit from Maryland practicing for a Philmont hike. Among the leaders were two women who seemed to have a good grasp of campcraft. Their tents sprouted like mushrooms after a spring rain. They had done a lot of hiking and despite the rain, still showed high morale. It made me nostalgic for being out with the old troop and the great scouts I had like Joe and Tony and Mike and the rest.

    The kids cooked up some good grub for dinner and shared it generously with Chris and I. There were fajitas, chicken and steak, peppers, onions, and mushrooms, noodles, all good hearty stuff on a rainy night. 

     After cleanup, we just pretty much wandered off to bed. To get to the little campsite Chris and I used, we had to cross a fallen tree over Toms Run. Of course, halfway across in the dark, I slipped and ended up in the creek, nearly knee deep. Nothing damaged except my dignity. We slept well enough and by the time we got out of the tent, the rain had stopped. I don't expect I will ever camp in that nice little spot again. Here is the last picture of it.

     By the time Chris and I were packed, the kids were all done with breaking camp chores. I cooked up some scrambled eggs and cheese in tortillas for breakfast and finally crammed everything back into the pack. The hike out was easy enough and we were back in the park in no time at all. Here is the group just before they had to take the final exam.

     From left: Marielle (a fine hiker and very pleasant personality), Kira (a happy person, soccer goalie and volunteer firefighter), Jason (soon to be a Marine MP, I told him some Colonel Gunter tales), Rita, (a fit girl, good cook), Chris, Jordan (good natured and hardworking), and Brooke (who had a baby just 5 months before and hiked like a veteran on the trail.) They were a great bunch to hike and camp with, never complaining, always helpful. The great pity of the class is that I will never see these good people again and yet I would love to be on the trail with any or all of them again.

    There was a little bonus at the end after everyone left. The Appalachian Trail Museum is in the old mill building in the park and it was open. I stopped in and met the most enchanting docent I ever encountered in such place. Witty and charming and full of tales, I could have talked to her for hours. There isn't a lot at the museum yet but it is growing and I did enjoy what I saw there. The old Earl Schaffer shelter that we passed along Peters Mountain 1999 is now on exhibit. Here's what the place looks like on the outside.

    And as Baretta would say, "That's the name of that tune." The backpacking classes were always a hoot. I met a lot of fine people, had a lot of good times, got a lot of good stories. I am sorry they are likely at an end. I know this story is a little longer than usual but you know how it is, the tale writes itself sometimes. Thanks for reading. Be safe,   Ray