When we went to sleep last night we had the prospects of either one killer day into Port Clinton (especially when we factored in reports we’d gotten on the upcoming terrain), or two way too easy days into Port Clinton, if we split up the distance around the next shelter and water. Also, there was still the business of the yellows and oranges on the radar to the west. So, we decided that at 4:30 a.m., if it wasn’t raining, we’d get up in the dark and try to make it to Port Clinton. If we did get that 50% chance thunderstorm, we’d just wait it out, and come up with a Plan B.

So, of course, after a night with barely a few sprinkles, at 4:30 we start to get a gentle shower, which sounds like it might be the start of something bigger. We roll over and go back to sleep… 6:00 a.m., daylight, and the briefest of rains has now long come and gone. We fix some breakfast on the wonky picnic table (tilted at such an angle that anything heavy {like a water bottle} just slid right off! I hope the next passing trail crew brings a level with them…) and break camp. Except for Vodka, we’re the last to get on the trail. OK, it may take us until dark, but somehow we’ll trudge on into Port Clinton…

Then not two miles down the trail, we run into Dave Martin, who calls to us by name. [If like everyone else in America you have been following the AT journey of Balls and Sunshine, this is the same Dave that first got ice to Sunshine the day she broke her arm…] Dave enjoys following folks on line, then coming out to offer assistance when they pass through his area. He turned around and walked with us back to his car at PA 183. (Dave first looked for us back at PA 645 where he’d met the Charons, so he was able to give us an update on Tree Trunk’s badly swollen bite. He then jumped ahead to PA 183.) At the road, he offered us a cold soda [“But it’s probably too early in the morning for a soda?” “Nooooo,” said N Trovert, “Never too early for a soda…”] and then blew us away by offering to slack pack us the remaining 14 miles to Port Clinton! Are you serious? We jumped all over his kind offer, and quickly filled his two large trash bags with everything we didn’t need for the next seven hours. We headed back into the woods with both a figurative and literal spring in our step!

It’s amazing what a difference a little weight can make. With our hiking time decreased, we didn’t need to stop to take on water, which saved us even more time. And keeping our balance on those sections of nasty Pennsylvania rocks was not as painstakingly slow as it would have been otherwise. Why it was like we were living the lives of two young macho hikers! All of a sudden, we were loving the AT in Pennsylvania. Bill Bryson, you just don’t know what you missed!

In the middle of all this we finally met Late 4 Dinner. We’d enjoyed reading his Trail Journal, marveled how he covered ground once he got started, and worried when he came down with Lyme disease in Harpers Ferry. We had a nice chat beside the trail and were glad to hear how his health is returning to 100%. More than bears or falls, Lyme disease is about the scariest thing on the AT.

While we had a much smoother time than we’d expected when we first woke up, the trail from Eagles Nest Trail to Port Clinton is not easy. It seemed like the closer we got, the more the sections of rock got longer and longer, with the periods of respite in between getting shorter and shorter. The trail downhill at the end is amazingly steep and is not something we’d want to face on a rainy day. But just past the train tracks at the bottom, as promised, there was Dave Martin with our gear and more cold drinks! Daisy and Blue Feather had arrived just ahead of us, and Dave had offered to take them wherever they needed to go once he got us to our motel. What a special person, even by Appalachian Trail Trail Angel standards his kindness knows no boundaries…

N finished his best 4th ever with a double helping of green beans at the nearby Cracker Barrel.