At a time when all i’m really exposed to is thru-hikers, trail bums, hostel owners and the occasional section hikers, it’s damn nice to meet some cool people that don’t fall into one of the above categories. In Boiling Springs, PA, I was lucky enough to have this happen.

Two Saturdays ago, I had made the 20 miles from Pine Grove Furnace state park to Boiling Springs. The trail club had sanctioned a small camping area on the outskirts of town, wedged between a corn field and the railroad tracks. I decided to set up my tent, offload my gear and head into town. As i was setting up my tent, an extremely long freight train cruised by not but 40 yards from me. Chris Farley’s ‘Van down by the river’ bit came to mind, and for the first time on the hike, I truly felt like a gore-tex wearing hobo. I shook it off, strapped on my fanny pack (yeah, that’s right) and headed in to town.

After some local kids fishing on the town square pond quickly identified me as hiker trash, they immediately started bragging about how Boiling Springs was a great place to score any kind of drug. I got the sense that they were trying to sell me something of my choice, but all their ‘dudes’ and ‘brahs’ got in the way of their sales pitch. I finally shook them with a joke about how there’s nothing to do in small town except get fucked up, or apparently, catch 4 inch fish in the town pond.

I ended up at an Italian place called Anile’s. What has struck me so far about crossing the Mason-Dixon line is that you can no longer count on these ho-dunk town to have a mexican restaurant. Instead, it’s Italian. I ended up ordering a stromboli that was easily the size of a quarter of a watermelon (not those seedless genetically-engineered wonders, but state fair blue ribbon-sized melons). Upon finishing it, i received ”wows” and compliments from the waitress and owner. Swamp-etite in the house! (honestly, that just came to me)

With a very full belly, i wandered back to my campsite. As I approached, i noticed a circus-sized tent set up 30 feet from mine. This can mean only one thing: Locals. For some reason, thru-hikers are always afraid of camping near locals. If there’s some amazing campsite next to a waterfall, but there happens to be a road nearby, 4 out of 5 hikers will pass it up, presumably with the fear of hearing ”hey, there’s one now, let’s go mess with him” while snug in his tent sometime past midnight. So what passed through my head as i saw the locals’ tent on a saturday night the weekend before the fourth of july? a couple cases of Milwaukee’s best, some wily pitbull, some guy named delbert, shooting 22s at bottles on the railroad embankment, etc. I figured i would be in for a night of hootin and hollerin going on while i try to get some sleep, all the while damning my decision to sleep here.

My fears were totally misplaced. Instead, i ended up with the Key Club; five kids in their twenties who knew each other from the cross-country team in high school, and have all gone on to varying athletic achievements in the NCAA circuit. I first met Dan Wilde, who then introduced me to John Butler, Maureen McCandless and Christian Kunkel (co-founder of the American Beerpong Association of America check it out here). They quickly made me feel welcome and offered up an open invitation to their food and beer. After being unable to find beer in town, i was happy to take them up on the offer. A short time later, Pat Caulfield (not the dead artist, apparently) and his girlfriend Lauren Tucci showed up. We hung out and i told them stories of the weirdos on the trail, while i marvelled at the fact that they routinely go for 15 mile runs on the A.T. (they had one planned for 9am the next morning). Things definitely got rowdy as the John and Christian seemed to be in an unspoken competition of who could speak the loudest. Once we plowed through the last of the Miller Lites, we switched to passing around Parrot Bay passionfruit-flavored rum (which just might mke a pansy drinker out of me yet). One odd thing was that I found out Christian, Dan and Pat all worked for a company doing similar work to my last job. It was rather random to meet other people doing this niche job…and at a campsite on the edge of a 200 person town?

Anyways, i just wanted to give some props for the nice display of northern hospitality! Oh, ad thanks to the mad exercise physiology knowledge of Maureen, i now know that the burn i feel on uphills is due to oxygen deficiency and lactic acid!

And sure as anything, the next morning when i was in town nursing my hangover at he local A.T. Office, the gang came by with all their camping gear, dropped it in their cars, changed into running gear and headed out. You’ve gotta respect the dedication of REAL athletes. It makes us hikers look like a bunch of hacks….

Oh, and christian, nice ‘tash in the SI pic….