We started early and moved fast along the ridge towards Harpers Ferry. The descent of the ridge into HF follows a very steep diagonal trench which has trees growing out of the side of it. I look at it and think - this has to be manmade. Sure enough we find out later, that this hillside was barren during the Civil War, and that this trench gave protection to soldiers to allow them to move up and down the slope without being shot at. We are now following it 150 years later. The trench is still there - the forest has regrown - and now hikers follow the path down every day. How many of them realise the history of their descent?
This is an emotional moment. We have clocked more than 1000 miles and walk into Harpers Ferry - the town considered to be the 'emotional' half way mark, though the actual half way mark changes each year as new zig zags are added and the distance increases a little bit.
We cross the Shenendoah River on the bridge with four lanes of cars zinging past us and climb through the narrow pathway to emerge in an old part of the town where the Appalachian Train Conservancy has their headquarters. Excitement mounts as we race two young males to be the first hikers to emerge from the forest that day.
There are some spectators cheering us on as we come down the narrow lane. Lo and behold - it is Stickbuilt, Sandy and Paradise who have actually come early to wait for us to arrive. In a strange country, with few contacts we suddenly feel like we have 'family' watching out for us. We met Stickbuilt on the trail over 2 months ago - he knows us by our trail names of Tripper and Wizard from OZ. We find it hard to adapt to call him by his real name - Dave. Paradise is a male in his forties who has walked with us in the first few weeks and then rejoins us to walk part of the Shenendoahs. His real name is Nick. Paradise and Stickbuilt have both suffered injuries to force them to pull out of the hike, in the short term - both are hoping to return and may possibly walk with us when they return.
Our welcoming committee know what thru-hikers need - they have brough an esky full of ice with cans of soft drink and beer. Before Digby does anything else he drinks a beer. I sort through the soft drinks and select a can with the most calories. We have walked for the last 10 days without a break, averaging 15 miles a day in temperatures above 90 degrees F or 35 celsius.
AT the headquarters of the ATC we are processed and have our picture taken in front of the office sign. These photos go into the official photo album - we are number 485 to come through as thru hikers heading north. We buy 10 postcards of our photo to send home. We browse the photo album, looking for faces that we recognise of people who have passed us - who has made it - who has disappeared and dropped out? Thousands have dropped out before the half way mark. Others have appeared ahead of us, who we know should still be behind us - they have 'yellow blazed' which means hitched a ride on the road and jumped ahead. - we see Doc's face - he was there just a couple of hours before we arrive. We are sad to miss him by such a small margin. Maybe we will still catch up. But alas we never do, and never see any more entries from him until we get back to Australia and he has posted a message on trailjournals.com for us. He took 2 weeks out because he was sick and then followed us in the logbook entries and did make to Katahdin. We are called 'purists' - we are walking every step of the way with no shortcuts. There are few purists on the trail, but Doc was another one.
Our photo shows how skinny we are. Later we weigh ourselves on Stickbuilt and Sandy's scales and discover that we are both the lightest in living memory. Digby is starting to look like a WW2 prisoner of war with ribs and ribcage very prominent. For me - I now have a real waist and my bottom has disappeared, but the fat layer is still hanging on. The previous day for lunch I had drunk two cans of soft drink and ate a pint of vanilla flavoured icecream - and walked 10 miles and climbed 4,000 ft from the sugar hit!
Sandy packs us into the car with Scatters and takes us first to the post office where we have a mail package from Australia - new eye glasses for me ( I broke them on day 4) and our summer lightweight tent, sent by Rosemary. Then we get taken home to Washington DC. Stickbuilt and Sandy have a 2 storey house in a lovely rural environment on an old farm subdivided 20 years ago.
We let everything go - and relax and sleep.What bliss!
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