Section 9: Otter Creek to Long Level

March 11, 2012
Otter Creek Campground, PA to Long Level, PA
section miles: 13     total miles: 106

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Let's not mince words here - this section was brutal. Thirteen miles, at least twenty of which were straight up 400' cliffs. Or so it seemed. We nicknamed it "The Dragon's Spine" for the endless knee-jarring ascents and descents along jumbled, rocky ridgelines not suitable for mature audiences. There were plenty of opportunities for the trail to skirt harmlessly around these outcrops, so that one could admire them from a distance as God intended, but clearly the Mason-Dixon folks had more interesting challenges in mind. Either that or they employeed a troup of overly-rambunctious boy scouts to blaze this section. Took us over eight hours, which gives you a pretty good idea of the plodding pace, and a quick glance at a topo map showing the contour lines condensed to a black smudge along the river gives you a pretty good idea of the difficulty. We've climbed entire mountains that took less effort - a fact I never failed to wheeze out whenever we met fellow hikers crawling past us in the other direction.

The day started out, however, relatively tame. A beautiful sunrise greeted us upon arrival at our drop-off, and the first few miles heading north from Otter Creek Campground were a jaunty stroll. We felt strong, and complimented ourselves on how easily we tackled the first elevation gains as we passed through rather non-descript woodlands. Scenic overlooks provided some fabulous views of the river bathed in early morning light. We chatted about our good progress and how we should make it to Wrightsville by early afternoon, with plenty of time left in the day to play tourist. So much for that idea.

Beyond the three mile mark, or so, you begin to pick up lingo in the trail guide that will dog you the rest of the day. "Climb steeply by switch back... Climb steeply on stone steps... Climb the cliff and and follow the crest of the ridge... Reach high point and begin steep descent... Pass a small, overgrown graveyard with the remains of many hikers..." Okay, kidding about the remains, but I wouldn't have been surprised. I would like to recount some interesting stories, but other than seeing a couple of eagles and a flock of trumpeter swans during a rest break, I pretty much stared at my feet all day. We stopped to commiserate with another pair of hikers about midway through and learned that people actually run this trail as part of an ultra-marathon. I can't imagine.

Near the end of the day, as we summitted our last dragon spine, we met one more hiking couple. They confirmed out that we had, in fact, seen the worst of it, and the trail beyond this point would soon return to gentler terrain. From this vantage point - an imposing cliff overlooking the river towards the north - one can see that the topography changes markedly. The river broadens out considerably, and the flanking hills look more welcoming. There must be some interesting geology underlying this change, as you get the impression that whatever compression buckled the steep ridges to the south came to a rather abrubt end at this juncture, or perhaps more accurately, folded down into a basin. Here the west bank is known, appropriately, as "Long Level", and roads follow along the river on both sides to Wrightsville. Across the river this same abrubt elevation change is marked by Turkey Hill, famous as the home of Turkey Hill ice cream. So close, and yet so far.

With all that said and done, we did enjoy this section, and I "complain" about it in good spirit. Spectacular views and the satisfaction of meeting a difficult and novel challenge (for us) made it well worthwhile. Not that we intend to do it again anytime soon, mind you. For anyone contemplating this section hike, assuming you don't regard marathons as simply a pleasant jog, we suggest splitting it into more reasonable chunks, allowing yourself plenty of time to rest and enjoy the scenery.

We're now over 100 miles from our front door and two-thirds of the way to the AT.

Postscript

I happened upon a video on youtube of boy scouts backpacking through this section. Gives you a pretty good idea of the experience. Mason-Dixon Trail video

Section 8: Muddy Creek to Otter Creek

March 8, 2012
Muddy Creek Access, PA to Otter Creek Campground, PA
section miles: 12     total miles: 93

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It's difficult to imagine a more varied hike than the trail from Muddy Creek to Otter Creek. This section has it all - exploring several remnants of the Susquehanna and Tidewater Canal lock system, clambering around the islands of the Susquehanna, steep ascents to the ridge overlooking long stretches of the river, secluded creeks that tumble through sun-dappled woods, even more picturesque farmlands, and surprisingly rugged, rocky outcrops. I don't know how many times we stopped to admire a tranquil pool of water, remarking that it looked like a Japanese garden, only to find an even more impressive garden further on. In short, this is a very interesting and beautiful section of the trail.

From the Muddy Creek access point you head along the banks of the Susquehanna to the Lock15 interpretive park, where a nicely preserved canal lock is easily accessible and well documented. It's worth spending a little time here before heading up the river and onto Peavine island. The rocks on this island form impressive mounds of river-smoothed schist liberally studded with garnets, and required a bit of scrambling to navigate. Hiking across the island was a bit tricky - trail blazes were difficult to find, and flood debris in the lower elevations led to a bit of off-trail bushwacking, but we eventually found our way off at approximately the right point and rejoined the well-marked trail on the bank.

Once on shore, you pass a few more canal locks before turning west up the very scenic Mill Creek. Somewhere on this foray we were mindlessly hiking through a quiet wooded section when a sharp woof-bark-snarl brought us immediately into the present. We both instantly lept aside, hiking poles raised for battle, only to discover a big, fat, very pissed-off racoon glaring at us from behind a pine tree. I had no idea they could do grizzly-bear imitations. It was a good ten minutes before our heart rates returned to normal.

Beyond Mill Creek, the trail heads steeply uphill to some very scenic overlooks of the river and Holtwood dam. The trail drops down again to follow the river bank before heading up Oakland Run, another very scenic tributary, and from there you follow a long uphill slog through state game lands, emerging into wide-open farmlands. A few miles of scenic road walking brings you back to the woods, where you descend (steeply!) down Furnace Run and Sawmill Run to the Otter Creek campground on the banks of the Susquehanna. In a completely senior moment, we had no clue whether our car was parked upstream or downstream from where we popped out. We wandered up and down the road a bit, trying to recognize a landmark, before deciding to split up - Rene hiked up-river, I hiked down-river, and I eventually stumbled on the car. Lesson learned.

Section 7: Peach Bottom to Muddy Creek

March 4, 2012
Peach Bottom, PA to PA Fish & Boat Commission Muddy Creek Access
section miles: 13 total miles: 81

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Rene and I have recently commented to ourselves about the solitude we've experienced on the trail. Except for the occasional passer-by at the drop-off spots or in towns, or a property owner nodding from a distance, we have met essentially no one since our encounter with the hiking group at Iron Hill. Granted, we're walking in the off-season, but given the relatively warm days, you might expect to meet folks here and there, and it just hasn't happened. But that all changed today, when we had several opportunities to stop and chat with a rather interesting mix of characters. Turned out that at least one of our new aquaintences met with some unfortunate circumstance on this day and required emergency assistance.

We nicknamed this section "the horseshoe", since it arched in a big loop west around and across Muddy Creek, another substantial tributary of the Susquehanna river. As the crow flies, we made only 2.5 miles progress northbound on the west bank of the Susquehanna, but it took us 12.9 miles of walking to do it. That's quite a side trip, but the hiking was well worth it. Starting from the Peach Bottom nuclear plant, you head immediately uphill, gaining sufficient elevation to afford nice views, then back down to the river to walk behind some cottages on the bank. Here we met our first character in the form of Zack, a border collie, who was raucously herding ducks up and down the river while he waited for his owner to pile into the truck and head to work. They caught up to us a mile down the road and rolled to a stop for a nice chat and some requisite ear-rubbing.

Some road walking takes you on a short foray away from the river, then back down to the river bank to pass through the Cold Cabin settlement, a linear swath of cottages built on the flat remnants of the Susquehanna tow path. We stopped to chat with a homeowner who was remodeling his cabin; he gave us a Cliff's notes summary of the areas history and pointed out the remnants of the canal that were still visible. Just north of here is where the trail begins to swing west up the southern flank of Muddy Creek, into a surpising landscape of pine forest and deep rock gorges. If you were to drop in blindfolded, you could easily mistake this section for the White Mountains or some similar Appalachian wilderness. We were awed by the views of dark pine forest and thick undergrowth of rhododendrons, broken only by craggy outcrops flanking the gushing river.

Not far up the creek we encountered a trio of whitewater kayakers, decked out in full battle gear. One man was perched below in a narrow chute of perilously fast-moving water, standing knee-deep on a rock ledge holding his kayak at bay, while two others lay face down on a huge boulder, a good twenty feet above him, apparently trying to resolve some sort of issue. The situation didn't look good, but they saw us and didn't make any sort of "we need help" motions, so we assumed everything was under control and moved on after taking photos.

We cleared the whitewater gorge and promptly came upon two local boys (20-ish) who were hacking away at a huge pine tree along the river bank with a woodsman's axe. We stopped to say hi and make friends with their rambunctious terrier before venturing to ask what they were up to. "Making a bridge," they said. Ah-huh. The tree was huge - 60-80 feet tall and 3 feet in diameter - but the river was bigger. I'm guessing that phys ed was probably more of their strong suit in high school, as opposed to, say, geometry. I bit my tongue for a moment, but then couldn't resist. "Ain't gonna make it half way," I said, hoping that might dissuade them, because they were engaging in a seriously dangerous activity, not to mention imperiling any kayakers that might be floating down the river when she came down. Didn't sway them.

We moved on, and unfortunately passed another pod of kayakers not too far upstream, just as I feared. The gorge flattened out at that point, reducing the river to a wide, gentle flow between low hills, and more typical open hardwood forest. Here we came upon a trio of Amish boys, decked out in their mud-splattered Sunday best, heading down the trail for the gorge. They cheerfully agreed to have their picture taken. Not far behind was another trio of casual hikers, two men and a woman, who stopped to inquire about the trail, how far it went, whether they could reach the gorge, and so on. Past another pair of kayakers putting in a littler farther upstream, past another gaggle of Amish boys watching them intently, and then we were out of the Muddy Creek run and headed north into farmland and solitude along country roads.

Just like our last section, the farm roads offered spectacular views of rolling, wooded hills and freshly tilled fields - Pennsylvania's version of Big-Sky country. A few miles of road-hiking brought us to our car at the Muddy Creek boat access on the the Susquehanna river. I don't remember many details of the road hike, probably because my mind was fixated on all the people we met in the gorge, and I kept mulling over what I should have done about our two wanna-be axemen.

The drive home took us back toward the head of Muddy Creek, and my worst fears began to materialize as I pulled over to let four volunteer emergency vehicles fly by on the road. Sure enough, when we arrived at the bridge the emergency vehicles were parked, and the volunteers were busily pulling out bags of equipment. Recall the three casual hikers we met... one of the men was there with the crews, pacing back and forth. I had the natural urge to stop and ask what happened, but that was obviously not the time, and we drove on. Rene and I scoured the internet for a couple of days, seeing if we could unearth any news, but no luck. Here's hoping that means nothing too serious took place.

Postscript

With this section behind us, we've now reached the half-way point, approximately. Eighty miles to go until we hit the AT! Also note that I'm way behind on getting things posted. As I write this, we have actually completed two more sections and are just south of Wrightsville, PA.

Section 6: Glen Cove to Peach Bottom

March 2, 2012
Glen Cove Marina, MD to Peach Bottom, PA
section miles: 12 total miles: 68.0

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Shuttling our cars to the drop-off points in the early morning hours quickly raised our anticipation for this segment of the trail. We tapped our brakes along narrow winding roads carving through deep woods and wide-open fields and substantial rock outcroppings, past sheep and goats and cattle and horses, down through secluded camps and marinas nestled on the banks of Susquehanna tributaries. Suffice it to say that the trail didn't disappoint, but I was sorely (yes, pun intended) premature in assessing the ups and downs of our previous section - this was going prove even more difficult. Not sure why, but we both started out a little tired on this day, and finished flat-out bushed. Maryland is now behind us, and the long haul through Pennsylvania has begun.

The hike begins where we left off - Glen Cove marina - and heads north along the western bank of the Susquehanna to Peach Bottom, best known for its nuclear power plant. Which is to say, neither Rene nor I had ever heard of it until now. The first hundred yards is a genteel amble across a bridge and along a planked walkway, but then you quickly veer off and head straight up the face of a cliff. Okay, it's a hill. But on this day, it felt like a cliff. This is where eastern Maryland does its best impression of the AT - jumbled, loose rocks underfoot and a direct ascent to the top. We had to pause several times to rest, all within the first half hour.

For approximately the next three miles you follow the ridge along the west bank, dropping down and back up again to cross the occasional tributary. Some of this section follows a dirt road that seems barely passable by foot, let alone by vehicle, but some rather nice camps dotting the shoreline well below you tell otherwise. The trail crosses over Bald Hill, which at 330 feet directly above the river is the highest point on this section. The trail guide notes that this bald is composed of serpentine bedrock which stunts the growth of woods. I can't say that we noticed it - probably because we were stooped over gasping for breath at the moment - but further on some interesting outcrops of phyllite caught our attention (as being something new), and Rene scrounged around until she found a suitably hefty sample for me to tote home. One should never go hiking with a rock collector. Perhaps the lack of oxygen at this elevation was starting to get to her, because around this time she also suggested, helpfully, that if we find ourselves hiking on Easter Sunday, we should "wear bunny ears." You first, hawk bait.

From there one proceeds (where else!) down again to Broad Creek, a substantial tributary of the Susquehanna that is lined with interesting summer camps and homes. There's a bit more trail, but largely from that point on you're walking on roads for the next few miles. Unlike most of our previous sections, the road walking here was a welcome change. Some of it woods, some of it open agricultural land, all of it interesting. The views of rolling hills with farmland were spectacular... our photos can't do it justice. Somewhere in this section we reached a couple of milestones. First, we came across a sign that said "99 miles to the AT." A rather odd number, so to speak, but someone was thoughtful enough to post it. Which means we've walked more than 1/3 of our goal so far. Second, we trudged into Pennsylvania, and in doing so, crossed the actual Mason-Dixon line again. We were hoping for some sort of marker, but alas, not to be found, except for a rather uninspiring "Hartford County Maintenance Ends" sign (last county in MD).

The end of the road section brings you to the Peach Bottom Nuclear Plant. We had called ahead for permission to hike through, and assumed that we would be checking-in with some security station, showing our id, perhaps having our backpacks searched, probably hiking down a maintenance road next to a chain link fence with razor wire. But no. Not like that at all. No check-in. You merely troop down a road with a warning sign to evacuate if you hear sirens, and then you're on the trail through a heavily wooded section with some spectacular rock outcrops. You do pass by some utility stations, but that's about it. What fascinated us here was not so much the nuclear plant, but the storm damage to the surrounding forest. The windfalls in these woods were extreme - two-foot thick birch trees lay stacked like cordwood across the trail. We have seen downed trees everywhere along the trail, but not like this. Kudos to the trail maintainers who must have worked long and hard to clear a path through the destruction. We jumped a number of deer in these dense woods, but our best wildlife find of the day was a flock of ten turkeys milling about with relatively little regard for our presence.

From the hilltop west of the plant we clambered down towards our car waiting in the Peach Bottom parking lot, with a moderately swift creek presenting one last obstacle at the base of the hill. Miss Preparation daintily donned her wading shoes, while I summoned the inner boy scout and constructed a floating bridge of rotten logs, biggest I could lift without sustaining personal damage, reminding her pointedly about the benefits of marrying a large male of limited intelligence. "Oh this oughta be good," she says, reaching for her camera. No faith. For the record, I reached the other side mostly dry, although somewhat adorned with humus and earwigs. The day ended with our now customary celebration meal, this time at Riviera Maya in Rising Sun, MD - a funky little strip-mall place with authentic mexican food. Recommended!