Day 92, Campsite at Mile 1206.3 to Port Clinton

Leaving our campsite, we walked on a smooth pathway. I knew it wouldn’t last long, so I tried to walk as quickly as I could.

We crossed a stream and then entered an area identified with signs as being scheduled for a prescribed burn. The sign said the burn was to happen last May 4.

There were a few places where the base of trees were scorched, but otherwise it was difficult to tell a burn had taken place. The forest was as leafy green as any other.

After only walking less than a mile we hit a rocky section. This one was crazy rocky, a mix of large and small rocks, and the going was slow.

At the bottom of the descent was a rail yard for the Blue Mountain, Reading, and Northern Railroad. Freight and passenger excursion trains are operated from here.

As I looked across the tracks I spotted Stick, and even from a distance I could tell he was excited beyond words.

Wait, let me rephrase that. Stick is never beyond words. Let’s just say he was over-the-top excited.

No, that won’t work either. A lot of what Stick does is over the top.

Any way, it’s suffice to say he was excited because he was in the midst of one of his passions. He loves trains.

As I got closer, Stick was in full meltdown. He followed a yard inspection car while trying to talk to the driver.

It was hard to blame him for his excitement. The rail yard was interesting and I thought it was fun that the trail took us through it.

I left Stick to revel in the rail yard as I followed the trail into town. It was tiny and most of the buildings were old. According to the last census, only 326 people live here.

I wanted to get to the post office before it closed at 4:30. I arrived at 3 p.m. so that wasn’t really a problem, but if I hadn’t gotten here in time I would have had to wait until 12:30 tomorrow before it re-opened.

My wife Kim had sent me a package to this post office, which included a trekking pole to replace the one with a tip that broke off on Day 86. She also added a few treats.

As I was outside opening the package and preparing to send back my broken trekking pole, Splat and Dory arrived. Stick had gone ahead to check out the Port Clinton Hotel, and came back to excitedly tell me about it. He was still acting like a four-year-old jacked up on Mountain Dew.

The four of us walked together back to the hotel, passing by one of the few retail businesses in town. It was, of all things, a peanut shop. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much there for hikers, other than the obvious peanut-related products and a few other candy bars.

I found it surprising how a business so close to the trail sold almost nothing for hikers.

The Port Clinton Hotel had an old boarding house feel. The bathroom was down the hall.

Knowing we were hikers, we were given strict instructions to shower before we went downstairs to the dining room for dinner. We were glad to oblige.

We had an enjoyable dinner with Dory and Splat. They weren’t staying in the hotel, but were camping down the road at a park with a pavilion provided for hikers by the town.

After dinner the four of us did our laundry together and hung out while it was in the machines. We discussed possibly trying to get a ride into Hamburg, a much larger town, so that we could resupply. Then we decided against that because it was getting late.

Stick and I gambled that we would be able to resupply tomorrow night. He had made arrangements for tomorrow to meet Bekka, who is the fiancée of Dapper Dan, a hiker he met early in his hike. Bekka lives nearby. She offered to pick us up for dinner and take us to Walmart to resupply, so we decided to count on those plans working out.