Trip Report: Wet Sock, Dry Sock, Loyalsock (Loyalsock Trail, PA Thru-Hike) (Oct. 6-9, 2023) (59.5 miles)

“The sparrow hops along the veranda, with wet feet.” — Haiku by Masaoki Shiki

I officially declare the Loyalsock Trail in Pennsylvania the best long-weekend backpacking trail in the mid-Atlantic. Having long heard praise of it, I weirdly never had the opportunity to experience it. Having now completed a thru-hike, I added it to my top 5 list of favorite DCUL backpacking trips.

An increasingly odd DCUL paradigm is the number of people who sign up for a trip only to drop off. This trip followed that trend. Out of 18 people who signed up, only 6 of us hiked it. I’m sure the weather forecast and aggressive daily mileage splits influenced some of those decisions. However, that was too bad. Loyalsock is the rare trek best done when it is cool and wet. High mileage days also suits thru-hiking this trail since so much of it features long stretches of plateau walks.

We dove to north-central Pennsylvania after work at 3:00 p.m. After setting up the shuttle, we set off to hike the trail from East to West at 8:40 p.m. Naturally, it was dark so we hiked 6 miles that night by headlamp. Initially, the weather was cool, but not cold. The anticipated rain did not fall and we cheered our good fortune. Ashley (“Bright and Early”) had been habitually checking the weather forecast on the long drive to the trail. The report called for an 80% chance of rain that evening and into the following day. I pointed out optimistically that we enjoyed a 20% chance of no rain, which did little to cheer anyone up. My comment about how lucky I am with weather did not resonate, either. My fellow hikers had read my trip reports from prior trips, some of which involved hurricanes and others unexpected squalls. Nonetheless, as we hiked in a single file line without a drop of moisture to touch us, I loudly declared my “Spider-Man guarantee”—there would be no rain this trip!

As we walked along the trail in the dark with headlamps, Logan (“More than ‘Just’ Logan”) commented on it. He was the only person in our crew to previously thru-hike Loyalsock. He hiked it from West to East then, saw the scenery in the daylight, and knew what we were missing. He recounted how spectacular this part of the trail was, inspiring me at even this early stage to plan a return to this trail.

As we walked, we frequently veered to the far right or left of the trail to avoid small puddles. There was no sense getting our feet wet if the “Spider-Man Guarantee” held.

About a half hour into the hike, our headlamps illuminated what looked like bugs or snow in our beams. I tried to pretend it was not rain, but eventually my effort at mass deception failed. However, it was just a light drizzle. We briefly debated whether it even counted as “rain.” The debate ended when it became a true rain and MTJ Logan deployed his TRDD. I followed suit as others raised hoods. This confused me because I truly believed my “guarantee.” However, the fact that I did not put any money down on it relieved me.

We arrived at our intended camp site around 11:00 p.m. and quickly set up shelters. No sooner had we all retreated inside did the skies fully open up and the rain became a downpour. I came back out to hang my Ursack. Bright and Early later told me she intended to do the same but when she heard the hard driving rain she concluded not even a bear would venture outside in that kind of weather.

It rained all night long. Few of us slept through the night because the rain kept waking us. At least it was soothing and we were dry inside our tents. Ultralight shelters, like those most of us had, are terrific to carry but have a big disadvantage. In cold, humid nights—especially rainy ones—condensation is a challenge. For me, occasional hard drops of rain on the outside of the tent caused sprays of light condensation on the inside of my tent to lightly spritz my face. It gave the illusion of a leak. Fortunately, it did little more to me than occasionally wake me and lightly moisten the top of my down quilt.

We woke in the steady rain at 6:00 a.m. to begin hiking at 7:00 a.m. Bright and Early, true to her trail name, started hiking at 6:30. MTJ Logan followed her shortly thereafter. Our trip leader, Mark (“Brightside”) held to the 7:00 start time he announced, as did I. When we left, Mike (“The Wolf”) and Wasal (“WB”) were still in their tents.

The hard overnight rain and the continuing rain understandably made the trail very wet. Effectively, the runoff found the trail so inviting the trail became a stream. Brightside and I constantly waded through the trail. When one’s feet first get wet on a hike, it is disappointing. Dry feet are more comfortable and less prone to blisters. However, once one resigns oneself to fate and embraces the wet conditions, it is a lot of fun. If you have ever been a child happily stomping in puddles you know the experience. The trail crossed a large number of bona fide streams. Being so hopelessly wet resulted in us making no effort to rock hop across any of them. The water was running so high, this was almost never possible anyway. And, what would have been the point? The entire trail was a stream. It was fast and fun to just ford the streams. It actually felt nice. We crossed a few streams where the water was rapids. I’m over 6 feet and the water was often over my knees.

This section of Pennsylvania is part of the Great Allegheny Plateau. Thus we were on “mountains” in name only. Over millennia creeks and streams cut gorges and valleys into the plateau making it feel like mountains. I’ve hiked other long trails in this part of Pennsylvania—the Black Forest Trail, the Donut Hole Trail, and the Susquehannock Trail System Trail. The Loyalsock trail spent the most time on the plateau of all of them. If you like cruising on relatively flat plateaus, this is the trail for you! Undeniably, there was significant elevation gain. We clocked a total gain of almost 11,000 feet. However, the gain was mostly very well-graded with only occasional steep punches to remind us that this is Pennsylvania. So, it was one of the easier trails I’ve hiked. While hiking, I noticed, and upon checking my stats upon finishing confirmed, that there is much more total elevation gain traveling West to East than East to West. So, if you are looking for the easiest way to thru-hike the trail, hike West.

As we cruised along, I passed by a wedding in progress right on the trail. Lost in my own world, I did not realize I was crashing a wedding until I passed a pretty woman walking under an umbrella in a poorly-fitting blue formal ball gown. One does not usually see such a thing on a backpacking trail in the hard-driving rain. She was not smiling. Only after I saw a second identically attired, dour-faced woman several paces behind her did I realize I was in the middle of a wet wedding procession. (Do brides intentionally make their bridesmaid friends wear unattractive dresses? I suppose I’m not one to talk this way. I was holding a TRDD and wearing a rain kilt. Together, they are effective at repelling both water and dignity). I stepped off the trail so that the bride and her father—also with an umbrella—could pass even though, technically-speaking, I had the right of way because I was the one hiking uphill. As we passed each other she whispered to me, “The sparrow hops along the veranda, with wet feet.” However, I may have misheard. She could have said, “get the f—k out of my wedding procession!”

At this point I truly got lost. The Loyalsock Trail club did an outstanding job maintaining and blazing the trail. Maybe the unusual wedding confused me, but I lost the trail and was descending off the plateau. I checked my map to confirm that I did not plan on descending at this point and noticed the sudden absence of Loyalsock blazes. I turned around an hiked back up to the plateau and saw Bright and Early and MTJ Logan hiking on a gravel road parallel to me on the trail. They lost the trail, too. After consulting the maps, we saw that the road intersected the trail just a bit further. So, we walked the road for a quarter mile.

The trail passed a large number of waterfalls. Each one was more spectacular than the last. With such an overwhelming parade of beauty, I stopped taking pictures of them. I knew that photos never truly capture the experience anyway. As we approached one, a sign on the trail offered a choice. It warned of a ladder ahead and offered a route without a ladder. I chose the ladder route thinking that if it looked too dangerous I could always retrace my steps. I’m glad I took that chance. The waterfall fell in a picturesque gorge and the steady rain swelled it to a delightful roar. Many do not realize that the word “gorge” is the root word of “gorgeous.” Thus, when you say that a woman is “gorgeous,” you mean that she is pretty—and has cold, wet feet. We climbed the sturdy ladder alongside the waterfall.

We arrived at our intended camp site around 5:00 p.m. The rain stopped at 2:00 and it was nice to have that break. Everything was so wet a fire did not seem worth the effort. We made our dinners around the unlit fire mound and went to sleep early. We had hiked 25 miles.

We woke the same time as the previous day to continue our adventure. The forecast called for a cold front to arrive, plunging overnight temperatures to freezing. We hoped to have an opportunity to fully dry out our wet tents, feet, and dampened quilts. Even though the rain ended for good, there was no opportunity to dry out anything.

The trail continued its beautiful, wet theme. A long stretch of this leg passed through private property (with permission). However, there were a lot of transitions between trail walking and gravel road walking. Clearly, not all of the private owners of the surrounding area granted permission to route the trail across their land. We passed a restaurant with a sign reading “Welcome Hunters!” It advertised “breakfast every Sunday 8-12.” I checked my watch: 10:30–just in time! I had a fluorescent orange vest hanging from my pack to protect me from any hunters, but it could have been a great disguise. I’m not a hunter, but I could pretend to be hunting for breakfast! Sadly, I knew from prior DCUL Trip Reports that this was a private club. While some hikers talked their way into admission I wasn’t feeling so desperate. I later learned no one else tried, either.

Our evening campsite was a high knoll that involved the steepest climb of our trip. Making it more challenging was the lack of a water source on top, so we had to carry heavy water. It was worth it, however. Once at the top we had a wonderful view of the valley and river. We even enjoyed a rainbow.

The Wolf arrived first. He had been lagging on Saturday due to a sore back and poorly fitting pack. He clearly rallied. He suggested a fire for the evening. I remained concerned about how successful a fire would be with all the soaking wet wood. However, I struck a deal with him. If he was willing to try to get it going I’d help collect firewood. This turned out to be a great deal. As the cold front moved in and the temperatures started plummeting, it was very nice to have all of us sit around the fire for warmth and fellowship. When I learned that the Wolf did not know the campsite was dry and neglected to hike up water, I offered him a half liter of mine. He promised to pay me back a full liter the next day. Uh, thanks . . . 

The Wolf impressed us all with his culinary skill. While we all ate ramen or dehydrated pouch meals, the Wolf began sautéing wild mushrooms he had been collecting during the hike. He is part of a mushroom group where members look for and photograph the mushrooms they discover. However, it is a competitive group and few reveal the exact location of their prize. The Wolf was particularly proud of having found a cache of mushroom that to me resembled a loaf of bread. He happily broke it apart and put it in his pot, along with the other mushrooms, two packages of ramen, and a variety of spices. It looked and smelled great. Generous, he offered samples. Many partook, but I realized that my level of risk tolerance is much lower than the Wolf’s. He seemed to know his mushrooms, but many are poisonous. What if he was wrong? Earlier, I disapproved of his tent site selection. It was directly under a partly-fallen dead tree held up at at 45 degree angle only by a relatively thin-looking branch on a neighboring tree. With 20 mph winds predicted for our knoll, I suggested that he move. I pointed out that his head was exactly where the dead tree would fall if the supporting branch snapped. He looked up and seemed to agree. However, rather than move his tent he simply reversed his quilt so that his head would be less directly below the guillotine. He shrugged off my concern that if the tree fell that it would strike his waist or legs to catastrophic effect. Fatalistically, he pointed out that the healthy-looking trees near my tent could also fall. This was true. However, it seems riskier to me to pitch a tent under a tree known to be dead and leaning on a thin branch than under a live tree. So, it is within this context that when he offered me a sample of a stew of wild mushrooms. I simply concluded that he and I have very different levels of risk tolerance. Happily, he was right—the tree did not fall on him and the mushrooms did not sicken him. We had hiked 22 miles.

It was a cold night, but I was comfortable. We woke in waves the next morning. MTJ Logan, Brightside, and the Wolf volunteered to set out early to reverse the shuttle. (There was not enough room for everyone to fit in the single car we left at the western trail terminus). Bright and Early, WB, and I lingered a bit. It was first time since Spring that I needed a winter hat and mittens.

The last part of our hike was not nearly as spectacular as the first part. The Eastern-most 30 miles of the Loyalsock is the best for scenery. However, the Western-most side features the biggest descents. As if to remind us that “yes, this is really Pennsylvania,” the trail took a sharply steep decline off our campsite knoll. Then, at the very end, we took a treacherously steep decline to the terminus. We hiked 6 miles.

Brightside identified a terrific diner for breakfast on our way home—the Buttery Biscuit in Williamsport. We all looked forward to it. It turned out to be excellent and should be a staple DCUL stop to rival Knickerbockers in Altoona.

As Bright and Early and WB waited with me at the terminus for the others to complete the shuttle reverse, we remarked at how nice it was to have dry feet for the first time while hiking on that trip. Without the rain, and without stream crossings, it was easy to have dry feet. Bright and Early said she keeps one pair of socks for hiking, knowing they may get wet. She calls them her “wet socks.” She keeps a second pair for sleeping and fastidiously keeps them from possibly getting damp. She calls them her “dry socks.” This time she accidentally brought a third pair. She forgot they were in her pack but was glad to have them on this freezing morning. It was almost as if they packed themselves knowing she would want them on this trip. How is that for loyalty? I don’t know what she calls this third pair of socks. Maybe she should call them her “loyal socks?” (Did you see what I did there?”) 

—-Spider-Man (David O.)