Trip Report: “The End of the World as We Know It” (Loyalsock Trail, North Central Pennsylvania) (June 18-21, 2026) (60.5 miles)

Albina ate pickles as a side dish with her dinner. It was lucky she did so.

We sat eating around an unlit fire pit at a dark, unremarkable campsite. We had just backpacked 25.5 miles and were exhausted. Veronica asked the group if anyone intended to hang their food in a bear bag. I smugly declared that I never sleep with my food. The anxiety of a bear, or even a mouse, smelling it and investigating while I was sleeping would dimmish the quality of my sleep—at least. This triggered a passionate discussion. Logan was not nearly as fastidious as I. He admitted that he almost always sleeps with his food and has never had a problem—but, on the advice of counsel, disclaimed his practice as a recommendation. Others chimed in with their opinions on the topic. As it grew darker, each hiker placed his or her bets with their food and dispersed to their tents.

I slept easily. The cool evening temperatures in the low 50s, combined with the fatigue of a day well-hiked knocked me out.

Hyewon startled me awake with a series of high pitched, short yelps. Our tents were all close together in the small campground and hers was only a few feet from mine. I made a mental note to tease her about her midnight sleep-yelping. I checked the time. 12:30 a.m. I rolled over to return to sleep.

I don’t recall waking, but I do remember my blood curdling scream. And I’ll never forget staring into the eyes of a vicious wolf! Alarmingly, only a thin sheet of bug netting and mere inches separated man and beast. His teeth gleamed in the moonlight and his eyes narrowed at mine. He was likely rabid. This could be the end of the world as I know it, I thought. I yelled at him as I reached for my headlamp hanging next to me. I shined it at the wolf in the brightest setting and, thankfully, he scurried into the darkness of the woods.

“There is a raccoon in our camp,” Veronica stated flatly in a voice too calm for the occasion. Ok. Maybe it was not a wolf, I thought hopefully. I then heard Haigang (“Two Gangs”) shout from the other side of the camp, and saw lights slicing through the night, searching for the animal. For the next hour or so it felt like the boardwalk arcade game “Wack-a-Mole,” where we backpackers were the moles, and the raccoon was the wacker. As he went to various tents, the relevant occupant shouted out and shined a flashlight. The sporadic shouts and blinding light flashes kept us all awake. The raccoon never revisited my tent, a fact I attributed to having wisely hung my food far from our tents. I had nothing to interest it. At one point I saw both Maddie and Two Gangs outside their tents searching for the critter. I cringed at this. Haven’t they ever seen a horror movie! The one who gets out of his or her tent gets wacked! The iconic Jaws riff started playing in the background. Da DUM, Da DUM, DaDUM, daDUMdaDUMdaDUMdaDUM—I waited for the screams that never came.

I must have fallen asleep because I certainly awoke with a start and a gasp. I looked at my watch. 5:00 a.m. I listened to the silence of the woods as I laid still. It was unnatural. Usually in the early summer one hears a steady din of bugs, frogs, breezes through the trees, or birds. I listened carefully and heard . . . nothing. Was I dead? I awoke and exited my tent to investigate for signs of carnage. I counted eight erect tents that appeared in good condition. There were eight of us on this trip. My bear bag was hanging where I left it across the campsite, and I retrieved it as I looked around nervously. Back at my tent, I quickly zipped up my bug net as if that would do anything to protect me.

An hour later, Maddie deadpanned a bland wake-up call for the group. “Good morning, DC UL” she said barely above a whisper, sounding defeated. “Is that it?” I asked incredulously. “That is the witty, enthusiastic wakeup call worthy of a DC UL Assistant Organizer?” “I couldn’t think of any songs or things about raccoons,” she replied in a humorless voice.

As I was packing my pack, I heard others talking about the raccoon. We compared notes. Albina, who had slept with her food was convinced her pickles repelled the raccoon. I doubted this but later, when she got a cell phone signal, she consulted AI. It confirmed that pickles and raccoons don’t mix. She could be right, I thought, making a mental note to add pickles to my food bag for future trips. However, Logan said he slept through the evening escapades with his food safely next to him in his tent. The raccoon did not visit him. Did he have pickles? Nope! Two Gangs noticed that the raccoon got into his food bag that was hanging near his tent. Chet admitted that a mouse got into his food bag the prior evening in the vestibule of his tent, eating some prized snacks. Maddie was untouched. Pickles? Nope. While it appeared there is no correlation between food location, pickles, and raccoon visits, I resolved to maintain my practice of hanging my food each night. Veronica shared my resolve. As for Albina, she won’t be in the woods without pickles. We packed quickly, unaware that a future encounter with a bear and rattlesnake would minimize the concern we had about a mere trash panda.

# # # # #

DC UL Backpacking returned to the Loyalsock Trail in north central Pennsylvania for the first trip of summer. One of the most picturesque trails in the mid-Atlantic, it is just over 60 miles of lush forests and streams on the Great Allegheny Plateau. Maddie posted the trip and, after an unusual amount of attrition for a DC UL trip with a good weather forecast, eight of us signed on to hike. The combination of Father’s Day, Juneteenth, and Summer Solstice on the same weekend likely diminished the turnout. That was too bad for those who couldn’t come. The weather delivered the best temperatures of the year—highs in the low to mid-70s and lows in the 50s. Except for five minutes of rain on two afternoons, there was no precipitation. There was not even any overnight condensation on our tents.

We drove to the trail from all directions. Two Gangs and his dog, Mocha (“Sam”), arrived from Ohio. Chet and Hyewon came from Baltimore. Maddie and Logan were the only ones from D.C. Veronica, Albina, and I carpooled from Virginia. Remarkably, we all arrived at the western trailhead within minutes of each other. We set up the shuttle and started hiking in the waning daylight of the year’s longest day due to the summer solstice.

We hiked six miles up the plateau enjoying the “free miles” after the sun set. (Night miles are “free” miles. If you can’t see them, you can’t feel them!) We arrived at our campsite located next to a lake, made camp, and immediately went to sleep. It was almost 11:00 p.m. That night I heard cows doing construction work by the lake. Logan later told me he thought I really heard bullfrogs and woodpeckers or beavers. However, we’ll never know. I heard what I heard.

To wake us Friday morning, Maddie rose to the occasion with an invigorating rendition of REM’s iconic song “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine).” Some of us joined in the chorus. We would be hiking through the oddly named “World’s End State Park,” so the wakeup song was certainly apropos.

We hiked westbound along the attractive trail. This was the most well-maintained section of it, and we made very good time. I had hiked this trail three years ago and it rained predominately throughout the trip. So, this time, with almost no rain, the trail seemed very different.

We hiked through World’s End Park. Logan told me the Park’s dark name was not nefarious. Instead, it was named by workers brought there who felt that it was so remote it was like being at the end of the world. Back then they likely hadn’t yet learned the earth is round.

In the Park we passed a snack bar. For the first time in recorded history, a group of backpackers passed a snack bar and nobody stopped—not even for ice-cream! I thought it was too early in the trip to crave snack bar food, and I had a full pack of food I was carrying. Clearly others felt the same way.

It was a long day with 26 miles to cover and significant elevation gain and loss. However, there were nice long stretches on the plateau to stretch the legs. We passed waterfalls, pine forests, and fields of ferns. The cool weather made the walking very pleasant. Chet took a long nap after a particularly tough climb. The final few miles were particularly challenging due to several deadfalls to hike around and through. That evening, we camped at what we now call “Camp Raccoon.”

Saturday morning, we had another big day with almost 23 miles to hike. It started much like the prior day, but then took a re-route to Angel Falls. It was a good decision of the trail planners to do this. The falls were dramatic despite the low flow due to drought conditions.

After more forest walking, we reached a gravel road for a long stretch on the top of the plateau. I deployed my trekking umbrella to shield me from the bright sun but did so simply because I had it. It made me feel marginally cooler in the already agreeable temperatures.

We passed a private hunting club that featured a “member’s only” restaurant. Some DC UL backpackers in the past talked their way into letting them eat there, but I didn’t even try. I later learned that Maddie, Chet, and Two Gangs successfully talked their way in for burgers and fries. Maddie wore a blaze orange hunter hat on this trip, so they probably presumed she were “one of them.” Maddie learned that membership is very inexpensive. On a future DC UL trip to Loyalsock, it is worth having a member join just for access to the restaurant. That member could waive in the others as guests. It would cost only $5 per person.

It was around the corner from the restaurant that Veronica, hiking alone, ran into a bear! She recoiled and the bear ran away from her down the road. She thought it unwise for a bear to hang out around a private hunter’s club. However, Logan suggested it could be a good survival strategy. Where is the last place one would expect to find a bear? In the middle of a private hunter’s club! This strategy certainly worked for that bear so far.

As if a bear encounter was not enough for Veronica, she later jumped back at the rattle of a rattle snake. She backed up slowly as the serpent slithered across the road. If Veronica appeared jumpy that weekend it was because she was startled by a raccoon, a bear, and a rattlesnake. I told her about my close encounter with a Northern Cardinal bird. She was unimpressed.

Off the gravel road walk and back into the woods I stopped for lunch along a gently bubbling creek. Logan stopped and had snacks with me. Vernica happened upon us, greeted us warmly, but kept hiking. The recent animal encounters clearly rattled her. (Did you see what I did there?)

The end of the day was tiring. Not only was it a second big milage day, but our campsite was on top of a very steep knoll without a water source. So, we had to have a big water carry up a cliff-steep slope. However, the view from the top was delightful—especially in the morning looking down above the clouds whipped up in the valley. We sat together for dinner and enjoyed each other’s company before bed.

Sunday morning, we woke early to hike the final six miles to our cars. Most of the hike was along the rim of the plateau before a very long, steep descent off it. A plateau of ferns became a pine forest and became a mountain laurel jungle in full bloom. We reversed the shuttle, ate brunch at Dolly’s (aka Buttered Biscuit) in Williamsport, and completed the loooong drive home.

As the north Pennsylvania forests faded in the rear-view mirror, REM’s theme song of this trip repeated in my head: “It’s the end of the world as we know it . . . and the raccoon is doing fine.”