Port Clinton, PA —> Delaware Water Gap, NJ
I woke up to my foot throbbing and itching. I checked the bottom - the blister was bigger. I took my pocket knife, sterilized it with some bleach, then sliced it open. I realized then that I would never be a surgeon because my aim was horrible and I sliced it right down the middle. The blood drained but then I had an inch-long laceration on the ball of my foot that spread open with every step.
I tied my she's tight to immobilize it and got to hiking. I nearly passed out in the first few steps. “Eventually adrenaline will kick in and the pain will stop!” The pain persisted like my foot was on fire. I called my boyfriend and cried. Even though he was moving to Chicago that day, he took the time to
be comforting and reassuring and told me it was okay if I had to get off trail. I called a trail angel I had previously connected with on Facebook, Tom Kennedy who founded an organization called “Hike for Mental Health.” He told me if ever I needed anything to call him so I did and I lucked out because he was only forty-five minutes away in Port Clinton, PA. He drove to pick me up at the road crossing with an older female hiker in a skirt named Paint Splash.
On the car ride back to Port Clinton Paintsplash sat in the passenger seat and kept turning to talk to me in the back seat. She said she was thru hiking but hadn’t left the Port Clinton pavilion in weeks. She recounted stories about all the “trail tail” she had and offered copious details about the younger men she had “known” on trail. She asked if I had a boyfriend and when I said yes she said it was a shame because there was an extremely handsome hiker at the pavilion who would be perfect for me. She said he won the 4th of July pie-eating contest without getting any whipped cream on his beard. “Can you imagine?” she said and winked. She was old enough to be my grandma. I barfed a little in my mouth. I couldn’t wait to get out of that car.
We got to the pavilion and what I could only assume was the man she mentioned approached me. She wasn’t wrong, he was attractive. He was tall, lean, and shirtless. Little beads of sweat accumulated on his tan chest until gravity rolled them down over his tattooed washboard abs in the summer humidity. He was barefoot and wild and he had a chain that dangled from his neck with dog tags and a copper key that hung next to his heart. His blue eyes sparkled when he looked at me. I was spellbound.
He didn’t say anything he just got out his first aid kit, sat on a bench and invited me to join him with his eyes. We sat facing each other. “Take off your shoe,” he said.
“Sorry my feet smell,” I apologized.
“You’re a hiker - it would be weird if they didn’t,” he chuckled and took my bloody foot in his hands. He cleaned and bandaged my wound. I glanced at the key dangling from his chain. “TRUTH” it read. “All better,” he said. “It won’t get infected now. You should be back on trail in no time.” His looks were severe but he was kind (and seemingly the most sane person there). He was quiet and he had two pit bulls named Cerberus and Nova who I found, much like him, were reserved at first but once they trusted me were quite social.
“I’m Sarah. I don’t like my trail name,” I said.
“I’m Lionheart.”
Tom drove me to a trail angel’s house then left to pick up other hikers. Paintsplash, Storm, and another trail angel named Tambourine asked if Tom hit on me when we were alone. Tom was in his late 60’s at least. “He has a thing for young girl hikers,” they informed me. My skin crawled and I felt like I needed a shower. “Is everyone on this trail a pervert?!” I thought.
Lionheart showed up at the cabin around dinnertime and I finally exhaled. I couldn’t stand these caddy, pervy, immature older ladies gossiping about young men on trail and I needed an ally.
I sat on the floor with his dogs while the older folks made dinner. Lionheart sat on the floor with me and he opened up about his experiences in the Marines, his past drug addictions, why he’s vegetarian, and his general life philosophies around personal growth and change. He told me stories about his AT thru-hike the year before in 2017 with both his dogs. I began to understand how well his trail name fits. He was resourceful, resilient, and lionhearted.
He told me about the book “New Earth” by Eckhart Tolle and said he’d have it mailed to him from home so he could give it to me on trail. We made a plan to meet up at the Delaware Water Gap so he could give me the book and hike together for a few days.
My foot healed in two days so I decided to hike on. Before I left, I hugged him goodbye, temporarily. His hug was strong and protective. I melted in his arms but I knew I would see him again so I slung on my pack and walked away.
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