The Appalachian Trail passes within about fifteen miles of Pottsville, Pennsylvania. Months ago, upon learning this fact, I marked this as a town I would visit during my hike. For those unaware, Pottsville is the home of the Yuengling Brewery. I have been a fan of the beer for years. When you roll into town, it doesn’t take long to see that brewery is a big deal to the home folks. As evidence of this, the “Welcome to Pottsville” sign is subtitled “Home of Yuengling’s”.
Brewing in this building since 1831
The brewery tours departs hourly from the gift shop. Like a true tourist, I bought a hat and a bottle opener, which I had shipped home. The tour was interesting to me because they have a good story to tell. I’ve seen plenty of stainless steel vats, so seeing the equipment didn’t interest me as much as hearing the history.
David Yuengling emigrated to the United States in 1828 and founded the business one year later. After the original brewery burned down, he rebuilt at the present location in 1831. He picked the location because it lent itself to digging a cave into the hillside and also for its proximity to a natural spring. Ironically, the brewery sets directly adjacent to the Church of Saint Patrick, both buildings being among the oldest in Pottsville.
The Yuengling Cave
They continue to brew beer in this building, although today the cave only functions as a tour stop. The brewery is now run by Richard Yuengling, the fifth generation of Yuengling to own the business. At age 75, he is still working, and is frequently seen around the brewery. He has four daughters, all active in the business. Two of them kept the Yuengling name when they married, and the other two went with hyphenated names. In any case, the Yuengling name will live on.
Randy enjoying a taste
During the fourteen years of Prohibition, Yuengling survived by brewing non-alcohol and low-alcohol beers. When Prohibition ended in 1933, Yuengling sent a truckload of its celebratory “Winner Beer” to Franklin D. Roosevelt at the White House.
Another small town that the AT passes right through is Port Clinton. The town is the home of the Port Clinton Barber Shop, which has a reputation of being “hiker-friendly”. My hair had gotten pretty long such that without my hat and needing a shower, I could resemble an escapee from some institution. I decided to give the barber a go.
Barber Shop Ambiance
The Port Clinton Barber Shop has kind of a hipster vibe, looking like a cross between a salon, coffee shop, and second hand store. Frank, the owner, describes it as a “poor man’s country club”. There were several guitars sitting around so if you had the talent and were so inclined, you could serenade the other patrons. Frank, a musician himself, says once a month he has a band come in so you can listen to live music while getting your hair cut.
Haircuts are $8, flattops $12. With Johnny Cash playing in the background, I opted for the regular haircut. While cutting my hair, Frank said he was a little short-handed that day, so his 92-year-old dad was helping out. I noticed that his dad would do a haircut, then sit down for a while to rest, then call up the next customer. Frank said his clients come to his shop from all over, which must be true since Port Clinton has only 317 residents.
Port Clinton Barber Shop
Randy sporting his new cut
By now, I have completed the entire section of the Appalachian Trail that passes through Pennsylvania. I would be lying I didn’t say that I am happy to see the end of that state. The last 160 miles of trail in Pennsylvania follows the spine of the Kittatinny Ridge. On the ridge, water was hard to come by and the scenery rarely changed. To fetch water at the shelters, it was typical to have to hike a quarter to a third of a mile down the side of the ridge to reach a spring, then mule the water back up to camp. One day, there was a 17-mile stretch between shelters with no water sources, so I ended up carrying four liters of water (almost 9 pounds) in the 90 degree heat. Fortunately, the more water I drank, the lighter my pack became.
And then, there are the famous Pennsylvania rocks. As far as I can tell, the Kittatinny Ridge is one big giant pile of rocks, with a thin covering of soil and vegetation. Let me paraphrase Doctor Seuss to describe how I feel about the rocks.
Do you like rocks?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
Do you like giant boulders to scramble over and around?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
Do you like the slippery, slanted slabs that try to make you fall and break a leg?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
Do you like large rocks on which you can hop rock to rock?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
Do you like medium rocks that teeter and totter under your feet?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
Do you like small rocks that line the path like a bed of nails?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
Do you like boulders in the trail through which you weave your feet like a sweeper on a curling team?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
Do you like the small, sharp rocks that stick out of the mud like dragon’s teeth and try to trip you or stab you in the foot?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
Do you like the submerged rocks that bend your tent stakes?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
I do not like giant boulders to scramble over and around.
I do not like the slippery, slanted slabs that try to make me fall and break a leg.
I do not like large rocks on which I can hop rock to rock.
I do not like medium rocks that teeter and totter under my feet.
I do not like small rocks that line the path like a bed of nails.
I do not like boulders in the trail through which I weave my feet like a sweeper on a curling team.
I do not like the small, sharp rocks that stick out of the mud like dragon’s teeth and try to trip me or stab me in the foot.
I do not like the submerged rocks that bend my tent stakes.
I do not like rocks.
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
Here is are some pictures from my “rock collection”.
I have been seeing Indigo Buntings since the Carolinas. It was only the other day the I captured a photo of the female to go along with my photo of the male. This is another case where the male is strikingly colored with the female having a much more subdued appearance.
Indigo Bunting (Male)
Indigo Bunting (Female)
Other flora and fauna…
Bee Balm
Large Snapping Turtle in the trail
Rattlesnake in the trail
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I’m pretty sure Rich took me hiking thru those same rocks…..Also known as “My Last Hike”
I think I recall hearing about that hike…