Airlift to Port Clinton

May 5-6, 2025

501 shelter to Port Clinton, PA

Mile 1220.2

Both Ezra and ESSC were out before I was—I had hopes of meeting another friend today. Beyond that, I wasn’t sure. The next shelter, Eagle’s Nest, was 14 miles out—if I covered it all, it would be my longest day yet. But I was starting late, and possibly meeting someone. It seemed unlikely. While I was packing up, Dutch walked in. I hadn’t seen him since Rausch Gap, and figured he’d be far ahead by now. He had a friend in the area, too, who had picked him up for an overnight stay and just dropped him off. Soon enough, though, he was off as well. 

I did end up meeting my friend, and she wanted to hike with me, at least at first. It was still rainy and kind of gross, though, so we soon backtracked and headed out for a lovely lunch off-trail. I talked over my options with her, and the question came: what if she just took me to Port Clinton after our hangout? How much did I care about seeing every blaze, covering every mile? I’d lost about 6 miles back in Virginia when I was injured, and another 2 miles or so in southern PA when Hoody had dropped me off at the nearest trailhead after taking me to Walmart. This would be a bigger jump, though. Was I OK with it? I decided I was. And in all honesty, I had not truly been able to dry off in days. The result was a truly short-mile day with a leisurely afternoon of hanging out and no deadlines of time or distance to consider. I had booked a hotel room right off the trail in Port Clinton for the following night, but they were kind enough to let me in early, even though they were closed on Mondays. By the time I said goodbye to my friend, most of my uncertainties were resolved. The hotel owner’s cousin met me on the porch, gave me a brief tour, and handed off the key. 

The town itself has a cool historical vibe.

Just off the trail at Port Clinton. Once I leave, I’m going up that hill.

The restaurant attached to my hotel served huge portions—more than I could eat at one go—and there was an old-fashioned candy store across the road that was fun to explore once it stopped raining. Ezra showed up the next morning—he had a reservation at the same place—and from his description of the descent into Port Clinton, I wasn’t sorry I’d missed the miles.