Out of Carlisle and into Duncannon

April 27-29, 2025

Carlisle, PA to Duncannon, PA

Mile 1150.3

Leaving Carlisle, I walked up a busy road until I saw a bridge overpass with “Appalachian Trail” written on it.

I wasn’t sure how to get up there, though. Eventually, I ended up just sort of bushwhacking through brush and trees on the north side of the highway until I hit the trail. Much later that day, I would find leaves and twigs from Carlisle still in my hair.

Carlisle is still in the flat area of the Cumberland Valley, so there were pastures and fields to cross before ascending back to the ridge. I could hear the hum of electric fences nearby in places as I walked, and for the first time, saw some dead animals lying on the trail—a possum, and several mice. I’d also been told not to filter water from any sources near this area, as there may be chemicals from nearby farms and businesses. Every now and then, there was a wooden stair step up and down over some of the fencing. I wasn’t sure how to feel as I went through this area.

The terrain had been a nice change of pace, and made for easy miles.

Crossing I-81–another windy hold-yer-hat experience

The views were sweeping and often beautiful.

But it didn’t really feel like the trail to me, if that makes any sense. 

Eventually, though, I made it up to the ridge and back into the woods. Darlington shelter is the first one you hit on leaving Cumberland Valley—there is no camping allowed there, for the most part—and I made it there by lunchtime. I still felt fresh, but my options for going forward felt limited. According to FarOut, there was only one campsite between here and the next town, Duncannon—and that was only 1 mile further, with no privy or water access. The next water was 3.5 miles along, but after that, nothing until the next shelter. That shelter, Cove Mountain, was 7 miles along and had a spring that was .3 miles down a steep hill, which would not be ideal if I wasn’t staying there. And I didn’t want to stay there. All the comments on FarOut were talking about the porcupines.

Alleged home of porcupine gang

Yes. Porcupines, by all reports, had taken over the Cove Mountain shelter. There were references, either bitter or sardonic, in all the visible comments about porcupines hanging out in front of the shelter building, lurking under it to chew on the wooden supports, startling folks on their way down to the spring, and apparently mating at night when folks were trying to sleep. I imagined a 1950’s-style gang of porcupines loitering at the hiker A&P, and had to smile. Another comment suggested camping on the access trail to “avoid all the porcupine drama”—a viable option, but I might still have to run some kind of porcupine gauntlet to get water if I made that choice. 

Duncannon, meanwhile,  was only 11.5 miles away: very doable in a single day at my current pace. If I set off from here tomorrow, I could completely avoid the porcupine party up at Cove Mountain.

While I was puzzling this out, ESSC showed up. I hadn’t seen him since Pen Mar, and we caught up a bit. He had already decided to stay at Darlington and head into Duncannon tomorrow. Then Shuttle walked in with a long-bearded hiker named Tinker, who I hadn’t met yet. All three had apparently come from the same hotel in Carlisle that I had, and all of us were bound for the same hostel in Duncannon. Later, a hiker I hadn’t met named Keith came in, as well as a thru hiker from Germany whose trail name was Ghost. Ghost was doing 30-mile days, making great time. He wanted to finish the trail quickly and do some traveling on the East Coast before his visa ran out. Both Keith and Ghost were also headed for the same hostel, a place called Kind of Outdoorsy that I’d originally heard about from Hoody, the keeper of the hostel I’d stayed at in Pen Mar. Looked like it was going to be a full house.

I set out earlyish next morning and walked the ridge towards Duncannon. I was tempted to stop at Cove Mountain and look for porcupines, but I didn’t—I wanted to get to the hostel before the resupply store closed at 4. Recently, I’d been having trouble getting my shoes on In the mornings—my feet were swelling, and by the end of a full day’s hiking, the shoes felt actually tight. I knew the hostel sold some gear, so I was hoping to take a look, and in the probable event that I’d need to get to a bigger outfitter to buy new shoes, arrange a shuttle.

The best view of the day came at Hawk Rock, just before a steep, knee-breaking descent into Duncannon.

I was wiped by the time I walked into town, but I’d made it just before 3PM, even with a can’t-resist-it stop at a 7-Eleven on the road in for snacks and a hot sandwich. 

The trail in Duncannon goes straight through the town.

The Doyle Hotel in Duncannon is kind of an institution, but I was in more of a hostel mood.

There were only used shoes at the resupply, and none in my size; it looked like I’d need to make a trip into Mechanicsburg to the REI, and both timing and shuttle availability were against me for getting it done tonight. I arranged to stay an extra day, and made plans to get as much other professional and personal business taken care of as possible to make the most of the extra day off.

Bunks at the hostel

there was an area on the wall for each year’s ‘class’ of hikers to sign

So of course, I added mine :)

The selection at REI was not as wide as I’d hoped. They did have the same shoe I was wearing, but not in a big enough size for my now-larger feet. I tried several types of trail runners, but eventually went with a pair of Merrell Moab 3s—an actual hiking boot. It feels like most folks switch from boots to runners, but I’ve done the opposite. They’re a bit heavier than my old shoes, but also better with ankle support and keeping my foot from pronating over the sole. I also had to get a pair of men’s shoes, because my feet are now just that big. I asked my shuttle driver on the way back if people’s feet went back to normal after these long hikes, or if they just stayed bigger forever.

“Heh. You know what, I’m not sure,” she said. 

Guess I’ll find out.