The 501

May 4, 2025

501 shelter 

Mile 1196.7

It was a quick walk from Stay-AT-Swatara to the trailhead, across a bridge, down a service road, and under the freeway before I hit woods again.

Today it would be rainy again; I had William Penn shelter as my safety, 7 miles out, but I was really hoping to get to the 501, an enclosed cabin shelter 4.5 miles further along with a caretaker, a spigot, access to charging, and a port-a-potty. Given the thunderstorms that were supposed to hit this afternoon, an enclosed shelter sounded brilliant, even without the rest.

The trail up to William Penn was alternately rocky and muddy. I dutifully paused every hour to sit, eat something small, and drink water—always less fun when it’s raining.

Beautiful, but not necessarily fun

On one of these sits, a young man with a beard passed, and we exchanged some small talk about the weather. His name was Ezra, and he’d been on the trail for just under a week. The trail runs near his home, and he was taken by the idea that he could walk right out of his backyard up to Katahdin. Like me, he was liking to go to the 501, with William Penn as a bailout. 

It was just after we parted ways that the true downpour started. There was no real way to stay dry, despite my gear; it was just a matter of slogging through. Infuriatingly, the rain stopped just as I got to William Penn. Ezra was there—he had eaten, taken his shoes off, and was weighing his options. It was only another 4 or 5 miles to the 501, but this day had been a literal slog. I ate my lunch, but left my shoes on; I knew that once I took off the wet shoes, I would be super reluctant to put them back on. My hiking day would be over.  And it was only 1:30.  

We left the shelter together, but he soon outpaced me. And the rain resumed, though mercifully not as hard as it had been. And the trail was an easier walk as well, with fewer rock gardens to navigate in those final miles. I found myself thinking that this would be a better memory to end the day.

Route 501 is a busy road, and a familiar one. I imagined it stretching and rolling all the way out to Lititz, where it becomes one of the main streets in the town where I’d lived until quite recently. Once traffic eased enough for me to cross, I looked for the white blaze and found, next to it, the turnoff for the shelter. It was a short walk before I hit the building itself, tucked into the woods in a way that made it hard to believe the road was as close as it was. Ezra was there, of course, but so was ESSC, who had taken a rest day after staying the night before. The cabin was spacious, with bunks, chairs and a skylight that ESSC had used effectively to dry his wet gear.

The 501

It felt as good as a hostel—especially when it turned out that the rumors were true and you really could order pizza to the trailhead. The three of us demolished a large pizza and a 2-liter of soda, enjoying the company and the warmth of a four-sided building. ESSC and I caught up; I shared that lately I’d been thinking of myself as more of a section hiker than a thru hiker. I’m getting so much out of this, but the longer I do it, the more I think that it would be better to make this a long-term hobby rather than a push-through single experience. I’ve identified far more with the section hikers on this trip so far—maybe because the thru hikers I’ve met are speeding through so quickly that I don’t get as much chance to know them. I told ESSC that I’ve decided to call this a section hike with an indeterminate end point. That felt right, and ESSC later shared that he’d been thinking along the same lines for his own hike. As I fell asleep that night, I found myself thinking about how far I might want to go. I definitely want to clear Pennsylvania. I don’t think I want to go as far as Maine or New Hampshire yet, and I think I’d like to end before we get into super hot weather. Guess we’ll see.

This shelter is one of a few scheduled to be closed up within the next few years, and the hiker log was full of notes from folks who will mourn its passing. Gossip differed as to reasons—it’s too close to a road, shelters with caretakers cost more, general budget cuts mean fewer shelters overall, etc. Whatever the reason, it seems a shame to lose such a cool place on the trail. I’m glad I was able to experience it at least once.