Mason

Mason

Mile 1100.5: Tom Run’s Shelter, Pennsylvania

November 2019:

“You ain’t that redheaded kid.” It’s half declaration, half question. Mason stands with his back to me. He faces the flickering flames on this chilly star-filled night. I only see his sturdy profile. He wears a green jacket that blends with the shadows. We haven’t had much conversation since I arrived at the shelter.

I’ve laid out my belongings, join Mason next to the warm fire. I know who he’s talking about. Though I’ve never met the kid. I passed the missing boy’s mother and sister back in Caledonia State Park. “He’s not a danger to anyone else,” they said, “just to himself.” Their well-meaning assurance had the opposite effect to a solo hiker entering fifteen miles of wilderness. Now, I was worried for this kid, and for myself. So when Mason eventually apologized for his standoffish demeanor, I completely understood.

Mason and I passed an evening together at Tom’s Run Shelter, Pennsylvania. Through conversation between intermittent cigarettes, David told the story behind his trail name. Before the trail, he worked as a stone mason. But his work didn't stop while on the trail. Each night, when he first arrived at an AT shelter, David would re-stack the haphazard rock piles that made a fire pit. His devoted assembling m caught the attention of other thru hikers. Ever after, David was Mason.

Mason started thru hiking in 2011, though he'd always felt a draw to the AT. He grew up in Allenstown, another ~150 miles up the trail. 2011 was just the first time he started stringing together the sections. Every year or so since then, he finds a significant chunk of time to hike. “You know, close the shop and lock the apartment.”

Between thru hikes, Mason makes regular AT appearances near his home in southern Pennsylvania. He knows the trail and he knows the people. Just 77.5 miles NOBO was Rausch Gap Shelter, now infamous for its ghost town. Rausch Gap was once had a small mining town of nearly 1,000 people in the 1800's. When the mine closed, the prospective railroad was abandoned. And by the turn of the 20th century, everyone had moved away. Today the forest has reclaimed this site - only a small cemetery and some stone foundations remain near the modern-day AT Shelter. Mason had slept there before. He swore it was haunted. Not in a vengeful, terrifying way – but of a spooky, thrilling, sounds in the night, hunker in your bag sort. His eyes were earnest, voice steady but excited. I had no doubt he was sincere describing his experience.

He told me of Bunion, the 70-year old thru hiker who lost all his toes to frostbite. Bunion never really left. He was living in Antietam Shelter before they ripped it down this summer. The man would hitch rides between shelters and town in the PATC [Potomac Appalachian Trail Club] Section, hobbling the remaining miles between destinations.

There apparently was a gorgeous black-haired ranger who worked ‘the Mansion’ (a historic 2-story home, re-invented into a summertime thru-hikers hostel) at Pine Grove Furnace. He suggested that she, "Could be worth a stop", tomorrow morning in the direction I was headed. And the halfway points on my route – all three claiming to be the official AT marker between Maine and Georgia. Mason contained a wealth of Pennsylvania trail knowledge and will seemingly be a fixture of the region for years to come. He was headed SOBO today, “as far as his legs would carry him”. But he’d be back at Tom’s Run Shelter that weekend to meet a crew (of up to 80!) ex-military buddies.

We parted at sunrise, shook hands. He smiled. “I’ll see ya around,” he said, “I won’t forget ya. Just watch out for that red-headed kid”.