Okay, so sometimes I can be a bit presumptuous.

My sister accomplished a major goal in her life. She hiked to the tops of the twelve mountains in Maine over four thousand feet. The only one that I hiked with her was Old Speck. (See photo of her rejoicing on the fire tower atop Old Speck.) As a present, she bought herself a �76 powder-blue Corvette. She�s very proud of her Old Blue Chevy. She even built it a garage. For two years, she attended the Corvette Club convention in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, driving down in a convoy of Corvettes from Maine.

The first year, she suggested that I drive out for a visit. I, of course, exclaimed: �Hmm, that�s smack dab in the middle of a fifty mile section of the Appalachian Trail that I haven�t hiked yet.� So I sweet-talked her into picking me up at Pine Grove Furnace State Park, putting me up in her motel room in New Cumberland, and dropping me off the next morning at Duncannon. Which she gladly did. It should be noted that there is no trunk or other storage area in a Corvette. So we made the trip to the trailhead with my forty-pound backpack on my lap. And in five days, I hiked back to my car.

The next year, the Maine Corvette Club stayed in Gettysburg. I, of course, exclaimed: �Hmm, that�s only eight miles from my southernmost point in Michaud State Forest.� So I sweet-talked her into picking me up in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, putting me up overnight in her motel, and driving me to the trailhead in the morning. Harpers Ferry is only a fifty- mile trip. (I wonder why she doesn�t go to Corvette Club Conventions anymore?) Bright and early, I packed up my backpack, and she drove me to the trailhead. (Again with my backpack on my lap.) And I hiked off over South Mountain, headed back to my car. The first shelter (actually a double shelter) was Tumbling Run Shelters, about eight miles south, near Antietam Creek Park. I�m not a fast hiker, and I like eight to ten mile days. I arrive at the shelter in late afternoon, and settled in, filtered water from the spring. Dinner on the trail is usually early; nightfall is bedtime. I bring along freeze-dried packets for dinner, and oatmeal for breakfast.

Tumbling Run Shelters is about a half-mile in from the road to the park. The other shelter is filling up with young people (who assured the attendant from the park that they were hikers, not partiers. They lied. They partied long and hearty.) I started to prepare my dinner. I searched my backpack. I searched it again. There was no food! I�d left my sack of food in my sister�s motel room! All I had was trail mix. And a five-day hike back to my car. I made an entry in the register in the shelter, and waited till dark for bedtime. My map showed that about five miles down the trail there was a road that went into Rouzerville. I could re-stock in the morning. Two thruhikers came in, and shared the shelter. One of them gave me a pop tart. One of the partiers from the other shelter gave me a Cup-A-Soup. So I wasn�t starving. Locals near the trail are usually very kind to hikers, so I shouldn�t have any problem getting a ride into Rouzerville in the morning.

At seven A.M. I�m waking. The thruhikers are getting ready for their twenty-mile hike. The partiers are sound asleep (they partied until midnight.) I hear a voice: �Is my brother here? He forgot his food.� My sister was here! She had noticed my food sack when she got back to the motel the previous night. Knowing that I�d only hike about eight miles, and armed with DeLorme�s Pennsylvania Atlas, she had set out at four A.M., in her 76 Powder-Blue Corvette along the dirt roads of southern Pennsylvania looking for me! And, even more surprisingly, she found me!! And still made it back to the Corvette Convention in Carlisle for breakfast.

The rest of the hike was relatively uneventful (Passed through Crampton Gap, where The Blair Witch Hunt was filmed. Had my picture taken at the ATC Center in Harpers Ferry.) But a sister�s love is one of the great wonders of the world.