Rains hung around through the night and into the morning. I didn’t get going until around noon.
The trail through Maryland begins to take on the oft complained about rocks found in Pennsylvania, “where boots go to die.”
From pastures to slowly increasing boulder fields at this point.
It’s probably good I don’t have my headlamp. Night hiking through this stuff at night is asking for an ankle injury on a loose rock.
I made it up to High Rock Ledge and took in the sunset with some locals.
As dark descended we decided we were hungry and they drove me down to the city park at the bottom of the hill.
We ordered pizza, one for me, and the other for the three of them. It was delivered to the park at night by the burliest pizza driver the local pizza joint had on hand. I had one coveted slice of ham and pineapple left when it was over.
I carried it across the Mason Dixon line and celebrated by eating it cold in my seventh state, Pennsylvania.