Hate yourself and want to suffer? Hike Pennsylvania’s ‘1000 Steps’ trail.

MILL CREEK, Pa. — Sometimes you forget how horrible something was, the cramps that made your thighs tremble, the burning in your lungs as you sucked for oxygen like a dying fish.

I suppose that forgetfulness is a relief in a way, how some folks can get multiple tattoos or maybe how women can have more than one kid. The body forgets what that pain was like and you push on.

I was reminded of this one recent day in June on a sadomasochistic quest to hike what’s essentially a rock staircase that goes straight up a mountain near the Juniata River in Huntingdon County. The trail’s called “The 1000 Steps” and guess what, it’s way more than 1,000 steps.

Unfortunately, I arrived in a very bad mood during summer’s biggest heat wave, so far. I told the photographer I’d been with earlier that day, elsewhere in Huntingdon County, along with the train enthusiast we’d been interviewing, that I’d likely cut the hike into a quarter.

“I’ll do the 250 steps,” I joked as our heads sweated like sprinklers.

No one would care or ever know if I cut the hike short, but I hate letting myself down more, so I willed my skinny legs into action. I didn’t sleep well that week, but I’d be haunted by step 750 and 900 if I didn’t soldier on. I was already sweating heavily during the short walk from the car to the trailhead. I told a guy stretching his quads on a Honda I “probably wouldn’t make it” and he told me to “take my time.”

I had to beat him up there.

The 1000 Steps, of course, don’t begin at the trailhead. Why would they? You have to ascend a rocky trail into the forest for a few minutes, like you’re meandering the queue to get on a Harry Potter ride at Universal Studios — except flies are buzzing around your head and the Central Pennsylvania weather is somehow worse than Orlando.

Once you reach the signage for the 1000 Steps, there’s a small history lesson to read. The steps were built in 1936 as a commuting path for workers coming to and from a quarry. There are signs like this all over America and it blows my mind, a country full of young men who likely smoked and snacked on sardines while hiking in boots made of wood and old leather. Up and down they went every day, and I’m half-dead with my gallon of spring water and moisture-wicking shirt.

The popular hiking app AllTrails.com ranks the 1000 Steps as a “hard” trail with 843 feet of elevation gain over 1.5 miles, out and back. I’ve done hard hikes with much more elevation gain in Pennsylvania, California, Maine, and Alberta, but I also knew there was no respite on the 1000 Steps. Just stairs upon stairs. Brook Lenker, executive director of the Keystone Trails Association, admits that AllTrail’s easy/medium/hard ranking is a little simplistic. Pennsylvania alone has 473 trails listed as “hard” by the app likely because it’s so mountainous and infamously known as “Rocksylvania,” the destroyer of boots, by seasoned Appalachian trail hikers.

“When you get into the heart of the ridges and valleys, up and down and up and down, it can get real tough,” Lenker said. “And many of those ridges are very rocky.”

Lenker mentioned Pennsylvania’s 327-mile Mid State Trail as one of the state’s most grueling, along with the Black Forest Long Loop and its whopping 8,421 feet of elevation gain over 42 miles.

“If you’re looking for a true tough test in the PA wilderness, this trail is for you,” a reviewer wrote of the Black Forest trail.

Something about the 1,000 steps felt more cruel, though, the unrelenting slog upward, like a crucible you step into during your lunch break. One reviewer described it as “hell.”

“Not for the faint of heart … you just have to convince yourself you are having fun,” another wrote.

And here’s the sadomasochistic part, something the old wrestler in me embraced. I enjoy the compromises you make with yourself on punishing hikes: five more steps and you can drink water, 25 steps and you can sit for two minutes, 200 and you’re done. Every moment is a test you can pass and, at least mentally, a way to feel better about yourself by accumulating little wins. I had a coffee mug my kids made me for Father’s Day one year, with my favorite sayings on it: Fill your heart with love, embrace the struggle, and never give up.

“Two out of three,” I muttered to myself about the mug on the hike.

Once, when I was resting on a rock, a middle-aged man running down the stairs stopped to catch his breath. He told me he tries to do the steps daily. His wife had just retired and was diagnosed with cancer. I told him I was sorry and he ran on. Life sideswipes you so often, sometimes you stop flinching.

When I got to the 1,000th step and saw there were still more to go, I uttered an f-bomb and trudged on. I hate math, and hated more that it failed me that day.

Eventually, I made it up to the top and visited something called the “dinkey shed,” an old stone maintenance building people told me I had to see. It was a cool place to rest, to send selfies to people who didn’t see them, then I started my descent. I passed the man who assured me I’d make it and we fist-bumped.

“It’s worth it, right?” he said.

Then I had to embrace the struggle of going down, my quads quivering like jelly until I got to the car. Some time soon, I’ll forget how badly this day hurt.