Category Archives: travel

Poking around the PA Parks

#Pennsylvania State Parks, #PennsylvaniaStateParks, travel, ,

Last year, as I might have already reported, my husband and I purchased a Pennsylvania State Park Passport, a chubby little guide to all the state parks and state forests in the state. It cost $10, and as we always want to get our money’s worth, we’re now determined to visit as many of the parks as possible.

We set out to visit three parks over the July 4 weekend, both within an hour and a half’s drive from our vacation home near McConnellsburg. The first one, Memorial Lake, was a bust since just as we were exiting our car for a scenic picnic, it started pouring! Nevertheless, we did get our passport stamped, and also got some good advice from one of the park rangers.

Without her enthusiastic recommendation, we would never have found “the cabin” which she assured us is a must-see at the other nearby park, Swatara. Why, we asked? Because it has a waterfall behind it, she reported. It is also not on the trail map which we picked up, but she marked it’s location with an “x” and we went on our way with hopes the sun would come back out.

After eating our picnic in the car while waiting for that illusive orb, we set forth on a rail trail toward the mysterious cabin-with-waterfall. It is actually a well-preserved but now open (as in, no glass in the windows, by design) sort of shelter for picnics and, by arrangement, overnights. And, yes, there is a waterfall behind it which makes for a very dramatic view from the back windows.

The cabin was built in the late 1930s by a local “shop” teacher named Armar Bordner. It wasn’t inside a state park then… it was just a hideaway he built with the help of his students – which was legal and perfectly okay back then it seems.

Eventually, the park was planned and eminent domain threatened to take over Bordner’s retreat. He cut a deal to stay until his death, then bequeathed it to the state (with some Boy Scout deal in there too as I recall). Through the magic of YouTube, we can hear Bordner’s voice and get some further details of his history, if you are so inclined. Swatara State Park also includes a fossil pit where you can search for the state fossil, the trilobite. We didn’t get to do this, though, because it started raining again.

The next day we met a friend for a picnic at Pine Grove Furnace State Park. This park has a lot to offer – access to two lakes, the Appalachian Trail, and the Appalachian Trail Museum, as well as a historic iron furnace and associated buildings.

I went kayaking on the larger of the two lakes, Laurel, which was a treat. The water lilies were in bloom, and it was acceptable, it seems, to kayak right through them. I worried a little that I would be harming them, but apparently they just bounce right back.

Two days, three parks, three new stamps in our passport. And the adventure shall continue…

The cabin.
View of waterfall from back area of cabin.
It’s always a thrill to walk even a tiny bit of the Appalachian Trail!
Kayaking among the water lilies.

Fort Ward Wander

Alexandria, Northern Virginia, travel, ,

Well, we got through winter (though it tried to come back last week), and now it’s time for more outdoor adventures. In the category of “get to know your NoVa,” my husband and I visited Fort Ward Park in Alexandria last week. This is a fairly large park which meanders around a neighborhood off of Braddock Road.

What is this park all about? We wondered that even as we started wandering around it more of less aimlessly. We parked in the first parking lot we saw, which is near the (currently closed) museum. The first signs we saw were interpretations of the African American community that had been located there right after the Civil War. These are newer signs, and a pretty good interpretation. (In the brochure you can read in this link there’s a nice group of “first-person memories” of the community, which as a folklorist I appreciate.) Does anyone other than me find it somewhat ironic that this community was displaced by the establishment of this very park, making it necessary for the city of Alexandria to interpret the history of the community that WAS there until the 1950s?

A large part of the park is actually an interpretation of the Civil War era fort, “a bastion of freedom,” which is partially reconstructed. Like most Civil War forts that were built surrounding Washington, DC, this fort never saw any action. But it was ready for action, with big guns at the ready, underground stocks of ammunition, and rifle trenches. Which you can clamber around, as long as you stay on designated paths. (But, no sunbathing as per signage.)

There are also lots of nice trees (at least one of them with a name as per below), an impressive gate, and a number of benches and picnic tables, and some adjacent tennis courts and open spaces where games could be played (though not in the “historic” portions). Still, the whole site has an air of not being sure exactly what its purpose is. Recreation site? Civil War interpretation site? Or site to learn about the community that used to be there but got moved because this somewhat schizophrenic but pleasant enough space was constructed/reconstructed?

If an actual battle had been fought here, I would have felt more inclined to be in awe of the battlements and artillery. It would feel more like “sacred ground” which one should think deeply about (see my Gettysburg ruminations). But, to me, it seemed like they could have really let the African American community stay there and continue to grow and prosper.

Here are some scenes from the Fort:

This slightly sad looking cannon thing did not make it to the main interpretation of the fort but was lurking behind some outbuildings on the edge of the park.
A big gun awaiting action that never happened.
The signage about the fort could do with a bit of sprucing up. We appreciated this sign as we had just needed to recall the word “parapet” to complete a NYT crossword puzzle. I am anxiously awaiting the use of “scarp” and “abatis” in future puzzles.
One would assume this means only the immediate historic area around the restored part of the fort. Because there are picnic tables and inviting open fields for games nearby. Sunbathing, though, is something entirely different, no?
The signage interpreting the African American sites is newer and well done. Despite this being interpreted as a cemetery, there are no evidences of graves here, but it is appreciated that they identified the site of a graveyard and have it roped off, at least.
This quote is kind of poetic but – um – more than just a bit condescending?
We could find no explanation of why this tree was named “The Beatley Tree.” If anyone finds out, let us know.

Peaceful Paddling

#palmettodunes, travel,

January seems like a dream now, one where I was paddling serenely through the placid waterways of the Palmetto Dunes home/condo/golf course/hotel/tennis court/etc complex. [NOTE: They call these “plantations” down there. Nuff said.]

I discovered that for a not too bad price, one can join the “kayak club” at Palmetto Dunes outfitting store/rental area and get unlimited access to kayaks whenever one wishes for a whole calendar year. So you know, frugal person I am, I had to challenge myself to get out there as often as possible.

My goal was to hit all 11 miles of water trails in the “lagoon system,” and I am somewhat proud to say I reached the goal, even did a couple of parts more than once in my seven trips out. In case you are picturing a tropical paradise, it was somewhere between the high 40s and low 60s most of the days I was out there, but you work up some warmth paddling and if the wind is not hitting you face-on, it’s not so bad.

Kayaking around Palmetto Dunes is interesting as a lot of the views are of the waterfront “back yards” of some very swanky homes and golf courses that come right to the water’s edge. Still, there are also a few wilder areas with just trees (lots of pines and live oaks with overhanging Spanish moss), and plenty of birds: the ducks and cormorants who fly straight at you and then veer away at the last minute; the pelicans who dive beak-first at great speed; the herons who stalk the shores waiting for that unsuspecting prey; the ospreys who swoop gracefully overhead, sometimes carrying a big fish in their beaks. No gators or other wildlife in evidence this time of year.

The air is fresh and pine scented and when you get away from the roads and the sounds of construction (seemed like a lot of roof repairs going on for one thing), you hear only the swish of your own paddles slicing through the water. I rarely saw any other paddlers, even though lots of those waterfront houses had kayaks piled up near their docks.

Those folks don’t know what they’re missing.

This is one of the highest end “single family homes” in Palmetto Dunes I encountered on my paddles. Though a lot of times these get rented out for destination weddings and stuff I think.
Yeah, good advice. Though I think the gators kind of hibernate in the winter.
Shot off the bow. It wasn’t always this calm, I was fighting a chilly wind on some occasions. But the effort keeps you warm!

row of historic lime kilns in Canoe Creek State Park

Industrial Echoes

#Pennsylvania State Parks, industrial heritage, travel,

A trip to one of Pennsylvania’s 111 State Parks is as likely to uncover some of the state’s industrial past as it is to introduce you to natural wonders. Case in point, our visit yesterday to Canoe Creek State Park in Hollidaysburg.

In this case, it is the state’s once-thriving limestone industry that we learned a bit about. I say “a bit” because although you can view what is left of the two historic lime kilns (see photos below), the interpretation consists of three pretty worn interpretive signs, and the small museum/interpretation area at the park office was closed. (Double bad luck for us as we were hoping to get our recently acquired Pennsylvania State Park Passport stamped!)

One of the signs reminded the reader to think about how this quiet, seemingly bucolic parkland was once teeming with sound, sights, and smells. My imagination ran even further into the senses, speculating that you could probably have even tasted industry in the air as smokestacks belched, engines sent fumes billowing, and sweat poured off laborers.

Now, all we could hear was our own footfalls, a few distant crows calling, a woodpecker drilling for insects, and – when our trail skirted a scattering of homes on the outskirts of the park – a tinkle of wind chimes in the distance. The air was fresh in the mid-40s degree weather, and the dappled sun illuminated what was left of the autumn leaves in the tall maples, tulip poplars and oaks.

Ghosts and echoes of industry past, fitting for a Halloween hike.

What’s left of the Blair group of lime kilns stand like sentinels to a more industrious past.
View from the top. Steve attempts to glean helpful info from the park brochure. Or perhaps starts mapping our course on the notoriously unhelpful trail map.
Limestone, limestone everywhere. The trees which have grown up in the hundred or so years since the limestone industry thrived here cling tenaciously to it.
The second kiln site is more ghostly, half hidden in the overgrown woods.
A portion of the trail follows the old road bed of the railroad which carried the processed lime to market. Traces of the crumbling railroad ties are underfoot.

Lake Affects 2: Loony Tunes on the Pond

Adirondacks, memories, travel, Uncategorized, , ,

During the second part of my vacation, I joined my old high school buddies, Debi, Debbie and Chris on an Adirondack adventure. (Not that this was really “roughing it”, but tent camping in your 60s is an adventure in and of itself. No matter how soft your camp mattress is, you wake up stiff and fold yourself out of the cocoon of the sleeping bag slowly and ungracefully. Groaning.) Lots of fresh air and space for distancing, especially after Labor Day.

We met up at lovely Rollins Pond. Why are some of the innumerable bodies of water up there are called ponds and some lakes? Apparently it has to do with the depth. But anyhow, Rollins is a pretty big pond and most camping sites are situated a short distance from the shore. Perfect for kayaking or taking a swim right from your “back door.”

Water-based activities by day, roaring campfire by night. This was our “routine” for three days.

The first full day there we set off in kayaks after breakfast and encountered one of the famous northern loons and her chick swimming placidly along. I regret the decision not to bring my phone with me to snap some shots, because I got close enough to stare into the mom’s beady red eye and to scare the chick into keeping close by her side. During various parts of the day, especially around dusk and dawn, we heard their haunting call.

I was hoping to see another loon or two when we took a sunset paddle, but alas we only crossed paths with a large group of hooded mergansers. I was prepared with my camera this time, though.

After dinner, Chris chopped a couple of humongous logs into oblivion, and the dry wood Debi and I had purchased along the way kept the stockpile going. Toasted on our front sides and chilled on the back sides, mesmerized by the glowing coals, we sipped wine and gossiped for hours about our acquaintances.

Our family always took camping trips when I was a kid, so this form of vacation always brings back childhood memories. I recalled how my mom would save up waxed half gallon milk cartons for the trips, and each night when bedtime approached, she would bring them out, one for me and one for my sister. She set them on the back of the fire pit and set them on fire. When they had burned down to ashes, we had to go to bed, no whining or cajoling for more time in front of the warm campfire allowed!

We didn’t have any such time restrictions on this trip, but by ten p.m. we were ready to call it a night and climb into our cocoons, lungs full of fresh pine-scented air, lulled to sleep by the loons.

Home away from home. (That was the name of our pop-up camper when we were kids by the way; Debbie and Chris have not named their small RV.)
The merganser group takes in the sunset.
Even a non-spectacular sunset is worth a paddle. Can’t complain about the one we got.
Second day paddle started in Rollins, through a stream to Floodwater Pond and through more channels like this one ending eventually in Fish Creek Pond.

Lake Affects I: Misery (Bay) Loves Company

#Pennsylvania State Parks, Presque Isle, travel, ,

After a spring and summer of way too much time on screens, I took a week and half off for a two-part vacation offering lots of water views. First destination to celebrate my husband’s birthday: Erie, Pennsylvania.

After a meandering trip through the back roads and small towns of western PA, we arrived in Erie just in time to catch a great sunset at Erie Bluffs State Park. After that we hunkered down in our semi-rustic cabin near Elk Creek.

The next day was our “discover Presque Isle” day. Presque Isle (“almost an island” in French) is a name shared with places in Maine and Michigan, so it will sound familiar to many. The Pennsylvania version is a peninsula, called aptly, The Penisula by the locals, jutting out between the bay and the open waters of Lake Erie. Erie is the next-to-smallest of the Great Lakes, but is still pretty darned impressive in size and scope. The Peninsula is entirely taken up by a state park with lots to offer for a day around, on or in the lake.

First stop was Misery Bay and the Perry Monument. I was thinking, Perry the Arctic Explorer and wondering what the heck the connection was. How wrong! We’re talking Admiral Oliver Hazard Perry, the War of 1812 hero here. Through the extensive series of historic markers flanking the obelisk honoring Perry and his brave men, we learned that after their grand defeat of the British navy, they wintered-over in this bay.

On a warm and calm late summer day, the bay near the memorial looks inviting and benign. Not so in the winter of 1813-14. And maybe in any other winter for that matter. It’s name, Misery Bay, stems from the freezing temperatures and sickness that killed off a dozen men that season, and made the rest of them, well, miserable.

Luckily for me, the winds were behaving and the air was fresh. I embarked on the Lady Kate, a sight-seeing boat which, with social distancing and everyone wearing masks (including our narrator, who regaled us with information for 90 minutes straight) took us on a trip across the bay into the open waters of the lake.

After the boat ride, we had a picnic, explored Horseshoe Pond with its ring of over twenty houseboats, and viewed the picaresque black and white channel marker from the shore. I dipped my toes into the cool waters at one of the beaches before we left in late afternoon.

The next day we did a bit of a walk-around in downtown Erie, parking on the edge of Perry Park which features a looming statue of the hero. “We have met the enemy and he is ours” is his famous quotation. For our part, we met Erie, PA and now it is ours in memory and pictures.

Sunset on Lake Erie from Lake Erie Bluffs
The sky kept getting more impressive after the sun set. Birthday Boy documents.
The Lady Kate awaits passengers near the Perry monument.
Houseboats of Horseshoe Pond.
Channel marker which looks like a mini-lighthouse, is as photogenic from shore as from the water view. There’s also a “real” lighthouse which is also much photographed.
The Man Himself presiding over downtown monument in Perry Park.

Getting the Hang of It

Central Pennsylvania, McConnellsburg, The Pulpit, travel, Uncategorized, , ,

“Let’s go jump off a mountain!” No thanks. Standing cautiously on the very top a ramp that ends in nothingness makes me queasy. I take in the view, but step back to safety seconds later.

  • One wonders what happened to this gentleman.
  • Behold the giant thumb!

Visiting The Pulpit, a hang gliders dream launch spot near our vacation cabin above McConnellsburg, PA is a must to take in the splendors of south central Pennsylvania. The rocky promontory, located a little ways beyond the iconic biker beer joint The Mountain House, apparently got its name from a visiting preacher who expounded from the stony perch.

Up a small rock strewn slope, there are two wooden (and, to me, sort of creaky looking) ramps, one smaller than the other. If you go at sunrise, which I never do because I prefer my warm bed at that hour, you can face east and get a glorious view over the ridges. At sunset (the better option in my opinion), you get the view over the town, the farmland and to the western mountains.

One of the many interns who lived with us temporarily over the years, Anneke from Germany, came to the cabin with us one wintry weekend about ten years ago. We walked to the Pulpit and she met some intrepid hang gliders from the club that frequents the site. She fell instantly in love with the idea of learning to hang glide, or, she later decided, to paraglide.

If you think hang gliding sounds risky, paragliding is even more crazy. Instead of jumping off a ramp into nothingness strapped to some substantial wings, you jump into nothingness tethered to a wide parachute held precariously by a bunch of thin ropes. She successfully mastered this bizarre hobby, and last time I checked she was still alive and well.

The view is thrilling enough for me. Leave flying to the birds.

Pawpaws to the People!

tourism, travel, Uncategorized

It’s pawpaw season, and festivals celebrating this regional native fruit are popping up all over. Visiting one of these seemed like the folkloric thing to do, and in fact I couldn’t believe that I had somehow reached my advanced age and had not done so already.

The Pawpaw Festival in Albany, Ohio (near Athens, and also near the United Plant Savers sanctuary which my adventurous colleague and partner in crime, Arlene, and I were visiting this week) is, I would dare say, one of the biggest in the country. We spent a couple of hours there experiencing All Things Pawpaw.

First, the taste. Upon arrival, we sought out the free sample tent where we could set the mood. Volunteers sliced us a big hunk and explained that you just squeeze the soft, yellowish pulp out of the rind, and swirl the big dark pits around in your mouth to get all the good stuff off them. (Then throw them out because they are poisonous if chewed and consumed, apparently.)

Next we found the craft beer tent, where for a few bucks you could try a variety of pawpaw brews (and take the glass home to boot). We listened to a band that defied genre classification, and then made our way to the food court. We sampled an Indonesian satay with pawpaw peanut sauce, and later tried Thai mango sticky rice with pawpaw mousse.

There were also vendors selling pawpaw bread, official paw paw festival t-shirts with designs dating several years back, and pawpaw plants. (As well as a lot of non-paw paw-related stuff.) We were saddened to have missed the pawpaw cook-off.

A full harvest moon rose over the festival grounds, as we finally admitted paw paw overload. Still, I insisted on stopping by the free sample tent one more time to leave with the sweet custardy taste still lingering on my taste buds.

  • Kombucha in various pawpaw flavors (still tastes I assume like vinegar)
  • Pawpaw peanut sauce is a winner in my mind.
  • This is what a pawpaw tree looks like.
  • There were no pawpaws in the coffee thank goodness.

Monumental Moments

Central Pennsylvania, travel,

A visit to Gettysburg is certainly sobering. The main attraction of this small city in south central Pennsylvania (no matter what the tourist literature says about “fun activities for the whole family”) is following crawling traffic through a bucolic countryside to gawk at an endless series of soaring monuments commemorating men killing each other.

That is cynical, I realize. But realistic. The artwork and craftsmanship that went into these monuments is impressive. Standing among the tortured angels and stalwart fallen soldiers and officers on horseback, you are all too aware that thousands upon thousands of men (and some women too I suppose) died horrible deaths all around you.

War is hell, that is clear, and the Civil War battles fought in Gettysburg on July 1 – 3, 1863 were among the most hellish. Fifty thousand dead. Fifty thousand – dead.

It’s difficult to know what to feel. Proud of those who fought? In despair of so much loss of life? Glad that the Union was victorious in the end, and the States united once again? All – or none – of the above?

When we got to the towering Pennsylvania Monument, despite the number of people ambling around the fields and climbing the stairs to view the vista, it was relatively quiet. Until a thundering boom resounded through the staircase; a cannon fired by a park interpreter. Just one boom, but it shook the building, and the psyche of the assembled visitors. For one awful moment, pride, despair and victory seemed irrelevant. Survival seemed foremost.

Maybe, in the end, that is the lesson we take away from a visit to Gettysburg. The deep, basic struggle for survival, and empathy for those who didn’t.

We Were There: A Visit to “You Are Here,” in Jeannette, PA

#YouAreHere, travel, ,

Jeannette, Pennsylvania is a small city east of Pittsburgh, which I probably never would have even considered visiting before. But, then, at a meeting of Pennsylvania folklorists last year, a friend and colleague formerly from Arlington, Mary Briggs, reported on the community art space she was involved in downtown Jeannette called “You Are Here.” And, I wanted to be there.

Downtown Jeannette

It took about a year, but I finally achieved that goal this past week. I brought with me my husband (who said, more than once I think, “Why are we going to Jeannette again?”) and three boxes of used but serviceable art supplies for their resale shop.

Mary greeted us at the door of the narrow storefront on the main drag, and introduced us to her “partner in crime,” Jen Costello, and they gave us the tour. The first thing one notices in the entryway is a colorful display of carved and painted canes, part of the “Lean on Me” project that Jen initiated to provide canes to those in need, mostly the elderly. The canes are works of art and stories in themselves, and are often customized for their new owners.

  • Carved canes, each one unique.
  • Gallery space featuring work of local artist Larry Beaver.
  • Mary looks through my donation of used art supplies.
  • Jen shows off one of her favorite canes.

The second thing you notice is a big chalkboard with upcoming events: gallery openings, free movie showings, classes and workshops, and other fun stuff. (Mary joked about their taste in movies, reflected in the most recent offerings, “The Blob” and “Son of the Blob.”) Next up, the gallery, an open space that doubles for movie showing and other public events.

Tucked behind the gallery is the resale shop, whose name further illustrates the quirky humor of Mary and Jen – it is called “Oh, Scrap!” At the very end of the row is office space and a couple of small artist studios. The second floor, which is undeveloped so far, will eventually hold a couple of apartments for artists.

In short, there is a lot of “there” at You Are Here. If you find yourself in southwestern Pennsylvania, you should go there, too.

Yarn bombed parking meter out front.