Category: Scenic places to visit

Binky Lee

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One of my most glorious days of hiking was at Natural Land Trust’s Binky Lee Nature Preserve. This oddly named 112 acre tract is a former farm on a hilltop in Chester County south of Phoenixville. Natural Lands Trust is letting the farm revert back to meadow and forest, and they have four miles of trail snaking through the site. I had a spare day in October and headed out, not knowing what to expect. Rarely have I been so rewarded on a hike. 
The skies had been promising rain all day, but the skies cleared and the sun came out. The afternoon light gave a glow to all it touched. Although just past their peak, the colors of fall were around me. For the best part of more than two miles I felt as if God had created the world so I could photograph it. The hike was a loop around the central meadow at Binky Lee, but I’ll let the photos tell the story 

Eventually the threatened rain materialized, and I was wet when I got back to my car. I sheltered under a tree for a few minutes, listening to the rain falling on the grass and leaves. One of my best hikes. I know I will be back.

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Appalachian Trail Conservancy Headquarters, Harpers Ferry, WV

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After the CASA ride in Shepherdstown, my friend and I drove the ten miles to Harpers Ferry to visit the headquarters of the Appalachian Trail Conservancy. The ATC headquarters is located on the edge of the historic district in the town, next to the buildings of Storer College. We parked at a church a block from the headquarters and followed the backpackers.

The ATC consists of a store, a scale model of the trail, some displays about notable hikers and the history of the trail, and a hiker’s lounge with a bathroom, shower, couches, microwave, and a hiker’s box. In addition there’s a bulletin board outside the building for messages. The displays were interesting, although not as extensive as those at the AT Museum in Pine Grove Furnace.  I searched for a panel on Mark Sanford, perhaps the only politician ever to use hiking the AT as a cover story for cheating on his wife, but he was missing. Oh well, perhaps next year.

All in all, the ATC headquarters was a nice place to visit for a few minutes. Its not the prime reason to visit Harpers Ferry, but its worth a stop. And any purchases support the trail. 
There was one question unresolved in my mind as I left. And three weeks later it still nags at me. 

Did Hedgehog ever call Tebow? And what did they talk about?

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Appalachian Trail Museum, Pine Grove Furnace State Park

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A short walk from the Ironmaster’s Mansion hostel and the Pine Grove Furnace General Store is the Appalachian Trail Museum. Located in a restored building from the iron days of the site, the museum has exhibits about the trail and some of the notable through hikers. I’d joked to one of my friends “what would the AT museum house? Grandma Gatewood’s sneakers?” And I was right. Note that Grandma Gatewood was ahead of her time in wearing Keds on the trail; minimalist shoes are now all the rage.

Despite my jokes, I found looking at the gear, including footwear, to be interesting. Of course the trail today is different than when Earl Schaffer laced up his Red Wings in 1948 for the first documented through hike. But modern gear and technology only helps the hiker, it doesn’t make the hiker. Its not the shoes that hike the AT, its the man or woman in them. 

Aside from Shaffer and Gatewood, a half-dozen other pioneers of the trail were profiled. I checked and Mark Sanford wasn’t among them, but aside from that omission the museum was fascinating. The centerpiece of the museum is an old trail shelter, and the walls are covered with signs from the trail, including the end all northbound folks want to see.

I’m glad I devoted a little bit of time to visiting the Appalachian Trail Museum, and I encourage you to do so as well.

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Boulder Field, Hickory Run State Park

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Are you ready to rock?

Mike and Roscoe, my companions on my visit to Hickory Run State Park, weren’t prepared for Boulder Field. Mike, the friend holding the camera, was impressed with the 16 acres of glacial moraine deposit. What Roscoe thought I cannot say. Then again, he’s a dog.

Boulder Field impresses the visitor, and it helps that there’s a sense of drama to viewing the rocks. There’s little to tip you off to what you will be facing. Hiking towards it on a trail or walking from the visitor parking area you may notice a few more rocks amid the trees and undergrowth. Then through a break in the trees you see a patch of rocks. But its not until you get to the edge of Boulder Field that you realize “hey, this place is BIG.”

One goal I have is to cross the field. As you can see, that’s a lot of rock hopping. I didn’t attempt it this visit. Neither did Mike or Roscoe. Another goal is to hike the Boulder Field Trail, which is seven miles round trip. Perhaps on my next visit to Hickory Run? 

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Pottsgrove Manor, Pottstown

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Pottsgrove Manor isn’t a hike unless you park far from the site, but its worth a visit. The home of John Potts, iron magnate and one of the wealthiest men in the colonies, was built in 1752. At that time he owned thousands of acres of land along the Schuylkill River. That land is now Upper, Lower, and West Pottsgrove Townships, while the small town that formed around the mansion house was called “Potts’ town” and eventually Pottstown. John Potts probably never expected his estate to grow into a city of 22 thousand people, and his land to shrivel to a few acres. But that’s what happened, and why a historic site is down the street from a gas station and facing a Comfort Inn.

The property is now managed by Montgomery County, and there are regular tours and events. Two I’ve attended included the Christmas tours complete with carolers and candlelight, and the May festivals with dancing on the green and a Maypole. Pottsgrove Manor is one turn off Route 100 as you cross the river into Pottstown. For hikers and cyclists, its a short distance from Riverfront Park and the Schuylkill River Trail. 

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Cunningham Falls State Park, Maryland

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I’m that rare American not fond of driving. I drive, and drive daily, but I find no joy in it. So when I’m faced with a long drive I find places to stop along the way. When headed to Western Pennsylvania I use Samuel S. Lewis and Caledonia State Parks as places to stop and walk around. I’ve done the same when I’ve been headed to Western Maryland or West Virginia. And on the latest WV trip I stopped at Maryland’s Cunningham Fall State Park and hiked the Falls Trail.

Tumbling seventy-eight feet, Cunningham Falls is Maryland’s largest cascade, and there are multiple ways to approach it. One way is the Falls Trail I took, running a half mile from the parking area up and down rolling climbs. The state park abuts Catoctin Mountain National Park, and there are two trails to the falls on the NPS side – a walk of a third of a mile from an ADA accessible parking area, and a 2.8 mile hike from the visitor’s center.  The two parks have different observation platforms, on either side of the stream. 
I have to admit that while I’m glad I went, and I enjoyed viewing the falls, I found them difficult to photograph from the state park platform. If I hadn’t been planning a twenty-five mile bike ride the next morning I’d have done some rock-hopping and wading to get a better and closer photo. The platform wasn’t well placed and struck me as overgrown. Next time I’ll go to the national park and hike their longer trail, and try for better photos. 
My hike went OK, but no better. My stamina is my weak point these days. It used to be my knees, but I had little difficulty hiking this trail after a day of driving and a hike at Samuel S. Lewis Park a couple of hours previously.

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Samuel S. Lewis State Park

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Not all Pennsylvania State Parks are vast expanses of woodlands. Some are small pockets of forest and field. Samuel S. Lewis is one such park. Its little more than a hilltop, with the usual picnic tables, restrooms, and children’s playground. But what a hilltop it is…..

Located near Wrightsville, just outside York on the Susquehanna River, the park is 85 acres of land encompassing 885 foot Mount Pisgah. Like most of what are called mountains in Pennsylvania, the ‘peak’ consists of a rounded hill. From the observation area on the hilltop you have what I estimate to be a 120 degree view of the river. Upstream you can see the Route 30 bridge, and the Route 462 bridge next to it. One hundred fifty years ago there was a covered bridge at that location, and as Confederate troops advanced in Pennsylvania Union volunteers set fire to the span.

I hiked for two miles on the Hilltop Trail, circling the park and climbing up Mount Pisgah. I’ve been to Samuel S. Lewis State Park four times previously, but I’ve never been able to hike the trail before. The climbing, gentle as it is, was too hard on my defective joints. This day it was stamina that was the problem. The knees worked as they should. I was tired but I felt triumphant as I climbed.

It was a small victory in a small park, but it was my own. 

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Mont Alto State Park

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Mont Alto State Park, opened in 1902, is the oldest park in the PA DCNR system, and its one of the smallest. I have an unexplained fondness for this park. It’s like one of your grandfather’s cufflinks – old, cute, small, but useless when you think about it. Still, I like the park, and visit when I can.

The park is on Route 233 on South Mountain, a few miles north of the Mason-Dixon line. The park consists of a picnic area, restrooms, a play area that’s seen better days, a bridge over the West Branch of the Antietam Creek – yes, THAT Antietam Creek – and a carousel shell. Mont Alto was originally an amusement park, and the roof of the carousel was used to cover a raised picnic area.

The trails in the park are short and seem to go nowhere. There are forest roads on either side of the park one can hike on, but for this trip I restricted myself to lunch ‘under the big top’ and walks along Antietam Creek. The creek isn’t very wide or deep, and it jumps and runs over rocks like other streams in the South Mountain area. This cascade I found interesting enough to photograph it from both sides.

Fed and wet, I left the park and headed north to Tumbling Run, where I got wetter.

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Pine Grove Furnace State Park

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My Memorial Day weekend was spent in one of my favorite state parks, Pine Grove Furnace. I love the trails, the riding, the hiking, and the artifacts of the ‘iron age’ in American history. Rather than camp, I stayed at the restored Ironmaster’s Mansion, run by the Central Pennsylvania Conservancy. The mansion, built in 1829, serves as a hostel for Appalachian Trail hikers.

I arrived at the Ironmaster’s Mansion hostel late in the afternoon, and after checking in and meeting the new innkeepers, I headed out for a short hike. I stopped by the furnace stack, which I always find worth photographing.

My short wandering hike took me to Fuller Lake, one of the two lakes in the park. I took my shoes off and waded into the cold water. It felt good. I stood there, jeans rolled up, a few minutes as I took in the view of the pines overlooking the lake, and felt the sand under my feet.

As I was standing there a man and his son approached. After the usual pleasantries about the weather, water temperature, and what not, he asked where I was staying. The hostel, I told him.

“Oh, there. Well, its probably OK now, but it used to be a dump. All those blacks from Harrisburg used to come here and they’d trash up the hostel and the park and the beaches.”

I was stunned. I hadn’t expected to encounter a racial slur on a beautiful late afternoon. I forget what I changed the topic to, but I changed it, and he and his son wandered off.

Some people will criticize me for not either confronting the man over his slur or attempting to change his mind. But just because you know cockroaches are bad doesn’t mean you want to pick it up and handle it even to get rid of it. Also, I’m not the most persuasive advocate for a cause in person. I’m better on paper, or virtual paper, and I still don’t think it needs to be dealt with any more than I have. You can’t fix stupid.

However, I wonder if my conversation partner knew the history of the park, and of iron forges. Iron built America, but men built and ran iron forges. It was hard, difficult, dangerous work, and in Pennsylvania as often as not black men were working in the forges. At Pine Grove Furnace, one of the supervisors was a black man.

And this is as good a place to bring in the Underground Railroad as any. Although there’s no documentation that Pine Grove was a station, its likely it was. Maryland is twenty-five miles south. Calendonia, the forge owned by abolitionist Thaddeus Stevens and now a PA state park, is a dozen miles south of Pine Grove Furnace. Boiling Springs, a dozen miles north, had a safe house on the Underground Railroad. So there’s a chain of stops through what would have been wooded wilderness 150 year ago. Add in the black communities that formed around the iron forges, and the ‘secret room’ at the Ironmaster’s Mansion, and its a certainty to me.

After getting the sand off my feet, I walked back to the hostel and spent a quiet night.

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Camp Michaux

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Memorial Day morning I visited a little-known part of American history. Camp Michaux, just off Route 233 south of Pine Grove Furnace State Park, was once a Civilian Conservation Corp site, a church camping area, and for thirty months in World War II a center for the interrogation of German and Japanese prisoners of war. Pine Grove, as the camp was called, was top secret, and soldiers stationed there were instructed to say they were from the nearby Carlisle Barracks. Carlisle is the location of the Army War College, and one can imagine there were a lot of communications back and forth among Carlisle, Pine Grove, and Washington regarding the information ‘extracted’ from the prisoners.

I was alone that morning as I walked the crumbling asphalt road into the camp. Most of the buildings are nothing but foundations, and nature is reclaiming the land.

Did the CCC, the church group, or the US Army build this fountain? And what was it used for?
I heard rushing water to my left, so I walked off the asphalt down a short trail to a pond with a crumbing dam and an active spillway. Again, I don’t know who built it, or when, but the water bouncing over stone took some of the solemnity from the morning’s hike. 

I walked back to the car, thinking about the many men and women who served our country in peace, and, sadly, war. Seventy years before an Army truck was noisily pulling into the camp on the road I was walking on. This morning the ruins of the camp heard only the songs of the birds, the rush of the water, and the echo of my footsteps.

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