Month: November 2013

The Major Award – A Christmas Story House and Museum, Cleveland, Ohio, July 2013

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Ever since I began my journey from a 400 pound victim to a slimmer and healthier victor I’ve been asked “What do you do for fun?” The assumption is that hiking and cycling and canoeing and whatever outdoor activities I indulge in are work, and not pleasurable in themselves. For instance, when I’ve gone on vacation camping, or on a bike tour, I’m invariably asked at some point what I DID. This means, “what tourist-type attractions did you see?”
Well, I usually disappoint my questioners. However, during my July trip to Ohio I visited one such attraction and reminded myself of something I’d forgotten about my weight loss, with the help of my friends Matty and Aaron. And some electric sex gleaming in the window.
This year is the 30th anniversary of A Christmas Story, a classic holiday movie. The film, set in the tail end of the Depression and adapted from the short stories of Jean Shepherd, is now as familiar a staple at Christmastime as It’s a Wonderful Life or the various adaptations of A Christmas Carol. While the movie is set in Hammond, Indiana, it was shot in Cleveland, and the little frame house the Parker family lived in still stands on the outskirts of of the city. In 2005 it was purchased and restored to match its appearance in the movie. The owner subsequently purchased two other buildings in the same block, opening them as a museum of film artifacts and as a gift shop. If you want to visit, and you should, you can find information at http://www.achristmasstoryhouse.com/

While I never saturated myself in A Christmas Story, and I missed the endless marathons of back to back showings cable channels indulged in, I’d seen it and enjoyed it. I knew most of the story line and found the restored house didn’t miss a detail. There was Lifebuoy soap in the bathroom and the blocks on the shelf in the boy’s bedroom spelled out “Oh Fudge.” And yes, that’s me holding the Red Ryder carbine action 200 shot model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing which tells time. While holding it I could hear my mother’s voice saying “You’ll shoot your eye out.”

But this visit might never had happened. My original suggestion for this trip, the first time Matty and Aaron met, was that we ride on the Ohio and Erie Canal Towpath. It would have to be a short ride, because Matty was recovering from a near-fatal auto accident nine months before and hadn’t ridden a bike for a couple of years before that. Fortunately, Aaron had a better idea. He suggested the short hike in downtown Cleveland and subsequent trip to the A Christmas Story House, and it turned out to be the perfect day for the three of us.

At times I get caught up in the idea that more is better, and I constantly have to be doing more – riding longer and harder, hiking further and faster. But losing weight and becoming active means celebrating the small as well as the large. When I was 400 pounds I couldn’t hike six miles, but I couldn’t walk a block either. Spending a day walking around with friends, climbing steps, is as much a reward of changing my life as my century in 2007 or any mountain I’ve hiked up. That is the major award, becoming active. And unlike the lamp in the movie, it’s not fragile. 

By the way, if you want to turn a group of middle-aged men into snickering twelve year old boys, let them pose with the leg lamp. 


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Monmouth Battlefield State Park, Freehold, NJ, October 2013

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During my recent visit to the Garden State I visited the site of the Battle of Monmouth with two fellow members of the Caleb’s Crew Hiking Club. Janet is a local historian, and Allan is Allan, so I knew I would have a good time.

Our ‘hike’ was a walk, both at the battle site and at the nearby church. But it was good to be out in the fresh air and amid the colors of fall. And I learned about the Battle of Monmouth, General Washington’s first victory as leader of the newly trained Continental Army. The statue of General Von Steuben reminds me of the like statue at Valley Forge. There at the Pennsylvania park he faces the parade grounds, the area he drilled the troops on two centuries before. At Monmouth he faces the parking lot, which seems a letdown in comparison.

One surprise at Monmouth was a Civil War reenactment. Like many people I’d wonder why a Civil War event is being held in area not known for a Civil War battle, but it turns out Monmouth had been the location of a training and assembly point for troops on the way south. Also, Civil War is the most popular period for reenactment, and not everyone, spectator and reenactor, has the means or time to travel to Vicksburg or Antietam for some commemorative event. These gentlemen chatted with us about reenacting, and the soldier standing is a very distant relation. My ‘people’ came to the US in 1848, like many, many other Irish, and family tradition has it that we were represented at Gettysburg. I could have been talking with my great-great-grandfather as I conversed with the soldiers at Monmouth.

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Bushnell Falls, Shandaken, NY, October 2013

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This is a “hike” of 100 yards or so, but I thought I’d mention it. Bushnell Falls is on Route 42 North from the town of Shandaken. Five miles northbound there is a pulloff to the left. (Scott Brown’s book on New York waterfalls has an error and puts the parking area on the other side of the road.) A walk on a short trail brings you to the falls. The day I visited it was a trickle down the side of Halcott Mountain, but after a rain or in spring it will be a more impressive cascade.

As the weather was dry and the flow minimal, I ventured onto the falls itself. Of course my fear of heights kicked in as I tried to leave and it took me ten minutes to get off of a ledge that it took ten seconds to get onto. Sometimes its really, really tough to be me. But discovering Bushnell Falls, a piece of beauty I’d have driven past when I sedentary, makes up for the occasional problems.

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Catskills Scenic Trail, October 2013

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I try not to dwell on the negative in my outdoor writing. But the day I fell on the Tanbark Trail in the Catskills was one of the worst I’ve had outside. And it was capped by the Catskill Scenic Trail.

After I’d gotten off the Tanbark Trail, I headed back to the cabin. I was already in a bad mood, full of self-loathing. Lunch didn’t change that. But I felt a good bike ride, like the one I’d had the day before on the Walkway Over The Hudson, would change my mood. So I dressed in riding gear, loaded the bike onto the rack, and set off to the only rail trail in the Catskills. 
I should have checked the mileage beforehand. I was over an hour from the trail. But having set my mind to it, I drove and drove. I finally reached the town of Bloomville…. and drove past the trailhead. It wasn’t my fault, for the trailhead wasn’t signed. When I parked, the only other vehicle was an abandoned car. 
I ignored the omens and started off. The trail’s website mentions several crossings of the Delaware River – yes, THAT Delaware River – and I was looking forward to taking photos. But shortly past the trailhead the surface of the trail became a mass of potholes and ruts. I am not a strong rider, but I’ve ridden canal towpaths and gravel trails since 2007, and this was the worst surface I’ve come across. Then I discovered why the trail was so bad. The trail runs through farm land, and farm equipment used the trail. I turned around, and in a foul mood rode back to the car. I drove on to the next trailhead, in the town of Stamford, and after searching for it located the old trail station.
In Stamford the trail was in better condition, or so I thought. I rode a couple of miles towards Bloomsville, but even here there were problems. I felt odd bumps under my wheels. Apparently when they turned the old rail line into a trail they didn’t bother to remove the ties. I was riding over the railroad ties sticking up through the gravel. I turned around and rode back to the station. Heading in the other direction was the final straw for me, as I soon came across a trail ‘repair’ that consisted of dumping a bunch of loose gravel. I packed up the bike and drove back to the cabin. 
Some people might say I came to the trail with a bad attitude. Perhaps. But even if I were in a good mood I’d be annoyed at a trail ruined by farm equipment and neglect. Anyway I finished the day with three miles and a bad mood even the glories of the Catskills in fall couldn’t cure.

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The Unknown Dale – River Trail, Valley Forge National Historic Park, November 2013

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The day after I hiked through a swamp on a geocache adventure, I did a ‘recovery’ hike on the flat River Trail in Valley Forge National Historic Park. The trail runs three miles from Pawling Road in Audubon to the Betzwood Trailhead on the Schuylkill River Trail. I’d not done a hike of that distance since a February walk on the paved path in Valley Forge, and I feeling enthusiastic. I knew the terrain would be friendly, but the distance would challenge me. 
The hike was a group event set up by a local club on MeetUp. I showed up at the appointed time, stood around on the edge as the regulars chatted with each other, and resigned myself to being alone in the crowd. Then an elderly man stepped forward. “Neil?”
I’d not seen Dale in a decade. Last we met I was 400 pounds and struggling to get around. Our connection was, and is, the Royal Game – we are both chessplayers, and both of us have made contributions to the written history of chess. Also, we are both from the same small town, although Dale now lives in another state. It was coincidence, fate, the hand of God, or whatever you want to call it, that brought us together again, and I was happy that it did. 
I’m not sure which of us was the more surprised to learn about the other. Chessplayers have a laser focus on the game to the exclusion of everything else. While Dale was surprised to learn about my journey from potato to potential, I was stunned to discover my friend had decades of hiking experience under his boots. The week before he’d been to The Pinnacle and Pulpit Rock in Berks County, hiking the nine mile loop to the two overlooks. He’d done my favorite hike, the climb to Pole Steeple, several times. At age 82 he’s choosing his hikes a little more carefully, but he’s not slowing down. 
And he didn’t slow down. I’ve never hiked as quickly as I did on the first three miles. I look very red in the face in the photo. But that’s because I was doing three miles an hour and carrying on a conversation with my friend. The rest of the group hiked a half mile further for lunch at the picnic area at Betzwood, but Dale decided to head back. I wanted to take photos, and knowing I’d hold him back took leave of my friend. I promised Dale it wouldn’t be a decade before we saw each other again, since I would be 57 then and might not be capable of keeping up with him. 
I sat on a rock at the turnaround spot and drank, drinking both water and the view. Fall in Pennsylvania is a color riot, and while the leaf color was past its peak, the view was impressive. I took my time on the way back, stopping for photos and enjoying the day. Two hours later I was back to my car, stiff with the usual post-exertion swelling but feeling I could do anything. Perhaps I can? If not, I hope to be able to keep up with Dale for a long, long time. 

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New York State of Mind – Hudson Valley Rail Trail and Walkway Over The Hudson, October 2013

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I was down. My planned trip to Florida to visit my friend Sayre was scrapped for various reasons, and I was tentatively planning a “staycation.”

However, my mood changed when a friend suggested I stay at a cabin they had purchased in the Catskill Mountains. I was surprised to discover the drive was no longer than the five hours I’d take to get to Pine Creek Gorge, for instance, and so I set about making plans. I’ve been to New York City twice as an adult, but aside from staying overnight at a friend’s home in Buffalo I’d never been to New York State. I overplanned as usual and much of what I hoped to do was rewritten on the fly, but I got in the best experience largely as planned – the Walkway Over The Hudson.

The Walkway Over The Hudson is a lineal park, or what we ordinary folks might call a “trail”, utilizing an old railroad trestle spanning the Hudson between Highland and Poughkeepsie. The bridge is one and a quarter miles long and the longest elevated pedestrian span in the world. Bikes are allowed on the bridge, and cyclists can avoid the day use fee the park charges by parking at trailheads on the adjoining trails in Highland or Dutchess County.

I arrived in early afternoon at Tony Williams Park on the end of the Hudson Valley Rail Trail, four miles from the west end of the bridge. The Hudson Valley Rail Trail is a paved path running at a mild grade down to the bridge. On a fall Wednesday afternoon the trail was busy. I changed into riding gear at Tony Williams Park’s bathrooms and headed out.

The colors of fall were around me. I took the tree colors on the trail as a sign of what I’d face in the Catskills. I felt like I was flying down the trail, passing the small road crossings and under a culvert. Before I expected it, I was at the bridge and riding the Walkway Over The Hudson.

The bridge itself is wide, and while it was full of pedestrians and pets and cyclists ‘traffic’ was orderly and there were no near-misses or evasive actions that I could see. The view up and down the Hudson was spectacular, as was the elevated view of the city of Poughkeepsie. For people who want to stop and take in the view there are benches on both sides of the span. And should you tire of the Hudson the bridge is a great place for people-watching. The Walkway when I visited was used by all sorts of folks – commuters on foot and on bikes, people out for a stroll, roadies riding a loop …. and a formerly sedentary man from Pennsylvania rediscovering the outdoors.

I crossed into Dutchess County and began to ride on their extensive trail network. However, time demanded I turn around after a couple of miles. I still had to drive an hour into the Catskills and locate my friend’s cabin, and I was advised to get there before dark lest I have trouble locating it. So I headed back to Highland and my car. My dozen miles on the trails and Walkway was the highlight of my trip, and I long to ride them again. And more importantly, I was no longer down. I was, indeed, idle no more.

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Geocache search at Phoenixville Tunnel, Phoenixville, PA, November 2013

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Saturday morning I met my friend Mat for a geocache hike. My first geocache event was at Marsh Creek State Park in April, and I enjoyed it enough to try it again. And when Mat told me that the hike was short, relatively easy, and involved an abandoned railroad tunnel, my interest was heightened. And even when I was told there might be some mud I said “game on!”

We met at a small park off of High Street in Phoenixville and after walking along the road a couple of hundred feet we ducked under a barricade on the north side. We found ourselves in a field, and I thought “this isn’t so bad.” The day was cool but sunny, and the fall colors were around me. We made good progress and soon enough found ourselves at the bottom of a ravine, the remains of a railroad cut.

Then I stepped in mud. One step. And the next, and the next. We slowed our pace.

The mud was deep in spots. Phoenixville Tunnel was abandoned by Conrail in 1984 after a century of service, and when they removed the rail they left the ties behind. Some in place, and some scattered. For thirty years the cut and tunnel were allowed to be used as a dumping ground and drainage ditch. Like many slate railroad cuts and tunnels, there are problems with runoff and springs.

Mat turned to me. “This is probably more than you bargained for. Its OK if you want to turn back.”

“My boots are muddy already, and I’m having fun. I want to see the tunnel.” And so we pushed on.

The mud became worse. And then before we knew it, there was standing water. Black and green and smelling like decay. I’d worn my old Timberland boots, and so when I went into a pool with water near my knees I didn’t care.

After slogging through the mud and pond and debris, we reached the tunnel. Since Mat is the geocacher of the two of us, I let him explore the tunnel while I waited inside the mouth. Phoenixville Tunnel is a little over 800 feet long, flooded, and in poor repair. The ceiling is partially collapsed under Filmore Street. Mat climbed over the collapse looking for an ammo box while I stood on rotting railroad ties to keep out of the water.

Mat was gone for five minutes, but it felt like forever. I’d call out to make sure he was OK. After the hike I discovered that in August someone had become trapped on the slopes near this tunnel and it took two fire companies to get him to safety. I prefer to write, not be written about.

Mat returned with a long face. The ammo box either wasn’t there, or he’d missed it. The cache was to have been in the wall, but we couldn’t find it. So we turned around and began the hike out. My feet were cold and wet, so getting colder and wetter didn’t matter so much. I fell once when I stepped from a submerged tie, but I caught myself with my hands and avoided going face first into the water. I suppose that would have been “a taste OF the woods.”

The second thing we did on returning to our cars was change our boots, socks, and pants. The first thing was pose for the finish line photo. I met Mat for the first time on this hike, and I think we hit it off. As time and schedules allow, we’ll probably do more hikes and rides together. He’s a little younger than me, lighter than me, and more physically fit, but like me he’s rediscovering the outdoors. What’s more, we get along. And for one and a fifth miles that morning our friendship was baptized by water.

 Once home, I sorted out the damage from the hike. The socks I threw out. The jeans, sweatshirt, and jacket went to the washer. The boots are sitting outside drying out. They are an old pair that doesn’t fit me properly and has the old pre-surgical wear pattern from my knock-kneed days, so I might throw them out as well. But they could be useful next time I hike into a swamp, so if I can get them dried and less foul-smelling I’ll keep them.

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Warwick County Park

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I’ve probably hiked more often in Chester County’s Warwick County Park than anywhere else. Its close to me and has several different trails, so I can always find something to hold my interest. Rather than post accounts of individual hikes, in this post I’ll describe the park and the trails I normally use.

Warwick runs east to west alongside PA State Route 23, and is about ten miles west of Phoenixville. There are four main trailheads I’ve used in the park. Going east to west, the first is on Coventryville Road. Turn left and park. The trail leads you to a marker at the location of Coventry Forge, one of the two iron forges in the park. There are no surviving furnace stacks, only the markers. The trail continues as a walk through a meadow. The trail is mown from the field. Total distance is probably a little over a mile.

Traveling to the next intersection, we reach my favorite trailhead, Mount Pleasant Road. Again turn left at the intersection and park at the trailhead on the right. From the trailhead take the path to the right. You are on the right of way of the old Sowbelly Railroad, a short lived short line that ran from Kimberton to St. Peters. The trail is wide, reasonably smooth, but not flat. It dips and rises through woods along French Creek, and then crosses into a meadow. Along the way it passes the ruins of an old railroad building.

On the other side of the meadow, you reenter woods. At first the trees are pine, but once through the stand you are back among hardwoods. The trail loops to a bench and an overlook of French Creek. The overlook is overgrown in the warm months, but when the leaves are gone you can see the ‘developed’ side of the park across the creek. If you don’t mind getting wet you can hike down and ford the creek at the small falls. If not, turn around for a nearly three mile hike.

The next trailhead is a pull off on Route 23, about a mile from Mount Pleasant Road. Traffic is usually light enough on the highway that getting back on 23 isn’t difficult, so I sometimes stop here. The trail goes down the hill in a lane of trees to intersect with the trail I’ve described above from the Mount Pleasant Trailhead. Turn left to enter the meadow and go to Mount Pleasant; turn right to enter the pine stand and the overlook to French Creek.

The final place I start hikes from is the main parking area. Turn onto Park Road and follow it to the park entrance. This is the ‘developed’ area I’ve mentioned, with a large paved parking area, a visitor’s center, restrooms, picnic tables, and an ADA accessible fishing pier on French Creek. Hikes range in length from the half mile Meadow Trail, which loops around a meadow and leads to a bench facing the overlook on French Creek, to trails of a couple of miles running through the woods. Many of these trails intersect, so you can come up with your own routes and mileages. One of my favorites is the Iron Heritage Trail, which is a one mile trip past interpretive markers discussing the history of Warwick Furnace, the other iron forge in the park. I’m also fond of strolling along French Creek, although sometimes those trails can be swampy.

In addition to the trails I’ve described, the Horseshoe Trail snakes through the park. The Horseshoe Trail is a hiking path running from the top of Mount Misery in Valley Forge to Hersey. Its yellow blazed and passes to the south of French Creek. You can also access it from the Coventryville Road and Mount Pleasant Road trailheads; in each case walk on the road and its on the other side of the bridge.

A high spot of the park, literally, is the “bridge to nowhere.” The park saved an old footbridge in Phoenixville and reused it as an overlook in the park. As the forest spreads it will eventually be surrounded, but for now it gives a fantastic view of the park. Whenever I visit this side of Warwick I like to climb up the hill simply so I can drink in  the view. It reminds me of why I love being outside, and love being active. The world is a beautiful place, and Warwick is a beautiful part of it.

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