We left the Dutch in the morning, pausing for a moment to get a shot of the horses in the field down the road and the stone house behind them. I didn’t get any of it very well. This is here just for the record:
The house doesn't really lean like that. I was balancing the camera on the frame of the car window. It must not have been level.
We went to
Harrisburg and picked up U.S. 322 West, which took us to Clearfield.
First stop
on the way was a little town, a few blocks wide and maybe a mile long, called
Dauphin, like the bad guy in Henry VI, Part I. Only Shakespeare spelled it “Dolphin.”
The reason to leave the highway there is that the Susquehanna broadens into a
shallow lake full of little islands, some of them just stones above the
current.
I think all
the miniatures yesterday at Roadside America infected my brain. I took one look
at the rocks in the river and all I could see was a reproduction in miniature of the
St. Laurence at the Thousand Islands.
But this one
had something different. In the middle is a fairly prominent rock some feet
above the water with a replica of the Statue of Liberty on it. Nobody’s gonna
stop for that, right?
We tried to
jockey our way up a hill to get an overview, but that failed when the road
ended.
We drove
around the little town and almost got back onto the highway. But we turned back
and worked our way down to a small public space by the water. It may be an
access for fisherman. But down a steep and narrow trail we found a rock to
stand on.
I shot some video, which I hope will turn out all right. Today’s photo, though, is Joanna at the Thousand Islands of Pennsylvania.
We saw a
large black butterfly, waved to some kayakers, watched a train across the
river.
Next stop
was Little Buffalo State Park. We climbed steps to the top of an earth dam. Not
as many steps as climbing to see the Big Buddha on Lantau Island, but enough. A
group went up a few minutes before we did, and they carried a bicycle. I was
appropriately humbled.
On top there
is a gravel road that goes around the reservoir, and there were some other
bikes up there, but most of them probably came up the gentle rise from the
parking lot by the boat slip.
Anyhow, it
wasn’t too bad, so we climbed a few more stairs to a trail that followed the
hillside. These steps, a plaque told us, were built in the 1990s as an Eagle
Scout project by Troop 92. Scouts built some steps outside the Crockett Tavern
Museum in Morristown, Tenn., if I remember right.
There may be
more steps built by Scouts. I will try to note any steps that I see in the
future that were built by Scouts — Boy, Cub, Girl, U.S. Cavalry, Talent, or any
other kinds.
On the road
above the reservoir we came to a dead tree with the bark peeled off the trunk
from the root to about 5 or 6 feet above the ground. It was clawed off, not
peeled or carved with a tool. I immediately thought of a black bear. Maybe it
was a lion. Could be just some kid with hellacious fingernails, but I doubt it.
The park
contains a covered bridge that used to span the Little Buffalo Creek not far
away. The original was moved to the site and at some time a few years ago collapsed under a
load of ice and snow. It appears that the remade bridge is not a replica, but
uses many of the original materials.
As usual,
there were numerous mud wasps’ nests in the rafters.
A short walk
from the bridge is Shoaff’s Mill. It is powered by an overshot water wheel and
was commercially active until the 1940s. The family sold the mill to the state,
but still lives in the old house across the road.
Joanna has
developed a taste for waffles made at roadside establishments
— the Waffle
House, the Columbus Diner, and JP’s Pancake House.
We got off the exit for the Pancake House and didn’t know which way to go, so we guessed wrong, but what was OK.
We wound up on a road with a sign warning about buggy traffic. OK, pancakes can wait.
We got off the exit for the Pancake House and didn’t know which way to go, so we guessed wrong, but what was OK.
We wound up on a road with a sign warning about buggy traffic. OK, pancakes can wait.
We wandered
around some back roads but the only buggy we saw was parked in a yard near a
pickup truck. Not very traditional. We were looking for houses that weren’t
connected to the electricity lines. After a few turns, we came to the end of
Trower Road and agreed that it was time to backtrack.
We started
back and then took another detour to see the Mennonite Church. This brought us
past the intersection with Trower Road, where we turned around before.
We found the
church, but everybody had left by this time — maybe a little after one. So we
went past that and down a narrow road between cornfields. We have all read
Stephen King’s “Children of the Corn,” so you know I was on the lookout for
kids in black.
Two buggies
passed us going the opposite way. It seemed to be one family, Mom and Pop with
two daughters in the covered buggy, and the adolescent son by himself in the
buggy with the top down. Wow, this is what we were looking for, to get stuck
doing 10 miles an hour behind a couple of horses.
I turned
around at the next intersection and without pushing hard caught up to the
buggies in a little while. It was interesting to follow them. When horses
trot
— about 15 mph or so, I’d guess
—
they place their feet in a line, so the
hoofs are clopping in and out. They may do that all the time, but I have never
seen it from this perspective before. It’s very interesting to watch.
The wheels
looked like they were wobbling on the carriages, but that may have been normal
tolerance for parts made by hand.
We followed
them home, as it turns out. They pulled into the driveway of the house on the
corner of Trower Road.
We found JP’s
by passing under U.S. 322. It was about 3 in the afternoon and time for some
lunch.
Once we got
to Clearfield, around 5, I missed the sign for the turn and we wound up about 6
miles out of town. We caught Pa. 879, the Clearfield-Shawville Highway, on the
way back. Of course, I took it in the wrong direction and had to make a U-turn
at the top of the mountain.
I also took
a wrong turns a couple of times earlier in the day coming out of Little Buffalo
State Park. But we did get to see a great Civil War memorial in New Bloomfield.
I knew it was the wrong direction because this was the first Union soldier on
an obelisk that I had seen all day.
These wrong
turns were all very reassuring. After all, if you don’t get lost, you’re not
traveling hard enough.
Denny’s Beer
Barrel Pub has a sign outside that welcomes bikers but permits “absolutely no
M.C. inside.” Could it be that the Pagans and Hells Angels had a row there at
one time?
Some people
wearing Harley shirts came in while we were there. A few bikes were parked
outside when we arrived. Most of the bikers I’ve seen out here this weekend are
gray. I take this as an indicator of excellent road safety.
Food safety
is another matter. You have to order 72 hours in advance, but you can buy a
16-pound hamburger at Denny’s.
They have a
series of challenges. They sell a 2-pound burger, and if you can eat it in an
hour, along with all the go-withs, you get a T-shirt, a certificate, half price
off, and your name on the wall. A guy named Regec finished one in 19 minutes. I
wonder if he claws trees, or maybe wrestles bears (or lions) for exercise.
Anyhow, as I
was saying, this violates the first rule of food safety, which is don’t eat
anything bigger than your head.
There are
larger challenges. A couple of the challenges require two people to polish off
some astonishing quantity of ground beef in two or three hours.
With the
really big ones, 50 and 96 ounces, the establishment doesn’t accept challenges
at all. It’s probably too dangerous. They’re for parties.
I was
thinking about it: 50 pounds of beef split among two dozen people leaves two
pounds each. I couldn’t eat that much anything in a single sitting.
I had a 1/3
pound elk burger and that with the fries was all I could handle.
I had Otto’s
red ale, of course. It is made in State College, Pa. We saw a sign for the
brewery and pub when we passed through town earlier in the day.
It was the
first red ale that I ever tasted. It still holds up, but green Flash Brewing Co.’s
Hop Head Red IPA is probably better.
Elk Creek
IPA, made in Milheim, Pa., seemed appropriate with an elk burger. It was OK.
On reflection, I think my taste buds were off because everything, even the
burger, seemed weaker than I expected.
Much of the
food at Denny’s is fried. We ordered a side of green vegetables, but the
closest we could get was deep-fried green beans. Joanna said they reminded her
of hush puppies.
I had
remarked to Joanna on Saturday that Haag’s Hotel in Shartlesville reminded me
in some ways of the Three Bear Inn in Marathon, N.Y. It had a small barroom
full of locals, and there was a similar shape and appearance to the town. It was in an old building by the highway and across the side street we could see the old outbuildings. A couple of them were garages that clearly used to be carriage houses.
Denny’s, too, has
something in common with Marathon and the Three Bear Inn. They have a bench
carved with their own three black bears. On the wall behind it is part of the Honor Roll
listing people who have finished oversize hamburgers in a specified time.
I tried to
retrace my route from Denny’s to the hotel, and so got onto the
Clearfield-Shawville Highway in the wrong direction again. So I did another
possibly felonious U-turn and got us back to the Comfort Inn.
So far, so
good. Can’t ask for better than that, right?
Sept.
3
Hi!
Are you still on the road, or back at
work?
Last e-mail dated Sept. 1.
Hope all is OK.
P.S — Is
Joanna wearing your hat again, or did you get her one?
Larry
Sept. 4
I'm at the office now.
Joanna has a
white straw hat, but the one in the photo is mine.
Sept. 2
Labor
Day and cloudy. The trek was abbreviated today when we got chased out of bear country
by approaching thunder.
The
way back from Clearfield is practically a bee line. It’s about two-thirds of
the way across Pennsylvania on I-80 from Clearfield to the Delaware Water Gap.
Then about 60 more miles gets us to the neighborhood of home.
One
of the things I had promised Joanna was a serving of some of the best chicken
pot pie I have ever tasted. You can get it at the Village Farmer and Bakery on
Broad Street in Delaware Water Gap, Pa.
The
place has a concrete floor and a few tables in one corner, and a larger picnic
area outside. The rest of the place is filled with long tables covered with
pies—fruit pies, custard pies, pudding pies. The savory meat pies are
refrigerated. They probably sell other stuff inside, but I didn’t notice.
They
were selling hot dogs and farm produce outside on Labor Day.
So
after we had chicken pot pie, we crossed the river through the Water Gap itself
and parked near the trout stream by the trail. Very picturesque, of course, a
falling stream, fallen trees, here and there some kids romping in the water. We
climb up the hillside probably less than a quarter of a mile when the first peal
comes rolling. Damn, it’s close and it sounds big, so we head back downhill.
The
rain hit us a few times on the way back. Nothing too heavy, but enough that I
was glad that I wasn’t standing in it.
We
made it back home around five. Another great trip.
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