CLANMOTHER'S
POCONO BIKER NEWS
Hi Again !
Pennsylvania’s
Grand Canyon
Have you ever heard of the Grand
Canyon? OK: have you ever heard of the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania? Yup,
it’s for real. Growing up in Pennsylvania, I’d heard about it from
childhood on. It was always someplace where I wanted to go. I had a
vacation week coming and too much to do at home to take a long trip so I
thought a couple of days in North Central PA would fit in just right.
The canyon’s proper name is “Pine Creek Gorge”. In some ways
it has alot in common with its bigger sibling out West. Both were formed
at the end of the Ice Age when glaciers suddenly melted and huge lakes
needed to find a way to drain. But where the western canyon cut through a
plateau, this one cut through a series of mountain ridges. The irregular
geology and the temperate rainforest ecology combine to make the Grand
Canyon of Pennsylvania a very different place, and I wanted so much to see it.
On Tuesday morning I packed my camping gear and headed out. The day
was perfect, a few friendly clouds with a high in the low 70s. I picked up
US Route 6 at Clark’s Summit neat Scranton. Rt. 6, like Rt. 66, is one
of those old main highways that crisscrossed America before the days of
interstates; it is called the “Grand Army of the Republic Highway”.
Once past Factoryville
Route Six becomes a bucolic two lane that winds through the mountains and farmland
valleys. Between the forested mountains are a small patchwork of fields,
hedgerows and wooded creek beds. Farmhouses, barns and silos dot the
mountainous landscape. The fact that the leaves were turning to their fall
hues of red and gold made it all the more pleasant. Towns like Sylvania,
Laceyville and Skinners Eddy are made up of family restaurants, hardware
stores, car lots, churches, etc. I only noticed one K-Mart on the whole
trip. In a way it was a trip back in time. Towns with names like
Tunkhannock, Mehoopany, Wyalusing, and Towanda reminded me that it was my
red ancestors who long ago lived and died here. This is where Sullivan’s
Rangers fought Joseph Brant’s Loyalist and Iroquois during the
Revolutionary War.
From Laceyville to Towanda
Route Six
twists enough to please even a sport rider. The vistas from the saddle
were gorgeous. Every time I came over a rise I was treated to another
beautiful landscape or a Norman Rockwell village scene.
After passing through the little
college town of Mansfield, I started to see signs here and there telling
of places to stay or to dine when visiting the “Grand Canyon”.
There’s a “Grand Canyon Motor Inn” a “Grand Canyon Lodge” etc.
Wellsboro is considered the home of the “Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania”
being only ten miles from the east rim and the seat of Tioga County. If you fold a PA road map in half East to West the center crease
will pass between the canyon and Wellsboro. You’ll find them about an
inch or two from the northern state line depending on the map’s scale.
I had lunch at the Wellsboro Diner.
The food was just edible but the waitress and cashier were friendly and
helpful, giving me directions to the canyon’s east rim.
The east rim at Leonard Harrison
State Park was easy to find; just follow Route 660 to its end and then keep
going. This is the tourist area where busses pull up and souvenirs are
sold. They even have a room with a video loop running that tells about the
canyon’s history and ecology. My visit coincided with a bus tour of
seniors from the Lancaster/Lebanon area. While resting near a statue
honoring the C.C.C. workers who built the park facilities during the great
depression we discussed the virtues of the “make work” welfare of
those days compared to the “entitlement” welfare of today. The
relaxing surroundings seemed to encourage friendly discourse.
With a network of wooden railings,
walking close to the precipice seemed quite safe. The view from the rim at Harrison Park was
breathtaking. My gaze followed the flight
of a golden eagle that played with the rising air currents over the west
rim. The vertical drop at this point is about 825 feet. I was told that
the drop from Colton Point on the western rim, which was visible from the
Harrison park overlook, was over 1000 feet. I knew that I had to go there.
The sky was growing cloudy and I
worried about camping for the night. Packing a wet tent on a bike isn’t
easy or fun especially if its dawn and you’re cold and hungry. I checked
the rates at a few campgrounds and motels near the east rim. Camping was
dirt cheap with amenities to match. But motel rooms in old fleabags were
$49/single occupancy.
Before leaving the east rim I
checked out the observation tower. This tower once stood at the edge of
the Gettysburg Battlefield State Park and was removed as an eyesore. Here
in the woods it looks as much in place as does a forest service tower. Unfortunately
it was closing time when I arrived. Though the operator offered to stay on
awhile I knew it would take this old woman too long to climb the many
flights of stairs to the top, and I didn’t want to impose.
Heading back to Route Six and seeing
the sky darken, I checked out a few more motels, opting to spend the night
at The Colton Point Motel for $35. It was clean well stocked with towels,
glasses etc. and best of all only a mile from Colton Point State Park on
the west rim of the canyon.
I ditched my camping gear and
luggage at the motel and took a ride into the nearest town with a
restaurant to get supper. Galeton is built around a lake with mountains
towering in all directions. It was then I learned that although I was only
20 miles from Wellsboro I was in different mountains. They looked the same
to me! You see when I left home I was in the Pocono Mountains of
northeastern PA. As I proceeded west somewhere around the Lackawanna River
the mountains had their name changed to the Endless Mountains. Apparently
the Endless Mountains don’t really live up to their name because
somewhere between Colton Point and Galeton they become the Allegheny
Mountains. Truth be told, they’re all the Appalachian Mountains.
As I sat down at my table at the Ox
Yoke Restaurant and reached for my cell phone to call home, the waitress said
“that won’t work here; Nobody’s mobile phones work here in Potter
County”. The Ox Yoke’s décor was hunting lodge and the menu was Italian.
The lasagna was great.
I phoned home from a pay phone at
the local mini-market, then rode around the very dark roads till I felt dampness
in the air; but I made it back to the motel before the rain began. Rain wasn’t
even in the forecast.
The motel has a cozy dining room
where they serve breakfast, including some of the best paprika home fries I’ve
ever had; luckily, they opened early.
After breakfast I loaded up and started through the early morning fog up the road to Colton Point, climbing and climbing up and up through the clouds till I could look down onto sunlit cloud tops. The road continued over the top of the mountain and descended toward the canyon’s western rim. I passed a small cleared shoulder area, big enough for three or four cars, with a sign saying Barbour’s Rock primitive trail. Making a mental note I followed the paved road down to the Colton Point overlook. This was surreal! I was still above the clouds but they were beginning to break up, allowing me to see most of the canyon floor below. The sun was still below the eastern rim so the sky was multicolored blues reds and purples. I could look across and slightly down at Harrison Park where I had been the previous afternoon. It seemed so distant and tiny.
I enjoyed seeing the sun rise over
Harrison Park then rode back to the Barbour’s Rock trail. After parking and
locking my Harley, I began to walk. It was a chilly morning and I was high up on
a mountain, much higher than at the Colton Point overlook and I was hiking a
primitive trail uphill climbing over numerous deadfalls, listening to wild
turkeys flirting and scaring off chipmunks and whitetail deer, while red
squirrels scurried about gathering nuts and acorns for winter storage. I even
saw a dead old oak tree fall about forty yards before my very eyes. It made me
think about that old existential question.
By the time I arrived near the rock
I was sweating and carrying, rather than wearing my jacket, but it was worth it.
The place is totally awesome; the view is stupendous; and the majesty and
serenity of it is truly spiritual that I had to dig into my jacket for a cheroot to
make smoke. Manitowuk (angels) love tobacco smoke; and I knew there must be
plenty of manitowuk around there. This is the kind of place you come to pray or to
dream or to seek a vision. There are few places on earth as beautiful and serene
as Barbour’s Rock. I hope that anyone who reads this and goes there respects
it and leaves it as beautiful or more beautiful as when he arrived. I packed out
two beverage containers that had been left by visiting barbarians.
From Barbour’s Rock one can see
virtually the entire length of the canyon in both directions, as well as the
tops of several mountain ranges to the north and south. Words cannot do it
justice.
On the way home I stopped at a couple of Harley dealerships: Lance's in Mansfield, and Preferred in Williamsport. I discovered a really good place to get great southern style barbecue in Williamsport, the name of which I have unfortunately forgotten.
My return trip, with its good weather and good riding, was just so much icing on the cake. For me the visit to the “Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania” was such a refreshing and spiritual experience that I know I will go back. Since that trip, I spoke with several other riders, mostly women, who have expressed an interest in making a group ride there in spring when the wild flowers are blossoming. I can barely wait!
Clanmother
Sorry, my scanner is down; so no pictures for now. Please check back at a later date.