THE LAND THAT TIME FORGOT
Christy and I are spending this week in Pennsylvania for her family’s reunion. It is being held near the Wild and Scenic Clarion River. We couldn’t go there without paddling it, so we brought our canoe with us. However, we ended up with a few free days before the reunion. We decided to take advantage of the free time and an unusually wet spring with some extra paddling.
Christy’s family lives near Clearfield Creek, which has always intrigued me. I’d done some short dayhikes along the creek previously, and the area is beautiful. The creek passes through a virtually undeveloped woodland that makes for a great escape. Paddling the creek always seemed appealing, but the water is rarely high enough except in the winter. A trip in the summer would normally mean carrying the boat more than paddling it.
This year was different though. May and June had been unusually wet, and the water was still up. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. We decided to run the creek, although we knew very little about it. We went with only a poor map and no guidebook. What would we get ourselves into? Would there be any major rapids? We would find out the old fashioned way, one river bend at a time.
The creek has its headwaters among the mountains west of Altoona. From there it cuts its way through a plateau in the heart of Pennsylvania coal country before joining the West Branch of the Susquehana near Clearfield. We decided to take out on the Susquehana at the Shawville dam a few miles downstream from the confluence. However, we needed a starting point. There are two bridges a few miles upstream from Christy’s home. However, I thought that would be a short trip, so we decided to go farther. We decided to put-in farther upstream near the community of Faunce. We reasoned that if the trip took longer than expected, we could always take out near the house and walk home. Christy’s sister agreed to pick us up at Shawville that evening.
We got a late start and drove up through the Pennsylvania countryside to the put-in. We found very little outside of town save some farms and large stretches of woods. We found the back road that took us down to a bridge over the creek. It quickly became apparent that we were off the beaten path. There was no real parking, only a wide place in the road. There seemed to be a faint path through the grass down to the water, but it could’ve been my imagination. We unloaded everything and carried it down to the river. The stream looked shallow. I could only hope that I hadn’t misjudged the conditions. It would be a long day indeed if it was too shallow to float. According to the map it was at least 5 or 6 miles to the next bridge, with no indications of civilization in between.
We put in around 11AM full of the spirit of adventure. The initial shallows at the bridge quickly gave way to deeper water as we rounded the first bend. It was only a few minutes before we had left the bridge and entered what appeared to be a vast wilderness. We drifted through an endless series of S curves, squeezed between thickly wooded mountain walls. The creek was about 50’ wide, which was narrow enough to keep it interesting. The paddling was easy, with only the occasional ripple to distract our attention from the incredible scenery. Along this stretch was spotted two pair of deer. We stopped at a large flat rock to enjoy a lazy lunch and the abundant sunshine. It was a pleasure just to sit and watch the water roll by.
During lunch I had a wildlife encounter of a different sort. I rock hopped to the bank and climbed through the weeds to check out an old railroad grade that follows the stream. I was hoping that it could still serve as a trail, but found it to be largely overgrown. I started to return, when I looked down and noticed the ground was covered with ants. A stinging bite alerted me to the fact that my right foot was also covered. I slapped and hopped down the bank and somehow reached the creek without breaking my neck. I jumped in, but still found a couple of ants crawling on my shirt when I got out. I guess I was probably only seconds away from being totally swarmed. I didn’t think they had fire ants in Pennsylvania, but I’m guessing that’s what this was. They were medium sized, with black bodies and red heads. (or was it red bodies and black heads?) If they weren’t fire ants, they were something similar with bites like fire.
I eventually recovered from my attack, though writing about it now has me itching all over. After an hour of paddling and an hour of lounging, it was time to get serious about going downstream. We really had no idea how far our trip was or how long it would take. The current was strong, and I guessed that we were making 5mph without really trying. However, it took nearly 2 hours to cover the first stretch to the Dimeling bridge. I thought this was maybe 6 miles, so either it was farther than I thought or we were moving slower.
As we approached the bridge the water from Little Clearfield Creek entered the main stream. I hoped that the extra water would end our concerns about the water level. Just before the bridge, we spotted a large wave of whitewater. As we approached a ledge, we braced ourselves for our first real rapid. The channel looked straight-forward and obvious, so we threw caution to the wind. We plunged over the ledge between two boulders on a thrilling tongue of water. This was cause for celebration as we passed under the bridge and into the next section of the creek.
Downstream from Dimeling was less pristine but the scenery was still nice. We passed a logged area near the bridge before reaching farmland. We passed a farmhouse and barn before approaching an ancient railroad trestle. Many years ago, a branch of the Pennsylvania Railroad followed the creek from Clearfield to Madera. It’s function had been to serve the numerous coal mines along the way. There’s very little mining activity now, and most of the railroad had been abandoned long ago. The trestle still stands though, and it still gets some use, after a fashion. As we approached, we noticed that several locals (dreaded Yankee Rednecks) were hanging out on the bridge. There was at least one whole family there, including parents, teenagers, and a couple of young children. Most of them were smoking, and dad was drinking beer. They seemed to be taking turns daring each other to jump. We had passed on downstream, when a huge splash indicated that someone had finally taken the dare. This was immediately followed by a horrifying shriek and various curses about the cold.
Around the next bend we came across a beer can that dad had pitched into the river. We retrieved it, as we’d been amazed at how litter-free the river was. I wouldn’t say the river is clean – runoff from the coal mines has polluted the river and killed all of the fish. There’s little to be done about that now, but we were determined to keep the surroundings as pristine as possible.
We continued downstream to the highway 153 bridge. Beyond, we passed into a heavily wooded gorge that was nearly as wild as the first stretch below Faunce. Here, the only signs of civilization were an existing railroad, which serves a small coal mine on the mountain high above us. Not far below the highway bridge, we passed train wreck rock. Here we found a huge riverside boulder. On the steep bank above were two freight cars that had derailed and slid halfway down to the creek. Apparently the railroad had decided that they weren’t worth the trouble of trying to retrieve them.
We continued through the gorge and passed under another impressive railroad trestle. Beyond that were more deep woods, despite being on the outskirts of Clearfield. We passed under another abandoned railroad bridge and highway 322. We were less than a mile from Christy’s house, but it was only 3:30. We had made great time from Dimeling, so we continued on. I was really looking forward to the final stretch before Shawville.
We paddled through a decent rapid before entering the West Branch of the Susquehana. There was another nice rapid after the confluence, and we entered another beautiful wooded gorge completely devoid of development. We saw two more deer along the way. We continued downstream for another 2 hours, with the fantastic scenery and total silence only interrupted by the sound of traffic as we passed under another railroad trestle and Interstate 80. Beyond was more nice paddling, but we were getting tired and were looking forward to the takeout. As we approached Shawville, the wind picked up and the current slackened as we neared the backwater from the dam. The last mile or two was a chore, but finally the smokestacks from the power plant loomed into view. I never thought I’d be glad to see smokestacks, but I guess there’s a first for everything. Just before the takeout, we spotted an otter as it jumped off the bank into the river. Then we reached the takeout, which was a muddy mess. It was 6pm. We had paddled for six hours with a strong current. How far had we gone?
Christy’s sister picked us up, and we immediately began to plan a trip for the next day. We were tired and sore, but thrilled with our trip on Clearfield Creek. We decided to make a logical continuation of our trip on the Susquehana, paddling from Shawville down to the Deer Creek bridge. This appeared to be a shorter route than the previous day. We didn’t want to be too ambitious, as we planned to bring our 5-year old nephew for his first canoe trip.
We got a late start again that morning. Before putting-in, we stopped at a canoe shop owned by some of Christy’s relatives. They proved to be a good source of information. I found a guidebook there and was surprised to find information on Clearfield Creek. I was shocked to discover that the creek runs 27 miles from Madera to the confluence with the river. Madera to Faunce was no more than 10 miles. That meant that we had gone well over 20 miles the previous day, when you include the section from the confluence to Shawville.
We eventually found the put-in about a mile below the dam. It was a cloudy day, but the weather channel had promised only a 30% chance of scattered drizzle. We hoped that would hold up, as we had a 5-year old with us.
We went about 15 minutes before the rain began. It continued all day, which doesn’t quite fit my definition of scattered. It also rained fairly hard – far more than a drizzle. Despite this, our nephew seemed to enjoy it the most of all of us. The rain didn’t faze him. Every time we approached the slightest ripple, we took the canoe right through the biggest waves to give him a thrill. This nearly cost us dearly on a couple of occasions, as we braved the rocks and ignored the safest route. The rapids were all insignificant though, and we made it through without incident. The scenery was great, as the only intrusion upon the wilderness was a railroad on the left bank. Once again we wound our way through a heavily wooded gorge. The river was probably 100 feet wide though, and I preferred the adventure of Clearfield Creek. Christy really enjoyed this run though, and our nephew had a great time on his first canoe trip. We reached the bridge at Deer Creek after 3 ½ hours of paddling, and Christy’s father arrived shortly thereafter to pick us up. We’d had two nice trips, and are looking forward to returning to sample some of the other streams in the area.
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