Hike #949; Hampton to Warren Glen

Hike #949; Hampton to Warren Glen

7/3/16 Hampton to Warren Glen with James Quinn, Erika Lorin Daniels, Gregg Hudis, Doug DeGroff, Stephen Argentina, Kellie Kegan, Dan Asnis, Natalia Gokhman, Jim “Uncle Soup” Campbell, Lindsay Haber, Justin Gurbisz, Ron Lozowski, Shayna Michaels, John Spiridon, Gregg Hudis, Serious Sean Dougherty, ?, ?, ?, ?, and ? (apologies for names I forgot, it’s been a while and I’m behind on journals).

Our next hike would be another point to point, this time a special one at the request of my grandfather, Eldon Allen.
I used to attend church my grandfather every Sunday at Musconetcong Valley Presbyterian Church outside of Hampton, a very historic location, and Fourth of July Weekend I they’d have a smaller congregation. I had been wanting to do a Musconetcong River themed hike series for a long time, and this was a great opportunity to start it off and show the group the trail we had put in the year before. I would also then be able to share something of my past with the group.

The group at the church

I planned for the group to meet in Warren Glen, which is the end point, and then shuttle to the church where we would attend the service and social time, then head out on the hike. I would give an historic dissertation on the town of Hampton and area history, my grandfather would say a few words, then we’d head to Asbury where Wilson Bullivant would give us the tour of the historic Grist Mill and later Graphite Mill, and Beth Anne Styler Barry would talk a bit about the Musconetcong Watershed Association. Further on, Doug knew of a hidden cemetery where his descendants were buried. So, we had a lot of people on board to help make this something very special.

Musconetcong Valley Church

Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned in a lot of ways for this hike. Every step of the way we were faced with problems, but we still managed to have a pretty fun time overall.
In the week leading up to this event, I was given a schedule at work that showed that I was to work the late shift on the Sunday. I’d had an agreement with work that I work all Saturdays, and have Sundays off. I’d always had one of the weekend days off for the hikes, or at least the Monday when a lot of people would be off, and I simply assumed that that would work on this weekend as well, but instead I was faced with lots of screaming and insults because everyone had to work but me.
I agreed that I would come in that morning at 5 am and work till 9, then make it in time to meet the group for the church service. If I didn’t get done too late, I would come in again at the end of the night. I made no promises there, but things wouldn’t go as planned and I was still faced with more anger.

My grandmother's grave

In planning the tour and events, Chuck from the Watershed had been out for a surgery and wouldn’t be able to give us the tour, but fortunately Will Bullivant, who is just an amazing wealth of knowledge, and had already hosted our group in Millbrook Village on a couple of occasions, stepped up and was able to give us the grand tour.
I arrived all tired from work at the church, frustrated and annoyed, but ready to go. My grandfather was happy to see everyone there, and so things were looking better already. More of the group kept showing up, and we were seated through the service.
Things change so much it’s amazing. There was a lady named Robin that had always been the organist while I was there, and I found that her last Sunday in the congregation was to be the very next Sunday, and this was the first Sunday for a new guy who would be taking over. There were a lot of familiar faces at the church, one of them Mr. Bob Gibson, former Mayor of Hampton and an all around nice guy. I chatted with him a bit after the service before getting the group together for the historic explanations.
The church we were visiting began with a congregation in Washington. The congregation split, and half stayed by Washington, the other half came to what is now Hampton area, in the Valley. At the time, churches were community centers, and towns always started up around industry or the church. It was anticipated that all new building would be around the church at it’s time of completion in 1837.

Hampton Station and Junction historic scene

However, no one anticipated the arrival of the Central Railroad of NJ in the early 1850s, then the creation of the junction with the Warren Railroad in 1856. With the new junction, the town began to form around it and the commerce it meant.
The town became known simply as “Junction” for many years. Soon, such a generic name just didn’t work because of course there were junctions everywhere, so because the nearest town was called New Hampton, it took on the name Hampton Junction.
The Presbyterian Church constructed a new church in the late 1800s in town to be nearer to where everyone lived, and they had cold weather services there, and warm weather services out in the Valley. The Presbyterian Congregation has carried over that tradition for over a century, and it continues to this day.
In 1955, the junction was eliminated, the tracks pulled up on the former Delaware, Lackawanna, and Western line (which was originally the Warren Railroad), and the name “junction” was dropped, and the town became known as simply “Hampton”. It’s confusing today because the town of New Hampton is actually colonial, while the town of Hampton is nearly a century newer.

Valley Road Bridge

After finishing off with the history, my grandfather told some stories about when I was younger. After we had a few laughs, I walked everyone out behind the church into the cemetery for a walk around before we continued further. I pointed out the grave of my grandmother, who used to drive us hikers to just about anywhere we needed to be dropped off when she was alive. I also pointed out the old outhouse behind the church. They now have a portajohn there, but I actually grew up using this outhouse behind the church. I figure I am probably one of the last people that ever grew up using a functional outhouse in the area. It really was the only one around like it, a holdover from past generations.
We headed further onto the road, out to the bridge over the Musconetcong and the parking area for the Wildlife Management Area.

Musconetcong Trail

While I was walking, a car pulled up to me and a familiar voice called out. “WHAT ARE YOU UP TO, A HIKE?”. It was Keith Monahan, my old co worker from Hunterdon County Parks Department, out for a Sunday drive with his kids. He saw all of the people ahead of me and figured it must have been me.
I chatted with him for a little bit before I got on my way. Everyone would be waiting by the time I got to the bridge.
Gregg had made his way out to the trail we installed before the hike, and did some hacking back, but it was just too much for anyone to get through prior to the hike. It really needs some major work. We started trying to fight through it.

In the Muscy

For a little bit of time it was okay to follow, but when it got to the open section parallel with the farm, it was in deplorable shape. We couldn’t easily walk through any of it, so I opted to just go and walk down stream in the river. Lindsey and her friends soon joined, and then Erika, and James and Stephen. It was certainly better than the messed up trail.
I continued through the water until we got to a spot with a tree line, and I figured I could get through, but even that was bad. Where the trail went through openings in an old fence, it looked obscure where the correct way to go was. I couldn’t believe this trail that we’d had so clear could grow in so badly in just about a year.

I continued in and out of the water for a bit, and it got even worse when we reached the meadow area in the shade. Stilt grasses were everywhere, and I couldn’t tell which way the trail was supposed to go. I blazed every tree I thought necessary to delineate the path, but I obviously needed more. I was able to stay on it for the most part, but many were way behind. We finally got to a spot where Musconetcong Watershed was getting in to and keeping mowed. I recommended they get a small DR Mower so they can get through the entire trail. They certainly need something for this, because it’s probably more than volunteers can handle.
I took a swim while I waited for everyone to catch up.

Will Bullivant gives a history talk

There is supposed to be a loop trail in the area, with orange blazes, but that isn’t really marked save for some red discs occasionally. I never got around to redeveloping the closing of the loop, but now it looked like they had mowed some kind of a circuit route.
We continued closer to the river, and soon arrived behind the River Resource Center in Asbury. Will Bullivant was there to greet us, and once we had everyone together, he started the history talk on Asbury. It was really great, as he started with the earliest days of the town and how the mill had started it’s life as a grist mill, and then went into the emergence of the charcoal industry on the Musconetcong.

Under the porch!

Beth showed up after Mr. Bullivant had done part of his talk. We then looked at the native plants garden, and someone spotted that there was a Dove nesting in the rafters under the porch of the River Resource Center.
We went up and sat in the board room briefly, and Beth told everyone about the mission of the Watershed Association, and what they had done so far. The River Resource Center was a big project years ago, and they had only recently acquired the graphite mill. They had matching grants, part of which was the Warren County Municipal and Charitable Conservancy Trust, to restore the mill and to secure the foundation along the raceway.

The old mill

After checking out the River Resource Center and talking to Beth, we headed over to the old mill where Mr. Bullivant gave us the history tour. The mill still has a lot of it’s historic components inside, gears and such right down to where the mill race flows into the structure below.
Everything inside has a film of graphite on it, which has been much cleaned up, but it’s amazingly still there to some degree. The watershed association has been doing an outstanding job of rehabilitating the site, and it’s going to be a great compliment to what they’re already doing across the street in the other building.

Touring the mill

I love the history and I could continue doing this all day, but unfortunately people were getting a bit antsy and wanted to keep moving along. Some people don’t read the descriptions well enough to know when we are doing museum tours and such along the way, so for history buffs it’s great, but for people who get restless not so much. I for one could have listened to more history all day.

In the old mill

When we started to get moving again, a few decided to cut out, but the rest of us continued walking along the Musconetcong on the road into Hunteron County further. We turned away and went left onto Ludlow Station Road, which took us up hill a bit more through some scenic farmlands.
The road walk was significant to part of the history talk Mister Bullivant had given us. He mentioned that when the Central Railroad of New Jersey came in, that people would walk from town in order to catch the trail to the city, and that nearby station was Ludlow Station.

Asbury Mill

This was the same Central Railroad of New Jersey I had told everyone about earlier, that caused the town to spurt up around it rather than around the Musconetcong Valley Presbyterian Church.
We headed up the road to where the station used to stand, now just a grade crossing that has not been used for several years.
The line was only abandoned around 1986. Interstate 78 severed the line when it went in because the railroad would have had to cross it at grade. I remember clipping the newpaper article out when it went out of service.

View near Ludlow Station

We turned right on the old rail line, which still had tracks in place. To the east, toward Hampton, the line was relatively clear with visible tracks, but further to the east, it was completely overgrown to the point that the rails were no longer visible. There was an ATV path beside them, which occupied where the second track would have been earlier on.
We walked on along the old railroad line west to Asbury-West Portal Road where we crossed on a bridge. It’s hard to believe such a rural stop seemingly in the middle of nowhere ever once supported a station.

Historic view of Ludlow Station

I remember when I was little walking this section of the line with my grandfather a couple of weeks before Christmas. My grandmother used to make wreaths to sell at my Aunt’s house for the holidays, and I saw a perfectly green evergreen laying along the tracks.

Former CNJ line

I asked my grandfather to drag the tree back so my grandmother could use it, and he said he wasn’t going to try to do that, but he told me that if I could get the tree back to his truck, we would bring it back for her to use.
I didn’t get it at the time that there were plenty of greens everywhere she could use, and my aunt sold Christmas trees, so there was always stuff there too. I just didn’t want to see this one go to waste. Although I was only about eight years old, I ended up dragging the entire tree back to the truck, and my grandmother made wreaths out of it. I’ll always remember this section of track for that.

Heritage Park

When we reached the boundary to Heritage Park to the right of us, we turned right. There were very nice mowed trails along the edges of farm fields through this preserve. It was actually far nicer than I’d thought it would be. It even took us to the edge of the Musconetcong for a bit. There were more hills in the preserve than I had anticipated, but it still wasn’t hard. We followed the pathways to the north, and then to the west along the river for a bit. We came to one point where there was an old stone bridge, now closed off, but probably once a main road through. There were signs on it stating that it was unsafe and closed.

Old bridge in Heritage Park

There are far less safe bridges just about everywhere you go. When I see signs like this I want to “facepalm”. From being within the government, I now know how so many things are just let go or looked over, and other things are completely blown off.
For example, I recently was sent to cut a tree at Hacklebarney State Park. It was very dangerous and needed to be addressed. I cut it but it got hung up in other trees. It became unsafe to deal with and so the trail was closed off until a contractor with larger equipment could drop it. People could rather safely walk beneath it, but it is a hazard.
On the other hand, we have multiple trees that are hazards under the same land management entity, as well as ATV riders surrounding people and telling them to stay off of the property, and yet nothing is done about it at all.

The cemetery of Doug's ancestors

This bridge was just one of those examples of shutting something down probably from a knee jerk reaction. The bridge is in fine shape, much finer shape than say the triple stone arch in Hackettstown near the hatchery that one could still pull a vehicle onto.
We continued on, and Doug led us off trail a little bit to the hidden cemetery where his ancestors are buried. This was a very cool little plot that certainly no one that wanders through on the trails would know about. it was overgrown somewhat, and the tomb stones in many cases couldn’t even be seen unless you were walking the top of the boundary wall.

Natalia got lucky!

We headed back to the mowed trails, then emerged in the more open recreation part of Heritage Park where we took a break under a pavilion. Natalia got lucky when she found a twenty dollar bill right out on the grass!
We took a break at the pavilion where Ron cut out early. He offered a ride to anyone who wanted to leave. One of the women opted to go, and everyone else flip flopped a bit, but then decided to continue on. We got up and walked back to the north out of the park, then got back on the old Central Railroad of NJ tracks to head east through Bloomsbury.

Former CNJ

The tracks are less overgrown as we headed toward Bloomsbury, because they are occasionally used from this point as an industrial spur. A connection was built between what used to be the CNJ and the former Lehigh Valley Railroad, now heavy freight under Norfolk Southern.
I had wanted to go through town and get closer to the river, but we were running behind, so I opted for us to just continue on. We passed beneath highways, and one bridge was being painted or something because there were tons of tarps and such below it. We easily got arund them.
We headed to the new connection to the Lehigh Valley line, and one new lady got a ride out with Ron when he headed back to the park from before.

Muscy Gorge culverts

We remained on the former CNJ line to it’s newer connection with the Lehigh Valley line. About 1986, when the CNJ was abandoned to Phillipsburg, a new connection was built to the active former Lehigh Valley line so the trackage in Bloomsbury could still be used. We turned left briefly and crossed the Musconetcong on the hill fill above the culverts the railroad uses to cross, then turned right onto the LV line’s spur track right of way into Musconetcong Gorge. That line was built to serve a paper mill. My plan from here was to cross back over and follow the lesser used section of the gorge on the north side, but this was where things got bad.
I took a dip in the river, and then we went over the top of the culverts and began going off trail toward the dam, the tallest on the Musconetcong.
I figured it wouldn’t be that bad to try to bushwhack through all of this, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. It just got worse as we continued. We were not at all far from the cars, but it didn’t get easier. We were on a bad slope high above the river, and a lot of the group was struggling. I’ve done far worse than this, but not everyone handled it well.
To make matters worse, someone kicked up a yellow jacket’s nest, and several in the group got stung.
As we neared the dam area, I got called back because Dan was having trouble. Doug and Serious Sean seemed to be taking the lead getting everyone else out, and Justin and I went back to check on Dan. Uncle Soup and Kellie were there with him, and a few others in the group followed back as well.
Dan had passed out. He had had plenty to drink, and several members of the group had given him their water. He should not have been too dehydrated, but he also got stung. The sudden change in blood sugar from the sting as well as flushed electrolytes may have come into play, but no one can be sure. It could also have been some sort of heat exhaustion.
After several attempts to get Dan to stand up, and he’d just pass out again, the hike became a rescue mission. I checked the aerial images on my phone looking for the nearest vehicle access we could get him to, even if we had to carry him.
This is the absolute most desolate place in the area to have to get someone out of. There is no vehicle access and a steep gorge to climb out of. I was able to get Dan to stand for short bits of time, and then had to drag him up hill for bits more. He couldn’t even lift his legs over logs, so we had to help him along. He insisted he would be okay in a few minutes, but it was starting to get dark, so we had to keep him moving.
As we reached the top, there was a large farm dump pile, and Uncle Soup helped me to drag Dan over it. We had to keep him face up so we wouldn’t hurt his face or his eyes. It was quite difficult at times, but we were soon over the hump of junk and to an open area.

Musconetcong Gorge

There was a house there, but unfortunately no one in it. There was also no hose attachment to get more water that I could see. No matter, everyone still had enough water to pass onto Dan, although we didn’t realize he’d actually had a good amount even before passing out.
I called 911, and we found a chair to put Dan in.
The people on the other side of the line were pretty good at collecting all of the information, but my phone wasn’t giving a good GPS lock. Fortunately, Justin was able to use his and they could somehow triangulate our location better. It was on a long driveway, so they’d be able to get right to us.
They apparently had to cut a lock off of the driveway, and one of the landowners came back when the police arrived on scene first. There was also a utility ATV and an ambulance that were soon on site.
Strangely, no one seemed to want much of a statement on anything from us, they just took Dan and were on their way. One of them said they were going to medivac, but I heard later that this did not actually happen.

Finally got Dan to the top and in a chair

I was insanely stressed out, first because of trying to get Dan to safety, then because of the time of night. I had told work that I would try to make it in if we got done with the hike at a reasonable hour, but then this happened. To make things worse, Erika tagged me, not knowing, in some post about being at a strip club I’d never been to, just sort of as a joke, but I’m sure my co workers might have seen that and thought I was blowing off work for something stupid.
I texted Pirate John at work to let him know what had happened, but first accidentally texted my former co worker Pirate Dennis (They were FEMA reimbursement employees at first, and I called them the “FEMA Pirates”). Dennis actually called me back and was ready to get a search party to come and get me! Such a nice gesture. John on the other hand was angry that I wasn’t in, and it made things very difficult for me at work for quite a while.

My bloody legs

When all of the rescue vehicles had left, and a few others from the group were able to get into the car with the land owner, a few of us, including me were left to walk the length of the driveway. I didn’t get a ride out until we were out to the end and back on the road into Warren Glen.
The first respondents told me that I needed medical attention too, probably because my legs were such a bloody mess and I was clearly pretty stressed out. I declined it, and they paid no mind the rest of the time. My legs were still the least of my worries though.
Someone finally came and picked us up, and the others had all made it out and back to the cars. We then got a ride back to the Musconetcong Valley Presbyterian Church, where everyone else finally dispersed.
Justin and I just hung out there on the church steps for a while longer while I got myself more calmed down. There was so much adrenaline, and despite working from five AM, there was no way I was getting to sleep any time soon. There was a lot of great stuff going on during the day, but also more than a fair amount of worry and unrest.
One thing was more apparent to me than ever after this ordeal: I need to get into a better job position. As much as I like the people I work with, I guy that I fired (I had to, long story) offered to bring a search party to help rescue us, but the guy that I work with every day wouldn’t even return the message.
The stress from this particular day would resonate the entire remainder of the Summer through my work. As I continue to do hikes and see paid employees in other parks complimenting my work with their own resources and talents, I feel abused by the current system that doesn’t appreciate how much of my heart I spill into what I do. Changes have to come, but until then, one of many thorns in my side from this trip cannot be removed.