Hike #1223; Williamsburg to Saltsburg
5/18-5/24/19 Williamsburg to Saltsburg with Jillane Becker
Every Spring, Jillane and I head out to backpack somewhere around the northeast. We’ve been doing it pretty much every year since 2009, and so this time would be no different in some ways.
In other ways, it was much different. It was for me anyway, as this would be the farthest contiguous west I’d ever gone. The previous September, we had continued the farthest east I’d ever gone, on the way to Boston, but this one was closing in on walking the entire length of Pennsylvania. I’d been looking at the route pretty closely for years at this point, and for whatever reason it kept getting stalled. Last year, I was planning to do this a couple of times, but then we shifted route. The hotels we needed for a couple of the nights were not available, and so we just went to the east. This time, that wouldn’t happen. In fact, I booked the first room, at the Comfort Inn and Suites in Duncansville, two nights in a row. That way, we would Uber to the start point the first day after staying at the hotel the night before, and then stay at the same place again. Our first day could then be accomplished without carrying packs. The Trans-Allegheny Route is a system of trails heading out toward Pittsburg, and the ones that would fit into our plan were Lower Trail, Six to Ten Trail, Ghost Town Trail, Hoodlebug Trail, West Penn Trail, and Westmoreland Heritage Trail. Most of the route is rail trails, and so it would be pretty easy overall, although there were some foot path sections. Additionally, I had to be creative for the sections in between where there were no trail connections. We headed out on Friday night rather late. It’s over four hours driving, which I wasn’t looking forward to. Further, I wasn’t looking forward to coming back the following Friday. I figured we would make it to Pittisburg, but then I was scheduled to work that following weekend. I could have worked it better, but I was scheduled for Jury duty, so I couldn’t leave earlier until that was canceled. We’d make it only 32 miles from the edge of Harrisburg on the planned route, so it sucks that we had to stop. We got to the hotel Friday night, and unfortunately their business center was broken. I was planning to print out some maps for use over the next few days, but that just didn’t work out for us.
DAY 1
On Saturday, I got up and got us breakfast, and then we were on our way in an Uber to Williamsburg. We had hiked into Williamsburg a few years back when we were going southbound on the Mid State Trail. That trail follows close to fifteen miles of the Lower Trail, which is the former Petersburg Branch of the Pennsylvania Railroad, and also along the Juniata Division of the Pennsylvania Canal. We continued on the Mid State Trail south from Williamsburg on that trip. On another trip in early 2019, with lots of snow on the ground, we traced closely the Juniata Division Pennsylvania Canal parallel with the Lower Trail out from Duncansville. The day before that, we had to skip the Six to Ten Trail because it was far too snowy as well, so those remained important sections of the Main Line of Public Works, the system of canals and railroads built by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania to connect Philadelphia and Pittsburg in the 1830s. I’d already hiked the route of the Allegheny Portage Railroad completed in 1834 from Johnstown to Cresson, over the first five inclined planes. Planes six to ten were some of what I was most looking forward to. On this first day, finishing the Petersburg Branch was my big thing. I’d hiked the line as closely as possible between the main line and Alfarata on one hike, and through the first Lower Trail section with Mid State Trail co-aligned with Jillane, so I just had to follow it west to Hollidaysburg. |We got on the trail right where we had gotten off of it. We could see the orange Mid State Trail blazes right where we started. We followed the path close to the Frankstown Branch of the Juniata River, but the railroad bed moved away through park land and was part developed over. The trail follows more closely to where the canal was. There were a lot of people around, if not using the trail, sitting around out in the park. It was pretty wide open where we first got out there. We continued along, and took a little break when we got to a point with bridge piers, where a road used to cross the river. There wasn’t a lot left of the canal, if anything. I didn’t see any remnants until we got past an area with large power conduits. There was a clearing where I could see down to a pretty good canal prism. I know the canal switched sides of the river at some point ahead. Just after the open area, the railroad right of way and the trail came back together. It was quite a pleasant walk through trees from here. We passed over Rt 866 at Ganister, a town that takes its name for the stone quarried out to create fire brick for furnaces. There was a very old stone home on the left at the crossing. We continued straight into a little settlement with buildings along the edge of the trail.
Old house near Ganister
Near the end of the line of homes was a handsome old stone house that really stood out. A guy and his wife were working in and around the place, and I said hello. I also commented that it looked as though he probably had the oldest of the homes in the entire settlement, and went on to compliment how beautifully kept it was. The guy graciously thanked me and said that it was believed to be the first of the settlement, known as Franklin Forge at some time. This house was believed to be the home of the area's ironmaster, built in 1796. The owners have lovingly restored old fireplaces in the building, and have researched it's history from when it was part of Huntingdon County to find as much as they’d told me. They also went on to say that it was for sale, and that if we knew anyone to pass it along. I ended up putting it on Metrotrails with hopes of helping them out, but it is kind of in the middle of nowhere. We continued from here out across the Piney Creek in an area that was known as Lower Grannas Station. Just after the creek crossing, the former Springfield Branch of the Pennsylvania Railroad broke off and went along one of the quarries. That rather forgotten line once connected through and came back to Williamsburg in a roundabout route, right past the Blue Lantern Bed and Breakfast. We continued on along the trail, which had a very surprising amount of shelters along the way. Some of these are for picnics, however they created some overnight shelters specifically for those backpacking the Mid State Trail, which is quite cool. If only they’d been there when we went before. We passed a little pond area along the trail, and everything remained pretty secluded for quite a while. I found one more spot with Pennsylvania Canal remnant on the right, but otherwise little else. While walking, I was impressed to see an older couple, each in powered wheel chairs, enjoying the trail. It’s not often I see this, but it’s nice that someone was making use of it for as much as they spend on trying to make trails ADA accessible. We took a break when we got to the Flowing Springs Station parking lot. This was apparently once a Pennsylvania Railroad station stop, but it seems like it’s in the middle of nowhere. Ahead, the trail continued on the railroad bed out to Flowing Springs Road, where to the left it’s a dead end, and the railroad bed went right through the middle of someone’s garden, but we had to turn right. That took us out on the road across the Frankstown Branch of the Juniata. I didn’t see any canal remnants here. This brought me to where I’d been on the previous trip, when we continued on the other side of the river and rather closely traced the canal route. We crossed the river, and Weller Road is on the other side. It used to connect both to the left and right out to Rt 22, but now only to the right is open, and to the left is the new trail connection to Canoe Creek State Park. They were working on that the last time I was around there. We followed the trail to the left, and then out along Rt 22 a bit. We passed through the village of Canoe Creek, past an old church, and the trail weaved around in a loop to pass under the highway by way of a new underpass that hadn’t been there the last time I was out. We continued along the highway from there, which still had construction going on around it. I suppose it was just to widen it, but I was hoping it was new trail development. The Canoe Creek Branch of the Pennsylvania Railroad, which had continuations as lumber railroad, also crossed the highway in this area just as we reached the Canoe Creek crossing. It’s not walkable in that area to the direction we wanted to go, and it goes over the Frankstown Branch anyway. I saw the piers for it out at the overlook on the road during the last trip. We continued across, then turned to the left just before the intersection with Juniata Valley Road, which cut a corner and got us up to the road with a good overlook. The road walk section will be the continuation of the trail route until they can get the rest of the Petersburg Branch of the Pennsylvania Railroad. I read a report on it, where it even asks locals to encourage land owners to participate in the trail plan. Either way, even if we could have continued on the Petersburg Branch, there is also a bridge missing over the river on that. We went up hill, and then down, then back up again, and down again. I went up to an overlook to the left I’d seen before, with a view of the Lock Ridge, probably named for a canal lock, and then came down. Near one of the descents was an access to the river, which I chose to explore. In this area, according to historic maps, was the site of “Crooked Dam”, a canal dam upstream from which the Pennsylvania Canal followed a slack water section, or otherwise maybe just used it to cross the river. The canal appears to have gone off on the south side of the dam in its own trench. We continued down that, and then cut to the left to cross the former canal. There was pretty much no shade, and it was rough walking. Eventually, we came to shade where the Peterburg Branch used to cross the river and road. It was a nice and pleasant spot, so I went in and cooled off in the river. From that point, we had to continue on Juniata Valley Road for a bit. It was completely lacking in shade, but pretty much flat. The railroad bed was always visible at the line of trees to the right, and eventually came close to the road again. The canal was right beside it in this area. We soon reached the village of Reese, where Juniata Valley Church was on the right. We took a little break here. The railroad and canal turned off to the rear of the church to go more inland a bit. I walked the perimeter of the church looking for more water, because we were almost out, and could find nothing. There was a pavilion in the back with an old lady there reading a book. I decided to go back and see if there was a hose hookup there, but there was nothing. The old lady was very nice, and said she lived nearby where she could refill our waters for us. I walked with her from the back of the church a bit further than I was expecting to, down the road and onto Young’s Road. She was a few doors down on that street, and invited me into her kitchen where she filled my bottles. She was insistent on trying to find ice to put in, and really going out of her way to try to be accommodating. I kept telling her it wasn’t necessary; all we needed was water. Eventually she just filled it up and we were alright, though she used water from a bottle in her refrigerator rather than tap water, and she gave me a grape popsicle that was in the freezer. I walked back to the church where Jillane was laying in the shade in the front, and saved her half the popsicle. We had a little break, and then continued on along Juniata Valley Road through Reese, and then reached where the railroad and canal crossed the road again. The canal was just past the railroad, and the railroad was clear to the left, with trucks parked on it. This section I do not think is in public ownership, but from the area of Upper Reese west it is. All we’d have to do is walk through this bit. We headed in past the trucks, and it was totally clear. Far better than I’d expected it would be. We had no problem walking this, very open from ATV use, all the way to Upper Reese Road. It remained easy walking across there and to Linds Crossing, which was the next road. It was alright beyond, but it started getting much more grown in. This is the part that was purchased for use as the trail, and it looked like they tried to block it off form ATV use. Unfortunately, that means that it’s much more overgrown. We bullied on through it, crossed a power line, crossed other accesses, and it just got worse. It got to the point where if we had to continue much further in it, I would have bagged it and bushwhacked to the road, but I knew it wasn’t far to where it would be clear at White Bridge Road. The road and “White Bridge” was all closed off to traffic with fences around the sides. It was a girder bridge, with abutments in rather rough shape. We took a break there and I got myself wet again. From the road entrance, a path leads away from the railroad bed, and then goes back over to it. I knew it would be clear because a utility vehicle came driving on through with a guy and kids on it. They didn’t try to get through where we just walked, but rather went up onto the parallel Juniata Valley Road, which was now much closer below a slope. We continued back into the woods, and the trail soon turned to rejoin the railroad bed. It wasn’t as clear as it was previously, but it was still pretty easy to pass on through.
Petersburg Branch
This took us out to the corner of Reservoir Road and Rt 22. There used to be a canal dam and lock here somewhere, I’m not sure the numbers. The bridge here had recently been replaced, but not since my last visit. I’d never seen the old bridge. The railroad grade was slightly obliterated momentarily, but then easily walkable along Rt 22 heading west. The railroad grade became good, easy walking, with a few weeds growing up. There was a larger railroad yard that appeared to the left, and then the old Pennsylvania Canal appeared to the right of us, across 22. We had followed that more closely previously. We headed down from the grade when we got to Nic’s Grab N Go mini mart for some snacks and drinks. After a break, we headed back up to the grade and continued slightly up hill. In the grassy field sections after a cut away for a road access, there were Killdeer out, with their little babies. They adorable little birds ran away from us as we walked, and when we got too close, hunkered down in the low weeds as not to be seen. I stopped only to get a picture and moved on.| The tracks started back up after a weedy section, and a bit of plowed up fill. They descended to a giant rail yard, and Jillane stayed to the right while I went to the left. It was getting pretty dark, and I ended up in the middle of the yard. When the trains ended, we met back up on the other side heading into Holidaysburg. We followed some of the old canal route behind the Old Canal Inn, and then went up slope to get something for dinner at the Sheetz. It was getting pretty late. We got a late start and pretty much nothing else would be open by the time we got back to the hotel, so we went for it. I’m never disappointed with Sheetz. I think we stopped on the way in too. I believe I had the quesadilla. We then headed back across the street and walked the canal route again along to where it ended at more rail yard. We walked straight on Juniata Street then until it came to Rt 22. There were some nice old buildings along the way, including the US Hotel Tavern. The original hotel on the site was built in 1835, and then rebuilt in 1886 to accommodate westbound travelers, first on the canal, and then on the railroad. Other sections were added including a ballroom and brewery, and some have since gone, but the main building remains. I was sad that we couldn’t go over to the old canal basin and lock to the south because it was too dark this time, but maybe another time. We continued ahead, past the western terminus of the Juniata Division Canal, and the eastern terminus of the 34 mile Allegheny Portage Railroad, which is still tracked as a standard railroad, the Everett Railroad, now. This was the same company that used to operate in Everett PA along what was the Huntingdon and Broad Top, but apparently moved here when that section was closed. The tracks with some rail cars were on the left, as we continued along 22. We passed a bombed out looking house and then some retail stuff before making it to the hotel. We weaved between some of the places with hopes of getting over there quicker, but ended up having to go back and around. When we arrived, I made use of the swimming pool and hot tub, which was awesome after the long day. We did about seventeen miles on this one.
DAY 2
This would be the most physically challenging day of all of them, as this was the day we climbed the Allegheny Front. It was a huge deal for me, because it would mean finishing the Allegheny Portage Railroad. I got up early, went in the pool, the hot tub, got breakfast, and packed everything up. We headed out from the hotel along Plank Road past the Wye motor lodge, another hotel that didn’t have a pool, and named for the wye on the former Pennsylvania Railroad that was right by it. We crossed 22 and headed over to the tracks to follow them west. The tracks are only in for a bit west of there and then stop. We did follow a bit of 2nd Ave for some shade. When we got to 7th Street, we continued on the abandoned rail grade as the tracks stopped. 2nd continued on a bit more, but I moved off onto the rail bed. It ran behind some houses, but no one really bothered any of us. A path came up to it when the grade crossed over the Blair Gap Creek. The original portage railroad was first to cross here from 1834 until 1856. Then, for only about four years, the New Allegheny Portage Railroad used the same route. It was purchased by the Pennsylvania Railroad and mostly abandoned for a time, and then later rebuilt by them as a sort of bypass freight line for when the busy main line was congested. I believe that remained in place until the 1980s before it was removed. We took a break in the shade by the creek, and I checked out the stone work, which I think dates to the Pennsylvania Railroad, probably not the old portage. We then continued along the right of way to Stone Way, where the railroad bed follows it to the right. We followed the road a bit, past an old house, and then cut to the right on an ATV path that goes up to the grade again. It was in this area, I presume, that the original portage broke away from the later portage. The later route climbed gradually so that locomotives could make it up hill without the need for the five inclined planes. We walked through the parking lot of an antique center from there, which was pretty busy. The old portage followed the north side of the lot closer to 22. 22 turns north and the through route is Old 22, and we crossed over Old US 220 past an abandoned building. We followed 22 pretty closely parallel with the portage from here. It crossed Blair Gap Creek again, passed through private land, and then crossed once more. It then stays sort of parallel with Foot of Ten Road, where we turned left. The settlement of Foot of Ten is named literally for the foot of plane 10 on the portage line. We continued along the road through town, and then turned left on Mill Road to cross Blair Gap Run again. I didn’t notice any remnant of the grade before crossing. After crossing, we went up hill a bit, and the Six to Ten Trail turned in to the right. This was a nice path through woods heading gradually downhill. It was a bit muddy, but passable. I wasn’t even sure there’d be a connecting trail, because none was shown on the official National Park Service map, but it was there. From here, we’d be in Allegheny Portage Railroad National Historic Site for the next eight or so miles. We headed down hill, and eventually came to a little stream where the trail went up to near the foot of Plane 10. The actual foot of the plane was obliterated. It apparently went over Blair Gap Run again to its south side there, and that entire bit of the plane was gone. The small stream that probably washed it away at the confluence found its own route, but the original culvert that carried it under the plane was extant. We took a break here while I checked it out. Soon, we moved on up the plane. I helped Jillane get her pack up the slope before realizing the official trail actually goes out and around to get there. The plane wasn’t terribly steep, but it was an impressive fill to cut on the way to the top. The engine house at the top was nothing more than a depression in the ground. I was expecting more the type of thing we’d seen on the coal company gravity railroads, but this was pretty much stripped of stone, probably recycled into other things like homes, buildings, and bridges. We walked around the outside of the thing, and then it leveled off. We then came after a short bit to the New Portage, and later Pennsylvania Railroad route, which was much clearer and wider. It went over a fill almost immediately, and to the left was the lower grade of the old portage, with one of it’s old stone culverts still in place below. NPS has trails going down to view these around the outside, and each culvert is numbered. It was rather impressed with how they were presented. We continued ahead walking the New Portage route, and somehow I missed where the old portage went under and to the right, while we gradually climbed on the newer route. There was a side trail to the right that went back down to the old portage. Jillane was ahead, because I didn’t know for sure if I was going through that way. It didn’t matter, because the new and old would come back together. I continued to below, saw another old culvert, and realized it was the grade I wanted. I called Jillane when I got to the crossing of Valley Forge Road, and she just stayed up on the higher later grade, which was close by enough, and I continued on the old portage on the other side. The old route was more rustic. It wasn’t manicured for bikes. It was just a path with lots of grass and such. The lower route took me over another old stone culvert, and then out to an open meadow where it was higher grass. There was a pond to the left, which probably had something to do with the mechanism of Plane 9 maybe. I’m not sure. Plane 9 Reservoir to the northwest supposedly did as well.
Portage culvert
There was another handsome stone culvert, and then the trail deviated from the rail grade a bit. It went over a little bridge over a tributary to Blair Gap Run. It then went left, and it was indistinct what disturbances in the forest floor were the foot of Plane #9. When I was finally on it, it was pretty obvious. I followed the plane up hill and returned to the New Portage route, and the plane actually continued further up on the other side. I ran up it briefly, just to see what was there. I was happy to see some masonry ruins and that the grade continued. I went back down to wait for Jillane and decided I’d go back up and follow that route when she caught up. It wasn’t very long a wait; the new portage went around a wider turn, but with a more gradual ascent. When she arrived, I went back up to the head of plane 9 and continued ahead on the grade. There were a lot more stone foundations at the top of this one, a bit further on. I figure they probably all dated back to the days of the original portage, because the later railroad wouldn’t have used it, and it in fact severed the plane. I continued on the level from the top, and it was very closely parallel with the new portage below, which gradually made its way up hill while I remained more on a level. When it got to almost the same level as the later grade, I resumed walking that. I did not notice that it somehow passed beneath the newer grade to the right somewhere here, and I missed a bit of it. Another trail soon broke off to the right to lead down to the base of Plane #8 and another culvert. I took that again while Jillane stayed up on the later route, but warned her not to go further than the “Muleshoe”, a major curve in the new portage and later rails that allowed for the ascent to Gallitzen. The original railroad never went to Gallitzen, and instead reached its peak in Cresson. I headed down, and could soon see the old grade below me. The path joined it, and then I passed yet another very nice old stone culvert. The route of the streams here have obviously changed, because it was dry under this culvert. Ahead, the Blair Gap Run was parallel with the base of the plane, and a smaller stream flowed in from the south. This purged the base of the plane. At the bottom, I happened upon a couple that appeared naked in a hammock. The trail doesn’t officially go through here because of the stream crossing; it’s just a spur trail to the creek in each direction, and wasn’t even shown on the map. I of course was going to wade across to continue on the old portage. I think I managed to do so without disturbing the amorous couple, and began to ascend Plane #8. The plane took me up to the new portage route at the Muleshoe Curve, where just to the right it went over Old Rt 22 on the Muleshoe Bridge, a stone single arch that replaced the original New Portage bridge over the stream and original Huntingdon, Cambria, and Indiana Turnpike, the predecessor to 22. Jillane caught up after another out and around curve, and we continued ahead on the old portage route further up Plane 8. To the left of this, there appeared to be a cut through rock from the new portage to the old portage. My best guess on this is that the new one replaced the old one in different phases. Otherwise, maybe it was a passing siding. I can’t be sure. There were some nice interpretive signs along the way, and one at this point on Plane 8 stated that “Teamsters”, basically wagon train people, would use the portage railroad as a new wagon road with gentler slopes until the rails were put in place and the line completed. We reached the top of Plane 8, and there were some historic markers. One depicted what the engine house looked like, with wings on the sides as boiler rooms. This engine house site was also just another depression, with only a little bit of masonry still visible. The grade ahead was nice and easy, and built into a steep shelf. Old Rt 22 was below getting closer. After a bit, the trail turned off to the left, and the rail grade disappeared into oblivion, having been obliterated by the Rt 22 expansion at some point. Plane 7 is almost entirely the route of the eastbound Old 22 now.| I knew it would deviate at some point, because the map showed it doing so. The trail climbed up some rough steps to the left of the grade, and then ascended on a side hill. It was just like any other hiking trail we’d done on other trips, which was actually a bit of a welcome change. We pushed on from here along a slope, turned hard right, followed more side hill, descended to a creek wash, and climbed again to another switchback. I didn’t think it was that tough, but it was the roughest trail stuff we did on this one. At one point, there was a cinder base slope that looked like another plane, but might have been some sort of mining funicular grade or tramway of sorts. I’m not sure what else was there in later years. The trail ascended to a wet area, and had a lot of little wooden bridges over streams. It then emerged along Old 22 just uphill from the Skew Arch Bridge. The Skew Arch was an interestingly made stone arch that allowed for the Huntingdon, Cambria, and Indiana Turnpike to cross the railroad on the foot of Plane #6. I walked over to have a closer look at the arch and go under it. The last time I was in this area, I didn’t go over due to snow depth and we continued down 22. I now had one more plane route to walk.
Skew Arch
Plane #6 was in good shape, and kept totally clear on the other side of 22. We crossed and started heading up it. The openness of it made it seem like it was so much longer though. When we got to the top, there were some rails mocked up in place to look as they would have looked, though they had wooden ties. There was an outlook area, and a trail to a visitor center. I wanted to see it, but by this time it was too late. It’d be closed. The Lemon House was also at the top, a handsome stone inn. The Lemon House was constructed by Samuel Lemon in 1832, when they realized the prospect of travelers coming in on the railroad completed two years later. Samuel and his wife Jean operated a tavern on the nearby turnpike since 1826, but this prospect for a time brought in many visitors who stayed in the guest rooms. Business virtually ceased with the closure of the old portage line in 1854 and the Lemons moved to Hollidaysburg, although they returned to the Lemon House in the Summers. The building remained in the family until 1907, and after ownership turn overs, was purchased by the National Park Service in 1966. We continued past the rebuilt engine house, and the rails at the top looked more accurate with rails secured to stone sleepers rather than wooden ties. These rails soon ended, and we were able to continue along the level grade, which was the top level of the entire portage. Stone sleepers were along this stretch as well, often easily visible in the dirt.
We continued around a bend, and then out to pass under new Rt 22 via an underpass. It wasn’t far past here that the rail bed emerged on Portage Road and continued into Cresson. We remained on the grade to Old Rt 22, now the Admiral Peary Highway, named for the famous explorer known for being the first to reach the North Pole, born in Cresson. The town of Cresson was named for Philanthropist Elliot Cresson in 1854, but dates back to the days of the original Portage, with the neighboring settlement of Sankertown. My plan in Cresson was to turn off and follow some roads a bit, and then stay at either the Station Inn or the Cresson House Bed and Breakfast. I hadn’t called to reserve the place until we got done with the inclined planes because I wasn’t sure if we’d actually make it to them. Sadly, when I called both places, they were closed. I asked about any other lodging, and I was told a pizza place nearby had an owner with a bed and breakfast, so I tried calling him. I didn’t get a call back, so we were stuck. I suppose I should have booked it in advance. Either way, we had to figure something out. We walked down through town on Admiral Peary Highway and reached another Sheetz where we took a break. From there, we had to figure out a spot to camp. It really didn’t bother me that much. It just meant less money I had to spend. We turned to the right from Admiral Peary Highway to Admiral Peary Park, which had a statue of the park’s namesake along a paved trail in it. We walked by it,and looked for potential places to set up and camp. There were some trees and such, but everything was just so exposed. My idea was that we go across to the nearby Mt. Aloysius College. The historic college campus dates back to 1853 when it was founded by the Roman Catholic Sisters of Mercy. The property seemed to have a ton of land, especially around the back, and I figured we’d be able to hide out there pretty easily. We got to the gate, and Jillane didn’t want to go in. Usually I’m the one that is paranoid, but I felt pretty confident with this one. Still, we moved on, and then checked out another property across from the college in a field, but that got too wet too fast. It was getting late. It had been dark for a long while at this point, and we were both tired from climbing the Allegheny Front. I ended up finding a tiny spot in a swath of trees in the western section of the college. It was just barely in there, but still invisible to the outside. With our greenish REI tent, we’d be well hidden enough to get out in the morning. I had trouble setting up, because one of the tent poles had lost its elasticity and wouldn’t go in. I finally got it, and we were soon set up and settled in. Before we could get to sleep, we could hear Coyotes very close by all around us, yipping and barking away. It was a good thing I went to the trouble to put the rain fly on, because we had rain and hail stones heavy that night. Thunder and lightning was crazy, and somehow Jillane slept through it. This second day we hit just about 15 miles with the wandering around it seems. If only I’d known at the time: the college has a trail system in back, and it goes out along the Little Conemaugh River.
DAY 3
I always wake up early, but at this site, I really wanted to pretty badly. I wasn’t worried about being detected at the college earlier in the morning, but if someone found us we’d come across like homeless people or something. I just didn’t want the drama.
The crazy spot we camped
Jillane finally got up when a guy started mowing on his riding mower around the site. He came within only a couple of feet from us and never saw us! That’s just how well camouflaged the tent is. The guy was mowing in loops around a circuit, so we waited for him to move off so I could start packing up and breaking down. He came back one time, and I thought we were in for it, but again he didn’t see us. He went back in the other direction, and I had the tent packed up in short order. We went out to a sidewalk to get our stuff together better when no one would know we had slept there. From here, we walked the Admiral Peary highway just a bit to the west, until the former Cambria and Clearfield Division of the Pennsylvania Railroad emerged from the right, having broken off the Pennsylvania Railroad main line in Cresson. The Cambria and Clearfield Division would be the bulk of the rest of our trip. To the west, the Ghost Town Trail is built on mostly the former Ebensburg and Black Lick Railroad, which became part of the Pennsylvania Railroad’s Clearfield Division. This track was originally part of that route, and it weaved out and around to Ebensburg. Today, it makes other connections to the north, and the route into Ebensburg is now abandoned. We could have followed that route, but it was a long way out of the way, and through questionable amounts of weeds and such. Tracks are still in up there as I understand, but who knows how bad it would be to follow with full packs.
Crazy camping
We got on the tracks just a bit west of the college where there was an abandoned restaurant and an access road across. No trains came while on it, and it was actually a pretty pleasant route to follow. The railroad stayed pretty closely parallel with the Admiral Peary Highway for a time. I pointed out to Jillane that since coming into Cresson, we were now in the greater Mississippi River watershed. That was one of the things that blew my mind. The Conemaugh River flows into the Kiskiminetas River, which flows into the Allegheny River, which flows into the Ohio River, etc. We continued as the rails turned a bit away from the highway and passed by 84 Lumber. There was a guy looking at us there as we went by, and we’d end up meeting him the next day. We stayed along the railroad until it started to turn to the north, at the village of Munster (like the TV series). The town is actually named either for the town of Munster, Ireland, or Munster Germany. Historians are at odds over which one. It was founded in 1854. We had to climb over a mess of rocks and such to get out to Admiral Peary Highway, and we contemplated crossing a yard to get to a truck stop with food, but then decided against it. Jillane didn’t want to go, and if she didn’t, I wasn’t going to go over either. We instead continued on to the west along Admiral Peary Highway, past a municipal building and then an abandoned old house. The road then started to dip down dramatically to soon pass beneath new Rt 22. On the other side, the older highway passed through Kaylor Hollow, where there was an abandoned road going downhill to the right, likely one of the even older roads. I spotted a grade coming off of the newer highway grade as well, though I’m not sure what its purpose was. I at first through railroad, but it’s unlikely. The climb out of Kaylor Hollow was a tough one. There was barely any shade on this highway, and the sun was brutal. There were some neat old houses along the route, but the uphill seemed to go on forever toward Ebensburg. The clouds overhead were moving so fast at the top of the slope, it looked amazing. We pushed on to the top, and after cresting there, there was a railroad overpass that served a defunct mine or quarry operation. The next turn was to get on that and follow it west. The spur connects with the aforementioned Clearfield Division track in Ebensburg, which becomes the Ghost Town Trail which we would be on for the next couple days. We climbed up, and found a nice shaded spot beneath the girders of the bridge directly over the highway. After the break, we continued along the overgrown tracks to the north, then west. There was a jail property just to the north of here, and I worried a bit that the tracks might be fenced in for that, but fortunately we had no problems at all. The tracks typically had a good ATV path along side of them, so walking it wasn’t too hard. When the path started to disappear, it wasn’t too hard walking through the high grass to continue on them to the west. There were some muddy spots, but nothing terrible. Another ATV path came in from the left just as it started getting worse, and we were able to follow that out to a shelf above Admiral Peary Highway coming into Ebensburg. The Lake Inn, where I’d by this time reserved a room, was just ahead and pretty much in view. We continued on the grade just a bit looking for a second path down from the first obvious one, but it didn’t look that great. Jillane went back to go down an easy way, and I went down the slope. Unfortunately, the restaurant at Lake Inn was closed when we arrived, so we’d have to go for food elsewhere. I didn’t want to wait to eat, so we figured out something we could order pretty quickly. It ended up being an amazing vegetable pizza, and I think the side was some sort of cheese thing or something I forget what else we ordered. We ended up still being hungry after it though. I was thinking we’d be in for the night at that point, but Jillane wanted to head out to have a look around. We walked across from Lake Inn to the Lake Rowena, which had park benches and such along it. It was a really nice view from the spot, but it was getting a bit chilly. We sat on a bench and took in the view briefly, and then headed back toward the room. We ended up going back out again, and I grabbed a long sleeve shirt and my shoes. We headed up hill, and crossed the end of the tracks we were to follow, and saw the start of the Ghost Town Trail. Heading up into town, still on the former Huntingdon, Cambria, and Indiana Turnpike, there were lots of historic homes. The oldest was reportedly part cabin built in 1799 on the right, known as the Roberts Cottage. It also had a newer addition from the 1800s. The town dates back to 1796 when Congregational Minister Rhees Lloyd led a group of twenty Welch settlers to start a community in the Allegheny Mountains. He named the town Ebensburg after Eben Lloyd, his son who died in childhood. Lloyd offered land to the government in exchange for making the town the county seat, which the government accepted. There were several other historic homes along the route, and near the center of town was the old Noon-Collins Inn. Also known as the Philip Noon House, as well as YMCA Building of Ebensburg, Philip Collins House, and Noon-Collins Inn, it is a federal style building first constructed in 1834, though it has several later additions. Originally an inn on the Huntingdon, Cambria, and Indiana Turnpike, it also served as public library from 1923 to 1949, Cambria County Historical Society from 1951 to 1964, then YMCA until 1977. Today, the beautiful home is a bed and breakfast. I had actually wanted to try to stay there as it was only a few dollars more than the Lake Inn, but I was happy with what we got. We checked out the building, stopped at a mini mart for snacks and such, and then turned to the left on Center Street heading south. We soon came upon the historic Cambria County Courthouse, a brick Second Empire style structure built in 1880-80, with additions in the 1920s.| We went around back of the building to have a look around, and there was a bit of a view from the height of the land there. We made our way back to the main street and walked the way we’d come back to the Lake Inn to turn in for the night. We only did about 8.5 miles on this one, which was alright considering how much we’d done previously.
DAY 4
For this one, we’d have a lot to see. From Ebensburg, the old Black Lick Branch as it was sometimes called pretty much goes downhill gradually following the Blacklick Creek to the town of Black Lick over 32 miles away. Ebensburg would be about the highest elevation we’d attain on this trip. It sits at 2,140 feet above sea level. Where we had started in Williamsburg was only 840 feet above sea level. The height of the top of the Cresson level was 2,080, and by the end of this day we’d descend to below 1,360. We started out from Lake Inn and headed back to the railroad bed, just up Manor Drive where there is a bridge still in place over the road. I climbed up to it on the far side, which was rather steep, and Jillane cut into a park on the other side. The rail grade was pretty clear, but then a mowed path came in from the left, apparently part of an official but less developed trail. Had I know I could easily have climbed up there, I would have. I continued along to a wye, where the branch I was following could have connected to east or westbound Black Lick Branch, which becomes the Ghost Town Trail. Jillane was off to the right somewhere, and found some ruins down lower. There was an obvious rail grade down below that I could see, and I tried to make my way toward her, but it was getting pretty overgrown out that way. She managed to make her way through in a short while, and we continued along past the other junction site, and into some woods between houses where the grade was mowed. We crossed the end of a road access, and cut into woods where the tracks still had a piece of switch and such on it. We then emerged at the main old turnpike again, called Rowena Drive at this point. Ghost Town Trail section continued directly across.
tracks in Ebensburg
There was a nice view down to Lake Rowena along the trail as we curved off toward the west, as well as the mountains beyond. The rail bed and trail joined a street for two blocks after Center Street, and then had a gate and all sorts of art adorning fences and such along the trail. There were matted depictions of bicycles, ghosts, structures, and more, and big signs reading “Ghost Town Trail”. The trail is pretty popular, and was ranked one of the best trails in the entire country a few years back. This wasn’t just rail trails, but trails in general. I think it was pretty great, but I’ve seen others that were probably more impressive. We turned after a ball field to the right on Water Street, then left on Triumph Street to reach the Sheetz store (yes, another one) where we got some food. I got myself a wrap to have for dinner later, and had I think it was a quesadilla for lunch. We headed back by way of Ogle Street to Water Street, and then got back on the trail heading west. We got on the trail and more art lined the way along fences heading west. We passed beneath the High Street bridge, and continued with homes only on the south side of a cut for a short while. We were then in rather undeveloped land. We passed beneath a bridge carrying Rt 219, and then reached a junction with another track going right. I walked up it a little bit to get a photo, and there was a guy coming toward me on a bike. There was still a no trespassing sign on it, but this right of way had recently been done over with new surfacing. I found out through reading later that this was the Cambria and Indiana Railroad, which started out as the Blacklick and Yellow Creek Railroad by the Vinton Lumber Company in 1904. It was extended upon when it was realized the area contained bituminous coal and had more value than just a lumber railroad. This other right of way closely paralleled the Black Lick Branch that made up Ghost Town Trail. Maybe one day I’ll get back to hiking that too. It continued to parallel the Black Lick Branch rather closely all the way to Nanty Glo. The guy riding the bike, who had initially gone toward Ebensburg, turned back and started catching up with us. As soon as he was close he asked “Hey...was it you guys walking out behind 84 Lumber yesterday?”. Of course, that was us. I remembered seeing him out there and that he noticed us. He joined us on his bike for a while, talking to us about the trails and where they all went. I recommended he checkout the Mid State Trail, because I loved it so much. Jillane reminded him of my group, Metrotrails, and that he should join when we do stuff out in PA. He eventually had to be on his way back to Ebensburg. We had seen another guy that passed us, and he was impressed with how far we were going. He said we might see him up on the other end, because he usually walks from that part later in the day, but we never saw him.
Ebensburg
In this area after the junction point, the South Branch of the Blacklick Creek started to get close to the north side of the rail bed. From here, we would pretty much be following riverside downstream for the rest of our journey, with only minor deviation. We soon crossed Beula Road. This was near the former site of the settlement of Beula, which was established in the 1780s. Morgan John Rhys of South Wales set up a town with sixty homes and a grid pattern similar to Philadelphia, with stores and a hotel to follow. The hope was that Beula would be the county seat. The aforementioned Ebensburg got that title after the land gift, and it contributed to the downfall of Beula, the first of the ghost towns we’d come across. The trail continued to gradually descend to where we were closer to the creek. Many springs and little streams were coming off the mountains to the south of us. As we neared the town of Nanty Glo, we passed through more obvious swamp lands. We crossed over the creek just ahead. As we reached the town of Nanty Glo, there was a bridge abutment on the left, which would have been a mine connection to the aforementioned Cambria and Indiana Railroad, which until this point was still parallel with us to the north, but turns further north here. Nanty Glo was first settled early on, and the first coal mine in the area opened in 1869. The Black Lick branch that we were following reached this point in the 1890s. The original town name was Glen Glade, but was changed to Nant-Y-Glo in 1901. It is Welch, meaning “streams of coal”. As we walked into town, we could see remediation going on. There was a giant hillside of former coal mine, with a crazy mower on the ledge mowing it down. It looked as though if the thing overturned, it would go all the way down the mountain. It was really something to watch. This area saw the closure of the Webster Mine in 2005 which was some of the earlier remediation to try to fix the Blacklick Creek from the mine runoff. When we got to the main road in town, Chestnut Street, there was a circular pavilion. We put our packs down, and I headed to see if there was anything at the beer store I’d seen a block back. I had had some stuff in Williamsburg, and then had two other bottles of Dogfish Head Palo Santo Marron, and then one bottle of Blasphemy by Weyerbacher, but wanted something else. I got around the corner, and there was this little old lady sweeping the place. I looked around at what was basically a garage with shit like Coors Light and Budweiser in abundance, and really very little else. She said she had wine cooler or something. This was the biggest hole in the wall state store I’d ever seen. The lady asked in barely discernible language “Where you from?” and I tried to tell her who I was and what we were doing. She seemed dumbfounded by the entire thing. I really didn’t want to answer any questions at all. The whole conversation was feeling uncomfortable and strange. I thanked her for her time and ended up just heading back to the little pavilion thing.
Ghost Town Trail
We crossed Chestnut Street, and the rail bed was a paved over lot. All we had to go by was “GTT” for Ghost Town Trail spray painted on the pavement with arrows. This took us out along the Blacklick Creek on the other side of town. For a while, we remained on the creek, and many back yards butted up against the trail for a while. The next settlement we came to was Twin Rock. The settlement was named for two identical rocks on either side of the South Branch of the Blacklick Creek. These rocks were reportedly excavated away and used as part of the building stone for the Rockville Bridge over the Susquehanna River closer to Harrisburg, longest stone arch in the world. The settlement was established in 1875, and was known also as Expedit, the name given to the post office, and Big Bend, referring to the sharp bend in the creek here. After the crossing, there appeared to be an old spur branch off to the right, which would have served the larger portion of the settlement. We soon crossed the creek on a small through girder bridge, and then entered a very large cut that bypassed the “Big Bend”. The cut was pretty impressive. It appeared at first to be through solid rock, but then showed that it was right through a bituminous coal bed. The softer coal was eroding from beneath other layered rocks and collapsing down into the railroad cut. I wondered if some of it was mined away, or if it just fell on its own. We moved along, and there were little cascades from streams, and we walked along shelves, through cuts and fills, and there was evidence of trackage going off to adjacent mining areas with fills and right of way. We skirted State Game Lands #79 and got closer to the creek again, and all around us was pretty swamp land with evidence of beaver activity. We were nearing the town of Vintondale, and it was going to get dark soon. There was one nice spot that we considered camping, but we still had a bit more daylight and pushed on. Evidence of a spur was off on the left, and then we were passing by giant coal piles. We crossed the South Branch of the Blacklick again on another girder bridge, and we could see the coal piles right up to the stream edge. A sign soon welcomed us to Vintondale’s AMD & Art Park, AMD meaning Acid Mine Drainage. A series of settling ponds were on the left of the rail bed as we walked, which helps to keep the water cleaner as it heads down through the ponds in tiers to reach the Blacklick.
Coal Miners Memorial
Soon, we reached the Vinton Colliery Coal Miners Memorial. There appeared to be an old mine adit to the right, and a bridge on the old rail grade with memorial stone to the right, and to the left of the trail was a giant sort of map, which looked almost the way they do stained glass windows, set into stones in the ground. The colorful map layout was framed around the outside by black marble stones, the inside ones depicting a historic structure from Vintondale’s history, date, and what photo collection it was from. The outside ones had important dates in the history of the town. It was so cool; I would love to see something like this in a place like Phillipsburg.
Eliza Furnace
We had a view of the tops of the buildings in the town coming up ahead. There was a smoke coming from something too, but not sure what that was. The town was founded by Warren Delano, uncle of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and named for Judge A. Vinton Barker. The town was established in 1892 as a closed company settlement, and six mines and 152 coke ovens. The settlement was already established to the north of there as far back as 1846 with the construction of the Eliza Furnace, the first of three iron furnaces in the Blacklick Valley. The furnace was only used from 1846 to 1849, first off because of the low grade hematite in the area, and second because of transportation. At that time, the only transportation in the area was the Pennsylvania Canal a long distance south in Johnstown. The iron had to be transported by carriage road to points on that, and it was a costly thing. Still, during operating years, it managed to send off about 1000 tons of crude iron per year and employed 90 men and boys, 45 horses and mules. Unlike most furnaces, this one is one of the only ones anywhere that actually has its original heat exchanger on top. The route between the AMD area park had a trail join from the left, and then we headed out along the edge of Main Street. There was a little restroom place and where we took a quick break, and the Eliza Furnace was just beyond. At this point, we left Cambria County and entered Indiana County. Also, this was a very significant point for me, because right about at the point of the furnace was the furthest contiguous west I have ever walked, and every step we’d take for the remainder of this trip would me further west than I’ve ever walked. Jillane only has to walk one section of Lehigh Canal and she’ll have walked the entire length of Pennsylvania to here as well.
Vintondale
I used the restroom and Jillane went way ahead of me to look for a place to set up camp. The rail bed crossed Main Street at the Eliza Furnace, and then immediately crossed a decked railroad bridge over the North Branch of the Blacklick Creek, which joins the South Branch just beyond. The creek would be much bigger from here. Also, just ahead was the junction with the Rexis Branch, a long spur of the railroad that continued north along the North Branch of the Blacklick to other mining areas. It’s now the Rexis Branch of the Ghost Town Trail, and a loop can pretty much be made using the made segment, the Rexis Branch, and part of the old Cambria and Indiana Railroad. I continued ahead and put my phone on to make sure Jillane didn’t get too far ahead of me or step off where I wouldn’t see her. The trail went into some open former mining areas as it headed south. Eventually, I could see Jillane in the distance. She had put her pack down under a pavilion, where we considered staying the night, but we kept looking around. Just past where there was a stream coming in on the right, I went up slope on a faint path, and made my way to an abandoned road that used to cross that creek from above. It was midway up hill from the trail and Wehrum Road further up. The road went through a bit of a cut, where we weren’t visible from the trail, and barely from the road. It seemed like the perfect spot. Jillane looked around a bit more, and then we decided this was it. I set the tent up, and we both cleaned off in the brook, which did not have acid mine drainage. I ate my wrap I’d gotten from Sheetz, and then slept pretty well in this spot. On this day, we ended up with about 16.2 miles.
DAY 5
We didn’t wake up early enough for the distance we ended up covering on this one, but it would be our longest day of the entire trip. I figured there’d be no way we would make it to the next hotel in Blairsville, but somehow we pushed on and did it.
Wehrum
We eventually got up and made our way down to the trail, and soon passed by a former coal mining area with giant coal cinder piles, known locally as “Boney Piles”. We continued on, and there were some foundations off of the trail a bit. This was part of the forgotten settlement of Wehrum, which existed from 1901 until 1934, although even by then not much was left. Wehrum was another non union town created by Warren Delano and A. Vinton Barker, and named for President of the Lackawanna Iron and Steel Company Henry Wehrum. There were once 250 houses, a bank, a hotel, a company store, post office, school, and two churches. It was a hard and dangerous life in Wehrum; in 1909, 24 miners died in a mine explosion here. In 1922, Bethlehem Mining Corporation purchased the land, and in 1929 it was abruptly announced that Wehrum was closing. The houses were sold off for lumber, and the mine buildings for scrap. By 1934, only one house, the school, and the jail remained.
Wehrum Station
Today, at the Wehrum Road crossing, there are a few probably newer homes to the north. We continued ahead along the trail, close to the Blacklick Creek, and took our next break at the next pavilion spot (they were relatively often), at the former site of Wheatfield Furnace, also known as Blacklick Furnace. This furnace was also built in 1846, by David Stewart.
Wehrum Town layout
Wheatfield lasted much longer than Eliza Furnace, well into the 1850s, but uncertain when exactly it closed. It was eventually sold to the Lackawanna Iron and Steel Company. Today, there are no remnants of the furnace which once stood 35 feet tall. I’m not sure exactly where it stood. While we were taking the break under the pavilion, an old gent came pedaling up to us on his bike. He started talking to us about his life, where he was from, where he’d been. The fellow was a veteran, and used to live in the area of New Brunswick NJ, so we had some common ground. He had worked as a sort of welder for many years, and took a job out in Pennsylvania as part of Bethlehem Steel I think it was, because they were impressed with what he could do. He retired from the company, and he and his wife took up biking on these rail trails. He told us that he’s very much enjoyed biking the entire Great Allegheny Passage from Pittsburg all the way to Washington DC, part of which was the C&O Canal, and how beautiful it was. Sadly, his wife got some sort of dementia and divorced him, then moved in with her sister. He seemed sad to say it, but apparently things changed a bit after her mind went. He had a little motor on his bicycle, in case he got stuck out somewhere and wasn’t able to get himself back out. He told us he only ever once had to use it. He talked about some of the trails out there, where he was going, where we were going. It was a nice time chatting with him. His name was Glass, and I think his first name might have been Henry, which was kind of interesting because I knew a Henry Glass in NJ many years ago, but he was a very rough character. I wondered if they might have been related.
Chatting with Mr. Glass
We said goodbye to the man, and made our way on across River Road, and then continued westbound. The next bit went by some fields, moved away from the creek, and came back. When we got to a nice area, we headed down to take a dip in the creek. The previous days were hotter, and this one was only going to be in the seventies. I got in barely, but Jillane wanted to get totally in. It was too cold to really enjoy it, so it ended up just being more frustrating than anything. One cool thing though, was that Jillane found a neat fossil in a rock along the way.
Buena Vista Furnace
Soon after this section we reached the settlement of Dilltown. The town was first settled by Colonel Matthew Dill in 1770, and the first grist mill was constructed in 1773. The abundant springs in the area made it perfect for settlement. The town as originally called Franklin, but was changed to Dilltown in honor of the original family, and James Dill who was a town planner. The area grew with the iron industry first, followed by the coal industry. A flood in 1977 knocked out the railroad, but by then much of the coal industry was all shut down anyway. To the right at the crossing in town was the Dillweed Bed and Breakfast and store. We didn’t make it quite far enough previously to stay here, but we did go in to get snacks and such. There wasn’t much to pick from, which is too bad, because one would think they’d sell more to whoever was coming through. We got some Gatorade and small snacks and then took a break across the street at a little pavilion building.
Historic Wehrum scene
We headed down further along the trail, and we could tell there were people out there who didn’t like it at all. There were signs saying “no stopping or loitering next 1500 feet”. We continued on (without stopping) and got back into better woods. It wasn’t too long before we got to the next crossing of the Blacklick Creek. This was not an original railroad trestle, but a replacement with sort of humps to it. I wondered if these bridges were taken out in ’77. We crossed another replacement bridge just ahead, the Scott Glen Bridge. We then passed through another major cut before we resumed following the downstream Blacklick Creek.
Amerford Bridge; Scott Glenn, Gail Carney Collection
Soon, we passed beneath Rt 56 in a middle of nowhere spot. There apparently used to be an older bridge over the Blacklick just to the west of the current structure. There were some foundations and ruins in the woods parallel to the trail in this area. One might have been a mine tipple. A little bit to the west of this point, there was a side trail to the Buena Vista Furnace, the third and final furnace in the Blacklick Valley. The Buena Vista Furnace was built in 1847 and named for the battle of the same name that had just occurred in the Mexican War. This furnace was only in use until 1856. There is a story that Henry Ford took an interest in the historic furnace and considered having it dismantled and moved. Jillane waited while I walked down to the furnace and back. We then continued along the trail to the west. There were massive former coal mining areas to the right as we walked, with railroad ties as well as some rails in place. We were entering another ghost town area. This one was known as Claghorn. The town was named for the Lackawanna Coal and Coke Company Superintendent Clarence Claghorn. The town was started and abandoned in 1903-04 due to an economic downturn. It was purchased in 1916 by the Vinton Colliery Company who opened up more mine drifts and constructed 84 houses, a 22 room hotel, a combination school/theater, and a company store. It’s streets were lined with wooden sidewalks. At its peak, there were four hundred residents. The mines closed down in 1924, and the homes remained rented until after World War II when they were sold for salvage.
Claghorn high trestle
Just ahead, I noted some bridge piers to the left. This was probably the site of the Claghorn High Bridge, a sort of railroad bridge to workings on the other side of the river.
Claghorn High Trestle site
We continued with a few more remnants here and there, and eventually came to the Claghorn Bridge that carried the highway between the town on either side of the Blacklick. The bridge is made of concrete, and was completed in 1917. It’s a crazy looking thing out there, all deteriorating. I walked out across the bridge for a look, then headed back. Not a lot left to see.
1919 view of Claghorn highway bridge
The railroad crossed the Brush Creek immediately after the Claghorn grade crossing, and we continued on a shelf along the creek heading west.
Claghorn Highway Bridge today
There were a few more ruins in the woods to the right, and there was evidence of former coal mines, in woods and possibly on the power line clearing near here. The next point of interest is a nearly gone town of Heshbon. There are still a few homes here, and I’m not sure the history of it. Probably more coal mining. The trail continued across past the bridge over the creek, and then entered State Game Lands #276. There were no history markers for Heshbon, but there was a sign about how something like five children all drowned in a whirlpool spot of the creek just below the town. There were definitely some interesting rapids and rocks out in the river. The gorge the creek passed through seemed narrower, and we came to a tributary known as Auld’s Run, which had a waterfall on it to the right, and high volume of water. We passed along some nice rock cuts, and there were more mining ruins to the right of us. I walked up slope at one point when I saw a rock cairn, thinking it was something to lead to a mine opening. Sadly, it wasn’t. As we walked, I was counting down the mile markers. When I got to “3”, I knew we’d at least get done with Ghost Town Trail before dark. Unfortunately, finishing three more miles did not get us direct to the hotel. We’d then have to take the route of Hoodlebug Trail to the south. We kept walking, checking out ruins, and reading signs. There was a spot where a trolley line used to cross with a pier in the middle of the Blacklick. There was a dam in the creek, and more foundations. This area was a settlement known as Josephine. The south side of the creek was Palmerton. As we neared the end, there were what appeared to be overturned rail cars in the weeds to the right. We then crossed the Blacklick Creek on a bridge for the last time. There were steep cliffs along it at this point. The sun was starting to go down, and I was just happy to have finished this trail where we could see the entire thing. We passed beneath Old Indiana Road and reached the end of the trail at the intersection with the Hoodlebug Trail. Hoodlebug takes its name from the short line passenger cars, which were also called “Doodlebug” or “Dinkey” elsewhere. The trail is a ten mile branch north from Black Lick to the town of Indiana. Originally, the rail line was the Buffalo, Rochester, and Pittsburg Railroad. It operated east as far along what we were walking as Vintondale, and headed all the way up across New York, as well as west to Pittsburg. This was the main artery for coal to travel north from the Blacklick Valley.
Sunset on our longest day
We took a break at the trail intersection. The Hoodlebug Trail follows a sort of spur of the main route here to the north, but it follows the Black Lick Branch a short distance west. That line becomes just an abandoned grade where the trail turns hard left into a little park in the town of Black Lick. The town, which was settled around 1805, is named for the creek, which is named for the coal outcroppings. A “Lick” is another name for a creek in this area. It was now dark. We followed Burrell Street south, and turned to the right on Park Drive. We continued as far as Blaire Road. The town was dark and quiet, and no one was even looking out windows. Blaire Drive took us up hill and across the Main Street. It then went downhill, turned, and crossed a small creek before climbing again. From the top, it started to level off, and we could see off in the distance to the west. Clouds were starting to roll in from the west. We turned right briefly on Devinney Hollow Road, and then left to continue on Blaire Road. Lightning was visible by this time in the distance. A big storm was coming, and I was just hoping we’d get done before we got hammered by it. When we got to Clare Street, we turned right and headed down to a parking area where the Hoodlebug Trail continued. It went alongside Rt 119 and descended a bit, then passed beneath it through a pedestrian tunnel. On the other side, it climbed again and just followed the edge of the highway gradually up hill to he south. Some of this highway was an old trolley route even before it was a road, but that turned even before the hill section. The Black Lick Branch we had been following used to cross the highway too, and passes through private land on the other side before becoming active for an existing mine area. We had to continue on the Hoodlebug Trail south to where it terminated at the intersection with Cornell Road. When we got to Cornell, we turned to the right, slightly further up hill, and then down near the Blairsville Middle School. We continued downhill from there past some corporate buildings or something, and then turned left on Corporate Campus Drive, which was back up hill again. At the top of the hill, we had a Taco Bell on the left, and a Sheetz on the right. We chose of course to go for Sheetz again. It was only a short distance further to the Days Inn down the road. I think I got a quesadilla. I’d gotten a burrito one of the previous times and it gave me bad heartburn, so I was scared of having one again for a bit. The lightning continued to get closer, but we were able to hurry across Rt 22 and head to the Days Inn before any precipitation came down. This was the only day of the entire trip that I really felt ready to be done, save for maybe the last day. Definitely more so on this day, because on this day, we did 21.5 miles.
DAY 6
I was all ready to go at this point. I was feeling really great that we’d made it as far as Blairsville, or on the outskirts of it anyway. I had wanted to do the waterfront in Blairsville, but that wasn’t as important really. I figured at the start that we wouldn’t make it all the way to Pittsburg, but that we could potentially get close. At this point, it was 15 or so miles to Saltsburg, beyond which is less than 40 miles to the very center of Pittsburg.
The storm forming tornado
I figured we could at the very least have an easy day on the trail, camp out one more night somewhere in the Conemaugh River valley, and then have another easy day to Saltsburg, or wherever we made it. If we were really feeling intrepid, we could get to Saltsburg and then beyond to Slicksville or maybe Delmont. I was getting overly excited with seeing more. When Jillane woke up, she was hurting too badly to go on. Her arms were blistered from sunburn, and her feet were blistered from the shoes. I was angry that she wouldn’t get up, but finally gave in and got the room for a second night. I couldn’t stand to sit still, and plus I needed to find her something for her arms, so I spent much of the day out myself looking around and wandering to stores. I first made my way up side roads with views to the Laurel Highlands. I daydreamed about getting up on them. The Laurel Highlands Trail is a long distance hiking trail near here, and we could reach it in about seventeen miles. I made my way back around to the area with the stores we’d passed the night before, and headed over to the Rite Aid to look for some burn cream. The people there recommended some stuff, and I grabbed it. I also had to pick up some sunscreen, and they recommended I go to the dollar store next door because they’d have it cheaper in travel size, so I did that. From there, I headed back over the highway and to Sheetz and Taco Bell. I love both, so of course I had to have both. I started off with something from Sheetz, I forget what. I think maybe it as a cheeseburger? I just can’t remember for sure. I then went to Taco Bell. This was a really “upscale” Taco Bell, because there was seating and such that was like a regular restaurant. Each seat had a USB plug in for a phone. People would ask how the food was. I was asked before I even had anything. Once I had everything and I stepped outside, another major storm was coming. My phone got an emergency notification automatically. “Hurricane Warning”. It told me to take cover right away. This was serious. Outside, the wind was picking up, and lightning was very visible. I saw a little before with some dark clouds, but it wasn’t apparent it was coming for sure. But then the text message I had just gotten confirmed that there WAS a tornado. I grabbed my stuff, hurried across traffic, and headed back toward the hotel room. It was just starting to drizzle when I got there. The thunder was loud, and the clouds to the north looked like they were darkening and forming toward the ground. When I got back to the room, Jillane came out with me to watch how crazy it was getting. It looked like night pretty quickly, and then ice cubes started falling from the sky. There were some huge pieces, and the news locally showed some as big as golf balls. These were so big that they’d certainly hurt being out in it. As it turned out, I suppose it was a good thing we were not stuck out in a tent for this one! I probably covered several more miles wandering this day.
DAY 7
For our last day, the goal was to make it to Saltsburg. It was a good jump off point, and far enough from the middle of nowhere that I should be able to get an Uber to come and pick us up. This would also mean getting us on another different trail that I’d been wanting to see. It turned out to be far more interesting than I’d ever anticipated it would be. There was far more history than I could all take in at once.
We started walking form the hotel after I’d gotten us our continental breakfast. They were almost out of the batter for waffles, but I managed to get the last one.|
Historic Livermore map
We followed along Rt 22 directly for a bit, until where it crossed over the Black Lick Branch we had been following before. It’s not a trail in this area; it’s still active as a mining spur. My plan had been to follow 22 west for a bit, and then just get on the trail a bit ahead, but it was so insanely sunny and hot that we turned down Indiana Avenue that ran parallel. Once on that, I got down on the tracks right away. Jillane got down a little bit further on. We followed the trails out to near their junction with the main Pennsylvania Railroad line. We left the tracks at Maple Ave where the wye at the junction starts, and turned right. We followed this to Walnut Street, and then went left beneath the active Pennsylvania Railroad, then turned right to go parallel with it on Penn Street. |This was a confusing area too, but the history was interesting. Just east of Blairsville, two active branches of the former Pennsylvania separate from one another. Apparently the rail line went to Pittsburg but did not cross the river there. It ended up being an issue for westbound trains because the city wouldn’t allow for it. Doing so, they felt, would hurt businesses in town by allowing trains to bypass stopping there. The railroad reacted by building the Conemaugh Line to the north, heading west toward Cleveland Ohio another way. Eventually, the line was allowed to bridge the river because Pittsburg realized it’s mistake rerouting traffic. Today, both branches are still active.
Historic Livermore Station
The Conemaugh Line started originally as the West Penn Railroad, with the first section opened in 1854. It wasn’t completed through the Bow Ridge tunnel until a decade later. Pennsylvania Railroad took over and there were reroutes three more times ahead. When the road ended, we crossed the tracks, and there was an abandoned right of way on the north side. I figure that might become the extension to West Penn Trail one day. We walked it beneath the Rt 22 underpass, and further out until the parallel right of way joined with the active tracks. We went a little further to just beyond the Airport Road overpass, where there was an access road up hill to the right, to Newport Road. We turned left on Newport Road, and in a short distance, West Penn Trail started on a driveway on the left side. We took a short break there. The trail passed through woods, and eventually emerged on the old 1907 Pennsylvania Railroad right of way. The trail mostly follows this route. The 1854 alignment co-existed with the Pennsylvania Canal’s Western Division, and so had to avoid it when it was constructed. By 1882, this Pennsylvania Canal section was taken out of service, and it was replaced by a re-alignment of the railroad. Some of the railroad was built directly over the former canal on a gentler route. This line too was replaced in 1907 with the major cut and fill project the trail follows today. If it were not for the Conemaugh Lake creation, it would probably still be the active line today. However, the creation of the lake around 1950 meant rerouting the railroad to higher ground to the south. The trail continued on the driveway and cut to the left to reach the grade. It was an open area with a power line on it. Because there’s a dam out there, there were signs reading that the area was under surveillance. It was kind of open at first because it was on a power line. We headed along the rail bed to the first crossing of the Conemaugh River. The bridge was not an original rail bridge, but a replacement structure of metal. To the north, we could see the confluence of the Conemaugh and the Blacklick Creek. On the far side of the bridge was just about over where Lock 15 was on the Pennsylvania Canal. On the other side, there was the grade crossing with Westinghouse Road, and then an abutment of where the road probably crossed during railroad days. Just past this, there was a stone ruin on the left, and historic markers about how there was a Social Hall at this point. Apparently it was a station stop as well.
Lock #14
From that point, the railroad climbed a good distance uphill originally, only to come back down, then was rerouted in 1882 to more submissively follow the route of the river. The trail route in the 1907 grade passes over those grades, and runs parallel with them. We went through a cut first, and then onto a bit of a fill with wetland all around. To the left, I could see remnants of the Pennsylvania Canal, with either towpath or berm exposed. We soon came upon a historic marker that noted this was the former site of Lock #14. We continued further along the fill, and soon approached the second crossing of the Conemaugh. This was a stone arched viaduct, now over the slack water portion of the Conemaugh River upstream from the dam. We continued along the grade with great views in both directions. It was only a short distance from the second crossing to the third crossing, which might have been concrete. Once on the west side, the earlier railroad grade crossed from the left. I went over and had a look around. It turns out this was a former town and station stop known as Livermore. It was pretty much destroyed for the construction of the Conemaugh Lake. The earlier rail grade crossed over the 1907 one here, and was visible the other direction too. In a very short distance, we crossed the Conemaugh yet again on the fourth bridge. I think this one might have been concrete. I’m not sure. I know it was an arched one. The site of the original railroad bridge just to the north was still visible, with abutments still in place. I think the 1853 and the 1882 grade must have been together at this point. Or close.
1870 view Bow Ridge Tunnel
We passed through another big cut on the 1907 grade, and then emerged to a fifth bridge over the Conemaugh Lake. This one was also an old stone arch bridge, but most of the arch was submerged below the lake. When I saw it, I wondered how well the stone would hold together with the mortar all under water. Apparently it’s alright for now, but the top of it has certainly been flooded over a lot. I’ve seen a lot of photos showing that it floods badly. In fact, one of the previous bridges also had a giant tree on it, meaning the water comes up over the deck of that as well.
Historic Pennsylvania Canal view
Immediately on the other side of the bridge was the mouth of the Bow Mountain Tunnel. There was a giant cage gate over the entrance to it, and it was plugged just a little ways back. If the lake were to flood over, the water would then pass through the tunnel and into the river downstream, so it had to be blocked. It would have been nice if they could have just created a passage that could have been closed and left open for the trail, but I suppose that would take some crazy engineering.
Bow Ridge Aqueduct and tunnel
This of course was not the first tunnel to purge the Bow Ridge. That distinction belongs, surprisingly, to the Pennsylvania Canal. I believe the Pennsylvania Canal’s Bow Mountain Tunnel was completed in 1832, and it was reportedly only the third tunnel in the country to be completed, after the Auburn Tunnel on the Schuykill Navigation, and the Union Canal Tunnel in Lebanon PA. The tunnel apparently still exists, though it is partially submerged, and also plugged because of the damming. After this tunnel, the West Penn Railroad tunnel was completed in 1864. The rest of the line to the east had begun construction, but tunneling was not completed until after the Civil War ended. This served both the original and 1882 alignment. There is a bit of block still visible of the east end of this tunnel, but we couldn’t really see it from where we were, though we knew where it was supposed to be. There was a bit of gate missing off of the 1907 tunnel, so I slipped through and walked back to the filled in bit. It was an awesome view looking back out. We took a little break here, as the trail goes up over top of the tunnel by way of wooden steps and some switchbacks, more like a footpath. A guy came by and acted like he wanted to chat with us some more, but it was sort of an awkward thing, and he eventually moved on. I like talking to strangers, but it seemed like he was waiting for me to say more.
Tunnelton Station
We eventually moved on up the steps, then turned hard right at a switchback. There was a really off-putting sign at the top reading that the next five miles were difficult and not flat, because the trail did not follow a railroad bed for that distance. Jillane seemed quite concerned about it, but I knew it was just slight grades that would affect mountain bikers more than us. We continued to the crest of the Bow Ridge, and the trail turned to the right along the top, and ascended a bit more. Another trail came in from the right, which was a more gradual route to the bottom from the tunnel mouth. We kept straight to the end of the foot trail, and then turned hard left on an access road that went down toward the base again. Just ahead of the turn, there was a view of the Conemaugh dam.
1907 Bow Ridge Tunnel
We headed gradually down the roadway to the bottom, and when we got to a level section, the west portal of the 1864 tunnel was on the left. This was a pretty cool little spot. Somewhere just past this point was the point where the Pennsylvania Canal tunnel came out. I understand there’s a pipe coming out of the hole now. I didn’t notice anything of it though. Just a little bit ahead, we came to the west end of the 1907 tunnel. That one still had double tracks coming out of it at this point. It lined up perfectly with the bridge over the Conemaugh on the other side, now used as a road access, but originally the railroad. The stone arch viaduct took the West Penn Trail out across, and then around to the left. The road and trail together left the 1907 grade and descended on the park road, and soon the Pennsylvania Canal remnant came into view, mowed, on the right. There was a good history marker about it showing the elevations and where all of the locks were, as well as a good map. The trail continued back around and under the bridge we had just crossed. This point is also crossed by the later Conemaugh Line built to avoid the reservoir. The new one uses a large metal bridge from above, and bypasses the Bow Mountain without the use of a tunnel. We continued ahead, and there was a side trail to the right from the access road that led out along the old canal route to the site of the former stone aqueduct. There are reportedly remnants of the bases of this structure but I don’t remember seeing them. There were too many leaves to see much. A sign marked the location. Just a little further ahead, there was another trail to the right. This one followed the original 1864 railroad grade to the point where the bridge carried it to the first Bow Ridge railroad tunnel. Jillane stayed on the road, and I took this mowed path to where I could see across with one of the piers in the middle of the Conemaugh. They’re all still there, but not all visible. There was another historic marker, and to the right would have been about the point that historic photos were taken of the original canal tunnel and aqueduct. I moved around to be sure it was of the same site and took one for a then and now photo, though it won’t look like much of anything when I finally post it! From there, there was a mowed trail that continued the direction I needed to go. I walked it for a bit to the north, and it weaved around before emerging on the road again. Now Jillane was ahead of me. This was really a better way to go for West Penn Trail. We continued ahead and the road turned, but the trail continued into a picnic area for Conemaugh National Recreation Area. We headed over to a restroom area, and to an overlook of the Conemaugh Dam. There was a historic marker for the Social Hall that was in the area, and stuff about Tunnelton. The area was historically known as “Tunnelview” after the canal went in, and at some point changed names to Tunnelton. It was considered to be a big tourist draw, because at the time of original tunnel construction, there had only been two tunnels in America. People didn’t know what one was, and it actually had to be explained. After a short break, the trail continued on a narrow paved pathway past a sort of park headquarters, and then across the access road to the dam. The trail turned hard left and became a crushed stone surface following the road for a bit, then turned hard right into the woods. We weaved around through the woods, and the trail felt more like a regular hiking trail. That kind of thing is a welcome change after a while, being in the big woods and farther away from anything. I also feel like it’s a bit more relaxing for me. When I’m on some historic route, I can’t help but be excited and ask questions, look around much longer and harder than I would otherwise. Natural settings that were never anything more than a trail help me to turn off some of that and focus on more natural, simpler things. The trail soon came out to Auen Road and entered State Game Lands #328. The trail was wider from this point, and looked as though much of it probably followed former woods roads. It turned left and headed along a crest of some land. There was some undulating terrain, but it was never very hard. The height of the land we reached was still below 900 feet above sea level. The highest point had some stone rows and such, and the look of having once been a road. A few people passed us in this stretch, but not many. There were a couple of joggers that went by. The trail descended to reach Tunnelton Road and turned right to parallel it closely for a time. It then crossed and weaved through more woods to start heading down hill. Soon, we came to the Elder’s Run. The stream flowed around a corner in the trail and beneath the active 1950 alignment of the Pennsylvania Railroad. We could hear the trains for a while before getting to this spot. The trail passed under the culvert on a walkway beneath the bridge, a pretty neat little spot. We paused on the other side for a break, and I took a dip in the creek, which felt great.
West Penn Trail
From there, the trail went slightly up hill, around a couple of little ponds, and soon reached the right of way of the 1882 alignment of the Pennsylvania Railroad. In some spots, it was probably also the 1850s alignment, but can’t be completely sure where that was all the time. The Pennsylvania Canal would have crossed Elder’s Run on an aqueduct, but at this point, side trips were out of the question. We had to get to Saltsburg before dark and hopefully get an Uber back. The rail bed was lined heavily in Japanese Knotweed, so seeing off the side of it was not easy. I wanted to see Pennsylvania Canal remnants, which was often possible, but if there was a lock in there somewhere, it’d be nearly impossible to see. As it turns out, there was only one lock in this entire section, and we didn’t miss it. The next point of interest heading along the path was the settlement of White. This was the location of the great Conemaugh Salt Works. Salt mining was a bigger industry than coal earlier on, dating back until the late 1700s, but that shifted when coal became king around 1870 here. The flood control lake upstream had to be located there because at the time, the coal mines here were still too important. White, named for salt mine owners, was later the home to the Watson Mine, which was a very important one. The trail continued parallel with the main road. There was once a station here. It then went through an open area away from where the canal used to be. We passed a marker for the Watson Mine, and then the canal reappeared on the left of us. There was then a historic marker denoting this to be the site of Lock #9. No stone work remains of the lock at all. Earlier on, the stones from these old locks were removed and recycled elsewhere. We continued along the rail grade and canal ahead from here, and I watched the canal shift from the left side to the right, and then back to the left. As we moved on, it appeared that we were walking on the former canal. To the right, there was a slight trench and some riprap rock on the other side. Above that, there was another obvious grade. I correctly assumed what this was even before coming across a historic marker: the original right of way of the West Penn Railroad dating back to 1854. When the railroad was developed, the canal was still in use and important. The railroad had to construct without inhibiting the traffic on the canal, so they built a ramp and a ledge for it on the north side of the canal. Much of the stone work for the original railroad grade is amazingly still in place.
The old rail grade atop a wall along the canal east of Saltsburg
The canal went out of service in this point reportedly in 1864, when the railroad became the through route. In 1882, the railroad was rerouted onto the canal’s right of way. I’d been watching Frank Clement’s posts on the Pennsylvania Canal leading up to this, and have been fascinated by what is there. We went around a bend in the river, and it was a pretty steep face on the right the entire time. I watched the mile markers go by until it was two, then one, and then the end was in sight. We emerged at a gate and continued along Canal Street out to Water Street, beyond which was a little park and the connection between the Westmoreland Heritage Trail and the West Penn Trail. This would be it. It was a fitting place to finish off. Two different trails continue on Pennsylvania Railroad grades, and I found routes to Pittsburg on Both. West Penn and up along the Kiskiminatas River from here would be longer, but probably more scenic. Westmoreland Heritage Trail would get us there quicker. I had to get up in the morning for work, and it was already late, so we couldn’t continue. From here, it was only 32 miles to East Pittsburg, and only 40 to the very center city of Pittsburg where the Allegheny and Ohiopyle Rivers meet to form the Ohio River. We have to make this connection. Our elevation at the end was about 860 feet above sea level. I got to the lot first and immediately got on my phone attempting to get an Uber. The first one I tried was canceled, but second try I got someone pretty quickly. What a relief. Jillane arrived and sat down on the playground, and we waited patiently for a half hour or forty minutes or so. While there, I was close to the road, and the sun was going down. A police officer pulled up to ask what we were doing, and to let us know the park closed at dark. I told him what we’d just done, and he was impressed. He enjoys hiking himself, and we talked about some of the stuff through the area. His name was Hunter, and he hung there with us until the Uber arrived. It turned out the guy had arrived up the street, and was looking for us. I missed his call. Hunter drove off and found the guy looking for us, and then directed him to us. We were soon in the car and headed back. It was over an hour drive back. We had done a total of 94 miles (not counting my Day 6 wandering), and this day was 15.8 miles. Our driver was also into this stuff, and he’d seen a lot. It was cool to discuss things with him, but then we were all quiet for a while. I was pretty tired. When we got back, we got Sheetz one last time. It was after 9:30 pm reaching my car at the hotel. From there, it was another four hours till we’d be home. I think we arrived at 2 or 2:30 am. It was the highest mileage we had done together in a long while, although mostly easy terrain. Hopefully, we’ll get back out and make it to Pittsburg on the next one. From there, it’s equal that distance to the Ohio border. There are a lot of exciting things coming up.\
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