May 30-June 2, Hill’s Creek State Park, Pennsylania (Wellsboro)
Left Twin Bridge early Memorial Day. Last night there was an insipid “gospel bluegrass concert” at the camp which was really just a guy singing modern religious songs to a karaoke tape. Introducing a song he said, “You know, tomorrow is Memorial Day, and we often forget the sacrifice of our soldiers.” Seems to me like every day is Armed Forces Day.
Drove three hours to Wellsboro, PA over back roads, up mountain and down. The truck revved pretty high getting up one stretch but overall has been running cool.
Mennonites have been a constant presence since we entered PA. I don’t think I’ve seen anything but Mennonite and United Methodist churches. Twice we have been walking on country roads and waved to families of Mennonites driving by in their minivans—role reversal.
Hill’s Creek State Park is built around one of PA’s man-made lakes. Very nice place—good trailer sites by the lake, great bathhouses. I guess one becomes a connoisseur of trailer facilities after a time. We drove to the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania in Leonard Harrison State Park. More impressive than you might think, altho I haven’t seen the Grand Canyon. 1,800 feet deep, 4,000 feet across.
In the 1800s every tree in this region was felled and sent downriver ( Pine Creek to the West Branch of the Susquehanna)—white pine for ships’ masts and hemlock bark for tanning leather. At one time this area had the largest tannery operations in the world. There are late 18th c. pictures of these hills completely devoid of vegetation as far as the camera could see
We are at about 1,400 feet elevation. The forests here have shifted to evergreens, and the understory is ferns and solomonseal (at least I think it is solomonseal; Brenda thinks it is something else.) Brenda spotted a wild red columbine yesterday. In the early morning the edges of the lake are churning with fish, white and common carp mating in the shallows. We had seen this once before in a creek near our house in late spring; they almost turned our canoe over with their carrying-on. Here, in the morning, they are thrashing around in the watersprite and lilypads exchanging pleasantries–carp seizing the day (ha! a Latin joke).
My pocket knife has entered the contest for most valuable tool. My fingernails are chronically dirty, what with setting up and breaking camp, starting cook fires, etc. What this park needs is a good manicurist. And a liquor store.