Biking Presque Isle

I think I have visited enough state parks in Pennsylvania to know that Presque Isle State Park is probably my favorite. The park provides for dramatically different experiences in each of the four seasons and includes a variety of different environments: beach, wetland, and forest. It amazes me how the thick, solid ice dunes of February, however, reveal pristine beaches in the summertime.

Just one of the perfect beaches on the unprotected Lake Erie side of Presque Isle, a few months earlier this section of beach was covered in ice dunes

The term Presque Isle is derived from the French term for an “almost” an island. So you find yourself on a peninsula surrounded by Lake Erie. The Presque Isle Multi-Purpose Trail is about 13.5 miles long and takes users on a complete loop of the peninsula: through the harbor protected by the peninsula, through wetlands and wildlife refuge, past beaches getting surprising amounts of surf from the unsheltered waters of Lake Erie, and even some cool, shaded forest. The route is a loop and it is largely level. There are some areas that follow the shoulder of the main road through the park so if you go, note that bike traffic generally moves counter-clockwise but, if you are not up for a solid 13.5 miles, there are plenty of opportunities to take shortcuts and enjoy different aspects of the park.

Our approach was to park in the first lot we found that had space and start from there, with the intention of completing the entire trail, which we did successfully. The ride was awesome, except when we were stuck behind people in rental surreys who could not quite seem to figure out how to operate the vehicles that everyone on board can help pedal. However, it is rare to encounter places in the trail where slower traffic cannot be passed in fairly short order.

Check out Presque Isle State Park and bring your bike, and do so especially if you are trying to find a way to spend more time on a bike or practice biking. Besides, the more you pedal the more you can justify eating all the junk food at the beach concession stands along the way. There may or may not have been a fully loaded foot-long hot dog near the end of my biking day.

For more information on the trail, including a detailed and printable map, I suggest checking out the listing on AllTrails, linked here.

See you on the trail soon!

Riding the Dawkins Line

The Dawkins Line Rail Trail is an 18-mile-long rail trail in Johnson and Magoffin counties in southeastern Kentucky. It is longest rail trail in Kentucky. It is currently a multi-use trail that follows the railroad constructed to support the operations of the Dawkins Lumber Company as the Big Sandy and Kentucky River Railroad in 1912. After changing hands a number of times over the years, 36 miles of track were abandoned by the R.J. Corman Railroad Group in 2004. Two years after abandonment, the Kentucky General Assembly allocated funds to begin converting the right-of-way into a rail trail, with the project moving forward in 2011. Presently, the trail runs 18 miles, but is eventually expected to be extended for the entire 36 miles of abandoned right-of-way.

Aiming to spend more time on my bike and wanting to visit the in-laws in Huntington, West Virginia, my husband and I put the bikes in the back of the truck and decided to challenge the prediction of rain and head down to the Jane Beshear Trail Head near Salyersville, Kentucky. We planned to start here and bike to the Gun Creek Tunnel to sate my husband’s dream to see every single railroad tunnel.

It was cool and the weather was not looking favorable, the skies were quite foreboding as we journeyed down U.S. Route 23 from Catlettsburg, Kentucky to Paintsville, and then over to the trailhead off of U.S. Route 460. The rain was holding out.

We parked at the Jane Beshear Trail Head and thought it looked quite nice. There is plentiful parking. Facilities to help folks get on and off of their horses. There are even bathrooms… which were locked tight. It was a little unnerving to find this nice trailhead entirely abandoned with locked pit toilets. We persevered.

We started heading toward what we thought was the tunnel, but realized in short order that we were moving in the wrong direction. In that mile or so we traveled before realizing we were headed in the wrong direction we enjoyed some light rain, stunning views of working farms, and some areas with aggregate that was really testing my calves. Almost back to where we started, a dog came out of nowhere and was quite menacing. I’m incredibly afraid of most dogs, so I was already feeling a little out of place, and this really upset dog was not helping me feel any more at ease.

Back to where we began. Back to the trailhead. Back to the locked bathrooms. I hated that the bathrooms were locked.

We now found ourselves biking through Royalton. Royalton is little more than a Dollar General, a convenience store, and a lot of Confederate flags. The houses, churches, and ruins abutting the trail heading beyond Royalton are a study in Appalachian poverty. I was both glad to see them trying to develop the rail trail and frustrated that the environment was so bleak and unwelcoming. Despite how bleak the built environment was, the natural beauty of this area was impossible to miss. I am grateful for the experience.

About two miles into our journey the rain stated. However, we believed we could not be that far from the tunnel. We decided to keep going. The grade got steeper (logging railroads always pushed the boundaries in terms of grade). The rain fell harder and harder. In a fit of frustration, soaked to the bone, I started belting out You’ll Never Leave Harlan Alive, my only audience my husband and those resting in the number of country cemeteries we passed.

Legs burning, soaked to the bone, and full of all kinds frustration, we arrived at the Gun Creek Tunnel. The Gun Creek Tunnel is not terribly impressive as railroad tunnels go, but I am certain that when it finally came into view I had never been happier to see a tunnel in my life. My husband and I breezed through the tunnel, felt like we were starting to dry off from the downpour, and felt that we had accomplished something great.

Gun Creek Tunnel Portal

The best part? It was all downhill back to the car! Though shortly after leaving the tunnel, there was a sign that suggested trail users menaced by dogs should call the Magoffin County Sheriff’s Department. Well that’s too little too late, I thought.

The rain stopped as we coasted the miles back to the truck. Mile by mile, we got a little drier and decided we had accomplished something great and discovered a complicated, beautiful, and pained place.

Locked bathrooms and horse facilities at the Jane Beshear Trail Head near Royalton, Kentucky

Opekiska Geocaches

Autumn is my favorite season, despite the fact it ends in winter and winter is my least favorite. Autumn is my favorite because the days are still warm but the nights are cool (consider that even in the dead of winter the ceiling fan swirls above our bed because we are both furnaces) and there is nothing prettier than the Appalachian mountainsides blanketed in hundreds of shades of yellow, orange, and red. Taking advantage of yet another perfect autumn day, Chris and I headed to the Opekiska Lock and Dam trailhead on the Mon Trail South, the rail trail that follows the Monongahela River, to seek out two geocaches.

GC2RCC1 – Paul Bunyan’s Lunch Box

We chose to come to the Opekiska area because of this cache, which at the time of this writing, has 18 favorite points. Once a cache hits about 10 favorite points it really captures my attention. But Opekiska is interesting and unique for a few other reasons: you can get very close to the lock and dam, the road out to the trail is beautiful, and it is less congested and busy than trailheads in more populated areas.

The cache was a few feet off of the rail trail and did require navigating over a small ditch filled with water, but once we located the cache it was clear why it had so many favorite points. The container was not unique, but it was placed within a custom-made host. Given the size of the host (hinted to with the reference to Paul Bunyan in the title) I am still not sure if it was made elsewhere and brought to its location or if a dedicated cache owner came out to the area numerous times to craft the host.

GC1EYNN – lock n lock at the lock

Looking at the map, it seemed as if this cache would be hidden similarly to the previous cache. We were wrong in so many ways. First, while the distance off of the trail was only a little bit further, it involved substantially more vertical terrain. There was also more overhead foliage, which interfered with satellite reception and accuracy of our GPS units.

We spent 30 minutes going up and down the hillside, trying to find the cache. After being on the hillside for six years, the area around the cache had changed somewhat so the hint was less useful than it likely was in 2008. As we were about to throw in the towel, I realized I was standing on a nice, flat rock. I lifted it up and found the cache quietly waiting to be found.

Sore from moving up and down the hillside so much more, it was nice to be back on level ground. When we made it back onto the trail, it looked like there was a twig on Chris’s shirt. But then it seemed like it was moving. I was puzzled. My lack of confidence in what I was seeing led Chris to pull off his hoodie in a hurry. It was a walking stick insect. I had never seen on before. So it truly was a twig that was walking. My eyes weren’t deceiving me. Making these discoveries is just one of the multitude of reasons why walks in nature are so rewarding.

Nittany Dawn and Weekends of Fun

My favorite shift to work on the ambulance at Penn State is the day shift. It often begins like this.

Sunrise on a Monday morning in Happy Valley

The sun rising over Tussey Mountain and shining onto Mount Nittany, as seen from the top of the Eisenhower Parking Deck (conveniently located next to the Student Health Center, where the ambulances live). If that isn’t enough to inspire your day, the Berkey Creamery is a stone’s throw away. While the Creamery is known best for its ice cream, I am very fond of its French vanilla coffee. All of this was accomplished in the first hour of my shift on Monday, which alone made the sting of having to return to State College from a wonderful weekend in Morgantown with Chris just a little more gentle.

The trip back to State College would have been uneventful except for the fact it is that wonderful time of year when the deer become particularly stupid. I don’t understand why anyone needs a gun to hunt, if I weren’t careful I’d have had enough venison to last me for years of tasty stews from what the Cavalier would’ve caught. Though seriously, we don’t joke about that… too much. After striking a deer on I-64 near St. Albans, WV in 2009 at 70mph (in said Cavalier), I can attest that it is a terrifying experience.

The highlight of the day on Sunday was catching up with my college friend, Courtney, at Mountain State Brewing Company in Morgantown. We chose Mountain State Brewing because the food is incredibly delicious but it turns out they play Team Bingo on Sunday afternoons. We had never heard of such a thing but had a great time playing four rounds through wonderful food and conversation. They’re famous for their beer and flatbread pizzas, but I must give a shout out for banana pudding and root beer.

This came on the heels of a Saturday that could’ve been three whole days given the activities accomplished. We hiked four miles on the Mon Trail South (and I cut my left middle finger open, woohoo!), went to the 2^nd birthday party for our friend’s daughter, consumed some of the best BBQ in the world (Two Brothers BBQ in Presto, PA), and did all kinds of shopping on the I-79 corridor between Pittsburgh and Morgantown. I made some excellent finds at the newly expanded Hobbytown USA at Robinson and the Tanger Outlets in Washington, PA.

Magnetic alphabet train cars arranged interestingly at the Robinson Hobbytown

Conquering the Pacific Northwest: Life Along the Mighty Fraser

Leaving Merritt we headed west through the Indian reservations and we took a side road to the location of the Craigmont Mine. My maternal grandfather worked at this mine that appeared to be coming back to life after being shuttered for some years. Also memorializing the mine is a geocache, hidden by a tourism organization intending to highlight the history of British Columbia’s Gold Country. I think it comes as a surprise to many how much mining has contributed to the development of British Columbia, even though it does not hold the same significance to locals as, say, coal mining is significant to West Virginians. I digress.

We continued on to Spence’s Bridge where we met up with the Trans-Canada Highway we left behind the day before near Shushwap Lake. From here we follow the last miles of the Thompson River into Lytton, where we stopped to observe the confluence of the Fraser and Thompson Rivers. Here the clear blue Thompson flows into the slower, muddier Fraser.

The blue water of the Thompson giving into the muddy water of the Fraser River

Beyond Lytton, the Trans-Canada embarks through the treacherous Fraser Canyon, so narrow at points that the highway had to be built in the river that carved out the narrow passage.

Somehow we largely managed to miss the most egregious tourist traps on this journey, but we made an exception at the Hell’s Gate Airtram. Here gondola cars transport tourists from one side of the Fraser to the other in a treacherous narrows defined by deadly rapids that had always been present, but were made worse due to some dynamite-happy railroad builders. A bridge near the bottom of the narrow gorge with an open-grate deck tests the fortitude of the strongest stomachs. No worry, the fudge shop sells plenty of sweets to ease the skittishness.

The Fraser River emerging from Hell's Gate

Only moments down the highway is the equally impressive but far less popular Alexandra Bridge. Here we left my parents at the parking area and Chris and I descended the narrow road, the road pre-dating the Trans-Canada, to the bridge built in 1926 that has sat quietly watching traffic on the bridge that replaced it in 1964.

Imagining travel on the Cariboo Road at Alexandra Road

In Hope we stopped for lunch and we planned our final stop, the Othello Tunnels. Access to the Othello Tunnels is off the new road between Hope and Merritt, the Coquihalla, it’s a modern, four-lane superhighway. For as long as I can remember, I had seen the signs for the tunnels at the exit. Finally, I had the opportunity to see them. Mom, Chris, and I made the short hike to the series of tunnels and bridges navigating the narrow canyon formed by the Coquihalla River. This would be the last time I would see that crystal turquoise water I had seen so much of during the previous few days.

The Othello Tunnels traversing the Coquihalla Canyon

From here, we followed the Lougheed Highway toward Coquitlam and watched as the narrow canyons and harsh rapids that had defined the Fraser River all day gave way to a broad, navigable river lined on both sides by agriculture. This part of the trip was quiet and it was beginning to sink in that the grand, wild road trip was over. We could sleep in tomorrow! Although we planned to stay put, Chris and I did have a surprised lined up. The end of the road trip did not mark the end of the vacation.

Into the Beehive

West Virginia only has sixteen National Historic Landmarks (not to be confused with listings on the National Register of Historic Places). One of these landmarks is the Elkins Coal and Coke Company Historic District, locally referred to as the Bretz Beehive Ovens. The beehive style ovens were thought to be the very last when they ceased operation in 1980. Now they sit silently across from a quiet stretch of the Decker’s Creek Rail Trail near Masontown, West Virginia.

Masontown, despite its proximity to Morgantown, is a fairly isolated community. From Morgantown it is a curvy, windy trip on WV Route 7, wedged between either a cliff or the hillside and Decker’s Creek. From the road, the Decker’s Creek Rail Trail follows the opposite side of the creek. Masontown is appropriately named because just before arriving in town one passes the Greer Limestone Quarry.

The Masontown trailhead for the Decker’s Creek Rail Trail is a few blocks shy of downtown. Unlike a number of the other trailheads, this one is a broad green space suitable for picnicking and sunbathing. As we began to make our way toward the ovens and a geocache we passed a bicyclist and saw all sorts of evidence of life.

What I probably love most about rail trails in particular is the chance, if you look carefully, to see modern ruins. Looking up hillsides and under modern bridges, you’ll find hints of the past. But all trails connect users with the natural world. This is a good thing, and I’ll even be the first to admit a severe smartphone addiction.

An old concrete booth from the trail's past life

Despite it being early March, we never escaped the sounds of other humans. We heard the gears of bicycles whirring, four-wheelers snarling, and tractors popping. It was even comforting as we navigated through the wonders of the environment. But it probably did keep the other animals away. I’m not sure how much of a problem I have with that, this is black bear country.

The beehives were both grand and diminutive. When we arrived they seemed to line the hillside as far as the eye could see, there were 140 of them. But the ovens, or what’s left of them, were squat and covered in weeds. From the trail alone it is impossible to fully grasp the significance. Indeed, it would be an asset to the trail to have a kiosk to offer visits an introduction to their significance.

The remains of the beehive ovens

By the view of the ovens is a collapsing wooden railroad trestle that carried trains off the mainline (now the trail) to collect the coke from the ovens. The temptation is great to cross the creek to get a closer look, but safety must always come first and private property must always be respected. We settled on photographs and hope to access the ovens legally someday.

The old rail access to the ovens

The trip back to the car was a flash, but for our effort, we were hungry and thirsty, so we went into Masontown to satisfy our needs. A few sodas and sandwiches don’t contribute much to the local economy, but if you multiply this number by all or even half of that trailhead’s guests, the trail is paid for.

And in three days, this blog will celebrate a year of sharing stories from the roads, rails, and the land under my feet. Thank you for reading!

Hitting the Mon River Trail

I am an equal-opportunity lover of transportation. The modes that typically come to mind are road, rail, air, and marine, but there are two clear omissions from my point of view: feet and bicycles. In recent years, there has been a pronounced movement to convert abandoned and little-used railroads into trails, Rails to Trails. Former railroads make excellent walking and biking paths because they have gentler changes in elevation than roads intended for automobiles.

The Morgantown, West Virginia area has aggressively developed a number of rail trails through the Mon River Trails Conservancy, yielding a network that is not only great for recreation, but is also a component of the commutes of many and a window into the history of the region.

To celebrate the New Year, Chris and I decided to walk part of the Mon River Trail North to collect two geocaches (Vanvoorhis 94.7 and Silver Celebration) and explore part of the trail system that we had not yet had the opportunity to. Although just a few miles down the Monongahela River is the part of the trail system Chris uses every day to walk from where he parks his car to where his office is.

It was in the 60s and the trail was well-used by all sorts of people: bicyclists, young women walking their dogs, older women going for a walk, and geocachers like us! Even in small cities where people hole up in their homes, this thin strip of land between homes on the hillside and the river was alive with friendly faces of community.

As we made our way to the first cache, we found evidence of the prior use of this land. Some evidence was clear, such as a post indicating a wye. Other evidence was speculation, looking at the characteristics of a bridge over a creek and the grading of land next to the trail. But the hard work of the land and the river is not all in history. Old coal loading facilities are still loading coal onto barges to head toward Pittsburgh on the Monongahela River. If only we could see how this place looked before the trail, when the railroad was an artery in the heart of the region.

Approaching where there once was a wye

Trails offer a lot of benefits to individuals in urban and rural areas. Rail trails are a unique type of trail that yields more than just the benefits of getting outside, but a connection to an area. From there, your imagination is the limit of your enjoyment of the trail.

The Rails to Trails Conservancy has also powered a trail-finding search tool. If you're interested in finding a trail near you, access the tool here.