Walking Wonders (Part II)

Just another photo collection of oddities I saw while strolling.

This is outside a house. I'm assuming it might be some sort of memorial to victims
of explosive diarrhea? 

Trees have adapted against deforestation by growing mines to blow up
unsuspecting lumberjacks.

How do you know you're lost? Maybe it's when you reach a dead-end road ...

Or maybe another dead-end road ...

Or maybe two dead-end roads just a few feet apart.

This is either a rope swing or the world's
worst noose.

"... Gonna have ourselves a time ..."

Right now, a grammar Nazi somewhere is saying, "NEIN, NEIN, NEIN, NEIN!!!"

I don't have a witty comment for this one. I just loved this sign.

There are several beaver dams in the Hollidaysburg area. It makes you wonder
how such small rodents have the ability to construct structures with objects almost
10 times their size and weight.

The likely answer is they're hopped up on Gatorade ...

... and NOS energy drinks.

Bucket List: Great Allegheny Passage and C&O Canal Towpath

Cumberland, Maryland, acts as the connecting point between the Great Allegheny
Passage and the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal Towpath Trail.

Riding rails-to-trails is one of my favorite outdoor pastimes.

The trails in Pennsylvania go through forests and are usually accompanied by a scenic river or mountains. You can witness these views while riding on a path that is mostly flat and is not accessible to motor vehicles (usually), so the trip isn't physically or mentally overbearing. What's not to love?

During a recent trip to Cumberland, Maryland, I experienced love at first sight with two of the larger trails in the region (just don't tell my girlfriend).

Image courtesy of Google Maps / A map of the Great Allegheny
Passage from Pittsburgh to Cumberland, Maryland.

The first is the Great Allegheny Passage, a rail-to-trail that starts in Cumberland and cuts through much of southwestern Pennsylvania until the final destination in downtown Pittsburgh. The entire trip, one-way, is about 150 miles.

The second is the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal Towpath Trail, another rail-to-trail that also starts in Cumberland and coasts along the Potomac River until it ends in Washington, D.C. This trail is about 185 miles long, one-way.

Image courtesy of Google Maps / A map of the Chesapeake &
Ohio Canal Towpath Trail from Cumberland, Maryland, to
Washington, D.C.

Because the two trails meet in Cumberland, riders can travel both of them in one long stretch, a whopping 335 miles. To put that into perspective, a car trip from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia via interstates 70 and 76 is 304 miles by car, according to Google Maps.

The chance of me doing both trails in one trip is quite slim at the moment. I want to start modest and tackle the GAP or the C&O one at a time. Both trails seem great and offer spectacular views, but I'm leaning toward the C&O as my first trip -- the main reason being because it travels parallel with the Potomac River the entire way. I love water, whether it's a lake, river or an ocean. The C&O also has several islands along the way, which makes the trip sound that much more exotic. There is a vast history associated with the C&O, too, so I never pass up a great history field trip.

Image courtesy of Google Maps / This map represents the driving
distance between Pittsburgh and Philadelphia. The trip by car is
about 304 miles via interstates 70 and 76. The combined trail of
the Great Allegheny Passage and the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal
Towpath Trail is about 335 miles by bicycle.

The trip is made a little easier because of campsites every five to seven miles. The sites are free and provide a bathroom, picnic table, grill and drinking water. There are also hotels and stores along the way just in case.

Despite all the amenities, the trip is going to be challenging.

For starters, both trails are 150 miles or more. The most I've ever ridden in one trip is 52 miles, which was on the D&L Trail in Lehigh Gorge State Park. I will give myself some credit, however, because I've ridden all 52 miles in about five to six hours. I've completed the D&L several times, so I'm no stranger to longer rides. In addition, the D&L has no overnight camping locations, so if you plan to ride the whole thing round-trip as I have, you need to do it all in one day. The C&O gives me the comfort of knowing I have a location I can rest at every few miles.

Another problem I've come across is the camping arrangements.

I have a two-person tent, which is a good start, but how do you lug a two-person tent on a bike? The bag I currently keep the tent in is enormous and would never fit on my bike. I would need to stow the tent away in a backpack or a bike saddlebag, the latter which I do not own. As for the former, I received an outer frame backpack from an editor at work, but whether or not the bag is large enough to accommodate the tent I have yet to find out. And this is just the tent -- not including other items like food, water, clothes or anything else necessary for long-distance traveling. Speaking of food, what kind can you take on a bike trip? Anything that requires refrigeration is basically out of the question. All of the food needs to be non-perishable, which leaves me with items like granola, cereal, Pop-Tarts ... basically breakfast. I admit I could live with that.

Finally, there's the time requirement for such a trail.

As I stated before, it took me about six hours to ride 52 miles in a day, which I think is great progress. What that means, however, is if I were to ride that many miles per day, it would take me about four days to travel the C&O Trail -- one-way. I don't have a problem riding for that long, but I do need to return, which would take another four days. I don't have enough vacation time accumulated to make an eight-day bike trip just yet, not to mention I don't think I'd be able to lug around eight days worth of camping materials on my bike. The best solution would be to ride the trail one-way and to take a shuttle from Washington, D.C., back to Cumberland, which I know is an option. That option costs money, however, and I haven't been able to find a rate for shuttle services yet.

Those are just a few issues I need to overcome in the planning phases before attempting to tackle these trails. The more I type, the more I realize how difficult this trip might be.

My plan of starting small by riding only one trail might need to be downsized even more. I'm considering taking a two-day trip just to ride a portion of the trail and get a feel for what I might encounter. I haven't set a single tire on either trail yet, so what may seem like a conquerable feat might prove to be the biggest physical challenge of my life.

I think the planning of the trip is the most important part of successfully completing it. Going into it unprepared can be my greatest failure and make what should be one of the best experiences of my life into a living hell.

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, seeing these trails was love at first sight. But just like love at first sight, I shouldn't just jump into a trip without first getting to know it better. I may find out that I'm not entirely compatible with the trails after just one or two days of riding. I may have to ease myself into riding the trails in their entirety. But that's what love is all about -- putting forth the effort to make things work, no matter how difficult the challenges ahead. I'm willing to make this work.

The Balanced Rock

"Quick, someone get a photo of me riding it like a surfboard!"

One of the weirdest features I've seen in a Pennsylvania state park sits (or should I say "leans") in Trough Creek State Park in Huntingdon County.

The Balanced Rock is a giant boulder that appears to defy physics by teetering precariously over a cliff. It's so massive that it can be seen hundreds of yards away from the road.

It doesn't looked as "balanced" here, but
the Balanced Rock still sticks out with its
white surface among a sea of green below.

Despite the name, the Balanced Rock is only an optical illusion, though it has performed a sort of "balancing act" for years.

The rock is a geological feature known as an "erosion remnant," according to a 1969 document written by geologist John P. Wilshusen of the Pennsylvania Geological Society. The Balanced Rock seen today started to form millions of years ago when Trough Creek began cutting into the valley below, Wilshusen wrote.

Wilshusen's explanation gets a bit confusing from there, but an illustration of how the rock formed provides better insight. 

The rock was one of several blocks that made up the ridge it now sits upon. A mix of erosion and "undercutting" from Trough Creek caused the rock to break away from the cliff above. Gravity kicked in, and the rock began to slide downward at an angle. It eventually came to a rest, but erosion never did. Most of the cliff above and around the broken rock eroded over time. Some of the cliff below it also eroded, but most of it remains today. 

Photo illustration courtesy of the Department of
Conservation and Natural Resources / This illustration
demonstrates how the Balanced Rock was formed. The
block with the dotted line shows the rock as it appears
today. The block with the curved arrow coming from it
is the Balanced Rock as it was originally. Note how the
rock broke from the cliff above, which does not exist
today because of erosion.

The finished product is a rock that appears ready to crush an unsuspecting group of hikers at any moment. Although flimsy-looking, the rock is quite sturdy. I can guarantee you many people (maybe myself included) pushed on the rock in an attempt to cause a catastrophe. Rest assured, the Balanced Rock is quite stuck, and it's going to take more erosion to cause it to budge.

Surprisingly, the biggest threat hasn't been gravity or erosion, but graffiti. Several people who have ventured to the overlook have carved or painted their names, initials or other messages onto the rock. I'm not sure if there's any form of prosecution if someone is caught in the act, but I wouldn't advise anyone to do so -- not just because it might be illegal, but it's desecrating something that took millions of years to form. One thing the graffiti does show, however, is how popular the rock is. 

The Balanced Rock is also easy to get to. It is labeled on the park map, and there is a designated trail to reach the overlook where the rock sits. It is also easily accessible because of wide stone stairs installed in the path. Just about anyone of any age can make it to the top without major problems.

If you decide to venture out to Trough Creek, make a stop at the rock. If it's the only thing you do the whole trip, it will be well worth the visit.

Graffiti is visible on most of the rock. It's a shame something that
took millions of years to form is treated like a boxcar.

These are what the stone steps look like on the trails leading up
to the Balanced Rock. They're probably some of the sturdiest
stone steps I've seen on any trail.

Don't always take a stick for granted

I rode the entire Lower Trail from Hollidaysburg to Alfarata today.

As far as sights were concerned, it was the norm -- lots of trees, water and birds. That's about all I see every time I ride this trail.

In the last quarter mile of the trip, however, I was more focused on making it back to the car without my legs buckling or my back giving out.

That's when I noticed a black stick lying both on the trail and in the grass.

"Weird," I thought. "Sticks don't tend to be that dark."

That's when I remembered the last time I saw a "black stick" like that. It was at Trough Creek State Park, and it looked something like this:

Who knew sticks could be so terrifying.

I realized it was a 4-foot-long black snake.

I'm not sure of the exact name, but I'm assuming it's a black snake, or "one of those things from your nightmares."

This is only the second time I've ever encountered one of these without the security of a glass case between it and me. When I crossed paths with the one at Trough Creek, however, it seemed passive. As long as I kept my distance, it didn't move much. I figured I'd have similar luck with this one.

What I failed to recognize was the Schwinn bicycle is the natural predator of the black snake. When I got within feet of it, the snake lunged up and twisted in midair in an attempt to make a 180-degree turn to get out of the way. But when a snake gets airborne, I take it as a sign of "It's time to die."

I swerved a bit, thankfully in the opposite direction, and the snake slithered off.

Both of us came out of the ordeal unharmed, and I learned two valuable lessons from the experience.

1. Don't always take a stick for granted.
2. Bike shorts are very absorbent, in respect to urine.

Muggy Monday

I decided to go for a walk Monday evening because, despite the weather forecasts, it turned out to be nice WITH NO RAIN AT ALL. 

Granted, it was muggy and a bit hot, but that is how a summer evening should feel. 

I was almost done with my walk when I started crossing the bridge from Loop Road into Hollidaysburg. The view provided an opportune sunset. 

It wasn't one of the best I've seen, but the amount of moisture in the air made everything hazy, which created a great silhouette of the Hollidaysburg skyline. The abundance of open sky made it even better. Since my hometown of Mountain Top is nothing but trees, there isn't much sky to see.

I took a minute or two to take in the sight. Because of my obsession of always having a camera, I'm glad you can, too.

Pennsylvania State Parks

Visitors to Trough Creek State Park can get picturesque views from some of the overlooks.

One similarity I’ve noticed between the central/western part of Pennsylvania and northeast Pa. is the abundance of state parks. My hometown of Mountain Top was in close range to three of them – all part of a “complex.” 

The three – Hickory Run, Lehigh Gorge and Nescopeck – are all entertaining for different reasons. Hickory Run, the most developed of the three, has a sand beach, a campground, hiking trails and Boulder Field, which if you didn’t guess, is a field of boulders.

Lehigh Gorge is well-known for the D&L Rail-Trail, a hiking/biking/walking trail starting in Mountain Top and ending in Jim Thorpe, which if you didn’t guess, is a town named after Jim Thorpe, the Native American Olympian.

The Lehigh Gorge State Park is known for the D&L Rail-Trail, which spans from Mountain Top to Jim Thorpe along the Lehigh River.

Jim Thorpe has become a tourist destination over the years for cyclists, kayakers and white water rafters.

This memorial marks the burial site of Olympian Jim Thorpe near the borough that shares his name.

Lehigh Gorge is well-known for the D&L Rail-Trail, a hiking/biking/walking trail starting in Mountain Top and ending in Jim Thorpe, which if you didn’t guess, is a borough named after Jim Thorpe, the Native American Olympian.

Last is Nescopeck, which, out the three parks in the complex, is still in its infancy. The park was renovated a few years ago with an office that hosts children’s programs. A few trails surround the park, including one that goes around Lake Francis. The lake is a popular spot for fishing when trout season begins. The park considered campsites at one point, but the idea never took off, mainly due to a luck of funding.

Many people fish and walk around Lake Francis in Nescopeck State Park.

State parks are numerous in Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania has 120 of them, which is an incredible number to me. To put that into comparison, only four other states have more state parks than Pennsylvania: Washington (188), Oregon (154), Florida (127) and California (126). Alaska, the largest state in the U.S. in terms of land mass, has only four state parks. The second biggest state, Texas, has 55. 

For accuracy purposes, www.stateparks.com lists 119 state parks, while DCNR lists 120. I’m not sure what the one discrepancy is. The 120th park could be a wildlife conservancy, which stateparks.com might not acknowledge as a “state park.” Regardless, Pennsylvania is still No. 5 for state parks in the U.S., and that’s something we as Pennsylvanians should be quite proud of.  

It wasn’t until recently that I discovered the number, and my first thought was having this many parks is overkill. My second thought was Pennsylvania needed something since, other than the few major cities, there isn’t much else in-between. The biggest city in the southwest part of the state is Pittsburgh. Philadelphia “is” the southeast. People who live 45 minutes away from Philly still consider themselves “Philadelphians.” The northeast belongs to Scranton, which is a great misfortune and an overstatement. The final corner, the northwest, is the Lake Erie region, and upon a recent visit to Erie, I found it’s not all that much bigger than Scranton in most respects.

Point State Park is located near the heart of Pittsburgh and marks the meeting point between the city's three rivers: The Allegheny, Monongahela and the Ohio.

Erie is like Scranton with the added benefit that it's on the gorgeous Lake Erie.

Between these four cities is a ton of space. Most of it is just winding highways, back roads and farming country. An outpost will pop up once in a while. Hershey and Lancaster are two good examples in Dutch country. The central part of Pennsylvania has State College, which on football weekends becomes one of the most populated areas in the state. Former industrial cities such as Wilkes-Barre, Hazleton, Altoona and Johnstown are all small “metropolises” dotting the landscape.

Penn State's Old Main is the most iconic building on campus and near State College.

Wilkes-Barre has grown over the years despite being in the center of the nearly defunct coal country.

Once you get outside of all these urban areas, however, Pennsylvania is mostly woods. This is where state parks add a sense of history, culture and “civilization” to these remote areas.

Pennsylvania state parks are special for a few reasons. For one, they’re free of admission. I was shocked when I looked into the possibility of camping at a state park in Maryland to find that it charges a few bucks before you even set foot in the place. The same applies to Delaware state parks. Pennsylvania state parks are my go-to destination when I need to do something cheap for the day. I’ve spent many days hiking, biking and fishing in our state parks with the only expenditure being gas for my car.

Pennsylvania’s state parks offer a variety of activities that are not limited to fishing, hiking, skiing, horseback riding, camping, kayaking, canoeing, boating, swimming, stargazing and sightseeing.

Blue Knob is just one example of the several state parks that offer miles of hiking trails.

Some of them have historical significance, such as the limestone trade of Canoe Creek outside of Hollidaysburg, the lumber/shipping/coal-mining industry of Lehigh Gorge and the maritime history of Presque Isle in Erie. Others just have oddities that attract attention like the Balanced Rock in Trough Creek State Park near Raystown Lake, Boulder Field in Hickory Run or the freshwater lighthouses of Presque Isle. Despite what most people think, state parks aren’t just a bunch of trees and dirt.

The limestone kilns are one of the biggest attractions at Canoe Creek State Park.

The Balanced Rock is just one of a few oddities at Trough Creek State Park.

Presque Isle State Park has beaches, Lake Erie and lighthouses.

In my office, taped to a wall, is a map of the state parks in Pennsylvania. Circled in black ink are the ones I’ve visited to some extent. It looks as though I’ve covered some ground until I count the circles – seven. Seven out of 120 is only about 6 percent of the state parks in Pennsylvania. I’ve got a lot of work to do. 

It’s unlikely I’ll ever visit every single one in my lifetime, but I like to think it’s possible. The biggest challenge in my way is distance. The parks, much like the major cities, are close in some cases but far apart in others. Trough Creek, which I visited last month, is one of the closer parks to Altoona – at 45 minutes driving distance. Presque Isle State Park, which Cassidy and I visited at the end of August, was almost a drive to the beach at four hours.

As you can see, I’m going to need some vacation time along the way. It’s a challenge, but it’s one that is filled with wonders, oddities and beauty. I can live in Pa. for the rest of my life and never see everything it has to offer. As of right now, I still have 113 reasons to go out and explore.

Canal Basin Park / The Pennsylvania Main Line Canal

Visitors to Canal Basin Park in Hollidaysburg can see a replica of a Pennsylvania Main Line Canal lock.

Children climb and slide on playground equipment shaped like barges and ferries. Mothers chat with one another while sitting on benches and under trees as their kids play. On a nearby wooden bridge, a toddler stares through the supports at a small creek bustling below. Boys ride their bikes on gravel paths dotted with plaques.

This is a typical summer day at Canal Basin Park in Hollidaysburg. The park itself is just a little more than a decade old. Much of the playground equipment still looks as new as the day it arrived. A nearby amphitheater is furnished with a smooth concrete stage and a stone brick foundation. The Reiser House, which acts as a visitor’s center,

hasn’t aged much with sparkling windows, red bricks and clean tan siding.

Canal Basin Park has boat-themed playground equipment to recognize Hollidaysburg's history during the time of the Pennsylvania Main Line Canal.

The amphitheater is used for concerts during the summertime at Canal Basin Park.

The Reiser House acts as Canal Basin Park's visitor center.

It’s hard to believe how this little piece of land, now reserved for child recreation, was once one of the most significant points for travel and transportation in the state of Pennsylvania.

As I had mentioned in my previous post about Hollidaysburg, there wasn’t much going on in the borough when it was founded. The National Park Service puts it bluntly:

“Hollidaysburg was a small backwoods village in the early 1820s. Founded in the years after the Revolution, the settlement's growth was hampered by its location in the rugged remoteness of the Allegheny foothills. The Huntingdon, Cambria, and Indiana Turnpike, a narrow dirt road really, ran through the heart of town, bringing an occasional pack train of horses or a Conestoga wagon. Its population in 1827 was about 76.” -http://www.nps.gov/alpo/historyculture/hburgbasin.htm

The Park Service gets the point across. Hollidaysburg wasn’t exactly a booming metropolis. However, for about a 20-year period, Hollidaysburg was the bees’ knees, and it was all thanks to a marvel known as the Pennsylvania Main Line Canal.

The canal is an engineering feat to this day, which is why Blair County has made the effort to capitalize on the former's significance. It ran from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh, making it the first direct link between the two major cities. This was huge, considering a trip between the two cities today by automobile is anywhere between 300 to 350 miles and 4.5 to 5.5 hours. I'm guessing a trip by horse had to be a hell of a commute.

This map from the National Park Service shows the Pennsylvania Main Line Canal and the Allegheny Portage Railroad when they were fully operational.

What’s even more incredible is the canal was dug by hand through clay and rock. Working conditions during the construction of the canal were wretched. There were no backhoes, bulldozers or cranes in those days, and the workers didn't have the aid of an alien race like the Egyptians did with the pyramids (citation needed). The workers had donkeys at best. Injury, disease and death were all common. Workers got paid 48 cents a day, according to the National Park Service. If a worker was injured, he was fired. The blame was placed on the injured person for "carelessness," according to the NPS.

How the canal system worked gets a little confusing. There are signs and plaques all over the region with historical tidbits. Each seems to mention another railroad, canal, passage, basin until the point where we wonder if the historians even know what they’re talking about. A map here or there would do great justice, but apparently this would’ve been too convenient. I think I’ve nailed out the basics, though, and that’s all you really need to understand to appreciate what I’m yammering on about.

Back in the 1800s, people wanted stuff. They also wanted stuff quick. The problem was people couldn’t get stuff quick, so they couldn’t satisfy their desire to want stuff. Therefore, if people wanted to end their desire to want stuff quick when they couldn’t get stuff quick since there was no way to get stuff quick, they needed to find a way to get stuff quick. Simple enough to understand, I’m sure.

You have to remember that this was a time before major highways, planes, or tractor-trailers existed to transport goods in an efficient manner. Pennsylvania is also a geographically long state. I mean really long, as in “You need at least 11 bathroom breaks and four meals” long -- in present day Pennsylvania. So as you can see, our ancestors had a predicament.

Anyway, a group of people got together and started brainstorming ideas. Now, the typical result of a brainstorming session is to knock out the not-so-great ideas and to be left with the best solution. Instead, someone stood up and said: “You know what? We should dig a giant river from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh!” I’d like to know how bad the other ideas were that everyone in the room said “why not” to the concept of one of the most back-breaking, laborious tasks in Pennsylvania’s history.

Construction began for the man-made river from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh somewhere in the mid- to late-1820s. According to the National Park Service, there weren’t really blueprints involved. The logic at the time, and I can’t even make this up, was, “Let’s start digging at each end and try to meet up somewhere.” The Philadelphia side cheated a bit by starting with a railroad on its part of the canal before actually digging.

To give the people who started this endeavor credit, the project was only a few miles from completion before the big problem arose. Both sides dug until they reached the two yellow dots connected by the black sliver on the map above. Those two dots are present-day Johnstown and Hollidaysburg, and between these two sits a series of “small hills” known as the Allegheny Ridge. 

The canal workers had enough crap on their plates. Now they had a mountain ridge to contend with. How to get past the mountains was the biggest setback in the construction of the canal. Although a ton of planning wasn't used at this point, this was the time where a solid idea was needed.

The original plan at the time was to dig a four-mile tunnel through the mountains. I’m assuming this idea came from the same guy who came up with the canal idea. This time around, however, the rest of the party realized he was a bit off his clock.

The second-best idea, and the one that stuck, was to build a railroad going over the mountains that would connect the canal at Johnstown and Hollidaysburg. This required a lot of work, but it was much better than digging with shovels through pure rock. 

This would become the Allegheny Portage Railroad, which was the first passage to successfully traverse the ridge. A national park historic site exists where Incline No. 6 of the railroad remains today.

The Allegheny Portage Railroad National Historic Site has a replica of the railroad's Engine House 6.

This wasn’t as crazy as the “burrow through the mountains” idea, but we have to remember that these guys were building a canal, not a railroad. How would this work out in the end?

For the first few years the canal operated, people and goods were unloaded from boats in the canal at the Johnstown and Hollidaysburg ports, put onto trains and sent up the railroad until they were reloaded back onto boats and finished the trip. One man made the process even more efficient by building canal boats that could be loaded onto train cars and sent back and forth. This was serious ingenuity for the time period.

This graphic from the National Park Service shows one of the canal boats being pulled up an incline into an engine house on the Allegheny Portage Railroad.

But before any of this started, there was still the issue of the locations of the canal basins. Johnstown was considered suitable on the western end long beforehand because of the adequate supply of water, courtesy of Stoney Creek and the Little Conemaugh, according to the NPS. On the east side, the builders originally considered Hollidaysburg’s neighbor, Frankstown. The problem was the proposed location sat on a farmer’s land. To the misfortune of the builders, the farmer, as the NPS so nicely puts it, “either didn't like the idea of change or was a little too greedy to accept the price he was offered for his land.”

After getting this far, the builders weren’t going to let a lone farmer hinder their progress. They decided on Hollidaysburg instead, since the local Juniata River had three connecting branches that would supply the canal with enough water. Three canal basins in Hollidaysburg came out of the project, including the Canal Basin Park location, each serving the purpose of loading/unloading people and goods from the Philadelphia side of the canal to the Pittsburgh side and vice versa, according to the NPS.

The joint project of the Pennsylvania Canal and the Allegheny Portage Railroad wrapped up somewhere between 1832-34 (the accounts on the completion are conflicting). The canal would bring prosperity to Hollidaysburg that it hadn’t known before – for a short period of time, anyway.

It took only 20 years before the canal was considered obsolete. Its demise began when the Pennsylvania Railroad decided to buy it out. Instead of utilizing the canal, the Railroad left it there to rot. The Allegheny Portage Railroad was dismantled and likely used for scrap for larger railroad endeavors elsewhere, according to the NPS.

Regular flooding along the Juniata River has destroyed much of the infrastructure along the local portions of the canal. Repairs would have been too expensive for something that was considered pointless now, so it was left a broken mess. Parts of the canal were even filled with cinders to reduce water flow, according to the NPS. This, more or less, marked the demise of the Pennsylvania Main Line Canal and the Allegheny Portage Railroad.

Many of the people who go to Canal Basin Park probably don’t take the time to look at the numerous plaques and signs about the history of the basin and its importance. That's a saddening thought, but it’s nice to know this location became a park because it probably would have faded into oblivion otherwise.

A couple thousand people took advantage of the canal and railroad during its operation, but even that number doesn’t compare to how many people live in the state of Pennsylvania now, or how many people use highways like Interstates 80, 81, 95 and 99 on a yearly basis.

I would kill to have been one of the few thousand who saw the Pennsylvania Canal in action. 

I realize it takes long enough to travel through the state by car alone, but the idea of riding a canal and railroad across the state is majestic. The best I can do is visit the various sites still in existence and reflect on what someone, who was standing in the same spot as me, saw almost 180 years before. Not everyone appreciated it back then, I’m sure, but I bet at least a couple of those few thousand were in just as much awe as I am today.