[You can click on any picture here to make it bigger. Also, there's a link to a photo album of 90 some pictures at the end of this post.]

I had a really fun travel day yesterday [actually, the 10th]! I was going from Wheeling, WV to central PA, the land of my forefathers.

I bade farewell to Rati and Dwija, hopped in my stupid little car and grabbed the National Road out of town. National Road is basically US Route 40 (in this area), but there are some “abandoned” sections of it that are well-marked.

Along the way, they’ve replaced the old National Road mile markers. I thought that was a pretty darn cool idea, actually. And they were pretty faithful too. Years ago, National Road had these things every mile. But entropy prevails and there aren’t many left. So redoing them was a cool idea.

Well, at least I thought it was.

I found my way to something called the “S” Bridge. It’s a really cool stone bridge, but it has an “S” curve (sort of) in it.

See? Pretty nifty.

It was also here that I found that the mile markers are a bit less than what I had hoped for…

I was bummed.

But I tramped on nonetheless.

Oh I did. I traveled National Road till Washington, PA and then grabbed the interstate to US 119 and that to US 30 – the Lincoln Highway.

One of the first things I came across on Lincoln Highway was the Flight 93 Memorial. Flight 93 was the plane that went down in PA on 9/11. All around this memorial, folks have placed hats, religious trinkets and flags. Also, there’s a lot of “we’re gonna git them!” rhetoric. Revenge for everyone!

At any rate, it wasn’t really a somber place. It was mostly angry. Kind of a shame.

And on I had to go. More Lincoln Highway for me! Lincoln Highway in western Pennsylvania has a bunch of hills. Most of them have big warning signs for trucks imploring them to not kill everybody in the world. One particular hill sparked my interest. Lookout Point – with an elevation of 2464 feet.

Check it out. Something used to be here! So I did a little research and came up with this…

Oh Some!
You can read more about it here. Neat place, eh?

Like National Road, Lincoln Highway also has abandoned sections. Down one of them is an old log church and a cemetery.

If I would have stayed on US 30 or just would have taken the interstate, I would have missed this. Actually, I would have missed pretty much everything I saw yesterday.

And speaking of getting off the interstate… how about getting off the interstate to see the interstate?

Sometime in the late 60’s, Pennsylvania by-passed about 13 miles and three tunnels of interstate. Now, if you travel down an old dirt road, you can get to most of it. Most of it is open to public use. Mostly, they’ve made it a bike trail. “Pike-to-Bike.”

I rambled around and finally came across the Sidling Hill tunnel.

I like some graffiti. Especially stencils. I found two that made me happy…

I could access the abandoned interstate in three locations. You can check out the photo album for more fun shots. Including a weird storage building that was all caved in. It housed blue metal tiles that made no sense to me at all.

After the tunnel fun, I moseyed my way to Gettysburg. A lot has changed since I was there last summer. But I bet most people wouldn’t notice.

I visited my typical haunts – Sach’s Covered Bridge and Little Round top. But I didn’t stay too long. It was getting dark and chilly.

I did manage a visit to Devil’s Den…

And the adjacent Valley of Death…

Before leaving, I drove by the new Visitor’s Center. It opens next month.

I approve. I like it quite a lot, actually.

And that was my day. I did about 350 miles. It took me nearly 12 hours, but it was pretty fun. I’m not really used to traveling alone, but I guess i better get used to it. I need to be a bit more outgoing and chatty with people. Not that I saw a lot of folks today, but still, I know that I do.

For those who will be following me on my Scoot 66 trip, this is probably how the format will be/look/etc. If you have any suggestions to make your stay more enjoyable, please let me know. Ok? Ok!

[Click here to see all of the pics I took! ]

[We traveled this on Wednesday, March 12. Click on the pics to make them larger. Also, there are more pics in the photo album here.]

I get bored here in Pennsylvania. But that doesn’t mean that there’s nothing to do, right? Oh right! In PA, we’ve got a lot of history. Let’s see some.

One thing I’ve always wanted to do was take US 6 across Pennsylvania. And while there definitely isn’t time to do that all in one day, I did get a bit of it under my belt.

I was at Cherry Alley Cafe, eating my regular tofu wrap when I got pretty bored. John stopped by and we talked about Seattle and then nobody was around. So I got online and saw that Smartz was on and we decided to do a little road trip. I picked Route 6 and we headed up I-80 and then I-81 to Scranton. We grabbed 6 and headed west.

Around Scranton, there isn’t much all that interesting. Yeah, there are a few old alignments that I didn’t follow, but sort of wish I would have. See, on really famous roads like Route 66 or National Road or Lincoln Highway, many of the older, abandoned alignments that I love so much are well-researched and well-marked. Not true on Route 6. However, there ARE a lot of old alignments – I just didn’t hit any of them (well, one of them – more on that later).

I’m sort of a sucker for historical markers and scenic overlooks. Often, they’re both together! Warrior’s Path Scenic Overlook (my name) was one such place. It afforded an ok view of the Susquehanna River (having lived near it my whole life, it’s not all that impressive) and a really nifty house. Check it out.

A bit farther down the road, we passed a sign for Camptown. Camptown! You can hardly hear the word without the song “Camptown Races” running through your head. Well, at least I can’t.

De Camptown ladies sing dis song — Doo-dah! doo-dah!
De Camptown racetrack five miles long — Oh! doo-dah day!

Gwine to run all night! Gwine to run all day!
I’ll bet my money on de bob-tail nag — Somebody bet on de bay!

Now, seeming racism (Foster was anti-racist and urged his performers in black face to make the audience feel compassion for slaves) and not-quite-veganism aside, this is a fun song. Camptown Races is about a horse race from Camptown to Merryall (both in PA) – five miles. It was written by Stephen Foster who grew up in Lawrenceville, PA (now part of Pittsburgh) and lived in towanda (along what was to become Route 6) when he wrote “Camptown Races” (actually, it’s called “Gwine to Run All Night!”).

But did we stop in Camptown? Nope. Why? Well, I didn’t know about this connection until we were a few towns over.

However, along the way, I passed this funky looking rest area. After turning around, it turned out to be an old overlook. It peered over a flat valley called Azilum. Azilum was an intentional community started by French royalty booted out of France during the French Revolution. A house was even built for Marie Antoinette on the off-chance that she wouldn’t be beheaded. Oh, that didn’t work out so well for her. Azilum lasted a few years and then the residents left and founded other towns in the area.

As far as this scenic overlook went, I believe that Route 6 used to be between the road house, cabins, possible service station and the two weird little stone gazebo looking things. I could be wrong, but it’s a hunch. I didn’t get a picture of the road house, but here are the cabins and what could be an old service station…

After passing through towanda, we breezed by a tiny town called Luthurs Mills. Shortly after those several houses, there was a sign pointing to a covered bridge. We went back a winding road that looked suspiciously like an old alignment of a well-traveled route (it could have once been Route 6) and came by a very well restored covered bridge. Pennsylvania has 200 or so covered bridges that are still in commission, this was one of the best I’ve ever seen.

I pulled over to take a picture of it, snapped one and got back in the car. I said “Ok, I think we should cross it.” Smartz, suffering from a sass-attack, sarcastically spat out “Oh, I can’t wait!”

Be nice to me and my weird thing for covered bridges!

After nearly 80 miles on US Route 6, when we came upon troy, a largish town with a few funny signs.

I love signs. Signs tell quite a lot about a the folks who made the sign. Above, the folks are clearly very corny. It reminded me of a sign that Chris from the Natural Food & Garden Store in Lewisburg would put up (right now he’s got “Gravity – It’s not just a good idea… it’s the law!”) But one of my favorite signs on this trip was the small white sign posted right before crossing a bridge. It read simply: Bridge. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

And with “Bridge” we bade farewell to the Grand Army of the Republic Highway (US Route 6), turned onto PA 14, a venerable route in its own right, and wandered our way to PA 154, which winding us to Shunk, a town with a very cool name. Shunk wasn’t much of anything, but it had a charm to it. Why folks settled here, I have no idea, but it still has a working general store/post office. I love those things. I love you, Shunk!

PA 154 led us to Forksville, home of the Forksville Folk Festival and another great covered bridge. Also, another general store. Most towns in northern Pennsylvania have such things. Many have become tourist stops, but most still stock everyday use items. Sort of like a country convenience store.

From Forksville, we hopped on US 220 and then on PA 42 to Bloomsburg to drop off Smartz, just a bit before 8pm. A fun little trip of about 250 miles. Most of it, the nonInterstate bits, were relaxing. Just like the sign above the General Store in Forksville:

[Click here to see more pics!]

Since I’m here in Central PA, I wanted to do some traveling. So I am. And on thursday, Smartz and I headed to State College for Indian food. Ok, the food wasn’t so great. Onions. And dairy everywhere else. So whatever.

We scrammed from State College and headed east on PA Route 45. A couple of tunnels and a ghost town awaited us. Along the way, I caught a glimpse of the “Round Barn.” For some reason, I always miss this. Nothing is really all that special about the “Round Barn,” but that’s ok.

Smartz said that there are many round barns in this area. I asked where, since I had never seen any. She said that there is one east of Montandon on Route 45. However, I reminded her that it’s not a barn, but a school house. And it’s octagonal.

Along 45, there’s a town called Sping Mills. It’s a pretty large town, but I’ve never been to it. It’s an ok place. I wanted to check out this seemingly huge house, but it turned out to be not so big and kind of unimpressive. So I took a picture of the weird purple house. Pretty funky. A bunch of houses around this area are weirdly painted.

Of the two tunnels, we had to hit the eastern-most one first. How it’s laid out is this: a railroad line ran from Lewisburg in the east to State College in the west. Near the middle, they had to build two tunnels. One, the eastern-most one was built near Poe Paddy, a logging camp. On the western side, they built one near the town of Coburn. Between the two tunnels grew the town of Ingleby.

Getting to the Poe Paddy tunnel isn’t very easy. You have to traverse 11 or so miles of dirt road, climb up and then down a mountain. Finally, up a valley, past Poe Valley State Park (home of the Deep Low Place sign – whatever that means). And another several miles to Poe Paddy State Park, hang a left and another mile to a small, unnamed gathering of cabins. It happens a lot out in these parts.

We accidentally took a wrong a turn and ended up on the ass-end of a really bad road and had to turn around. Not a whole lot of fun, really. If I would have had pretty much any vehicle other than a Yaris, I could have done it. But no thanks! We did find our way to this really small town-like thing, near Poe Paddy.

After parking, we crossed a bridge and found the tunnel. It was pretty cool. It was the actual train bridge made into a rails-to-trails bridge. While walking into the tunnel, I turned my left ankle a bit. Yeah, the same ankle I really messed up a couple of months ago. It still hurts a bit. Was a good thing I was wearing my boots – ankle support. If I had been in regular shoes or sneakers, I’d probably be on crutches now.

It was pretty dark in the tunnel. A slight bend prevented us from seeing the other end. On the other end, however, the tunnel looked like, well, a proper train tunnel. Also, there was a great old railroad building that I fell in love with.

I’ve heard that it was possible to take the old railroad grade to Ingleby and then to Coburn. Now, originally, you could. But now, I wasn’t sure. I had heard you still could, but I had also heard that one of the bridges was out.

And we walked maybe a mile westward, towards Ingleby and Coburn. For a bit, we followed a path that was probably an old Native American path along Penns Creek. And yes, that was pretty cool too. We trip-trapped along until we came to where there used to be a bridge. Nothing. Bummer. We had to turn around and go back.

We walked back to and through the tunnel and back to the car and back on the many miles of roads. Much of the driving was on snow-covered roads. It would go from bone dry and dirt to snow in like fifty feet. Was not easy to drive, really. A lot of it was in first gear. We even slipped around a bit. Fun? Sure!

Oh, but I’m an excellent driver, so all was well.

But we made it out to Pine Creek Road, hung a right and drove to Coburn, about three miles down the road. We buzzed through the very small and funky town, took a left on tunnel Road. After about a mile, the road rounded tunnel Mountain. We passed one opening of the tunnel and went around to another small, unnamed collection of cabins and a train bridge.

We couldn’t go through the tunnel because it was way too wet in there. But we crossed the bridge and peered out eastward towards where Ingleby certainly was. We could probably get to it from here, but we’d have to walk a few miles back. No thanks today.

A couple of kids, a guy and a gal in letterman jackets were having some fun in the tunnel. Good for them, it was a beautiful day.

It must have been pretty great to be a train engineer along this route. You’ve got two tunnels, three bridges and some beautiful creek-side scenery.

We left the tunnel scene and drove through the town of Coburn. Coburn is a neat little town with some weirdly colored houses. I have always dug this town, but my God, I would never want to live here. Unless the whole town was made up of people I could actually stomach being secluded away from the world. And honestly, there are WAY too many houses for that in this small town.

But at least one was for sale, so if anyone is interested… there you go.

Ok, maybe I was a bit cranky there. But this town is really in the middle of nowhere. Yet, there are a bunch of houses here. Sure, it was a railroad town and it still has a grainery, but I’m impressed at how large the town still is.

And only one house for sale.

Upon leaving Coburn, it was a quick few miles to the three-mile road that heads back to the ghost town of Ingleby. Ingleby lies between the two tunnels. It was founded around 1880ish and was a pretty hopping logging town. You can read more about Ingleby here (and it’s pretty interesting).

Pretty much all that is left of Ingleby are a few cabins, the old railroad bed and, of course, the Weather Rock.

Like I said, there’s not a whole lot to see here. History is rich, but mostly it’s all gone. It’s still really beautiful, right up against Penns Creek.

Not having a lot to do in Ingleby, we drove back the dirt road to Route 45, took a right and eventually ended up in Lewisburg. Quite the day, huh?

Click here to see all of the pics, including a close up of the writing about the Weather Rock. Do it!

Friday, with nothing better to do, Smartz and I decided to head to Jersey. The original plan was to go to Asbury Park and Iselin (basically “little India”) and drive back to Central PA.

To get to Asbury, I was told by GoogleMaps to take I-80 to PA 33 (which is now basically an interstate). While on PA 33 I saw a sign for Easton, PA and remembered this amazing little two-lane that went along the western bank of the Delaware River, PA 32. We drove through Easton, past the Crayola Crayon Factory, and picked up PA 611, which PA 32 shoots off of.

611 and 32 narrowly wind along the Delaware River and Delaware Canal. Now, I’ve never really been a big fan of canals. I’m more into trains and railroad. But still, a canal is historical, so I do have a certain thumping in my heart for them.

We were being tailed by another, more hurried, motorist, so I decided to pull over at a little state park made for the Delaware Canal Lock. There was basically no explanation for what it was that we were seeing, so I can’t really tell you what we saw.

The Delaware Canal tow path (where the mule pulled the boat) is mostly a walking/biking path. Parts of it were closed due to flooding, but you should be able to walk or bike much of its length. I believe there is also such a thing on the Jersey side, right across the river, but I’m not sure.

This site, Locks Number 22 & 23, had a few old houses, a few picnic tables and some signage explaining how the canal worked and how long it was in operation. A nice diversion, I’ve always wanted to stop at an old canal lock. No reason, really. Just did.

The road, PA 611, turned west and to stay along the river, I turned leftish on to PA 32. Originally, I assume, this was all the same road. PA 32 was thin and windy and pretty fun to drive. However, it gave me quite a scare when it went from a narrow two-lane with traffic able to move freely in both directions, to a weirdly narrow one-lane that use to be two. See?

There were no signs or anything like that to let me know that it was now a south-bound-only road. I basically freaked out. “What the hell?! What if a car comes from the other direction? What do I do?!” But a quick check in my rear view mirror assured me that it was now a one way road. The north-bound traffic were detoured around the wash out. They don’t appear too eager to fix this.

The houses along PA 32 are either really expensive or really run down. All are fun to look at, I suppose. There wasn’t much room to pull over to take a picture. But one house that I was able to capture really caught my eye. It was a small two story house on stilts, right up against the road and the river. I’d love to live in a house like this and can’t really imagine what it would cost. In one sense, you are guaranteed that you will be flooded. That would drive the value down. But you’re right up against a river in a nifty little house. That would drive the value up. Who knows.

Like our north-bound friends, we did have to detour around a washout. The detour took us past countless gigantic houses, most of them new. This was real excess. I didn’t take pictures and I realize that I should have, but think of a huge house, one that just makes you sick and then double it. The detour took us, all the poor people, on a parade tour of Bucks County’s most obnoxious homes. Maybe this was all part of their plan.

We passed through New Hope and there crossed over into Jersey. Once in Jersey, we took the route along the river, NJ 29, to where George Washington crossed the Delaware for a Christmas night (in 1776) surprise attack on some drunk Hessian soldiers. Go, George, Go!

The state park dedicated to it had some fun old houses and told the story, through signage, fairly well. There was also a really tiny bridge, just large enough for two cars to pass without hitting, that spanned the Delaware River into Pennsylvania. We walked across that and saw where ol’ George launched his 2,400 soldiers from on that chilly Christmas night.

Rather than finding the Jersey Turnpike or the Garden State Parkway or some other interstate, I decided that we’d drive across Jersey using nothing by a crappy Rand McNally Atlas and my sense of direction.

Shockingly enough, I was able to pull it off. We got lost a few times and, to be honest, there wasn’t much to see. But it was nicer than fighting for your life on the Turnpike.

We rolled into Asbury Park and the first thing that I noticed was that the Metropolitan Hotel was… gone. It used to be this amazing hotel. But now it’s a pile of rubble. Folks were trying to save it. I heard that it was saved. But I guess not. The 1960’s addition still stood, but the original, very majestic looking original structure was gone. I’ll have my old pics of it up shortly, but for now, check it out here and here.

We drove a block or two farther to near the Casino and parked. I knew that much of the Casino had been torn down. And again, I’ll have my own pics of it up shortly and will do a “before and after” post about Asbury.

So much of it is gone now. They’re building condos and folks are moving in (I guess). But so many of the old buildings that most thought were blights were the reason I went there.

There are a bunch more pics in the gallery linked at this end of this post.

Asbury Park used to really do it for me. And, of course, I’ll keep going back to check the “progress,” but this trip was kind of a downer.

Anyway, we were getting a bit hungry, so decided to head up to Iselin to get some wonderful Indian food.

We got there and a couple of the places were I used to go were shut down. There was one “Desi” vegetarian place, but it was mostly not Indian food. Just stuff like veggie burgers. The other places mostly served South Indian food, which might be amazing, but I have no idea what any of it is.

We ate at a place called Food Land and it was crap. Horrible. Such a let down! Luckily it wasn’t really expensive. God. It was crap. The samosas were ok, but I asked for Aloo Gobi and got peppers with potato. It came with a paper plate full of lettuce with two slices of tomato. Seriously. Why bother? Why not just not have a “salad”?

They were playing some particularly crappy Bollywood music videos. I really don’t get it. Does the whole culture not get how cheesy they are?

Oh, and just because you’re not white doesn’t mean that you’re black. Ok? You’re just not. Dear India, knock it the hell off, ok?

All in all it was a fun trip with crappy Indian food. Come to think of it, it was the second fun trip with crappy Indian food in a row.

I took the interstates back to central PA. It’s dark, nothing to see, so why not?

I’m really having a blast doing all this traveling and all these day trips. Woo!

OH! And here are all the pictures from Jersey!

Growing up, I had always heard stories of a town just north of Allenwood (which is about 25 minutes away from my hometown), that was taken over by the US government in World War II and turned into a huge munitions factory. I never gave it much thought and had never tried to find it, but as it turns out, it’s true and while most of the town is gone, it still makes for a fun trip.

In the spring of 1942, residents were evicted by eminent domain from 163 farms and 47 other properties in Gregg Township in Union County and Brady, Clinton, and Washington Townships in Lycoming County. The village of Alvira in Gregg Township disappeared.[29] Alvira was founded in 1825 as “Wisetown” and had 100 inhabitants by 1900. Although the inhabitants were told they could return after the war, almost all the buildings seized were razed. Only some cemeteries and the nearby “Stone Church” remain.
Read more here.

I got a little lost on my way there. I had directions, but the way to get to Alvira wasn’t on them. I figured I could remember road names. I am really bad with this. How I got to Alvira is like this:
Take Route 15 North from Lewisburg. In Allenwood, take a left on PA 44. PA 44. After about a mile, the road will “dog-leg” to the left. Following this road straight will bring you to the White Deer Baptist Church. This was the southern edge of Alvira. The church is still functioning has weekly services. There’s also a cemetery. The road, I believe is the original PA 44. When the government moved in, the road had to change. Thus the weird “dog-leg.” It’s all speculation, but hey, why not?

Anyway, the directions. 15N to Allenwood, left on 44, then after about two and a half miles, a right on Mill Road. Take Mill Road for about a mile and a half and you’ll find yourself at the intersection of Mill and Alvira Roads. Take a right on Alvira Road and you’ll come into the old town.

The first thing you’ll see is a chicken coop. It’s in pretty good condition and looks like it might be something that was built for he workers at the TNT factory. Less than 100 yards down the road I came upon my first munitions storage bunker. The government supposedly built 149 of these bunkers. Many still remain if you care to walk the old “streets” of Alvira.

All the houses of the town are gone. They were destroyed for the TNT factory and storage. And I can’t really tell which of the “streets” were original and which were made by the government for the facility. But there is definitely a grid-like system of streets going on here. Here is a link to GoogleMaps satellite shot of Alvira. You can clearly see the grid of streets. Unfortunately, these can’t be driven. It’s all state hunting lands now. You have to hike in and hike out. And be really freaking careful during hunting season. I simply wouldn’t go there then.

While the first bunker I came across was locked up, probably used as storage for the Fish & Game Commission, the second one, just as accessible, was open to the public and shitty graffiti artists. Now, normally, I’m a huge fan of good, artistic graffiti, sadly, it’s not the case at Alvira. But inside the bunker it was really fun. Your voice would echo and every sound was amplified. I even got a recording of me stomping my feet while chanting “Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna.” I’m kind of weird sometimes. You can listen to my Hare Krishna Stomp! if you like.

On top, as shown in the right-most picture, there was an air vent.

I think I saw six or seven bunkers. Most of which you could get into. In one of them, I saw the Stubbs and Propane had already been there. Stubbs and Propane are two guys from the local punk scene. I’ve not seen them or talked to them in years, so it was nice for a kind of little hello.

Down the road just a bit, lies the Alvira Cemetery. There are actually two cemeteries here. And one church foundation. I’m not sure if the church owned both cemeteries or just the one behind it. The northern cemetery, which seems to be the newest of the three in town, is best preserved. It’s the most out in the open and looks just like a normal cemetery. The last burial in it seems to be from the 1940’s, but I could be wrong about that. I didn’t spend too much time in that cemetery, because I caught a glimpse of an older one, just south of the newer one.

All that is left of the church is the foundation. I believe this is the Messiah Church. The cemetery right below this church was much older than the one to the north of it. Also, it’s a bit more secluded, which means more damage to grave stones. It’s really a shame that people can’t just leave well enough alone, but that’s how it is, I guess.

Only about a quarter mile south of what could be the old Messiah Church lies the remains of the Washington Presbyterian Church and cemetery. And also a couple of bunkers. This also marks the end of public access to the road. The Federal Correctional Institute, Allenwood or “Allenwood Prison Camp” as it’s lovingly called by locals, has a fence up so that we can’t get in and inmates can’t get out.

Remember the White Deer Baptist Church that I mentioned near the top of this post? The road that it is on connects to this road – it’s the same road (possibly old 44).

This cemetery was pretty fun. It had some really old grave markers in it, including a couple from the Revolutionary War and some from the War of 1812.

There was also a really fun one from the Civil War. It was a large slab with names engraved on top of it. Between the names (husband and wife, I think) was a little bronze plaque. You can click on the picture to read it.

The roof of the prison could be seen just over the hill northeast of the cemetery. And while there are TNT storage bunkers dotting the “streets” here, the actual TNT factory lies on the other side of the fence on prison property. It is now part of their farm and used to store prisoners.

I had always wanted to go to Alvira and wish I knew more about the town. Surprisingly nobody seems to have written a book about it. The story is a good one, it’s weird that nobody has ever done it.

Oh, the story of Alvira. I got sidetracked and forgot to finish it.

This is from the book Pennsylvania Ghost Towns; Uncovering the Hidden Past by Susan Hutchison Tassin

Alvira boasted a blacksmith shop, school, post office, several shops and three churches – Baptist, Presbyterian, and Messiah. In time, an auto repair shop and a baseball field were added to the area. The towns people were a close-knit group and tended to stay long-term in the area. In fact, the owner of the auto repair shop was the last remaining resident of Alvira. He finally left in June 1942, when a tornado tore the roof off his home.

The United States had entered World War II a few months before talk of building a munitions plant reached the residents of Alvira, in the White Deer Valley. On March 7, 1942, a town meeting was called, held in the Stone Church in nearby Montgomery. Government officials at the meeting explained the plans to build a munitions storage facility in Alvira, which would mean taking over fifty farms. The 8,000 acre buyout happened quickly. Within a week, the issue was decided, leaving some residents outraged and fearful.

Petitions were circulated by some, decrying the project and its impact on the residents of the valley, but to no avail. The secrecy surrounding the project worked against the locals. it was considered dangerous to discuss the details of the proposed munitions factory, as they might fall into the wrong hands. The fight to stop the government’s decision fell on deaf ears. … In all, 177 homes were abandoned and destroyed in Alvira.

The government decided to build an enormous $15 million trinitrotoluene (TNT) factory to supply the army with explosives. The proposed plant would employ more than 10,000 workers in the building phase, and then 4,000 to actually manufacture the TNT.

A bus ran between Alvira and Williamsport to transport workers. A trailer park was set aside nearby to house employees. Storage bunkers were built to hold the explosives. The storage huts, which resemble concrete igloos, were built with thick walls, designed to explode upward rather than outward in case of accidental explosion. … It appeared that the government was prepared to produce an enormous quantity of explosives, and that the people of Alvira had done their patriotic duty by leaving the area.

… It turned out the War Department did not have the voracious need for TNT that the government had expected. The TNT factory was abandoned after functioning for just a short time, and the storage bunkers were emptied. By late 1945, all work had stopped….

This left the former residents scratching their heads, wondering why they had been forced to leave their lifelong homes, which were subsequently destroyed. Why had such an expensive, destructive undertaking been such a folly? …

Any rancor that remains rests in the broken promises that were made to the residents of Alvira. When they were told of the decision to demolish their town to build the munitions plant, the homeowners were also told that when the need for TNT ended, they would be given first rights to buy back their original lands. This never happened. Instead, the land was kept by the federal government to build a prison, with portions sold to the state of Pennsylvania for game lands.

And that was my trip.

I then did some exploring on Old Route 15 north of Williamsport and a bit of Route 6 from Mansfield to Troy, but I won’t bore you with those incredibly geeky details.

Thanks for reading along.

If you like, you can see a gallery of the 78 or so pictures I took of Alvira and the 15 to 6 trip (but mostly it’s Alvira). You can view that by clicking…. here.

[This is part one of two (I think).]

Well, maybe not. But I was traveling from 7am till 9:30pm. That’s right, 14 and a half hours. And it was pretty amazing.

I love traveling before the sun comes up. And while I didn’t have much driving time in the early dawn, it was pretty great. Though, honestly, I don’t remember much about the beginning of the trip until I was through the Harrisburg area. That’s weird. I have no memory of how I got to Harrisburg. Odd.

Anyway, let me introduce you to my traveling partners.

They were with me in the bus and now they’re with me in the Yaris. Fun! There is also Chicken Puppet, but I didn’t get a pic of him. He was hiding or something.

My first stop was Gettysburg. I know, I was just there, so I don’t really know why I felt compelled to hit it again, but it’s on the way and how could I not?

I visited the first day’s field: the 11th Corps line and McPherson’s Barn. I had a great-great, etc grandfather who fought with the 150th Pennsylvania right in front and around the McPherson Barn. So it’s a pretty special place for me. Oddly enough, I had never jumped the fence to see it up close. But oh I did today. It’s not illegal or anything, but still.

I also stopped at a plaque that I didn’t see before. I don’t think it’s that new, but I’ve never seen it. It was for Camp Colt, the World War II era tank training camp that was right on the battlefield. That was pretty interesting. And the 8th Ohio Monument. Their story at Gettysburg is one of my favorite.

From Gettysburg, I took old Route 15 South to Emmitsburg, Maryland and Mount St. Mary’s. There is a grotto there that I’ve visited a few times before. It’s great. No, I was never Catholic or anything, but it’s always moved me. There’s a huge golden statue of Mary that you can see for miles and mile around. And behind her, there’s a walkway with the stations of the cross.

Towards the end of the walkway, there is a small pond and a spring. There’s also a chapel and a statue of Mother Elizabeth Ann Seton, she’s the patron saint of Catholic schools. And of Maryland. Yep, the whole state.

It’s all very peaceful and awe-inspiring. Sure, it’s got some of that 60’s Vatican II cheese that Catholicism seems to be overcome with. But all in all it was great.

There’s not a whole lot to do there, so I moved on. I took Old Frederick Road to Frederick, Maryland. Both Old Frederick Road and US Route 15, a mile or so to the west, existed prior to the Civil War. The Union Army used both on their way to and from Gettysburg in 1863.

Along the road, I saw a “Civil War Trails” sign. Whenever I see one of those signs, I usually turn off and read whatever plaque it there. Sometimes it’s nothing. Sometimes it’s a whole battle. This time it was just a bridge. But oh it was a covered bridge. All the plaque said was that Meade, the Union General at Gettysburg used the bridge and had a headquarters in a near-by town. Interesting, but I would rather have heard about where the headquarters was.

I took a by-pass around Frederick, MD and found Alt US 40 West. I love Alt 40. It’s the old Route 40. National Road. Love it? Oh yes I do.

I took National Road (which isn’t so well marked in this part of Maryland) to Middletown and then turned off for Burkittsville, the home of the Blair Witch! Well, not exactly. The reason I was going there was because there was a part of a rather big Civil War battle (Battle of South Mountain) that took place there.

Above Burkittsville is Gathland State Park and the Appalachian Trail. I spent a bit of time there. I really love this place. Yes, the apex of the Battle of Crampton’s Gap (this part of South Mountain) occurred here. There’s a small park with ruins of the an old estate that used to be there (this was his land). Also, there’s a huge arch monument dedicated to Civil War reporters.

Just north of Crampton’s Gap is Fox’s Gap. A battle took place here as well, part of the Battle of South Mountain. This was a small battle, basically a holding action to allow the Confederates to consolidate their forces. Nevertheless, two generals, one on each side, died. Gen. Garland on the Confederate side and Gen. Reno on the Union side. There are monuments to each, but the Reno Monument is much larger.

The ground around Fox’s Gap is much the same as it was in the mid 1800’s. The same can almost be said about the gap just to the north of Fox’s, Turner’s Gap. National Road has gone through there for quite a long time. The road is a bit wider now and there’s a church built by the wife who invented the gun that was on the USS Monitor.

And just north of Turner’s Gap is the first Washington Monument. This was built in 1827 and used as a signal station during the Civil War. It had fallen down quite a bit, but was finally restored by a CCC camp (Civilian Conservation Corps) during the depression-era. And now it’s a state park. You can climb up the thing (through a staircase) and see three states and a bunch of cool stuff.

There are moments in my travels where something will happen that will make all of the long hours of driving worth it. While I was up top of the Washington Monument, a father brought his seven year old daughter to the top to take a look. He asked her is she was having an ok time. She got a really excited look on her face and exclaimed, “THIS PLACE IS AWESOME!”

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[to be continued tomorrow...]

[When last we left our hero, he was descending South Mountain on National Road nearing Hagerstown, Maryland. The Washington Monument behind him, he now makes his way towards Antietam National Battlefield and west towards Wheeling, West Virginia.]

One thing that I failed to mention was just how windy it was the whole day. Especially on the Washington Monument. Possibly 40 to 50 mph gusts. It was quite blustery!

Alt Route 40 West from South Mountain takes you through Boonsboro. It’s a neat little town that seems to be getting to big. I’m not sure why, there’s no strip malls or anything, but it just seems to be too big. Stop it, Boonsboro.

A quick left turn down Maryland Route 34 takes me in the “back way” to Antietam. However, before I get there, I decide to take an old alignment of the Shepherdstown Pike through Keedysville. There was something about this town that really did it for me. I think it was the houses. Now, as I may have mentioned before, I love northern Maryland. I’m not exactly sure that I could live there, but I love to visit. Keedysville is a very Civil War-era town. Many towns around here are like this. However, many of the towns have been changed by larger US Routes going through them.

Keedysville seems relatively unchanged. It was cut off long ago by a quick little Route 34 bypass. And while life hasn’t really stopped for the folks who live there, it has definitely slowed down. I will definitely make it a point to stop here again.

A few miles down the road from Keedysville is Sharpsburg, home of the battle of Antietam. Many Civil War battles have two names. The south would generally name battles after the city or town that was nearby. In this case, Sharpsburg. The north would name battles after a body of water or some other geographical location. In this case, Antietam (named after Antietam Creek).

Antietam’s battlefield park is quite a bit different from Gettysburg. In a way, it seems older. Or at least not as redone and refurbished. That’s not to say that it’s falling apart or shabby. Not at all. With the exception of the goofy looking visitor’s center, probably built in the architecturally unforgivable early to mid 1960’s, the park is pristine. It seems fairly unchanged from September 1862, when the battle took place.

Looks are a bit deceiving, several large wood lots were logged after the war. They are being replanted.

Of course, the battlefield is dotted with monuments and plaques commemorating the boys who fought and died here. And many died, were wounded or captured. In one day’s fighting, there were 23,000 casualties. It still remains the bloodiest day in American history.

The battle has always been a bit of a blur to me. I know the basics, of course, but when I get there, my sense of direction is all thrown off. The Union attacks happened in three phases, from north to south. First through the Cornfield, then to the Sunken Road (or Bloody Lane) and lastly over Burnside’s Bridge.

The day was brought to a stalemate when Confederate reinforcements attacked the attacking Union forces. By 5:30, the battle was over. Neither side could claim victory. The next day an unofficial truce was observed and the dead were buried. There were more dead than on D-Day, more dead than on 9/11.

Out of all of the battlefield, the Burnside Bridge means the most to me. I had an ancestor, a great, etc grandfather in the 51st Pennsylvania. They, along with the 51st New York, took the bridge. Throughout the day, General Burnside had tried to take the bridge. It was being held by roughly 500 Confederates in the hill immediately overlooking the creek. Burnside had at his command 12,500 troops. About a quarter of them got lost in the woods. Another group tried to ford the creek about a half-mile down stream (they failed to do so). Burnside’s remaining troops tried twice to take the bridge. They also failed with very heavy casualties.

It was then up to the two 51st’s to give it a shot. The colonel of the 51st Pennsylvania abstained from alcohol. He also forced his men to abstain. Most Union troops were given a whiskey ration. But not the 51st. The men did not care for this. After receiving orders from General Burnside to take the bridge, the colonel of the 51st Pennsylvania spoke to his men, “It is General Burnside’s special request that the two 51st’s take the bridge. Will you do it?”

A soldier shouted back, “Will you give us our whiskey, Colonel, if we make it?”

“Yes, by God!” was the reply.

The two 51st’s, my great, etc grandfather with them, stormed the bridge and took it. And yes, they got their whiskey!

From Burnside’s Bridge, I drove the remainder of the park, along the crest of a ridge that overlooked a valley. I’ve been meaning to take a nice long walk down in there to see what there is to see. If I had more time, I would have.

[Thus ends the second of three installments... tune in tomorrow for the exciting conclusion of "Thursday was the longest day ever!"]

[And now the exciting conclusion of the "Thursday was the longest day ever" trilogy!]

I knew I was running short on time. I had told Rati that I would be there around 7pm. My initial figuring was that this trip would take me 14 hours. For some reason, I reassessed that and said that it would take me 12. It was looking as if 14 would be a bit closer to reality.

I was six or seven hours away from my final destination. Antietam wasn’t my last stop for the day, but it was my last long stop. The rest would be mostly driving.

The driving would mostly be on Old National Road. I made my way through Hagerstown. From here on out, Civil War history was mostly behind me.

Large cities, like Hagerstown (ok, not really large, but it was larger than anything I passed through today), don’t mean much to me when traveling these back roads. Sometimes I’ll even bypass them. I did that a bit with Hagerstown, but before I knew it, I was back on Alt Route 40.

There were no scheduled stops now. I would pull over wherever I saw something worth pulling over for. A bridge or a historical marker or an old alignment that was long-ago bypassed. It’s the way I travel. And after you’ve done it, it’s difficult to pull the car back onto the long, boring super slab of an interstate. Very difficult. And so even though I was running late and the interstate was, at times, mere yards from me, I stayed true to the old National Road.

Unfortunately, I did have to jump on the interstate for a bit. I-70 is laid right over the old National Road. However, before I was giving this displeasure, I searched out an old fort (which was gated and closed) and found an old cemetery.

And I mean old. The newest grave was from 1823 or something. Many of the graves were marked only with an unmarked river stone. I’m not sure if there was a town here or perhaps this was from the fort or the railroad (which was nearby). Many of the markers were damaged, most of them by time.

Farther west, just after leaving I-70, I was able, for the first time, to navigate Sidling Hill via US Route 40. Ironically enough, the abandoned Pennsylvania Turnpike tunnel (Sideling Hill Tunnel) I had visited on my way to Pennsylvania a week or so prior was dug through the same hill, 20 or so miles to the north. The interstate now cuts a huge gap into the mountain. The Old US Route 40 (National Road) takes the long way around. It’s a beautiful drive and i encourage anyone to take it.

After many more gorgeous miles of National Road, stopping here and there to read a sign or two, driving through Cumberland (the old start of National Road) and Frostburg, I drive by and turn around for a really fun looking bridge. Are you shocked? No?

Castleman’s River Bridge is quite the structure. It was built in 1813 and was the largest stone arch in America at the time. It was used for about 100 years and then retired. And though it was getting late, I stopped, walked across it to a weird little village of log cabins that must be something touristie during the warmer months. Traveling in March has its blessings afterall!

Shortly after the bridge, I crossed into Pennsylvania. National Road/Route 40 cruise up into Pennsylvania before crossing the West Virginia panhandle and Wheeling. And shortly after crossing into Pennsylvania, I pass Fort Necessity. For the record and for what it’s worth, let me say that I know nothing about Fort Necessity. It was a fort during the French & Indian War. There was a battle there. That is my entire knowledge of it. I’ll hopefully be revisiting the fort in the near future.

However, farther up the road I came across a sort of place of pilgrimage for National Road folks. Here lies General Edward Braddock. He was the leader of the British forces during the French and Indian War. He is also the guy who carved out “Braddock’s Road,” which later became the basis for National Road and US Route 40. Basically, this is the fellow who started it all.

Braddock started in Cumberland, just like National Road. His objective was a fort near Pittsburgh. Unfortunately, he met an untimely death in an ambush near what is now the town of McKeesport, PA (in 1755). His troops, in retreat, carried his body to the location where I now stood and buried it in an unmarked grave under his road. George Washington, who was fighting with Braddock, performed the ceremony.

The grave remained unknown until 1804 when road workers found it and reinterred it a short distance to where he lies today.

The road is still very visible in this location. Much of the long ago abandoned trace is visible in farmer’s fields and through woods. Sadly, much of it is gone.

And now it was really getting dark. I had no chance to stop at anything from here on out. I passed through and got very lost in Uniontown, PA. I hope it never darkens my path again.

However, just after Uniontown was Brownsville. Brownsville looks like a bomb hit it. It was nearly full-on dark when I passed through it, but I will most definitely be back. National Road drags you to Brownsville’s downtown. Every store is closed. Every single one. It was almost like driving through the largest ghost town I had ever seen.

Darkness had fully set in.

Upon Washington, PA, I entered the Interstate and drove quickly to Wheeling, West Virginia. My home for about a week.

Thanks for reading along. I’m sorry that it was so long-winded. I know most of it is history related and I know that it doesn’t appeal to many, but thanks for putting up with me.

As a reward, here are all of the pics from Thursday.
All 172 of them.
Click!

Upon coming back to WV, I had a few trips in mind. One was to Philippi and Rich Mountain (the first and third land battles of the Civil War)… (the second was The Battle of Big Bethel, in southeast Virginia).

Anyway, Philippi is about 2 hours of ridiculously twisty US250 South away. It’s beautiful, of course, but wow, it’s really freakily twisty. The towns along US250 are pretty run down, but would be great for a bit of urban exploration if you’re crazy enough to enter the rickety buildings of West Virginians with guns. Just a thought.

The towns of Littleton and Hundred were great and there seemed to be a bit of appreciation for their history. There was a rails-to-trails section along the old B & O Railroad bed (B & O stands for Baltimore & Ohio Railroad – they owned most of the rail traffic through here).

I stumbled across an old tunnel, but it had been bricked up. Hopefully it can be unbricked for future rails-to-trails stuff. But seeing has how the locals use the old railroad bed as a road for everything from ATVs to regular cars, it’s rather unlikely.

A bit farther down the line, the town of Mannington was pretty cool. There was a Civil War Trails plaque that basically gave an overview of stuff in the area. Union troops camped here in 1861, before any fighting took place.

While driving through Mannington, I saw a sign for “Round Barn.” Sarah, for some reason, was on a round barn kick a few weeks ago and yeah, I think they’re pretty cool too. So I hung a right and after a few miles, there it was. West Virginia’s only restored round barn.

An old fellow came out of his house, which I assumed originally was the farm house for the barn, though it’s a separate property now. He walked up to my car and asked “Is that one of them there hybrid cars?” I said that it wasn’t, “nope, just a normal car.” He asked how much it got per gallon. I said around 40. “Yeah boy, I tell you, that’s what you need nowadays. Gas is ridiculous. N’it’s just gonna git worse, I fear.”

He was a nice fellow and I got a smile out of him. Not a bad thing.

Back on US250, eventually it connects to it’s parent route, US 50. It follows along US 50 to Grafton, passing a really cool old motel. Grafton has a very large national cemetery where they’ve buried soldiers from WW 2 onward. I visited it looking for Civil War graves, but those are in another, apparently impossible to find, cemetery. I drove around the town looking for it and failed. I did, however find a sad, run down town that was desperately trying to find itself.

It was in Grafton that the Union troops coordinated the attack on Philippi. It was here that the Civil War’s first battle was planned. They really want to focus on that. It was also a pretty big B & O Railroad yard. And not only that, it was (supposedly) the place where the first Mother’s Day was celebrated.

While it’s true that Anna Jarvis founded Mother’s Day in Grafton, WV, the first attempt at an American Mother’s Day was by Julia Ward Howe after the Civil War as a call for peace and disarmament. It didn’t really take since there was a political bent to it. However, Jarvis’s “just celebrate mom” (a good idea, to be sure) worked. And in 1907, we got Mother’s Day. Though, nine years after the first Mother’s Day, Jarvis protested against what it had become: commercialized by American consumerism. Big shock.

They should have went with the original idea.

While leaving Grafton, I stopped at a Civil Monument. I usually just pass them by (seriously, I know it doesn’t seem like I do, but I really do!) and found this one to be very interesting.

This was the spot, the exact spot, where the first Union soldier was killed by enemy fire. Actually, it’s where the first soldier of either side was killed. Here is where, on May 22, 1861, Thornsbury Bailey Brown, Company B “The Grafton Guards,” 2nd Virginia (US) was shot by a Confederate sniper.

When the Confederates fired upon the Union-held Fort Sumter, in Charleton harbor, on April 12, 1861, it was considered the start of the Civil War. However, while the fort was surrendered, nobody was killed by enemy fire. So, well over a month later, we get our first casualty.

Coincidently, the first Confederate casualty was at the Battle of Big Bethel, hundreds of miles away, on June 10. The Confederates soundly defeated the Union, incurring only one death, though killed several (eight, I think) Union soldiers.

And from Grafton, on to Philippi! Philippi has a covered bridge. A big one. Oh I couldn’t wait! I had been there over a decade before and wanted to see it again.

It’s also the place where the first land battle of the Civil War took place on June 3, 1861. It was a fairly bloodless battle where the Union troops caught the Confederates by surprise. They fired a few shots and fled. Nobody died.

The real carnage of the war wasn’t a reality. Not yet. After Philippi was the battle of Big Bethel, hundreds of miles away and basically unrelated. Few deaths there too.

But The Battle of Rich Mountain had to have changed some folks’ idea of what the war would be.

Rich Mountain Battlefield, south of Philippi was my next destination. I had never been there and I really dig these small battlefields. The Confederate camping ground was still open land (treeless) and you could get a feel for how it was. The battlefield, just up the hill, still had fairly well preserved earthworks. I was pretty stoked about that. You don’t get to see such things very often.

Up the hill even farther, is where the real tumult took place. On July 11, 1861, the sneaky Union troops surprised the Confederates yet again and split them in two. After a two-hour (some sources say four-hour) battle, the Union had killed, wounded or captured over 400 Confederates.

After the war, many Confederate soldiers came back and carved the names of the fallen comrades upon the many rocks, memorializing the first who fell on their baptism of fire.

I had further plans for the day, but had taken too long along the way (especially in Grafton) to complete them. On top of all that, I had one of the worst headaches I’ve had in a long, long time. I decided to call it a day and head back.

Click to view pics of my day.
[a few, at the bottom, are out of order - I don't know why]

Sometimes impromptu trips are wonderful.

I’ll be leaving on Friday morning for a whirlwind trip with Smartz and her friend Becky. It’s kind of neat to be hitting some of Route 66 before hitting Route 66 on the scooter.

Day One – Leaving early morning on I-80 west (possibly my leave favorite highway ever) to Chicago. Once in Chicago, we’re seeing The Bean and maybe the Chicago Diner. Hey, did anyone know that Oz Park existed? Weird! I’d love to see it. We’ll be staying near Joliet, IL that night.

Day Two – Taking Old Route 66 across Illinois to just outside of St. Louis. Lots of things to see. You can read about my 2006 trip on this section here.

Day Three – In St. Louis we’ll see the arch, Laumeier Sculpture Park and the Sierra Sculpture Park. After those, we’ll be taking Old Route 66 to Lebanon, MO. We’ll bid adieu to the Mother Road and take a couple of other roads to just outside of Memphis, TN.

Day Four – In Memphis. Becky is visiting a campus for grad school and Smartz and I will be taking in some sites provided by my dear friend Cole who had the fortune to live in Memphis for a bit for some reason or another (hehe). This is the reason for the trip, really. It started with Becky wanting to just go to Memphis to check out a campus. We’ll be staying east of Nashville that night.

Day Five – Heading to Roanoke, VA and then taking the Blue Ridge Parkway and Skyline Drive to Front Royal, VA. From there it’s a near straight shot on I-81 back home to Bloomsburg.

The trip was originally supposed to be Smartz and Becky going to Memphis. Clearly, I got my meddling fingers in this thing.

We’ll see how it goes.
Here’s the map…