Day 11

October 14, 2021:

In the morning, I called Dada to say hi, that I was well. After packing my things (this is already starting to get old), I extricated my bike from the hills I had pushed it up and cycled to The Edge bar to throw away my trash. I looped back around Export and followed the hilly road to Delmont. It was steep, and I had to take breaks often despite having been on the lowest gear. Thankfully, after reaching each peak, I was rewarded with a cool breeze as I plunged down the other side.

After passing Delmont, I turned onto 22. Perhaps stupidly, I followed it for some 15-ish miles. I saw lots of coal on the side of the highway… perhaps enough to fill an entire truck (though hardly economical). I was looking forward to an ice cream or a malt from Scoop’s creamery which I had cursorily seen on the map earlier. Before getting my hopes too far up though, I looked more closely and saw that the Blairsville location was temporarily closed.

Instead, I went to Clem’s, a barbeque restaurant located along 22 itself. I pulled my bicycle behind a fence and locked it, clipping my gloves on, and removing my cell phone and wallet. I wiped sweat from my brow, took a sip of water, and walked inside. The restaurant was simply arranged, with – from right to left - a menu board from which to place an order, a glass-paned refrigerator with pre-packaged cold sides, a register, and seating booths. I got baby back ribs, potato salad, sweet potato pie, and a black cherry soda. The food was fantastic. I’d never had sweet potato pie before, but boy was it good. It has the texture, consistency, and appearance of pumpkin pie, but with the flavor of sweet potato. Totally works. I went back for seconds to bring with me for later and got cole slaw and pasta salad as well as another serving of the pie and glass-bottled soda.

I followed 22 just a little while longer, crossing to some back roads that followed the Hoodlebug Trail north. The Hoodlebug Trail continues to Indiana, PA, but I split off to the Ghost Town Trail. After about a mile, I noticed my front wheel getting a bit flat, and wondered if it was a slow leak caused by a puncture or just the naturally slow leak of the tire on its own. I pumped it back up, then was off.

The Ghost Town Trail is fantastic! It’s probably my favorite trail so far. The trail follows Black Lick Creek upstream along a former rail line. Black Lick Creek is reminiscent of the San Lorenzo river and the Garden of Eden near Felton, CA, with cascading clear water tumbling over large boulders. Deeper spots were marked with a pale blue that I only recall having seen at Humantay Lake, in the Vilcabamba region of Peru. I yearned to find a nice picnic spot with a swimming hole where I could dive in. But I wanted to do that once I was done cycling for the day, worried that once wet, I’d have difficulty getting fully dry, and that this would result in unpleasant chafing for the remaining ride. So I continued, still having a few hours of daylight left.

The Ghost Town Trail passes coal spills, mines, pig iron furnaces, and, naturally, ghost towns. There are three furnace sites located along the trail, with the ruins of two – the Buena Vista and Eliza furnaces – still standing. The furnaces produced pig iron in the hundreds of tons in the early 1800s during the canal era. The iron was shipped to Pittsburgh in the west or to eastern PA for further processing in a forge. Signs along the trail describe the different roles workers served in the industry, from founders to colliers to woodcutters. The process requires iron ore, limestone, and charcoal, each in large quantities. Local industry was devoted to the task of mining and producing this material.

During the same timeframe, coal was found to be abundant in the region, but was somewhat overlooked until later. In the late 1800s, several new towns sprung up to support the mining industry. Towns were often closed, private company towns, where the local head of the corporation served essentially as dictator of the town. Take, for example, Clarence Claghorn of Wehrum: “…no czar of all of Russia was clothed with more authority than Mr. Claghorn in his own little principality.” writes Charles Hassen, in 1904.

There are several such ghost towns along the trail, including: Claghorn, Dias, Scott Clen, Armerford, Buffington, Wehrum, Lackawanna, Bracken, and Beula. For many, all that’s left are a few old gravestones. They were abandoned in the early 1900s, when the coal industry faced a downturn, and companies closed down operations.

But some coal mining did continue in the region, and still does to this day. Notably, the North Cambrian Fuel Company owned a tipple on the western side of the trail which was the central location whereby all coal mined by the company in the region was shipped from. Operations continued until the 1977 Johnstown flood, which caused eleven-foot floodwaters to surge down the Conemaugh river and its tributaries, including Black Lick Creek. The floodwaters caused several damns to fail and wreaked enormous damage along the way. The coal tipple was severely damaged, and a coal train had to wait some nine months for the tracks to be repaired before getting on its way.

Following the trail, this local history becomes apparent. There are signs at each furnace and ghost town to explain the history of each site. As I continued upstream, though, the river became more stagnant and flat. I was quite bummed out that I had passed the most beautiful part of the river, and that this would no longer do as a good picnic or swimming spot. The lesson learned here is to take opportunities when you can get them. While I had good reason for moving past earlier sections of the trail, my one big regret so far is not having spent more time along that riverfront. Further upstream, there were many ‘No Trespassing’ signs and I moved along quickly.

Eventually, I found a good spot to camp for the evening that did not have such signage. It was well-hidden from the trail, and situated at an exceptionally nice area of the now much smaller creek. There was a brief spot of rapids, a few larger mossy boulders, and a relatively flat space for me to set up camp just feet from the water’s edge. I did so, and listened to the gurgles of the creek late into the night.