The Margush Families Pennsylvania Vacation

August 1998

Hilltop Lodge - Just a few minutes from Emporium (hereafter referred to as Euphoria) - was our home base for a week in North Central Pennsylvania. Tim (that's me), Gail, Anna, Stephanie, David, and Kayla Margush constituted the western contingent. They were joined by Philip (my brother), Jewel, Lizzy, Jon, Hannah, and Mary for a families (sic) vacation. The adventure began on Saturday evening. The westernmost Margush's arrived first and settled into the best of the accommodations, leaving whatever was left for the latecoming Margush's. Late in the evening, the easternmost Margush's arrived, after having circumnavigated the area in search of a place called Howard's Siding and a poorly marked turnoff leading up a mountain to the Lodge. No doubt the search reminded them of one elderly bunny character who often needed help to find his way. Car lights coming up the tunnel of pines brought with them sighs of relief from those already settled in. After a brief time of reunion, we turned in for the night in great anticipation of what the next dawn would bring.

The main meal for the day featured corn off the cob. We had no large pot to boil corn on the cob, so we improvised with a frying pan - I prefer my corn this way (off the cob) anyway as the butter applied to the ear always seems to leak onto my beard and mustache. Early evening brought one of the landlord's good friends to our back yard. We chatted a while about the area, the history of the place, local attractions, and child labor laws. He told of a church nearby with a hand-painted mural, a museum that might be of interest, and of a ram's head that could be seen from the bank of a local stream. We also learned a little about the Seneca Indian history of the area. We had more than enough suggestions for future adventures.

On several evenings, small groups of the vacation party would wander across the road, climb between treacherous motocross trails, and pass between two stands of trees into a pleasant pasture overlooking a valley formed by the conjunction of three mountains. Sitting quietly, or engaging in subdued conversation, the participants of the excursion would watch for deer and other wildlife. It seemed that the troubles of the world were always left behind, perhaps somewhere on the slopes of the now quiet race track that had been earlier traversed; this corner of the world seemed mysteriously protected and sheltered. The deer passing below were unaware of the human presence until the volume of conversation increased to carry itself down the hill and find the cupped openings of their erect ears. After a lengthy gaze in the direction of the new sounds, the deer's course was generally altered to take them to a more remote part of the valley or into the forest beyond, sometimes in quite a hurry with bobbing white tails behind.

Monday our adventures began in earnest. It brought with it the opportunity to trace the Allegheny river to its very source. We headed north out of Euphoria, then East through Port Allegany and Coudersport. Eventually we came upon a ditch in a field on the North side of the road along Route 49. The ditch, hardly visible for the unkempt grass growing there, passed under the road through a small and unimpressive culvert. An historical marker confirmed our hopes and suspicions that this was indeed the headwater of the mighty Allegheny. This historic spot was shared by another marker telling of a Priest who also passed that way in the dawn of our country's history.

A few pictures later, our curiosity being satisied, we backtracked to Port Allegany for supper. An eating establishment sandwiched between an interesting Presbyterian church building and an historic Inn attracted us to feast on RB sandwiches and related fare. The correct spelling of the river and town's name was a question that we had hoped to settle on this trip. The historical marker used the 'Allegheny' spelling for the river, while the official 'Welcome to Port Allegany' signs, and an old wooden sign, apparently from an early banking institution, confirmed our fears that the town's spelling was at variance with that of the river flowing through it. I suspect that this arrangement was instituted at some early time to confuse poor schoolchildren that had to walk through deep snow in bare and bleeding feet over several miles of treacherous terrain, in order to write their spelling words 100 times on a rough slate.

Next we headed for Kinzua State Park to view the famous viaduct (termed by some: wye-a-duck) we hoped to cross via an old-time excursion train in a future adventure. Comparing the details shown on our electronic map with our physical surroundings, we were certain we had located the exact junction of our current thoroughfare with that of the road we hoped to take to the bridge. However, the road appeared to be partially underwater! We were about to take the turn anyway, when a spark of apprehension caused me to recall the instructions I had seen at the bottom of a Yahoo generated map:

(Like any driving directions/map, you should always do a reality check and make sure the road still exists, watch out for construction, and follow all traffic safety precautions. This is only to be used as an aid in planning).

That admonition likely saved me and my family from great harm. It is clear to me now how many have come to implicitly trust information found on the Internet or reported by other computer software. So we did a reality check and found it in variance with our virtual reality (now that I think about this more, was the virtual admonition referring only to virtual reality?).

The electronic map showed virtually no water in this area and had no indication that pontoons would be required or some alternate type of motor vehicle might be needed - yet the hard reality of our situation could not be ignored. The road passed through a swamp capable of swallowing vehicles of our size whole. We decided it best to choose an alternate route. Once again, consulting our virtual reality and making the requisite comparisons to physical evidence, we turned off on another road, this one was of the gravel variety.

After a short jaunt, we were stopped by a barricade reminiscent of those cold war movies with the bridge, armed guards at each end, and a line of cars waiting to be given permission to pass, and one of which would undoubtedly be carrying a spy. In our case, a small sign simply stated that the road we had chosen was closed to all motorized vehicles. Why the electronic map could not have had a pop up sign with this information on it is still not clear to me. So we were forced to turn back; we took the third alternative (and I might add, the one that sported the sign that promised Kinzua State Park was a few miles ahead) to the front entrance of Kinzua Park. To our delight, we found the viaduct of renown.

Only one Gestapo agent barred our way from the not so holy (g)rail as we were interrogated as to the seating needs of our plethora of children. Our simple explanation that there was a one to one correspondence of seating apparatus to children of certain ages seemed to assuage the agent and we got off with a stern warning to utilize the seats to their capacity on future expeditions.

The viaduct was awesome. Standing at the south end and gazing northward, the standard gauge rail with intertwined safety rails converged to almost a single point at the opposite extremity. The bridge is over one third of a mile in length and 301 feet high. We chose the pedestrian method of crossing and paused our perambulations periodically to venture a nervous glance over the sturdy guard rail to see the gorge-eous panorama that stretched below.

We looked forward to a return visit on the Knox, Kane, and Kinzua RR excursion we were planning for a day later in the week. After spending some time viewing the historical recollections of the viaduct, and remarking about the unique geometric construction of the shelter (although it was not much of a shelter as it consisted of nine bridge beams bent inward at the top and welded together at a single point so that the union of any one beam with two from the opposing side would always form a Y shape, hence the name, Kinzua Wye-A-Duck) housing the historic facts and figures concerning the bridge, we headed south in search of bed for the night. Tuesday was a stay-at-home time. Exploring the area, preparing and consuming meals, and gathering wood for an evening fire were the tasks of the day. The youngest children were especially excited about the freedom they had to explore the forest behind the lodge. The collection of trails held great wonder as they discovered hiking sticks, a feather, and the jawbone of a long departed deer, not to mention a pile of stones that were used to fashion a fire ring for later enjoyment. That evening, we took a short drive along Hicks Run road to the other side of the mountain to see what we could see. It got dark quickly, but not before we saw several deer in the fields along the road. We returned to the lodge and proceeded to the newly constructed fire ring. The fire was a grand one and the starry night provided time for constellation gazing. Marshmallows on hand-fashioned sticks provided great enjoyment for the young and old. After the flames had died down, it was time to turn to the lodge for cool comfort and rest.

Wednesday was a day set aside for a boat ride on the Allegheny Reservoir. Wolf Run Marina was the destination. Our plans to leave around 10 AM were put aside in favor of eating lunch first. After lunch, various activities further delayed our departure. We got on the road around 3PM in our pair of vans. The town of Saint Mary's held unexpected developments for our caravan as the lead Voyager made an illegal left turn from the right-hand lane. The RAM van felt obligated to abandon the caravan and instead proceeded straight ahead as directed by the large and obtrusive overhead signposts. After an unsuccessful circuit of the area seeking a restoration of the caravan, the RAM headed north for the marina, hoping the other van would make the journey, even if by a circuitous route. Wolf Run Marina was a wonderful place, alive with boats and boats-persons. The water was teeming with carp of grandious proportions, obviously aware of the No Fishing in Marina signs posted near the dock areas. I found it intriguing that these fish seemed able to ascertain the meaning of these signs whereas many of the land creatures are required to decipher wordless signs like this one we spied in Coudersport on our Monday excursion as we sought gasoline and a room of rest. Apparently the inhabitants of the town of Coudersport are less literate than the fishies in the Allegheny Reservoir. Perhaps we should inquire of these fish as to how they spell the name of their river?

When the derailed voyager finally arrived, plans for the marine rental were finalized. We had to choose between two small boats, or one larger conveyance. Since the rowboats with outboard motors could hold only 45 passengers (which is the number we thought we heard, but later turned out to be 4 OR 5), we were forced to utilize one of the pontoon craft with a capacity of 11 or 12; at least this was the capacity as reported to us by the rental agent. Recalling the lessons we had learned earlier from the fish and library signs, we thought it best to verify the craft's payload limits for ourselves. After we had departed from the dock area we confirmed our suspicions that there must indeed be a literacy gap between the above-water inhabitants of that area and the carp. We discovered that we were one person over the pontoon boat's stated capacity of 10. Recognizing that most of our passengers were well below the average size and weight of the boaters we had observed earlier, and verifying the presence of the requisite number of safety seats and flotation devices, we continued on our way, confident that we could head off any attacks by aquacaous gestapo agents. All of the passengers under the age of 30 had an opportunity to pilot the craft and we even did some fishless fishing. Anna had the privilege of bring the boat into the dock at the conclusion of the voyage.

After we regained our land legs, we headed South, this time referring to a recently printed map to guide us quickly and efficiently home. Unfortunately, without the now expected capability to zoom in to any required level of detail, the lead van (now the RAM) was unable to confidently identify the desired short cut, so the caravan took the more obvious and well-marked, but circuitous route through Warren and then Kane. Kane was to be our departure point for the train ride we had been looking forward to for the entire week, so this afforded us the opportunity to locate the station and determine travel times. We had a delightful supper at Texas Lunch, then headed home to get adequate rest before our early wake up call required by our plans for the next day. Vacation was taking a toll on us all as we were tending towards waking up for lunch rather than breakfast.

Thursday morning we answered the call to rise in time to gain the train in Kane by 10:30 AM. We arrived at the station a little past the deadline, but still had enough time to get tickets and take notice of the hastily lettered sign taped outside the ticket window. Someone regretted to inform us that the motive power for the day would be diesel rather than steam! UGH! I had chosen this train specifically because it featured a real steam locomotive. I inquired if there was to be a suitable reduction in fare, but was informed by the station mistress that they usually increased the fare for diesel. Her argument was that it was much cleaner than steam - so I shut up in the face of such logic and paid the ransom for our block of reserved tickets.

The train was a bit late (although there was no explanation given and I do not know if this was due to the substitute motive power or to some other factors) and this afforded me the opportunity to lay several coins of small denomination on the tracks to be molded into souvenirs of our excursion. The engine came into view accompanied by the toot of its horn, crossed a short bridge, and rounded the curve into the station; the coins were flattened as expected and retrieved from the ballast after the last car had passed. The train was carrying only a few hardy passengers who had made the 8:30 boarding time at the end of the line known as Fishhook, or rather Marienville, PA, on the far side of the Allegheny (or is it Allegany) National Forest. We found seats after boarding in the rearmost car, one of an open-air variety. All of the seats faced backwards so we could see where we were coming from. The railcars were equipped with obnoxious LOUDSPEAKERS that caused unpleasant sensations in our ears when they were put to use. Between these occurrences, we happily listened to the clickity-clack and thrilled to the virtual reality of a steam engine's whistle as our ears fought off the other reality of a diesel's horn. We remarked to one another as to how bad the line was in this area as the cars swayed dangerously from side to side, carelessly tossing passengers attempting to walk through the aisle - it was enough to make a sober person appear to be quite inebriated. There was a dining car of sorts two cars forward of our position, and after tendering our tickets to the conductor, we ventured into the aisle to be tossed to and fro as we made our way from car to car, pausing to allow passengers returning to their seats past. Snacks were obtained on the return trek through the train as we could not resist the temptation to walk all of the way forward until we could see the engine. The rest of the trip to the viaduct was largely uneventful until the train stopped to couple on a caboose parked on a siding. The caboose is used for paying guests who are left on the siding overnight and retrieved the next day. The throwing of the switch, backing of the train, coupling, release of the brake, and slow pulling forward of the now lengthened train, and then the running brakeman as he leaped back onto the train after repositioning the switch as the train pulled forward, were all observed with great interest. In another instant, the train pulled up to the south end of the Kinzua Viaduct. After a short pause, the engine surged ahead and in no time at all we were looking out the windows, observing the same panoramic view we had seen on Monday, but this time from a few more feet in the air.

We had lunch on the dining car on the north side of the Viaduct, observing with some amusement a bicyclist who had crossed the viaduct a few minutes before the train, and now was forced to remain on that side of the bridge for an hour at which time the train would retrace its tracks and the viaduct would once again be open to the Park visitors. Of course, there was a sign at the other end of the bridge detailing this procedure for the benefit of such individuals, however since it had no pictorial components, it was likely disregarded as unimportant. The return trip to Kane was made in a closed coach, the kind with reversible seats and heavy glass windows that slide up and down if you have enough strength to compress the spring latches and lift. I had to reverse one of the seats for the benefit of the younger generation who had not yet acquired the knowledge of such possibilities. Upon departing the historic mode of transportation at the Kane station and watching the train cross the bridge and disappear around the curve into the woods, we returned to our vans where we found a leaflet under the window wipers directing us to the Holgate Toy Factory and Museum. So we headed into Kane to continue our adventure. At the Holgate Toy Museum and Factory (which turned out mostly to be an outlet store) the kids enjoyed playing with wooden and plastic toys in the store's play area and we all enjoyed watching the Neighborhood Trolley from Mister Roger's Neighborhood go across a scale model of the Kinzua Viaduct. After this time of relaxation we headed back to the lodge for another evening of rest.

Friday we planned to go horseback riding. The first two thirds of the day were spent around the lodge, hiking, bicycling, and relaxing. After supper, we headed across the mountain on Hicks Run road. Our destination was the town of Benezett (or Benezette - even the townsfolk argue as to the correct spelling - no wonder pictures are replacing words all around us). We watched for wildlife along the road and were not disappointed as we saw numerous deer and one black bear.

We arrived at the ranch and arranged for 4 horses and a 1.5 hour ride into the mountains. The riders were Anna, Jon, Liz, and myself. The owner was our guide along with his faithful dog. We rode on out of the driveway and across the road, but our way appeared barred by an impenetrable wall of undergrowth and tall trees. Our guide turned his horse into the wall, and as if by magic, the trees parted ever so little to disclose a rift wide enough for a horse and rider to pass through. The path led several hundred feet into the woods before opening onto a single lane road. Our ride took us over slag piles from old strip mines and through wooded areas consisting of both pine and deciduous trees. As we emerged from one particularly long stretch of forest into a large feeding plain, we saw a herd of deer opposite us. They quickly disappeared into the forest and our attention turned to another animal towards the middle of the meadow. It appeared to be one of the elk of Pennsylvania's elk herd. We walked the horses around the edge of the field and were able to see several large groups of elk before passing on towards the end of our ride. We had made a complete circuit around a rather large ridge and found ourselves heading back to the barn.

While we were out riding, the younger folk took turns riding around the barnyard on another horse. When that ended, there were stories in the van and walks with Uncle Philip.

Afterward, we drove to Euphoria for ice cream which we acquired from a small corner (or near to a corner) store. Afterwards we went back to the top of the hill, Hilltop Lodge, for our last night of bliss.

Saturday morning had finally come and we needed to pack, clean, and make our respective trips to our more permanent homes. We decided to eat lunch at a small restaurant in Euphoria, so we formed our last caravan for 1998 and headed down the hill for the last time, waving and saying goodbye to old Hilltop.

After lunch, we said our final goodbyes and settled in for the long trip home. All in all, it was a very enjoyable time. We all wish it might have lasted longer.