Abandoned Pennsylvania Turnpike (preliminary)

For me, the abandoned turnpike, a place where one can take a hike that was once the exclusive domain of automobiles, is the stuff of legend. Finding information about the location, and the use of it, is difficult to find because it is not really an official destination. In my explorations, I oscillate between the desire to explore a little-known place and acknowledgment of the transgression of property. Yet, the abandoned turnpike falls into a gray area, where the owners do not want to assume liability but make it clear that they will not press any claims on trespassing. There is no remuneration associated with the site; it is simply held in trust by a non-profit organization. It is not owned by a government agency and, therefore, not advertised as a tourist destination. As a hiking or walking locale, it is odd because the path is primarily asphalt, but it is remote and not easily accessible.

The sign identifying the abandoned turnpike

This former highway is a 13-mile section of the Pennsylvania turnpike that runs from Breezewood, Bedford County, to Waterfall in Fulton County. It has two access points at either end, both of which are not particularly well marked adding to a sense of discovery and adventure. In Breezewood, the trail can be accessed from a small parking area at the intersection of Tannery Road and Lincoln Highway (US30). After a short walk up a small, but steep hill, the overgrown asphalt of the former turnpike is readily apparent. 

The Pennsylvania Turnpike opened on 1 October 1940 and was considered one of the greatest highways in the world. Despite naysayers complaining the expense of the highway would be a boondoggle, the turnpike proved to be successful as the automobile industry developed in the 1940s and 1950s. Increased use led to traffic issues. Even though the tunnels were engineering marvels, typically traffic was reduced to one lane in each direction resulting in long delays. In the mid-1960s, construction began to alleviate the traffic by creating a new route rather than attempting to widen the tunnels. The section of the turnpike between Breezewood and Sideling Hill was closed on 26 November 1968, and traffic was diverted onto the current route of the turnpike. Since its closure, the abandoned turnpike has served many functions, most notably as training ground for construction workers, firefighters and the military, as well as a location for the post-apocalyptic 2009 film, The Road.  The abandoned turnpike was acquired by the Southern Alleghenies Conservancy, to create a bike and hike trail, in 2001.

The unincorporated town of Breezewood is an odd phenomenon. A federal law, that is no longer in force, insisted that federally funded highways could not lead directly to toll road; thus, motorists on Interstate I-70 must exit, transit through a maze of filling stations, hotels and restaurants before entering the Pennsylvania Turnpike. The rationale was to allow drivers the option not to use a toll road; however, today the lack of interchange creates a bizarre and confusing traffic jumble that needs to be navigated. If, as once happened to me, you are unlucky enough to have an accident or partial shutdown of the turnpike, Breezewood is a nightmare. 

The western entrance of Rays Hill Tunnel

After about a mile and a half walk from the Breezewood parking area, the tunnel traverses beneath Rays Hill and connects Bedford and Fulton counties. The tunnel is two thirds of a mile long and one can see the other end of the tunnel when you enter. Rays Hill was the shortest of the tunnels on the original turnpike and began as a railroad tunnel in the 1880s. The railroad was never completed, but it was used as the basis of the current tunnel. Despite its short length, it is still a creepy walk. Sounds echo in the tunnel, oak leaves that had fallen rattle through the tunnels mimicking the sounds of small creatures running through. The light from the far end of the tunnel creates the impression that you are closer to the end than you are.  

When we walked on the trail in late December, there were very few other people. We overtook two men who were accompanying three small children and I commented that it was an odd place to bring children to ride bikes and scooters. As we neared Rays Hill Tunnel, we met an older couple, not in the best of shape for walking, who asked if we knew of a way to drive to the tunnel. They wanted to bring their grandchildren but did not think they would want to walk to the tunnel.

A fellow traveller 

The eastern entrance of Rays Hill Tunnel

We walked through the tunnel, using the flashlight app on my phone about halfway through. Angie described the experience as “creepy.” The lack of light, the enclosure of the tunnel and the echoing of sound created a dissonance for us. We emerged on the other side of the tunnel alone and isolated, while at the same time hearing the sound of the turnpike clearly in the distance. I expected to see more wildlife, but it was primarily restricted to songbirds. After exploring for half a mile or so, we had hoped to see the other tunnel in the distance, we reentered the tunnel for the return trip. The two men and the kids were at the other end of the tunnel; there was a loud, persistent rumbling sound echoing through the tunnel. It was dark and hard to see more than a few feet in front of us with my phone. As the sound grew louder, a young boy riding a conveyance like a big wheel passed us, raising his left hand in a wave as he went by. He was far ahead of everyone else, determined to reach the end of the tunnel. Angie said that the little boy reminded her of the children in The Shining and made her feel odd. We remarked that it was uncommon for the boy allowed to travel so far without the immediate supervision of an adult. Of course, in a remote area like this, what was the harm? When we finally crossed paths with the two men, we commented how the little boy just gave a wave and kept going. The father noted that was his nature, off on his own to explore and roam without fear.

A derelict house in Waterfall

Finding the eastern terminus of the abandoned in the community of Waterfall is not particularly easy. After having lunch in Breezewood, it was an approximate 20-minute drive to the other end of the abandoned turnpike. While part of the allure of exploring the abandoned turnpike is its derelict status, driving the backroads in and around this area makes you realize that it is not only the turnpike that is derelict. Several houses along US30 are abandoned and in the process of decomposition. The deindustrialization, and the subsequent depopulation, of this portion of Pennsylvania is evident and compelling.

When we arrived at the parking area in Waterfall, I had some trepidation about walking this portion of the turnpike. As we drove up, two men and five pre-teens were walking toward their car from the trail. One of the men, wearing a baseball style cap and a beard, was attaching a hatchet to his belt. Great – ax-murders, I thought. I fumbled for my camera, and hid Angie’s wallet, while she asked about how long it would take to get to the tunnel. The man with the hatchet was very nice and explained how long it was and that it was an easy walk. In his defense, once we started walking there was a small pine tree across the lanes where traffic had once been. It appears that he cleared a path for people to walk through. Nonetheless, it is a bit disconcerting to see someone walking toward you with an ex in a remote part of Pennsylvania. Perhaps all those stories we told each other around the campfire as kids affects our views of the world.

The eastern entrance of Sideling Hill Tunnel 

Sideling Hill Tunnel is a 1.2 mile walk from the parking area. Substantially longer than Rays Hill, it was impossible to see the other end of the 1.3-mile tunnel on December afternoon when we visited. The remoteness of Sideling Hill means that the graffiti is far less and there is an unnerving feel to both the walk and the tunnel. Standing at the entrance to the tunnel, feeling the cold air blow out, you stare at the blackness of the tunnel.