Pennsylvania Section 13 Appalachian Trail 2023: Notes and Journal

 

July

On a Friday evening, I lectured to a group of students from Europe on the politics of walking and the history and culture significance of the Appalachian Trail. In such lectures I highlight the restorative mental health mental benefits of walking/hiking, and then note that such activities can be difficult for many to enjoy because of discrimination, social stigma, and the barrier of transportation. Two days later, I led the group of about two dozen on a short one mile out, one mile back on Big Pine Flats, from Shippensburg Road. It was a beautiful, but sticky morning, and as we started down the trail I had many questions about hiking, walking in Europe and the United States. A woman from Finland regaled me with stories about hiking and gathering berries in the wilderness; a young man from Spain was encouraging me to walk El Camino. As we neared our turnaround point, I was in deep conversation but could not help but notice that the skies were getting darker. Within minutes of beginning the return trip it began to rain. A gentle, steady rain turned into a deluge. There was no way around it, we were all going to be soaked. I was a little worried about how the group was going to take it. But to my relief, as the rain came down at its hardest, many in the group began singing the chorus to, “Here Comes the Sun,” a reminder of the importance of music and group activities. In the following days I saw many of the students on campus and at various events. Several told me what a great time they had on the hike, and how much fun it was to see a small portion of the Appalachian Trail.

Students hiking on the trail

A few days later I was driving to the Rocky Knob parking along Ridge Road, an unimproved forest road, primarily gravel, that is the backbone of transportation on South Mountain. Unlike many other forest roads in Michaux State Forest, Ridge Road is extremely passable and easy to use. While not a road most people would accept in a village or town, it is comparatively heavily trafficked. A doe and fawn ran across in front of me just as I was pulling into the parking area. After my walk, a pair of wild turkeys sauntered across the road as I was pulling out of the parking area. It is probably why so many people just take a drive up to Ridge Road. It is a place where one can glimpse wildlife from the comfort of one’s car.

Accessing the Appalachian Trail from the Rocky Knob trail, I heard a persistent chirp, unfamiliar, according to my app it was a hooded warbler. I stood and tried to find it, thought I caught a glimpse of it, but ultimately unsuccessful in identifying it. It remains off my bird’s “life list” because I have not seen it yet. We all have our own personal rules about collecting and cataloging.

I am particular to pine trees, especially groves of pine trees. The smell of the trees and the sound of the wind through the pine needles is evocative. It drowns out all other sounds, creating a white noise and focusing the mind on the present. During the winter, the sound of whooshing sounds like cold to me. (old movies) The tactile feel of crushed pine needles while walking is especially appealing. If you step off the trail and walk among a stand of pines, the needs cushion your walk. The trees, even though the needles are so thin, provide enough shade that nothing grows beneath.

Pine thicket between Rocky Knob Trail and Ridge Road

I have fond memories of camping in the pines at a scout camp, called Horine, in the Jefferson County Forest outside of Louisville. If one did due diligence by moving the branches and pinecones, the needles offered a comfortable mattress for a night’s sleep. In the winter, they provided insulation. But the novice who tried to keep a fire going with pine needles produced a lot of smoke, and not much heat.

The problem with getting to Milesburn Cabin, at least on foot on the Appalachian Trail, is that it is a steep descent from either direction (Means Hollow Road or Ridge Road). Walking south on the AT, crossing Ridge Road, steep decline. I spent most of the time thinking about having to go back up the hill. I judge myself to be in reasonable shape for a person my age, but I do have to stop for a rest if the hill is particularly steep. About halfway up from the cabin to the road, I am breathing hard and feel my heart pounding in my chest. With temperatures in the low 80s, I am moist all over from perspiration. “Is this worth? Is it what I should be doing,” I ask myself.

Milesburn Cabin

Half a mile from the car, I hear distant, but persistent, thunder. It is isolated showers, but strong enough to make me abandon any thoughts of going further this day. The oncoming weather system portends a change in the weather for the worse. The merciless heat that has been punishing the southern part of the United States is finally making its way north. Record high temperatures for the date are set to follow in central Pennsylvania. It will likely be several days before I return to the AT.

Driving on Means Hollow Road, a steep, unimproved road, can be harrowing especially when confronted with on-coming vehicles. On the side of the road, the erosion ruts are deep enough that I would worry about getting my Subaru Forester out without relying on a tow truck or wrench.

It is a beautiful but hazy day. The haze, not all that uncommon for central Pennsylvania comes come either pollution or smoke; either way it is not good. The wildfires in Canada has had a dramatic impact on air quality in the Northeast this summer. I missed the worst stretch of wildfire smoke in June, but the accounts were grim. A dense fog of smoke and haze settled over the Cumberland Valley, and elsewhere, leading to days of low visibility, closed windows, sequestering inside, and concern about the respiratory health of friends, family, and pets.

I found a quarter while walking on the trail. As a kid it was always exciting to have a “found money” experience, no matter how small the amount. Finding some money on the ground could mean some candy or a drink. As I got older, it became more of a curiosity. While a graduate student in Oxford, Ohio once, I picked up a penny walking to campus. It turned out to be an Indian Head penny from the 1880s. With the use of credit cards and electronic payments, it is rare to find money on the ground. At some point there were likely hikers who would have carried a quarter just in case of making an emergency telephone call from a pay phone – something that no longer exists. Many of my female friends were told to always carry a quarter in case of an emergency. Today, mobile phones, GPS watches, and other devices have rendered that advice archaic. There is not even a pay phone at the general store at Pine Grove Furnace, much less anywhere else along Section 13 of the AT.

As I walked farther south on the AT from Stillhouse Hollow Road, the trail seemed more remote, and I saw a lot fewer people. Even during the hottest afternoon, I come across deer who are as startled to see me as I am of them. The power lines that run up and over the mountain crackle with electricity as I walk beneath. It is eerie and haunting.

There are many quiet places along the trail where there is no sound except the wind and distant overhead airplane. Then, suddenly, come upon a place where there are a ton of birds all busy and alarmed that a human has intruded on their solitude. Maybe because there is an opening in the canopy that allows for good hiding places close to the ground.

There are several strands of dead white ash trees in Michaux State Forest. Several places along the trail, one walks through a dead stand, victims of the Emerald Ash Borer an invasive species that is devastating the species. The snags, stand of dead trees, are visually captivating. and will last up to a decade before the weather and forest reclaim them. In the relatively nearby Chesapeake and Ohio Canal National Historical Park, about 67 percent of ash trees had perished by 2021; in Manassas Battlefield Park, 92 percent.[1] Because of recent forest fires around the world, including the fires in remote northern Canada and the fire in Maui within weeks of first recording the white ash trees in my journal, I ponder the possibilities of a fire on South Mountain. There are periodic control burns to minimize the risk and potential damage. But most of us along the east coast of the US do not really think about what a massive forest fire might look like. I suspect most politicians do not either. Invariably, my mind wanders back to the “Finns rake the forest” controversy in 2018.[2]  

 

Dead ash trees

Just north of Quarry Gap Shelter, a scree full of rocks covered in lichen. A blue jay silently plays hide-and-seek with me. Normally, it is a species that is quite loud and boisterous but perhaps this one did not expect to see a human.

About halfway through the long climb back to Stillhouse Hollow Road, a doe jumped out and crossed the trail about 15-20 yards ahead of me. Deer are plentiful in this area of South Mountain, that is probably why hunting is popular here during the fall. On my drive up to the trail, as my car slowly navigated the gravel road at 20mph, a doe looked at me from the edge and judged she could make it across safely. I continued to be cautious, and as I got closer, I saw her fawn desperately trying to figure out how to catch up to mom. Later, another deer startled me while on the trail. It jumped out and crossed the trail just about 25 yards ahead of me. I grabbed my camera in case a fawn, which typically has their spots this time of year, was close behind. I waited for a few minutes, but it was to no avail.

Two things in this area remain to ponder and research: Why is it called “Methodist Hill”? Why “Haunted Hollow Road”?

 

Mid-August

After a two-week sojourn in Upstate New York, I resumed my exploration of section 13 of the Appalachian Trail in mid-August. Typically, one of the hottest times of the year, the two days after our return were in the 70s with beautiful blue skies. I had a replacement pair of Keen hiking boots, purchased in Skaneateles, which contrary to the advice that they need “breaking-in” are surprisingly comfortable. Hiking boots are one of the expensive accoutrements of hiking. Technically not absolutely necessary, but close. The rough terrain of the AT makes high quality hiking boots very desirable. Since I need to replace my pair every 900 miles or so, I am buying a pair about every six months.

My starting point is Quarry Gap Shelter for the walk into Caledonia State Park to finish the southern half of Section 13. It is the only part of the trail that I am not doing an out-and-back. Angie drops me off at a remote location on Quarry Gap Road so that I can meet the Appalachian Trail. Shortly after she pulls away, an older man asked me directions to the reservoir from Locust Gap Road. He said that he used to run from here to there and was the Locust Grove Trail what he should take. I did not think so, but confessed I was not sure. I tried to show him the map on my app, but the connection was bad, and I had only downloaded the area where I was walking. He was dismissive of technology (and I understand).  He called me “brother” several times over the course of our conversation – I took this to mean that he was once, or still is, a hippy. I like the term, sometimes I think we should use it more in our daily conversations.

Decoration at Quarry Gap Shelter

It is a tough descent into, or ascent out of, Caledonia State Park. Once in the park, it is very nice. The trail meanders through a scree, with lichen-covered rocks and small tributaries of water. The pine trees overhead trap the moisture, so the mosquitoes are persistent even if my repellent prevents bites. But arriving at the state park is a relief. The State of Pennsylvania acquired the land for the park in 1903 and soon a trolley line ran from Chambersburg to ferry people for leisure. More than a hundred years later, Caledonia remains popular. On a summer Saturday afternoon in August find the park filled with people picnicking, swimming, meandering, and playing in the creek. The AT crosses a bridge for Conocoheague Creek and then Trolley Car Trail. Section 13’s southern terminus is a daunting crossing of US Route 30.

Crossing Conocoheague Creek in Caledonia State Park

Trolley Car Trail

The beginning of each semester is stressful and a little sad. It is a reminder of all the things, both personal and professional, I did not do during the break and a realization that I was soon to be flooded with new tasks to perform.  A last long walk before the start of the semester is ritual. An acknowledgement that my discretionary time is changing and a chance to find some serenity before the deluge of meetings and responsibilities. I returned to Shippensburg Road and began the journey northward toward the northern end of Section13, Pine Grove Furnace. 

Many people access the trail from the parking lot on Shippensburg Road; it is convenient with an iconic sign. The walk north is relatively easy for the first mile or so, through a pine thicket and across a nice creek. About half a mile in, the halfway point of the AT is denoted. That demarcation is a bit fluid because the trail changes yearly. But within this area, through hikers know that their journey has reached a milestone. That which is common to us, we often do not pay attention to. For example, I often hear something rustling along the trail, wait and watch in expectation, only to find that is just a grey squirrel. Somehow, I still marvel at white-tailed deer or a common bird species, but a lowly squirrel, who often robs the birdfeeders in our backyard is not afforded the same attention. Yet, on this day, I Identified a large squirrel nest at the top of a tree, something that is easy to do in the winter, but they are well-camouflaged in the summer.

Walking near Dead Woman Hollow Road, a name that prompts consideration, I heard voices behind me having rather loud conversation. I sped up, thinking I could divert onto the nearby road and allow them to pass. Just as I did, however, I saw something rather large fly along the trail and then off to the left to land in the treetops. Assuming it was a hawk, I crept up to a spot to reconnoiter. Perfectly framed between two branches was a great-horned owl, it saw me, but I slowly reached for my camera and aimed, the automatic focus just coming into clarity when someone ran up beside me and said and excitedly, “What is it?!” The owl flew off before I could press down for a photo. As the National Wildlife Federation notes, the great-horned is one of the most common and widely distributed owls in North America, but because they are nocturnal and excellent at camouflage, they are rarely seen.[3] She said to me after the bird flew away, in a softer voice, “Ooh, sorry. What was it?” But her friend, who was somewhat behind, was yelling, “What is it?” too. We exchanged pleasantries, but I was disappointed. One of the women said as they moved on, “Have a good hike!” I wanted to reply, “How is that possible now? I am going to be thinking of that owl the rest of the hike.” But begrudgingly muttered something to the effect, “you too.” The two women hiked merrily away. I slowed down, meandered around the trail a bit, desperately and unrealistically hoping for a return of the owl, but more so to let them get far ahead of me.

Beyond Dead Woman Hollow Road, there is an area that has had a recent controlled burn. Very few tall trees, but quite a bit of ground vegetation. It is a pleasant walk, with beautiful crystal blue skies. It is an unusual August day in that respect; most of the time August days can be very hazy in central Pennsylvania. My birding app tells me that the bird song I hear is from red-eyed vireos but I cannot see them. I caught up to the two young women who I encountered where the trail that leads to Anna Michener Cabin, a retreat built in 1966 in honor of a long time supporter of the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club,  diverges from the AT. They were resting, I kept walking toward the cabin about a quarter mile farther. It will be where I will leave off for a few weeks until I can get the semester underway.  

 

Anna Michener Cabin

September

It has been hot. Typically, in early September it can be very warm, but to have five consecutive days of highs in the 90s is not normal. One evening I walked in the neighborhood at about 8PM, roughly half an hour after sunset, and it was 84°. I have been working on a project, where I could use a mental break, take a walk, and it has been too hot just for a fifteen-minute walk during the day. I have missed the long contemplative walks of the summer. I imagine why this is why the beginning of the academic year can be particularly difficult.

The end of summer is quickly approaching on South Mountain. The black gum trees have begun to turn to red; some sassafras trees have followed suit. I am starting at Michener Cabin and working my way north. It is a Friday afternoon, the weekend after Labor Day, with a threat of rain, which holds off. There are dirt bikes on the forest roads, occasionally disturbing the peace of the trail but I met no one on the trail. 

Black gum tree

Most of the northern part of Section 13 is best accessed by Ridge Road, the primary forest road through Michaux State Forest. There are a myriad of accessible roads and what I refer to as “ghost roads,” outlined, rough roads where logging truck might have once traversed. It is easy to get confused in what it not quite wilderness, but out of reach of cellphone service and immediate help.

Along several of the forest roads atop South Mountain, there are plenty of milkweed plants. That is the plant that is essential to the monarch butterfly life cycle. In September, monarchs are not hard to find around southern Pennsylvania but as their numbers continue to decrease, I have been more conscious about increasing rare sightings. I once could walk out to my backyard this time of year and wait. Eventually, a majestic monarch, taking a circuitous flightpath would eventually alight at one of our butterfly bushes. The last couple of years, however, that has not been the case. Driving on Ridge Road a monarch fluttered in front of my car. I slowed down, just as I would for any animal. But there is a sense that I am seeing something increasing rare too.

Milkweed plant

I examined the milkweed plants, usually in vain, for signs of monarchs.  But found instead a world of other creatures. Not many creatures are able to feast on the plant. The sticky white substance that gives the plant its name is toxic to most, hence the insects one finds are highly specialized. My initial thought was that the insects that I found on the plant, like milkweed bugs, would be in competition with the monarchs. But the insects use the plants at different times and different stages.[4] While I did have trouble finding any monarch caterpillars, I was able to locate a few milkweed tussock caterpillar, which will eventually become a milkweed tiger moth. These interesting “hairy” caterpillars, strikingly black, yellow, and white, contradictorily emerge into rather moth with large wings that hide an orange-colored torso with black dots. 

Milkweed bugs

Milkweed tussock caterpillar

Snakes are often misunderstood, and although I give them healthy respect, I am always on the outlook for them. I have seen timber rattler on the Appalachian trail, in fact one scared Cody immensely several years ago. He ran off so hard and long, I was worried I was not going to be able to find him at first. More commonly found in this area is the black rat snake. A rather docile creature that often looks like a downed tree branch across the trail. I had not seen any while on the trail this summer until I came across two, on consecutive days, the second week in September. It was humid and hot when I was near a damp, narrow place on the trail, in my mind asking why I was hiking on such an uncomfortable day, when I saw something on the trail. As I glanced down, I realized what I was stepping near, and I jumped back more in concern that I was going to step on it than in fear. When I jumped, it recoiled in horror. It ruined our moment, and it did not want to stick around for a photo session. The next day, I had more of a warning. It was on an old forest road near halfway spring. I knew instantly that the familiar squiggly branch was a rat snake. Rain was impending, but I took some time to take a couple of photographs as it meandered across the road. I like to think it too was look for shelter before the evening showers began.

Ratsnake

Walking through the woods and meadows of the Appalachian trail, I have seen an increasing number of spotted lanternflies, the dreaded invasive species that threatens to decimate orchards, lumber, and other agricultural industries. The insect was first discovered in Pennsylvania nine years ago, in 2014.[5] Since that time, they have become increasingly common. The initial message to people was that if a lanternfly was spotted, one should immediately kill it, “if you see it, squash it.”[6] But hikes on the Appalachian Trail in 2023 have demonstrated the futility of that strategy. As I walked near Camp Michaux, I would take a step and a cloud of twelve to fifteen lanternflies would jump and fly out of the way. Another five paces or so, the same thing would happen again. The invasive species, and the associated problems, might be endemic soon.

Ruby-throated hummingbirds are plentiful in the eastern United States but are difficult to discern while walking in the woods. They are elusive and small, darting through our peripheral vision so that we are not sure if we have seen the small bird, or it is a rather large insect. Walking through a semi-remote area of the trail, on a Sunday afternoon, I spotted a hummingbird hovering about two feet above a large patch of jewelweed, eyeing me warily. It was a momentary encounter. I slowed down to observe, and the bird meandered away slowly, probably to find another succulent blossom and avoid any danger I might pose. Jewelweed, or spotted touch-me-not, are quite common during the latter half of the summer. Growing in shaded areas, the bright orange flower is delicate and interesting. With several pollinators around, a patch of jewelweed is always a place to stop and look for something interesting.

Jewelweed

We can observe hummingbirds more closely at the feeder that is just outside our dining room window. They are compellingly fierce birds, continuously defending their feeders. I am certain that there is a nest in our apple tree just a few yards away from the feeder. While there is a temptation to see if I can find their small nest, disturbing it would not be the neighborly thing to do. But as the weather turns cooler, and the hummingbirds head south, I will have a look to see if I can find the tiny nest before it disappears from the ravages of winter.

I completed the last portion of Section 13, from halfway Spring to PA 233 near Pine Grove Furnace, on a bright and sunny Friday afternoon in mid-September. Autumn in Central Pennsylvania is glorious and many people, sensing a relief from the summer’s heat and the joys of brightly colored forest were enjoying the weather. As I walked, although I had to pay attention to the rocky path, I found my mind was drifting in tangential exploration of ideas and whimsy.

Less than fifteen minutes into my ascent toward Camp Michaux, I met two hikers coming the opposite way. As the path was rather narrow at that point, and they were on the descent, I stepped to the side to let them pass. The two women, who were obviously on a long walk, stopped to ask how far they were from the park. I typically do not initiate conversations with female hikers because I do not want to inadvertently seem creepy and add any stress or concern to their outing. Not far, I casually said. The women who appeared to be more tired asked wearily, “Can we make it in an hour?” They were much closer than they realized, I got my phone out to make sure, but they were only 0.6 miles from the general store at Pine Grove Furnace. The other woman suggested that they could slow down a bit; obviously someone was meeting them for a pickup.

As I neared PA 233 on my return trip, the shadows getting longer and the sun dimmer in the late afternoon, I passed through an area where at least a hundred common grackles were roosting. For those of us who have grown up with Hitchcock movies, it is a bit unsettling sometimes. But they are likely getting ready for an autumn migration, albeit a short trip perhaps for these birds.

Walking back into Pine Grove Furnace, the general store where through-hikers traditionally eat a half gallon of ice cream to maintain weight during their long walk on the AT is closed for the season. The sun, low in the sky in mid-September, is shining brightly off the historic stone buildings in the park. The parking lot was not busy, but was bustling with people meeting each other, preparing for a weekend hike, getting rides, and meeting one another. The time of day seemed appropriate for finishing the section, and the activities observed were emblematic reminders that the trail never ends.

The Appalachian Trail Museum at Pine Grove Furnace

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[1] Crystal Chen, “Ash Tree Update 2021,” National Park Service, https://www.nps.gov/articles/000/ash-tree-update-2021.htm. See also: https://emeraldashborerinsouthdakota.sd.gov/PDF/How-To-Identify-an-Ash-Tree-Infested-by-EAB_06-2001-2018.pdf.

[2] Martin Belam, “Make America Rake Again: Finland baffled by Trump forest fire raking claim,” The Guardian, 19 November 2018, https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2018/nov/19/make-america-rake-again-finland-trump-forest-fire.

[3] National Wildlife Federation, “Great Horned Owl,” https://www.nwf.org/Educational-Resources/Wildlife-Guide/Birds/Great-Horned-Owl.

[4] https://hort.extension.wisc.edu/articles/common-milkweed-insects/.

[5] “Pest Alert: Spotted Lanternfly (Lycorma delicatula),” United States Department of Agriculture, August 2019, https://www.aphis.usda.gov/publications/plant_health/alert-spotted-lanternfly.pdf

[6] Rachel Ramirez, “Spotted lanternflies are thriving in the Northeast. Scientists fear they could spread farther,” CNN, 24 September 2022, https://www.cnn.com/2022/09/24/us/spotted-lanternfly-habitat-expanding-climate/index.html.

Keuka Outlet Trail

 

Seneca Falls 

Waterfalls abound in the Finger Lakes Region, with some being hard to access. But the 6.4-mile Keuka Outlet Trail makes access to two falls relatively easy. The trail, which is a former towpath and short-line railroad track, runs between the towns of Penn Yan and Dreden, New York, and links Keuka and Seneca Lakes. It follows, closely, the course of the Crooked Lake Canal, which was built between 1830 and 1833 and its name was derived from the former name of Keuka Lake. The canal used wooden locks that necessitated replacements with stone eventually. In the early 19th century, several mills dotted the outlet and sparked economic development in the region. The canal was abandoned in 1877 and later replaced by a rail line that followed much the same route. It was destroyed by the flooding that resulted from Hurricane Agnes in 1972.

Our walk along the trail was nice, but a particularly wet and muggy week meant that there were bugs aplenty. Our trust bug spray prevented bites, but not the bothersome swarms in front of our faces. We parked in the lot for Seneca Falls and walked the quarter mile upstream to see it. Remnants of equipment and machinery were prominent but did not detract from the view. Such a nice day, we decided to walk the 1.25 miles the opposite way to see Cascade Fall. The cyclists going downhill at high speeds were sometimes annoying to avoid, but as the path went from asphalt to gravel this became less of a problem. As we emerged from the canopy into the park, the clouds had increased. A man who was standing beside his bike gave me one of those looks and nodded to the sky behind me. It was dark and foreboding. I acknowledged the looming rain and shrugged my shoulders. We took a few pictures. A light rain started to fall, which quickly turned to a downpour. We sought refuge in a picnic shelter for about 20 minutes until the rain passed.

Whistle signal along the short-line railroad track that was destroyed in 1972

Cascade Falls

Prior to the arrival of Europeans, the territory was home to the Haudenosaunee (as the Seneca called themselves). They were the western most group of what was called the Iroquois Confederacy, and are matrilineal based society. Their claim to the oldest participatory democracy, one studied by Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson, is well supported. Some Haudenosaunee women befriended Elizabeth Stanton, Matilda Gage, and Lucretia Mott, and were thought to have had an influence on early suffragist organizations that would coalesce in nearby Seneca Falls.

The farmstand at the Orr-chards 

After our walk, we followed Outlet Road west and stopped at the picturesque Orr-chard’s Produce Stand to purchase honey and have some nostalgia. Although there were drinks and refreshments for sale, we had plenty of water and were anxious to have lunch in Penn Yan. Yet, the charm of the stand could not keep us from stopping.

We had a late lunch at the Keuka Restaurant in Penn Yan, which served a very good lobster bisque. The town, where some people lived in some desperate house, was overall a quaint little place. Its rather odd named comes from Pennsylvania and Yankee, because the early residents migrated there from the state to the south and the New England region.

 

Marple

 

Leaving the train in Marple station, a light rain, and an even more ominous sky, suggested that it was not going to be a great day for photographs. Reaching into my bag for a raincoat for the half mile walk to my B&B for the night, I considered my options. First, after dropping my luggage off, I could make my way into town, find a coffee shop, and wait for opportune periods, when the rain let up, for exploration and walks. After checking in and starting back out for the walk into town, two women who had just checked out offered me a ride into town because of the rain. They were on their way to see one’s son, and thought it was interesting that I had come to walk. It was nice of them to offer the ride, a brave gesture to offer a lone man a ride. Perhaps the driver lost her nerve, or that she was a nervous driver, when she suggested I get out near the canal because she was concerned about driving into the town center. The rain had become heavier in the meantime, and there was no shelter near the canal. Luckily, I was on Stockport Road, a primary thoroughfare and within ten minutes I found a Costa coffee shop to decamp, have an americano, and wait for a break in the rain.

Walking a canal in Europe or North America is immersive into nature and a location’s history from roughly two hundred years ago. Often, we believe that the world two centuries ago was a simpler time and life was both pastoral and better. Likewise, we tend to believe that we are smarter than those who proceeded us by a couple of centuries. While some of their beliefs may seem strange today, perhaps this is a source of discontent. But the notion that times were simpler and that we are smarter are not true. Life in the early nineteenth the century was brutal, and full of squalor. Look no further than the writings of Charles Dickens, Elizabeth Gaskell, and Thomas Malthus. 

Marple Aqueduct from below

Equally intriguing is the supposition that we today are smarter than our predecessors. Perhaps this is because of our access to instant information. The powerful computer that many of us carry around in our pockets gives us a sense that we are smart. Consider, however, the Marple Aqueduct, constructed in the 1790s, without the benefit of computers or heavy equipment, a hundred feet above the River Goyt. Looking at the aqueduct and the nearby railroad bridge, I am reminded of what I do not know. The knowledge and skill required for such an undertaking is immense, something that those who use these places but do not think about. The train ride from Manchester to New Mill traversed the railroad bridge and allowed for a glimpse of the aqueduct. Flying along at 60 miles an hour, or so, I suspect that most people never considered that the 120-year-old bridge was what kept the train from plummeting into the valley below. 

Located about a mile north of town on the canal, the aqueduct is a restored treasure, carrying the water of the Peak Forest Canal across the river valley. The local mills and factories depended on the canals for transporting their products around the country and out to the ports. Walking along the canals, many decades after they ceased commercial operations, I cannot but help but romanticize that portion of nineteenth century transportation. While the pollution and working conditions of the mills were awful, transporting goods around the country via canals evokes a pastoral setting, manure from the donkeys aside. The relentless deadlines faced by semi-tractor trailers (lorries) and the intimidating driving on the same highways feels manic. 

Half a dozen eggs for £1.50 

While the aqueduct may attract the attention, part of the allure of canal walks is to see where people live juxtaposed with the flowers and animals that inhabit the canal. Some people sell excess eggs, others nurture the aquatic birds, while still others develop intricate and beautiful gardens that benefit the pollinators. Along British canals in particular, the romance of living and exploring on a narrow canal boat intrigues many. Walking or riding along the canals allows time to observe, contemplate, and explore. 

Moorhen snacking on a fish

Kinder Trespass Trails

 

When reading and researching about the right to roam and access to nature, I came across the story of the Mass Trespass at Kinder Scout. What happened during the trespass is not generally debated; however, the effects are. Regardless if it was a direct effect, many today will credit the trespass with laying the groundwork for securing access to nature and footpaths for everyone in Britain. It is also argued that the trespass created the impetus for the creation of the National Park Act in 1949, as well as the Countryside and Right of Way Act (CROW Act) of 2000.

On Sunday, 24 April 1932, a group of young factory workers, primarily from Manchester made their way to the small village of Hayfield to asset a right to walk on the high moorlands. Organized by the Communist Party, about 400 assembled at a quarry in prelude to a mass civil disobedience event against wealthy landowners who denied access to the moorland in favor grouse hunting. The previous Sunday, activists distributed leaflets urging other ramblers to “take action to open up the fine country at present denied to us.” Police officers were called upon to warn away the potential trespassers to no avail.

At the appointed time, the rebel ramblers set off, singing the “Red Flag” and the “International” during their walk according to the Manchester Guardian. When gamekeepers confronted the ramblers, scuffles and fights broke out. Yet, restraint on both sides prevented further disturbances. Once on the moorland, accounts note that the ramblers adhered scrupulously to path. In what today might sound quaint, the group stopped for tea and a hat was passed to take up a collection to help defray the cost for anyone who would be fined. Eventually, as the group reentered Hayfield, police arrested six leaders, including Benny Rothman, sentencing five of the trespassers to six months in prison. The substantial, what might be considered excessive, judgment led to greater sympathy in the court of public opinion.

The Kinder Trespass was not the first time Hayfield was at the center of debate over access to footpaths and nature. In 1897, the Peak District and North Counties Footpath Society secured permanent access to what was popularly known as the Snake Inn Footpath from Hayfield to Glossop. Instead of the confrontation tactics that would be used three decades later, the Society, which was created for purpose a few years earlier, used consultations and negotiations to secure the right of passage. A sign erected in 1906, on the edge of Hayfield, commemorates the late nineteenth century success. The Peaks and Northern Footpath Society continues to exist as a voluntary organization actively monitoring, protecting, and improving footpaths in the region. They organize hikes and help maintain trails, even prodding local councils to provide maintenance so that people can walk the trails.

Access to nature and the right to roam were severely curtailed by a series of legislative acts of Parliament from the mid-eighteenth century through the mid-nineteenth century, collectively known as the Enclosures. With each of the acts, roughly 4000 in total, Parliament sought to rationalize British agricultural lands by designating publicly owned land, used collectively by peasants, private property to be owned and maintained by a single person. The Enclosures were meant to make farming in Britain more efficient by creating larger tracks of land, rather than a patchwork of tracks, and to establish a hierarchical decision-making process. Before the enclosures, decisions on what and when to plant were made collectively, hence everyone had a say and negotiations could take some time and were not particularly efficient. Effectively, the parliamentary acts displaced peasants from the land, denying them not only the opportunity to grow crops on their own, but also the right to gather food, such as berries and mushrooms, and firewood, the principal energy source of the day, from the forest. Instead, the land became private, usually in the hands of a single person, who could reserve land for their own use. Hence, landowners would use the lands that were enclosed for hunting and/or recreation.

 

Kinder Lodge, Hayfield

Today, Hayfield embraces the legacy of the 1932 Kinder Trespass. Explanation waysides and historical markers dot the village. At the site of the former train station, where many factory workers from Manchester and other industrial towns would have alighted to enjoy the moorlands, the region’s walking trails are enumerated and explained. During the summer months of the 1920s and 1930s, upwards of 10,000 people would descend on the village for recreation and fresh air. Since the closure of the train station in 1970, buses serve as the primary public transportation and the bus stop is located where those workers and their families would have started and finished their days.

The history of Hayfield stretches back two thousand years, as the Roman road between Buxton and Glossop ran through the village. Although a refuge for working class people, Hayfield once had a woolen factory of its own in the eighteenth century, which brought it a modicum of prosperity. Part of the charm of the village is its old-world feel. 

Hayfield with the store on the right 

Library

The Old Hayfield Grammar School was founded in 1604 and the school building (pictured) was constructed in 1719. 

Charming as it is, Hayfield can be rather limited to the traveler without an automobile. The post-pandemic contraction of labor meant that, like many places in Europe and North America, there were not enough workers to keep many establishments open. On a Monday evening, after a full day of walking and exploring, I found that none of the restaurants or pubs in the village was serving food. I had the choice of taking the bus, or walking, to New Mill or stopping in the village store for hummus and bread sticks. I chose the latter, reasoning that breakfast would come soon enough.

When traveling, the local library is one of my preferred destinations. It is a place where one can orient oneself and learn a little bit about the local area. Given the history of Hayfield, I assumed that the local history section would have some nuggets of information to inspire more investigations and explorations. But the library, tidy and efficient as it was, had rather limited holdings and focused primarily on meeting the borrowing needs of locals rather than serving as a node of information. There was no local history room or section. The information posted around town on information boards for tourists were more than what was contained in the library. 

Sign turn off to Snake Inn Trail

Phonebooth at the Trespass Cottage

Kinder Road

The plaque commemorating the events of 1932 at Bowden Bridge Car Park, erected in 1982 on the fiftieth anniversary

The reservoir, constructed in 1912 

The bridge and footpath that leads to Kinder Scout

The peak of Kinder Scout on the left 

Local family

Shooting Cabin

Meadow Pipit

Old signpost, in the middle of the moor, that is very helpful in navigating the paths

Lambs frolicking on the Snake Inn Path

Twenty trees, a copse in the field along the Snake Inn path - on guidebook noted that there are only nineteen trees

The gate to the highland

Descending back into Hayfield

The historical marker on Kinder Road where Snake Inn Path leads to trail. It is also marks the approximate place where the trespassers were arrested in 1932