Maps on (In) the Mind

 Whenever there is the possibility of a trip approaching, I tend to go to my paper resources, my maps. Rather than allowing a computer to generate a route for me, I prefer to look over the area between the two basic points, the beginning and end, and then decide on a route myself. These directions are often determined by roads that I’ve never seen or driven on.

    What-ever prerequisites I have, a map is almost always employed. Many times it won’t even be a physical map but one of the many stored in my memory.

    Thinking about going from one known spot to another will bring to mind landmarks seen on previous trips. Things which have lodged in my memory, perhaps by their uniqueness, their photographic potential, their history or even geocaches which might be hidden near-by.

    Names of people and towns often slip through my grey matter like water between pebbles, here one minute and gone the next. I envy people with good memories. Thankfully, the maps in my mind have remained…so far.

    I picture maps as so much more than just paper directions. I see them in many of the things we do daily.

    The recipe for my Scalloped Potatoes is a map which takes me from the shelves in my pantry to the kitchen and finally to my dining room table. The readings at Church are maps that hopefully take me safely through the journey of my life, helping me avoid the wrong turns which are so easily taken. The discussions I have with my doctors and my banker are directions given, maps showing me the correct way to go. The plans we make are maps to our futures.

    I can’t help but think that the books I read are also maps. Time after time, they lead me to other books, places and activities. Many of the books I’ve read were originally mentioned in other books I had read.

    In the same case, I feel as if much of my reading is connected. I can’t count the number of times I read something; a place, an activity or a person and then read about it or them in another book I pick up. In some way or another, all the books I read have a connection, there is an invisible map that I occasionally see, but yet I am always looking for.

    When I mark down my chores at the beginning of the day which need completed, I am making a map for the day. My list of planned observations when I go out with my telescope is an atlas for my evening. My grocery list is a map; it is organized by how I will walk through the store. It becomes a set plan with minor deviations. I can picture where I’ll be walking in the store as I write down what I need. The list tends to shorten my visits; I wander less and minimize time searching, not to mention doing less “in the moment” buying.

    The objects we see in daily life can be maps also, directing us to spots in our memory banks. Looking at the Peonies in the garden in my front yard takes me on a short trip to the memories of my father who planted them 50 or 60 years ago. The Trillium plant in the back yard does the same thing. I open up my old Joy of Cooking cookbook and the stains, spots and wrinkled pages take me right to my mother, standing in front of the stove, her apron protecting her clothes, cooking meals for us. This is a book I’ll never get rid of, a map book to my feelings!

    The pictures I take are maps also. When viewed in order, they show the progress of our trips, reproducing the routes we took. Pictures, like books, can mean different things to different people; I can only hope that my pictures will take them to good places. Some pictures are made to make a point, they are maps made to bring people to a certain realization. We (the photographers) keep our fingers crossed that they will arrive at the place we wanted to take them!

    Maps, like pictures can pull us into the past, showing us what once was, helping us to remember the ways things used to be. Old maps can be helpful in finding places where things have disappeared. I use maps to find the ruins of old buildings, ones that were torn down decades ago. Those old pieces of paper, worn at the creases, direct me to where mills once stood, producing iron for a growing nation, or to where canals used to be, ferrying passengers and produce across the states. With their help I can envision what used to stand in the empty fields I find.

    As I was thinking about writing this, I wrote down some notes. Thinking about it, they are a map also. I made them to help me write this. Hopefully that map will get me to my final destination! (the next and last paragraph)

    Our world is filled with maps that we see daily but fail to realize that they are there, helping us in our daily lives. Modern technology has provided us all with maps, as close as our phones. Even if they are spoken, (“Turn left at the next intersection in 100 yards…”) they are still maps.

 Maps, I can’t help but see them everywhere!

Old Books and Iron Furnaces

My grandson Nico and his mother, Chelsey had both recently celebrated their birthdays. This weekend we were going to party! Toss Mothers Day on top and it had all the makings of a good time.  Ann Marie and I were heading out towards Philly for the get-together.

    We left a few days early, taking our time as we crossed the state from Pittsburgh. There were a few spots on our “to-visit” list and the extra day or so gave us time to wind our way across the state, going a little bit north, a bit south, a lot westward and even a bit towards the east. (Yeah, we did backtrack a few times…) This was a great time to explore some of the roads we haven’t traveled before!

    On the first day, we drove through the home of that famous groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil. We ate our breakfast at Punxy Phil’s and then cruised the streets of the town.

    We found a bookstore, B's Books Etc., but sadly, we were a few hours early, it hadn’t opened yet. This is one of the problems with my preferred early starts.

    A bit further north, we found the remains of the Karthaus Furnace. Built in 1817, the company folded after about a year. There were too many problems with transportation and customers. A couple decades later, the furnace was adapted to use coke but sadly this venture failed also. It collapsed and was later rebuilt in the late 1960’s. Within three years, it collapsed again. There is a large crack going from ground to the top on one of the sides still standing, it has definitely seen better days.

    Next on our list was Curtin Village, where the Eagle Furnace stands. The furnace was built in 1847, finally closing down in 1921. The village has a number of original buildings still standing and was added to The National Register of Historic Places in 1971. Looking around the grounds gave us an idea of what it was like when the furnace was in blast!

    The day was rapidly slipping away on us so we headed towards State College where we saw the remains of the Centre Furnace. This stack sits right outside of town. It was built in 1792!

    We then went into the town to visit Webster’s Bookstore and Café. Going down a set of steps from the sidewalk, we entered another world. Books were everywhere with lots of customers sitting and studying, eating vegetarian meals and reading. They have a great selection of books with good prices; most of their selections are used. Ann Marie came out with an arm load. 

    From there we headed (on the back roads of course) to Lewistown where we would be spending the night. Before we checked in, we stopped at The Crooked Shelf, an independent bookstore located about a block away from the town square. We BS’d with the owner for a while in this neat and orderly shop. We both picked up a couple more books before we left. 

    In the morning, while AMB slept, I went out to look for trains. Lewistown has a nice historic Amtrak Station and there is an active rail yard beside it, complete with a turn table! I was lucky enough to see a couple freight trains zip past while I was there.

    Breakfast in another diner and then we headed towards Boiling Springs. Passing through the town of Carlisle, we stopped to visit the Whistle Stop Bookshop but even though we were there after the posted opening time, it was closed. I was looking forward to looking through their railroad books; I’m only guessing they might have some. Hopefully we will get a chance the next time we go through town.

    The Boiling Springs Furnace or the Carlisle Iron Works was built around 1860-1862. They produced iron for about 100 years. An interesting fact about the furnace is that it is located on the Appalachian Trail. Hikers will notice the markers in the picture. Backpackers pass right by the furnace as they enter the town of Boiling Springs. So, not only did we visit another historic site, we “hiked” a small bit of the AT!

    Next on our list was a furnace near the town of York. The Codorus Furnace is rather unique since it was built with a round stack rather than the conventional square, pyramidal shaped furnaces.

    Built in 1765, it helped supply the Continental Army with cannons and cannon balls. It went out of blast in 1850 and has been restored three times since then. The brick structure was placed on top of the stack after it was built to help protect the workers who fueled the fire from the top. It also provided heated air to increase production.

    From here, our interests went back to books. In the town of Enola, across the street from the Norfolk and Southern rail yard was Cupboard Maker Books. The building is hard to miss; the sides are painted like books, stacked up side by side. It is a huge store filled mostly with used books. I headed in one direction and Ann Marie in another. I went to the Pennsylvania collection and then over into Photography and then where-ever my eyes led me. As we wandered through the store, various cats came by to let us pet them. I’ve seen cats in bookstores but so far, only one shop that had a dog, there should be more of those!

    From the bookstore, we headed towards the far end of the state. The party day was almost here!

    On Saturday morning, before the party, we stopped at the North Wales Library to find a geocache hidden inside it. It is a really nice library with a large collection of books for sale. While I looked for the various clues to locate the cache, AMB scanned the sale shelves. Then SHE found the cache. We both took home a book or two from here also!

    Sunday afternoon and we were both ready to get back to our homes. We didn’t make many stops other than shortly after we left. We made our regular stop at Dietrich’s Meats for some Pennsylvania Dutch style meats, and then stopped at the Lime Kiln that is located a few miles down the road.

    I know hardly anything about this other than it is a Lime Kiln, not an iron furnace. We happened across it as we were heading home on another trip. It was all overgrown and covered with trees and ivy. Someone had recently cleaned it up. Since it was Sunday, no one was at the near-by business, so we couldn’t ask any questions.

    From there, we stuck to our route. We passed with-in a couple miles of a few more furnaces but we no longer were in the mood to sightsee, we just wanted to get home.

    Playing with and holding my grandsons was the highlight of the trip, along with the party with family and friends. We left with heavy hearts but are anxiously looking forward to their trip to Pittsburgh in the near future, when we will be able to see them and their parents again. We squeezed a lot into this trip, we didn’t see all the furnaces on our list and some of the bookshops were closed, but they will just be put onto the list for the next trip!

     I have to say, my bed felt REALLY good when I got home!

From Out of the Fog Rose the Sun

 The fog was intermittent, at times none existent and at other times, the road could barley be seen. The sun was up but dimmed by the thick clouds hanging in the valleys. The weather prognosticators had called for a clear, sunny day, the fog was just some icing on the cake!

    Fog is such an interesting phenomenon. We are aware of what is there, yet it is hidden from our view. Our imagination comes into play, envisioning what we might be missing. Fog is a mystery, an unanswered question for our minds.

    Driving along the river, structures were dim outlines against a blank background. Railroad tracks faded away with no beginning or end, just a short piece was visible, the rest could only be imagined.

    Ann Marie, Jim and I were heading towards the sun, off to the east in search of … anything. Our initial destination was the small town of Bolivar, in Westmoreland County. Long ago there were a batch of brick plants here, they have since gone out of business and been torn down, but there are always remnants left behind. Perhaps if we were lucky, we might find some of them.

    Topping a hill, the Laurel Highlands could be seen in the distance. Their hillsides were covered with patches of fog, the details all blurred by the distance. High smokestacks of a power plant poked through the fog surrounding them, making them appear to be floating in the clouds. Bright sunshine topped trees near-by, brilliant fresh green leaves on the tops while the trunks still sat in the dim light of the morning dusk. Beautiful! Nature is an artist with no rival!

    We drove on narrow roads with trees forming a canopy over our heads. The roads twisted and turned as they followed the lay of the land. Straight roads are rare in Pennsylvania unless they have been bulldozed, leveled, widened and paved to create a speedy way between two points. They are quick but sadly, so unattractive. The old back roads follow the streams and hills, letting the landscape determine their route.

    The woods were filled with new May Apples, their flowers yet to bloom. Dog woods grew in places, adding bright splotches of color to the woods as we drove by. The temperatures rose and we doffed our jackets and soon windows were cracked to allow the fresh air into the car.

    In the small town of Bolivar, the fog was still hanging over the river. We stopped at one site and looked around awhile. Sadly what were once ruins was now a cleared patch of ground. A nice RR bridge crossed the Conemaugh River, with the fog it would have made a nice picture if a train came across it, but that was not to be. A couple trains passed us on tracks beside the bridge but none crossed it while we were there. One of them was an Amtrak train, we waved but couldn’t see if anyone noticed us.

    As we drove around the town, we talked with a couple of the residents. They told us that as far as they knew, all remnants of the brickyards were gone. Perhaps, I’ll have to return another time to look further.

    Continuing on the back roads, we kept the car pointing east.  Turning onto a smaller road we crossed a small stream, Richards Run, where we pulled over and got out to enjoy the scene. White Dogwoods sat on one side and small yellow flowers grew on the other. The sound of the stream as it tumbled over the rocks was refreshing and relaxing. Sunshine illuminated the water as it pooled under the rocks and in our minds… all was good with the world!

    A short distance down the road we came across a fox. It ran in front of us for a bit before dashing up the hillside and behind some rocks. We also ran across some deer, one of them nearly with our bumper. Swerving and braking, we managed to pass it with inches to spare. Along with the beauty of the state, there are also some dangers; you never know when they might appear.

    In New Alexandria we passed a huge coal fueled power station but, while it looked dramatic, didn’t interest us at all. We were heading towards older industry. 

    A few miles out of town, we visited the Laurel Hill Furnace. Built in 1845, it only produced iron for about 10-15 years. Once a place filled with smoke and noise and wooden buildings crowding around the furnace, now all that remain of this once thriving industry is the stack. A mile or two further back the road, in the game-lands is what remains of the Baldwin Furnace. We didn’t bother going there, been there, done that!

    Going south towards Ligonier, we stopped and visited the Valley, or Hill View Furnace. This furnace was built in 1850. Built out of field stone, it isn’t as “polished” as the Laurel Hill Furnace. Trees are growing on top of it; their roots are slowly breaking it down. There are often cows feeding on the grass surrounding the stack but today, it sat all alone in the field, under a beautiful blue sky.

    As is so often the case, there were a couple geocaches that we ran into along the way. One was situated between the two roads in front of Idlewild Amusement Park and the second one was behind the park near an old train station. Once in serious disrepair, it has been rejuvenated and is now the Ligonier Valley Railroad Museum. The gate was open but the building was closed, we snooped around a bit and then continued on.

    We drove through one of the nicest sections of route 30, where the Loyalhanna Creek splits the two directions of travel. High mountains are divided by the stream with cottages sitting near the water. The trees lining the road climb up out of sight. Even with the traffic going by I can’t imagine that this wouldn’t be a relaxing spot to sit by the water!

(Taken in 2022)

    We turned north and ended up in Blairsville where we stopped for lunch at Deans Diner. Deans first opened in the town of Blairsville in 1934. The diner, situated alongside rt.22 has been here since 1953.

    It was lunchtime and there was a steady flow of customers coming and going. We sat beside two men who were heading towards a camp near Mount Union. All through the diner, people were talking with each other while they enjoyed their food. I didn’t notice any phones being stared at while we were there. We talked with the men beside us as we ate and then they headed east to their camp and we headed west towards our homes.

    The fog was just a memory as we drove home under blue skies dotted with puffy white clouds. It was time to head home, there were chores waiting for us. What a great way to start the day!