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November 11, 2004
Acquisition of Empire schoolhouse sets changes in motion
By Thomas Benn
Sun contributor
Empire’s century-old schoolhouse is in the process of being acquired by a realtor from Plymouth, Michigan, who plans to make it into “a memorabilia mall like you’ve never seen before.”
The prospective new owner, Joe Van Esley, is a highly successful real estate broker who has been collecting Americana for most of his 47 years. He wants to restore the old structure as a series of theme rooms and retail shops: A newspaper announcing President Washington’s establishment of the first U.S. postal service … Not just baseball cards but letters from the legendary baseball great Ty Cobb… Seats from Briggs Stadium, the old Tiger ballpark … An entire room devoted to the inventor Thomas Edison … These and other reminders of the past offered for sale on the premises where, prior to 1968, generations of youngsters were studying their history lessons.
Van Esley’s nickname among his friends in Plymouth is “Ease.” But this venture — if it transpires — will be far from easy. He took a 12-month option on the purchase of the property in August. A short time later, he says he made a substantial down payment of the selling price of almost $400,000. The previous owners, Nick and Ruth Hoffbauer, who operate a hot air balloon business in Carmel, Indiana, have been trying for several years to sell the deteriorating building before it falls apart.
They said in a letter to the Empire Village Council last month that the sale to Van Esley was pending. But Mrs. Hoffbauer emphasized in a telephone interview that the transaction is still legally in the option stage.
In the meantime the prospective new owner spent a weekend in Empire recently overseeing the re-roofing of the entire 10,000 square foot structure as well as the small nearby house once used as a kindergarten annex. “The building was saved just in time,” he told me later.
His goal is to “make that corner come alive” — that corner being the flashing light intersection of highways M-22, 72, and downtown Front Street, and downtown Front Street, sometimes known as Taghons’ Corner.
Expressing his confidence in the soundness of the original construction, Van Esley rejects the notion prevalent in some village circles that the building is beyond repair. He indicated emphatically that he was prepared to spend whatever was necessary to “make up for 30 years of neglect.”
The school was built in 1901 and left vacant after the consolidation of several area school districts in the Glen Lake public school system. A succession of speculative buyers, including the Hoffbauers in 1978, purchased the property expecting to exploit its location and its historic significance for local alumni. One of the earlier owners, for example, wanted to obtain a liquor license and turn it into a “poker palace.”
The immediate reaction to the feasibility of Van Esley’s plans among most village officials with whom I spoke was one of reserved skepticism. Edwin Simpson, an influential member of both the Village Planning Commission and the Village Council, estimated that bringing the property into conformity with various health and safety codes could cost in excess of a million dollars. Besides structural asbestos, lead paint, and coal dust contamination, the septic system was severely poisoned by mercury and other toxic chemicals dumped down the sink by years of chemistry lab students. Van Esley said he has retained environmental consultants who assure him that meeting state Department of Environmental Quality standards is attainable, though admittedly at substantial expense.
He said that although his present plans do not call for a food service facility in the building, the new septic system would be sufficient to accommodate such a business.
One of the impediments to more than a year of negotiations by another prospective buyer — this one a local antique dealer — was uncertainty about whether partial public financing could be obtained for the environmental clean-up. Paul Skinner, an owner of The Misers’ Hoard Antiques, which is located a block away from the school on Front Street, had proposed converting the interior of the building into eight condominium living units.
Skinner’s plans also hinged on the future relocation of Taghon’s auto repair garage. The repair shop is located across from the schoolhouse on the east side of M-22. Garage owner Dennis Taghon’s facility includes a parking lot adjacent to the rear of the school tract.
Skinner said he was notified by the Hoffbauers in August that the property was no longer on the market. He had anticipated that the cost of renovating the structure with moderately upscale condos, while retaining the distinctive architectural integrity of the exterior design, would have been around $1.8 million.
Van Esley declined to predict what the overall price tag for his planned renovation would be. He said the initial phase of repair and rehabilitation would take at least a year. He made it clear that he was acting on his own and not in behalf of other investors.
The lots on which the buildings are located are zoned both commercial and residential. So Michael Vanderberg, chairperson of the Village Planning Commission, said at the October meeting of the commission the project would not come before that body until “he (the new owner) wants to do something to change the structure.” Vanderberg told me last summer that the extensive environmental degradation made it appear that the only practical avenue to preservation would be if a philanthropist with deep pockets appeared unexpectedly. All along, many of those most active in village affairs wished that the building could somehow be made available as a community activity center.
No philanthropist, Van Esley hopes to be able to turn a profit on the collectibles craze and nostalgia for the past. Like so many others who visit Leelanau County, he and his family returned time and time again. He said he managed to run up and down the Dune Climb (in the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore) two years ago, then lost weight and did it again last summer in less time.
His plan is to add to his store of memorabilia, topically organized in different rooms — a sports room in the old gym, a presidential history room, an inventors’ room, a room for old newspapers matted and framed, an old-style general store, and so forth.
The financial viability of his venture would appear to depend on the ideas he comes up with to generate income from various businesses operated in conjunction with the exhibits. He said the undertaking would be a family enterprise involving his wife, Elizabeth, and daughters Christy, Ashley and Brooke. The daughters, for example, would sell sun tan lotion and other beach sundries in the small kindergarten house, he said.
In the initial phase at least, Van Esley apparently did not attempt to acquire the lot which Dennis Taghon uses to park disabled vehicles next to the school building. Eventually, however, Van Esley said he would like to purchase other unspecified property in the village.
The corner was considerably more lively in the old days when there was a busy saloon across from the school on Front Street. Now, besides the garage, there is a motel and a gas station (previously owned for many years by Dennis’s uncle Dave Taghon).
While Skinner was preparing his condo development plans, the months of negotiations revolved around a possible future site for Taghon’s garage. Though aesthetically less pleasing than the schoolhouse, the car repair shop is a treasured local institution too. Residents for miles around tell stories of the exceptionally accommodating service provided by the garage workers in this era of de-personalized, in-and-out commerce.
Dennis Taghon told me not long ago that he was considering “getting off the corner” by moving to one of several possible sites for a larger operation. One of the possibilities under consideration is a lot owned by contractor and developer Fred Salisbury at the end of Fisher Street. Cherry Republic now leases a packaging warehouse on this land. Foremost among Salisbury’s many land holdings along M-22 in Empire is his family home located uncomfortably close by Taghon’s garage. It is only logical therefore that Salisbury would like to acquire the present garage site. However, the Fisher Street site would have to be re-zoned from residential to commercial. Taghon stressed that he was looking at other options as well.
Meanwhile, the possibility remains that if Van Esley meets a hostile reaction to his grandiose vision of a lively corner he could back out of the purchase before the final papers are signed. The Village Council voted last month to exclude the block containing the schoolhouse from the Front Street green space plans. Both the Hoffbauers and Van Esley had endorsed green space reaching all the way to M-22.
Posted by editor at 11:23 PM | Comments (0)
Old Man Winter
... is just around the corner the corner. Do you have enough firewood to last until spring?
Photo by Jacob Wheeler
A Thanksgiving Feast!
The fourth-annual Pig Roast at Art’s Bar on Saturday, November 6 proved what many of us never doubted in the first place — Glen Arbor-ites sure can throw down food! Tim Barr and staff roasted two delicious swine that totaled a whopping 336 pounds and complimented that with 40 chickens and plenty of other Thanksgiving-type fixings to feed 510 happy locals for no charge. The giving season will continue at Art’s on Monday nights throughout the winter, with a 2-for-1 burger deal and free pool.
Posted by editor at 10:33 PM | Comments (0)
Recycled Park houses provide a home, sweet home
By Helen Westie
Sun staff writer
These days, when half of a mobile home is transported down a highway on a flat bed truck, people rarely give it a second glance despite the ominous presence of an escort vehicle with a WIDE LOAD sign. But when an entire highway is taken up by a house moving slowly along, now there is an irresistible attraction that will never fail to draw a group of spectators. Such was the case six years ago, in the fall of 1998 when a group of locals teamed up to move the old Brooks House from the North Bar Lake area to M-22, south of Empire at LaCore Street.
The preparatory work had been completed. The house’s owners had engaged the Jonassen Moving Company of Hart, Michigan for the endeavor and hired local builder and urban planner Robert Foulkes as the contractor. A permit was granted from the state police to block off M-22. The Empire Village Council had approved tree-trimming all along the proposed route. Private land owners agreed to allow movement across their property. The Michigan Department of Transportation arranged to take down the blinking light at the corner of M-22 and M-72 (Front Street) and then return it later on. Century Telephone, Consumers Power and Charter Cable were also alerted. Skid boards were added to the house at the eaves, in order to deflect small tree branches while en route. The wrap around porch had already been removed.
The Jonassen Company had constructed a web of I-beams bolted together. And placed below the house, which was then lifted with hydraulic jacks and slid onto a truck, were a set of wheels and axles. At this point a police inspection of the house on the truck was required.
The route stretched from Bar Road to Voice Road, but also included a detour across the field where the Dunegrass Festival was once held, because of a line of Maple trees, and through the Catholic Church parking lot (with the priest’s permission, of course) to M-22 and, finally, south to LaCore Street.
What an effort!
Obviously, the task was slow and cumbersome. All went well until just before Fisher Road, as the truck was proceeding on LaCore, a large tree limb caught the roof of the house and stopped the truck. Backing up did not help. The house was stuck.
With M-22 completely blocked off, the crowd of onlookers had swelled to about 30 to 40 people who now were highly amused. Luckily, there were many community elders present who gave permission to saw off the offending tree limb. Foulkes gave the order, and Jeff Grant from White Oak Frame Company provided the saw and completed the job to the cheers and applause of the crowd.
The truck then slowly proceeded on across the field, the church parking lot and on to M-22.
In the spirit of historic preservation
In the 1970’s, the United States Department of the Interior acquired 71,000 acres here in northern Michigan, which became The Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. The lives of many people changed forever when the new branch of the National Park Service purchased their homes and farms. The sellers were sometimes granted a “Reservation of Use and Occupancy” for a stated number of years. The reservations ranged from five years to 25 years, or even the lifetime of the owner, depending on individual circumstances. When the reservation expired, the park took possession.
This ongoing process originated in the 1970’s and continues even today, according to Tom Ulrich, Assistant Superintendent of the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. “If the house is an historic site, the park seeks to preserve the property,” he said. “If it is not of historic value, one possibility is to issue a contract to a demolition company on a bid basis and the house can be razed. The contractor may offer a house to interested parties who can arrange for its removal, thus sparing the house from demolition.”
Park ranger Bill Herd estimates that under 20 local homes, including the Brooks house, were moved through a process similar to the one described above, and more may follow suit in the future.
Several houses in the Village of Empire are of special interest because they have been moved from the National Park and recycled. The large farmhouse now on the south end of the village where LaCore Street meets M-22 was moved from Stormer Road, and once owned by Irwin and Lillian Beck, who sold strawberries, raspberries, sweet corn and other vegetables from their 40-acre farm. Robert Foulkes and his wife, Robin Johnson, an architect who designed and built one of the homes in Empire’s “New Neighborhood” now own and occupy this farmhouse. The house was too wide to go down the road, so a large east wing was dismantled, and the historic parts were recycled and used in the restoration. The size of the house was shrunk down to what it was in 1924 and positioned in the new Empire location with the same orientation. Robin and Robert are doing the finishing touches. He feels that “recycling the old farmhouses into the Village of Empire is a unique chance to keep alive the historic character of the town. This house is now referred to as the Beck House.
The next house south on LaCore Street, known as the Brooks House, was moved from the North Bar Lake area and has been completely renovated and restored as a turn-of-the-century farmhouse. Ben Weese, Robert Foulkes, James Foulkes and Chris Hall formed a partnership and are responsible for saving both the Beck House and the Brooks House. Weese, a retired architect, and his wife Cindy, Dean of Architecture at Washington University in St. Louis, sometimes live in Chicago. They are part-time residents in their home on LaRue Street in Empire. Ben was in charge of the repairs and restoration of the Brooks House, and he is the new owner.
Before it was moved the house included a rap-around porch, which was knocked off by a bulldozer to facilitate the move. A new, smaller porch was added as part of the restoration, and is more in keeping with the period. New siding was also added, as well as new windows, and the house was re-trimmed. The original front door remains on the house, but a new backdoor was added. Original floors were refurbished. The house has a new, full basement. Jerry and Paul Solem of Empire were commissioned to do this work. Ben Weese says that, “it is important to keep the spirit of an earlier community by way of these recycled houses.”
Susan Pocklington has resided in the Brooks House since its restoration. Her possessions and antiques fit the historic period of the house like a glove. Susan is a singer and flautist, and she is the administrative coordinator of Preserve Historic Sleeping Bear, a non-profit organization whose mission is to preserve the historic structures and the cultural landscape of the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. The organization is funded by donations and grants. Susan stated, “Living here is congruent with my passion for historic buildings. The opportunity to live here and be the caretaker of an historic farmhouse which was saved from demolition is very satisfying.” For good measure, she added a white rocking chair, a pot of geraniums, and a white picket fence at the side and back of the old house.
Dave Taghon, who served as Empire village president for many years and is now the active president of the Empire Area Museum, knows more about the history of this quaint village than anyone. “I am a firm believer in this recycling process,” he said. “I give credit to those who go through the trouble of undertaking such a challenge.”
Scandinavian charm and an optical illusion
Thirty years ago Chicago residents Joe Karr and his wife Kaisu obtained the Mary Birdsey House, which was located in the Park on the west side of M-22, north of M-109 at the curve. They had it moved to their property on Lake Street in Empire. Joe is a semi-retired landscape architect and Kaisu, before she became a fulltime homemaker, was a French language instructor. At the South end of Lake Street, this house is hidden from view because it is set back behind a row of Pine trees at the base of Storm Hill.
Jerry Solem and his company crew completely remodeled and refurbished the house, and it has retained the clean lines of the former Birdsey home. The added basement has the original floor joists which support the whole house. Uniquely, these joints are rough tree poles of Beech and Maple, and are visible to this day. Pale yellow siding with white trim has replaced the grey shingles. Windows were widened and others added. The kitchen was extended to the back to form a large dining area surrounded by eight new, long windows which overlook a wooded area where deer and other wildlife appear. New Maple floors were added. The whole modern décor is in natural wood with white accents. This house has a definite Scandinavian look inside and out, a reflection of Kaisu’s Finnish heritage. The house is still in mint condition. The Karrs are now adding a second roof.
Some years ago the Birdseys held a family reunion in Empire at a relative’s home, and the group came to the Karr House to view the changes to the old family house.
As the Karrs’ two children were growing up they often came to Empire in the summers and often on weekends in the winters for cross-country skiing and other activities. The Karrs now hope to spend more time in Empire.
One of the earliest homes purchased by the National Park was the Tom Thorogood home on Day Forest Road on Little Glen Lake. In 1971 Tim Barr of Empire and current owner of Art’s Bar in Glen Arbor bought the house on a bid basis for $75 from the National Park Service. He was obligated to move the house and everything from the site and restore the landscape to its natural condition. In turn, he sold it to the elder Thorogood’s son, Dave, and his wife Shirley of Empire. He also engaged the Jonassen Moving Company, which charged him $2,500 to move the house to the Thorogood property just off LaCore Road on South Bar Lake. They made improvements to the house and lived there several years before selling it to Bill and Sue Chambo, who operate The South Bar Bed and Breakfast there to this day.
Tim purchased several properties from the Park. One of these also has an interesting history. Before the Park bought a building and out-buildings near Good Harbor Bay at 669 and M-22, it was a tourist attraction named Glen Magic. This was an attempt to replicate the Mystery Spot in the Upper Peninsula west of the Mackinac Bridge, which to this day is a successful tourist attraction. Like that one, Glen Magic had a building constructed on a 45-degree angle but appeared to be on straight lines so that an optical illusion gave people a dizzying effect. Before long the enterprise failed and was closed down. Tim bought the enterprise from the park and used the materials, himself, or sold some. He used siding to cover his own home on Aylsworth Street in Empire. The ticket booth is still in Tim’s backyard.
Posted by editor at 09:37 PM | Comments (0)
Two can play that game
- from staff reports
On the occasion of its tenth year in existence next summer, the Glen Arbor Sun will give birth to a sister publication, down the road in Frankfort, in 2005. Two 1996 Leelanau School graduates and hungry entrepreneurs, Jordan Bates and Richard Taber, will spearhead the Benzie County publication, and hope for the same kind of support that our readers and advertisers have gracefully given our small-town paper over the years.
Let the free press continue to churn out news, and give communities a voice all across America for years to come!
Posted by editor at 08:40 PM | Comments (0)
Georgia or bust: Local couple braves the Appalachian Trail — Part 2
By Abby Noble
Sun contributor
Abby (Chatfield) Noble, of Leland, set out to hike the Appalachian Trail with her now-husband, Kenny, in the fall of 2003. The two-part tale of their awe-inspiring journey concludes in this issue of the Glen Arbor Sun. Abby honed her writing skills at the Interlochen Arts Academy. She and Kenny were married this year on June 27.
The entire trail only exists because thousands of individuals volunteer to maintain it and fight constant legal battles to ensure the Appalachian Trail keeps a secure passage. Near Caratunk, Maine, the Kennebec River rolls with such force that hikers are required to canoe across it. This would not be possible without the volunteers who sit at the river’s edge in shifts and wait to paddle hikers to the opposite bank. One hiker, determined to walk even the rivers, declined the canoe ride and attempted to swim against the Kennebec current with his pack above his head. We met him a few days later and learned that a man had plucked the hiker from the water about a quarter-mile downstream of the trail and saved his life.
We opted to accept a canoe ride and safely reach the biggest physical challenge along the entire trail, Maine’s Mahoosuc Range. Our lowland travels, broken only intermittently by random isolated peaks, turned into the most continuous series of ups and downs on the Appalachian Trail. The Mahoosuc alpine territory offers extensive views on clear days. From The Horn, the Atlantic Ocean is visible. From all peaks, I could watch the approaching weather. On Saddleback’s summit, we leaned into the 30 mph winds and observed, far off, rain showering down in metallic curtains, connecting the clouds to patches of hillside basking in the sunlight.
It rained a lot in the Mahoosucs, which forced us to slow our pace along the steep, bare rock trail. Luckily, we met the hardest mile of trail, Mahoosuc Notch, on a dry day. This lone mile took two hours to defeat, because we had to scurry over and under its piled boulders in a tunnel only 25-75 yards wide, enclosed by mountainous cliffs. Sunlight never touches the boulders’ bellies, so even in late July ice remains and creates cold air currents that circle around the hot air above.
There would not be another challenge like this until our first day in New Hampshire. We realized that we had completed 281 miles when we saw the blue hand-painted sign marking the Maine-New Hampshire border. We knew we were about to enter into a new challenge and found the scariest moment of trail along New Hampshire’s Rattle River.
The night before our Rattle River crossing, heavy rains flooded the riverbanks, and rapids continued to explode through slots between the boulders all along the riverbed. The trail requires hikers to pass through this normally docile current, and there is no way around it. After an hour, we had piled up enough dead logs to balance our way across the first shoot of rapids. If one log broke, it would send us down a jagged slide of bubbling foam. If we made it across, we would still have to walk through two more raging, yet shallower, sets of rapids. We succeeded by taking our time, and I cried as all my nervous energy escaped on the opposite bank.
We had safely entered a new state and a completely different atmosphere of higher altitudes, consistently rocky trail and continuous fees. From Imp Mountain to the New Hampshire-Vermont border, there are few sheltered places to stay in the exposed environment. Fees are collected at the few safe camping areas and used to maintain areas along the entire Appalachian Trail. Hikers must have enough cash to ensure safe passage through the most exposed areas. After the Carter and Wildcat ranges, we ascended Mount Madison and trekked south along the Presidential Range’s backbone well above tree line. Even though it can take a week to hike the long stretch of bare rock and Bigelow Sedge, most people never witness the amazing views only available about 25 percent of the their time above 6,000 feet. Mt. Washington, New England’s highest point, boasts the worst weather and strongest winds (231 mph) in the world. With such unpredictable shifts in weather, it is almost necessary to stay inside the infamous Presidential huts, like Lake of the Clouds hut a mile south of Mt. Washington. Huts cost tourists and hikers over $65 per night. But thru-hikers can sleep on dining room tables or the floor and eat the guests’ leftovers for free, if they volunteer a few hours to help hut staff with daily chores.
The weather cleared for us at many points in the Presidentials, and we made the list of volunteers in a few huts too. But the best view in New Hampshire was the 360-degree panorama atop Mt. Kinsman at the south end of the White Mountains. We observed the Presidentials’ jagged peaks on the northern horizon and looked south on the upcoming trail where the landscape melted from tall mountainous cones into rippling hills.
As we lowered in altitude and latitude the forest began to reappear and diversify. Within a day, we passed through mixed forest, White Pine woods, hemlock, birch, spruce and maple. As author and hiker Bill Bryson wrote in his book, “Into the Woods,” we had just completed only 15 percent of the entire Appalachian Trail but already put forth 50 percent of the needed effort, as we crossed the Connecticut River into Vermont.
Vermont trail is like a rollercoaster track. It mostly rolls in a way where speed from descent carries one up the next hill, and so on. The woods open up and trees grow spaced apart, yet still thick enough to question where it might end. At points when the woods broke open, we found hamlets like Manchester or old-fashioned diners by a roadside. Our appetites already rivaled that of anyone walking 20-mile days, so we took advantage of most diners without letting any of our dehydrated food go to waste. A breakfast of omelets, toast, potatoes and sausage could, unfailingly, be followed by two lunches each and a pot of lentils for dinner.
Besides the good food, Vermont offered a sense of achievement as our pace quickened along its gentle terrain through the Green Mountains. For over 100 miles, the Appalachian Trail shared the Long Trail’s corridor so, by the Massachusetts border, we had hiked one-third of the historic Vermont footpath and noted our location as halfway through the New England stretch.
Yet our hike along America’s acclaimed footpath through nature began to seem a lot less like nature and more like a nature walk through the town park. Massachusetts’ White Pine forests, with their filtered red light and soft floors clear of most underbrush, remained a quiet, soothing environment to hike. But signs of human life otherwise continued. One night, we actually believed we were lost and woke to find ourselves at the edge of someone’s backyard.
But by the second week of September, touches of color brushed across the treetops, and the change motivated me to keep moving forward. Fields of goldenrod, wildflowers and ferns broke the monotonous walk along riverbanks and cornfields. Historic sites began appearing in greater number, and we passed by old rock fences that marked historical property lines.
Everett was the last mountain we climbed in Massachusetts before descending into Sage’s Ravine, a deep river-cut gap marking the Massachusetts-Connecticut border. We climbed the ladder of rock steps out of the gap to Bear Mountain’s summit, where a sign claims this as Connecticut’s tallest peak. But according to a man we met there, who had already climbed to the highest points in all 50 states, Connecticut’s tallest peak is actually a neighbor to Bear Mountain.
Connecticut’s 83-mile Appalachian Trail stretch completed our New England hiking experience and remained as removed as we would be from daily human activities until Pennsylvania. We entered into the Mid-Atlantic corridor at the Connecticut-New York border and faced our biggest mental challenges of the entire journey.
New York was, by far, the least enjoyable hiking state between Maine and Pennsylvania and might have been responsible for our decreasing excitement about this hike. Human sound polluted the trail, and it was common to spot construction just outside the narrow, barely protected corridor. Power lines, telephone poles, turnpikes and neighborhoods surrounded us. After crossing the Hudson River on a busy bridge, we even followed the trail through the center of a small zoo. Hiking through a state that seemed to put more effort into a zoo that the trail calloused our thoughts so well that we showed no surprise at the miles of grey, seemingly dead woods or at Nuclear Lake, so named for its severe contamination by a large nuclear spill in the 1970s.
New York did have a lot of deer, porcupines and high ridges with open views. But our morale deteriorated the longer we remained there. Maybe this is why New Jersey looked so appealing upon our arrival, despite the noticeable manmade marks on the landscape. We expected black air and pocked hillsides from industry but only came upon cow pastures and small county roads. The land slowly lifted into the Kittatiny Mountains and the least obstructed views since Connecticut. Bird clubs from all over the region flocked here to watch hawks sail on air currents along cliff edges. Hunters stalked the trail to access nearby hunting spots. Deer and bear populated the state. In fact, there was such a high bear population that most hikers left New Jersey with at least one close encounter.
The active Kittatiny Mountain trails lowered into the fast-paced, well-used Delaware Water Gap, the border between New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Semi-trucks thundered past us as we leaned over the bridge, rather risking a fall into the muddy Delaware River than losing a leg to a speeding vehicle. After almost 1,000 miles of continuous walking, the contrast between our rate of movement and the surrounding culture’s was very evident.
It remained easy to adapt into a simple life with only the bare necessities at hand, but the Mid-Atlantic region’s consistent blur between development and nature stole a lot of enjoyment from our experience. It became difficult to pass by a town without stopping in for a while, and the scenery became ordinary and human. In Pennsylvania, we experienced autumn’s peak beauty. All the way from the Pokeno Mountains to the southern part of the state, we walked along flat ridgelines for up to 20 miles at a time before a short trip down into a gap and then 500 yards straight up onto the next long ridge. The valley’s forests below us blazed red and orange and restored some excitement in the journey.
We witnessed the acclaimed view from The Pinnacle alongside a large Amish family. A patched quilt of farmland spread across the green, flat land between the forested hills to its sides. As beautiful as it seemed, there were a few obvious environmental issues. Within a two-day stretch, we passed by three Environmental Protection Agency clean-up sites at abandoned mines. It hailed on us one day, and our feet almost froze each night. By October, it seemed the season was already changing again, and we were not walking fast enough to reach Georgia by Christmas.
We knew we had to quit at Boiling Springs, Pennsylvania, because I contracted viral meningitis just north, near Duncannon. We spent almost a week there at a $15 motel while I recovered but knew the journey must end. We wanted to keep it a positive experience, so we had to be honest with ourselves. We had reached our limit at 1,065 miles, but we would, some day, come back to finish the southern half of the Appalachian Trail.
Posted by editor at 07:43 PM | Comments (0)