Type: Loop trail
Difficulty: Easy with rare moderate spots
Time to Complete: 2 days, 1 night
Highlights: Streams and mountain springs
Water: Abundant, but probably dry at times Blazes: Orange rectangles (1 straight - 2 turn)
Directions: From Philly: 476N to I-80E to PA-115N - right on Buck River Rd. Rte. 2040 - left on Bear Lake Rd. Rte. 2016 - forestry station and trailhead are 3-4 miles up on right.
10-28-02 to 10-30-02
This was my first solo trip. The weather called for clouds, 32-47 degrees, and a chance of showers on my last day out.
Elevation was fairly level and stayed around 2000' for most of the hike. It was a bit cold, but not unbearable, and I was glad I jumped at the chance to see the colors of Autumn. The trail was well marked and almost always navigatable, but slightly to extremely overgrown in some places. There were water sources and campsites at least every 3 miles and usually they were more abundant than that.
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I picked up a map at the forestry station, about two miles down the road from the trailhead, and got started a little after 12:00PM on Monday. The leaves were gorgeous and I made good time for most of the afternoon. At a few points the Pinchot got to be a little less than challenging and I wondered if the whole trail was going to be uneventful. It was usually around these times that I would come to some adversity like a difficult water crossing or steep climb. I saw the most unique natural bridge made entirely of a tree's roots.
I thought that I would have frightening Blair Witch moments, spending days out in the woods by myself. But the truth is, I really didn't think about that kind of stuff; my mind just wandered around the terrain and the majestic Fall scenery. Well, ok, I got a little skittish when I found a blood-soaked towel and a shredded t-shirt on the ground about 4 miles in. I even checked my map to see if there were roads close to the trail at that point (there were not), because I doubted that a hiker would bring a towel or leave trash like that out there. But before my sinister imagination could even begin to run away with me, I put it out of my head as I knew that I would convince myself neither of my immediate safety nor of my impending doom. (Hey, I know a few people that would have had a serious anxiety attack at this point, so I think a little internal argument with myself is acceptable.) I kept walking.
It was very cold at about 7:00 in the morning, so I went back to sleep until 10, eventually breaking camp around 11. Nothing really amazing happened during the day's hike; I saw signs of beavers and a cool campsite on the top of a big rock overlooking Choke Creek. I almost took my shoes off to cross a stream later on in the day, but decided to chance it, hopping from rocks, to logs, and even some mud. There were just enough dry places to step.
I camped at Butler Run (mile 13.5) around 5:00PM and within the hour I got the feeling that the temperature had dropped below freezing. Then it started snowing. WTF? The forecast was "cloudy" and now it was quickly getting colder. Jack London's To Build a Fire came to mind. I wasn't sure how much would fall, if I should try hiking out to a road that night, or if I should attempt to continue the hike tomorrow. I figured I would put some socks on my hands and stick it out for awhile. Plus, if I started to freeze, I could pack up and night hike with the rising moon adding more light.
So I tended the fire for a bit, but it was a real pain with wet wood and falling snow. I hit the sack around 7:30PM, bringing my water with me in my sleeping bag to keep it from freezing. I'd wake up every hour or so to smack the snow off the tent walls and to peek outside to see if it stopped. It snowed all night though, and I remember worrying about my car being too stuck to move when I got back to it
Woke up at 8:00AM and it was still snowing, so I snoozed, organized my thoughts, and packed up moving out by 9:00. My sock covered hands and feet got wet and eventually went numb, while the snow was slowing me down considerably. The trail was hard to follow with the covering, plus, it was overgrown in spots and I would get snow dumped down the back of my sweatshirt when I disturbed the branches. (Oh yeah, I didn't bring a coat either.)
Towards the end of Birchstill Trail, I saw one of the eeriest sites of my entire life. There were HUGE birches all toppled like dominoes across and along the trail, and there were rows that went back as far as I could see. The pictures don't do it justice; believe me when I say it was impassable. I tried to circumnavigate the blockade, but the trees were so many, so large, and over such a wide area, I couldn't find the trail again.
I checked the map and continued searching, but never found it. So I headed for the nearest road and tried to walk in a straight line. Unfortunately, I got disoriented from the cloudy skies and the snow on the ground. I got turned about 80 degrees to the right over a quarter mile (also forgot my compass) and ended up at Sand Spring Creek which I knew I could follow up to a road. 80 degrees to the right... One of my legs must be longer than the other.
Got to the road, followed the map, and walked about 3 miles back to the trailhead. It snowed almost the whole way.