All the World

All the World

          Tuesday’s forecast called for a high near ninety degrees and humidity in the uncomfortable zone. To me, that meant a perfect day for a ride into the wilds and mountains of Pennsylvania on Route 144. This may be my last chance to ride on one of my favorite roads in Pa. this year before my hip replacement surgery next month in August of 2024.

          The route takes me through some of the most beautiful and secluded places in Pennsylvania. The road, for the most part, is smooth and well-kept and the abundance of shade covering the road will bring relief from the heat and humidity. It’s a road little traveled by other commuters making it perfect for a get- away ride.

          It was a little before nine o’clock in the morning when I pulled out from my driveway, and I was anticipating the solitude of the deep woods and a chance to talk to The Keepers and those that have gone before whose spirit wanders the forest.

          I made it a point to stop at the local convenience store just up the road a few miles to pick up some meager supplies for my trip and fill up my tank for the 175-mile voyage. A full tank will fill the fuel needs of the bike, and some beef jerky, cheese crackers, and two bottles of water will quell my hunger and thirst until I arrive back home late afternoon or early evening.

          The morning was cool but not cool enough to warrant the need for my signature blue jean jacket as I felt the calm anticipation of the road yet to come.

          Several towns and settlements must first be endured before entering the domain of The Keepers and their welcome. It was then I began to feel the heat and humidity encroaching. Route 144 could not come soon enough.

          I followed Route 322 through the town of Clearfield and picked up Route 53 just south of there. Following Route 53 a short distance I found my goal of Route 144 West near the small town of Moshannon.

          It was only a short distance of travel before the signs of human habitation disappeared and for the next twenty miles or so, I was alone on the road only seeing two or three other vehicles and no homes or refuge save for an uninhabited camp or two and no cell phone service should a need arise. Only tall scrub brushes lined the road. I was alone with my thoughts and the song of the bike for entertainment. It was perfect.

          The scrub brush that lined the road took over from past clearcutting and it soon gave way to a more forested path. A large boulder covered by graffiti marked the spot where I made my first stop to get a drink of water and explore the boulder.

          Most of the graffiti was of the people who had stopped there at various times past marking the date of their visit and their first names and except for the markings on the rock, there was little damage to the surrounding area except for a foot path which I followed around the rock to seek a place where I could climb to the top to get a better view and perhaps get a picture or two.

          There was no easy way to the top and I would have had to scale my way up. In my younger days I would not have hesitated. But today I just followed the path back to the bike, enjoying a handful of wild raspberries I found along the way.

          Back at the bike I took the opportunity to just listen as I rehydrated and replenished. There were no human sounds except for a jet far overhead and I listened to The Keepers whispering a welcome. The gentle breeze, the birds, and even the rustling of a chipmunk are their voices.

          I was introduced to The Keepers many years ago as a young boy by my dad.

          We were out for a walk through the woods on our way to the local reservoir where we would eat a little packed lunch before returning home.

          On our way there we paused, and dad told me to just stop and listen. Then, as I sat listening now, there were no human sounds. Just the sound of the deep woods. Dad asked me what I heard, and I replied that I heard the birds and the wind in the trees, but I felt like someone was watching. “Good, that’s the …. watching out for us.”

          Unfortunately, time has erased just what dad called those spirits. So, it is for that reason I now refer to them as The Keepers.

          After packing my camera and other accoutrements back on the bike I continued my journey to my next destination, Hyner View.

          Route 144 will take me to the town of Renovo and there I take Route 120 East to the small town of Hyner and up to Hyner View State Park which sits high on top of the Alleganey Mountain range where I hoping to get some pictures of the valley below and If I’m real lucky, there’ll be some hang gliders or parasailers to watch and photograph.

          After the boulder the road continues through some deep secluded woods and along the way I enjoyed the passing of a deer and a couple of wild turkeys as I traveled the last fifteen miles or so before reentering civilization at the town of Renovo.

          I made a right turn at the stop light at the junction of Route 144 and continued on Route 120 for about six miles then headed up the three-mile winding and curvy road to the summit of the mountain and Hyner View State Park.

          I was hoping to find someone parasailing or paragliding but what I found there was even better. I was the only one on the summit and I took advantage of the moment to take in the spectacular view and take some photos while enjoying the solitude.

          I decided it would be a good time to find some shade and break open my snacks. I was about halfway through my cheese crackers and jerky when I heard a familiar sound. A biker couple was approaching, and I waved as they parked their bike and took in the view.

          The couple stayed but a few minutes and another friendly wave by both parties left me alone to finish my jerky and crackers and take in a final view of the valleys below. I did not want to leave the serenity and calm of this place with its spectacular view, and I wished my wife was with me to enjoy them together.

          Packing up my bike for the ride home I experienced a brief moment of uneasiness. I had been having problems with the bike, for the past few days, starting. It had been hard to start and would turn-over slow. I found the ground cable to be slightly corroded and I hoped my fix of cleaning the cables would not let me down so far up the mountain and far away from any help. My trepidation was unfounded when she fired up and roared to life.

          Riding down the mountain I came upon a Timber Rattlesnake warming itself in the middle of the road. It was stretched out to about four feet in length basking in the sun and had about three sets of rattles on its tail. I didn’t wish to harm the serpent. It meant no harm to me. This was his domain, and I was the intruder. But I did pick my feet up in case I startled him into striking. He made no such move, and I quietly thanked the dark creature as I passed.

          The way home was uneventful, and the traffic was light. I took my time and enjoyed the final few hours ride home admiring the green and lush mountain scenery and the view from Route 120 overlooking the west branch of the Susquehanna River.

          Often on my mechanized wanderings I learn a thing or two and today was no different. I’d like to pass the small bit of wisdom on to you, if I may….

          If you ever store beef jerky in your pack, be it for snack or emergency. Don’t forget toothpicks!!!