Promised
Land State Park, near Scranton
Saturday,
28 April 2018
Not
only does Pennsylvania have seasons for various kinds of hunting, it
has a season for dog training, which has recently ended. I’m
guessing it’s training for hunting dogs, but I’ve never heard of
an official season for it.
At
least this section of PA appears to be solidly Trump country. Today
I saw a sign in someone’s yard saying, “Trump in 2020.” Yesterday I saw a sign in someone else’s yard saying, “Thank God
for Trump.” And of course, many other Trump/Pence signs.
I
can get 2 TV stations at this campground – the local PBS station
and a FOX affiliate. I know there are other stations available with
a cable or in the bigger cities, but out here maybe the choices
describe the situation.
Today
I took some small state roads to go southeast from the park over
toward the Delaware Gap National Recreation Area. On the way I got
stopped in the middle of nowhere by a traffic light, and sat for a
while till it turned green. Seems there was a 1-lane road ahead
around a blind curve and this is the highway department’s way of
keeping people from killing each other when they’re not around. But it felt weird to be sitting at a red light with nothing around.
Along
the road I saw what looked like official street signs (green with
reflective lettering) that were clearly personally named: Annie’s
Place, Uncle Sam’s, Deer Lodge Road. Then I saw one that said
Notta Road, and I looked down it and sure enough, it wasn’t a road,
it was a driveway.
The
village of Analomink (okay, that’s creative) should be renamed
Forsythia Village. Some years ago the entire town (apparently)
planted forsythia bushes and today it’s a blaze of bright yellow
and gorgeous.
In
the small town of Canadensis I found St. John the Beloved Coptic
Orthodox Monastery.
Canadensis
is clearly a resort town in an old-fashioned way (nothing shiny, just
motels and restaurants that have been there for some years), even
though it’s 20 slow miles from the attractions. As the day went
on, I realized this whole area is geared for tourists. And then I
realized it’s in the Pocono Mountains, separated only by the
Delaware River from both New York and New Jersey, and that’s been a
vacation area for the city folks for decades. Movies from the 1960s
mention it.
The
azaleas have started to bloom in the Delaware River area.
I’d
thought about going to Bushkill Falls, which are part of the Natl.
Rec. Area and are supposed to be magnificent, but got stopped by two
things: one is that today is a warm sunny Saturday and many many
people are out enjoying it; the other is that the Falls (according to
its website) has been turned into a sort of destination with fake
gold panning for the kids and playgrounds and stuff – lots of stuff
– that has nothing (in my mind) to do with the glory of waterfalls,
and they charge a lot of money to get into it. I guess if it had
been a dreary Tuesday, I’d have paid the money, figuring I’d be
able to hike to the falls and have them much more to myself and the
way Nature intended. But not today.
In
one town traffic got stopped by police escorting a funeral procession
that was made up almost entirely of motorcycles. That was a new one
on me.
Dunkin
Donuts are everywhere, throughout Pennsylvania, even in very small
towns.
I’ve
been seeing more buildings that were built in the late 1880s and
early 1900s, and then I realized that’s about the same time frame
as the older houses in Texas and what was the big deal. And then I
came across Dingman’s Ferry, which is now a toll bridge to New
Jersey but was originally the site of one of the first ferries across
the Delaware, circa 1750. And farther up the road I stopped for a
bit at Milford, founded 1733. That’s old.
An
establishment in Milford had a sign in front saying, “Botox and
Brunch.” What on earth do you think they’re doing? I met a
group of 7 women, maybe in their late 30s, sitting on park benches in
the sun who wanted to pat the dogs. They told me they’re old
friends who get together once a year for a weekend, though most of
them still live nearby, but one has moved to Massachusetts. So far
away.
As
I was leaving Milford I saw a highway sign telling me Matamoras was 6
miles to the north. Now, this was a little disconcerting because, as
a born-n-raised Texan, I know exactly where Matamoros is and that
wasn’t it. Turns out there’s a town named Matamoras (spelled
differently) that sits exactly at the junction of PA and NY and NJ. A border town, of course.
The
campground literature has a whole section warning about bears. Seems
PA has the largest black bears in the US, with most of them in the
Poconos, and those in this county can grow over 800 pounds. That is
indeed pretty big for a black bear. Fortunately, we haven’t met
one yet – I’m sure Dexter would get himself shredded trying to
capture it.
This
park has absolutely masses of
wild rhododendrons. Makes me feel back home in western Washington.
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