Put me on my scooter and I perfect the art of getting lost. It's happened a few times on this trip. Trying to avoid riding on highways, I often look for alternate routes. Now in most places, where roads run in straight lines and street names make sense, that would work. But in the northeast that's not the case. Thankfully, I have come to appreciate being lost as a gift.
Today, I left my campground during a lull in the steady rainfall predicted for this weekend. I wanted to go to Curves a little over 6 miles from Beaver Valley Campground in Ottsville, PA. About half of my route was on a highway with 55 mph speed limit, but the extra wide shoulder allowed for fairly safe scooter riding. Of course, I got to Curves at 11:15 to find they closed at 11 on Saturday. Off I went to return home. But look... there's a road that seems to run parallel to the highway! I think I may ride that up toward Ottsville and see what I find. It shouldn't be hard then to find Durham Road which will take me back, I imagine.
These roads here take you through bucolic farm scenes with old stone houses and barns that have stood for a couple of centuries. The woodlands are relatively unspoiled and wildlife abounds. I caught a few deer off guard who seemed taken aback by this scooter. It wasn't much of a threat to them like a car would be. And since I was going slow I could stop easily enough to let them mosey on off the road into the forest again. Then there was the otter and a couple of squirrles that ran across so fast they caught ME off guard and I almost clipped them off. Murder by scooter....
I kept going to find the Lutheran Church with signs leading to it from almost every road I traveled. Cool looking church - although if I didn't know better I would guess it was an Episcopal church with it's bright red doors set off from the dark grey stone walls. Set against the green hills, this is a beautiful imposing church that looks far different from the usual little-white-steepled-country churches I'm used to.
Almost every mile I seem to come across yet another one-lane stone bridge. The roads themselves are barely wide enough for my scooter to meet a car, but these bridges are impossible. It adds to the sense of being in another century and another culture.
Before I know it, I'm riding alongside the Delaware River. Wait a minute! That's the border between PA and NJ. That's not getting me back to Beaver Valley. How many corners have I turned? How many curves did I follow? What direction am I going now? Just exactly how far north did I end up going? This river drive is so beautiful, and the old stone houses now almost all bear historic markers. I want to keep going, but I'm afraid I may end up in New York or something. Plus the rain is starting to fall again. So I turn back to try to retrace my path.
About this time I come across a man getting his mail so I stop to ask him how I can get back to Ottsville. He asks me if I want the easy way or the scenic way. What the heck, I've been lost already - give me the scenic way. It sounded easy enough - second right up the road on Municipal Drive. Then take a left on Hollow Horn Road (which sounded like Happy Hollow to my ears...I think, totally spacing out the rest of his directions) ...and that will bring you back to Hwy 611 at the Exxon station. OK - I'm set. Good thing too, because the rain starts coming down harder now.
Second right was quite a ways down the road, but I remembered it from my first run through. So far so good. Then I get to Happy Hollow - oops I mean Hollow Horn Road. Which way did he say to turn? Right? No... left? There's a police station on the corner, but I'm pretty sure he said left so I don't have to ask.
This is truly a scenic drive - as I pass through a dark tunnel of trees somewhat sheltering me from the steady rain. It keeps going and going and going. I glance at a street sign - Red Hill Drive??? What happened to Happy Hollow? I didn't turn anywhere. But this should still be ok because I remember that Ottsville used to be called Red Hill (I learned this from an historic sign somewhere) so I must be close. Now I hit an end where I must turn - there's a big old stone house on the corner, but I kind of remember the Direction Man telling me about a house with a big stone wall (they ALL have big stone walls...) and I think he may have said turn right? Or left? Geeez.
Another one lane bridge, another curve, another change in the name of the road. This can't be right. It's raining hard now... being lost suddenly doesn't seem like such a gift. So I decide to retrace my route again and stop at the police station for directions.
As I'm returning, I suddenly see a place where Hollow Hills or Happy Hollow or whatever that Hollow road is, turns. Which way did I come from? I know I didn't turn, so I must have gone straight - that's where it became Red Hill Road. And look, there's a house with a big stone wall, but it's so covered in ivy you can hardly tell.
I am
not going to take any chances. I am going to the police station to make sure I've going the right way. Sure enough - I was supposed to take that turn. So back I go again, making sure I watch every turn to see where that damn Hollow road goes. It turns a lot, I find out. Whatever happened to roads that go straight? Every time the Hollow road turns, another road goes straight off of it.... so what's up with that? I think Hollow-whatever-it-is must have been the original road meandering through the hills, and everything else was built off of it. Whatever.... it did finally take me back to Ottsville, and 2 hours after I left for Curves six miles away, I finally got back home with a sore butt and wet shorts below my raincoat.
But I sure did see some gorgeous places....
