The Allegheny Front Trail

 

All smiles heading off on the Allegheny Front Trail

As part of my Pennsylvania Wilds Wander, I embarked on a third loop, Allegheny Front Trail (AFT). This approximately forty-mile trail winds through the southern portion of Moshannon State Forest and encircles Black Moshannon State Park. The Allegheny Front is a geological feature, a striking escarpment that travels from southern Pennsylvania into western Virginia and demarks the Ridge-and-Valley Appalachians and the Appalachian Plateau. I find it difficult to rate trails, for each trail offers its magic, but this loop definitely was one of my favorites on this journey and one that I will most certainly return to again. 

First vista traveling clockwise from Rattlesnake Pike (Route 504)

The trail started off with incredible vistas. I began at the eastern end of Rattlesnake Pike (Route 504) and headed clockwise (south). Almost instantly, I was rewarded with several views. From my perches, I peered into various hollows and the mountains beyond including Bald Eagle and Nittany valleys, Tussey Mountain which I walked for miles on the Mid State Trail, and Seven Mountains. The walking was tricky through here. I watched my steps carefully over wobbly rocks, especially with Amos on the scent. The scent of a porcupine I'd soon discover. Thankfully, we startled him as much as he startled us and after tumbling over himself, ol' porky waddled and Amos waited till he was out of sight to start his howling and pulling. It is without a doubt in a coonhound's nature to seek any moderately sized plump critter, even when covered in sharp spines.

Luminescent moss and autumn's acorns

As we stumbled over rocks, cushiony moss softened our steps and cast a green glow through autumn's multicolored woods. Maple and tupelo leaves bled red while those of birch and the great big leaves of tree-climbing grape vines shone yellow. When we descended to easier turf, we explored Black Moshannon's bog, periodically walking carefully laid boardwalks and puncheons over the soggiest of spots.

Amos en route through the bog

At times the sun shone so bright that despite the marked change in temps - cool and crisp - we still sweat and squinted. Yet we found reprieve in the forested portions of the bog where rhododendrons, eastern hemlocks, and yellow birches thrived. I will warn, despite how lovely these boardwalks look, they are slip and slides in the moist woods, especially with an Amos at the helm. After landing flat on my back, I took to side stepping them. Good thing my very large pack provides an excellent landing pad.

Walking through a densely forested portion of the bog

Most nights we camped wherever we found a spot, which was remarkably easy on the Allegheny Front Trail. There were also countless established, although not official, campsites marked by a fire ring and a cleared patch. Really, I hadn't known at all what to expect on this trail. I had a map that I'd acquired from the state forest, which showed creeks and elevation changes, but mileage was tough to estimate. There were no campsites marked, nor did I have those insights that a guidebook would typically provide like if a creek ran year-round or seasonally. Before I left for the trail, I scoured the internet and did find one helpful site: Allegheny Front Trail Backpacking Guide — Into the Backcountry (intothebackcountryguides.com). I marked down some significant points from this fella's Caltopo map on my paper map and also tried my hand at All Trails, although I wouldn't figure out how to really use this app till the end of the trail. You can infer my level of tech ability. To my surprise, the trail did prove to be well marked, sometimes with signage that provided mileage from one significant point to another. Although, knowing little about the Allegheny Front Trail and approaching it bare bones honestly only contributed to the journey - around every bend was a surprise - and enhanced my own sense of accomplishment at the end.

Camp on our third night along Black Moshannon Creek

On our second day, we walked golden forest through young black birches and more sassafras saplings than I have ever seen in one understory in my life. I cracked twigs periodically to breathe deep their fragrant candy-like aromas. Great vases of witch hazel would later appear in young oak woods, where I spied spidery yellow blossoms at eye level and listened to the sound of acorns plunking to the forest floor. Birds flitted to and fro and it seemed all the forest was alive despite the presence of fall. Wolf Rocks revealed small caves and sizable keyholes, and I wondered if we'd stumbled upon the home of Ol' Porky's relatives and close friends, evidenced by the piles of porcupine scat.

Witch hazel flower (Hamammelis virginiana)

Amos peering at Wolf Rocks, home to one of his favorite critters

                                                   

Piles of pellet-like porcupine scat

Along Six Mile Run, we dug into what I found to be the most challenging, yet also most beautiful part of this trail. A road bridge carried us across to the creek's wooded banks where first we walked amidst a plantation of towering red pine and then through spacious shaded hemlock woods where it seemed everywhere we looked was a lovely campsite. By the next day, when we still walked along Six Mile Run, the trail transformed into tunnels of rhododendron. We wound up and down through leathery-leaved corridors, oftentimes to avoid dipping into the creek by which we walked so close. Rhodos crept in so close that I swooshed and ducked, and they snatched my sunglasses clean off my head! Although I wouldn't realize until miles later when we emerged into blindingly bright sun. A minor loss on the AFT.

Red pine plantation (Pinus resinosa)

Trail along Six Mile Run

Morning fog along Six Mile Run and AFT

Rhododendron tunnel (Rhododendron sp.)

On this third day we crossed paths with what the locals call Red Mo'. Red Mo', labeled Moshannon Creek on maps, due to mine contamination, runs orange. Tragically the creek supports little life and is not fit for consumption. It is a predominant waterway in the region, wide and fast-moving, decorated with boulders that look like easter eggs half dipped in orangey dye and framed with dense deep green rhodo forests. Still, in the abundant sun, the creek sparkled, and I mourned for this body of water that surely use to nourish a valley of people and animals and plant life. Amos couldn't figure why I wouldn't let him take a dip or drink.

Moshannon Creek aka Red Mo'

Neighboring creeks, like Tarks Run and Black Moshannon, ran clear. And after climbing from rhodo woods and walking grassy forest road through an understory of huckleberry, in the company of milkweed gone to seed, we descended once more, this time atop a carpet of wintergreen, to these vital waters. Campsites abounded, likely frequented by the substantial college student constituent in nearby State College (just thirty minutes away). Still, even on a weekend, we had a lovely camp all to ourselves, sheltered by the boughs of eastern hemlocks and nestled amidst rhodos. 

Black Moshannon Creek, altogether different from Moshannon Creek

Milkweed (Asclepias syriaca) gone to seed. At this stage the seeds are still packed tightly within the pod, however when ripe, the then papery pod will crack open and cottony-tufted seeds will burst forth.

Our fourth and final day, we spent our first couple miles navigating a winding labyrinth of you guessed it, rhodo. However here these tough shrubs were carefully pruned so that we easily walked beneath their twining boughs. I felt as if we walked a passage from one realm to another, a secret tunnel of sorts. And when we finally emerged into hemlock woods, we found two sweet souls, Kat and Jeanie. These two women were out for an overnight and although we chatted for only twenty minutes, I felt as if I could have spent the afternoon with them. We talked trail - they had done numerous PA trails, some more than once - and plants - Kat had trained with a wise ol' herbalist by the name of Evelyn Snook - and they even offered up their home as refuge from the storms that were said to roll in that evening. The trail is a unique place that way. A place where complete strangers can still meet and greet one another openly and without distraction, the only motive to share stories and connect. Perhaps because this is what all the natural world is doing in one way or another - sharing, communicating, adapting and striving together - that we, too, subconsciously tune into this way of being. We need more of this way of being, this sort of kinship, in our human-centered domain.

So many tiny waterfalls and wading pools on the last day, each turn in the rhodo labyrinth revealed another.

The rest of our last day we walked brilliant, sun-filled woods where oaks stood tall, showing off their still-green leaves. We wound up and down and over easy path and I reveled in a feeling of lightness, this strength and balance that my body, and clearly Amos' too, had cultivated in the last few weeks. The sun warmed my skin, swift easy movement came naturally, and the scent of autumn was released in every step. All else fell away. This was now and this was all we needed. The day was good. Hiking, long-distance hiking, in particular, does that, for it can take awhile to slough the everyday mental clutter, the overstimulation, the ever-present awareness of time and responsibilities. But go outside, hike, be in that place through which your body moves, and it is revealed. We are graced with beauty, with nourishment, with what we need when we need it most ad infinitum. Just look around. Listen. Be still. Be wild.

Amos looking wildly happy!