The Quehanna Trail: An Eastern Loop

 

Amos crossing the bridge over Red Run

The Quehanna Trail is no ordinary trail. It may be located in what some believe to be ordinary woods in the heart of Pennsylvania. But this, too, would be untrue. These forests and meadows are extraordinary and the Quehanna Trail provides one with an opportunity to journey through them at whatever pace one desires. We took our time, completing our eastern loop of roughly 40 miles in 5 days. And what I can tell you is after our roughly 10 days in this wilderness it is a liminal place, a threshold between the mundane and wondrous. This place seeps into you quietly, and you don't quite notice the effect it's had until you step out of it, returning to the place from whence you came different than you were before.

The forest in morning fog

We were faced with some weather on this leg. We set out on the most gloriously beautiful mid-seventies, crisp, clear day knowing that the forecast called for rain, rain, and more rain. However, I believed the Trail Gods would have our back. And I do believe this place did too. Although, even if it cast some concern into the back of my mind, it contributed to the experience. It slowed us down and gave us time here.

Given that it is already past hiker bedtime, and I have more planning to do for our next loop - more on that near the end - I am going to bring you some highlights. 

The makeshift bridge that replaced the very sturdy bridge, both of which Mosquito Creek has        tossed ashore.

Crossing Mosquito Creek was definitely a highlight for me. The guidebook warns that this creek should by no means be attempted during high water. It may prove impassable and provides a final warning four miles away to detour now or face your fate. However, I'd chatted with other hikers who had crossed it. They shared photos of this bridge that you see above. Back when it had two logs and two railings. This bridge was created from a couple fallen logs when a very sturdy metal one (which can also still be found ashore) that had been placed by a helicopter washed away. I knew to expect just one log now thanks to yet another hiker's photo from May. But when I met a hiker out here who'd just crossed it, I learned that that "bridge", too, was now gone. However, his report was that it was very passable. So, I went for it. I had visions of tossing Amos over my shoulders and carrying him through raging waters. Building a raft. Slinging my bear rope across the expanse and pulling us ashore. None of that happened. Even after a thunderstorm (and tornado warning) the night before. We survived Mosquito Creek. Although, be warned, the embankments are steep and the first bridge solid, so this creek has some power when conditions are right.

Mountain Wood Sorrel (Oxalis montana)

The plants and, oh my, the mushrooms along this stretch of trail. Porcupine Draft was such an experience that I forgot all about the impending rain and stumbled over the rocky trail and blowdowns botanizing the whole way. Here were magnificent sugar maples, basswood, and tulip poplar. Some of these trees would require three people to wrap their arms all the way around. They towered to the sky, so that my only indication of what they were was by bark and leaves on the ground. These mature trees provided just the habitat for an array of herbaceous plants: wood nettle, Virginia waterleaf, doll's eyes, mountain wood sorrel, red-flowering raspberry, wild anise, and hepatica. I can only imagine the ephemerals that must fill this snaking, watery gorge in spring.

Doll's Eyes (Actaea pachypoda)

 

Virginia Waterleaf (Hydrophyllum virginianum)

Tulip poplar leaf (Liriodendron tulipifera)

And the mushrooms. Well, the conditions were just right given the cool temps and fresh rainfall for a flush of fungi. I wished I had the ability to collect while I was hiking. But the last thing I am going to do is add weight to this pack and, well there's just no good way to store them. So, I admired them all as I met them instead. Bursting forth from downed logs and decaying trees were chicken of the woods, turkey tail, birch polypore and velvety resinous polypore.

                                                               Turkey Tail (Trametes versicolor)

                                                      Chicken of the Woods (Laetiporus sp.)

Resinous polypore (Ischnoderma resinosa)

The colony of white birches set in a fern-filled meadow was enchanting in the early morning fog. There are few places in Pennsylvania in which you'll find white birch (Betula papyrifera) naturally growing. They can also be found in abundance in the Marion Brooks Natural Area which the East Cross Connector Trail borders on one side. White birch trees have eyes where branches once were and one tree, in particular, caught my eye. A bear perhaps? Or a mysterious message?

                                                           White Birch (Betula papyrifera)

Speaking of sighted trees, the boulders which keep vigil over this place began to reveal their faces. This one sat along the lengthy climb out of Mosquito Creek. When I came in for a closer look, this boulder also revealed the community of plants thriving within his crevices and cracks and collected soil: tiny birch saplings, a single mountain laurel shoot, cushiony haircap moss. 

                                                             Boulder keeping vigil

The views along this eastern loop were a nice surprise. They were striking given that the Quehanna Trail does not provide a lot of far-ranging views and provided a highlight to the few more challenging climbs along the trail. 

                                                                        Vista of gorges 

And my goodness, I could go on. The pale-yellow young birch forests. The enchanting rhododendron tunnel that is Sander's Draft rife with tiny waterfalls and wading pools. The great big bull elk that clattered out of the forest and onto our grassy path while Amos was wading in a muck hole - that was a highlight. The picture is so poor, it doesn't do him justice, this elk of the liminal forest that harkened of my father. The rattlesnake today coiled in the moss inches from our feet while in the last couple miles of trail heading towards Wykoff Run Road - we detoured through the maze of rhodos on the embankment to give him a good berth. That, startling as it was, was still a highlight. 

                                                          At the end of Quehanna Trail

And now, Amos and I set our sights on a return to the Susquehannock Trail. We hiked the southern two-thirds of this trail back in 2022. The northern loop remains. And still there is rain on the horizon, but if that means long mornings in lean-to's and soggy evenings in the tent, so be it. Amos says it's way better than the Quality Inn.

                         Sometimes a tent is just what you need to feel at home in a strange place