I arrived in Harrisburg at about 7:30 am and located the John Harris mansion without difficulty. When I first ran across a reference to this house, it didn't immediately occur to me that Mr. Harris was, in fact, the founder of Harrisburg. Sometimes I'm a little slow to catch on to the obvious... Anyway, the house was every bit as stately as could be for a place constructed in 1764.
It also offers a beautiful view of the Susquehanna River. For those of you who've been there, you know that the river is crossed by a half-dozen or more bridges leading into Harrisburg. This early in the morning, the low sunlight from behind the bridges acted just like electric lights under the arches—and a pretty sight it was.
The exposure from the downstream (sunny side) of the bridges, and a little later in the morning, was quite different, as pictured here with one of the old railroad crossings.
Did you notice the tiny white dot near the middle of the last picture? It proved to be this white egret, perched on the only rock in the river.
After looking around at some of the other old houses and churches along the riverfront in downtown Harrisburg, I set off for the rest of the tour. Not far outside of the city is Fort Indiantown Gap, which currently serves as the main training facility for the National Guard. On a previous trip a couple years back, I'd tried to find the supposedly nearby ruins of the Cold Springs Resort Hotel. After hiking several miles on foot, I failed in that effort but had apparently gotten within just a couple hundred feet of the ruins before the darkness, the woods, the off-season hunters, and my lack of any light other than a camera flash persuaded me to give up. I'll go back again one day, armed with an AWD vehicle...
On my current trip, I detoured briefly into the Gap to get a picture I'd missed previously—but I ended up on the wrong road. Before long, I'd gone by several "No Civilian Vehicles Allowed" signs and was deep into military territory. Fortunately, no one was around that early in the morning to run me off, and I was able to find some interesting alternative things to photograph. This one was my favorite. (I'm sure you will all recall that IED stands for "improvised explosive device"...)
Of course, I did have the sensation of being watched while I motored around the Gap. As best I could tell, it was only this hawk and a few of his neighbors.
Speaking of the Cold Springs Resort, its owner in 1878, Israel Brandt, fell into financial straits and eventually conspired with 3 other men to take out a large insurance policy on an innocent nearby resident. With the help of a couple of additional conspirators, said neighbor drowned a few months later. The group became known as the "Blue Eyed Six," since they all had blue eyes. The other thing they had in common was that they were all caught, found guilty, and, with one exception, hanged for their role in the murder and fraud. Not far from the hotel site, the old Moonshine Church cemetery is reputed to be a hotbed of paranormal activity associated with the Blue Eyed Six. As it happens, however, none of them is buried there—although the murder victim is. The church itself didn't appear all that old. Local legends insist that if a car's engine is turned off next to the church, it won't restart. The Z4, happily, did just fine.
The story of the murder, by the way, is available at Blue Eyed Six. A more detailed account has been written by the great-grandson of one of the gang, at Trial. Their dastardly deed led to major insurance reform, with one result being that you could no longer purchase life insurance for an individual unless you had an appropriate interest in him/her (e.g., a spouse or a business partner). It's amazing what history lurks in the middle of an uncharted forest, miles from a proper road. I'll find those ruins yet!
Continuing on, I soon came to a tiny house that was falling apart in all different directions. The good news was that none of it fell on the BMW (and the car restarted again without difficulty).
Pine Grove proved to be an enchanting little town, complete with scenic lake...
...scenic geese...
...and a scenic wrecking yard?
The town itself featured too many beautiful old houses to count, and the occasional storefront window featuring "Holsum" Bread (the first time I'd seen such a sign in decades).
My wife looked at this picture and tentatively thought that the plant is a Prunus Autumnalis or Fall-blooming cherry tree. But she wasn't sure and invites other thoughts. (Jody? Calling Ms. Flash!)
This Pine Grove mansion was the kind of place that I've always wanted to live in...
...and this was where I'd like to see a movie sometime.
Near Taylorsville, Mahanoy Creek showed evidence of the prior day's drenching rains.
When was the last time you bought Mobilgas and received S & H Green Stamps?? This nifty little service station is now a museum outside of Shamokin.
Shamokin itself featured another round of great old dwellings and other buildings, including the Washington School (minus its original cupola)...
...and this picturesque, stately home.
But the real reason for going to Shamokin was to pick up Route 125 south, described by Chris Myers as "one of those 'WOW!' roads that no motorcyclist should miss. Undulating wildly downhill into a steep vale, the serpentine esses suddenly thrust me back into mountain roads full of peg-scraping switchbacks that tax my mettle and metal." I enjoyed the drive so much that—most uncharacteristically—I have no pictures of it whatsoever.
I had to stop briefly in Gowen City to get a picture of this one-time center of commerce. While I was taking pictures, at least 10 motorcycles flashed by, ranging from sportbikes to cruisers—all enjoying the twisting elevation changes of Route 125.
After turning off 125, I encountered an almost nonexistent town with the unlikely name of "Rough and Ready," PA. The Salem United Church of Christ stood like a sentinel, guiding me to the town.
Nearby, I found an abandoned building that was either (i) a former hotel, or (ii) a gigantic farmhouse. No kidding—it was huge. And empty. And, with the addition of darkness and a storm, it would have been downright scary.
A slight detour off my planned route revealed a beautiful country road and a slightly surreal farm scene. Were some of the cattle actually red? Could the green scum of the pond peacefully coexist with the brilliant blue reflection of the sky?
Okay, so I vowed to take a break at the next town! Klingerstown appeared soon enough but appeared to be virtually a ghost town. No people, no animals. No McDonalds...
Then, as if from out of a mist, a Royal Enfield 500 "Bullet" appeared, parked next to a creek-side retaining wall built in 1938 as a WPA project.
With my head spinning at such an unexpected development, I was relieved to find that its owner, Mark, was a real-live being, out for a fun day of motorcycle touring. We compared notes on places to see, roads to tackle, and the relative merits of a 1950s motorcycle design versus BMW's current technical wizardry. It was a fun interlude and representative of the frequent ad-hoc conversations that will always occur when you ride a Royal Enfield or drive a Z4. Ride safe, Mark, and don't forget to try Route 125!
Back on the road, I traversed Fearnot Road without apprehension and turned west onto Route 25. There were many Amish families riding along in their wagons on this road, and it was fun to see them and reflect on the vast differences in their lifestyles and beliefs compared to my own.
Just outside of Berrysburg, I saw a sign for St. John's Evangelical Lutheran Church, with a date of 1738. Needless to say, this merited a detour to investigate. The church itself was handsome and imposing, but it looked quite a bit newer than the sign had suggested. Its cemetery, however, clearly dates back to 1738. As usual, I was on the wrong side of the sun for a picture (but took one anyway):
The exposure on the other side was far better, but there wasn't a good vantage point. As a result, I settled for this vertiginous example showing that Pennsylvania, too, has its fair share of elevation changes.
At the end of Route 25, one discovers the beautiful little town of Millersburg, right on the banks of the Susquehanna. Adding to its Scenery Quotient, Wiconisco Creek runs through the southern end of the town and empties, here, into the Susquehanna.
Continuing on through the back streets of Millersburg, I happened across this small group of motorcyclists. They were either admiring the view or waiting for something—and it turned out that both possibilities were correct.
As I watched, the Millersburg Ferry approached, crossing the river with several cars, motorcycles, and miscellaneous passengers.
Approaching the east side of the Susquehanna, the ferry had to back into its landing. This maneuver required a certain amount of skill, since the ferry is propelled by twin stern paddlewheels—and I think they only propel forwards. The rest of the 180˚ turn required drifting with the current and working the rudder. I believe this is the last ferryboat operating on the Susquehanna and the last stern paddlewheel ferryboat operating anywhere in the U.S. Take a ride on it while you can!
After Millersburg, I looped northward along the river for another 10 miles or so before turning off for various roads back to Harrisburg. I only stopped a couple of times more to take photo's, and the only one that makes me smile was this little fellow who, naturally, followed me everywhere I'd go.
All told, the trip was about 350 miles, with the interesting part, starting and ending in Harrisburg, representing 180 miles of the total. As usual, the Z4 ran perfectly and provided strong acceleration, outstanding handling, and a pretty much perfect vantage point from which to explore this part of Pennsylvania.
Rick F.
PS: If anyone's interested, the Harrisburg, PA Shamrock Tour article can be purchased from RoadRunner at This Link. I don't have any connection to the magazine, other than being a subscriber, but I can wholeheartedly recommend the magazine for those interested in motorcycle (or sports car) touring in the U.S.
TedV
