As we left Morgantown, PA we stopped to photograph the farm where our friend Paulson spent much of his youth. We saw people behind the old house (across the road from most of the farm) and talked to them, but the house had been sold off from the farm years ago. Nobody seemed to be home at the new house on Sunday morning.
The famous Kurtz farm, where Paulson spent the formative years.
Continuing on east, we arrived for our first visit to Valley Forge after first making a wrong turn (in heavy traffic) into an area that turned out to be owned by the Valley Forge foundation and which displayed a huge American flag. It turns out there was a huge ceremony recognizing recent Medal of Honor recipients, which explained some of the heavy traffic we were dealing with on a two lane road. Once into actual Valley Forge, touring by bicycle was the best way to explore the park.
A view from the other side of the meadow. Actually, I'm only including this picture because I like the way Rhona looks in this picture. Technically I committed a Federal violation by jumping over onto the other side of the fence into a restricted area in order to get the fence to frame the bottom half of the picture. This is as "artsy" as I ever get with my trip photography.
This is where the Baron instructed and drilled the ragtag militia troops. From this vantage he could look down on the formations (and they could see him). The meadow was the only place where they had sufficient room to practice the maneuvers involved in warfare of that time.
We had tried to connect to cousins living outside of Philadelphia but did not succeed until we reached Conshohocken via a bicycle crowded Schuylkill River trail. Cousin Kevan loaded us along with our gear in his truck and drove us to his home in Drexel Hill where we spent a great evening and night. Kevan and his wife Margie had just returned from a long drive from Pittsburgh where Margie received her Masters degree in Nursing at her Graduation ceremony. She and Kevan seemed to like having unannounced guests stay overnight after what was already a long tiring weekend. Cousin Kerrie and her son Nick joined us for pizza where we reminisced about growing up together. Nick and the spouses seemed to enjoy the stories.
Leaving Valley Forge we tried to follow the bike-pedestrian trail across the Schuylkill River bridge. We chose to go down the left path here.
We quickly found ourselves on a narrow path edged with poison ivy. Rhona does not get along with any kind of Ivy. She chose to scout out the correct route as I learned to back up the 15 ft. long tandem-trailer combination between poison ivy leaves. It's funny how a little poison ivy wonderfully concentrates your attention.
One of the few things harder than backing a tandem connected to a B.O.B. trailer along a poison ivy edged path is doing the same thing on a muddy bank under a bridge over a cliff above the river. Actually there were pretty impressive sound effects also since the vehicular traffic above our heads slammed metal panels on the bridge-road joints which reverberated wonderfully under the bridge. I could feel the vibration in my tooth fillings.
After getting on the correct path, we barely were able to make a sharp left turn onto a very narrow pedestrian path framed by fencing. Of course at that time a solitary cyclist was traveling the opposite direction and we were stuck. I couldn't go forward and couldn't go backward. It was just like seeing a tractor trailer truck stuck at a tight intersection. I stood as close to the bike as possible and sucked in my gut so the cyclist could pass us. Rhona didn't have to suck anything in.
It was nice to cruise onto the Schuylkill River trail into Conshohocken. The trail was quite crowded with bicyclists on a sunny Sunday. We are one of the relatively few bicycle riders in our home area, so it is refreshing to see so many others of like spirit.
In Conshohocken we stopped to use the restroom at a volunteer fire department. The guy in charge heard we were scouting for a hotel in town and the $269 a night prices we were quoted. He said we could have used one of the 10 bunks upstairs in the fire department building. If cousin Kevan hadn't been on the way to pick us up we might have taken him up on the offer. The firefighter was talking to a group of young boys on the street in front of the fire station (one of whom was a Junior Firefighter). The boys were all friendly and interested in concept of long distance bicycle touring. I liked that the guy was relating to the teenage boys and they were obviously connecting to him. That's the kind of male role models growing kids need.
