Day #1. Staple Bend Tunnel hike

After leaving Johnstown, Lagniappe and I traveled to the parking lot that allows people to hike to the Staple Bend Tunnel, the first railroad tunnel in America, constructed between 1831 and 1834. It was used to get trains and boats (yes, boats) across the mountain range as part of an elaborate portage system that allowed canal passengers and even whole canal boats to move between the Susquehanna and Ohio rivers back in the 1800's. It was very elaborate and both capital and labor-intensive and the line fell out of service altogether in 1854. But the National Park Service maintains the old right-of-way and hikers can walk the two miles up to the tunnel, which is just what Lagniappe and I did.




Here's Lagniappe looking into the tunnel. He's cranky now because it's so hot (90 degrees) and I've been dragging him around all day. But the tunnel and it's cool 58 degree interior temperature beckoned so invitingly...








Through it we went.

So nice inside.







And on the other side, the exterior wall was covered with vintage graffiti carvings dating back to the late 1800's and early 1900's. Wow.




So then Lagniappe and I began the hike back to the van. My leg was already a bit sore, but I figured that it was worth it for this experience. Little did I know that I'd be seeing the tunnel again all too soon though. As I reached the half-way point on the trek back to the parking lot, I went to check my phone to see what time it was...and it wasn't there.
I checked all my pockets. Then I checked them again. I asked Lagniappe if he had the phone, and he denied it. So I checked my pockets yet again and still didn't find it. I remembered last seeing it when I checked the time back up at the tunnel. Oh no.

By this time, my leg was getting noticeably sore. But having no real choice, I began the trudge back to the tunnel, turning the four-mile hike into one almost seven miles long and adding another hour and change to our time spent there. I did find the phone, which was good, because be then I was hurting so bad that a call to the Sheriff or NPS rangers was tempting, but pride wouldn't let me wuss out and I finished the hike back under my own power, even though every footstep during that last mile or so hit me with pains from three separate spots. Lagniappe was wiped out too, and he knocked down two bottles of water all by himself as soon as we reached the van shortly after dusk.

Driving on looking for dinner, I'd decided that I had a good steak coming. I rolled across Route 22 looking for one, but it was late now and by the time I reached Blairsville, all appeared closed.However a sign for Dean's Diner beckoned and as I like the local color of the small non-chain places when I'm on the road, I stopped and limped inside. And sure enough, the menu boasted steaks. Perfect.

But alas, ten minutes or so after I ordered the steak, the waitress returned to tell me that the cooks had gone home early and that they were out of steaks. Turned out that they were out of other things that I asked about as well, so I finally settled on a cheeseburger and fries, and wouldn't you know it but the waitress forgets to order the fries so all I get is a very small burger and some greasy but stale potato chips. that certainly weren't worth the price. The waitress never bothered to check on me to see how the food was but she made it a point to ask me twice if I wanted to put her tip on my credit card bill. (I did not. I don't tip for bad service, especially when I'm sore and tired and in an overall bad mood.) Dean's may be a local institution but I'd recommend anyone traveling through Blairsville, PA avoiding it like the plague.


Lagniappe and I traveled on, eventually reaching the turnpike and crossing into Ohio, where we shut down and slept in the van between two big diesel trucks in the first service plaza that we found.