HISTORICAL HOMECOMING--Trip 2

In Tara's New York country neighbor-hood, the scene was one of winter beauty. But in town after town from Grahamsville, New York, to the Hudson River, the storm took its toll. Stop and go lights at intersections hung black and unlit. Last night's 12 inches of snow played havoc with the power. Gas stations, silent and empty, had taped the pumps with yellow CAUTION signs. No electricity, so no power. Hence, no gasoline. We wondered what we would find closer to the water.

Every curve on Interstate #84 brought traffic slow-downs with cars spun out and trucks in the ditches. The radio reported one and a half million customers still out of power, as the snow took down leaf-covered branches.

"Damage is incredible. Unprecedented power outages. Unprecedented destruction," said the newscaster.

We headed home. "The earlier the snow, the less we typically get," said Andy. "If that's true, this will be an easy winter."
But we knew cleaning up October wouldn't be so easy.

"Historic," said Governor Daniel Malloy about outages in Connecticut. "Roads and lawns are littered with branches. More than 840,000 customers are out of electricity in the state. We've never had so many out from a fall storm."
United Illuminating and Connecticut Light and Power (CL&P) warned it might take more than a week to restore power. "There's damage every couple of feet in Litchfield," added a company representative.

West Milford, New Jersey, near Port Jervis got 19 inches. "We were just there," said Andy. And by Sunday evening we learned that more than 32 inches of snow had piled up in a few Massachusetts towns. But Connecticut took it the worst overall with more than 840,000 customers out of power and leaf-covered trees down everywhere.

Four days later, CL&P reported that more than 420,000 in Connecticut were still without power. That was nearly as many as the count when Hurricane Irene devastated the state earlier in the year. In the towns of Seymour and Oxford, 100 percent of the customers claimed no power on Thursday, nearly five full days after the Saturday night barrage.

But we lucked out. We came home to the aftermath of the worst October snow storm in the state's history, and, even though we lost six trees, our lights only flickered once.

NOR'EASTER TEASER--Trip 2

Winter arrived. Even though the calendar said the official season was two months away, winter came today with a blast of icy chill. At noon, temperatures dropped from 37 degrees to a bone-chilling 25 degrees, and snow fell. It started with a fine misty layer that filled the air with tiny white crystals. Thirty minutes later, the flakes covered the grass and bushes.
"I figure a generous inch," said Tara, looking at the weeping cherry tree near her front door about 2 p.m.

By 6 p.m. the plow had been by twice, three inches of icicles plunged from the edge of her roof, a blanket of white draped across the truck hood and roof, a couple inches of heavy powder balanced on the telephone wire and all the bushes wore white cloaks. The lights flickered once, and I gathered up a few already burned candles and jacked up the heat. It was going to be a long night.

The world outside every window was a pristine white winter wonderland, with five inches blanketing the ground and more huge flakes coming down in gentle sheets as night settled in.

ROCKY ROADS--Trip 2

Hickory Run State Park in Pennsylvania preserves a glacial boulder field 400 feet wide by 1,800 feet long and estimated to be at least 12 feet deep in most areas. As the glaciers from the last Ice Age retreated some 15,000 to 20,000 years ago, they dumped rocks of all sizes and shapes here in eastern Pennsylvania in the Pocono Mountains.

On this crisp, cold October morning, the more reddish rocks retained a fine glaze of ice. We stepped gingerly, odd for clambering over boulders.

"Be careful," warned Andy.

He didn't need to tell me. Some of the huge rocks wobbled under foot. A light dusting of snow covered others closer to the ground. I picked my way warily, securing my footing and trying to avoid ankle-twisting crevices. I felt ridiculously clumsy, but no one else visited the boulder field to watch my antics. We were alone on a massive highway of rocks, stretching as far as we could see.
"Just think," said Andy, as we turned onto Interstate #80, "this is all going to be covered by snow tomorrow. Right now, it's in good shape." Dry and clear, the highway stretched before us with little traffic. Snow on leafless beeches and birches had melted, leaving the air fresh and clean as we headed northeast. Wisps of cirrus clouds swept in high swirls across the highway in a mostly blue sky.
What a contrast to yesterday and tomorrow!

Hialeah Picnic Area in the Delaware Water Gap combined all the colors of fall in one glorious display: the wild beauty of tree-covered hills accented by the dried stalks of cultivated corn fields. "This was one of the nicest stretches of Appalachian Trail," said Andy. "The trail is right over there." He pointed across the Delaware River. "You'd never expect this in New Jersey."

Canada geese browsed at Smithfield Beach. Andy chased them into flight so I could snap pictures. They took off, honked angrily in response, banked and headed for the safety of the river.

Bushkill Access, a boat launch area closed for the winter, provided beautiful views of the Delaware River.

Pocono Environmental Education Center (PEEC) had five marked trails. We chose the 1.5-mile Two Ponds Trail with its diverse habitats around Pickerel Pond and Front Pond.
The 1.5 miles circled from the Visitor Center through shrub wetlands with muddy soils. The cold temperatures precluded any snakes, but I watched anyway. We could still hear frogs in the nearby pond. At the edge of the open field, red cedars and dogwood thrived. The trail continued to emergent wetlands with wild grape vines and skunk cabbage. A dragon fly lit on a Virginia creeper vine as I read the Two Ponds Trail Guide. "This area supports beaver," I told Andy. We could see gnawed stumps. "It says a beaver can chew through a tree six inches in diameter in five minutes. Maybe you need one of those in conjunction with your chain saw."

He didn't think it was funny.
Past an old logging road, we noticed blackened bark on the lower trunks of many larger trees, evidence of the 1979 forest fire, started accidentally by a hunter. Closer to the Visitor Center, as the trail circled back, I photographed the colorful understory of shrubs, topped by delicate white pine. The trail turned into a mixed oak forest with shag bark hickory before it crossed Alicia's Creek for the return quarter mile. By the time we got back, stratus clouds whitened the southern sky, and the third graders, in a classroom learning center with the park ranger earlier, had retired to the cafeteria.
The toll collector at the bridge at Dingeman's Ferry employed an unusual and undoubtedly profitable technique. "It's only a quarter," said Andy.

I pulled out a bill. The toll collector took it, flagged us across and turned to collect from a car going the other way.

"Did you see what he did?" asked Andy. "He's collecting both directions at the same time!"

We followed a narrow gravel road several miles to Buttermilk Falls and climbed to the top. Fallen logs set into the hillside provided steps, but some were more than two feet apart instead of just one. "That was some climb," said Andy, when we got back to the car.
Several times we followed roads in the park that dead ended with "ROAD CLOSED" signs. "Something happened here that caused severe damage," said Andy. "It must be washout, since if it were just downed trees, they could clear it up quickly."

"Rocky road," I said. "Not sweet."

And he agreed.
All along our route just outside the park, small trucks stopped in the pullouts near the woods, a sure sign of hunters at this time of year. But we didn't hear shot gun pops, so it must be bow season. No signs of kills. No animals, besides squirrels, in sight.
By the time we left Delaware Water Gap and headed north, the weather changed. White sky hinted of the promised Nor'easter for tomorrow, and the breeze picked up, sending in a few grey clouds and colder temperatures. When we reached Grahamsville, New York, a blustery wind chilled the air to 39 degrees. Brrrrrrrrrrrr! Drew and Tara had both warned us about snow to come, as much as ten inches by afternoon tomorrow. Here, it feels like winter.