Page 26 - Indulge April/May 2017

man cave
but take the right steps in preparing for your journey
By Patrick O’Donnell
If you’re anything like me, February’s unseasonably warm
weather gave you a serious case of spring fever. Mine
struck during a belated Valentine’s getaway in Jim Thorpe;
an afternoon trip on the Lehigh Gorge Scenic railway with
my sweetheart was the tipping point. As the train clattered
and swayed over a trestle, we watched an eagle soaring
high above the Lehigh. The water sparkled in the sunlight;
the mountain was greening up; there were scores of people
on the bike trail, and I knew if I didn’t get out in the woods them slippery ingredients in a recipe for a potential disaster.
soon, I might very well lose what little mind I had left.
That Monday morning, I headed over to Glen Onoko
Falls. I’d been on this Carbon County trail once before,
during my days as an Explorer Scout. We did a winter
hike, along trails that were icy and snowy. Much of the
stream was frozen solid — in fact, we returned by sliding
down portions of it on our butts. It wasn’t exactly an easy
hike, but we had the right gear, were careful and returned
uninjured and rejuvenated.
Fast forward more years than I’ll count here, and the
first thing I notice is that there are several signs along the interrupt, but Mom waved him off, smiled at me and nodded
trail carrying dire warnings about death and injury. During
that long-ago hike, I think there was one sign marking the
trailhead, and a few blazes on the trees after that to mark
the way — nothing else.
Yet the signs, it seems, are a necessary evil. Glen Onoko
has seen its share of deaths and serious injuries. It’s a
steep, rocky trail that follows a stream called the Glen Onoko
Run. Any place where the trail gets close to the stream and
waterfalls, the ground is damp. Algae covers the rocks, making
I had boots and a sturdy walking stick the day I hiked,
but I passed plenty of folks in sneakers, including a young
couple with their daughter. The little girl, all curls, smiles
and bubbly excitement, looked to be about 3 or 4, and she
was wearing rain boots. I was on my way down at that point,
almost at the bottom of the trail, and the mom stopped me
to ask how far up the waterfalls were. Dad seemed eager to
press on, and I knew he wasn’t thinking about the potential
peril. I explained to Mom that it wasn’t an easy hike, and
that it would be a good idea to have proper footwear. “So
this is for real, then,” she asked. “Yes,” I said. Dad started to
when, looking pointedly at the little girl’s cheerful blue and
yellow boots, I said, “use your own judgment.” I had a feeling