Our good group got together for a letterboxing triathlon this past weekend. We properly fueled up at Mad Mex where they were shocked and appalled that we were nothing like the PSU students who know how to consume plenty of alcohol before lunch time. The waiter nearly passed out because PA PAddler is such a lightweight when it comes to libations and was afraid to offer him anything other than prune juice.
It must have been that prune juice that put the sour look on PA Paddler's face and made him build a cootie barrier between him and the rest of the innocents at the lunch table. Hunter Jumper decided to order from a unique menu; a palette of well organized entrées that she had brought for everyone's enjoyment. When she has tasted every item, she intends to put the binder up for auction on eBay. The owner's approval is pending but, because jbzfarm generously picked up the lunch tab, I have no doubt you will see it listed sometime soon.
Serious storms threatened the area all day but that didn't keep anyone from hiking Mt. Nittany. I left the camera behind in case we got caught in a down pour but all we had were a few rumbles off toward MILESBURG. It was our reservations that evening at the
Elk Creek Cafe that called us from the ridge top before every letterbox was found.
Mososo Kruppe and PA PAddler took advantage of the sampler of microbrews. Consensus was that Elk Creek Copper Ale is the best. I must try it next time out. They also agreed that the Brookie Brown was quite good, the Winkleblink was like soda pop and the Big Trout Stout was a little flat for a stout beer.
Appetizers were enjoyed after exchanges and PTs were swapped. I enjoyed sharing Of Things Arcane and Mososo Kruppe allowed everyone to see if It could be your Luck Day! Some cute parody stamps were passed around and ideas started to pop up for future carving. After the food was tucked in the markers and stamps came out again much to the surprise of the wait staff and manager. We have yet another new group name, the Elk Creek Coloring Club. More t-shirts and patches are being designed, put your orders in now - supplies are limited to those who are chaff (and chaffed).
A nice blues band kicked in at 8PM but some of us needed to find accommodations for the night. We packed up our markers and stamps and went outside to watch what seemed to be a most ill fated parking job before driving back home. Jbzfarm went off to their remote and romantic campsite, 4Rhines had a nice room booked at the Stephen's Motel (they were very happy with this) and the rest of us had paid for places at 2201.
Trying to get a jump on the next morning we decided to put the bikes on the car and inner tubes in the hatch back but not before we got a call from jbzfarm. The road that lead to their campsite was blocked with one of those notorious PA black and yeller gates. They decided to take us up on an earlier offer of pitching their tent in our back yard.
The next morning I woke to be treated to bagels and cream cheese; jbzfarm beat us to the punch and went out to get a bag of breakfast goodies to fuel us for the bike ride. The 4Rhines came over and some kick @$$ cosmos were mixed in my kitchen. I have never had the scent of vodka and triple sec dominate my kitchen at 9AM and I got a little giddy just smelling them. Hunter Jumper mixed them with precision and packed them into her cooler for the afternoon.
Our caravan met on the far side of the Coburn tunnel and as we exited our vehicles I felt the need to grasp the door handle so I would not levitate. There was a whirring noise that sounded like space aliens were trying to beam us all up. It was all around us over head although it looked like any other beautiful day in Penns Valley. This was my introduction to the never ending call of the
17 year locusts. The volume of the noise was almost annoying and quite spooky. We joked about them a bit as we got onto our bikes and prepared for a few miles on the rail trail toward
Ingleby and beyond.
There were letterboxes to check out along the way. One letterbox had quite a steep and rocky climb to a view of Penns Creek and the Coburn trestle below. The happy hikers were careful not to mention to Stonefly (until later) that there was snake skin quite nearby. Successfully logged into one letterbox, we started down the trail for another .25 mile to pause for the same reason. It was this area that the cicadas were most vociferous. Undulating waves of drumming cicadas serenaded us as we pedaled on to Ingleby.
Five letterboxes were logged into along this trail before we had to turn around. Just like the day before, we had to leave a box unfound because we had plans to meet the rest of our party at a different location. Mososo Kruppe and Dabralady were going to be meeting us a few miles farther down Penns Creek to put in for the float.
Finally, the nine of us were all at one place at the same time; we have to make sure this happens at least once a year or terrible and monstrous things will certainly happen. Inner tubes were inflated, libations were chilled and a local fisherman waved to us as we put in near the trestle. The day was just right and water temperature (don't go by the initial look on Dabralady's face) turned out to be very nice.
PA Paddler and Hunter Jumper were the bar keeps and when the rapids allowed they served up a few potent treats. I rode in what PA Paddler called my dingy and tied RGBisMe to me for a while. The rapids kicked up again and I set him free so that he wouldn't get tangled and he spilled the last of the iced beverage we had been sharing.
RGBisMe and I daudled on the far bank for a while, trying not to give away the location of a letterbox that was right along the
creek. Eventually we saw them exploring the correct location and went over to check it out. It had taken on a little water but the baggies had been closed down just right by the last finders (thank you wanting snow and Ms Beachys) so everything was in good shape. A humorous moment came when Puddleby tossed Stonefly their signature stamp and it stamped him squarely in the chest before he caught it.
More of Penns Creek was enjoyed after the letterbox and we each managed to get tossed out at least once. Mososo Kruppe
saved my inner tube from escaping once and Puddleby had hers shoot out from under her at about the same time Mososo Kruppe took a tumble from hers. Dabralady ended up with a mashed shoulder and RGBisme and I had banged up shins.
The walk through the Paddy Mountain tunnel was so much fun and before we knew it, we were back at our vehicles. It was like we had defied some law of time to be immediately back where we had started. Nine letterboxers having too much fun and defying laws. Being one of nine, I look forward to doing it again.
