Lost Mountain is a strange place indeed. It's in the northeasternmost reaches of Cambria County, which is an area I'd never explored before. It's also a pretty lofty site, at 2,638 feet above sea level, which is quite high for the Keystone State. I was drawn to its mysterious name, its out-of-the-way location, and the fact that no one had ever claimed it yet on the peak-bagging website where I document my climbs. (Now that I'm the first one to claim it, I'm credited with its first ascent, and I bear the badge "king of the hill.") See how the fire tower at the summit looms above the forest roof. It looks vaguely sinister, like something guarding an evil passageway in The Lord of the Rings.
Although it's above 2,500 feet, there really aren't many steep ascents or striking views. In this photo, the Allegheny Mountains are mere highlands that roll away gradually to the west. Here on the lower flanks of the mountain, there were many of these broad, grassy meadows, bordered by young piney woods--which causes me to think that this part of the mountain consists of rehabilitated coalfields. Scenic enough, but nothing remarkable.
It was the last day of summer and a pleasant 66 degrees in the uplands of Central Pennsylvania. The golden rods of early fall added a dash of color to the pleasant scenery. I actually rode an old Schwinn bicycle, with a loose chain, the four uphill miles from the village of Blandburg to the summit of Lost Mountain. A little gravel lane passes through state game land 158, entering a small tract of the Gallitzin State Forest just where you meet the road-gate near the fire tower. On the way back down, all I had to do was let it coast, since it was a long, gradual downhill grade on a decent gravel surface.
There are sideroads and narrow snowmobile trails to explore, but it's not likely that I'll ever return. It's just too far. There was a gruesome murder committed somewhere along this lonely little road back in 2006. When I was looking online for information about the fire tower, or photos of it, I discovered the old newspaper article about the murder. Something drug-related. There was absolutely nothing online about this mountain, or the forest, or the tower. This blog post is pretty much it.
But here it is, an official geological plate marking the highest point on the summit. See, it says "Lost Mtn. 1941." I wonder what this place looked like in 1941. As you ascend the mountain toward the summit, the meadows and piney woods give way to lovely, mature hardwood forests--gallery forests, with very little understory and big, straight tree trunks. Here, too, there was a splash of color in anticipation of the changing seasons.
About four miles up, you meet a closed gate, and there in the distance you see a weathered old fire tower looming above the treetops. Some modern signal tower stands beside it. The older tower has a bedraggled air about it and made me think of Rapunzel or some woodland fairytale with a princess imprisoned in a tower.
The chain link fence around the bottom of the tower was breached in two places, and there weren't any No Trespassing signs to be seen. And yet, this fire tower is dangerous! The editorial board at Snow and Jaggers strongly discourages any and all from trying to climb it! It has been abandoned for decades. The wooden stairs are not safe. And the tower actually shakes. Only a fool would climb it.
Which thing I did...three times, but never to the top. The first time, I only made it to the second landing, where I lost my nerve and went back down. Then on a second ascent, I worked up my courage to go as far as the third landing, but then I felt that tower shaking, and I scurried back down. Finally, realizing that I would forever regret not climbing that tower, I made a compromise with myself: I would only climb high enough to see above the treetops, no higher. So on my third ascent, I made it to the fourth landing. The key to walking on these dangerous old stairs is to use your arms to put a lot of your bodyweight onto the handrails. I also only placed my feet at the furthest edges of the steps, which were undergirded by metal brackets, which hold the rotten wood onto the steel frames.
Here's a hasty view from the fourth landing, looking south. I did not stay up there for very long! The one prominent rise on the horizon might be the beautiful mountain known as Blue Knob, where there is a very nice state park and ski resort.
Again looking south but more southeasterly. I know the views would have been better if I'd gone all the way up to the cabin, but I saw from below that the cabin had a big hole in the floor, and I really couldn't make myself go any higher.
No comments:
Post a Comment