Sandy Creek Trail, Venango County

One thing the new hunting camp up north has done is cause me to hike less, ironically.  I’ve just been spending my days off working on the place.  (Actually, I should put up some “before & after” shots of the inside; the change from old 70s trailer to clean Northern chic is pretty dramatic.)  And yet, I did get to hit one trail on my last trip up there, the Sandy Creek Trail.  

I suspected that the Sandy Creek would be a paved rail trail, and I was right.  But it was still pleasant, isolated, scenic, and solitary.  There was one other car parked at the trailhead, but I saw not a soul out there in about one hour of hiking.  This is Sandy Creek.

Rail trails are considered “multi-use,” but serious hikers tend to avoid them because they’re typically heavily trafficked and overrun with cyclists.  I’m glad my old homeland of Venango County is developing some nice rail trails.  Lord knows there were a lot of railroads sitting empty up there.  But I have an ambivalence toward rail trails.  Because they follow old rails, they are relatively level.  Like the railroads they replace, they run along streams and rivers.  Also like railroads, they tend to take you through the grittiest parts of any town they pass through.

And so, rail trails are not my preference.  But they’re better than streets.  Here’s some local art along a rail trail underpass.  Looks like a train car with haunted-looking passengers….

I did hike off the trail and down along Sandy Creek.  It is actually very sandy indeed.  Here’s a nice swimming hole that probably serves fishers in chilly weather and swimmers in warm weather.  It has a broad, sandy beach and deep, clear water.  I’m sure it’s awfully cold to swim in—even in July—but that’s how it is to swim in the streams up here.  I learned to swim in a rocky creek in Venango County called Panther Springs, and it was COLD!  But there’s a unique pleasure to swimming in cold water.  It’s…euphoric…after the initial shock.

And here’s a map of the rail trail system.  It’s modest but praiseworthy.  I love it when people take pride in their communities and try to make them more livable—like turning their ugly industrial waste places into beautiful trails.  Rockland, where I caught the trailhead, is where my father’s family is all buried.  So strange that life has brought me back here.