by Dan Glass, KTA Representative, Standing Stone Trail Club
Every year, the winter offers a cold, howling wind that comes through the mountains, valleys, forests, and fields. Over the past 2 years, this wind has been called the “polar vortex.” This term is just a fancy way of saying that it’s brutally cold for an extended period of time. When I was a kid, they just called this “winter,” but back then, I also walked uphill both ways over sheets of solid ice on an 8-mile journey to get to school. Well, not really, but it sounds like some of the conversation that tends to happen in the comparative scheme of which winter is the worst.
The truth is that it has been cold. The snow stuck around for an extended period. The ice froze solid into large blobs or columns that could withstand a hit from a 280-pound offensive lineman with little more than a “is that all you’ve got?” in return to this challenge to the ice’s grasp on the earth. Cooler-than-normal temperatures have continued into early spring.
What better way to make the best of the polar vortex than to experience the frozen waterfalls at Ricketts Glen State Park with a group of hikers readily assembled from a Facebook group such as “Pennsylvania Waterfalls” or “Hiking and Backpacking Pennsylvania”?
Sara and Ben Nevin helped me assemble the list of hikers to Ricketts Glen for the day. After some last-minute cancellations, we were joined by my wife Heather, Dennis Crasper, Susan Burdette Switzer, Aaron Campbell, Lori Dieter, Brian Kerr, Jakub Jasinski, Vaibhav Bhosale, and Kevin Hart. Of course, we weren’t the only hikers in the falls area that day. In fact, by the end of the day, the parking lot was full from at least 20 different cars.
It seems that winter waterfalls have become a lot more popular than they were when I first got into them back in February 2004, let alone on my first excursion to Ohiopyle State Park dressed in white back in January 2001. The parking lot was definitely a testimonial to this, and I would say that it was good to see so many people back at the waterfalls, though I question why anyone would venture into the Glen without microspikes or crampons (based on my own experiences hiking without them when I should have had them, as well as the state park rules requiring you to have them) and without an ice axe and a rope (not to mention some really helpful trekking poles). I also have to wonder about the people who choose to return to Nature’s artistry intent on smashing icicles to the ground (Remember the Leave No Trace principles.)
This story isn’t about those negative things, though. It’s about what makes hiking at Ricketts Glen so great in the winter. There is camaraderie and friendships, both new and old; there is learning and experiencing; there is a need to see the beauty of Nature in everything that is; and there are the photos and stories, brought into the everyday world, about experiencing a natural treasure. It’s about a shared experience with some of the best photographers I’ve ever seen. And it’s also about the challenge of dealing with life’s frustrations, which sometimes fill our backpacks—even if we mean to leave them at home.
It really is a day where all things good stand out in the frozen air of morning and get the inner furnace kicked on strong as hikers push through the trails to discard hats and gloves in those moments of photography that come between the “oohs” and “aahs” of the “is this vision really real?”
In many ways, it’s reliving the journeys past, the sum of all moments, the physical endurance, the experience, and the dedication that goes with the athletic training to reach confidence and ability, which together allow for something like this.
Looking at it from this perspective, this was my sixth journey into the Glen in the seasons not guarded by a yellow line and a couple of menacing-looking signs listing gear and a final warning to anyone thinking that this traipse through the waterfalls won’t become a search-and-rescue mission for the Department of Conservation and Natural resources (DCNR), who do their darnedest to make sure that no hiker turns into a popsicle (and thank you to them for doing that and still keeping the trails open and accessible so others can enjoy while risking another one of those moments).
Fortunately, on this day, everyone made it out of the trail intact. This was in no small part due to Sara’s moratorium to get as many crampons on the ground as possible. This was also due to Ben being a seasoned ice climber who has that rare mix of knowledge, patience, and drive. Many teachers come to their task because they can teach themselves, but Ben has a patience and gentle way of bringing out people’s confidence when it’s their first time through a task. He also knows how to spring people into action when they have to get through their inhibitions and fear in the middle of a task so that they can stay in one piece or at 98.6°.
As the hike went up the trail, we saw blue ice, cool little formations that hid in obscured little cracks and crevices, mega-waterfalls frozen from the intense cold wave that also solidified the streams over the creek (it’s important to note that I’ve never seen the creek this frozen), ice caves, windows in the frozen stream and waterfalls, and hoarfrost formations.
I should add that for anyone that’s never see hoarfrost in its delicate beauty, it hangs in all of its fuzzy glory from the ceilings of the most special of places. In fact, I can remember only ever seeing it at Ludlowville Falls, near Ithaca, New York. However, on this day, it was the highlight of our hike. Just like the 30-foot ice curtain that hangs on the wall above the Shawnee was the greatest moment last year (a return to that spot for the first time since 2004), I was in awe. My wife telling me how I had to get in there to see “this” couldn’t possibly describe how pristine and joyous the sensation of looking up in that “broom closet” of a cave was. And we all got that moment that day. How many pictures were taken in the cave? How many selfies and other posed shots were we to upload to social media upon returning to a world of Wi-Fi (a world that doesn’t exist in the Glen)? The answer was to be too large to count! Nevertheless, we came, we saw, and we enjoyed.
We did our best to make sure we left the Glen’s magnificent ice formations intact for all to enjoy. And we marveled at Marcus the Mouse as he scrounged around the snow for food. We ascended the 16-foot Murray Reynolds Falls as the waterfall was buried beneath snow and ice that made it possible, though difficult, to climb. And then we climbed up to the cave area of Sheldon Reynolds Falls, nearly 30 feet above the pitch pool beneath us. We also wandered behind the ice wall at B. Reynolds, which coincidentally is not named for Burt. We took our pictures by the hundreds so that we could always remember these moments. And we did what we had to do to stay safe on icy trails, frozen waterfalls, and snowy paths.
We had lots of fun, which is why we were there in the first place. Next year, we’ll do it again. When we do, we’ll assemble another group. I hope you’ll choose to get the gear so that you can be a part of it. When you do, you can come up for the day or the weekend. Ricketts Glen has some beautiful family cabins for you to stay in. For all the “roughing it” you would expect, you’ll be cozier than in many hotels while getting to lay your claim on the top bunk!
However you choose to see the park, I hope you do. It’s a jewel of Pennsylvania that has to be experienced.