The Chestnut Ridge of the Laurel Highlands is a pretty rugged mountain formation... yet is surprisingly porous underneath. Below that rocky surface is the seemingly endless chasms of Laurel Caverns, as well as the tiny corridors of a plethora of wild caves that carve through the solid stone to create a giant rocky sponge. Each of these small wild caves have much in common: they're remote, mostly untraveled, and so dark and narrow that every passageway seems more treacherous than the last. Moreover, the formations and atmosphere truly give the feeling of being in an entire other world, all while passing deep below the ground we overlook every day. They may not have unique backstories and such like many of the cool places I venture to do, but the level of adventure cannot be denied. So you better believe I'm gonna explore them every chance I get.
Gunz and I decided to sneak in one last caving trip before the bats went back into hibernation in the fall, and I had a sudden lead on accessing the isolated Barton Cave. We met at my cabin at Sandpile Springs of course before heading on out into what quickly became one of the most uncooperative adventures ever.
After some breakfast we headed out via Gunz's truck... I had a pretty goddamn long drive down from Clarion and I was in no mood to get back behind the wheel. I encouraged Gunz to take a shortcut up Brethren Summit, leading to our first grave error. As we passed by the abandoned cabin on that mountain, Gunz was suddenly lured into a deep mudhole. It was too deep for the truck to make it through, and the sudden burst of dirty water not only cut the engine, but kept it from starting again. That's what we in the offroad enthusiast world like to call "stuck."
We reverted to travel on foot. We ran the few miles down the mountaintop back to pavement. We pleaded with a guy parking his pick up truck to come give Gunz's truck a yank out of the mud, but said he wouldn't drive up that trail and that we were suckers for doing it ourselves. Rightfully so. Plan B: returning with the Jeep, which was still a few miles away. After walking another mile or 2, we hitchhiked our way back to Sandpile Springs where the ZJ awaited... too bad our ride was this sweet windowless panel van with no backseats driven by a creepy old guy. Asking for trouble, no?
Hearing the Green Rooster fire up never sounded so good. She roared to life and was ready for her mission. She climbed up Brethren Summit, creeped through the mud until she was close enough to Gunz's truck then got strapped up. What a girl. His truck still wouldn't fire so the Jeep had pull nothing but dead weight and despite a little struggle to gain traction in the gunky mud she eventually extracted the Ford from it's watery tomb.
For those keeping score at home, that's another point in the Jeep column. Woo. Anyway, I actually towed it all the way back down to pavement where Gunz had hoped to get a tow truck and cell phone service since no one was willing to tow from where we were. Still, the only reasonably priced tow would take a few hours to report. Fuck that, we were fixing that fucker ourselves. The battery was shot so we headed down to Uniontown first for a new battery and a well deserved dinner. Upon return, we tinkered well into twilight when we finally had the starter able to fire up again. She groaned and rattled but she made it to my cabin in the dark.
Gunz and I just never seem to know when to quit. Rather than bow out and spend the night at the cabin, we proceeded to the cave well beyond midnight knowing that it would be dark inside anyway. Unfortunately, just having directions that were recently given to me with details that were shaky at best wasn't enough to go by in the dark. After getting pretty damn turned around in the night, we gave up....... until morning dammit.
With daylight on our side we made a very, very early start... the forest was beautiful with just a dash of autumn color but it was cold as balls... of course that was going to fucking stop us at this point in the game. Better yet, now that we could actually see where were hiking it was a much easier effort to find the correct route.... which was steep as shit. Bleh.
Finally we entered that fucking cave on the last day before the gates are locked shut to allow bats to hibernate. We explored quite a bit but my camera was damaged when I smashed it during a crawl. Sigh. The good news is that was the last thing that went awry on that trip.
Annnnnnnnd that'll do it. Seriously how many things can go fucking wrong in one trip? And that was all after we delayed the outing a day due to weather conditions. But in the end we got in that cave and explored the fuck out of it. It may have cost us a lot in the grand scheme of things, including a truck battery and a digital camera, but we fucking did it. There may not have been any truly unique formations like the waterfall at Oppermans Cave but whatev, it was still really sweet to explore.
Tally-ho!
-Crash
Nemacolin is a place of true class with more money to spend on amenities and features than any place probably should. One of those features is the inclusion of a canoe museum on the banks of the largest lake on their property, Lake Paige. Yes, you read that right... a fucking canoe museum. I discovered this unpublicized feature while hosting a canoeing event on the lake for work. Small in size but big on historic value, this little lakeshore building is stocked with some of the coolest old canoes you can ever imagine from around the world dating back through centuries. I utilized an off day at the resort to check them out while Lavaricky had come to visit to worship the old vessels appropriately... and of course do a little paddling of my own.
