Tredyffrin Easttown Historical Society
History Quarterly Digital Archives

Source: October 1938 Volume 1 Number 5, Pages 29–30

On to the Grand Canyon!

Ruth J. Moore

Page 29

October 8, long anticipated, dawned beautifully clear, and shortly before eight the Club tour started, the green flags waving merrily in the breeze. There were three cars, with eleven people -- S. Paul Teamer, Franklin L. Burns, Dr. J. Alden Mason, Paul Pritchard, Mr. and Mrs. Rhinewalt Platt, Ruth J. Moore, Mildred F. Bradley, Katherine Stroh, Phoebe P. Prime, and Emily Peirce.

Following the Lincoln Highway to Lancaster, then turning toward Harrisburg and the Susquehanna Trail, the first stop was at Amity Hall. Just below Lewisburg, the president's flag blew off, possibly in salute to his alma mater. It was rescued, and a brief pause was made at Bucknell University.

The scenery brightened with every mile. Pines made a perfect background for the pinks, reds and yellows of maples; Virginia creeper blazoned along the trunks of others up into their green tops; sumac and other low bushes were equally brilliant. Even unpainted shacks were glorified by the autumnal display.

At one o'clock the Washington Presbyterian Church, near Allenwood, was reached, and here the picnic luncheon disappeared rapidly. The president's flag was replaced, and the caravan moved on. But not for long. Four sharp toots from the rear halted the first two cars, until an aerial was fixed. On the way again, a few minutes later, a cow blocked the road. The ornithologist was nominated to remove the obstruction. This he did promptly, but not before being photographed in action. All through the trip, as amusing incidents occurred, there were frequent calls of "Camera'" A hundred years hence, posterity may wonder at the strange pursuits of their ancestors.

The motorcade entered Wellsboro at 4:30, after 245 miles. All were delighted with this attractive county seat, and its distinct New England air, including the wide tree-shaded main street. Accommodations were found at the White Gate and tourist homes nearby, and the party proceeded to the Canyon, some ten miles away. The ride was a pretty one and the canyon itself fulfilled all expectations. Fifty miles long, the brilliantly hued mountains sloped down to the winding Pine Creek, a thousand feet below. A long freight train very obligingly rounded the bend and puffed along the creek. This view from the Harrison Park Lookout was awe-inspiring.

Page 30

Dinner had been ordered at the Bel Air Tea Room, and, with appetites whetted by mountain air, all reached the long table before seven. Strolling down town was next on the program, during the course of which the moon appeared through the clouds and inspired five members of the party to start immediately to view the Canyon by its light. The others courted Morpheus.

After an early Sunday breakfast, the crowd again went to the Canyon, where this morning the wind whistled shrilly through the trees. The more ambitious walked through the white birches to the end of the steep trail.

Leaving Wellsboro regretfully at ten, the ride down Route 6 was even more beautiful than the previous day. Foliage, meadows, river--all combined in a lovely picture from the rock overlooking French Asylum, where refugees of the French Revolution came in 1793.

The Hotel Casey Coffee Shop in Scranton proved a good choice for the dinner stop at two. Hereafter, on the Lackawanna Trail, traffic moved very slowly. The sun went down like a ball of fire, and shortly the full moon rose. A brief stop in Bethlehem to see the first apothecary shop in the United States, and the three cars reached Berwyn at 7:40, after 550 miles of fine scenery, none of which was more beautiful than our own moon-drenched Great Valley.

We shall be glad to mail this magazine at $1.00 a year to those of our neighbors who are interested in local history.


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