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The feet take a pounding, but the sights and sounds make it all worthwhile,
Why I hike: Tom Waseleski retired from the PG and set off for the woods.
In the dim light of the shaded woods, I could see the sweat glistening on my arms, feel the cool beads rolling down my back. I took another swig from the water bottle as I contemplated the confusion ahead.
I had been hoofing a trail for the past two hours, following the periodic white rectangular blazes painted on large trees. Here or there the path would intersect other trails leading their own way, set off by red or blue or green blazes. But what to make of this: A trail intersection with white marks on trees in all four directions.
I knew what my wife would say if she were here: “We’re lost.”
Then I’d give her my usual retort: “We’re not lost. We just don’t know where we are. There’s a difference.”
The trail map in my pocket was no help. So I turned left because that spur appeared to go downhill and I knew my car was somewhere below, parked near the creek. That’s how an anticipated 5-mile hike turned into 7. But when the clock is no issue, the chance to spend more time in the forest solitude is a delight.
• When I retired from the Post-Gazette last spring, I promised myself to hike a new trail every week. For years, my wife and I had been casual hikers, but every time we left a trail, I wanted more. Here, finally, was my chance.
Why only new trails? Two reasons: I didn’t want this to get old by revisiting places I already had been, and I knew I would find an abundance of superb hiking spots in and near Pittsburgh without having to drive to a state park. Some of these trails are in city parks while others are in county or even municipal parks. In every case, the sights and sounds of modern life disappear once you get 50 yards into the woods. Plus, you can be home by dinner.
Each nearby trail has its own personality and idiosyncrasies. The North Trail of Bradys Run Park in Beaver County begins with a long, sharp vertical climb that will have you huffing and puffing in 10 minutes before leveling off to a pleasantly winding path atop a ridge. Soon enough, you can hear faint gunfire, several miles away, from the Beaver Valley Rifle and Pistol Club.
Fifer’s Fields in Franklin Park looked less well tended than other trails when I visited in July, but it has a small pond where a dozen or so frogs skittishly — hilariously — plunged into the water as I approached.
Allegheny County’s Harrison Hills Park in West Deer bears a piece of the Rachel Carson Trail. In May, the dirt path was marked at many turns by bright wild flowers — massive bushes of red rhododendron, banks of yellow buttercups and trees with flat, white blooms. But the highlight was approaching the spectacular overlook high above the Allegheny River. The trees opened just enough for a leafframed view of some grassy backyards down below that stretched to the bank as the green river rolled silently by.
Not to be outdone, several Pittsburgh parks are also wooded oases to hikers who want a morning or afternoon free of traffic, jackhammers, lawn mowers and barking dogs. Until the vast new park in Hays is made ready for the public, much-used Frick Park is the city’s largest at 644 acres and has a network of trails, most of them in a wooded hollow, that can be stitched together for a 5- to 6-mile hike. Its paths get frequent use by dog walkers and cyclists, too. (To the biker who nearly took me out on a blind hairpin turn: Slow down, bro — share the trail.)
Panther Hollow in Oakland is a delight for the senses. Not only does the ravine offer the sights of flowers, the sounds of creeks and the sweet smell of forest decay but there is 1930s stonework by the Works Progress Administration to admire and the serenity of Panther Hollow Lake to appreciate.
Perhaps the most unlikely trek in an urban setting can be found in Emerald View Park. The George and Guy Trail, named for George Washington and Seneca leader Guyasuta, wraps around the hillside from the West End to the front of Mount Washington. Along the way, the trees open for spectacular views of the Ohio River and the fountain at The Point. It’s difficult to imagine a more breathtaking wooded showcase for any city skyline in America. • Someone once asked me, “Where do you take these walks?” I quickly explained that these are not walks. They are hikes.
A walk is a casual stroll down the street; you’re getting exercise, but you’re also talking to the neighbors, marveling at how their kids have grown and taking stock of whose grass and garden have survived the test of summer.
A hike is a sweat-filled, briskly paced journey. I use a telescoping trek pole and carry a daypack with sunscreen, tick repellent, trail mix and water bottle. I listen for bird songs I don’t hear in my backyard. I look for animals beyond the usual deer, squirrels and snakes (and usually see none). I stop to marvel, when the wood thins and opens up a bit, at the high-ceilinged cathedral of trees, a natural edifice that has risen more or less spontaneously, despite the stresses and neglect imposed by humans. Call it God or Mother Nature. Either way, it’s a good moment to stop for some water.
In the woods, life’s misgivings, regrets and second thoughts retreat. The trail is a chance to change the subject or clear away the clutter of things unimportant. It opens the pores, elevates the pulse, soothes the soul.
I have hiked alone, in a pair, as part of a foursome and as an adult leader with a troop of gangly Boy Scouts. Each experience is different and each comes with its own joys. The pinnacle of my hiking career with the Scouts arrived when we logged 100 miles on the Appalachian Trail one week in Virginia. It was an endurance test for adults and teenagers alike and, if nothing else, it taught us to take care of the most basic and essential hiking tool, our feet.
In small adult groups, friendly conversation spices the hike, as do surprise offerings of food shared from the backpack. When my wife and I hit the trail together, I know I’ll be trading my faster pace for the benefit of companionship. We talk, we pause, we snack. I stop and take pictures, probably too many. She stops and examines odd, colorful tree fungus. Sometimes when she’s in a light and happy mood, she sings. Yes, she sings.
Some will read•this and conclude that hiking is only a retreat or an escape. The truth is, it’s a return to where humans lived and explored for millennia long before cars and air conditioning and multiple electronic screens conspired to keep us from nature. No wonder the trail feels so right.
A few weeks ago, I came home from an exhilarating hike, only to find the TV set on and rancorous political blather spewing from one of the 24-hour news channels. “Could we shut this off, please?” I said. It was fast deflating my trailinduced buzz.
No one needs a vitriolic presidential campaign to be reminded of the beauty, grandeur and tranquility of a quiet path that twists through the woods. It sits there waiting and welcoming, both on good days and in times of turmoil. But too many come too late — as in retirement — to the serene gifts of a hike in our dwindling wilderness. Like saving for the future, it is an investment for oneself that is best made early.