Kinzua Bridge, part two

Kinzua Bridge State Park is usually the domain of railroad buffs, nostalgic old-timers, and Harley dudes. And yet, there's some rugged and scenic back country here to discover, too. You have to be willing to bushwack, and I don't know how passable the terrain would be in high summer, with all the brambles that surely cover the valley floor. It's hard enough to climb over all the fallen trees; rose cane and thorn bushes would make it well nigh impossible.

So, I think this is best as a winter hike. Besides, this is a scene of waste and desolation, and I always find that destruction is best served with a bleak season to bring out its full flavor. Winter complements this place beautifully: the silence, the cold, the absence of greenery. It all goes very well with the twisted metal, the tumbled bridge, and the vast swath of mangled forest. In fact, when I was here, a flock of crows circled above me most of the time, calling out in their almost human voices, as if waiting for me to expire like everything else in sight. (Isn't a flock of crows called a "murder"?) This is a February outing, or early March.


From the parking area, there's a broad, grassy walkway labeled "General Kane Trail." This leads eventually to an electric line that it follows for some distance. Where the electric line and the path make a clear turn to the right, the bushwacker goes straight, past a gated sapling plantation and down, down onto the valley floor.

Here at the bottom of the valley, you're standing right in the tornado's path, and it's awe-inspiring to see the things the wind destroyed and the things it left. It seems so random. Consider the sheer power of that storm! What was it doing so far east?

There's a lane here that follows the valley back toward the bridge. Seeing the bridge from the underside is tempting, but that's an adventure for some other day. A lone bushwacker would rather cut across the tornado valley, strewn with tree trunks, and make for the rock city on the opposite wall. It would be pretty easy to twist an ankle or even break a leg bushwacking through such a big blowdown under the snow. That's why I located a nice set of deer tracks to follow. Deer are heavy and sure-footed. Following deer tracks saves you from getting your foot caught in the crotch of some long-dead tree, hidden beneath the snow.

From down here, there's a nice long line of boulders visible on the opposite wall of the valley. That's the destination: a place of wonders, a good place to spend two hours exploring. Here, too, there are great views of the ruined forest below, distant scenes of the remains of the bridge, and access to deeper woods at the crest of the hill. Up under the overhang of a huge boulder, I found the most beautiful sheet of ice I've ever seen. It looked like pure glass. It was perfectly smooth, five feet tall, and almost a foot thick in places, but perfectly translucent. This photo doesn't do it justice.

It might be rewarding to follow this summit back to the side of the Kinzua Bridge that no one ever visits.