Sacred Places

Soulez Chille
Nov 5 · 5 min read

The Powder Hole, a beautiful gorge that the Big Wap(short for Wapwallopen) Creek runs through,has been a sacred refuge for me for more than 40 years. It has served as nearby free ‘camping vacations” for my kids when budgets were more than tight. It was/is where I find myself when in need of solitary reflection, a favorite fishing area for native trout where I once caught a beautiful 18" brookie, and an all time favorite place to let my dog(s) roam free…..not to mention almost birthing my child streamside in the wild, but that’s a story in itself. Unfortunately, it is also a haven for weekend drinking parties, kids skipping school on that first hot day of spring, cliff divers and all the accompanied litter and disregard for it’s rich history and natural beauty.

Due to frequent heavy rains of the last year and a half, I have not been down to the gorge. Yesterday, I decided to visit, knowing my new limited arthritic mobility may make it difficult or perhaps even prohibit it. I was determined to try, so with Milo, my canine hiking partner, I made the scenic drive eight miles away. It turned out to be not only difficult but also bittersweet.

I gave up forging the steep sides of the gorge years ago and now enter from the road near the mouth of the Susquehanna RIver in which the Wap empties. Though it is an easier access point to the trail, getting to it was challenging as we were met with a steep bank to climb down thanks to the heavy rains we’ve had in the last two years. I had to keep Milo on a lead to protect him as the first part of the trail is narrow and above steep walls meeting the creek below, now running rapid due to recent heavy rains. Fortunately, Milo knows his commands of ‘easy’ and ‘stay’, but also sensitive to my struggle with steps down hill so he patiently waits to move forward rather than pull. Inch by inch I made my way to the rocky rooted trail which also made me more aware of each step I took.

Then, before me the washed out area of the trail I knew would be a challenge, it had become a much bigger monster since my last visit. Completely cut off from the otherside, a steep drop off perhaps 15–20 feet. I spent sometime considering turning back, checked my time and decided to take it on. I let Milo off the lead for him to figure his own route, watched what he did, and knew I could not do the same. I sat myself down hung my feet over the edge, held own to some exposed roots until I found a foot hold, stood, grabbing my walking stick to help anchor me, found a branch to hold on to, slid a little, then steadying myself, eventually made it to the bottom of the gully. Climbing the up the other side was tricky, but easier than what I had just accomplished. Making a mental note to keep track of my time so it was still daylight when I came back to this point, as it was not going to be easy to get back to the other side.

Milo plays in the water hole my children once enjoyed. Old ruins, now blemished.

Enjoying the beauty I had missed for way too long, I made my way to the waterfall and the ruins of the old powder mill once owned by Dupont. Over the years I have been so saddened by the litter that has been left behind, but always managed to carry a bag of it out with me. I can no longer do that, physically. It bothers me somewhat, but moreso why people have such disrespect for such a place of beauty in the first place. As I approached the ruins, the bitter part of this story appeared. I was gut wrenched to see that not only the litter continues to accumulate, but now, blue, green yellow, and orange paint tarnishes the patina of the old brick and stone of the ruins. Unbelievable to me, tears welled for a time lost to the hands of freakin a-holes. Morons who actually planned to tarnish the history of this space. Milo played in the nearby water, as I sat for a while remincsing of my many camping trips with the kids, and wondered if my grandchild will ever have that experience.

Checking the time, I turned away with Milo leading the way back. At the washed out area, cautiously, I managed to get down into the gully, finding a tow rope under some leaves on the other side helped me get up, to the tree root that helped me down. Grabbing the root, suddenly, Milo jumps ahead of me, but his hips gave out and begins to slide downward. He now on his side me holding him by his collar with one hand, and holding on to tree roots with the other. Not sure how I did it but I managed to get him to the top of the trail, then pulled myself up and gave thanks to the guardians watching over me. I put Milo back on the lead once again as visions of him sliding down the steep sides into the Wap’s rapids haunted me until we safely made it back to my car.

Bittersweet it was,riding home again with the sweetness of accomplishment. I DID it! It would be the bitter taste of witnessed unwanted change that would keep me from a good night’s sleep.

My sons and niece back in the mid 80’s.

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Soulez Chille

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