Looking up from the Northwest Lancaster County River Trail. December 2020
A place to return to (the curse of potato bugs notwithstanding)
Southeastern Pennsylvania is transversed by part of the "Great Appalachian Valley" running from Canada to Alabama. Harrisburg is right in the middle of it with Lebanon and Cumberland Valleys on either side. The Piedmont Region defines the southeastern side of the valley as a group of low ridges. One of these ridges is the Hallam Hills and where the Susquehanna River breaks through them on the Lancaster side, there is a sheer cliff - Chickies Rock. My mother grew up not far from this place. In my youth it was well-known, but not sought out. In the days before it was a county park, there was very little parking along Route 441 for those who wanted to hike out to the edge. The bottom was railroad property and essentially off-limits (although people frequently scrambled up and down - sometimes with injury). For me, however, the place provided somewhere to go sit and "wonder" in my last months of high school before I left Pennsylvania. Ironically, upon my return 42 years later during the height of the coronavirus pandemic, I passed under it countless times. It was like a magnet for me.
These days the rock is a favorite among rock climbers. Even on cold winter days, my brother and I often saw people on the rock face, amazed at their dedication to the sport. He recounted how he and our cousin EG often tried to climb down to the tracks and back and how absolutely stupid they were. The rock has always attracted people. It was a lookout point for Union troops during the Civil War. Later in 1893, a trolley line was built from Columbia to the top of the rock and continued down the other side to Marietta to bring townspeople to a small amusement park where they could also enjoy the view. My mother talked about that park which in her day was already history since it had closed down by the 1930s, maybe a casualty of the Great Depression. I had a hard time imagining how an amusement park could have been set up on that rocky terrain above the river.
Lancaster County's greatest trolley accident occurred on the Donegal-Columbia Trolley Line (servicing Chickies Park). The following is the account which I found very well-written:
August 9, 1896, began like any other Sunday. Townspeople attended worship services. Families gathered at noon for a meal together. As the day slipped into the afternoon, children swam in local creeks as adults sat on their front porches sipping lemonade. That evening at Chickies Park overlooking the Susquehanna River there was a sacred band concert of spiritual music. Then, like today, Chickies Rock was a popular summer destination. In fact, at the turn of the 19th century, there was even an amusement park near the overlook. People could ride the hub and spoke network of trolley lines from almost anywhere in Lancaster County to visit. Sadly, no remnants of this amusement park remain today. Towards the end of the concert, there was a severe storm that delayed the arrival of the trolley from Marietta. It was common practice not to operate the trolleys during a thunderstorm. When the four-wheel car No. 61 of the Pennsylvania Traction Company arrived after the storm, with Adam Foehlinger as a motorman and Harry Hershey as a conductor, the car was engulfed by passengers eager to get home. The trolley’s capacity was 28, but possibly 80 adults and children climbed aboard. Every seat was quickly filled, then the aisles, as was every bit of space on the front and back platforms. About 10 pm, the overloaded car started its downhill ride towards Columbia. At Klinesville, about a mile from Columbia, two women signaled to get off. However, due to the weight of the car and the wet rails, the trolley was unable to stop at the crossing going an extra 150 feet before coming to a full stop. The car was then backed up so the women could disembark. Underway again the trolley began to move forward on the steep slope increasing in speed. Problems for the overloaded trolley worsened as millions of potato bugs swarmed over the rails making the overworked brakes ineffective. The increase in speed caused the trolley pole to leave the overhead wire, cutting the electricity and plunging the interior into darkness. With no brakes and in complete darkness, the passengers broke out into screams. The trolley car eventually hit 60 miles per hour. On a curve, the wheels left the rails. The car careened wildly across a road, snapping off a gatepost, then slid on its side for 75 feet, struck a tree, then a trolley pole, and dropped over a 30-foot embankment. It ended on its top, with wheels and motor high in the air. The accident killed six people including the mayor of Columbia H. H. Heise, motorman Foehlinger, William Pinkerton, Henry Smith, W. J. Ludlow, and William Metzger. In addition, another 68 people were injured.
[from: unchartedlancaster.com]
To make the story even MORE intriguing, the trolley company and park were supposedly cursed by three witch/sisters who were forced to sell their home at the top of Chickies Hill for the amusement park!
Blissfully ignorant of said curse, in high school, I would drive to the make-shift parking off Rte 441, walk out to the cliff edge, and sit on the rocks overlooking the river. Gazing back toward Sam Lewis State Park, I wondered what the future held for me. Oh if 60 year old Matt could go back and even hint at what was in store, I think 18 year old Matt might have had a lot less angst. In those days, it was a lovely place to seek solitude because it was still relatively difficult to reach. I walked under the rock later in life on an easy-access, paved trail. Every time I passed that cliff, I thought where life had led me over the years yet how much the rock not had changed.
During the pandemic, the closest walking trail to my brother's place was the Marietta-Columbia stretch of the Northwest Lancaster River Trail. I passed under the rock countless times seeing it in all kinds of light and weather conditions. The photo above was after a rain when the colors of the rock stood out. For a big chunk of stone, it had a special beauty. Anchor for me? Magnet? Chickies Rock holds a special place in my memory, curse notwithstanding.
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