Along the Susquehanna

"Do you want to go on a night cruise with us?"

Only about three weeks had passed between the purchasing my longboard and my friend--who bought his board in the same trip--asked.

I was truly perplexed.

The notion of skating through the forest after the sun sank below the western horizon seemed ridiculous. Reckless even. Yet something about it felt right. After all, the longboard wasn't just a convenient method of traversing through campus but also an invitation to a new community.

My friend, Isaak, was welcomed into a whole crew of skaters that had found the paved forest trail that crept parallel to the Susquehanna River, passing the knowledge onto him. He was eager to share the experience and claimed the trail was super smooth and peaceful.

This I would have to see for myself.

The trail from my hometown was marked by gravel. Even the larger wheels on my longboard wouldn't cut it. But I'd found a new home in my college town and was on the hunt to find a 'spot'.

Packing up in my car, we first stopped for Chinese carry-out then to purchase a flashlight for myself. By this time the sun's light no longer left any trace of its existence in the sky. We followed a long winding road until reaching its end, and with it the river, to turn right before arriving at the trail's parking lot.

Uncertainty returned while I followed them skating down the trail beyond the last of the street lights. This uncertainty wasn't caused by the dark, though that did play a part in complete honesty, but rather my limited ability to skate fast and the unknown environment.

It wasn't until we were completely immerse in the forest scene that I felt the whimsical presence seeping from the late-summer night. With only the flashlight beams to see by, the night's warmth and damp scent caused by dew and leaves preparing for the coming fall created a blanket of comfort. That and the gentle chill as the air rushed against my face cruising at a comfortable pace down the trail.

I was convinced I'd found the best part of rural Pennsylvania until we reached a spot on the trail that felt cooler than the rest causing us to stop and investigate. It was only a few steps straying from the paved path where sat the overgrown remains of a single-room structure adorned with graffiti varying in age. 'WELCOME' was spray painted at the entrance. Ducking into the arched doorway, we studied each passerby's mark recording their presence.

There was a magical feeling standing in the middle of whatever that structure once was. Each wall held art and the lack of roof merely acted as a skylight that framed the stars above our heads. More convenient yet, rocks jutting out from the ground were suitably aligned for the three of us to comfortable sit and listen to the night.

My chest felt light as if I'd just settled in a place of significance. I need to share with my girlfriend, I thought. In that moment it I realized the ruined building became somewhere that meaningful. It just was encompassed in some sort of captivating aura.

Because of this, I returned frequently either in solitude or with friends. There aren't any other places I value as much--that I've uncovered yet--in this area. I like to fill the empty space with music while I'm alone, but here the silence isn't overwhelming. It fits. The rustle of leaves, the scampering from squirrels, the whistles of birds.

I call it my paradise, but I'll share. Paradise lies along the Susquehanna River trail in Columbia, right near Wrights Ferry Bridge. Just walk, or however you prefer to travel down the path, until the hair rises on the back of your neck in suspicion of the sudden chill that ripples over your skin. To your right you'll step off the trail and duck into the ruins; paradise. Do you feel it too?