The Newtown Pentacle

Friday

– photo by Mitch Waxman

A humble narrator likes to ‘kill two birds with one stone’ as much as possible. Our Lady of the Pentacle announced that we had arrived at a shortfall in terms of the stock of fresh fruits and vegetables in our refrigerator, with said statement coinciding with one of my ‘every other day’ jaunts of exercise schedule. We have been buying this form of comestible from a farm’s retail operation, in Pittsburgh’s South Park suburb, which is about a 30 minute drive from HQ. Coincidentally, one of the sections of the Montour Trail is about a 10 minute drive from said farm stand. Hence…

I didn’t think that there would be much interest in seeing the onions, apples, broccoli, cucumbers and other stuff which I bought later on. On the other hand, the Montour Trail is freaking great. The veg was delicious, btw.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

This is a former rail road right of way, and the Montour Railroad’s primary occupation once revolved around coal. You can read all about the company at this Wikipedia link, the Montour Trail at this Wiki page, and for a series of visits I’ve made to the various sections of the trail click here.

There are several ‘rail to trail’ locations all over Pittsburgh, which make for an ideal form of scuttling. You’re separated from traffic, mostly, and the trails are surrounded largely by woodlands. There’s critters and often flowing water, and every so often a Porta Potty is encountered if you were in the mood to have a tinkle. The surface of the trail is generally asphalt or crushed limestone at railroad grade (1 foot of elevation for every hundred feet horizontally), and you could theoretically follow this path from Pittsburgh all the way to Washington D.C. on a bike, or on foot. There’s also several designated camping sites located along the Montour, with the path proceeding through the gorgeous Laurel Highlands and into the Western Maryland Panhandle. Appalachia, amirite?

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Saying all that, I ain’t taking a 152 mile long walk just to end up in D.C., and I’m trying to visit somewhat more local sections of the trail, bit by bit. On this particular day, one was taking a short walk of less than 4 miles. 2 miles in, 2 miles out and back to the dedicated parking lot where I left the Mobile Oppression Platform. Cardio, yo.

Why do I call my car the ‘Mobile Oppression Platform’? Well, back in Queens, where I was the chair of Community Board 1’s transportation committee, one had to regularly endure the performative outrage and politcial ire of the bicycle people. If somebody got hit by a car, it was emblematic or whatever snake oil they were selling this week or that. One particular eidelon of the street safety crowd describes automobiles as – alternatively – ‘two ton death machines,’ or ‘mobile oppression platforms.’ She didn’t realize that Dr. Zoidberg from the TV cartoon Futurama had got there first. When Toyota insisted I give the car a name, Mobile Oppression Platform is what I chose. You can use M.O.P for shortness’ sake.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

All in all, a very pleasant experience was enjoyed by a humble narrator, although the path in this section wasn’t exactly rich in features you’d want to point a camera at. I was quite interested in this masonry bridge, however, due to its stoutness. The point of this walk was walking, exercising the internally lubricated parts of my legs, and first elevating and then sustaining my heart rate for an interval.

The constancy of my walking around thing is something I’m commanded to do by the team of physicians who help me maintain a median level of health. Running would work too, but I only run when something is chasing me. Also, running offers up a spate of other possible injuries you could incur during the act or over time. Overall regular practice of long distance walking is a fairly low impact form of exercise which offers a number of other benefits. I always bring the camera along to keep it interesting, and to push me into going new places.

Give me a choice, I’d be sitting at home in a La-Z-Boy chair, which was the very first thing I bought after moving here last year. That’s some chair, I tell’s ya…

– photo by Mitch Waxman

After about two miles I encountered an obstacle, pictured above, and that served up as good a moment as any to reverse course and head back to the M.O.P.

There is a moving waterbody found alongside this section of the Montour Trail, which is called Montour Run. It’s the water which that stout masonry bridge spans. I’m pretty sure it’s engineered, likely something the rail people created as a drainage system for their berm riding trackway. Don’t know, I’m putting 2+2 together and presuming.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Thankfully, I found an open sewer or two along the way, which poured their filth and degradation into it. Ahhh… What am I without sewage to talk about, after all? It was a fine concoction, whose miasma told me it was residential and maybe a couple of days old. I learned many things on Newtown Creek, including how to effectively smell from a fellow called ‘Ned the Nose.’

I made it back to the M.O.P. in fine fettle after walking a bit of the Montour Trail, and then drove over to the farm’s market building to fetch the requested vegetables and fruit. A few weeks ago, I bought peaches at that joint which were the size of frigging softballs, but that’s another story. This time around, the hero of the effort were these freakishly large tomatoes. I also bought a basketball sized Cabbage.

Back next week with something a bit different, at this – your Newtown Pentacle.

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