Riding on the LeHigh Portland Trail takes you from being surrounded by people to a place where you can finally be alone. It is here, by the Sinclair-Hegwald Bridge, that I found a place where there is no path. Walking off the path and through the woods, I can hear many things like the water running along the creek that we are walking by, the buzzing of the locusts, the chirping of the birds, and the crunching of leaves beneath my feet. As I walk here, I can cross the creek on the old railroad ties to a big fallen tree and a very unstable bridge. There are times that I have to balance myself by grabbing nearby vines that are dangling from trees. Walking along the creek bed, I run my fingers along the cement wall that once held up the bridge for the railroad. I touch the leaves that still dangle from the trees and pick up insects that I find interesting on my
Riding on the LeHigh Portland Trail takes you from being surrounded by people to a place where you can finally be alone. It is here, by the Sinclair-Hegwald Bridge, that I found a place where there is no path. Walking off the path and through the woods, I can hear many things like the water running along the creek that we are walking by, the buzzing of the locusts, the chirping of the birds, and the crunching of leaves beneath my feet. As I walk here, I can cross the creek on the old railroad ties to a big fallen tree and a very unstable bridge. There are times that I have to balance myself by grabbing nearby vines that are dangling from trees. Walking along the creek bed, I run my fingers along the cement wall that once held up the bridge for the railroad. I touch the leaves that still dangle from the trees and pick up insects that I find interesting on my