Valley Forge

Yesterday I went to Valley Forge, a place which has a strong personal, almost sentimental tie for me. It's been years since I've been there, but I feel a certain connection to landmarks of early American history. They are nostalgic for me not because of my own memories, but because of what they are. Even the ones I'm visiting for the first time feel nostalgic, and I mean that in the sense that they're familiar. You know you are walking on special land where people have truly interacted with the earth and not just built over it, just as a walk through the woods conjures up "memories" of everyone from the dinosaurs to the Native Americans. I never get this sense of place and history in an urban area.

Unfortunately routes 76, 422, and some smaller roads running through the park are fairly visible and audible. In the drizzle and mist you could also see the lights from surrounding hotels and the buildings around the King of Prussia Mall. Fortunately, for me, immersion into the woods was pretty easy. At Valley Forge the deer are abundant, the colors pour off the tress in the rain, and--maybe most inspiring--various travelers are enjoying their place there. There is a connection without any interaction between people. Once you (literally) turn your back on the city starting behind you, you're already in this other world which has a sense of oneness.

Often I dream about having to make important decisions in snowy weather. This is something I connect back to Valley Forge. Early American history always seems to happen in autumn or winter in my mind--despite the 4th of July--due to the hard winter at Valley Forge and Thanksgiving being a fall holiday. Being there yesterday I had no decisions to make, but I did feel a certain completeness as I crossed through moist fields with deer staring; rounded the lookout ridge on a disappearing trail given over to wet leaves; and generally found myself traveling down more and more closed off roads until only the woods seemed to remain. I walked until my leg felt broken.