Hollidaysburg, PA: Revisiting my Hometown
Hollidaysburg: Revisited
I don’t own any pets. Unless…
My parents, who are going international for a few weeks, ask me to watch Leo and Moka, their lively fawn pug & fat princess cat. My brother Bryce will be there too, and our schedules are wide open for the next 10 days.
But I'm not just visiting my hometown – I'm exploring it, treating it no differently than any other town I'd happen to wander into. With the knowledge of a local, but the perspective of a nomad, I set out to discover Hollidaysburg for the first time all over again.
Strawberries are my favorite fruit, and luckily for me, still in season. I go down to Leighty’s Farm Market more than once to pick up quarts of local, juicy strawberries. I don’t even bother to remove the leafy tops anymore – down the hatch they go!
Just kidding; I savor every gushing bite I take; as the yogis say “Drink your food, chew your water”
If you know me well, you know I drink milk - 25 minutes south of Duncansville, I find a hidden gem: Rissler's Dairy.
The farm is hugged by the old, aging Appalachian mountains on either side; the perfect location. The views are amazing, their prices are even better, and the quality is the best you can ask for – the only “downside” is the phone reception.
What’s a trip to Hollidaysburg without Marzoni’s? They recently hired a new pizza guy, none other than Bryce himself – another Hollingshead employed by one of the best restaurants in town.
A staple of any Central PA evening is Meadow’s ice cream. Vanilla hits every time, but be sure to check out the flavors-of-the-day. Colorful, cloudless skies fade to night, but the familiar, frozen custard never fails to light up my face.
When I visit family, I usually sleep in my childhood room – a stranger’s now. This time, I find airy clarity outside…
Under the shining stars, a tiny netted tent protecting me from the biting bugs, I’m otherwise exposed to the natural world. I spend my nights here outside, gently lulled to sleep by the patient, patterned stars overhead.
Enjoy Yourself
How would you spend your newfound freedom?
I’m excited at the untapped potential of each day – so I wake up earlier now.
Every morning I write at a coffee shop; my favorite (& the closest) is Coffee on 3rd. The cozy, uplifting interior is tasteful and devoted. Outside, 3 sheds housing local businesses sit beside a clear-roofed pavilion populated with picnic tables. Community engagement is ripe – and so are the tomatoes, peppers, and herbs growing in raised beds in the back.
But after writing, I need to move my body, so I take Leo for a walk.
>Left, right, left, right, yin, yang, in, out, up, down<
At least that’s the goal – meditation is a practice, after all.
But by the afternoon, Bryce and I have paint supplies out; oil, since that’s what Bob Ross used. Although unfamiliar with the nature of oil painting, Bryce pulls off a pretty good picture of my parents house.
I’ve done a handful of oil paintings, each one with its own challenges – but I’ve never painted a seascape before. With the painting almost done, I’m getting flustered – writing and painting in the blazing sun for 6 hours a day, for 4 days straight, must be getting to me. I need to cool off, mentally and physically.
There’s a plastic blue barrel in the back yard; the perfect setup for a homemade cold bath. I don’t sit for very long, and I don’t make it ice-cold – just something easy to contrast the elements.
Feeling refreshed, and with new determination, I finally finish my first ocean seascape painting. It’s a gift to my grandmother, a promise I made to her from a year ago.
I make a fire in the back yard – I’m basically camping at my parents house.
Campfires are relaxing and facilitate open, honest conversation – especially today, when everyone hides behind their phone. Gazing into the flickering, flitting flames, my attention is captured – for how long, who knows? The number of logs burned marks the passage of time.
Plasma vortices bite the night, and I conclude my fiery meditation, finding happiness cuddled up in my tent, watching the starry show above.
Exercise as Meditation
Some of the best trips aren't planned.
This one doubled as a sale for Gage’s Natural; I meet up with my cousin Alexis to deliver custom soap for her yoga studio in Philly.
But with that arranged, the topic changes – “yoga Saturday?”
We meet at Arya Yoga for the morning class. In the parking lot, we find ourselves both wearing the same “Ground Yourself” shirt!
Setting our mats in the center of the room, soon my sweaty shirt sticks to my skin. My body begs for attention – the gameland walks, cold baths, hikes up chimney rocks, and aggressive trampoline bouncing has me feeling stiff and sore.
One of the other yogis compliments my earthrunner sandals – I tell her I’ve exclusively worn these sandals for the past 3 weeks – we agree that’s a good thing!
On what was perhaps the hottest & driest day, I walk 9 holes at Sylvan Hills Golf Course. I send my first two drives off #1 tee box into the neighboring houses (the first one a breakfast ball) – it’ll be a practice round today.
I realize golf is an excellent meditation tool – every shot is a chance to practice body awareness, a key component to unlocking some of meditation’s greatest gifts.
I love it as a visualization tool too; each shot is a new challenge, with a different strategy, from a new perspective. The process of failing over and over and over, striving for the perfect shot, is only savored a few times a round, sometimes less – golf is hard! But If you’re brave and humble, you approach the next shot with the same determination and enthusiasm as you did the last one.
Of course, what’s a round of golf if you don’t stop to smell the roses?
-Natural landscapes
-Sculpted greenery
-Quiet atmosphere
-Fresh air
For those who want to be outside, enjoy the shining sun, and not have a care in the world, it’s a midday sanctuary.
The Lore of Hollidaysburg
I spent years overlooking the most important part of Hollidaysburg
But with new eyes, I finally recognize its foundational relic – the Allegheny Portage Railroad. From 1834 to 1854, boats traveling via canals had no way to get over the Appalachian Mountains, so Pennsylvanians had to get creative:
When the boats reached the bottom of the mountain, the goods – and sometimes the whole canal – were loaded onto rail cars. The rail cars were then dragged up the inclines by rope, powered by steam engines.
The easiest route over the mountains was a 36 mile stretch from Hollidaysburg to Johnstown. With 5 inclines on each side, 10 in total, this ingenious operation was the key bridge between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh.
But once newer, stronger locomotives could pull heavy loads up hills, the Allegheny Portage Railroad became obsolete…
When you stop to learn about the world around you, everything really does start making sense – Hollidaysburg, Johnstown, and other small settlements didn’t just randomly evolve by themselves – from frontier outposts of less than 100 people, to the development of major towns, they grew together – united and uplifted by the Allegheny Portage Railroad’s flash of prosperity.
As daylight fades and golden-orange rays shine, I drive to another local icon: Chimney Rocks. Overlooking Hollidaysburg, it’s an amazing, underrated spot to watch the sun set over the wrinkling Appalachian mountains. Getting to the top is a good workout, and it makes the view all the more worth it.
As my time in Hollidaysburg comes to a close, I pack up my things and head to the next adventure. I’m reluctant to leave – there’s still coffee shops to explore, yoga studios to visit, and local food to find. But it's not "goodbye," just a "see you later."
I came armed with local knowledge, but left realizing there’s still more to discover.
