Gobbler's Knob

I've been a little obsessed lately with Gobbler's Knob. Where's that you say?

Here's how my grandfather (W.D. "Golly" Fish) wrote in the Potter Enterprise of this place so close to his heart.

"Gobbler's Knob, with its feet all wet in Nine Mile Run and its head amid the clouds. Wonder if that mythical gobbler of Paul Bunyon size, will frighten visitors and native alike, as he calls his harem, or will they delight in his mighty call and stand entranced, rooted to the mountainside!"

" 'State Park for Winter Sports To Be Opened By January On Denton Hill'  We will stand for the above heading except the Denton Hill part of it. According to our speedometer it will be four miles east of Denton Hill. Since it will be only about a half mile from Golly's Folly, probably octogenarian Golly will be there the opening day with his skis. Ha, ha, ha."

"Golly reached the top of Gobbler's Knob the other day – away up where the ski enthusiast will take off – come next skiing season at Denton Hill State Park. He took a long look down one of the runs. It was steep and a long way down to the bottom of Nine Mile Valley. Packed snow, with woods on either side! The thought of pushing off – Golly wanted no part of it. He might have felt differently 40 or 50 years ago. However, there will be plenty of folks – old and young – who will take the power tow, reach the pinnacle of lofty old Gobbler's Knob and let loose! Zip! And there you are!"

November 1959

 

The view from Gobbler's Knob today

It's been years since skiers zipped down from Gobbler's Knob. The ski area has been shuttered since 2014. The sign still says Denton Hill State Park and it's still within the State Park system. Just last week, officials from DCNR opened up the shuttered lodge and hosted a session to offer up Gobbler's Knob to development as a four-season "Adventure Center." The state is looking for concessionaires to work with them in a public-private partnership.

I am hoping that this suggestion, posted on the Save Denton Hill facebook group, will gain some traction.

"How about a ski resort with a little soul? Maybe just run the poma, a little grooming on the hill below it for beginners. Just clean brush and manage glades on the upper mountain for those who like to earn their turns. Allow car camping and you'll have a pretty hardy group of skiers who currently drive to VT and NH to car camp and ski glades. Very little overhead costs, and you won't create a Disneyland atmosphere (like is happening everywhere Vail and Alterra buy up) in the middle Pennsylvania's more secluded, wild and beautiful counties. Ascutney in Vermont is a good model to follow. As is Brattleboro or Cochran's in Vermont. All family or township owned. Some managed by volunteers. 

My grandfather wrote this in July 1958, as construction of the ski area was underway:

"Just now, however, we are thinking more about the new winter sports area than famous Ole Bull and his famous Stradivarius. Golly can close his eyes and see hundreds of colorfully clothed skiers dotting the Nine Mile mountain, Gobbler's Knob, – some descending at high speed –some on the uphill tow, some taking a spill, some at the lodge for a snack or a coffee break, or to get warm at the great fireplace filled with blazing logs. Great doings in the Nine Mile Valley – come next winter."

Christmas Eve 1970

 

It was cold and snowy that Christmas Eve as a group of high school classmates gathered, heady with the intoxication of being with familiar pals at the midpoint of sophomore year of college - though I can't say whether other intoxicants were in play. Sophomore always brings to mind the high school teacher who related sophomore translates to wise fool, though I cannot remember which teacher.

And so we went to The Reverend's rambling old house, a familiar hangout for us, to spend the evening away from the watchful eyes of our parents, before duty called him to preach the sermon for the combined Methodist-Presbyterian candlelight service at 11.

 I see the red velvet maxi skirt Susan wore that night, hand crafted by her mother who was often found sitting at the Singer sewing machine in the corner of the den in their big foursquare house on West Street. And the care taken in curling our long flowing locks - mine tamed with Clairol's heated rollers - the off-white ones with the spikes.  Debbie's  hair was perhaps her natural color by then. Carol, always the lady, with her legs clad in panty hose and neatly tucked to the side. I was hiding in the back, always self conscious, and next to me Arthur. Not a classmate, he was new to our group. It was six months into our relationship and six months before we were married by that same Reverend.

Even the boys were dressed up - Jeffrey with his special tie-dyed striped jeans and a baggy sports jacket. He had affected pipe smoking - this one with tobacco, no doubt. Dan chose a striped sport shirt and there's Tom, comfortably lounging in oxford cloth and denim. Keck in the back, wearing a brown bulky sweater that was a bit too long in the sleeves. Was his hand raised to instruct The Reverend as he struggled with Susan's Instamatic camera or was he directing the action as he so often did?

This photo surfaces every five years or so as our Class of 1969 marks off the years since graduation with a reunion, and we pore over the faded photos in albums and scrapbook memorabilia to remember.

The Reverend kept a framed copy with him as he moved on in 1972, first to Mansfield and then to Ohio and finally back to Coudersport. It was found among his effects after he died.*

*I find when mining memories for writing practice, the universe often coughs up other so-called ticklers. Yesterday I came across a letter from The Reverend, dated December 23, 1981. I share some of his closing words here:

"I often think of you both - particularly since I have a Christmas Eve group picture taken in 1970 I believe. You are two of the nine people in the picture. Yes, Debbie Lewis is in it too, in case Jane wants to know. The picture is displayed in my living room. My love to you both. God bless you all."