Downingtown to Lewes

I arrived late to my Aunt's apartment in Downingtown last night.  My family has been in the Downingtown area going back to the mid-1600's.  Dowlin Forge on the Brandywine river just north of the borough was the place, Dowlins/Devlins/O'Devlins being my ancestors from Scotland, sometimes from Ireland - they went back and forth.  My Aunt is a font of family history on the Jenkins side.  She and my dad grew up in the house on the hill overlooking the forge, and until a few years ago the 1760's caretakers house down the hill was the home for her and my uncle and cousins.  I did a photo essay before she sold it to preserve the decades of memories I have of going there.

My Aunt is now my only remaining relative of my parents generation.  She was a strong influence on me as a child through her colorful stories of the family history and her deep appreciation of social manners or propriety.  Her encouragement and support have been an anchor in the difficult times of the past few years.

Quiet day at Northbrook Canoe Co. on the Western branch of the Brandywine River in SE Pennsylvania.

Old (1873) Northbrook station (now a residence) on the old Wilmington & Northern Line - now used by the Brandywine Valey scenic railroad

 This afternoon from Downingtown I took 322 to Sugars Bridge road to Northbrook road, a winding series around the Brandywine riverways shaded by trees and revealing one after another bucolic scene of country life and gentleman farms. Around a bend I ran smack into the Northbrook Canoe Co.; I'd completely forgotten where it was but I had a picture with high school friends there in 1984 when on a hot summer day I dragged them along for a canoe trip.  There are many more buildings than I remember, old wood, and a railroad with old station/house. I walked around. The place seemed open but devoid of people, until I found the office in the middle of the compound. According to Zane in a green polo shirt and baseball cap, Northbrook has been there 37 years…I realize that I'm older than this "old" place. It would have opened when I was 8.  Nothing appears to have changed - I still have the original brochure from 1984 and it contains the same illustrations.

SE Pennsylvania Meadow on Rte 82.

 

Mushroom Farm Capital

 It's such a beautiful drive on these roads through a very lovely part of PA, lots of farms, one-intersection hamlets, and old stone houses.  I headed south through Kennett Square on PA82.  Haven't been in KSQ in 30 years.  A brick Victorian burg with a main street, modestly maintained victorian brick row houses with wood porches.  Before he died, my cousin Jimmy managed one of the mushroom farms here that KSQ is famous for.  I've always appreciated the flavor and charm of these eastern PA towns - Downingtown has a mix of the same - colonial & victorian housing with some run down 19c industrial spaces.  Easton, PA is another example, where Jewel Song came from. It would be neat to do a photo essay on these places.  One of the other significant features of eastern PA are the stone houses dating from colonial times - you can't drive a mile in any direction without seeing one, mined from the region's past as a present-day home or business, or left as decrepit monuments to the ghosts of past lives long forgotten.  The stone is Wissahickon schist, culled from the valley of the river that bears the same name.  Some (LINK) have written widely on the use of this material and how unique the area is because of it - nowhere else I've been in the Northeast has such a prevalence.

On Strasburg Road.

Alas, I realize I can't make it to Ridley Park and the Swarthmore Ave house where Mom lived during High School - too far east and I want to arrive in Cape Henlopen before storms hit or it's too dark to cook.



 
Nonetheless, I later find myself in a pounding rain and flash-floody storm at 5:31pm. On Deleware route 1, people are heading home from work. Going 40 MPH with flashers on, three miles north of Smyrna DE.  DE1 is not an unpleasant roadway although it is multi-lane. There is an astonishing amount of water pouring out of the sky.  Jewel Song's wipers are keeping up, her AWD is moving us along sturdily.

Delaware Rte 1 bridge north of Dover.

 

I 

Downpour.

I arrived in Cape Henlopen as the storm was clearing and attempted to register for a campsite.  I'd called earlier in the day to see if I needed a reservation and was told they had plenty of spots, since it was a Thursday night.  I could have gone online and reserved a spot with Delaware's sophisticated parks web site, but threw caution to the wind to be more like the aimless wanderer I wanted to be.  Mistake, for the registration agent was having trouble with his computer when I got there.  Computerized campgrounds have arrived and it's a complicated scene.  After an hour of going back and forth looking for sites with no yellow reservation tag on them, while looking also online to see what was stil available on the web site, a very hungry and annoyed Susan finally parked in a spot and set about her first night of camping in several years. Unwrapping the stove rescued from Riverdale I hooked it up and began assembling dinner.  About 9:00pm as I was putting the finishing touches on a few sausages and green beans, a large, loud family with many pre-adolescent children who liked hollering stadium chants and hip-hop lines to each other pulled in two rows over.  The campsites are very close together at CHSP so there was no missing these folks for any of the rest of us.  I felt myself stiffen up at the prospect of going to say something to them - after all, it's a family campground, and I'm just a solo weirdo making gourmet sausages and haricots vert, who's going to sleep in her padded car rather than set up a tent on the wet sand for one night.  I decided they would probably quiet down after a while and I would sleep peacefully, if not eat peacefully.  This was the case.

The next day was supposed to be dry and sunny, but I awoke at 6:00 to windy rain.  Instead of the lovely walk to the beach through the dunes followed by a short swim, I contemplated just throwing on some clothes, hitting the bathroom, and driving into town with a bead on a good cafe.  It was a shame to be in this beautiful place and not at least take a walk.  I dressed quickly and donned my parka, swung by the bathroom for morning ablutions, and then proceeded towards the sandy trail from the campsite that leads to the dunes.  A few sullen campers in hoodies and pj's drifted past.   

On the path was an old lookout tower from WW2.  The Delaware shore is dotted with them, particularly Henlopen and it's NJ sister Cape May, which protect the harbor that leads to the Delaware river and Philadelphia. Henlopen was the site of Fort Mill, a small base that is now part of the park and used by group youth camps, such as the one lead by my teachers from General Wayne Junior High every year for 7th graders.  It was a highlight of my 2 years there, which were otherwise torturous in the way Jr. High usually is.

Tower 7, Cape Henlopen

I came upon Tower 7, which is the only one open to the public, and ascended.  The wind whirled through the small slits in the side of the concrete and echoed off the metal staircase, making a whuh-whuh-whuh sound that was intriguing and haunting.  The hills of the park and cape slowly came into view as I reached each level until I was at the wet, windy top.  The ocean was churning a mile from my vantage, and the Cape and Lewes barely visible.  It also appeared to be quite a long way to the beach; as I was becoming miserably chilly and wet, I decided this would be my tour of the park and a cafe was calling.

Tower 7

View towards the Ocean from Tower 7

I stopped at the campground office to pay for the night, since they had not collected from me during the debacle of the previous night - but no one was there.  The shade was drawn.  It was 8:30.  I drove off to town, not willing to endure more hassle, feeling guilty.

Cafe Azafran, Lewes DE

I discovered Cafe Azafran, which was the perfect home to wait out the rain and catch up on photo downloads and journal entries. Lewes is a cheerful, charming place with a small-town feel - lots of colorfully painted, nicely maintained houses downtown; thoughtful parks, a light tourist scene.  It calls itself "The First City in the First State," referring to it's first settlement date of 1631 when the Dutch first established there.  Lewes was tossed back and forth between the Dutch and Lenni Lenape, followed by the British, until finally settled more or less permanently by the British in the late 1670's. Nestled between Cape Henlopen and the Great Marsh Preserve, it is home to the University of Deleware's Marine studies campus and Beebe Medical Center, founded by two brothers doctors in the early 1900's.

Third Street, Lewes, DE

Third Street, Lewes, DE

Second St, Lewes DE

St Peter's Labyrinth, 2nd Street

St Peter's Episcopal on Mulberry in Downtown Lewes.

Lewes, DE 2nd Street

Lewes, DE Post Office

 The sun eventually came out around Noon and the remainder of my time in Lewes was going to be devoted to finding my Grandfather's plot in the Methodist Cemetary.  A handwritten note in the strongbox indicated he was buried there; and my mother had at one time or another said she thought he was there. I was expecting to find him and record the location, as well as see who else of interest might be buried next to him in case it lead to relatives we haven't tracked down yet.