Not everyone gets to see a mule-powered canal boat pass by their office window on a regular basis, but our offices are in Hugh Moore Park, Easton, which contains one of the few operational canals in the nation.  On weekends during September, the park offers rides on the canal. Visit the National Canal Museum’s website for more information.

Written By Silas Chamberlin

Remember that weekend last fall when you and your buddies piled into the car and made an epic journey through the Corridor, consuming large quantities of only the finest beer and artery-clogging but delicious food? Well, those days are over. The girl you met at Pittston’s Coopa Cabbana became your girlfriend, and things are getting serious. Everything about her seems perfect. She is beautiful, intelligent, funny, and a die-hard Phillies fan. But, recently, your world came crashing down. A week ago, you took her to Terpstra’s Tavern in Jim Thorpe, and, playing the role of gentleman, ordered up a pair of $2 burgers and a couple pints of Stoudt’s Scarlet Lady ESB.

Terpstra's Tavern in Jim Thorpe is home of the $2 burger.

When the drinks came, she took a defiant sip of her water and stated, “Sorry, I don’t like beer. It tastes bad, and it makes you fat.” Your heart skipped a beat, not sure which hurt more—the fact that the woman you were falling in love with hates beer or the thinly veiled reference to your beer gut. “But,” she continued, “I would really love a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon to go with this burger.” A group of guys at the bar, overhearing the conversation, laughed heartily, as you tried to repeat those fancy sounding words to the waitress. “You know,” you thought to yourself, “if I am going to make this relationship work, I need to swallow my pride (and these two pints of Stoudt’s) and cultivate an appreciation for wine.” Turning to your girlfriend, you asked, “Honey, how would you like to do a wine tour of Eastern Pennsylvania?”

The Inn at Bowman's Hill is one of Bucks County's most popular Bed & Breakfasts.

You both agree to start in Bucks County to work your way north, and, after eschewing your customary pizza-flavored Combos for Vitamin Water and rice crisps, you are ready to start your tour. You make the short drive from the Inn at Bowman’s Hill, where you spent the night, to Crossing Vineyards and Winery, located less than half a mile from the Delaware Canal in the town of Washington Crossing. The grounds of this family-owned winery are breathtaking. In addition to 15-acres of vines, there are manicured lawns, fountains, flower beds, and a 200-year old stone home. You especially get a kick out of all of the winery’s green initiatives, from solar power and composting to recycling and sustainable agricultural practices. You decide to order a bottle of their Le Nouveau, a semi-dry wine culled from the early harvest, to drink on the patio. Your girlfriend points out the tannic structure; you think it “tastes…like wine.”

One of the gardens at Crossing Vineyards.

Regretfully leaving the idyllic winery grounds, you hop on scenic Route 32, which offers great views of the Delaware River, and continue north to the canal-side town of New Hope and its eponymous New Hope Winery. The winery sells bottles of its wines here, but the grapes actually come from northwestern Pennsylvania. Buy a bottle or two of their award-winning Riesling, which benefits from the cooler, lakeside climate. Try to pick out the rose petal aroma and perhaps an apricot aftertaste. You decide to stick around to listen to the local musicians who play at the winery. You’re lucky, this week the Simon and Garfunkel Tribute Band is in town!

The New Hope Winery offers tastings of their northwestern PA wines and live music.

Before hitting your next destination, you turn west for the Peddlers’ Village in Lahaska. “Uh oh,” you’re thinking. “The only thing worse than a winery tour is a winery and shopping tour.” But three million annual visitors can’t be wrong, and, after milling around the 70 shops and 6 restaurants, you have to admit that this is a pretty neat place. You’re especially fond of the Cock n’ Bull Restaurant, which serves an unforgettable baked brie with raspberry and walnut glaze. Now if only you could get “I am a Rock” out of your head…

Lahaska's Peddler's Village offers over 70 shops and 6 restaurants.

Sticking close to the river, you head north for Sand Castle Winery. This 72-acre estate, with views of the Delaware River, has been turning out bottles of Pinot Noir, Riesling, and other favorites since the mid-1980s. Amidst the vines, you’re starting to realize that half the fun of a winery tour is walking the grounds. The estate includes a light-tan stucco building with faux battlements and parapets—hence, “sand castle”—that gives the grounds a European feel. You marvel at the structure, wondering “how much it costs to insure this place?,” as your girlfriend purchases two bottles of the Private Reserve Chablis to serve at your annual clam bake.

Rows of vines lead up to the "Sand Castle."

In your attempts to duck out of conversations with overzealous tasting room winos, you’ve been reading the promotional materials at every winery, and as a budding sommelier, you recognize that as you head further north and turn west along the Lehigh River, you are entering a new viticultural area, or wine region. You had been in the Central Delaware Valley viticultural area, which spans some 96,000 acres along the Delaware River, but, as you head west on Route 22, you enter the 1.2-million acre Lehigh Valley viticultural area. With a similar climate to the Nantes region of France, Lehigh Valley wineries specialize in Chambourcin, a wine with the peppery spiciness of Shiraz, the softness of Merlot, and the aging properties of Cabernet. Or, so they say in the brochures…

Just south of Bath, Amore Vineyards great wine, fresh produce, and flowers.

As you head west past Easton, your longing eyes peer to the left, searching in vain for a glimpse of Weyerbacher Brewing’s non-descript warehouse. “Honey, keep an eye out for Route 512,” your girlfriend says, snapping you out of your hops and barley reverie and back to the task at hand. Your next stop is Amore Vineyards and Winery, just outside the small town of Bath. During a tasting, you discover that Amore vints a Cayuga that drinks like a Riesling but with a more complex floral bouquet. You are enjoying a second glass, when your girlfriend comes back inside chatting with Gregg Amore, the owner of the winery. “Gregg offers flying instruction in a 1970s era Twin Comanche,” she says excitedly. “He has an opening in two hours.” You thoughtfully remind her that the next winery is beckoning. (Besides, you’re afraid of heights.)

Clover Hill regularly offers tours of their facilities.

She takes the bait, and you are off to the west of Allentown, where both Clover Hill and Vyncrest wineries make their homes. Clover Hill is a relatively large winery, with storefront locations throughout Eastern Pennsylvania. Try their Spiced Apple wine, with hints of cinnamon and clove. It is surprisingly refreshing, even on warm summer days, and it would make a perfect choice for the crisp autumn nights that are just around the corner. Just up the road is the smaller but no less impressive Vynecrest Vineyards. Vynecrest got its start back in the heady days of 1973, when John and Jan Landis were swept up by the homesteading movement and bought five acres of farmland. The next year they had fifty vines in the soil, and, after about 15 more years, they quite generously decided to share their wines with the rest of us. You escape the heat by ducking into Vynskeller, the winery’s weekends-only wine bar, which also serves appetizers. Today they are featuring goat cheese from Stonecroft Farm in Macungie, and you sagaciously pair it with the house white.

The tasting room at Vyncrest fills up quickly on the weekends.

Next you head north for a little valley about 20 minutes west of Jim Thorpe, where Galen Glen Vineyard has made its home since 1995. The tasting room is located on a hillside and offers panoramic views of the vine-covered glen below. Before settling down at the tasting bar, you are lucky enough to run into Harry, an imposing figure who wows you with his knowledge of wine and, perhaps more importantly, food pairings. He shares his secret recipe for Spanish clams and shrimp tapas. “Pair them with our Grüner Veltliner,” Harry whispers, as if imparting sacred knowledge, “and you’ll never think of food the same way again.” Always the planner, you buy a bottle of Stone Cellar Barrel Twenty Nine, already imagining how good this port will taste sitting around the campfire on your next fishing trip.

The wine is as good as the view at Galen Glen Winery.

Swinging east to historic Jim Thorpe across an increasingly mountainous region, you drop in for dinner at Flow, a farm-to-table restaurant operated by the Carbon County Cultural Project (CCCP). Flow is located in a restored 1850s wire works factory, which also doubles as an art gallery and studio space. The local art is alright, but you are more interested in the large opening in the floor that provides a view of a gushing stream, running directly beneath the buildings. You settle in at a table near the stream, order up some whole wheat potato gnocchi, and settle on a bottle of Rose Eye, one of three wines produced under the CCCP label. “Ahhh,” you muse, “I could get used to this wine thing.”

CCCP's Flow Restaurant is housed in a nineteenth-century wire factory.

Making your way down the hill into downtown historic Jim Thorpe, you see a sign for Big Creek Vineyard. You slow down and stare into the rearview mirror, seeking—amidst the crates of wine and luggage—room for just one last bottle. “What the hell,” you say to your girlfriend, “you have space in the front seat, right?” Big Creek’s vines are actually located in Kresgeville, just east of Beltzville State Park, but they maintain a store front in Jim Thorpe to lure people like you into buying a couple of bottles on their way through town. After conversing with the staff, you settle on two extremes: the port-like Frontenac, which you enjoyed once in its homeland of Minnesota but haven’t seen since, and the Apple Raspberry fruit wine, which should go well with that block of blue cheese in the cooler.

Big Creek Vineyards has a storefront location in Historic Jim Thorpe.

Back in the car, you consult the map. “Well, it looks like we are just about back to the place where this all started,” you remark regretfully, not wanting your wine and food fueled journey to end. “You know,” your girlfriend hesitantly responds, “Scranton is not far from here…” You searched her face, trying to figure out what she meant. It had only been six months since you last toured the Anthracite Heritage Museum, so that couldn’t be it. Like any good Phillies fan, you can’t stomach New York teams, so no Scranton/Wilkes-Barre Yankees game. The Steamtown Mall? The Houdini Museum? Sno Cove Water Park? “Hmm. I’m not really sure what you mean…,” you begin to admit but stop in mid sentence, recognition washing over you: “You want to go to Carmen’s!!??”

Carmen's is located within the recently restored Lackawanna Station.

Carmen’s Restaurant & Wine Bar, located in the grand lobby of the Radisson Lackawanna Station Hotel, is a diamond in the culinary rough of northeastern PA. Financially drained from your adventure, you settle for a bread plate with hummus and tapenade and, feeling courageous, an ahi tuna sushi pizza. With little thought, you select a 2007 Erath Pinot Noir to pair with the hummus and the sushi—a move that gets an approving nod from the impressed waiter. Sitting back in your plush seat, you admire the beaux arts structure with its vaulted, Tiffany-glass ceiling—a testament to the booster optimism of fin de siècle Scranton. This is even nicer than Weissport’s Boat Yard Bar, you think to yourself. Finishing your meal and pouring two more glasses of wine, you and your partner take to the dance floor…

The dining room at Carmen's, located in the Grand Lobby of the Lackawanna Station.

As the sun sets on another beautiful Pennsylvania day, you find yourself sitting on a bench outside the Coopa’ Cabana, the tiki bar that brought you and your girlfriend together for the first time. Attempting to impress her with your newfound appreciation for and knowledge of wine, you pull out a bottle of Bartolai’s Callabritto, made just down the river in Harding. “It is a unique dry blend, amore mio, with a sophisticated fruit taste,” you announce, in your best faux-Italian accent. She, laughs, and pulls out her own surprise—a bottle of Victory’s Yakima Twilight. “It has the tenacious grip of big, juicy hop aroma and character that slides smoothly into rich, dark malts,” she recites from the bottle. You look at her with loving eyes, as the sun dips below the horizon, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”

You must be 21 years old to consume alcoholic beverages.  Always drink responsibly.

Written By Silas Chamberlin

One of the great things about living in Allentown is that you are never very far from a park. I live in the Fairview section of Allentown—just a few blocks from the 15th Street entrance to the Little Lehigh Parkway. I have lived in the neighborhood since I moved to the Lehigh Valley for graduate school, but during the first three years had never walked in the parkway. Around this time last year, my wife and I adopted a dog, Benton (Ben for short), and I inevitably began walking more of Allentown’s streets and neighborhoods. One day, on a whim, I decided to walk up Wyoming Street and check out the parkway. I was immediately hooked. Since then Ben and I have walked in some section of the parkway practically every day of the year. In short, it is a treasure—one of the greatest assets in Allentown and the Lehigh Valley as a whole.

Benton MacKaye "Ben" Chamberlin surveys the Little Lehigh Parkway in Allentown.

The parkway follows the Little Lehigh Creek from the 15th Street Bridge in the heart of Allentown nearly 5 miles to Keck’s bridge on the rural outskirts of Emmaus. In most areas, wide cinder trails parallel both sides of the creek, linked periodically by bridges that allow for loop trips. Except after the heaviest rains or snow melt, the trails are always in excellent condition for biking, walking, and even horseback riding, and you will regularly see all three uses. Depending on where you choose to walk, you can expect to pass a number of neat little curiosities. If you start out at the eastern end of the parkway, you’ll pass an old train trestle, beautiful CCC-era stone retaining walls and staircases, and dormant iron forges. If you head to the western end, you can feed trout at the Lil-Le-Hi Fish Nursery, which raises 30,000 trout a year, stop in at the Museum of Indian Culture, or learn how to fly fish at the Little Lehigh Fly Shop. Start in the middle, near Oxford Drive, if you like old covered bridges: Bogert’s covered bridge is Lehigh County’s oldest. As if all of this weren’t enough, the parkway boasts a very nice disc golf course that takes you from the banks of the creek to the rim of the valley, plenty of wildlife and native plants, and a world-class Christmas display and tour called Lights in the Parkway. I can testify that one could walk the trails of the parkway for years and still discover something new.

But my walking partner Ben–despite being named for Appalachian Trail visionary Benton MacKaye—does not like trails. He prefers a little space to run in circles, tear through tall grasses, and stomp in the water, and I, always a sucker for his pouty face, am happy to indulge him. So, lately we have been hopping in the car and making the short trip down to the trailhead near Keck’s Bridge, at the western extreme of the parkway. Here, a small, trail-less leg of the parkway is cut off from the main section by some steep slopes and a bend in the creek creating a nice, self-contained park frequented mostly by fly fisherman and the occasional dog walker. During the last year, perhaps because of budgetary constraints or because of ecological enlightenment, the city has allowed native grasses to grow high in this area, creating a riparian buffer and natural, fallow meadow. These “Grow Zones,” as the posted signs call them, are dotted with young maples and oak that will one day fill in the small field along the creek. I remember seeing this area a few years ago, when it was a mowed lawn, and I can say that the transformation is both remarkable and, in terms of the diversity of wildlife, the health of the creek, and the enjoyment of walkers, a change for the better.

This "Grow Zone" section of the parkway features a meadow of native grasses.

Ben and I usually park in the lot closest to the stone bridge. I set my watch to make sure I don’t skimp him on the requisite hour walk, and then we follow the faint, overgrown fisherman’s path along the edge of the creek towards the bridge, sending brown sucker fish and the occasional trout darting away from our shadows. I like to walk this short section because I can’t seem to catch glimpses of fish along the other faster-moving portions of the creek and because it keeps me close to the garbage can at the parking lot, where I dispose of Ben’s customary black plastic bag. Having finished our fish reconnoitering and other business, we usually stop for Ben to get a drink out of the creek before following another primitive little path away from the lot. I like the sound of the water and watching the birds move from meadow to trees; Ben likes pretending that he sees something in the tall grass and then diving in after it, shoving his nose deep into the growth, snorting, and vigorously wagging his stump of a trail.

A fisherman's path follows the Little Lehigh Creek.

We follow the path until it comes out at Keck’s Bridge, a modern, open grate bridge over which Ben’s little paws cannot walk. We pass under the bridge and along the side of the creek towards the Lehigh Country Club, which marks the terminus of the parkway. There’s a spot where the creek widens and flows, just a few inches deep, around a series of small islands. Ben bounds and I, a little more carefully if no more gracefully, ease myself down off the muddy banks into the always-clear waters of the creek. We take our time crossing it. Ben is not a swimmer. He prefers to lower himself into the water, bite it, and then shake himself off. Looking up the creek towards the golf course we often see ducks taking off or fish jumping. There is one massive carp or catfish that is always on the prowl along that sluggish section, and when Ben nears him, the fish slowly wags his long body and cruises into deeper water.

Ben and I walk through the water on our way to the arboretum.

On the other side of the creek, we make our way up the bank and through the weeds into another small section of the parkway—the Arboretum. This field should be a melancholy place—a large number of the metal identification markers are missing or their stone bases are toppled, and, in my many visits to this area, I have never seen anyone reading the markers or admiring the slightly unkempt trees. The city’s maps of the parkway make no indication of the arboretum, and the small gravel parking lot is more often used for lovers’ rendezvous and oil changes than as parking for droves of nature lovers. Ben and I don’t care. We like the arboretum, read the markers identifying exotic tree species, notice when someone cuts the grass, and look carefully in the bushes for the fox and deer who live there. The arboretum spans both sides of Keystone Drive, and we sometimes carefully cross the road and take the short path to nearby Devonshire Park. Between the park and arboretum, the city and radio station WDIY, working through the TreeVitalize program, planted what looks like hundreds of trees, amidst native grasses. In a few years, I will be untangling Ben’s leash from a tree in that woodlot.

Maple and oak sapplings grow amidst native grasses.

We normally walk in the evenings, which means that the setting sun or an impending thunderstorm dictates when we turn around. If Ben “sees” a lot of prey in the grasses or stops to pee often, we can spend up to 40 minutes walking before we turn around—that makes for a round-trip of little over an hour. Not bad for him or me, after a day cooped up in an apartment and an office. On the way back, after crossing the creek and passing under Keck’s Bridge again, the meadow is wide enough that we can take an alternate route back to the car. This time we walk along the upper tree line rather than the creek. Ben is under the illusion that we are looking for rabbits or groundhogs, but I am really trying to keep him away from the temptations of the creek in the minutes immediately preceding our return to my relatively clean car. When we get back, Ben shakes off and jumps into his seat. By now the sun is setting over the Little Lehigh and the meadow, the crickets are chirping and fish are rising, and we can almost forget that we have spent an hour walking in the third most populous urban area in the state without passing more than a handful of humans or being disturbed by an occasional car on the lazy country road.