The Wissahickon: A Gorge That Hid From the City

Seven miles through northwest Philadelphia. The gorge is deep enough and the forest old enough that the city above the rim — Chestnut Hill, Mount Airy, Germantown — is invisible from the valley floor. Forbidden Drive: five miles of gravel along the creek, cars banned since 1924. The name stuck with defiant pride.

Sycamores bare and white as bone in November. Creek running clear over schist boulders. A kingfisher on a branch — crested head cocked, calculating trajectories — dove, hit water with a sharp crack, came up with a minnow in one second. The Valley Green Inn at the midpoint has served food since 1850. Low ceilings, wide floorboards, fireplace burning. Walking the Wissahickon and ending at Valley Green with hot cider is one of Philadelphia's perfect sequences, like cheese on a pretzel or booing Santa Claus.

October for the gorge becoming a color cathedral. April for trillium and Virginia bluebells. The rock faces are Wissahickon schist flecked with mica that catches light and makes the cliffs sparkle. Free, multiple trailheads, SEPTA buses serve several. Philadelphia got this one exactly right.