The annual Ridgway (Pa.) Chainsaw Carvers Rendezvous is finished for this year, but check its website here for next year's event. More than 200 carvers are spread through the square and a nearby large parking lot, showing off their collections, and making more as you watch. Bears were the carving model of choice, apparently, but there were plenty of eagles and owls, and even a teeter-totter. The artists are from as far away as Germany.
Saw dust and chips were everywhere, the whine of chainsaws too. The event is sponsored by a local art gallery, without help from the Chamber of Commerce or the town. There wasn't a motel room available for miles around, and restuarants were packed. Like Punxsutawny's Ground Hog Day, just down the road, it seems this is Ridgway's one event that makes it stand out.
There's a whole lot of money flowing into town that week. But on Saturday, it ended after the auction which raised money for charity. So, we got back into the car.
Finding snow this winter has seen something of a problem, so we headed off again to the eastern Cleveland suburbs to see a few flakes. There wasn't much snow there either, but the old standby of Chardon, Ohio, known for its snow and sugar maple festival, had more than most. Even the ponds and lakes were still frozen, and we watched Dan and Kevin wander out to the East Branch to go ice fishing.
That wasn't going well, as far as the quantity of fish goes, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves with their homemade ice fishing shelter, complete with heater, skis, and a few beers.
Up the road a few miles, Ken and Lindy were tapping hard and soft sugar maple trees (I didn't know there was a difference) for the upcoming collection and annual maple syrup-making. About 130 trees are now dressed with old white milk jugs in Tom's back woods.
About 20,000 people crowded into Punxsutawney, Pa. Saturday on Groundhog Day to discover Punxsutawney Phil's prediction about early daffodils or late snow storms.
This is truly all about the groundhog.
Gates opened at 3 a.m. for the four-hour production at Gobbler's Knob about a mile out of town. As usual, the forecast came shortly after 7 a.m.
Start thinking about draining the snowblower, hanging up the snow shovel.
But wait a minute. Of his 116 predictions on record so far, Punxsutawney Phil has
predicted an "early spring" 16 times (13.8%). As to his accuracy,
according to the StormFax Weather Almanac and records kept since 1887,
Phil's predictions have been correct 39% of the time.
Think about it. Officially, spring comes on March 20-- about six weeks from now. So either way, Phil will be right. But he gives us a great excuse for a mid-winter party.
Groundhog Day is Punxy's biggest day. A little smaller than Red Lion, the town bursts open every February 2. At Punxy Phil's diner, it seems all 20,000 fans try to get breakfast at one time. People wait in a line that trails out the door, into a covered area warmed by a propane heater. I waited about 45 minutes for breakfast, but didn't mind.
Despite the traffic jam at the door, the wait staff was still smiling at day's end. Badges worn by all said "Team Phil". Kay, who has worked at the diner for 30 years, was recently named Career Woman of the Year.
Visited with the other diners as they paid their check at the register. Aside from the workers, I didn't talk with anyone from Punxsutawney, but spoke with folks from Norway, Japan, Cleveland, Raleigh, Louisville, Toledo and Coney Island. Some drove in early for Phil's sunrise report, others came later in the morning to browse the concessions. One couple drove from Maine to get married here Saturday morning.
It's interesting what can be sold with some reference to a groundhog. The Trailhead art gallery had its own pole in its front window, on which a doll named Phil and human handler curled around on, trying to lure visitors into a lunch of chili, water and cookies. It was cold outside -- nine degrees-- and snowing.
At Barclay Square, tents were set up to sell carvings, hats, chocolate, dog treats, pizza, burgers, refrigerator magnets and pens.
A downtown hotel was allegedly renting rooms for $400. Across the street, McDonald's was doing a booming business.
But by noon, much of the crowd had seen what it came to see, that is, Phil's production at Gobbler's Knob, and the sidewalks were quiet again. The craft show in the community building started closing up. The Weather Channel's Jim Cantori, was inducted into Punxy's Weatherman Hall of Fame, then headed home after buying a hoodie with Phil's picture on it.
Many towns throughout the U.S. and the world have tried to copy Punxy Phil's magic. There's Staten Island Chuck, General Beauregard Lee in Georgia, Lancaster's Octoraro Orphie, and even other
weather animals like Furky the Wonder Chicken in Vancouver, Canada. All their supporters claim their mascot is the best, first, finest or most accurate.
The festival/carnival atmosphere is a lot like those found in other small towns which have created an event to put themselves on the map. Like the Glen Rock Carolers strolling through town, visitors travel for miles to see and hear the event personally.
All towns need something to crow about, to be proud of. A woman in Punxy Phil's explained it well-- if not for this groundhog, Punxy would be just another small town whose best days are behind it, lost in middle of the woods.
That wasn't going well, as far as the quantity of fish goes, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves with their homemade ice fishing shelter, complete with heater, skis, and a few beers.
