Mr. Wilkie's Cabin

In the Before Times, the array of abandoned and urban exploration pages I follow online would sometimes provide a blueprint for future trips. At some point, I saw a gratuitously tagged cabin and I had to do a double take when I read its location as familiar. Never before had I heard about or seen pictures of this cabin, nestled away somewhere in South Jersey. It had such a unique personality and I was shocked that I had not seen it previously. It just so turned out that my discovery of it and my subsequent trips to see it in person occurred just before most of the country entered lockdown a few months ago due to the pandemic. I had accidentally spent the last afternoon before the shutdown, oblivious of the coming health crisis, ducking through the woods to find Mr. Wilkie's cabin.

The Penn Hills Resort

For New Year’s celebrations, some prefer partying with throngs of lovely strangers in the city; some with many loved ones in a home furnished for social gatherings. This last year, the gang and I decided to do something a little different. We rang in the New Year in a game-laden hotel room, telling horrible stories of fiction one word and a time, eating family-restaurant chain congealed appetizers two hours before the drop, and, of course, trekking into the Pocono Mountains and visiting the fabled Penn Hills Resort.