Maryland Panhandle - The Most Scenic Drives in America: 120 Spectacular Road Trips - page 981

Nearby at Penn Alps, a center that encourages local craft traditions, Amish people clad
inblackandwhitesellhandwovenbaskets,homemadeapplebutter,andcolorfulpatchwork
quilts. Next door at the Spruce Forest Artisan Village, a renowned whittler turns chunks of
wood into graceful bird carvings that, from a distance, look like they just might fly away
and join their real-life counterparts.
5. New Germany State Park
Farther along on Rte. 40A, a turn to the south leads to New Germany State Park, a comely
patch of wilderness—with winding trails, hilly woods, and a trout-stocked lake—that
showcases the seasons to perfection. In summer an emerald canopy of cherry, oak, and
hickorytreesshadesthesegentleslopes,untilthedaysbegintoshortenandgoldandscarlet
spread like wildfire across the hillsides. All too soon, an icy, arctic breeze blows the last
leaves off the trees, a prelude to the blizzards that roar across the silent land, dumping so
much snow—over 100 inches a year—that it lasts well past winter. Only in April or May
dotherhododendronsandmountain laurels begintoshowtheir pinkandwhite blooms,ac-
knowledging the arrival of spring.
6. National Road
All the way to Cumberland, Rte. 40A traces the well-trodden route of the old National
Road, an ancient footpath first forged by Native Americans, then traipsed by explorers and
militiamen into the unmapped lands beyond the Appalachians. This historic route was des-
ignated a National Scenic Byway in 2003. In the early 1800s the government—wanting to
open up its untamed western territory—widened the path, paved it with broken stone, and
dubbed it the nation's first federal road (it was generally known as the Pike). In no time
long lines of covered wagons, their holds chock-full of pioneers yearning for a better life,
churned westward toward Oregon and Santa Fe, joining herds of teamsters and stagecoach
riders on the slow, bumpy trek. Mementos of that era include the crumbling stone mile
markers scattered here and there along the roadside, the tiny village of Frostburg—which
grew up around a cluster of taverns, smithies, and inns that served travelers plying the Na-
tional Road—and in the town of LaVale, an old brick tollhouse.