There's a path I like to take that flows with the river and back again. It goes down a tributary by the gas station to the city: thicker and thicker around the stream until the little creek is crossed by bridge and bridge until covered by tunnel until open once again in the internal courtyard of an open square, a space overgrown with masonry stairs crossing banisters all light by halogen bulbs and charmed by street singers and dancers. Follow the water and its path is completely enclosed by pipe. One has to ride though the water itself in the dark until the last possible second where it dumps down in to the Schuylkill river proper. Turn right and a maintenance tunnel breaks back into the day. You're deep in the woods, the pipe entrance is lined with graffiti by custom only in white paint. The trail disappears for a short while by the river itself, I'd carry my bike over logs and stones to reach a path again, visible in a barely unnatural concentration of gravel. People know this trail, its the famous one you'll see posted on Instagram-- at least the part near the parking lot. Pine trees line a strait path giving the impression of a cathedral. From here I never found a trail that connects me back to the start. I have to go the next few miles on the road to get back to my house.