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A story of a hike of three friend to blue ridge mountain in lancaster pennsylvania

With community and alumni support, the Conservancy has obtained through purchase or donation another additional 300 acres. For the MNC board, our community volunteers, friends, and supporters of Mt. Nittany, this will never be. Our mission will continue to be the preservation of Mt.

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Nittany for future generations of Centre Countians, Penn Staters and other lovers of the outdoors. We know for example that the gypsy moth will be back to threaten the Mountain someday.

We plan to be here when they do return. It measures only 2,077 feet above sea level, or 1,050 feet above the valley floor — hardly a Himalaya, by any standards.

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But Mount Nittany looms regally over Penn State by making up in tradition and familiarity what it lacks in geological fact. The piece starts out exploring one of the legends surrounding the Indian maid Nitta-nee. With only hours left to save the Mountain, the men bought the upper two-thirds of Mt. Nittany and its place in all our hearts. This Indian girl was born on the banks of the lovely Juniata. It was in the early days of the world. It was therefore in the age of great and wonderful things.

During the early life of Nita-nee a great war was waged for the possession of the Juniata Valley.

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The aggressors were Indians from the South. Though they found themselves in beautiful valleys.

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The father of Nita-nee. He took up his residence on a broad plain, not far from where State College now stands, and should be the Indian patron of that growing institution, instead of Chief Bald Eagle, who never lived near there and whose good deeds are far outweighed by his crimes. The Legend of the Valley Long, bright, ribbon of gold, blending, graying, into the deep blue of a twilight sky, set atop of a mountain line, rugged irregular ; the breath of a night wind, soft, uncertain, rustling faintly across the broad expanse of tree tops ; a thread of shining white in the valley just below her, all this Nittany saw and was thankful.

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Many were the moons and long, since her warrior went out to battle. Many were the flocks of wild geese that had flown northward and southward above her, and still, he had not returned. Manitou, Manitou the Mighty, was cruel, and yet-the south wind grew bolder and kissed her brown cheek, withered now and old ; the dying light in the west lingered on her face, kindled answering lights in her eyes,- another day was gone.

Nittany taken from spot where Colleg Ave.