Not every story in the valley belongs to an inn or a life. A mansion above the river. A summer home where working girls took their two weeks by the creek, and the two sisters who ran it. An album of plants pressed from these hills. And a hotel at the mouth of the creek — older than the inns, and never one of them.
Those stories live here — the places and wonders of the Wissahickon that fit nowhere else. Each name below opens its own page.