Joseph Brosky retired on May 31, 2017. Exactly one year later, his wife Donna followed suit. The very next day — June 1, 2018 — the couple found themselves at Laurel Hill State Park, one of their longtime favorite places in the Laurel Highlands. It was familiar terrain, perfect for easing into their first day of “freedom as a couple.”
Inside the park gift shop, they spotted a slim green booklet: the Pennsylvania State Parks and State Forests Passport, published by the Pennsylvania Parks and Forests Foundation. “Collect stamps as you go,” it suggested.
They bought it on a whim.
“It was like the universe handed us a calling card,” Joe recalls. “That was the moment. We bought the book, set a goal, and jumped into this new chapter headfirst.”
Or, as he puts it in his book, “Adventures in Penn’s Woods,” “We came face to face with kismet.”
That impulse buy would launch a five-year journey to all 124 state parks and 20 state forests in Pennsylvania, one forest loop and jaw-dropping overlook at a time.
Map courtesy of the Pennsylvania Parks & Forests Foundation. Find an interactive version from the PA State Department of Conservation and Natural Resources.
What followed was more than a retirement goal. It was a way to chart the end of one life chapter and the bravely start another.
The passport that changed everything
Joe grew up in Ross Township near Perrysville and was born at Allegheny General in 1952. After 45 years of work — including 20 with the Department of Justice, which he joined at 45 — Joe finished his federal career as a Cell Lead for the Field Intelligence Support Team-Central. He and Donna now live full-time on Laurel Hill Mountain just outside Ligonier.
The couple has always been outdoorsy. They’ve biked the Great Allegheny Passage, hiked the TMB (Tour of Mont Blanc) trail in Europe, which involved hiking from France to Italy to Switzerland and back to France. They’ve even crossed the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim.
Decades of hiking, biking, kayaking and geocaching has kept them constantly moving. Even then, nothing about the state park quest was premeditated. “We were already the kind of couple who liked being outside, who hiked and biked and paddled,” Joe says. “But this goal gave us direction and joy, structure and silliness.”
Balanced Rock at Trough Creek State Park near Raystown Lake in Huntingdon County. Photo courtesy of Joseph Brosky.
Buying that passport was the line in the sand. “It was our way of drawing a line through our work experiences,” Joe says, “and metaphorically holding hands and jumping feet first into a new existence punctuated by all the magic the natural environment has to offer.”
They kicked things off by hiking a newly added section of Laurel Hill State Park. “It had this gorgeous viewing tower we’d never been to, even though it’s one of our ‘home parks,’” he says. “That tower really set the tone. It reminded us there’s always something new to discover, even close to home.”
There was never a question of whether they’d finish. “We were committed from day one,” Joe says. “At one point, we even promised each other: If one of us passed before the end, the other would carry it through.” Their motivations were many, and in his book, Joe details all the systems — funny, practical, heartfelt — that kept them going.
Kooser State Park in Somerset, September 2022. Photo courtesy of Joseph Brosky.
Awe, sweat and turkey vultures
Over the course of five years, the Broskys visited parks in every corner of the Commonwealth. Joe is quick to say the journey wasn’t all waterfalls and peaceful overlooks. “Oh, we got our butts handed to us a few times,” he says.
They were walloped by heat and humidity on the Spike Buck Hollow Trail at Little Pine — a brutal, grinding hike that pushed even these seasoned trekkers to their limit. The worst they’ve ever endured? A 2005 scorcher through the Havasupai Indian Reservation near the Grand Canyon, where heatstroke felt just a few miles away.
They got (hilariously) lost in Bald Eagle State Forest, following a hand-drawn map from “some old guy” they met in a parking lot, an adventure that involved a totaled motorcycle, a CR-V with “pinstripes” from tree branches, and lunch beside a white-knuckle drop-off. “We looked like minnows caught in a trap,” Joe says.
But for every logistical disaster, there were dozens of magical moments.
Donna Brosky near the Frances Slocum Lake at Frances Slocum State Park in Kingston Township, Luzerne County, in August 2022. Photo courtesy of Joseph Brosky.
Like the time at Ralph Stover State Park, watching turkey vultures ride thermals and land in the trees at eye level. “We were mesmerized. Within a few feet of us, they spread their massive wings to soak up the sun. It was awe-inspiring.”
Or their 42nd wedding anniversary on Flat Rock in Colonel Denning State Park, where the trail magically cleared for a 30-minute window of solitude. “We shared gifts and lunch and took a photo that became the cover of Donna’s state park photo book. Everything just lined up. I think about that day every anniversary.”
Joe admits he thought he knew what he was signing up for: sweeping views, mountain lakes, the chirp of warblers and the crunch of leaves. “I expected the beauty,” he says. “But I didn’t expect to stumble into so much history.”
He points to parks like Caledonia, once the site of Congressman Thaddeus Stevens’ ironworks and a stop on the Underground Railroad. And Fort Washington, where Washington’s Continental Army held its ground against British troops. “I thought parks like Buchanan’s Birthplace and Washington Crossing would scratch the history itch. But it turned out nearly every park had something to teach us.”
A book for the grandkids (and the old kids, too!)
In 2023, they arrived at Point State Park, back in Pittsburgh, for their final stamp. Their full-circle moment.
The Broskys at the Point in Point State Park in May 2023. Photo courtesy of Joseph Brosky.
Encouraged by Donna, Joe began putting pen to paper.
“Adventures in Penn’s Woods,” released in March 2025, is part trail journal, part how-to guide, and part love letter to aging boldly.
He relied on Donna’s five hand-bound photo books, his daily journals and his memory. “Photos are like portals,” he says. “Thanks to Donna’s photos, I was time traveling the whole time I wrote.”
The cover image? Their granddaughter Sophia, sprinting down a forest path. “It’s whimsical,” he says. “It tells adults to loosen up and run free like a kid, and it tells parents to let the kids play in the mud, wade in some streams and watch as they fall in love with the outdoors.”
Cupa Joe with Joe: where virtual hikes build real friendships
Joe’s adventures weren’t limited to the woods. In 2020, grounded by the pandemic, he began logging onto the Virtual Senior Academy hosted by the Jewish Community Center in Pittsburgh. What started as a participant spot in “Coffee Connect” quickly turned into his own program: Cupa Joe with Joe.
Every other Thursday morning, he leads virtual hikes using Donna’s photos — everything from trailhead to tree bark to the sandwich they packed for lunch. “It’s funny how something so small can feel so big,” he says. “We’ve built a real community there.”
Attendees tune in from Pittsburgh and beyond, some from as far as Wisconsin and Maryland. “We’ve grieved together, celebrated together, even visited museums together when we could meet in person,” Joe says. “This little Zoom window turned into a lifeline.”
He hopes it shows others that adventure is still possible, even with mobility challenges or limited access to the outdoors. “PBS nature docs, a terrarium, a Zoom hike, it all counts,” he says. “You don’t have to scale mountains. You just have to stay curious.”
Joseph Brosky at Colton Point State Park in Wellsboro, April 2021. Photo courtesy of Brosky.
What’s next?
These days, Joe and Donna are casually visiting America’s national parks with their daughter and grandchildren, “not as a quest, just a lifestyle.”
He’s also digging into his Polish roots. “All four of my grandparents came over before Poland was Poland again,” he says. “I’ve just begun this quest, and I’m looking forward to all the wonderful surprises I find.”
Ask Joe what he wants people to take away from his story, and he doesn’t miss a beat.
“I want people to understand: retirement isn’t the end of the road,” he says. “It’s just the trailhead to something new. You just have to be willing to lace up your boots and take the first step.”
Most of all, he hopes his grandkids will read his book as teenagers, and again with their own children. “I want them to see that ‘old farts’ like me can still bring it,” he says. “Age is just a number, not a speed limit.”