Sur La Plaque!

Bicycles, beer and other self-indulgent ruminations.

Category: GAP

Prologue III: There Will Be Mud

Mileage: 63.5
Miles so far: 176

It was a night of light rain and heavy rail — the denizens of Rockwood are saints for putting up with all the traffic. But it was a day full of adventure: the GAP saves its most interesting marvels for the final 25 miles.

Leaving Rockwood behind, I started a slow climb toward Deal, and though I wrote about that last night tongue-in-cheek — after all, what’s 564′ over 15 miles — I was dragging a little this morning right out of the gate. Did pass though two impressive viaducts that allowed trains to cross over valleys and/or water, the Salisbury at 1,908′ long, and the Keystone at 909′.

I stopped in Meyersdale Station (maple syrup capital of the commonwealth!) for lunch and a little shopping. While I failed to locate any light oil or chain lube — the rain and grit have been doing a number on mechanicals — I did find my first honey buns of the trip. God bless corn subsidies, because these little morsels of HFCS work out to 1260 calories/dollar, and I bet there are better deals waiting for me. I also bought some “real” food.

Suitably hopped up on sugar, it was about 10 miles to Deal in light rain. There, you pass though the Eastern Continental Divide, which divvies water into either the Chesapeake Bay or the Gulf of Mexico.

The climb to Deal was well worth it: in addition to having gravity on my side to Cumberland, the views were spectacular and I picked up a great companion in Subu, a fellow Pittsburgher riding a blaze orange Salsa scandium softtail MTB to Washington and staying in hotels or B&Bs along the way. We rode together as far as Cumberland and conversation made the miles fly by. (OK, maybe the 1,785′ descent helped. A little.)

We left the rain behind for 3,294′ traversing the Big Savage tunnel. The hits just kept coming, like the tail end of an Independence Day firework display. With Big Savage still in our rearview (purely a figure of speech, I don’t have one of those little clip-on mirrors. You’ve got to draw the line somewhere.), we crossed the Mason-Dixon Line into Maryland. Much more romantic than the placard you blast by on I-70, the diagonal demarcation’s made of stone and a nearby plaque tells the story of wealthy British colonialists Penn and Calvert, who disagreed about land ownership, with each claiming some of what the other felt was his territory. So, they hired Mason and Dixon to hand down a verdict — thus the Mason-Dixon Line. Somewhat amusingly, the Revolutionary War started not soon after and both the Penns and Calverts lost their land to the freshly minted US of A.

Just past Frostburg, the GAP’s concurrent with the Western Scenic Railroad to Cumberland. No tourist trains today, but Helmsetter’s Horseshoe Curve caught our eye. It hosts a bend so tight passengers on both ends could see each other as the train negotiated the turn.

In Cumberland I said goodbye to Subu, who was calling it a day. I bought chain lube at a bike shop and set off down the towpath, wanting to get at least a few miles in, considering the weather. While the GAP is crushed limestone and well drained, the C&O is pea gravel, tree roots and mud (dirt if you’re lucky and it’s dry). The GAP’s also newer and in generally better condition. Almost immediately there was copious evidence of heavy rain: ruts, mud wallows and deep puddles. While I would have enjoyed Subu’s wide tires and suspension, my fenders did a decent job of keeping me clean and dry.

Not too far down the towpath a construction crew was hard at work replacing an aging culvert that the last rain had pushed over the edge. I  pulled off to the side as a crane lumbered past.

My overnight halt is Pigmans Ferry, a hiker-biker site at mile marker 169. It’s all mine tonight. Well, me, the bullfrogs and mosquitos. If the trail’s not too mucky and slow tomorrow I’m aiming for Williamsport, where my parents coincidently booked a lock house for the weekend. Hopefully they brought beer.

Prologue II: The Yough’s Blown Aught

Mileage: 70
Miles so far: 113

A gladiator walks into a bar, holds up two fingers, and says, “I’ll have five beers.”

*Rome(?)shot*

This being the preface to a TransAm journal, in great literary tradition we’ll use Roman numerals for the stuff at the beginning that everyone flips past.

Wow, last night was wet — really glad I pitched my tent on a well-drained gravel pad. I woke up this morning with a fresh moat fortifying the castle.

I like my morning coffee. I’ll admit it, I’m weak. At home I use a scale, French press and tea kettle (I know). But nuts to hauling all that rigamarole across the country when science has the answer: INSTANT COFFEE. Terrible idea that it was, I brought Trader Joe’s instant along — someone told me it was pretty good, and its own label makes the bold Columbian insinuation that you may not notice the difference. Now, I’m no instant-coffee connoisseur, so it may very well be the best, in the same way that Holiday Inn has beat-all-comers powdered eggs. This shakedown is already paying dividends. Diatribe over. Back to bikes, or whatever we were talking about.

On the trail today I pedaled a few miles with an older married couple from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, who were doing an out-and-back between Cumberland and Pittsburgh. They (Kevin — didn’t get his wife’s name) do a ton of touring, so he gave me some nice TransAm tips. We also talked all about robber barons, the genesis of Amish and Mennonites from the Anabaptist movement, Native American burial rites (and rights), and, of course, cycling. Heady conversation for instant coffee, but I was delighted to listen, and for the company. We separated in Connellsville, but not before they pointed out a few old coke ovens to me. Kevin said there were once thousands in the area, back when Connellsville was the coke capital of the world under mega-baron Henry Frick. The ovens are now in disrepair, but during the depression, people who had lost their homes would shelter within.

I decided against calling it a day in Ohiopyle. The rain quit (spoiler: a brief respite) and my legs still felt good. I did stop for lunch and a break, though. Good opportunity to finish drying yesterday’s laundry and air out the tent I packed up wet. Ohiopyle is home to fewer than 100 people, but sees more than a million visitors each year: kayakers, rafters, park and Frank Lloyd Wright Fallingwater patrons, plus GAP traffic and fishing folk who come to plumb the Youghiogheny. No slammin’ trout for at least a few days with all this rain; the river’s high, muddy and scary fast. In exchange, the precipitation brought out and bulked up a ton of waterfalls, rivulets and cascades along the path, providing a cold patch as you roll along.

I saw my first tunnel today in Markleton, but it’s closed. Pinkerton tunnel, at 849 fest, is the shortest on the GAP, and the Somerset rails-to-trails group is raising funds for its repair. Every dollar donated is matched by $17 of someone else’s. Pretty good deal, if you ask me. Until then, there’s a detour — considerably longer than 849 feet.

Home tonight is Husky Haven in Rockwood (MM 45). The private campground is on the trail, with guest house, bath house and lots of extras across Casselman river in town, about half a mile away. A deal at $10, this will probably be the nicest campground I’ll be in between Pittsburgh and D.C. Hopefully it’s restorative, because tomorrow I get to climb to Deal, 2,390 feet above sea level and the GAP’s highest point, before coasting into Cumberland, a more earthly 605 feet above sea level.

 

Prologue I: Blastoff

Mileage: 43
Miles so far: 43

Today was the day — time to leave on this trek. Had a very nice — small — Memorial Day cookout (as required by law: blame the charcoal lobby) with Sara, Christine and Christov. Lots of good food. Was important to spend time with folks before heading off — solo — for most of the summer. It’s going to be lonely sometimes, so might as well stockpile some camaraderie, right? Had a great French toast breakfast (La Gourmadine!) with Sara, then said goodbye as she went to work. That was hard. I’m excited for the trip, and I know she’s excited for me (and to have some time and space to herself), but it’s still a long time to be apart. Hopefully we can orchestrate a visit somewhere along the way.

Took me a while to get moving –there are lots of odds and ends to deal with when leaving your home for the better part of three months, but I finally schlepped my stuff (and there’s too much of it) down around 11:15 a.m. and took off — had to stop by the post office and drug store for ear plugs and M&Ms to complete my monster trail mix (read: candy/oat)bag.

The GAP/C&O trip serves as a shakedown for my TransAm tour. I hope to answer (a) do I really want to ride my bike this much, (b) what do I desperately need and not have, and (c) what deadweight did I pack? Plus, I have to get to Virginia somehow, right?

The GAP starts in Point State Park, where the Allegheny and Monoagahela rivers form the Ohio. I left from Lawrenceville and enjoyed a few looks from folks in the Strip District and downtown as a heavily loaded bicycle rolled down Penn Avenue toward the Jail Trail (more correctly the Eliza Furnace Trail). From there, over the Hot Metal Bridge (obligatory photo: hey, it’s no. 10 on the list of official photo ops, per the official trail map and guide.) and on to the GAP.

Note to self: this bike handles way differently loaded. I know I’ll get used to it, and ditch some gear and figure out the best way to pack everything. But still. Whoa. Curious how a purpose-built tourer would go down the road and react to inputs.

The first half of today’s ride was ground I’ve covered before — the roughly 20 miles to McKeesport — the second 23 were new. Another now thing: Homestead’s Burgatory’s open! Blatant promotion aside, I did go in, I did have a tremendous coffee-donut milkshake, and it may have been divine intervention. Not five minutes after I sidled up to the bar, formerly sunny skies opened up. Luck? Either way, I soaked up the A/C and let the storm pass. I would be chasing rain the rest of the day.

Past Boston, the clouds grew dark, with thunder, lightning and the pregnant still right before A Big One hits. I took shelter at Dravo Cemetery for an hour or so under a very generous pavilion. I met a guy from Youngstown, Ohio, who started in D.C. and was finishing his tour in Pittsburgh today. He said the canal wasn’t it great shape. Yikes. The canal is always rougher than the GAP, and all this rain won’t help. Its bumps and ruts ought to serve as a torture test for my wheels — if I don’t lose a spoke, I oughta be OK on paved roads.

He also mentioned staying at Ohiopyle State Park over Memorial Day and that — at $21 and a tough uphill from the trail — at steep and steeper, not really worthwhile. I’d planned on staying there tomorrow. We’ll have to see.

I also had a chance to catch up with a twosome I met at the Hot Metal Bridge. Brother/sister team from Chicago and L.A., respectively, they’re headed to Washington, too, but plan to call Connellsville home for the evening, about 20 miles farther than I’m going, so I may not see them again.

My camp tonight is in Cedar Creek Park, and it’s mostly all mine. Big and free for trail users, I found flush toilets, electricity and cell service. Living large. Finishing this up from my tent — it’s storming something fierce outside, but I’m dry so far. Service is spotty, so I may have to post tomorrow. No worries about CSX trains keeping me up tonight — that’s the thunder and lightening’s job. Hope I don’t float away. Life is good.