Sur La Plaque!

May 30, 2014

Prologue IV: A Reservoir of Malaria

Mileage: 62
Miles so far: 239

I ate an apple this morning while pedaling down the C&O at 11 or 12 mph. Not really something to call the folks at Guinness about, but it’s encouraging to learn how the bike handles loaded after a few days aboard. I can feel myself getting into a routine — I know the best way to set up and break down camp, what gear lives in which pannier and what goes in the tent at night vs. what stays on the bike.

Quiet and cool in Oldtown, Maryland, this morning –had my rain jacket on in the dry to keep the chill off and saw few souls on the trail.

Today’s big engineering project is the Paw Paw tunnel, at 3,118′ long. Two 3,000+’ tunnels in two days? I lead a charmed life. The tunnel (originally budgeted at $33,500, actual cost: $600,000!) took 14 years to build (1836-1850) using picks, shovels, immigrant labor and black powder and completed the connection from Georgetown to Cumberland. Portions of the canal had been in use 20 years before Paw Paw opened, but the tunnel was a key element in the canal’s battle against rail. Because path designers chose to cut through Sorrel Ridge, much excavation took place in shale seams, leading to frequent collapses. Injury and death were “commonplace,” according to an informational sign. The same sign states that the tunnel used approximately 6 million bricks in its lining. This delay in opening and massive cost overruns helped the locomotive win the path West.

While Big Savage and Paw Paw are about the same length, they’ve totally different feels. Big Savage is paved, tall, almost airy. You can easily ride through two abreast. Paw Paw is dank, drippy and dark. It’s next to the canal and requires you to walk your bike, single file on a path four feet wide, which really does a number on your average speed for the day.

The towpath was extra sloppy on both sides of the tunnel, probably because of underlying rocky geography combined with recent rain. We traded precipitation for mosquitos. Even dosed with 98.25% DEET, I kept my trailside stops to a minimum, shortening my exposure to the ravenous succubi. The abandoned and feral canal is a great incubator with all its standing water.

At Lock 55 I left the towpath for the Western Maryland Rail Trail, a 20ish-mile-long ribbon that runs along old railroad bed and roughly parallels the C&O. It’s blessedly paved and after 3.5 days on gravel, felt nearly orgasmic. I was able to cruise(slightly uphill!) in the mid to upper teens with the same effort that returned 11 or 12 mph on gravel. A change of scenery was also appreciated: pretty western Maryland farmland on display and daytripping locals enjoying the path. Rolling into the Hamlet of Hancock for lunch, I emerged to blue sky and big sun — it turned into a fabulous afternoon.

Spirits buoyed, I hopped back on the towpath at Little Pool and met my Dad at Ft. Fredrick, a pre-Revolutionary installation. We turned the pedals together to tonight’s stop: Lockhouse 49 in Four Locks, an honest-to-God house with four walls, a roof and mattresses. Finished in March 1839, there’s romance in a nearly 200-year-old house full of history. Sitting on the porch, surveying the locks, staring at the Potomac River, you don’t have to imagine too hard to see this place in its heyday.

Cracking into Mrs. Freshley’s for first breakfast.

Hey, there’s water in the canal here! Just outside Oldtown, Maryland. Portions of the canal are regularly watered; others are dry and some vile cesspools of malaria and red-eyed death.

Looking into the Paw Paw’s maw. Even from this view, it’s possible to see the mountain we’re passing through.

A few bricks short of 6 million.

Hard to see, but this survey marker shows where a shaft was sunk from the top down, allowing workers to dig from multiple directions.

Nearly through the Paw Paw.

A libertarian’s worst nightmare. Regardless of your views, having easily accessible water every 5 miles in the middle of the freakin’ woods is fantastic. Some wells tasted sweeter, others high in iron or sulfur.

Right past Lock 49 I ditched the towpath for the Western Maryland Rail Trail, which covers about 20 miles of old rail bed. It’s paved, and you can just make out the towpath toward the middle of the photo. I rode it to Hancock for lunch.

Home for the night. Four walls, a roof and a mattress. Hog heaven.

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May 29, 2014

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.

Crossing the Mason-Dixon Line into Maryland. Subu’s in the yellow rain jacket off to the right.

The coast down from Deal afforded us great views, when not obscured by fog.

Helmsetter’s Horseshoe curve was so steep patrons on either end of the train could see one another while the locomotive negotiated the turn.

Coming into Cumberland, this 1000-foot gap between mountains welcomes you.

Salisbury Viaduct, 1,908′ long, between Garrett and Meyersdale.

Second in my immaturity series, a bench endowed for an upstanding citizen.

Crossing the Eastern Continental Divide in Deal. Here, water is sent to either the Chesapeake Bay or Gulf of Mexico.

Chart showing elevation change at the Eastern Continental Divide. Pittsburgh’s 720′ above, Deal 2,390′, and Cumberland 605′.

Big Savage Tunnel where we spent 3,294′ within a mountain.

The C&O’s 184.5 miles, and starts right here, in Cumberland, Maryland. The other terminus is in Georgetown.

Sample of the towpath. This bit looks pretty good, and I’m pretty sure this is where I just about cried as a 12-year-old, frustrated by the rain and mud in 2000 on my 24″ MTB. Being 12 is hard sometimes. There’s a small Civil War graveyard nearby.

Where I stayed tonight, and an example of signage. Every 5 to 8 miles the park offers a free (one night) hiker/biker camp with picnic table, chemical toilet and iodized well water. It’s great.

Had this beaut all to myself. Water here was high in iron.

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May 28, 2014

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.

All the rain blasted the rivers, but it also swelled local seeps and waterfalls. This is one of dozens I passed today.

In case you ever wondered the GAP looks like, thar she be.

View from the top. The Yough’s blown AUGHT!

The mighty Yough in Ohiopyle, 3/4 view.

Curious mountainside activity.

Pinkerton Tunnel’s currently closed. Somerset Rails-to-Trail’s is working on opening it, with aggressive matching funds. The detour’s much longer than the tunnel’s 849′.

Rockwood has nearly nonexistent cell coverage. Stand here, though, and a repeater will deliver the messages from which you traveled 100 miles to escape.

Husky Haven site. I was one of four folks for the night. Bathhouse and amnesties 6/10ths away over the bridge in Rockwood proper.

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May 27, 2014

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.

Farewell French toast. I’ll miss you, apartment, with all your 1990s amenities.

Bacon!

Downtown from Hotel Metal Bridge. Look closely, you’ll see more bridges. I promise.

Enhance.

First in my immaturity series, Norfolk Southern employees are friskier than we thought.

Yup, we’ve got bald eagles. And we’ve got bald eagle watchers, too, you betcha.

Bicycle/car/train. Three layers of flavor.

Homestead’s Burgatory’s serving shakes and they are GOOD. Glad to have sheltered here during my first storm.

Homestead’s Pump House access. There’s lots of heavy equipment in the area.

Crossing the Youghiogheny.

First of many Youghiogheny crossings.

Pittsburgh and Lake Erie Railroad car. The P&LE was known as the “Little Giant” because it made boku bucks transporting literal tons of goods short distances.

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May 23, 2014

Bike specs, and a first-draft answer to “why?”

Strange things happen when you tell people you’re planning for a tour. Probably it’s partly my fault for saying, “I’m going on a long bike ride,” but what else do you say? When the conversation turns to where/how long/why, the inevitable drift toward the sentiment of how far I’m going/why am I doing this/don’t I have better things to do (read: responsibilities)/where will I sleep/won’t I be killed by bloodthirsty degenerates is a little odd. After all, I haven’t done anything yet. I’ve done a fair bit of plotting, planning and preparation, but haven’t turned a single mile on the TransAm route. It’s pretty much exactly like being congratulated for landing on the moon when you’re in Florida, strapped to a Saturn V on top of 2 million liters of fuel and oxidizer. Yeah, if all goes well it’s going to be a pretty nifty trip, but there’s still 240,000 miles between you and the Sea of Tranquility. I’ve got the Pacific Ocean in my sights, but there’s 4,300-plus miles and a handful of loose dogs separating us. So, feel free to call me Neil.

It’s tough when folks ask “why?” The easy, smart-ass retort is “why not?” Snappy and superficial, while imbuing me an undeserved vagabond aura of spontaneity, this is not wrong — just incomplete. The answer — as best I’ve puzzled it out — is that the whys outweigh the why-nots right now.

To others of you reading who have thought of adventure, just go. Don’t say “someday”. Set a date, make your plans and go. There will always be reasons not to go, but don’t let those reasons rule you. You can overcome them. Everyone should have adventure in their life.

– John Meiners in “Going Across” (An excellent journal on the most excellent CGOAB site)

I don’t have a mortgage. I don’t have a car payment. I don’t have children (AFAIK). I do have a fabulously understanding girlfriend and my health. I left a solid job on good terms in November, and that was the big catalyst. When you read about folks’ extended tours, it’s a fairly bimodal distribution. You have the young (college students, high school/college grads, etc.) and your old (retirees, empty-nesters). Life happens in the middle, and other obligations can pull you away — if you don’t push back.

Here’s the obligatory build-out of the bicycle, for my records and those who are into specs and gear. Packing and equipment lists to come.

Frame and fork: 2010 Surly Cross-Check.

Wheels and tires: 36-hole Velocity Dyads/Tiagra hubs (machine built; stress-relieved), 700x32c Schwalbe Marathon.

Drivetrain: Suntour MTB crank (46/36/24), Ultegra FD, Deore XT RD, SRAM 12-34 cassette, KMC chain, Shimano M520 pedals.

Components: 42 cm FSA Gossamer Ergo bars, Soma brake levers, Dura Ace bar-end shifters, Fizik tape, Chris King headset, adjustable Ritchey stem (Yeah, I know. Shameful.) Thompson seatpost, Selle Anatomica TransAm saddle, Paul Cantilever brakes (front: Neo-Retro, rear: Touring) Kool-Stop Salmon pads.

As I discussed earlier, the bike was an eBay score. It’s sure looks different now.

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May 1, 2014

Reunited, and it feels so good

Katharine dialing in my newly coated CC at Kindred Cycles in the Strip.

As I readied myself to leave the house yesterday morning for work, a quick look at the sky told me I’d stay dry as long as I hustled. Well, I must not have hustled hard enough (sorry, Ace Hood), because I got drenched as soon as I turned off of Negley onto East Liberty Boulevard. For the rest of my commute, I was soaked. And starting your day with soaked clothes and shoes is kind of the worst (no one ever tells you just how heavy wet denim is). And I know, cotton kills. Still standing. Luckily, I work at a brewery with, shall we say, a flexible dress code. My lovely girlfriend delivered dry socks and pants on her way into work, which was a godsend, but I would have done truly heinous things for a bicycle with full fenders. I was on my CAAD5 track bike, which is good — stiff — fun, but not a great rain ride. I’ve been on it for the past week or so as I have my Cross-Check (with fenders!) powder coated and overhauled in preparation for my TransAm trek. Well, I got it back yesterday, and I couldn’t be happier.

During planning for my move to Pittsburgh, I decided I wanted a better city bike. Something that could haul a few groceries, accept fenders and serve as a little bit of an urban-assault machine. At the time, I owned a 2011 CAAD 10-3 and a 2003 CAAD 5 track bike, which, while bitchin’ in their own right, didn’t quite fit the bill. I test rode a Cross-Check at Thick Bikes in Pittsburgh, and enjoyed it. After prowling eBay and Craigslist for a bit, I landed on an older (no low-rider rack fork mounts) black 56 cm Cross-Check that’d been tuned up and turned into a bit of a gravel grinder. It seemed like a great deal, so I put a bid in. It’s been a fun ride around town, but set up a little funky and not quite an ideal touring rig (inasmuch as a Cross-Check can be an ideal touring rig — you can look forward to a post on my existential touring bike crisis before traveling a single loaded mile). I knew I needed to replace the crank with something a little more suitable. It came with an Octalink FSA carbon triple (53/39/30) and my Dad had a NOS Suntour 46/36/24 square taper on hand, which he offered up. So, since I don’t have the tools for those BB standards, and I wanted to change the bike’s color anyway, I jumped on the opportunity to get tuned up. The bike went to Kindred Cycles (complete with CC photo!), a new bike shop in Pittsburgh’s Strip District, opened by Katharine Jordan and Aaron Stein. They did a great job stress relieving and touching up my new machine built wheels, as well as a complete bicycle overhaul/crankset installation. I took the frame and fork to Dylan’s Coatings in Plum, and couldn’t be happier with the work. With extremely competitive pricing and a two-day turnaround, I couldn’t go wrong. Aaron and Katharine said this was one of the cleanest powder coatings they’d seen. Mark at Dylan’s protected all the threads, bosses and faces, so the frame required minimal facing and chasing. I picked it up yesterday, after the rain’d passed, but can’t wait to get some miles on it at this weekend’s NYC Five Boro tour. I’ll put together a future post with the obligatory build out, but for now, I’m happy to be able to put the hammer down in my new 46-tooth big ring. Watch out.

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April 13, 2014

Pipes and coke: Getting in the swing of things

A vestige of U.S. Steel’s Homestead plant.

Today was the first nice weekend Pittsburgh’s seen in quite some time. Spring has sprung; they’re calling for snow Tuesday. Whatever. We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. At any rate, I got a great ride in — one of the first longer treks of the season — a little more than 40 miles out and back from Lawrenceville to just past McKeesport, Pa., where the GAP turns from fabulous asphalt into crushed limestone (acres better than the C&O, especially toward Cumberland). I should be riding my Cross-Check to get some miles on my TransAm bike, but with a day this warm, I couldn’t help myself: I grabbed my CAAD10 and hit the road. I’d been down the GAP before, but never quite this far. Usually my destination is Homestead’s excellent Taqueria, Smoke. Usually with a substantially slower return leg.

The other reason for this trek was to capture enough pictures to put a gallery up here on Sur La Plaque!. So, here’s the first edition. Still working on some formatting, but very happy with PUPS‘ ability to batch upload photos from my iPhone 5S to WP’s servers.

While making an effort to take photographs, I was reminded over and over again about this part of Pennsylvania’s past. Growing up in an anonymously and pleasantly generic Northern Virginia suburb — Fairfax County — I’m still getting used to the heavy industry in Pittsburgh and its surroundings. The photoset reflects that. A favorite shot is the image of smoke stacks juxtaposed with an advertisement for The Waterfront, Homestead’s answer to U.S. Steel’s 1986 closure of the plant (the site of a rather dramatic 1892 labor strike and the source of more than one-third of America’s Steel during WWII). This area is home to a host of big-box stores, a multiplex and restaurants, but, barring the backdrop of the Monongahela River and a few fossilized heavy-metal behemoths, it could be Anywhere, U.S.A.

Usually, rail trails are built on abandoned rail beds, and while that may be the case along portions of the GAP trail, lots of rail line is still currently in use. I saw hundreds of coal and tanker cars along the path, including entertainingly named “Coke Express” units, perhaps bound for Clairton Coke Works, America’s largest coke-producing facility. I didn’t make it quite that far today, but I did spy a U.S. Steel United Tube Company building, which hopefully explains all the pipe stacked along the GAP from Homestead clear into McKeesport.

A vestige of U.S. Steel’s Homestead plant. During WWII, this plant produced more than 1/3 of America’s steel. It’s since shuttered, and the area plays home to a mall. Homestead struggles to find its way in the post-steel world. The banner in front advertises luxury homes and shopping.

View of a Kennywood coaster from the GAP. http://www.kennywood.com

Yep, we’ll be seeing plenty of this today. View from the top of a railroad overpass.

For the history buffs out there, a little background on the industrial powerhouse that was Braddock, Pa.

Stacks on stacks. Pipes on pipes.

Another segment of heavy industry along the Mon … Despite the resemblance, Academy-Award vehicle and Robert DeNiro showpiece The Deer Hunter (directed by Michael Cimino) was set in Clairton, Pa., a few miles down the road.

Partial view of heavy industry along the Monongahela river.

Insert your own ’80s joke here.

The GAP necessarily goes along a tremendous amount of rail. I passed hundreds of coal and tanker cars on my ride.

Ride on the road, not the pipes, please.

Wonder what they make …

All that’s fit to print? Trib Total Media holding in McKeesport.

Seemingly random JFK Statue in McKeesport park, just off the trail. No idea what it was doing there — the inscription just lists the dates of his birth and death, as well as his time as president.

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April 11, 2014

Inspiration, and the stigma of .net

Sur La Plaque! What the heck is that? A Sur La Table dental spin-off? Boo-hiss. No. Actually, according to the self-proclaimed “keepers of the cog,” the Velominati:

S UR LA PLAQUE // French for “Put that thing in the big ring, fucktard.”

(Literally, to move Sur La Plaque means to move onto the plate, or the BIG RING.)

I always found the sadomasochistic aspect of pleasure-is-pain intriguing. Read into that however you will. I’m planning to ride my bike across the country, starting in roughly a month’s time, and decided that I would do the world a great disservice by keeping the experience to myself. Hi, Mom! That means finding a suitable podium on which to stand. WordPress seems to be that upturned fruit box. Because (a) I want to spare you from display ads, dear reader, and (b) ego precludes me from settling for a subdomain, here we be, with a basic membership.

Surlaplaque dot COM would have been perfect: just the right amount of foreign intrigue, topicality and sarcasm, considering I’ll probably be weaving up hills in a 24×34 granny gear, pushing a whopping 19 gear inches.

Alas, try out surlaplaque.com for yourself. An elegant redirect. We’ll settle for .net. It’s like eating at Qdoba when you know there’s a Chipotle around the corner. Let me be your fast-casual Mexican restaurant of last resort.

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