Riding the Allegheny Passage and C&O Canal: The Final Push to Pittsburgh

If you’ve ever wondered how far that bike path goes, last year, Cincinnati Cyclists Marty Sanders and Aaron Kent (AK) set out to cover 700 miles of the Great Allegheny Passage and the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal by bike.  Over the past few years, Marty has become a veteran of these rails to trails trips while Aaron, even though a long time cyclist, was new to the idea of a week-long self-supported adventure.  The story is presented in seven parts.

By Marty Sanders

(Read Part 1 Here) (Read Part 2 Here) (Read Part 3 Here) (Read Part 4 Here) (Read Part 5 Here) (Read Part 6 Here)

Day 7 Cumberland to Pittsburgh

Other than the normal aches that come along with a 550-mile pedal session, I felt great when I woke up.  We were going to have to get off to an early start to make it to Pittsburgh by sundown.  I gave AK another hour before I sounded the trumpet at 6 a.m.

My stomach screamed.  I’ve been constantly hungry from the 2nd day of the trip.  With 140 miles ahead, I planned to destroy the Marriot buffet.  The place was busy already, virtually all cyclists.

We saw my buddy Larry having breakfast.  H told us about his previous day’s ride, a solo 25-hour ride from D.C. to Cumberland.  I put extra point on his man card for that. 

As I talked with Larry, AK got into a conversation with a few ladies sitting at a table just across the way.  They looked to be with a bicycle tour group.  I had no idea what they all were talking about, but it must have been funny as they all were laughing.  I invited Larry to ride with AK and I towards Pittsburgh.  He obliged and I passed on my phone number to call when he was packed and ready.

Even though he spun a mean tale with the ladies, AK wasn’t his normal self this morning.  He only ate fruit, yogurt, and granola while I smashed eggs, bacon, and whatever else I could stack on my plate.  I made a few trips up to the buffet, and stowed a few bagels and cream cheese for later.

Packed and ready, we waited for Larry's call and waited.  Maybe he was waiting out front.  Nope.  “Did he leave without us?” Then I realized, for some crazy reason, I gave him a phone number I hadn’t used in years.  I felt like an ass.  I searched for his number in emails, found it and called him. He was already few miles ahead of us, so we set off as well. 

We caught up with Larry a few minutes later.  He stopped to talk to the father and son team we knew from the overnight at the bunkhouse in Hancock.  Larry joined us and we joked and laughed our way up the climb to the Eastern Continental Divide stopping occasionally for photos.

It didn’t take long to reach Savage Tunnel.  After the tunnel, we hit the continental divide, parked our bikes and snapped more photos.  This was also the point where we said our goodbyes to Larry.  Even though we were riding in the same direction, our pace wasn’t the same.  If AK and I were to make Pittsburgh by dark, we had to push. 

We flew!  I glanced back and thought I saw someone drafting AK.  Was that Larry?  We rode several miles before we hit a small rest stop at an old railroad depot and I got my answer.  It wasn’t Larry, but some guy on a hybrid who had snuck into our slipstream.  As big and bulky as our bikes were, I wondered if he even had to pedal.  

Minutes later, Larry rolled up. He was going to find a post office and mail all his gear back home in order to ride to Pittsburgh with no load.  We said goodbye again.  This time, it was only the two of us.

It was sometime after lunch we rode a long stretch next to a popular rafting area.  We could see big groups of inflatables tied together as well as single canoes.  It looked like lots of fun.  A loud siren tore through the quiet of the afternoon.

An emergency vehicle rolled up behind us and passed.  I’m guessing the siren was for someone in the water who was in distress.  A few minutes later, we came up behind a truck with a flashing light and two people in the back.  We followed the truck about a mile and AK began asking questions. 

The guy flipped his boat and had to swim to shore.  He was ok, but his boat was out there somewhere.  The paramedic on the back asked us if we were racing.  We said “just the sun.  We're trying to get to Pittsburgh by dark.”  So, we did in fact pass an emergency vehicle with a patient in transit.  I felt a bit guilty, but he was ok.

We started passing groups of people heading the other way.  Then a group of ladies zipped past us and I heard one say “oh my goodness, that...” That’s all I heard, but I recognized them.  They were the ladies AK was joking with at breakfast.  They must have been on a bike tour which started with a bus ride out of town and a ride back to Cumberland.

We rolled into Ohiopyle and it was a mob scene, an unbelievable number of bicycles and canoes. We split up.  AK headed over to the same restaurant we ate at a few days ago and ordered us two more Nasty Burgers.  I went to the store for a gallon of water.  When I came out of the store, I almost had a heart attack.  My bike!  It wasn’t there.  Wait, wait…someone must have moved it.  There it is.

AK and I relaxed while we waited for our meals.  As soon as the burgers hit the table, we immediately asked for the check. Those burgers didn’t stand a chance.  With filled bellies we got back to the pedaling.  Pittsburgh by sundown would happen.

As I rolled off a bridge onto the dirt again, my rear tire felt soft.  It had been two days since I aired up my tires with a gauge.  I hit it with a CO2 cartridge and we moved on.  Lots of paintings lined the trail.  Then again, my rear tire went soft.  I wished that my tires could make up their damn minds!

We pulled over at a picnic table.  A sharp rock had worked its way through the rubber.  After riding on these tires for over two years commuting and touring on them, I only had two flats.  I’m guessing the casing of the tire was wearing out. For god sakes I thought, they only have 3500 miles on them! As I changed the flat.  AK watched the rafters unloading and floating downstream.

As we moved through small towns it was amazing the parties that were going on. Two different towns had bands playing music and people everywhere.  We passed at a giant RV party with their own security.  We wanted to stop, to party, but we had to press on.

Despite our good pace, darkness beat us.  We still had 10 miles to ride after the sun went down and switched on the headlights.  After almost 140 miles, with a 75-pound bicycle, I counted each little Pittsburgh riser as a climb.   As we rode into town in the dark, I thought to myself.  “It’s over, back to the real world.”

AK and I rolled up to the Tower where we had parked, I reached over and tagged him!  “Your it!” We had been playing “surprise bike tag” the whole trip.  I sprinted away to the lot entrance, and to the car.  AK was only a second behind. We dismounted and gave a high five.  “Great ride,” AK said.  I agreed.

The whole trip was pretty incredible.  I saw more cyclists than ever before on one trail.  AK and I passed hundreds of riders, some solo, some in groups, and some riding tandems.  The scenery was amazing at times, the whole experience unforgettable.  AK wasted no time and asked, “When we riding the Great Divide?”

Riding the Allegheny Passage and C&O Canal: The Drenching (Part 6 of 7)

If you’ve ever wondered how far that bike path goes, last year, Cincinnati Cyclists Marty Sanders and Aaron Kent (AK) set out to cover 700 miles of the Great Allegheny Passage and the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal by bike.  Over the past few years, Marty has become a veteran of these rails to trails trips while Aaron, even though a long time cyclist, was new to the idea of a week-long self-supported adventure.  The story is presented in seven parts.

By Marty Sanders

(Read Part 1 Here) (Read Part 2 Here) (Read Part 3 Here) (Read Part 4 Here) (Read Part 5 Here)

Day 6 Hancock to Cumberland 

The rain had picked up considerably and woke me early.  At times, the rat-a-tat-tat on the thin roof of the bunkhouse was at times almost deafening.  I couldn’t fall back asleep.  At 5 a.m. I read the news and checked weather on my phone. The forecast didn’t look good.  More storms were predicted after 10 a.m. and the front was coming from the direction we were headed.  I was tempted on wake up AK to get a jump on the weather, but I knew we both needed more rest.  I put my phone down and closed my eyes. 

Something made a loud noise behind the bunk.  I switched my flashlight on only to see a large mouse scurry off with some of AK's food.  I got up.  The mouse even managed to get a nuun container open. I had no coffee, but there were those three beers in the bunkhouse cooler.  Still cold, I normally wouldn’t consider drinking beer at this time of day, but figured what the hell, morning beer.  

As we started getting things in order, the father and son who had shared the bunkhouse with us were getting up.  I remember hearing the father say something like “I've slept better standing up!”

Aaron, the son and bike messenger from Philly mentioned that the Eastern Maryland Rail Trail paralleled the C&O for 20 miles and we were at the 10-mile point.  We basically had a dry, paved warm-up, if we chose.  Aaron and his father were gone before us, hoping to get to Cumberland by day’s end.  

We would soon follow, but needed coffee first.  Krispy Kreme donuts and coffee at the Speedway wasn’t exactly as awesome as I thought.  AK was feeling terrible.  Other than my hands being sore, bruised and cut from yesterday’s wreck, I was OK.  Before we headed out, we went back to the bicycle shop to thank the owner for taking care of us. We offered a tip, but he refused.  So, we bought more stuff. 

The Eastern Maryland Trail head was just outside the bicycle shop and a welcome change.  With a nice wooden rail on one, some sections cut through stone, and a vista of the C&O Canal off to the side, it was an excellent trail. 

Transitioning on to the C&O Trail was simple.  We crossed over a lock.  As we rolled onto the trail, you could tell from the standing water that the rain had come down hard the night before.   Thankfully, there was room to avoid the puddles. 

After 15 miles, we took advantage of a lock.  I leaned my bicycle up against a tree and used the port-o-let.  When I exited, AK was standing on the edge of the canal wall.  “Check out the snake,” he says.  It was thick with a diamond shaped head.  Just as I said, “That snake may be poisonous,” it dove off the wall and into the brush at the base of the wall.  Sometime after the snake we rolled past one of the campsites rest areas.  Aaron and his father had stopped for a break.  I waved and hooted at them.

The rain started to come down.  AK put on his poncho.  I wasn’t cold and knew we were going to get soaked regardless of the jackets.  Then it came down harder.  I tried to persuade AK to stop at a port-o-let for a minute to let it pass, but he wasn’t having that.  It came down in a fury for 5-10 minutes.

During the storm, I became nervous about trees falling on us.  I held AK’s wheel close.  When the storm had finally pushed through, it was still raining some, only more of a sprinkle.  We stopped briefly because AK’s poncho was too hot for him.

We were now riding on mud and crushed gravel with nearly non-stop standing water.  It was a little tricky for our slick tires.  Considering yesterday’s debacle, we erred on the side of caution. 

After 25 miles, we reached Pawpaw Tunnel.  The entrance of the tunnel requires you to ride a section of wooden walkways.  They were wet and I took it super slow to the entrance.  There were people inside the tunnel.  I turned on my light, dismounted and headed into the darkness. We passed a family.  One of the children was scared and wanted to leave.  Out of earshot AK mocked them, “Marty I wanna go home!”  I chuckled. 

On the other side, the rain picked up again.  Remembering my morning weather check, it was going to keep coming down until early evening.

After about 10 miles of riding we stumbled across Christine and Jeff, good customers where I work and super nice people.  They were on their way to a Pig Roast in Pawpaw.  They had seen some of my pictures on Facebook and knew I was out there.  Jeff joked he was waiting for me to come fix his flat tire.  It was great seeing both of them.  We posed for a picture.  They were clean.  AK and I were a muddy mess!

We stopped Cumberland and thought about our next move.  Considering we pedaled for over 25 miles in varying levels of rain and through a few inches of standing water, we wondered if we could now refer to our speed in knots?  I wished we could!  A “knot” is faster than a standard mile per hour.

We decided to pack it in and checked into the Marriott in Cumberland.  We figured we'd get a good dinner, a good night’s sleep and punch out the last 140 miles the next day.  As I walked in, the desk clerk said, “You look terrible, do you need a room?”  I smiled, gave her my card and checked in.  She mentioned there was a bike wash around the building and pointed out the breakfast buffet in the morning.  

In the time it took to get clean and changed, the storm passed.  It was going to be a nice evening, so we headed back to the pizza place we stopped at two days prior.  It was busy and happy hour. We ordered a lot of food: pizza, wings, fries, celery, salad, beer and coffee.  We relaxed while laughing about the wet ride. 

On the way back to the hotel, we ran into the statue of the Boy and Mule.  The Santa-looking gentleman we met a few days ago said it was a mandatory photo op.  I posed with the mule, while I got a shot of AK pretending to choke the boy. 

(to be continued) 

Riding the Allegheny Passage and C&O Canal: The Crash (Part 5 of 7)

If you’ve ever wondered how far that bike path goes, last year, Cincinnati Cyclists Marty Sanders and Aaron Kent (AK) set out to cover 700 miles of the Great Allegheny Passage and the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal by bike.  Over the past few years, Marty has become a veteran of these rails to trails trips while Aaron, even though a long time cyclist, was new to the idea of a week-long self-supported adventure.  The story is presented in seven parts.

By Marty Sanders

(Read Part 1 Here) (Read Part 2 Here) (Read Part 3 Here) (Read Part 4 Here)

Part 5 of Seven-Day 5 Bethesda to Hancock

At 5 a.m. I woke up with that feeling of...where am I?  In pitch blackness, the comforter draped over me must have been five inches thick, and heavy.  It's almost as if the bed didn’t want to let me go.  Pinned to the mattress, it took a moment to gather my thoughts.

I crawled out of bed and started into an extra-long stretch session. It was slow.  I was sore.  I spent 30 minutes doing a few poses to loosen up my lower back, neck, and shoulders. It's amazing what a good stretch can do for an aching body.  After washing up, I felt great.

Sean was starting to make breakfast.  We all sat together at the table for breakfast, and it was a good one!  Fresh fruit smoothies, thick strips of sweet bacon, sausage, eggs and Vegemite, yup. Just like in the Men At Work “Down Under” song.  We all chatted and sipped espresso, except for AK who warmed up coffee from the prior evening.  Ick.

It was unfortunate that we had to go as Aaron’s family made us feel very welcome, but the time had come for us to start our journey back to Pittsburgh.  With hugs and goodbyes, we were rolling again.

On the trail, with ran into other bike travelers.  They had square-ish cat litter buckets as panniers.  We saw it a lot, a trend perhaps.  Some using 5-gallon buckets instead.  It seemed smart and frugal to AK and I.  At the the 12-mile marker, we passed the whiskey drinking hiker we saw the prior day.  On the outskirts of D.C., I gave him a fist pump and yelled, “Great Job!  You’re almost there.”  He smiled.  We rolled on.

You could tell it had rained.  We skirted puddles, yet made great time for the first three hours, covering 45 miles before stopping.  I told AK that it probably be a good idea to back it down a bit.  We had a long day ahead and needed to conserve energy.

BAM!  My rear tire blows out, only a mile after stopping. I wasn’t surprised.  With 3500+ miles on them, this was my first flat, so I guess I was doing ok.  It took a few minutes to repair and we got back to pedaling.  

We started hitting bigger pockets of mud, and standing water.  We were moving fast when we rolled through another puddle which had a large rut/hole at the exit of it.  My front wheel sunk in deep and stuck.  I felt a hard hit to my hands and I was ejected over the front.  AK ran into me and went down as well.  We bounced back up.  Assessing the damage, AK said, “I’m solid.”

Both my hands were bleeding.  I feared the worst, stitches.  I tore chunks of meat out of each hand.  I had a large knob on my knee, a chain ring wound on my calf and a bleeding elbow.  AK broke out the first aid.  I kept alcohol in a nuun tablet container and had an action wipe body towelette.  I cleaned out the wounds, used an antibiotic cream, bandgaged my hands and gingerly put my gloves on.

What about the bikes?  They only sustained minor rack bends.  I had to change the way I held the handlebar to compensate for the loss of skin.  The first few miles were pretty uncomfortable.  After the accident, we rode for another 10 miles before lunch.

We called ahead to the C&O Bicycle shop in Hancock to reserve a few bunks. I was a little apprehensive about making the commitment, due to the wreck and it being 80 miles away.  However, in the end, I agreed it was a good call. 

AK asked the owner if they could have some first aid supplies available.  They obliged.  Just before AK hung up, he asked if it would be any trouble to have a six-pack waiting as well.  He said no problem and that was it.  Great customer service again!  We had just ridden about 50 miles and now have committed to riding 80 more all banged up.  What we would do for a six pack. 

The Ibuprofen kicked in as AK and I got in a good rhythm.  After a few hours, we transitioned out of the mud and standing water and rolled on dry trail.  AK was riding strong.  I I sucked his wheel all afternoon.  We switched the lead when we hit the concrete path along the Potomac River.  

A bald eagle swooped down and started gliding just over top AK and I.  It tried to land on a limb that was too small and immediately dropped and glided over to another.  We guessed it was hunting.

The clouds drizzled a bit of rain on us.  Then the sun popped back out.  On and off, it became a pattern for a while.  About 20 miles after the concrete trail, we stopped in Williamsport to eat.  I took the opportunity to change bandages.  In the triangular shape of Ergon grips, my palms were bruised purple and red.  We chuckled.   

A circus of characters engaged us in conversation.  A couple stopped and questioned us about our trip.  They couldn’t believe the miles.  A homeless guy whom obviously been in the sun too long, was ranting about being hit by a car once.  A big Santa Claus-looking gentleman going into the restaurant told us we need to get our picture taken at the boy and his mule in Cumberland. Apparently it was a custom.  

The deli with the high octane coffee was closed, so AK and I stopped at a little place across the street and ate gyros which were more like steak bits in pita.  We were finally alone long enough to eat.

With 40 miles still to ride and the feeling of darkness approaching, we got a move on.  Another set of rain clouds rolled in.  It sprinkled off and on for an hour or so.  Close to Hancock, the standing water and mud was back.  We turned on the headlights.  As soon as we entered areas where the canopy wasn’t thick, the lights weren’t necessary.  On and off we went, before it flat-out started raining.  It wasn’t a hard downpour, but enough to make us uncomfortable.  Soaked, dirty and frankly, tired of the rain and mud, we hit the marker noting our the 120th mile of the day.  The end was near. 

We reached the Bicycle Shop Bunk House at mile 126.  AK unlocked the gate and we got under shelter.  A wash of relief came over me.  Our bikes and bags were filthy.  We used the bike wash as a shower. 

I unpacked dry clothes and my hammock and took a seat at a table in the bunkhouse.  I found Bactine spray and a box of band-aids, like the owner promised.  Next to it was a cooler, inside a six-pack of Pale Ale on ice.  I smiled. 

I cleaned my wounds and showered.  The shower was a shell of a port-o-let with major upgrades, like a shelf for dry clothes.  It looked a bit questionable from the outside, but once the hot water started flowing, everything changed.  I was feeling good again. 

I sat down, cracked a beer and noticed some bags and items at the far end of the bunkhouse. We would have company.  I sat and listened to the rain hit the roof.  We talked for a few minutes before a vehicle pulled up to the gate and two people clambered out. They made their way into the bunkhouse and one went directly to bed.  The other introduced himself as Aaron, a bicycle messenger from Philadelphia.  He was riding back to Pittsburgh with his father.  We chatted about bicycles for a few minutes before he turned in for the night.  

I sat alone for about an hour listening to the rain.  

(to be continued Monday 1/13)

Riding the Allegheny Passage and C&O Canal (Part 3 of 7)

If you’ve ever wondered how far that bike path goes, last year, Cincinnati Cyclists Marty Sanders and Aaron Kent (AK) set out to cover 700 miles of the Great Allegheny Passage and the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal by bike.  Over the past few years, Marty has become a veteran of these rails to trails trips while Aaron, even though a long time cyclist, was new to the idea of a week-long self-supported adventure.  The story is presented in seven parts.

By Marty Sanders

(Click Here for Part 1)  (Click Here for Part 2) 

Part 3 of Seven

Day 3 Pigman’s Ferry to Harpers Ferry

The next time I opened my eyes the sun was starting to rise.  It was a very nice morning. I made my way up to the trail which was bone dry and smooth.  Perfect spot to get in my morning stretch.  It was amazing the number of deer and rabbits that we encountered. Almost fearless, as they wouldn’t move out of your way and often stayed within arm’s reach. This happened every morning.

Within a few miles of camp, we reached our first lock of the day.  They are numbered and assuming the numbers would count down to 0, we assumed there are 75 locks.  Some are grown over; others still had water flowing through.

After riding for a while we entered The PawPaw Tunnel.  Used for the canal, it also had water in it.  It was dark with a small walkway and wooden railing on one side.  I turned on the headlight.  It took me a second to get used to the confined riding conditions, all the while spooked by the 2x4 railing and the drop into the darkness that awaited the unwary.

SMASH!  I clipped the wall with my handlebar.  Everything came to a halt only 100 feet into the tunnel. Luckily, just a dab.  Even with the light, peripheral vision was limited at best.  Instead of pedaling across the tunnel’s remaining 2800 feet, I ratcheted my cranks back and forth so I could keep momentum and keep my bicycle more balanced.  It seemed like it took forever to get out and on to a wooden walkway that followed the canal through a rocky man-made path.

Before long it was back to what seemed to be our norm: ride 10-15 miles then take a break.  Campsites dotted the trail seemingly every 5-10 miles making it nice to always have somewhere to sit and lean your bicycle.  At one point AK said something about his bike making a noise.  We thought it might be his pedals.

Soon after, we arrived in Hancock, home of the C&O Bicycle Shop, located right on the trail.  I stood outside for a minute before entering and ran into a couple.  The gentleman rode a Rivendell “Bombadel.”  As a huge Tolkien fan and a lover of steel lugged frames, I commented on his bike and he seemed very pleased I could identify it without seeing the head badge.  We talked about the bike and the route ahead, getting a heads-up on some mud along our route.

I said goodbye and went in the bicycle shop where AK was looking at pedals.  We asked the owner if we could use a 12mm allen wrench to see if a crank bolt cap was tight enough.  He kindly helped; and it was indeed loose.  Noise fixed.  We purchased some bars to eat and took his card. He mentioned there was a shelter for ten dollars a night that had hot showers, but that we should call before 6 p.m. if we couldn’t get there in time.  Now that’s customer service. 

We pushed on out of Hancock.  As we made our way out of town, we started passing small groups of riders heading the opposite direction and the same.  One group was at least 20 deep.  Goofing around, I tried to get creative by saying hello to all of them personally.  It got a few smiles.  At one point, a rider asked as we were passing them, where you going?  I said Washington. DC.  AK was riding away from me at this point. So I told her to have a nice day and then sped off to catch AK.  I teased him about not being very social.

We rolled for a few hours before hitting a major climb leading up into Williamsport.  Our reward for reaching the top was The Desert Rose Cafe.  With large tables outside, it was very inviting.  We hadn’t eaten real food all day.  We both ordered some wraps and coffee and kicked back.

Within a few minutes of being seated, a woman looked around the corner.  All of a sudden AK was Mr. Social.  It was the couple we passed on the trail I had teased him about.  I walked in the deli to pay and order a to-go for us.  When I came back out they were all laughing.  AK invited them to eat with us.

Albert and Kelly had had rode the GAP and C&O before and were telling us about all the cool places along the way we missed.  We could have had pizza in Pawpaw!  After eating our wraps and veggies, it was going on 4 p.m. and we still had some miles to cover.  We said our goodbyes to our new friends and pushed on.

From Williamsport, AK set a great pace, obviously coffee induced.  We came to a concrete section of bicycle path that hung on the edge of the Potomac River shoreline with a literal drop to the water with no railing.  It went on for miles and was absolutely beautiful!  

We continued on into the dark, running headlights for about an hour before we made it to Harpers Ferry.  During this time, it seemed my headlamp was attracting every bug within three miles.  Bats swooped down in front of our faces snatching bugs. It made our night ride a little more exciting.

At the Harpers Ferry Bridge, we had to take our bikes up a 3-story spiral staircase.  Easy for your typical road bikes, but considering our bikes weighed about 75 bulky cumbersome pounds, it was not fun and kind of eerie at night. 

We rolled around in an equally dark town and found nothing, except for a mob of people standing outside a dark building listening to a man speaking.  We steered clear.  Soon we ran into some teenagers and they helped direct us to an Econolodge a mile away.  The kids also told us the pack of people were on a ghost tour of Harpers Ferry.  The eeriness kinda made sense now.

(to be continued)

"One Ride of a Lifetime" by Marty Sanders

The alarm rang at five in the morning.  I sipped my coffee.  It sank in.  I have to ride to West Virginia today.  I said goodbye to my cat, locked up, and looked at my watch.  6:49am.  Already 49 minutes behind schedule, with the turn of the key in the front door, Marty Sanders left Cincinnati on a bike trip to Northern Virginia to help his sister move.  4 days.  527 miles.  This is his story.

Story By Marty Sanders (edited by Joe Bellante)

Through high school and early adulthood, I called Northern Virginia home for 12 years.  My sister and I stayed behind as the rest of our family moved back to Cincinnati.  At one point or another, my Father made me an offer to make the move and join him in the Queen City.  He helped me out and BAM.  Here I am in the land of 3-way cheese coneys. 

As for my sister, my Father extended a similar offer, but pursuing a career working for the government, she wasn’t ready.  I missed her and for many years tried to persuade her to return.  17 years later, I got the call. 

With a job offer from a good firm in Cincinnati, she was ready and asked me if I’d be willing to drive a U-Haul for her.  No problem.  She set a date for the move, September 21^st.   I immediately thought, “I’m going to ride my bicycle to Virginia.”

As most of my friends know, I’ve been nursing a shoulder injury, not racing, training for fun, and trying to get back to riding long distances pain free.  Despite the shoulder, when Prudence asked me to drive the truck, I was all in.  I started training a bit more: climbing stairs, running, and feeling pretty good.  The day after she called, I started making plans and put together a list.

1-Build racks.

2-Assemble gear.

3-Figure out route. 

A Welcome Stop

My Salsa El Mariachi was the bike of choice, super comfortable and very trustworthy.  It took me a few weeks to dial in the racks.  I increased my spinning, riding distances and acclimated to the extra heft of a big load.  

I’d cross the Appalachian Mountains.  To simulate the effort, I did hill repeats on Cincinnati’s Sycamore Street and one of my other local favorites, I refer to as “storm peats”.  I figured I’d be good.  I love to climb.

I’ve never toured or bike packed before so I attempted to pack for every unseen scenario: rain, low temperatures, camping, etc.  This was an entirely new experience.  

In the end my plan was simple.  Follow Route 50 East from Cincinnati to Fairfax Virginia, hang a right on Ox Road and finish by raising a pint glass of beer in Occoquan.  Specifically, I’d ride from Cincinnati to Parkersburg West Virginia (227+ miles) the first day and from Parkersburg to Augusta via the Northbend Rail Trail (200 miles) the second day.  On the third and toughest day, I’d pedal from Augusta to Occoquan/Lakeridge (100miles).  3 days.  527 miles.

I figured 15 hours a day with a comfortable average of 13mph would be sufficient.  In case of weather or mechanicals, I cooked up a contingency plan allowing 2 extra days if need be.  As a fail safe, my brother and sister’s boyfriend were going to make the drive from Cincinnati a few days later, which would allow me to be picked up in case of disaster or worse, giving up. 

Two weeks prior to the ride, my sister called telling me a local paper (Old Bridge Observer) was interested in doing a piece.  I agreed to an interview and had a 20 minute conversation about my thoughts before the trip.  They also chatted with my sister and used it for the article, a front page story.  Now, before even clipping in, it’s public.  People are watching.  There was no turning back. 

I was nervous.  As I honed my training, ate like a horse and mentally prepared, the days leading up to the departure flew by.  Still, I felt like a child standing in line to ride a rollercoaster for the first time, only this child was the front page story of the Old Bridge Observer. 

I gained six pounds preparing for the trip, although I really couldn’t see it.  I assumed it was in my legs as I’ve been riding up Sycamore and Mt. Storm for a month with a 75lb bicycle.  The last few days, I took it easy.  On the eve of the trip, I had a big Indian dinner with a few friends and family.  Maybe I had a beer too many, as I got to bed late. 

The alarm rang at five in the morning.  I sipped my coffee.  It sank in.  I have to ride to West Virginia today.  I wrestled with anxiety and nervously quadruple checked everything.  I said goodbye to my cat, locked up, and looked at my watch, 6:49am, already 49 minutes behind schedule. 

Another Beautiful Vista

Cincinnati to Athens

As I meandered my way through Mariemont and out the suburbs of Cincinnati using my old commuting route, every turn of the pedals quelled my anxiety.  I picked up the Little Miami Scenic Trail at Bass Island in Newtown.  It was quiet, relaxing.  I thought to myself, it’s another bike ride.  No pressure.  Keep pedaling.  All will be good.   

I left the trail at Milford for the road.  The town was setting up for an event, everyone was full of smiles.   I was greeted by some “good mornings”.   To keep the good vibe going as I turned toward rural Ohio, I popped in one ear bud and hit shuffle.  I pedaled, jammed and enjoyed my moving picture soundtrack all the way to Hillsboro.

Along the way, I stopped at rest areas scattered along Route 50 in Ohio. They aren’t much, a shelter and porta-poddy, but perfectly spaced every 30 miles.  I found great appreciation for them. 

A group of motorcycles rumbled past.  When I hit the next small town, I’d catch them.  We leap-frogged each other.  They revved their engines.  Brrrrappabababapp.  Those bad boys were LOUD!   Assuming it was a sign of respect, they gave me plenty of room as the passed. 

Following the signs for Route 50, all went well until Chillicothe at the intersection of Route 50 and Highway 23.  Beyond that, cars came less frequently.  Hills started coming quicker.  Worried, I turned on the Garmin.

“Acquiring Satellites.”

I ditched technology for good old local knowledge.  I spun down a long gravel driveway and asked a couple drinking Busch Light if this was Route 50.  Nope.  I had inadvertently misread the signs and traveled 10 miles out of my way on Highway 23.  Thankfully, they offered a short cut back over to 50.  As good as the beer looked, I held back the urge to ask for one, turned and waved a thank you. 

As the sunlight started to fade, I picked up the pace. Approaching Athens, the traffic increased exponentially.  For safety, I moved to the shoulder.  Despite the trash, tires, debris and very deep rumble strips, it was the lesser of two dangers. 

A blood red sunset greeted me in Athens for a dinner stop.  Buffalo or BW3, I’m not sure what it was.  I had a seat in the window and ate a burger with an eye on my bike.  Energetic Ashley took my order.  She inquired about my ride and told me a wonderful horror story of hitting a deer and tires on Route 50.  Thanks for the positive vibe! 

Now dark, I pushed through the last 40 miles to Parkersburg.  Trucks flew by.  I cringed as I heard tires gargle on the rumble strips behind me.  Despite 3 tail lights and 2 visible reflectors, I nervously rode back to the edge of Athens and booked a room at the Super 8. 

A first floor disabled equipped room allowed space to spread out with all my gear.  I showered, downed a protein shake, pop- tarts, two ibuprofen, and I was out. 

170 miles.

Athens to Bridgeport

Waffles, I love waffles!  I woke up on Sunday morning feeling remarkably good at breakfast.  Still, checking out of the hotel, a drape of anxiety fell over me.  It disappeared quickly as the first song hit my ear from my mp3 player.  Very much like the road leading into Athens, the tightness in my shoulder opened up a bit too.  At ease with a wide shoulder on the road, I made such good time into Parkersburg, WV I missed a planned stop in Belpre. 

I crossed into West Virginia over a big bridge and was abruptly greeted with a huge climb.  I huffed over looking forward toward the relative ease Northbend Rail Trail, a 70 mile smooth and flat railroad path featuring eleven tunnels and numerous bridges.  I only had to find the trail head.

In the area where I thought it was, I asked a few locals at a gas station if they’d heard of it.  No one knew.  So I popped in the police station.  A young lady working pointed out, like all things in West Virginia, it was right around the corner. 

Huge homes, ponds, stables, and pretty gardens lined the road leading to the trailhead.  Amazingly beautiful, but oddly out of place for the rural area I was in.  Then, there it was, in the middle of all rich scenery, the Northbend Rail Trail. 

My Salsa ate up the wide double track goodness.  12 miles clicked off in no time.  Off the road and out of traffic, I was rolling pretty quickly.  I guess I was a bit excited because I didn’t see the long black snake stretched across the trail till I was right on top of him.  Sorry Mr. Snake.  I thought about stopping, but not knowing if it was poisonous or not made the decision easy.  Then came the tunnels.

Dark Tunnel on the Northbend Trail

I’m glad I had lights or I’d have been in trouble.   A few tunnels were so long the darkness hid the exit.  Others were short enough to be lit end to end.  At times in the tunnels, I had to ride close to the wall to get the reflection to cast on the floor.  I experienced a bit of vertigo in one, as if the floor was coming out from under me.  I hit something.  My arms shook. My bike rattled.  I kept it upright.  I couldn’t see, but I’m guessing I ran over a large stone which had fallen from the ceiling.  I suspect that’s where I lost my rain jacket and a shoe cover. 

Northbend’s bridges took me high above creeks and the path wound past remnants of towns, sometimes directly through backyards.  At one point, I rode around a parked car on the trail.  40 miles in, it got a bit rougher. 

Double track turned to single, then thick grass.  Obviously, this deep in West Virginia, the trail sees few riders.  30 miles later, I suspected I had hit the terminus in Clarksburg.  A guy walking near the trail asked where I was headed.  “Clarksburg,” I replied.  “You’ve got about 15-20 miles to go,” he answered.  I swear the maps showed the rail trail ending here, but obviously it appeared to continue on.  What a mess it turned out to be. 

Soon enough, the path deteriorated into a four wheeler trail.  While the first 70 miles were dusty and dry, this was pocked with mud holes.  After 2 miles splashing through mud holes on a 75 pound bike, I bailed for the lesser of two evils, a steep road with 3 nasty switchbacks.  Eventually, it intersected Route 50. 

Smooth pavement was a relief.  I rolled straight through Clarksburg past Grafton, then the town of Bridgeport.  With an hour of daylight left, I coasted down a big hill through and out of town.  Right back up I went.  Thirsty, I reached the top of the climb and pulled over.  I grabbed my bottles from my rear rack to switch them for the spent bottles on the bike frame.  All empty.  I forgot water.

Back to Bridgeport I pedaled, back up that hill, back to the start of town.  Rather than filling up, with a warm cozy Travel Lodge in sight, I pulled the plug for the day, an easy decision after more than 130 miles.  I settled in with an entire large pizza, some crazy good feta spinach bread, and drank 2 beers.  The next day would be the toughest. 

300 Miles.

Double Track of Northbend Trail

Bridgeport to Romney

The 300 mile weekend aside, I felt pretty good for a Monday.  I slathered thick cream cheese on my bagel.  Bruegger’s doesn’t lay on the cream cheese like I did.  I drank all the coffee in the pot packing up. It was going to be tough.  A few minutes past 8 a.m., I was ready to roll! 

Sunny with lingering clouds, it was great weather for climbing.  I switched on the music.  Up and down small hills, the soundtrack lasted three hours before the batteries went dry.  Then the grade kicked up, 3 miles at nine percent. 

Have you ever climbed for 3 miles?  Most of my friends would answer “Yup, piece of cake.”  On a 75 pound bike?  For those that have toured on a bike, I give mad respect and props to you. 

On a rig like this, you can’t simply power up climbs.  With panniers, stuffed bags, a mini-bike shop of tools, four full bottles, it’s about spinning easy gears.  Otherwise your knees and Achilles tendon suffer, 300 miles from home.   The long steep climbs continued all day.  The weight and the distance took their toll. 

I remember at one point seeing the sign for the turn to Elkins.  I thought I could call Uncle Andy and roll on down to visit.  I resisted the urge.  75 miles in, I was getting tired.  My knees and Achilles ached.  I gave in.

I found a section of gravel trail which led back off the road.  I rolled back, sat in the dirt and stretched.  I stoked the engine with a big apple I had stashed in my bag from the hotel buffet.  It was just what I needed and I got back to it. 

Now at the base of a seemingly endless climb that offered little shoulder, I rode the white line, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 miles at nine percent.  45 minutes later I crested and was rewarded with the sight of the downhill warning sign for trucks.  “Steep Grade Next 5 Miles.” 

While my legs got a break, my hands and upper body went to work.  Riding down a mountain with gear is tiring as well.  Braking becomes hard work.   Becoming all over body fatigued, the wind was leaving my sail. 

Thankfully, I was welcomed with flatter roads in the valley.  However, with ten miles to Romney, now on the other side of the mountain, the weather changed.  It began to rain, not a down pour, but steady enough to get me good and soaked.  Despite being a warm rain, when I hit Romney I pulled the plug.

After 10 hours, 107 miles, 9,355 feet of elevation gain with 75lbs of gear, I can’t muster the brain strength to break out my Martmatic skills and impress you with algebraic equations of caloric expenditures and watts generated.  Basically, Marty=CRUSHED! 

At the base of the mountain, I checked into a hotel, ordered another large pizza, and lethargy turned to deep sleep. 

407 Miles.                                                                                                                                                               

Coming To A Bike Shop Near You

Romney WV to Winchester VA

I awoke before sunrise to the sound of wet tires rolling on asphalt.  I lay in bed simply listening to the light taps of rain on the window and the occasional wet whoosh of a truck.  I turned on The Weather Channel to see what was up.  Wow.  Crap weather. That’s what was up.  While only light rain fell outside my hotel window, the area was expecting off and on down pours all day.  In the home stretch and determined to finish the ride today, I decided to suit up and try and beat the nasty stuff.  It was 4 a.m.

Two days ago, with the bump in the tunnel I had lost my rain jacket and a shoe cover.  I had to get creative and improvise.  In my pack I had zip lock bags, 2 small garbage bags, and a limited length of duct tape.  I sealed my helmet with the zip lock.  Garbage bags became socks/shoe covers.  With the remaining zip lock parts, I tried fashioning under-jersey shoulder covers, but it was useless.  Head and feet covered, I pulled out of Romney on a mission. 

In the dark, in the rain, the last day started with a three mile climb.  The sun rose.  Not that I actually saw it, but it was up none the less.  I remember looking down to discover my pannier was open.  I pulled over to zip it closed and realized my kick stand had been down since I left town.  Silly me.  I got a good laugh and continued. 

The first 10 miles of the ride was all climbs, long, slow, granny gear, 75 pound bike, feet covered in garbage bags slow climbs.  My plan of leaving early and beating the heavy stuff failed.  Now it came down hard, real hard!  There was nowhere to hide. 

I figured the smart thing was to keep my head and core warm.  I rode hunched over breathing through my nose to limit moisture intake.  Knowing that digestion of food will elevate body temperature (thanks to Survivorman Les Shroud), I ate a granola bar.  After an hour in the pounding rain, my shoulder started aching, a deep ache in the area I injured. 

Not really having a place to stop and not wanting to get sick from standing around getting cold, I pressed on…for two more hours.  It was like the storm was above me the entire ride teasing me with brief periods of light rain which goaded me to continue forward.  Standing water collected on the road blurring my view. 

I saw the “Welcome to Winchester, Virginia” sign and felt relieved I was rolling into a town that could offer shelter from this madness.  I passed on the photo op. 

Whoa!  A few miles from town I hit a set of railroad tracks that almost took me out.  I’ve ridden tracks 100’s of times and never had this happen.  The weight in the front wheel was the difference.  I wrestled to keep the bike up without wrecking!  I was a lucky man.    

Pounded by rain for three solid hours, the last few miles into Winchester dragged on.  I was soaked, pruning, and my shoulder…ugh.  When I saw the IHOP sign, it wasn’t a hard decision.  All-You-Can-Eat pancakes and whip cream, “That should make me feel better!” 

Outside under the awning, I shook off the rain and checked the radar on my phone.  There would be no respite.  “Grrrr.  I’m 1.5 hours drive from my goal.”  I sat down on the bench and thought about what I had just done.  

This decision wasn’t easy for me to make.  I always try to finish what I start.  I’m very goal oriented.  Not making this one bothered me.  This entire ride was full of decisions.  Now I made another.  This is no race.  I’ve ridden 500 miles.  I’m in Virginia.  I’m tired, aching, and frankly my ass hurts!  I called my sister and asked, or more like told her to come get me.  “I’m at the Winchester IHOP on Route 50.  You can’t miss me.”

Who would have guessed there were 2 IHOPS in Winchester on Route 50!  Sorry Sis. 

In comfort, I warmed up and stuffed my face.  They didn’t have the All-You-Can-Eat option, but I won’t hold it against them.  I took a few Ibuprofens and drank coffee.  My shoulder began to feel better.  All in all, life was good today. 

I’m very thankful for my life in general.  Experience is what life’s about and I added a major one.  Even without riding the last 60 miles, I retained my sense of accomplishment.  I had a great trip, by no means easy.  Looking back, the lack of shoulder and speeding traffic jostled my nerves.  Slow down people!  What are you in such a hurry for? 

Ultimately, we live and then we die.  It’s the cycle of life.  Our job is to experience as much of life as we can before we reach the end.  That is the goal I’ve set.  I believe it’s in my genes.  It’s what drives me to do what I do. 

So…what’s next?