Riding the Allegheny Passage and C&O Canal (Part 4 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)

Part 4 of Seven-Day 4 Harpers Ferry to Bethesda/D.C.

The alarm went off at 5am.  I laid for an hour before getting up.  The Econolodge breakfast was typical: biscuits and gravy, waffles, sausage and eggs.  I snuck some bagels and cream cheese in my bag for a late morning snack. 

By 9am we were back to that bridge and the steps.  At the bottom, a train screamed by and was swallowed up by the mountain.  As the the final car entered the Harper’s Ferry tunnel, the noise almost instantly disappeared.

The day was going to be a long one, 120 miles to D.C.  Like the days before, we continued using the markers as reference points to stop and refuel, every 15 or so.

About 45 miles in, we decided to break out the bagels. This was AK's first meal, as his stomach had been upset after eating Econo-sausage.  

The closer we got to D.C. the more picturesque the Potomac River grew, with large rocks and rapids.  The animal life was abundant, and we were literally surrounded by beauty.

Maybe it was the waffles.  It felt as if we were fueled on adrenalin all day.  We made it to the outskirts of D.C. in no time.  With 25 miles to go, we stopped for water at a campground.  While filling our bottles, a hiker strolled in.  He said he met a group touring that had shared their whiskey with him, then passed out during a rainstorm and got soaked through.  It showed in his water logged pack.  We wished him best and moved on.

I mentioned to AK that I wanted to stop at Great Falls along the way. I’d been to Great Falls many times as a teenager, but never on the Maryland side. As we got closer to the Falls, it brought back memories of climbing the rocks and going for hikes.  The area gets a lot of tourists as the locks were very well kept.  A few have been restored and were offering boat rides. The employees wear historic attire and use a large mule to pull the boat.  At Great Falls overlook, you can see the VA on the other side.  I smiled.  With abounding vistas, it was a great part of the trail to ride. 

5 miles from the White House, we rolled into Bethesda at about 4 p.m and stopped at a bridge crossing the trail.  AK made contact with his sister whom was going to put us up for the night.  We were trying to put together the last piece of the trail to connect to her neighborhood. This is where it got fun.  We should have just rolled down to marker 1 where the Capital Crescent Trail intersects the C&O (I did not know this at the time). AK and I both thought she lived off the C&O trail.

We asked a few people for directions.  Only a few miles from her home, but it didn’t seem simple.  We spoke to a young lady who said that the bridge behind us went up into Bethesda.  With a ridiculous slope, the bridge offered a plank to roll your bicycle up.  I struggled.  It was so archaic, but considering bridges I’ve ridden in the past with missing planks or lengthwise cracks, it could’ve been worse.

After the bridge, we hit a dirt trail cut into the hillside, with switchbacks. More hike-a -bike.  We asked a guy on the climb for directions who obviously wasn’t the right guy to ask for directions.  He said to follow this path to a spiral of concrete going up to a bridge that crossed George Washington Parkway, turn right at a road, ride to a stop sign and turn left, look for a gap in the trees and you should see the Capital Crescent trail below. 

Figures he was right.  Once on the Capital trail, we rolled into the heart of Bethesda. The place had grown a bit since I'd been there last.

We rolled into AK’s sister’s driveway. It was good timing as the family rolled up behind us.  This was my first time meeting his sister Rachael, Sean, her husband and his two nieces: Claire, and Ila. They also had a newborn Patrick.  Almost immediately I picked up on Uncle Aaron's very fitting nickname: Inappropriate Uncle Aaron.  Sean offered me a beer from his beer of the month club.  I said yes and he produced two bottles of beer that had little round skulls on it.  It was very tasty!

As I cleaned the bikes, Inappropriate Uncle Aaron had a soccer match going with his niece Claire.  I went to the fridge for a 2^nd beer and realized Sean had set out six beers, all different.  Fat Tire Amber would be next. As I closed the fridge, I began to read a set of House Rules they had hand written and all signed, sort of a Washington D.C. household constitution.  

At dinner, Sean and Rachael fixed little calzones. Each was filled with different things and had three different dipping sauces.  We helped clean up after dinner and went to bed.  We're halfway there.

(to be continued)

Death’s Door to Door

The shipwrecked remains of the J.E. Gilmore, the A.P. Nichols, and the Forest lay in the chilly waters below the chugging diesel propellers of our ferry.  This is Death’s Door, the historic passage between Lake Michigan and Green Bay where the lives of many a Great Lakes sailor were dashed across the rocks.  That’s the Deadliest Catch version.  In reality, with today’s summery blue sky, calm seas and temperatures in the lower 80’s it’s as harmless as a hot tub.  A couple we talked with compared this vacation fishing hamlet to Maine.  However, Maine has lobsters and corn, Door County (the thumb of Wisconsin that juts into Lake Michigan) has perch and everything that can possibly be baked, stirred or stuffed with famous Door County cherries.  In winter, the same gales and ice capped waves that claimed the Edmund Fitzgerald still challenge the heartiest great lake sailor.  Today, the only thing that might kill me is the sound of the screaming kids two benches behind us on the ferry.

“Should we take the ferry to the island?”  The answer to this question while planning a bike ride, no matter the body of water or the ferry, should always be an unequivocal yes, even if you’d like to throw a few brats overboard. We rode 10 miles of skinny cherry tree back roads from Sister Bay to the Northport Ferry dock.  If you’d like to duplicate this ride, look at a map.  There’s only one way to get to the ferry without riding on Highway 42.  I think I looked at the map four times the whole day. 

As we rolled down Cottage Street near Gills Rock with sneak peeks of Death’s Door between the million dollar lake houses, I asked “You know what’s wrong with this ride?”  “Not a GD thing,” my wife replied with a quirky smile.  Sort of an inside joke, it’s a favorite exchange between us and a few friends when bike rides are perfect.  The ferry to Washington Island takes credit cards and about a half hour to cross Death’s Door.  Till now, I had no idea where the name Door County came from.  Obviously someone was bright enough not to call this beautiful peninsula Death’s Door County.

As the ferry reversed the engines to line up the gate with the dock, Washington Harbor came into view with brightly painted boat houses and work sheds dotting the shoreline.  In architecture, this is still a fishing village.  Bikes are first to roll off.  Hundreds of butterflies danced on the bushes outside the Visitors Center.  Are you kidding me?  We planned a circumnavigation of the island which featured a 10-12 mile route past the house with the Catfish sculpture and up to Jacksonport, which had equally beautiful views of Rock Island, a state park which doesn’t allow any vehicles, not even bikes.  Nearly 45 minutes passed before we saw a single car or another soul.  After snapping a few photos from the Jacksonport pier, we headed the 10 miles or so toward the shops and restaurants on Main Street.  On the way, and on foot, we climbed the 200 slippery algae covered steps of the Mountain Park fire tower for a 360 view of the island.  The brochure said 184 steps.  I counted 200 even.  Maybe my cycling shoes threw me off.  We grabbed a delicious deli lunch at the Danish Mill before taking the ferry back to the mainland and another 10 miles back to Sister Bay.

Even on high end race bikes and only a 45 or so mile pancake flat ride, it still took us more than six hours door to door.  When you knock on Death’s Door there’s no reason to push the pace.