It’s About the Journey

CHARLES TOWN, WV

Day 3 of Bike Virginia and I didn’t know what the day would hold. And that was part of the fun. I had seen my friend, Vince Amodeo, and had texted my friend, John Dockins, but had not yet seen him.

Tents at the Middle School
Flowing Springs Rd in the background

I rolled out and over to the Bike Virginia campus. I thought I’d meet my cousin, Kay Walborn, but she wasn’t out and on the road yet when I rolled out. So I took off by myself.

Riders turning off Flowing Springs Road

On the road I teamed up with some riders and ended up having a slow day – truly enjoying the journey, as I like to say. The first rest stop, after a harrowing ride on U.S. 11 going to Williamsport, Maryland, was at the Williamsport United Methodist Church. Most rest stops had the same water and Gatorade, fruit and snacks. I suspect Bike Virginia buys the food and the rest stop simply provides the space and volunteers.

Outside the church they had a “blessing of the bikes.” I skipped it since I had already been hit. Inside the church they served noodle soup, fried potatoes, and hot donuts, in addition to the normal fare. Bike Virginia also sponsored a contest for best rest area and this one got my vote. Extra points for not subjecting us to live bluegrass music too.*

Part of the journey was swimming in the Potomac River, although my participation was limited to wading. I didn’t want a squishy butt full of river water in my shorts.

But a number of people did.

Some of these roads were new to me and some weren’t. But most were new to the riders around me and they loved the road in Antietam National Battlefield. Perfect asphalt and no traffic. Nice.

We rode through the park then stopped for a photo op.

Antietam Battlefield

Actually, I was waiting for the all clear sign so that I could absolutely bomb the descent. I put my gear in the big ring and pedaled hard and got in my tuck. It felt like 50 mph. I looked down and my Garmin was — off.

Oh well. I will have to come back on my own and try that one again. The road is perfect – smooth pavement, no traffic, straight as an arrow down then rises on the other side. No turns.

After lunch in Sharpsburg, those cyclists “in the know” went back to Nutters for ice cream. It was an excellent way to finish.

At the end of the day I turned a planned 57-mile ride into a 73-mile ride but didn’t feel like stretching it beyond that.

_________
*EPILOGUE – This rest stop did win best rest stop award. Noodle soup, hot fried potatoes, and freshly cooked donuts in addition to the blessing of the bikes. Wonderful job!

Cramptown Races

THURMONT, MARYLAND

This has become one of my favorite rides. After almost a week of being off the bike due to all the rain from Tropical Storm Lee, it was a gorgeous day for a Century Ride (100 miles).

Right from the start the road turns up with a seven-mile climb through Catoctin Mountain Park. Even riding at a comfortable pace I passed three riders in short order. Then a woman wearing a jersey from the Baltimore Bicycling Club just blew by me. Funny how these things work. Even if I thought about “grabbing her wheel” (following her) my body couldn’t respond. Anyhow, I was here to ride comfortably. (Plus it may would have been a bit creepy.)

Near the top, my friend Mariette Vanderzon and her fiancee, Rick, came flying by me but I was soon able to latch onto their wheels. And in short order, we soon caught and passed BBC girl and never saw her again the rest of the day. Funny how these things work out.

I was riding with Rick and Mariette, and the hill where I could hit 50 mph snuck up on me. Being in a group, and not recognizing where I was, I simply got in a tuck and didn’t pedal. Although I hit 47 mph I was majorly disappointed that I didn’t hit 50. I even thought about turning around and trying the hill again.

We were riding along at a comfortable pace when two guys passed us. Oh boy. I saw Mariette go and catch their wheels and then Rick followed. I couldn’t. But I could watch this play out 100-200 meters ahead of me. There were the three or four of them. Then another rise in the hill and there was Mariette off by herself. Most surprising to me was on the climb to the rest stop at South Mountain I caught and passed both of those guys. I wanted to say to them “you shouldn’t have pissed her off.”

I was refueling at the rest stop at South Mountain when Mariette and Rick left. I never saw them the rest of the day.

It was a strange day. Except for the brief interlude when I rode with Mariette and Rick, I never connected with anyone. Just a solo ride. I didn’t even find a pace line to jump into except for one brief one going into Gettysburg.


The route was from Thurmont to South Mountain to Antietam National Park. Then it followed South Mountain to Blue Ridge Summit, Pa., and then to Gettysburg National Park. Once through the park, it was 20 miles back to Thurmont. It was a peaceful ride from South Mountain to Antietam and from Antietam to the rest stop at Mt. Aetna.

After the Mt. Atena rest stop, I pushed off on my own, again, looking forward to or dreading the climb over the mountain near Fort Ritchie. Not sure if this is still South Mountain or not. I was entrenched at my own pace and wasn’t about to join any group. Unless I had good reason.

Mt. Aetna Rest Stop. Three of the Four on-course rest
stops for the century ride were at firehouses.

One group passed me but as the road turned up, I passed them, not to see them again. Except for the day that I abandoned my climb to the Col du Galibier, I don’t usually make wise decisions when I’m on my bike. Today would be another unwise one. I was cramping. Big time. Sometimes as the pedals moved there would be a sharp pain in the hamstring. Or quadriceps. Or calf. Yet I had lower gears to use and I wasn’t using them.

Last year when I rode here I wasn’t conscious of it at the time but realized at some point on the ride I never used my small front ring. So a goal for today was not to use the small front ring. Stupid.

I turned onto the climb on Ritchie Road and started passing riders. The easy ones were the ones walking their bikes but I passed a number that was still pedaling.

It should be noted these climbs are not the length of the Tourmalet (12 miles) or the steepness of Mt Washington (12%). I can do this. Even while cramping.

I descended to Fort Ricthie and rode ahead to Blue Ridge Summit, Pa.  There I stopped for a picture of my bike in front of the Mason-Dixie marker.

While I was stopped, four riders flew by – two couples, and then I saw MY JERSEY! My Alpe d’Huez jersey of which I am so proud. Of which there isn’t another one in the U.S. (or so I thought).

When I bought my jersey on Alpe d’Huez, the Australian shop
owner assured me that I would be the only rider in the U.S.
to have one of these. This is so embarrassing.
So good looking we posed twice for photos

I immediately caught up to them and heard someone ask me if I rode Alpe d’Huez. Of course, I rode it. I never got a name but the one couple had just been on Trek Travel’s Classic Climbs of the Alps and of course, rode up the famous climb We rode together for the next seven miles to the rest stop at Fairfield. Then we mugged for the camera never to be seen again.

Note to the yellow jackets at Fairfield: Seen you two years in a row now. Please don’t come back.

From Fairfield, I was off again, alone, when I had to stop at a stop sign. That allowed a small group of three to catch me. I gave them the clear sign so they didn’t stop. At first, I was going to let them ride ahead but then decided to catch a ride. I linked up and sat in. There was a huge guy pulling and two smaller guys following. I assumed they had been working together but it became apparent that the two guys were simply wheel suckers. I sort of felt dirty being one myself although I’m not sure what work I could have contributed since I was cramping. I sat in for two and a half miles until reaching the battlefield in Gettysburg.

I stopped, took a few pictures, then rode off again. I was hurting and may have been tempted to jump in a SAG vehicle had they offered one so close to the end. I didn’t.

Riding through the Battlefield at Gettysburg is a surreal experience. I felt transported back to the Civil War. One could feel them singing the Cramptown Races. Doo-dah.

Lone rider through GNP

I arrived back at the start/finish and saw the line for Antietam Dairy ice cream to be too long. That was the best part of the ride. Got to my van. Stopped. Started to lift my leg over the cross tube and then let out a yell. Damn cramps.


Civil War Century

THURMONT, MD

It was 48 degrees when Ernie Rodriguez and I rolled through Frederick, Maryland on our way to Thurmont for the start of the Civil War Century. The big question was arm warmers or no arm warmers. Ultimately I decided no warmers and it was a good decision. The temperature climbed into the high 70s and it was one less thing to carry, and potentially lose along the way.

Ernie Climbing South Mountain

The ride began with a seven mile climb through Cunningham Falls State Park in the Catoctin Mountains. This is where Camp David, the presidential retreat is located, although we did not pass the secret Campground Number 3 (shhh!). And that was followed by a 14 mile descent and then some “rollers” before the mile and a quarter climb up to the South Mountain Battlefield site.

South Mountain Battlefield Site

On the descent I picked up enough speed that I looked down and saw my speedometer go over 50 mph. Only once before had I pushed it to 50 and I was so concentrating on pedaling or holding on, or both, that only when I checked my max speed later did I see it go over 50. Today I looked at the speedometer while it was occurring. It hit 51.9 (52 mph!). Awesome. Nothing, not even a flat tire, could ruin this day.

Max Speed: 51.9 mph

After a short break, enough to use the porta-johns and refill our bottles, we headed off to Sharpsburg, the site of the Antietam National Battlefield. Then it was on to Boonesboro and Smithsburg.


While on Rte 64 in Smithsburg, I ran over something that wasn’t good. Ernie thought it may have been a cable of sorts but it sounded like a baseball card was in my spokes for 30 seconds or so then it freed itself. But about 60 seconds later I flatted. It was the first flat I have had in more than two years and probably 6,000 miles of riding.

Still not sure what occurred. When I got home there wasn’t a puncture in the tube. But the valve wasn’t functioning properly. Whether that cable somehow hit the valve, I don’t know, but it was shortly after I picked up the road debris that I flatted.

Ernie fixing my flat

Ernie used his hand pump to fill up the tire. After a repair I always worry that there’s a piece of glass embedded in the tire which will cause another flat. And I feel like I am riding on a flat.

Ritchie Road

I felt sluggish on the 4 1/2 mile climb up Ritchie Road. It was the high point of the ride and the beginning of a 40 mile downhill or flat ride back to Thurmont. But I was afraid to let the bike roll on the descent.

Rest Stop, Fairfield, Pa

When we reached the rest stop at Fairfield, Pa., I immediately went to the repair tent for a floor pump. Tire pressure was 62 psi. I normally ride about 100-110 psi. Once I fully inflated the tire I never thought about it again.

Fairfield Inn. One of six inns in continuous service since the 1700s.

At Gettysburg, we were reminded at every intersection to ride single file. We did.


We rode through the Battlefield. What an impressive site seeing all the monuments lining the roads.

The run in back to Thurmont was basically flat. We passed through the Roddy Road covered bridge. It was the second covered bridge we had on the route.

Roddy Road Covered Bridge

Back at Thurmont they had ice cream and sandwiches.

 Sean Walker and girlfriend

It was a GREAT day in the saddle.

Garmin Maps and Stats (on Ride with GPS.com)

104 miles and 7,000 or 9,000 feet of climbing. Who knows for sure? But 52 MPH! Sweet!!!!!

Ernie wearing his changing skirt

Washington DC to Pittsburgh – Day 2

SHEPHERDSTOWN, WV
 
Andrew and I finally fell asleep and the trains seemed to quit their operations when we were awakened by a severe thunderstorm. It lasted for more than one hour and at times was quite close. The tent held up great and we didn’t get wet. But after the storm and we got back to sleep, another storm hit. And so it went.


Finally, we fell asleep again but by 6:30 a.m. we were up and ready. If we weren’t, the trains next door made us ready to go. We tried to air out the tent and carefully packed everything we needed for the day. Our supply of plastic garbage bags came in handy and we wrapped everything in plastic knowing that the trail ahead would be muddy.

We began the day like we ended the night before — at Mommers Diner in Brunswick, Md.. Once we left Brunswick we headed up the canal towards Harpers Ferry. We were only on the path for a few miles, dodging as many puddles as we could — some we couldn’t — when we came upon a tree across our path. It was felled from a fresh lightning strike from the storm earlier in the morning. We couldn’t move the whole tree but we could move enough to make one lane passable.

Just a few miles further we could see a group of about 40 cyclists stopped ahead. They were men and women, I would guess in their 40s through 70s. They all wore t-shirts with a Biking West Virginia logo. Some of the men were moving a large tree from their path. I told them one mile down the road they had another job to do since they had all the manpower.

During much of this stretch, we were separated from the river by a forest. But as we rode ahead we got closer to the river and eventually could hear the river. We were very near Harpers Ferry. The path was in much better shape. In fact, the two-track trail we had been riding on gave way to a crushed stone path the entire width. It was clear this was a high use tourist area.

When Andrew and I got to Harpers Ferry we stopped on the Maryland (canal) side and decided not to cross the river. To do so would mean carrying our bikes up a high steps on the railroad bridge then walking our bikes across. We could have locked up all our equipment and walked across but didn’t want to do that. We did walk up onto the bridge and took some photos of where the Shenandoah River flowed into the Potomac. But we got back on the bikes and began thinking of our lunch stop.

The next few miles were perhaps the prettiest on the canal. The path is wide and was in good shape. You are next to the river, so close at times that a wrong turn could end up with you in the drink. The C&O towpath tends to be flat as the canal is flat. The canal has 75 locks from D.C. to Cumberland which means as you travel west each time you come to a lock there may be a 50-yard stretch where the canal rises. But basically it is a flat ride and this ride was one of the flattest and nicest.

We stopped briefly to watch a young fawn beside the river. We were about 10 feet high in the path and the fawn seemed to be lost. I can’t imagine that its mother was far behind but we never saw one.

Further up the towpath, we came to a parking area for river fun. We briefly passed the parking lot and I called upon Andrew to stop and come back. It appeared that an outfitter company had just finished giving instructions to a few adults and a bunch of 10-year-olds for their rafting trip on the Potomac. They were just starting to portage their rafts to the river’s edge across the towpath. I asked for their help and when Andrew came back and joined us, perhaps 20 little kids sang Happy Birthday to him. I had felt bad that today was his 13th birthday and there was no one to sing to him. Now I got him.

At milepost 70 (the campground in Brunswick, where we spent the night before was milepost 54) we were talking about getting lunch in Shepherdstown. That was three miles ahead then up a very steep hill to the bridge that crosses Maryland into West Virginia.

We came upon the Antietam Aqueduct. This was just downriver from the infamous Civil War Battle where more men were killed than any other battle. The creek is said to have run red with all the blood on September 17, 1862. We approached the aqueduct and needed to dismount and walk across the structure. Or at least we thought we did.

THE ACCIDENT (THE FALL OF ANDREW)

Andrew had been wearing and practicing his cleats and pedals more than me. Still, one doesn’t stop quick in the shoes — it is best to see what’s up ahead and undo the shoes ahead of time. Plus mine were new while he had bought some used cleats from a friend and were a little more difficult.

We were almost to the stone pathway that crosses the aqueduct. The path was narrow at this point. A fall to the right meant falling down a hill into the canal (not watered). I was on Andrew’s left coming to a stop and dismount. He was beside me and said, “I can’t get out” (of the cleats).

Andrew’s bike stopped and he fell over onto me. I fell too, and we both dusted ourselves off to continue. We had no injuries – just a little dirt and grass on us. I had to upright my bike and the Bob trailer while Andrew started walking ahead with his bike. I started to roll my bike and noticed something wrong. The rear wheel was bent (taco’d in cycling terms). It was a freak accident and I don’t think it would have occurred without a trailer, but with my weight falling over and the Bob hooked securely to the rear axle, I was pulling the wheel in one direction and the Bob was holding it down. The wheel was bent and there was no way out.

When I saw this I was very disappointed. Not upset or mad, just disappointed. I told Andrew that we were done. But then I remembered the bike shop in Shepherdstown the girls in Brunswick whom we had met yesterday, had told us about. I and thought that perhaps I could buy a new wheel and continue. I removed the rear wheel from my bike and carried it on Andrew’s bike. I left him at the aqueduct, with a full supply of Gatorade. It was 11:20 a.m.

I told Andrew that I wouldn’t be back until at least 1:00 p.m. I rode as fast as I could up the muddy path to the road to Shepherdstown. Once in Shepherdstown, I couldn’t find a bike shop. After asking a few locals, I realized that the girls had actually gone to a general store which merely supplied them with the right hardware and helped them fix their bikes. Shepherdstown did have a store at one point, but no longer.

Now at 12:30 p.m., I decided that my biggest concern was getting Andrew and our equipment off the towpath. I walked into the Shepherdstown police department and told them I needed to get my son off the towpath. Even though that was out of their jurisdiction, it was in another state in fact, they were more than willing to help.

A policewoman got in her car and drove me back to the towpath. We were lucky in that from the Antietam aqueduct up to Shepherdstown a river road paralleled the towpath. We drove right to the aqueduct. We arrived at 1:00 p.m. We carried our equipment (I left Andrew’s bike at the police station) to the car and Stacy then took us to Martinsburg, West Virginia to a bike shop.

It was in Martinsburg, and through a couple of calls to The Bike Lane in Burke, Va., that I learned the truth about bikes. Many things can be fixed and we had all the right tools, but if a rear-wheel needs replaced that is a major undertaking. I had thought that I could buy a new wheel and keep going. But every bike is different and those rear cassettes all seem to be different brands.

Actually, major stores probably would have replacement wheels and my cassette could be moved to a new wheel but this store was too small to carry extra wheels in stock. I was told by the Martinsburg bike store that he could get me a wheel by Tuesday.

Well, a big part of the trip was also getting Andrew to Pittsburgh to go out west with my parents and we wouldn’t have time to continue beginning Tuesday. Our policeman friend took us back to Shepherdstown and we spent the night at the Days Inn. We returned home on Saturday.

When you set out to accomplish something and you don’t do it, there is a real sense of disappointment. For a day and a half it was a perfect world — just pedaling the cares away, enjoying the scenery, and occasionally meeting some nutty people just like you (always going the other direction since the ones in your direction are going about the same speed).

I hope to have my bike fixed by Monday or Tuesday then will DRIVE Andrew to Somerset to meet my parents.


EDIT/EPILOGUE – For a day and a half it really was the perfect time. Just a dad and his son, or a boy and his dad, pedaling away, making progress. A freak mechanical accident stopped this trip. Two years later I had a chance to make this trip again and asked Andrew if he wanted to come with me. Then 15, he just gave me the teenage stare.

Andrew upgraded his Wal-Mart bike to a Trek MTB and we continued to ride some rail trails, including much of the Great Allegheny Passage in Pa. But he never showed any interest in attempting the Pittsburgh-DC trip again.

 
 

Verified by MonsterInsights