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Abandoned Turnpike

BREEZEWOOD, PENNSYLVANIA

I told the 4K for Cancer Team Portland team that I would probably meet them on the abandoned Pennsylvania Turnpike. I think I told them that.

I drove to Bedford then biked on US 30 to Breezewood. I did this, in part, to see if it was scarier than hell. It wasn’t although getting through Breezewood was no treat. Curb to curb and uphill, I chose to go in and out of service stations and then wait for traffic to break before riding on ahead.

The western entrance to Pike 2 Bike is just over the first rise on US 30. There is a small sign marking the entrance and a trail that leads to the turnpike.

Western (Breezewood) entrance to Pike 2 Bike
Right up that dirt path

Once on the turnpike one is on 50 year-old (at least) pavement. It’s all ridable but some sections are better than others. I came to the first tunnel and felt the cold air coming from the entrance about 100 yards away. Once I entered I thought my headlight wasn’t bright enough. And it is spooky in there if not downright scary.

 

I thought any moment I would meet the 4K as I was running late. I came to the second tunnel and still no signs of the 4K. This tunnel was much longer than the first. It took a while to be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel (literal).

 

At the end of the tunnel and still no 4K, I went to the end of the turnpike. Nothing. This was my first time at the western end. There are no signs or markings to show where this begins. Just a driveway. Actually, 100 yards away is a driveway with a sign stating private but that trail is 100 yards away.

Western Entrance to Private Drive
Actual entrance which looks similar is 100 yards south

I tried to call Mary Natoli, a rider on the 2013 ride and alum who helped this group on Sunday, to see if she had anyone’s contact information. Getting no answer, I started to look up the 4K office to see if they had contact info when the 4K van pulled up followed seconds later by 3-4, then 7-8, then 15-18 riders.

Source: Joanna Wang
Runfastandeatlots.blogspot.com

I asked them how their ride had been and they said very hard. They had been on miles of gravel and I asked who’s cue sheet did they use. One they made. Oh kids, don’t deviate from my maps. Sigh.

Source: Joanna Wang
Runfastandeatlots.blogspot.com

We came to the first tunnel and too many riders climbed to the top of the tunnel. It was hard to watch. I have the fully developed risk gene – they don’t.

We rode out together to Breezewood. I gave them my three rules for riding in (western) Pennsylvania.

  • Always stop at Sheetz
  • Know that Pennsylvania has a 4 foot law (passing)
  • No motorist knows about it

We were only about three miles from the end of the turnpike trail and Aaron said the team reported from the support van that it was raining very hard at the end. And we weren’t in it. That would end. It really was raining hard at the end.

I rode with Aaron Hoxworth, Helen Smith, Jamie Roberts, and Jocelyn Godlberg to Sheetz in Breezewood. After a restroom break, we rolled out, still in the rain. A car pulled up, rolled down the windows and the driver yelled “Go 4K Team Portland! Our son is with Team San Francisco.” They had Iowa plates. (They were the parents of Jeffrey Robson.)

Jocelyn, Aaron, Helen, Jamie
My 4K Teammates for the Day

Crossing the Juniata River we ran out of the rain. And we had a flat. I was riding with Aaron and Helen, having passed Jocelyn and Jamie on the descent over the river. Then I noticed we were missing the two girls. I doubled back and found Jamie and Jocelyn changing a tire.

When I arrived I used my tube and changed Jamie’s flat because tubes are precious commodities to riders on the 4K. Either that because I was so impressed she knew how to pronounce Juniata. She also told me she liked coming up here, Juniata College in Huntingdon, Pa., and described in detail eating at Panera in Altoona. Panera was where I took my friends on my first recovery ride after cancer and it holds a special place for me.

Jamie was conscious not to leave any waste behind. Rather than try to put her tube back in my bag, she wore it around her neck. I told her up ahead about 1/2 mile was a “trading post” which surely would have an outdoor trash can. We rode there and she offloaded her spent tube. Then the five of us rolled on into Bedford where I said goodbye for the night knowing I’d ride the next day with them.

Bedford, Pa.

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Western Maryland Rail Trail

HANCOCK, MARYLAND

My planning was off this weekend. Yesterday I was planning a road ride and ended up on the trail – without my mountain bike. Today I planned to ride near Altoona but it was, well, cold. I mean late-winter type cold, low 40s around 10:00 a.m. I did not bring cold weather riding gear.

Road to left – Trail on right

I drove through Portage to East Freedom, Pa, looking for new cycling roads and passed the first church my dad served as a pastor, in 1958. But it was still too cold to ride.

Western Section Terminus

I drove towards Virginia then stopped in Hancock, Maryland. Andrew and I had ridden here before, probably around 2001 or 2002, but I knew there was a rail trail – the Western Maryland Rail Trail.

Looking down – Canal in foreground
Potomac River in background

The trail is built on the former right of way of the Western Maryland Railway. It is a paved 23 mile trail. If one starts in Hancock, as I did, you are basically in the middle of it.

It was a bit warmer in Hancock, mid 50s, but I still wore knee warmers and a jacket. I headed out a road which seemed to parallel the trail and followed it as long as it seemed reasonable. And once on the trail I found access to the road, or a different road, and rode it as well.

The trail, at least the western portion, is in pretty good shape. The asphalt is in very good condition and there are minimal roots working their way up. I had remembered the eastern section being older and more rooted. But there were a number of small twigs on the path though.

It was an out and back good for 25 miles. It wasn’t a high mileage day or any amount of climbing but was a good way to break up the ride back to Virginia.

C&O Canal in Hancock

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Ghost Town Trail

EBENSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA

I love riding on the road. Occasionally I enjoy rail trails but especially if they are developed, i.e., paved.

Nicole Sokira

Today I went to the Ghost Town Trail where I met my 4th cousin, Nicole Sokira. The GTT is a crushed limestone trail. I wasn’t prepared for riding on this trail – I only had my road bike with me. Nor was I prepared for the cold — high 40s and low 50s. On Wednesday my Garmin displayed 106.7º on the asphalt.

 

The last time I rode the GTT was probably 14 years ago. Then it was open only from Dilltown to Nanty Glo. Andrew and I brought mountain bikes and enjoyed the trail.

 

I tentatively made a plan to ride with Nicole to Vintondale and then jump on the road for a 42-mile trail/road loop. Instead, we enjoyed talking so much that I told her we would stay on the trail. And she had planned to go only go out 16 miles and I talked her into going to Dilltown. She had never been so this would be her personal best.

Hunters Wear Orange So Should You

It was a gray day with a westerly wind. Even so, it was hard to miss the beauty of the trail. The Blacklick Creek was running strong pushed by all the recent rain in the area. Sounds of waterfalls and whitewater were everywhere.

 

In the summer when the creek is running low it has a bright orange color from acid mine runoff. But today it looked as pretty as any pristine river running full.

Eliza Furnace

On our way back as we reached Twin Rocks I jumped on the road back to Nanty Glo. It was good to put those road tires on pavement although there were two hills measured at 11%+ whereas the trail continued at 1%-2%. It was two miles on the road.

 

It was chilly, overcast, and a bit breezy but it is a beautiful trail to ride. My preference is those 11% and 12% hills and the accompanying descents but the scenery was better on the trail.

 

We joined back up in Nanty Glo and rode the trail the rest of the way back to Ebensburg.

 

It was a good day. But next time I will bring fat tires.

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Stop and Smell the Roses

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

I saw a post on Saturday on my friend, Brad Hancock’s, Ocean to Bay 100k ride which asked “what was your speed?” Too many times cyclists, especially road cyclists, measure rides in terms of speed.

Unfortunately, I read years ago on RoadBikeRider.com the then author stating that “no ride that doesn’t average at least 15 mph is worth it.” I haven’t been able to shake that notion but on some of my favorite rides I have averaged under 15 mph. I have been with a slow group or by myself and just took the time to appreciate what was around. Today was one of those rides.

Barry and cousin, Christy Larson

I did a modified “Airport Loop.” The full loop encompasses the Washington & Old Dominion (WOD), Custis, Mount Vernon, and Four Mile Run Trails. This one was a little different.

Barry and cousin, Christy Larson

When I reached Columbia Pike I turned onto the pike and rode to the Sheraton Pentagon City. Note to self: Columbia Pike is not a great bike route. There I met cousins Christy and Evan Larson. Although I have corresponded off and on for years with Christy, this was our first time meeting in person.

From the Sheraton I was a little unsure where I was going. Well, I knew where I could go but decided to try something a little different. I dipped into the Pentagon parking lot not knowing if there was a good way out to the north but knowing I could cut across to the Mount Vernon Trail.

In the parking lot I met two young people on City Bikes studying a map. I rode up to them and asked where they were looking to go. They said Arlington National Cemetery so I told them I would take them there.

Two Visitors from Zurich Switzerland

They were from Zurich, Switzerland. I told them I would be there in July. They told me to have fun and eat plenty of chocolate. Don’t worry my friends, I will.

I dropped them at the cemetery main gate then followed a bike path to the Netherlands Carillon which is between Arlington Cemetery and the Marine Corps Memorial (Iwo Jima). There were beautiful vistas here, overlooking the Potomac River and Washington, D.C. I stopped to “smell the roses.” Actually I took a lot of pictures.

Rather than held over to the Custis Trail I decided to see where the bike lane in Rosslyn (or is it Ballston?) took me. Other than the 4-5 cars that were stopped (parked) in the bike lane, it was a pleasant trip through the city — a little different than the trail that I am frequently on.

In Benjamin Banneker Park in Falls Church I stopped and watched a few minutes of U10B soccer. Well, mostly I watched the referee and was glad he wasn’t one of mine.

Wear referee socks, dude

On the section of the W&OD that is parallel to Shreve Road, I was passed by two riders. Granted, one was when I came to a stop to cross the road and the first rider did a sling shot move around me. My thought was they were big riders, maybe at the start of their ride. I didn’t try to stay with them. I was on a relaxing ride.

But in another half mile I saw them start the climb up to I-66. I knew with a 100 yard head start I wouldn’t see them again but I jumped onto the road and and quickly overtook both. Now that felt good. And I never saw them again – I left them behind. On a day in which I rode slow, enjoyed the scenery, met cousins, I surprised myself by overtaking these two strong riders.

In the end, a great day. I didn’t even average 15 mph. Not all rides are about speed. But this was a great ride.

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Wind and a Hillclimb

ALTOONA, PENNSYLVANIA

If January was cold (it was) and February was worse (it was), March has been brutal. I rode few miles outside on the bike because weekly there seemed to be a new snow storm.

Today I drove to see my nephew, Parker Sherry, play in the Pennsylvania High School hockey championship at Penn State. It was a 70 degree day at home but only near 50 degrees (10C) in Altoona. Plus there was a strong wind.

Parker Sherry

On the way back I stopped at Altoona. I stopped at the Sheetz on 58th Street and asked if I could leave the car. The manager graciously said yes and thanked me for asking permission.

Sheetz on 58th Street

My plan was to ride to the Curve and, if it wasn’t too windy, to the top of the mountain. Most of us say that given the choice between riding up a steep hill or into heavy winds we will choose the hill. Today I had no choice. I got both.

Strong headwinds from the start made climbing harder. I reasoned the winds would get easier once I reached the tunnel as I would be sheltered by trees and the mountain itself. And if it was unsafe I could turn back.

I climbed, both upward and into a strong wind, and past the three lakes that are part of the reservoir system for Altoona. All still had ice on them.

Ice on the Lake

Although one must climb to reach Horseshoe Curve the climb is 1-2% then 2-3% and then 3-4%. The real climb begins only after going under Horseshoe Curve through the tunnel. Then the grade starts at 4-5% then goes 6-7% and increases until it kicks up to 12, 14, and then 18%. 

Tunnel under Horseshoe Curve
One viaduct for the road and
the second is for mine drainage water

Virginia’s winter road dirt is sand. Pennsylvania’s, or western Pennsylvania’s, is gravel. Maybe not real gravel but something worse than sand. The sides of Glenwhite Road were covered with it. Climbing, it made getting out of the saddle a little sketchy for fear the wheel would slip. Thankfully there was very little traffic on this road.

Still lots of snow. And gravel.

I struggled. Maybe my memory is short but I thought today was the most difficult climb I’ve had here.

My goal had been to reach the top of the climb. I had already decided against the loop route going across the summit ridge at Gallitzin and down Sugar Run Road because of the high winds. Those are both exposed and I have almost lost control on windy days descending Sugar Run Road.

Some of the snow runoff on Glenwhite Road

Once at the top I turned around. What is normally an all out tuck and roll became a little scary. There still is a lot of gravel on the road. To apply the brakes too much risks causing the wheel to slide and I didn’t want that. So I took the descent with a little more speed than I wanted, given the conditions, but 10 mph less than I do in good conditions. And it was cold.

I was glad I grabbed the knee warmers and long finger gloves. I almost wished for the descent I had my balaclava too.

Once back through the tunnel and back to the Curve it was smooth sailing. The road was better and speed was no issue. And it was great to have ridden another day up the Wall.
 

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The Happiness of Pursuit

BRENTSVILLE, VIRGINIA

The temperature was forecast to reach almost 60 degrees — before a massive winter storm was to arrive around 4:00 p.m. I wasn’t looking for a long ride but checked the Potomac Pedalers’ website and found one at Brentsville that left at 11:00 a.m.  The time was 10:40 a.m.

I grabbed my stuff and jumped in the car. When I arrived the group was gone but I had wheels down at 11:10 a.m. There were cue sheets on one of the cars and I grabbed one. I saw their route and knew a shortcut that I could take and intercept them. But I decided it would be more of a challenge to chase. So I followed their exact route.

Around Mile 15 I spotted a couple of riders and slowed a little so as not to catch them. Too early for a catch. Finally at Mile 19 I caught one rider then a second. I caught the group at an intersection. And then it hit. What now? Ride with a group that was butt slow that I caught? They went straight. I went right.

I enjoyed the happiness of pursuit but like a dog, it wasn’t so great once I caught them. I enjoyed the solo ride.

The temperature crashed almost at once. It went from 57 to 42 degrees almost immediately. Although it was party sunny at start, it turned gray and was getting darker. I really thought the cold rain was coming in later in the day.

I wasn’t sure where I was and without the sun, my sense of direction wasn’t helping. Actually it was. I have a good sense of direction which at times means that something isn’t right. I sensed I was going in the wrong direction if I wanted to get back to the car quickly. My Garmin has a direction indicator and when I saw I was headed south I turned around.

At a post office and store which proudly proclaims “You Are Now in Downtown Somerville” I asked a woman for directions to Brentstown Road. Once she confirmed my directions I pedaled off and it started to rain. Cold rain. It was bouncing off my helmet. I had no jacket. I was dressed for 57 degrees.

I worried about – my phone. I even made a decision before I left home not to grab a Ziploc bag for my phone. That was a mistake. I pulled over, it was the only time other than asking the woman directions that I pulled over, and disassembled my repair kit. I keep a spare tube inside a Ziploc bag and used the bag for the phone then put the tool kit contents in my rear pocket.

For the final hour I hoped that one of the many SUVs or trucks that passed would see me riding in the rain and offer a ride. None did.

Before the roads turned wet they were a bit gritty in places. But once the rain came it was a sandy, salty mess. 

Dirty Bike safe at Home

I suffered. Greatly. Cold and wet. Numb.

I got to the car. I turned the heat on high and never turned it down.

At home, a 90 minute hot bath made everything better again. And I just rode 60 miles.

____
NOTE: The Happiness of Pursuit is also the title of a book by Davis Phinney detailing his cycling career and his battle with Parkinson’s Disease. It is a great read and highly recommended.

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A Cold Cold January

ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA

I’m not sure what the final numbers will show but this was probably the coldest January in 20 years. It was not a good month for riding.

In the middle of the month it warmed to about 40 degrees (5 C). I went “exploring” in Alexandria. The new Woodrow Wilson Bridge has a bike/pedestrian lane which connects Alexandria to National Harbor in Prince George’s County, Maryland. The bridge is the only one in the country the goes through three jurisdictions. Starting in Virginia, it cuts through the District of Columbia for about 100 meters and 95% of the structure is in Maryland.

Woodrow Wilson Bridge
Maryland side

It wasn’t an epic ride, but still, sort of fun. On the Maryland side is a crushed gravel/shell path for about 400 meters or so. It’s very ridable. At the National Harbor is the sculpture the Awakening.

The Awakening
National Harbor

There’s always something majestic about being on a large bridge crossing over the Potomac River.

W&OD at Gallows Road
Fake Snowflakes

The rest of the month was, well, cold. Today was to be the “warm” day. It was 42 degrees when I left the house and went to the W&OD at Gallows Road. I was expecting a clear trail. Instead, it was snow covered.

So I went to Hains Point in D.C. and it was closed. I couldn’t catch a break. I rode some lightly used roads around Hains Point then crossed the 14th Street Bridge. At first, the Mount Vernon Trail looked clear but as I rode I encountered patches of snow and ice. It was scary on a road bike. I turned around just south of Reagan National Airport. So I just rode. The streets in D.C. were clear.

Ice on the Potomac River

Hard to think in 6-7 weeks spring will be here and this lost month will simply be in the past. Can’t wait. 2014 is going to be great!

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Superman

First Batman, now Superman.

We are different from other living creatures because at an early age we
understand there is a beginning and an end, that we will all die. I am
not of an age that I think about it (much) but the last week has made me
face it a lot. When you lose a close friend close in age that will
happen.

Scott Scudamore loved life. He was the life of the party and
where there was anyone and Scott there was a party. When I heard the
news on Sept. 23 that he was on life support I had a hard time accepting
that. But over three months we saw, I saw, that smile. And at Kessler
he told me that he was lucky because he didn’t have brain damage. The
entire time I believed that he would beat this in some way.

Kessler Institute for Rehabilitation
West Orange, NJ

We
looked for signs of movement returning. We were all excited the day Scott moved his thumb. But we never saw anything more. And if he were confined
to that wheelchair with no movement below his neck I knew that he would
somehow make a difference in other people’s life in his new condition.

He was Superman. He was the guy we kiddingly said we all aspired to be.
But I never wanted to be like Scott and I doubt that anyone else did
either. For Scott was unique. There was room for only one Scott.

At the start line with the kids from the
Boys and Girls Club, Sept. 15

And confession time: I never called him Scud and I never ate a Scudfry
(although they may not exist in the singular – just the plural,
Scudfries). He was always Scott to me.

Scott would call me at the
strangest times. “Barry Sherry,” accenting each syllable equally, “How
the heck are you?” And I’d ask “Where in the heck are you?” Traveling
between events, skiing in Colorado, visiting his daughter, Krista, in San Diego, or in
the living room with Jeremiah and Erin Bishop, he was always planning
our next adventure.

Scott was a legend in the mountain bike world.
And I am not a mountain biker. But he made time for me. He dragged my
butt to Iowa for RAGBRAI two years ago. He came with me to Altoona for a
cancer recovery ride. He invited me to ride with him and the kids from
the Boys and Girls Club in Charlottesville in August. And he supported
every one of my many cancer-fighting charity rides.

Barry, Eli, Scott
August 29, 2013


Scott was a
proud husband, father and grandfather. He worried about the health of his wife, “St. Margaret,” also a cancer survivor. He was proud of his daughter,
Jen and her husband, Carl, and their two kids. He always let me know
what Kyle and Marie were doing. And he was proud of his daughter,
Krista, making a career of serving in the U.S. Navy.
Sweating in Altoona
April 2010
Scott didn’t
just (re)learn to talk when he went to Kessler — that blinking stuff was for
the birds after all — he SANG. When I saw him and asked about his voice he
said it was so strong he could sing and he BELTED out LA LA LA LA LA LA
LA going up then down the scales. Everyone who could look did and he
was grinning from ear to ear. That was Scott.

If anyone could
beat this injury, it was Scott. Yet, looking back, even the few hours I
was with Scott, I saw the optimism one needs to overcome the injuries
but also the frustration and disappointment. The physical therapist
moved his shoulders and asked him if he could feel that. He smiled and
said yes. And then realization set in as he realized that he did not
feel his shoulders move. And the frustration and maybe even anger at
being trapped in this body, Superman’s body, that didn’t work. 

Altoona ride, April 2009

It shocked me, and probably most of Scott’s friends, because we saw, we
believed, the ever smiling Scott would beat this. But unless you had a
personal visit and saw the downs as well as the ups, you wouldn’t know
any better.

Then there was “the bike.” Whether it was designed
for Christopher Reeve (that other Superman) or he just used it at
Kessler, I do not recall. But even with limbs not working Scott’s rehab
equipment of choice was the bike. His feet would be strapped to the
pedals and a motor would move his legs. The therapist explained that
with his blood pressure “all over the place” they could not risk putting
him on this machine. And he was quite dejected.

I showed him
the picture with me and Kyle’s soccer team, all wearing their new Scud’s
Courage jerseys. He proudly told his physical therapists how Kyle’s
team got special permission from the club to wear those and “they’re
going to wear them next year too.” Such a proud grandfather.

Kyle’s team honoring “Scud’s Courage”
Kyle is next to me, my hand on his shoulder

When I told Jen that story today she said “sounds like Dad made that part up.”

Still, I left Kessler remembering the smile. The proud grandfather. The
promise I made that I would be back to visit and that when he went home
I would come stay and visit.

I forgot that during my time
visiting that he had some down moments. He was someone you would
remember the good times. And, in my case, ignore the signs that all was
not well.

When I had arrived for my visit, Margaret and I talked
and she told me that she almost asked me not to come because of Scott’s
ups and downs. But Scott had vetoed that idea because he wanted me to
come. However, just two weeks ago she did ask me not to come because he
needed his rest. 

Superman
Picture from TrailsForYouth.org

The signs were there for me to see but this was Superman. I ignored them.

This video is from the tribute Scott’s
colleagues at the Lake Monticello Rescue Squad
gave him at his funeral.

 
If there was one person to beat this horrific injury it was Scott. But
in the end it was too much even for him. All of a sudden you realize
that we don’t live forever. If death can snatch someone so energetic and
vibrant, and in reality he was a cross between Superman and the
Energizer Bunny, then I am left to realize that it will catch us all.
It’s something we don’t like to think about but it is real.

A great man. A great friend. He will be sorely missed but his memory and his legend lives on.
 
Maybe Jen was right and her dad made up the part about Kyle’s team
wearing those jerseys next year. But as Director of Referees for his
soccer club, I talked to the administrator today and told them Scott’s
story.

They will be wearing those uniforms in the spring.

Superman lives on.

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A Slow December

HOOVERSVILLE, PENNSYLVANIA

Mileage is not a goal. It is simply a byproduct of reaching other goals. And of having fun.

When I went to the 24 Hours of Booty in August and went over 4,000 miles I knew I wouldn’t match last year’s total of 6,500 miles since I had gone over 5,000 miles at the same point last year (and ended with 6,500). Yet I kept adding up the miles. And in late November when I went over 10,000 kilometers (6,231 miles) I needed only 10 miles per day for the next 30 days to set a personal best for a year.

But I got sick. I picked up an upper respiratory tract infection which grounded me. Literally. I went nowhere. I couldn’t ride. Well, maybe I could but it was Zombie Riding. I couldn’t feel my body. So I rested.

December was lost except for a ride near the end of the month. At our annual Sherry family gathering at Camp Harmony near Davidsville, Pa. (between Somerset and Johnstown), Saturday brought decent riding weather. There were still some patches of ice or slush on the road but with temperatures in the mid 40s it was an otherwise beautiful day to ride.

My “camp” ride was a typical ride that defines me. First, it was solo as 90% or more of my miles are simply by myself. Second, it had a plan – one that didn’t work. Many of my rides go awry somewhere and, frankly, that is an enjoyable part of my riding.

Sherry Family Christmas

I had planned to circumvent the lake (Quemahoning Reservoir) and put in about 30 miles. I didn’t want to go too much farther because I hadn’t been riding for most of the month. My fitness level was gone.

As I got to the east side of the lake I came to the “Green Bridge” which was an open grate bridge over one section of the lake. And it was gone. In its place was a new bridge that wasn’t yet opened. On this day there was no construction taking place and I looked for a place to safely cross walking my bike but it did not look safe to cross. And a freezing lake is the last place I would dare slip and fall.

(Why I didn’t take a picture of the new Green Bridge, I do not know. Probably because I have taken so many pictures of the lake that I thought “nothing new here” except there was. There was ice formed in one section of the lake which would make a beautiful photo but I didn’t stop. It’s a fairly large reservoir with a decent size dam at the far end with a pretty impressive spillway.)

After a couple of minutes of looking at the bridge I followed the detour sign. I didn’t know where the road would lead but that’s sort of number three – go where the road leads. And it led up. Up the hill I went, crossed under US Rte 219 and as I neared the summit of the climb I reached a farm. Protected by a big dog. Running loose. I stopped. I turned around.

And that was number four. Go where the road leads but be prepared to change your plans. Especially where big dogs live. So I turned around and went back past the lake. I followed the road to Holsopple.

As I was riding through Holsopple I spotted a train station. A train station! Now there is one active track here but who knew there was a train station? And it was in excellent condition. I turned down a side street to get a closer look then saw a local. I asked him about the station and we probably talked for 15 minutes or so.

 

Train Station in Holsopple

And that was number five. Stop. Talk to a local.

The neighbor wasn’t real thrilled with the station. Privately owned he said, he thought the families who maintain it could use their money in a more humanitarian way. Perhaps so but I love seeing old buildings maintained. I listened. I can’t even say we had much of discussion.

The train station has its own Facebook page. Quite frankly, I like it.

 

From the Facebook Page for Hollsopple Station

Leaving Holsopple I rode to Hooversville. It’s only four miles but with no shoulders and into the low afternoon December sun. I was not comfortable.

Halfway between the two small hamlets is a very small one named Blough. Only a handful of houses are here but there’s a sign proudly proclaiming Blough to be the home of former major leaguer, Frank Kostro, who earned a World Series championship ring playing for the 1965 Minnesota Twins. I just know I hadn’t heard of him which means he wasn’t one of the 20 player cards I had for my Strat-O-Matic game for the ’65 Twins.*

Card from Baseball-Almanac.com

In Hooversville there is a swinging bridge over the Stoney Creek River. I love riding my bike over that bridge. No pictures. Which was maybe number six. Drain the battery in the cell phone. Oh well.

After a month without any miles (just 144 miles) it was great to be back on the bike. I will miss setting a mileage total for a year but mileage is not a goal.

___
*Frank Kostro was 5 for 31 (.161) in 1965

_____________
EPILOGUE – Feb. 24, 2014 – I just got an unexpected email from the unofficial historian for the Holsopple Station. Who knew anyone read my blog?

“Holsopple Historical Building, Inc., our official name, is a registered nonprofit corporation composed of citizens who are interested in keeping our town’s history alive. We have a board that meets monthly; we also schedule activities throughout the year to involve the community.

“We’ve been working for over 20 years to restore the station. It was literally falling apart when we took over. We have replaced the roof, replaced the bay window, rewired and repainted the station, and installed a new floor—supports, joists, and all—in the freight room. We’ve raised money through chicken barbecues, basket parties, etc., but the largest amounts we received has come from Somerset County’s tourism grants. That enabled us to add outside lighting, sidewalks and landscaping, and paint the interior.”

Their eventual goal is to open as a museum. It is a beautiful historic building. If you’re in the area check it out.

 

Detours

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Shenandoah Mountain Adventure

HARRISONBURG, VIRGINIA

When it came time to sign up for the Jeremiah Bishop Alpine Loop Gran Fondo I decided to go for the Medio Route (76 miles) instead of the full 100. Since I always sign up for the most difficult challenge this marked a big departure for me. And a little guilt.

 

But last year, my friend and a very good cyclist, Mike Reyes, went the Medio route which made me think I didn’t always have to do the biggest challenge. Besides the 30 mile difference the big difference for me is gravel. There are two sections of nasty gravel on the Gran Fondo full route which, frankly, aren’t fun and aren’t good for my bike. Many people bring cyclocross bikes or change their tires to 28cc. I wasn’t prepared to do either and didn’t want to subject me or my bike to miles of gravel.

 

Joe Dombrowski

 

At the start line I was next to pro riders Jeremiah Bishop (host), Cameron Cogburn (winner of Mt Washington Auto Road Hill Climb), Steven Cozza (I think), Joe Dombrowski (Team Sky), and Ben King (Radio Shack but soon to be Garmin). There are two ways to be on the start line at the Gran Fondo. One is to be a pro. The other is to be a Prostate Cancer Survivor. I highly recommend becoming a pro.

 

Start line: Steven Cozza, Joe Dombrowski (back turned), Ben King

 

One minute before the starting gun and I looked down and noticed a bubble sized bulge in the sidewall of my front tire. I was screwed. Maybe that explained the two blowouts on the Civil War Century, the last time I used that wheel.

I did the prudent thing. I rolled out with the pros for two blocks then peeled off and went back to my car. There I switched wheels and rode back into the group.

It was a chilly start. While it may have been close to 60 in Harrisonburg, out on the road my Garmin showed 52 degrees in the wooded section approaching Shenandoah Mountain.

The climb went OK. I passed more than I was passed by, many more, and initially was pleased. The first year I did it in 48 minutes. Last year it was 35. Today it was 34 and change. A personal best but not a great improvement.

 

Honey Baked Ham Sandwiches

When I came to the Medio/Gran split I was glad I was not headed up the gravel road. And I was rewarded with a new view. The Medio route was called the Shenandoah Mountain Adventure which differentiates from the Gran Fondo.

The second rest stop was at the base of the Reddish Knob Climb. Not good. Well, the food was great! Ham sandwiches along with fruit, drinks, energy bars. But after 10-12 minutes of standing around, the lactic acid built up. The start of the climb was painful. But once I settled in it got better until there was a downhill and no pedaling. Then it was like starting over.

This climb is beautiful. The paved road is so much better than the dirt road of two years ago. It was also much harder than I remembered from last year.

 

Robert Hess of the Prostate Cancer Awareness Project

After the last rest stop I was following familiar roads, until I wasn’t. Somehow I managed to miss a turn. Usually there are enough cyclists in front that one doesn’t need to rely on the painted road markings. But I messed up. When I saw the open road and it wasn’t familiar from the past two years and no cyclists ahead, I knew I messed up. I decided not to go back but keep going. I would find my way. And I did.

 

Near Bridgewater

It was a good day. It was fun. I don’t regret giving up the gravel and doubt that I would sign up for that option again. I hope they pave all those roads.

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