Category: Pennsylvania

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Path of the Flood

JOHNSTOWN (FRANKLIN), PENNSYLVANIA

I was looking at the Winter 2020 edition of Rails to Trails magazine and saw a very brief article about the Allegheny Portage Railroad. I had seen the eastern end many times, it is well preserved as a National Park Historic Site but I had not been on the western end.

Trailhead for Path of the Flood Trail

In 2010, on my first ride from Somerset to Punxsutawney, I had taken a wrong turn and ended up at the trailhead of the Path of the Flood Trail. I turned around when the pavement ended and the trail became crushed limestone.

First quarter-mile; the pavement turns to a gravel road

I wonder what adventure I would have had if I had stayed on the trail that day. Lost, that’s what adventure.

Path of the Flood Trail. The river is visible on the far left beyond the train tracks.

But today I decided I would do a loop by following the trail to South Fork then taking the road back to where I had parked. The forecast was for rain starting around 11:00 a.m. so I went early.

Path of the Flood Trail – the crushed limestone trail turned to mud and single-track

I drove to the trailhead but the park was closed. Not sure if it was the season (a weekday in March) or was in response to the Coronavirus. I went back into Franklin and parked on the street.

On the trail to Staple Bend

It started to rain as soon as I started to pedal. I was in it to win it and the rain would not stop me.

A bridge at the base of the Staple Bend Tunnel

 

The trail went from decent crushed limestone to less limestone then some grass/mud areas. I was riding my new Trek Domane with 32cc tires and felt comfortable on the surface.

This is an uphill section to the tunnel. As with most photos of hills, this does not capture the grade but it is steeper than it looks.

 

It was only 2.5 miles from start to the Staple Bend Tunnel. I suspect that this was the start/finish of the Allegheny Portage Railroad. The tunnel was the first railroad tunnel in the U.S. (1833). From here would have been an inclined plane that probably went to the river’s edge.

It was here the trail would have been a true “rail-trail” because in this section it followed the path of the Allegheny Portage Railroad. And the surface felt like it. There was the “climb” up to the tunnel. It was probably about 6-7% grade, and while I could ride it, it took me a few steps before I could get going.

Supposed to see light at the other end. This is the eastern portal of the Staple Bend Tunnel.

 

I had read that you could go through the tunnel without a flashlight because you can see light at the end of the tunnel. Not today. Pitch black. It was actually pretty frightening looking. I thought that maybe it was closed for the winter and there was a closed door at the other end. But surely there would be a sign at the open end.

There was light at the end of the Staple Bend Tunnel

I decided to try it. I would ride deep into the tunnel and see if I could see. I had a helmet light and a small portable flashlight. I started pedaling and scanned the flashlight back and forth. I made noise, lots of noise. I was fearful there may be an animal or two in the tunnel. At some point, maybe halfway, I could begin to make out some daylight.

Staple Bend Tunnel westbound – much different portal than on the eastern end

 

As I exited the tunnel, the rain started again, this time heavier. The trail was in pretty good shape, high above the Little Conemaugh River. There was no guard fence and there was a warning to dismount and walk because of the steep dropoff. I did not.

On the left are the stones that were the original trackbed for Allegheny Portage Railroad

 

At Mineral Point, which was only a little more than a mile from the tunnel, the trail ended. I have no idea with the topography of the land where the Allegheny Portage Railroad would have gone.

But I went, down and under the train tracks and across the bridge into Mineral Point. This town was virtually wiped out in the 1889 flood. Here I picked up the Path of the Flood Trail. The trail climbed on the north side of the river. It was never a hard climb but a gradual one.

Little Conemaugh River in Mineral Point

 

Across the river, I could see the Conemaugh Viaduct. It was a beautiful stone structure in 1889 where the rushing waters forced debris and piled up until the structure collapsed. It was, by some accounts, more forceful than the damn break.

Conemaugh Viaduct

The Pennsylvania Rail Road needed to get trains back in service and amazingly, had a new structure in place within two weeks! A permanent stone structure built in the early 1890s.

Path of the Flood Trail between Mineral Point and South Fork

I got into South Fork and planned on taking the road back. But first, I wanted to continue east towards the remnants of the dam, which I have seen many times. But then heavy rains came. I turned around and decided to head back to the car.

I had gone a little more than two miles when I pulled over to put on my glasses. I couldn’t find them. I had started the day wearing sunglasses, despite the absence of sun, to keep the rain out of my eyes. But they had fogged up and eventually, I tucked them away. They were in my back jacket pocket and now they weren’t. They had fallen out when I got my phone out at the tunnel and I thought they must have fallen out somewhere between the tunnel and South Fork.

At first, I decided to roll on without them. It was raining, and cold. The glasses served me many miles but they were old. My $50 investment would be gone. I went about half a mile farther and decided I would backtrack and I may find the glasses. I knew no one would be on the trail and if they fell out, I would find them. They had white frames, not black, so should be easy to spot. I made the decision I would trace my route to Mineral Point but not the final section through the tunnel as it was pretty rough riding.

On my way back, as I came to the viaduct, the morning fog had lifted and I went for a photo. Then I took the flashlight out of my jacket and put it in my jersey pocket. There wasn’t room. My glasses were in my jersey. Duh! I must have put them there after they fell out of my jacket. They were with me the entire time.

Path of the Flood Trail in Mineral Point

I rolled on to Mineral Point. As I crossed the bridge a geyser of sealant came gushing out of my front tire. I had a leak. I quickly turned around for a slight downhill section to go as fast as I could to rotate the wheel and get the sealant to seal it. It worked. I think.

I started the climb on the road out of Mineral Point. The tubeless tire seemed to have sealed. This road was steep. It was also about 3 1/2 miles. I got to the top, turned right, and began the coast home. I was worried about the tire but it appeared to be holding. I got back to the car and tried to wipe the bike down. I inflated the tire as it was down to 35 psi (from 80) I put it back to 80 and it appeared to hold. I drove through Johnstown on my way to a bike shop. Then I heard the tire. It was leaking again. A not so good ending to a wet and otherwise, perfect, day.

Got a bath in sealant

 



EDIT/EPILOGUE – The great tubeless experiment 2020 lasted little more than a month. I needed to get a repair fast and City Cycles in Johnstown was closed – forced closed by the governor. I called Paul McIntyre, in Pittsburgh. Paul had been my go-to mechanic in Reston before moving to Pittsburgh. Their bike shop was also forced to close but Paul met me in a dark alley in Pittsburgh and we repaired the tire so I could ride another day.

Paul McIntyre – Not doing a bike repair in a back alley in Pittsburgh which was illegal according to the Pa. Governor.

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MS-150

HOLLIDAYSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA

Friday was check-in. I biked the four miles between my hotel and the check-in site and there was informed that Saturday’s route would be changed. We were told that because of the heat that the ride would conclude at the lunch stop at Camp Kanesatake. From there the riders and their bikes would be transported to Penn State.

Ugh.

Start at Hollidaysburg High School

I ride in heat. I live in Virginia. I rode in Texas. Bring it on! I was very disappointed. This route change would also impact which bike I rode. I had my Trek Pilot (2006) with me and decided that would be a better choice than my Domane (2014) if it was going in a truck.

 

Rest Stop One

On Saturday I arrived at Hollidaysburg Senior High School and went looking for the write-on bibs. This is very important to me to be able to write and wear “I Ride For my Daughter.” For the second time in three years, there were none to be had. This was more disappointing than the route change.

 

Martinsburg, Pa.

We rolled out at 7:00 a.m. We largely stayed in a group. I missed my friends from Rooster Racing where we were comfortable riding in twos closely following the wheel in front of us. This group was very sketchy. There were riders in the “left lane” basically hugging the double yellow line. One had to pass into oncoming traffic or pass on the right. But the kicker was a woman (Bib 111) who while descending in a group sat on her top tube, in the Super Tuck position. This is very unsafe and I immediately backed way off then passed her never to see her again.

 

Lock (without an E) Mountain Road

I fell in with three brothers from Pittsburgh. We stayed together until the Ritchey’s Dairy rest stop (MP 17) and that was it working with other riders for the weekend. It was solo the next 133 miles. (They were good riders. I just didn’t impose myself waiting to ride with them after the first rest stop.)

 

Williamsburg, Pa.

In Martinsburg, I turned back to take a photo of a mural on a building. I figured if we were stopping short I would take my time. Heck, I might even be last to the lunch stop. Once on the road, I saw Lock Mountain Road. I turned and decided to ride up the road. But it went nowhere. Well, it went somewhere but not where I expected. I checked Maps on my phone and was very confused. And when confused just turn around. Only later did I figure out I wanted Locke Mountain Road. That damn E. Still I got some bonus miles.

 

Lunch stop with finishing arch in the background

Maybe the cool kids (or fast ones) were all in front of me. I was not passed from Williamsburg to the lunch stop. At lunch, I saw Bryan Caporuscio from Spokes N Skis. I asked him what the real deal was as I had seen some riders continue on. He said one could ride unsupported which I decided to do. A volunteer recorded my number and I set off.

 

Buses at Camp Kanesatake

I had been talking to two men and a woman. They took off about a minute before me but as I rode I could see them up the road. I figured I’d pass them but saw they dropped the woman. I think she was the wife of one. Ouch. I passed her too. After a few miles, I had the thought that we were riding unsupported and no one should ride alone. Later I did learn there was a skeleton crew of support still on the road.. I turned back until I caught her and told her we were unsupported and no one should ride alone. Except at that moment, the rear derailleur cable broke. I was stuck in my biggest gear.

 

Up the road from Camp Kanesatake

I started to pedal away from her and saw her two friends were waiting for her. I would never see them again. Riding became alternating standing and sitting. I felt I was stronger and faster because I had to use a bigger gear, that is, I didn’t have any bailout low gears. It would also tire me out.

 

The Famous Cookie Stop

The famous Cookie Stop was still in place although we were told it wouldn’t be. One HAM radio operator offered to call a SAG but I said I would soldier on. The hills ahead were rolling but I would have been out of luck on the hills of U.S. Rte. 22. I pushed the gear as hard as I could but had to walk right out of the rest stop and on Airport Road. I was sure I would be swept up (passed) by other riders but never was. I am thinking my speed was up while I was pedaling. Or maybe everyone else was suffering.

 

The warning was late in the day, 3:15 p.m. When I finished it was 84°.

Arriving Penn State I went right to the Spokes N Skis repair tent. Troy told me he had passed me and thought “that guy doesn’t know how to ride a bike – he is in much too big of gear.” Then he said, “Now it makes sense.” A $4 cable repair and I was fixed and ready for Sunday.

 

Beaver Stadium, PSU

Dinner featured two young mothers with MS. Jennifer (sorry I didn’t get your last name) spoke about what it was to be living with MS. Diane Kramer, a nurse from State College, spoke about how Bike MS makes a difference. She gets treatment at the MS Center at Johns Hopkins and she stated that 15 years earlier her doctor’s medical education was paid for by the National MS Society. We make a difference.

 

Diane Kramer (Source: Diane Kramer’s Facebook)

Oh boy. At 3:45 a.m. an alarm went off in the building. We were all required to go outside until it was cleared, about 30 minutes later. It was a short night. After breakfast, I got my bike from the storage room. At 6:55 I wondered why there were only 5-10 riders in line waiting for the start. Then I saw volunteers telling riders to go anytime.

With a second day of heat and humidity, starting the ride early made perfect sense. Unfortunately, if that was communicated it did not get to me. I would have rolled out at 4:15 a.m., right after the fire alarm.

 

Start in State College – Where is Everybody?

The organization said there would be buses at Camp Kanesatake as well as lunch. The problem was this was less than 30 miles into the ride and arriving before 9:00 a.m., I imagine they did not find many people eating lunch. I did have some ice cream, served by the Huntington County Dairy Princess(es).

 

Diary Princess(es)

It was a day to ride (and not be on a bus). It got hotter as the day progressed but the stops were staged appropriately. My only response to the heat would have been to put a water-only stop in between each rest stop. That is why I am not an event director.

Trek Pilot 5.0 and some old tractor

 

Near State College

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Stranger on the Road

RICHLAND, PENNSYLVANIA

Each year I look forward to my ride from Somerset to the family reunion near Punxsutawney (which is actually Winebark Park in Canoe Twp., near Rossiter).  When my parents lived in Friedens, I barely had enough time to get there. But when they moved to Somerset I just didn’t have enough time to travel there safely before the noon meal. The road from Somerset to Friedens at 6:00 a.m. is just too sketchy.

Leaving Team Kia in Richland

Rather than leave in the dark, I checked with my nephew, Josh Reese, and parked at the Kia dealership in Richland. It was easy-off, easy-on for access from US Rte 219. When I arrived there was a heavy fog and I delayed my start until I felt safe enough.

Good morning Johnstown! The Inclined Plane.

Leaving the Kia parking lot is a little like riding the Thunderbolt roller coaster at Kennywood Park in Pittsburgh for the first time. Rather than start by pedaling, I almost could take a half pedal turn then coast for three and one-half miles.

The fog in Johnstown on Clinton Street

Of course, I didn’t do that. It was all downhill and I pedaled most of the way, only occasionally dropping into a tuck and coasting. What a great way to begin a trip. Rather than go through Johnstown as fast as I could I went sight-seeing, mainly taking some photos of the Inclined Plane.

Who doesn’t like a picture of a caboose? (Walnut Street at William Penn Ave.)

The road (Pa. Rte 271) out of Johnstown is through East Conemaugh and up a mountain. But it seems to be graded at a consistent grade, I would guess around 4%, and I always find it easy (although my climb data may disagree). Traffic was mostly good as I went through Mundy’s Corner, Nanty Glo and Twin Rocks up to US 422 at Belsano.

Ghost Town Trail

I was on US 422 for less than half a mile then turned on (and stayed on Rte 271). I was surprised about a mile in to pass a bike trail crossing. This was an extension of the Ghost Town Trail. It looks like a nice trail, very lightly traveled, but best for bigger tires and not this road bike. At least for long distances.

Rte 271 north of Belsano

This is always my favorite part of the trip – the 13 miles to Northern Cambria. Rte 271 has good pavement, little traffic, and is easy pedaling, with only one climb along the way (up to Nicktown). I could smell the corn in the field. And occasionally, manure.

Rte 271 near Duman Lake Park

I stopped at Duman Lake to use a porta-john and also for a photo op. There is a climb to Nicktown which I only later learned was a Strava Segment. I didn’t know I was racing. I will have to come back tomorrow and put up a decent time.*

Duman Lake County Park

At Nicktown is a four mile descent to Northern Cambria. On past rides, I have hit 49 mph but today only went to 44 mph and got in a tuck. That was fast enough (and was also the speed limit – 45 mph). I have found that since my crash in Ohio I am more cautious than I have been and I have never been careless.

On the climb up 271 (Blue Goose) towards Nicktown

I stopped in Northern Cambria and saw my cousins, Don and Nancy Lowmaster, and their daughter. I couldn’t stay long but enjoyed the short time we had.

Tracy and Barry

As I was leaving Northern Cambria, I was passed by a truck pulling a trailer with a small tractor on it. The driver got out and as I approached, motioned for me to pull over. This did not feel like an angry setup and I complied. Then he asked if I was “the Barry Sherry.” Well, I admitted as much. But who was that stranger?

Mike Perrone

The driver was Mike Peronne, the former postmaster in Cherry Tree, Pa. We had never met but we had talked and he knew once a year I rode through here. And he said “and I saw your hair and figured it was you.” LOL. We talked for about five minutes before we both headed up 219 towards Cherry Tree.

Bridge at Winebark Park

The rest of the trip I thought about that interaction with the stranger. Those last 20 miles are the hardest as the road turns heavy and there is a lot of climbing. Steep climbing and grades that don’t remain constant.

Johnstown, Pa.

The last couple miles are on Porterfield/Canoe Ridge Road and pass a few Amish homes. A little girl in a blue dress excitedly waved to me. Of course, I waved back. As did a boy about 10-12 years old. And a man climbing a ladder. It is always enjoyable riding through this stretch because the Amish are always so friendly to me. I think they relate to cyclists as they ride bikes and we face the same dangers on the road they do whether it’s by bike or by horse. And I am the stranger to all of them.

_____
EDIT/EPILOGUE – I did go back on Sunday. Can’t believe a crappy time on Strava would bug me enough but I could not leave those two climbs (the other Station Road coming out of Twin Rocks) with such bad times. So on Sunday, I went hard, first on Station Road Climb. Since I started at Krispy Kream and basically went downhill to Twin Rocks, the “engine” wasn’t warmed up. Still, I lowered my time from 7:38 to 5:30, a reduction of 23%. When I got to Blue Goose Climb I was warmed up. I went hard and lowered my time from 8:26 to 7:10 which was only a reduction of 15%. Aaah. I’ll never get KOMs on these climbs but at least my name isn’t associated with sucky times anymore. And on my way back, I went through a new segment that I wasn’t aware of. My time sucked. Must go back again.

Krispy Kream in Belsano

At least I finished with a good recovery drink. In a cone.

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The Real Test

ALTOONA, PENNSYLVANIA

Two days ago was the first test of my rebuilt knee over Henrietta Mountain Road. Although that was a steep climb, it lasted just two miles. Today would be the real test.

I parked at Logan Valley Mall and headed up 58th Street to begin my climb up to and past Horseshoe Curve. It was windy with a westerly wind coming over the mountain and thus would be in my face as I climbed. It was okay though as it was great to be outside on a bike.

I began the climb with a diversion to Leopald Park to use their outhouse. Don’t want to climb with a full bladder.

Once back on the road I could see one train above me, slowly working its way down the mountain. As Reservoir One, I could see the acid mine runoff water in its own channel keeping it out of the good water. Someday I will have to see where that acid water goes.

I stopped briefly at the Horseshoe Curve site, just long enough for a photo op. Then it was through the 200 foot tunnel where the climb up Glenwhite Road really starts. It was cloudy and there was some moisture on the road from an earlier rain but I avoided any rain that was in the area.

The channel diverts acid mine drainage past the reservoirs

As I climbed it dawned on me that if I were to describe this road to a stranger I would tell them when they look ahead and see where the road kicks up and they think that’s the hard part – it isn’t. Oh no, it isn’t. And thus I decided to do something different today. Not look up.

I saw where the road turned and started to kick up. I looked down. I stared at my front tire and bike computer, never looking up at the road ahead. Of course, I have almost memorized this road having ridden it 3-4 times each year since 2009.

This road holds a special place in my heart. Not only does it like to kick my butt, but when I was diagnosed with cancer nine years ago, this was my happy place. This was the one place I could ride and not think about the dreaded disease.

I began the climb. Head down. My legs knew I was climbing. My heart knew I was climbing. And my GPS knew. I could see the grade go from 12% to 14% to 18% to 20%. Oh yea, I was on the wall.

Every time I climb this I state that I forget how hard it was. Today was not the case. It was hard. Damn hard. But not quitting time hard. And I think it really helped not looking up at all.

When the grade came back down to 12% I decided I could look. I knew I was near the summit and I had about 100 meters to go. Although even at the top it’s another mile to the real summit.

I rode the 2.5 miles across the ridge through Tunnel Hill and then descended Sugar Run Road. It was windy, although it felt like a bit of a crosswind. I hit 46 mph, without trying, on the descent. Made it back to the car at the Mall – it was locked this time.

It was a great day on the bike. Any day one can get up Horseshoe Curve is a good day. My knee gave me no problems other than some fluid/swelling. But no pain. This was the real test and my knee passed.

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A Test of the Knee

SAXTON, PENNSYLVANIA

It’s hard to believe that it has been 12 weeks since my knee replacement surgery. I don’t think my knee is where it should be but I will withhold judgment until my next doctor’s appointment.

Since surgery, I have ridden less than 200 miles in total. In many years I am over 1,000 miles and sometimes over 2,000 by this time. But I am not completely “without legs.” I have been riding a stationary bike almost every day, often for up to an hour at a time.

This road. Henrietta Mountain Road. I found it only because some Altoona locals told me about it a few years ago. And I rode it last year. It compared to some of the toughest two-mile climbs I have done.

Last year I struggled. I even thought about stopping on the climb. Or turning back. But this year I seemed at peace with it.

I drove to Saxton and looked for a place to park. I found one at the intersection of Pa. 26 and 913. The car was off the road but otherwise out in the open. I pedaled to the foot of the climb. Just after starting and no more than one-half mile in, I wondered if I had locked the car.  I had left my car keys (I had the clicker), wallet, and laptop computer all in the car and available to anyone if it wasn’t locked.

Although I didn’t remember locking it, of course, I always lock it. I decided it would be foolish to go back to the car. There are somethings that you do automatically and locking your car is one of them, right?

The lower section of the climb starts at 6-8% then gets tougher. Soon the grades were 12% and some reached the 20s. I stayed seated, mostly, but occasionally got out of the saddle. It was hot (87°). For the two-mile climb, only six cars had to pass me. The road is lightly traveled.

At times, I could feel the knee clicking. I could hear the rhythm of the knee. But it didn’t hurt so I pushed on.

The road is steep. Period. I didn’t “paperboy” but I crept. I didn’t stop. I just kept the momentum going.

I did not review the route. The first/last time I turned around at the top. Today I went over the top. I expected to level off and come into Rt. 164 at the top of the mountain, and have a great ride back down. Oh boy, was I wrong.

It was a nice descent into a valley although I did not lose all the elevation I had climbed. It just felt like it. I followed Henrietta Mountain Road to the end, catching two Amish girls with a horse and wagon.

I came to Rt. 164. Instead of being at the top of the mountain, I was at the bottom. And here the road is high-speed, with a 55 mph speed limit. There were guard rails on both sides and no shoulder. And uphill of course because I had to cross back over the mountain. I regretted this route.

But I survived, with a note not to ride this way again. On the descent, I pedaled until I ran out of gears. I hit 49 mph. I so wanted 50 but with a 50 tooth front cassette, and a swollen knee, I just couldn’t find it today.

Back to the car but fully satisfied. I opened the car and found it was unlocked. Sick feeling. But checked. Keys there. Wallet there. Laptop computer there. The car was undisturbed. Whew! Dumb by me.

In the evening the legs felt sore. Like they had a workout. It’s been a long time since I was able to push myself on a climb like that. So glad I did. And looking at the map there may be another way back if I do this one again.

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A Mountain and a Rail Trail

HOPEWELL, PENNSYLVANIA

Probably eight years ago I asked some riders from Altoona what the hardest climb in the area was. I was thinking Blue Knob or Horseshoe Curve. One rider told me to find Henrietta Mountain Road. And today I did.

Parking at Hopewell

This was was tough. Although it wasn’t too long, just two miles. It’s always hard to compare climbs but I can compare it to some other two mile climbs or sections I have done.

That’s pretty good company, I would say.

I started my ride in Hopewell (Bedford Co.) on the H&BT rail trail. More on that later.

At Saxton I found the infamous Henrietta Mountain Road. I did no research and instead, just rode. It seemed to kick up to 7-8% right away. But after a quarter-mile just past an intersection, the real climb began.

Henrietta Mountain Road and intersection with Rte 164

It seemed to kick to 12% then went even higher. I have no real pictures because I wasn’t stopping although my body wanted me to. The road was winding but with only one sharp turn I hesitate to call a switchback. It was heavily wooded on both sides. It was beautiful. But it offered no panoramic views because it was so wooded.

Summit of Henrietta Road looking back towards Saxton (the tough side)

I tried to not look up the road because every time I did I could see it was going higher. After two miles, although I had no idea at the time, I could see the top. And here I made a mistake by not researching the climb. I assumed the road went over the top and down the other side. So I simply turned around.

A barn on Rte 26

The descent back was steep. Rough pavement. And windy if not sharp turns. It wasn’t fun. I couldn’t let the bike roll. What I learned after the fact was I should have kept going. I could have gone another 3-4 miles where I would have joined Rte 164 coming out of Martinsburg. Then It looks like a straight descent back to Saxton. In other words, a fun descent. Oh well, next time.

Crushed limestone at Hopewell

I rode back to Hopewell and explored the trail a little more. At Hopewell going north for two miles, the trail is crushed limestone in great shape. A road bike is fine although I wouldn’t want to ride 20 miles on this.

Gravel road headed south from Hopewell

Going south the trail was a road. A gravel road that led to a camping area. That was harder on the bike. I rode a couple of miles then decided I had had enough. Wrong bike for this surface.

H&BT trail near Cypher

The signature landmark on the trail seemed to be the trestle over the Juniata River. I had decided the surface wasn’t right to pedal to it.

Bridge over Juniata River near Cypher

The trail head seemed to be on my way back to Somerset where I was headed. So I drove to Cypher to bike that section.

I don’t know if it was good or bad but the trestle was probably no more than a quarter mile away. But it was gorgeous. Maybe even more gorgeous was the cut in the hillside. The trail here was crushed limestone, again.

Bridge over Juniata River near Cypher

It’s a beautiful trail. If there wasn’t the section by the recreational area which was a gravel road, I’d have no problem recommending a road bike for the surface. But this trail needs wide tires. I may ride this on a mountain bike.

Cut in the hillside by Cypher

______________________

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Spokes of Hope Saturday Ride

TREXLERTOWN, PENNSYLVANIA

Our riding group from Spokes of Hope met at the Valley Preferred Cycling Center for what has become our annual ride in the valley.  I joined Ken and Cindi Hart, Jay Bodkin, Kathy Robinson, Andrew Werner, and Branan Cooper (but Branan could ride only for a short bit).

Ken Hart, Kathy Robinson
Ken Hart, Kathy Robinson

Cindi asked us to gather and we formed a small circle. She gave thanks for friendship and then I offered up that this must also be a dedication circle. I led by speaking about Jake, whose family I had visited an hour earlier. And I dedicated my ride and day to Amelia Schmidt.

Bowers
Bowers, Pa.

We rode out country roads to Topton. But not without incident. Jay came to railroad tracks and did a bunny hop. He hopped right out of his cleat – the shoe suspended on his pedal. He did an emergency repair and we were able to continue as a group.

Topton
Topton, Pa.

We did a loop out to Bowers and ended up at the cafe in Topton next to the railroad tracks. While drinking milkshakes and smoothies (I had a smoothie), Cindi asked for a hill on the return ride where we could ride for the people we have dedicated to.

Near Topton, Pa.
Near Topton, Pa.

Andrew found a hill near Mertztown. Cindi and I went up. I yelled for Amelia and Alex and Jake.

SOH16_6

Andrew and Kathy followed. Jay and Ken watched. After the dedication, we passed a pumpkin patch and were surprised to see they were harvesting pumpkins in August.

Well, at least this writer was surprised.

Cindi Hart
Cindi Hart

It is always great riding with these cancer survivors as they enjoy their lives and triumph over cancer.

SOH16_8
Clockwise: Ken, Andrew, Jay, Kathy, Barry, Cindi’s shoes (Credit: Cindi Hart)

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Extreme Skinny Dipping

BEDFORD, PENNSYLVANIA

I met Rocky Sprow and his friend, Ed, at Fort Bedford. It was a beautiful morning.

Bedford Springs
Bedford Springs

We rolled out past Bedford Springs. It is a beautiful property with a nice golf course. We followed country roads for more than 20 miles to Lake Koon and Lake Gordon.

Bedford Springs
Bedford Springs

When we came to the spillway at the dam we stopped to view the lake on one side (Lake Koon) and the spillway on the other (empties into Lake Gordon). I met a young couple and had a conversation with them.

In a few minutes these kids would get naked and jump!
In a few minutes these kids would get naked and jump!

The young woman surprised me by jumping up on the top of the railing overlooking the lake. I went over to take a picture because I told her I thought “she was nuts.” We talked for a few minutes looking down at the water. I thought the distance looked similar to jumping into the River Aare in Bern, Switzerland.

Lake Koon
Lake Koon

The couple had been getting ready to jump and we weren’t leaving. I was enjoying talking to them about jumping at that time in Switzerland that I jumped. Finally, the young man somewhat impatiently said to me “well, we were getting ready to jump naked into the lake once you leave.” And I said, “we don’t mind if you jump.” And they did. They stripped quickly, dropped their clothes on the dam roadway, and jumped. Total time from standing to jumping was about two seconds.

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Rocky Sprow and Barry Sherry

Once they surfaced I yelled down to them and asked if they wanted their clothes taken down to the lake. They said they did so I gathered up their clothes and took them lakeside. They were still (hiding) in the water so I got their attention and showed them where I left them. I also noticed a pair of shorts were near the end of the dam. I think the young man probably left a pair there and when they were done, he would walk up, grab the shorts, then go retrieve their clothes in the middle of the dam. So glad I could help!

We remounted then followed the road another couple of miles until it dipped into Maryland at U.S. Rte 220. We were in Maryland for just two miles. We made a loop then hooked up with our original route to follow it back to Bedford.

We crossed the dam again and saw no evidence of our naked dam jumpers. We continued on.

The route back was a bit punchy on the way back. I secretly decided to win every KOM from my friends. I think I did (of course it helps if they don’t know what I’m doing to them).

Bedford Springs Old Course
Bedford Springs Old Course

Back to Bedford, it was a great day. Of course, not every day do two young people strip naked in front of you and jump off a dam. Stay classy Bedford, stay classy.

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My Last Ride With Dad

MARKLETON, PENNSYLVANIA

After a lifetime of not riding with my dad, three years ago I was able to take him on the Great Allegheny Passage which runs through his backyard in Somerset County, Pa. We went again in 2013 but missed a ride last year (despite trying but my dad was too tired the day we were going to ride). This time, we got it right.

Markleton on the GAP
Markleton on the GAP

I told my sister, Betsy, that I would meet her and Dad at Markleton, Pa. on the Great Allegheny Passage. Betsy followed him to Fort Hill, where he left his Jeep, then the two of them drove and met me at Markleton. It was in the low 60s but absolutely beautiful.

GAP near Markleton
GAP near Markleton

I chose this route because of the newly opened Pinkerton tunnel. Also, my dad hadn’t been this far on the trail. I knew it trended downhill from Markleton to Fort Hill and packed a lot of scenery into its five miles.

GAP in the Fall
GAP in the Fall

With leaves mostly still on the trees in Northern Virginia, it was strange to be here where most leaves are on the ground. The trail was fully covered in places.

Cassleman River near Markleton
Casselman River near Markleton

Words cannot describe how pretty the trail is. We went a couple of miles then came to the Pinkerton Trestles. It was probably 10 years since I last rode through here which was always Trestle – Detour – Trestle. And that was a beautiful route.

Dad at Pinkerton Low Trestle

Prior to the tunnel, the trail followed the railbed across the Pinkerton Low trestle. Rather than enter the tunnel, there was a one-mile detour out and around the tunnel which followed the natural flow of the Castleman River. But with the tunnel open it was now a straight shot from trestle to tunnel to trestle.

Pinkerton Tunnel
Pinkerton Tunnel

With the tunnel opened, it was even more beautiful. Although the trail trended downhill, it is mostly flat. One can’t coast but pedaling is a little easier in this direction. We were in a heavy forest and with leaves on the trail one could not see the surface of the trail.

Heavy leaf coverage on the trail
Heavy leaf coverage on the trail

And then – the trestle. We came to the Pinkerton trestle although we didn’t stop on it. We saw the tunnel and kept riding. It is not lighted, one would be helpful but is not necessary.

Pinkerton Tunnel
Pinkerton Tunnel

At the far end, we were on the Pinkerton High Trestle. We stopped and took pictures off of this one.

Pinkerton High Trestle
Besty and Dad on the Pinkerton High Trestle

Reaching Fort Hill where his Jeep was parked, my dad asked, “Is this the end?” There was resignation in his voice but he wanted to keep riding. I was worried that if we rode four miles down to Harnedsville it would be too much for my 86 year-old father to ride another four miles back up to his car. I grabbed his keys and drove his Jeep down to Harnedsville. And so we rode.

Besty, Dad, Barry
Besty, Dad, Barry

Betsy and my dad rode ahead. Arriving at the trailhead with his Jeep, I rode back up to the trail to meet them and we then continued to the Harnedsville trailhead. At the end, we got a little concerned when he went into the middle of the road where the trail crosses. He stopped. This is a road normally lightly traveled, but now there was a car coming from each direction. Betsy yelled “Dad!” I got the attention of one car and motioned for him to slow or stop. All of a sudden it clicked and Dad said “OK!” And then he moved. Whew!

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Dad near Markleton

Although my Dad wanted to ride ahead and look at a church in Harnedsville, there was no way we were going to ride on the road with him.  I loaded his bike in his Jeep and he drove home.

GAP at Confluence
GAP at Confluence

Betsy and I rode on down to Confluence. We looked for a place for a snack and found stairs leading from the trail with a bike trough to walk the bikes. The problem was the trough was on the side and not in the middle so the pedals hit the supports as I pushed the bike. Oh well.

Stairs from the GAP, Confluence, Pa.
Stairs from the GAP, Confluence, Pa.

We grabbed some cookies and a drink then rode back up to Markleton. What a gorgeous day on a bike.

Confluence overlooking the Youghigheny
Confluence overlooking the Youghiogheny

UPDATE: (SEPT. 14, 2016) – This post has been updated to “My Last Ride With Dad.” With each ride, we wondered if this was our last ride with him but this ride had more of a finality to it than the others. My dad seemed a little out of it standing in the road and I worried for his safety going home. He made it safely and then promptly sold the Jeep.

He never talked about it but looking back I sense he knew his mind was failing and that it was best to sell that beat-up Jeep he loved so much. We were just talking about another ride this spring when he fell in April. I wanted one more ride. I looked first at recumbent bikes. Handcycles. Tandems where I did the work. Ultimately, he would never ride again. And on this day we said our final goodbye to him we were thankful for the rides we shared with him. We were the lucky ones.

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