I came to the mountains to ride and was not disappointed. I left my parents’ place in Friedens and headed north to Stoystown. Rte 281 has no shoulders and moderate traffic but is generally friendly from Friedens to Stoystown.
Farm on Plank Road near Stoystown
I had a nice descent past Camp Harmony and the Quemahoning Reservoir. I went to Ferndale then crossed the river into Johnstown.
Quemahoning Reservior
Coming out of Johnstown I followed Menocher Blvd (Pa. Rte 271) which turned out to be a neat 11-mile mountain climb to the top of Laurel Hill Summit. When I lived in Rector in the 70s this was Laurel Mountain. Now it’s a hill.
Downtown Johnstown – Inclined Plane on the hillside
I was disappointed that I only could get my bike up to 48 mph coming off the mountain. I surprised my niece, Bekki Reese, when I stopped at her place in Waterford. I told her someday I would and it would be a complete surprise. Today was the day. She gave me water. Yes!!!
Rte 271 between Ligonier and Johnstown
From Waterford, I rode into Ligonier. This is one of the prettiest towns in Pennsylvania and perhaps, in the U.S.
The Diamond in Ligonier
I left Ligonier and rode up Rte 711 to Darlington Rd towards Rector because I knew I could hit 50 mph on that hill. But as I was descending I saw a sign for Bridge Out Ahead. Brakes!!!! If I wanted to return the shortest way to Somerset I could have followed Rte 381 to Jones Mills and then took Rte 31 to Somerset. Instead, I turned around and climbed the hill I just flew down. It was a 12% grade beast in places.
Rte 381 bridge in Rector
I returned to Ligonier then followed U.S. Rte 30 to Laughlingtown where I took a short nutrition break at the Pie Shoppee (the more letters in the name the more expensive it is). Leaving Laughlingtown I climbed for 3,5 miles to the top of Laurel Mountain — also marked as Laurel Hill Summit.
Compass Inn in Waterford, Pa.
When I was 16 years old, I was the captain on a tandem and took my blind stoker up this same climb. Not sure our parents knew where we were going that day until I proudly announced where we had been. Today I rode up the mountain. In 1971 we walked the entire way.
Crossing Laurel Mountain Again – Rte 30 between Jennerstown and Laughlingtown
About four miles north of Somerset I stopped at the Quecreek Miners’ site where nine coal miners were lifted to safety from what would have been their watery grave back in 2002. For days eight years ago the nation watched with interest to see if the miners could be rescued alive.
Rescue Site, Quecreek Mine
I returned through Somerset, stopped and visited another niece, Hannah Cramer, before returning to Friedens. After 86 miles the legs felt good and I was tempted to go ride another 14 miles to make it an even 100 but my mother had made dinner so it was a good end to a great ride.
For five months I looked forward to this day – the day that I would be back on the bike and come back to these mountains.
Much of 2009 was a blur with an illness and then a diagnosis of cancer. Most waking hours were spent thinking of cancer and quite a few sleeping moments as well. The only time I was completely at peace was on my bike.
I came to these mountains to enjoy their beauty and to getaway. Generally, when I was on my bike I thought of nothing else except riding. It was especially so when I was in the mountains.
I rode “The Wall” by Horseshoe Curve four times last year. I also went to the White Mountains in New Hampshire and was able to lose myself in thought. Truly, I found peace on my bike and in the mountains.
David Vito
We loaded up six riders in Reston, Va., at 7:00 a.m. and drove to Altoona, arriving by 10:30 a.m. It was “wheels down” at 11:00 and we headed out to Frankstown Road. We were greeted by an unexpected one and one half mile climb.
I had promised three great climbs and three screaming descents on my planned 100 km route. As we waited at the top of the hill – this was a no-drop ride – I had to rethink the 100 km route as everyone complained about not being in riding shape. I adjusted.
Kelly Noonan
Adjustment number one was we turned at Newry and started an 11 mile climb but at 2-3%, up to Puzzletown. In Puzzletown we turned on Valley Forge Road. Here I hit 48 mph – pleased, but then disappointed that I couldn’t push it to 50 mph.
Scott Scudamore leading the group up Valley Forge Road
We turned on Old U.S. 22 and began the seven mile climb to the top of the mountain. Once at the stone arch, we went through the Portage Railroad National Park and cut over to Gallitzin for a short break at a country store.
Then we earned our seven mile descent down Sugar Run Road. Three of us formed a paceline while the other three were content to ride it at a more reasonable speed.
At the bottom, we made our way over to Horseshoe Curve and split our group. A bit of a mutiny as Kelly Noonan and David Vito decided to sit out yet another climb, the steepest of the day too. The early season “big ride” was perhaps too much. But we pushed on.
David Vito at the base of Sugar Run Road
I was only disappointed as this was the climb I wanted everyone to experience. Although I was saving the best for last, perhaps we should have gone up this climb first. But we got everyone up and over the top, back to Gallitzin and down Sugar Run Road again. Then we made our way back to the van.
Kelly, David, and Vince at the bottom of Sugar Run Road
In a recovery that is slower than I want, I can say this was the best day I have had since surgery. I really needed this day.
As for peace on a bike, Kelley remarked to me that riding in Altoona one can only think of the suffering on the climb or the fear of descending at breakneck speed. “No wonder you never thought of cancer while you rode here.”
My early season riding began with a climb to the top of Blue Knob Ski Resort and included back-to-back weekends in August climbing Horseshoe Curve’s 18% “wall.” It is simply one of my favorite places to ride. But my cancer diagnosis made these mountains even more special. It was here where I could get away from cancer and find peace on my bike.
With Fall approaching and my season hitting the “wall” quicker than when climbing it, I took the opportunity to go to East Freedom, Pa. for one last ride in the mountains as I fully fight this cancer battle.
Statue of Liberty at Blue Knob
My ride took me up Pa. Rte 164 to the crossroads at Blue Knob. This was a seven-mile climb with long sections of 8% grade. It is a two-lane road with no shoulder but not heavily traveled either. And every single car gave me a wide berth when passing.
At the summit, I found a taste of New York. Their very own Statue of Liberty. Who knew?
14% Grade
I spotted a sign — “14% grade (next) 7 miles.” It was heaven! Nowhere can I find an equivalent grade to Mount Washington — 7.6 miles at 12% average. But this held promise. At last, a training ground for Mount Washington.
I braced for my descent because 14% can be quite dangerous on a bike. But it wasn’t to be. By my calculation, there may have been a section that was 10% but it didn’t last long. And it soon flattened out. Who makes these road signs anyhow? It was just a tease.
Also by my calculation, and my gut feel on the bike, from Blue Knob to Puzzletown was 4.5 miles at a 5% grade.
Allegheny Portage Railroad
From Puzzletown (can anyone figure out what they do there?) I traveled Valley Forge Road and found a sign for a 12% downgrade was close to an actual 12% which led to a 12% climb. Or more. But only for a mile down and a mile back up.
On Valley Forge Road
Reaching Old U.S. 22 I had a 5½ mile climb to the summit. For much of the climb, there were two lanes upward, divided, which meant that cars could easily move to the left lane to avoid getting too close to me. I rode on the right side of the white line but for a long stretch, there was very little shoulder. Yet more often than not cars gave me no berth and two idiots honked their horns at me like there was somewhere I could go. Into the woods, perhaps.
For about 30 minutes my mind was playing games trying to analyze why most drivers on a two-lane road would give me wide berth and cross into the oncoming lane and these drivers wouldn’t move over to the empty lane that was going in the same direction. Old US 22 would be used mostly by locals — locals who may believe it was faster and should remain faster than getting on the new US 22. Locals who believe the road belongs just to them. I just don’t know. Maybe people are jerks. A revelation.
Allegheny Portage Railroad
I never visited the Allegheny Portage Railroad Historic Site and always wanted to. And today I could. I am always intrigued by old-time engineering marvels and this was one of them.
Allegheny Portage Railroad – Lemon House
Operating from 1834 to 1854 it was built to carry barges from Johnstown to Hollidaysburg which connected river traffic between the Ohio and Susquehanna Rivers. It consisted of 10 inclined planes (think of the Inclined Plane in Johnstown or the Duquesne or Monongahela inclines in Pittsburgh).
Allegheny Portage Railroad – Incline Number 6
At the summit I was looking for a road over to Gallitzin but never found one. I saw a truck with U.S. Government Plates and stopped it and asked for directions to Tunnelhill. When I balked at the park ranger’s first suggestion, riding on U.S. 22, she told me to cut through the Allegheny Portage Railroad Park. Even though it was gated, she assured me that I could and I was surprised at the site and delighted in that it did take me to Tunnelhill Street.
I was glad I did. I would have never seen the Lemon house, other than from the road, or the tracks of Incline Number 6.
In Gallitzin, I met a local who encouraged me to go to the Gallitzin tunnels. He didn’t tell me the road to them was straight down. But it was. One can stand on a bridge and see the trains coming through the mountain. I wonder what’s it’s like to live above the tunnel?
Imagine living above a train tunnel
The climb back up to Tunnelhill Street was a neat 14-16% grade. But at 27 miles, that would be the last real climbing of the day.
From Gallitzin, it was a straight shot down Horseshoe Curve Road (Glenwhite Road) past the famous landmark and three reservoirs.
Horseshoe Curve
I’m not complaining because every ride up Horseshoe Curve is a good ride but who the heck thought of a process called chip and tar? The descent down to Horseshoe Curve can be screaming, especially when coming down off The Wall but the upper portion of this road had recently been chipped. Or tarred. Maybe just chipped. Without tar.
A 4-mile climb to the summit, sections of 18% grade and a 200′ tunnel. Life doesn’t get any better than this.
There were no line markings. Descending was tricky because with the loose gravel, er, I mean “chips,” one could easily slide out. Once I got to the good pavement I could let it roll.
Because of mine drainage, there are channels to keep the acid water out of the reservoirs
The rest of the ride was simple exploring as was all but the Gallitzin to Horseshoe Curve portion. I wrote down some simple directions and followed those but was unsure when I was in Hollidaysburg where I should travel to next. There was a service station with a store and I needed to replenish my water.
I walked into the convenience store and it reeked of cigarette smoke. All I could see was shelves of cigarettes and chewing tobacco. I turned to the sales clerk and asked “do you sell anything healthy in here?” I’m a jerk.
When she asked what I meant I simply asked for water. Outside was a visibly pregnant mother smoking, waiting with the dog while her husband bought more cigarettes. I wanted to scream at her “GIVE YOUR CHILD A CHANCE!” But would good would have it done? I am reminded that this is still Appalachia and a cyclist with shaved legs wearing Lycra is the stranger here.
Actually a very steep portion of Glenwhite Road
I will miss riding in Altoona. Each of my trips involved meeting special people. On the first, I met John Griffin who lives in a house where I lived 50 years ago. He invited me in. On the second and third I met and rode with riders from Spokes and Skis — Joel, Richard, Bryan, and Stacey. Also there was Stephanie from Panera. And today I had a park employee let me cut through the park, a local send me to the tunnels, and two others point me in the right direction when I was unsure. Really unsure.
I’m afraid this is the end for a while. I have hit the wall.
The climb up Mount Washington is an accomplishment of personal achievement of one story to be told. Riding in the LIVESTRONG Challenge-Philly was a much different accomplishment. Here there are 6,500 stories to be told.
There’s a real sense one can beat anything by reaching the summit on Mount Washington. Likewise, there’s a real sense that one can beat anything by seeing 6,500 people come together and raise $3.2 million for cancer research and education and support.
At check-in, the volunteer, in a long table of volunteers, opened her notebook and saw my fundraising total — then more than $2,800 although it grew to more than $3,000 by the time I had left the table. She yelled out my name and announced how much money I raised for Livestrong. Everyone in the tent cheered.
Bikes at Landis Store – Livestrong Philly 09
Because the checks that I carried had not yet been credited to my account, my total went to $3,050. And $3,000 was the threshold for an invitation to the LIVESTRONG recognition dinner to be held at 6:30 p.m. I thought “a dinner’s a dinner” and wasn’t going to attend. Even less so when I was told the dress was business casual. I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt — a LIVESTRONG T-shirt to be sure, but still, shorts and a T-shirt. And that was all I had brought with me.
The volunteers told me that I must attend and so I did. Ninety minutes later I found myself being served H’ors devours by black-tie waiters to me in my shorts and T-shirt. There weren’t many people by themselves — most had family members with them. I was a little lost and found myself standing next to a bald man — about 30. I saw his name tag. It was Ethan Zohn — winner of Survivor-Africa.
Lance Armstrong could not attend as he was racing the Tour of Ireland. He did send a video message and asked Ethan to be the keynote speaker.
Everyone has a story. Lance’s personal friend, John “College” Korioth, kicked off the evening with many stories about Lance. I won’t do any of them justice but will try this one.
After Lance’s surgery, they decided they would fight cancer. It began with fundraising and they set off to raise $25,000.
“Hello. I’m raising money for the Lance Armstrong Foundation.
“You know, he’s the cyclist that had the surgeries for cancer. He rode in the Olympics.
“No, that would be Scott Hamilton.
“Well, he lost a testicle to cancer.
“No, that would be the Phillies’ first-baseman, John Kruk.”
And here, College smiled and said, ‘Lance hates this next part.’
“No, he’s a cyclist. Like Greg LeMond. Only he’s never won the Tour de France.” And that was the beginning.
Elden Nelson, blogs on FatCyclist.com. I would say there were 30 people or so that raised at least $3,000 for LIVESTRONG-Philly even though there were a couple hundred people in attendance. Many people were part of his team, FatCyclist. He has a national following which helped Team Fatty raise more than $250,000 for the Philly event and for the three Livestrong events so far this year — more than $625,000.
College spoke, then Eldon, then Ethan. The night was running late and I had to get back to the hotel, decorate my shirt, and get up at 5:00 a.m. Regrettably, I had to leave before the event was over.
A sign to make, break, or challenge riders up to Landis Store – Livestrong Philly 09
Morning came much too soon. A quick breakfast and I was off to the event. There was a three-mile backup on Germantown Road to Montgomery County Community College and I was creeping. I was in it at 6:45 and by 7:20 was still 1.5 miles from the event start. So I drove into a residential section, parked, and biked in, getting there just before the 7:30 start. And learned the start had been pushed back to 8:00 a.m.
At the start were queues for the various distances. Ten, 20, 45, 70, and 100-mile rides were offered. Many riders wore a LIVESTRONG jersey, at times it seemed that almost half wore the black and yellow. I chose to go with my Amgen Breakaway From Cancer jersey. I received a number of compliments on it and saw no one the entire day with a similar jersey. I love being unique.
Posing with the Devil – Livestrong Philly 09
As group winners, Fat Cyclist riders were allowed to go first. Imagine starting a century ride with a group of fat riders in front. Actually, while they had some portly riders, many are drawn to this group because of their mission and not because they are overweight.
I don’t know the exact numbers but think nearly 1,000 riders started out with the 100-mile ride and we were the first group to roll out. Still, it took 10-15 minutes from my middle-of-the-pack position to make my way to the start line.
The first 20 miles were spent just sorting things out. Letting the slower riders drop back and getting the faster riders to the front. In my haste to park and get to the start line, I left all my food in my van. Still, I rolled past the first two rest stops to try to get closer to the front group of riders.
Rest Stop 4 – Livestrong Philly 09
As the route rolled through the countryside, signs greeted us alongside the road and people came out of their houses to cheer. And high-five. I probably slapped the hands of 20 people standing along the route including the Devil himself. Maybe he was drawn to my bike number still on the bike from Mount Washington which was 667. Well, in handing out numbers for Mount Washington they were in sequence to 665 then skipped 666 to give me 667. I know I had 666 no matter what was on my bike. And I guess he did too.
I stopped at rest areas 3-6 and even an impromptu water break before rest stop 6. The rest areas were 10-12 miles apart and I drank two bottles of water and/or bad Gatorade between every rest stop. The temperature was in the mid to high 80s. (30º C)
Rest stop 6 – Landis Store – Livestrong Philly 09
The 100 and 70-mile routes used the same course with the 70-mile route taking a shortcut to the return. A 30-mile shortcut. Although they started behind us, eventually they got in front of us and we began catching them in the last 30 miles.
A number of riders were walking. The course was challenging for many. For some, they had never done a 70-mile ride before. And they had the right cause to do it. And the same with the 100-mile ride. Who cares if they had to walk long stretches of hills? They were challenging themselves like never before for a great cause.
Eventually one begins to see the same riders and I found myself in contact with a few. A couple of riders asked about my jersey and really admired it.
As I rode I talked with some riders including such minutia as the meaning of the race bib numbers. I was shocked when I got my race bib — number 60. I was expecting a number like everyone else seemed to have — 3898. I certainly wasn’t the 60th person to register. Probably more like the 3,898th.
Livestrong Philly 09
But on the form, one must check the reason why they are riding and the first box is “I have or have had cancer.” We surmised the low bib numbers were for the survivors. And I think we were right.
As I rolled to the finish I found myself next to a young lady named Amy from Providence, Rhode Island. This was her second century and both were here. And she warned me — at the finish, survivors enter the barriers to the right while supporters enter to the left. We came riding in together and she went to the left side and I went right. As I came to the finish people cheered and a volunteer held out a yellow rose which I took. Actually, I sort of went flying by and grabbed the outstretched rose so they couldn’t see the tears in my eyes under my glasses.
It’s not a normal ride. There are 6,000 stories, every one different. But at the finish, the rose was a reminder not that I’m a survivor but that I have a longer road ahead.
The weight of having prostate cancer was weighing heavy on my mind. But I have one escape plan. This.
Yesterday we had a family reunion near Punxsutawney, Pa. Beforehand I went to breakfast with a cousin at Eat-n-Park in Indiana and everything went sideways. Actually, everything went wrong. Very wrong. I needed a break.
This morning I left my parent’s place in Friedens, Pa., and drove to the Edison Elementary School in Altoona looking for a park or for parking. At 11:18 a.m. I rolled down the street and turned up 58th Street towards Veterans Memorial Highway that goes to the Curve.
It was a beautiful day as I passed three lakes (reservoirs) and came to the famous Horseshoe Curve. After one passes the Curve there is a 200′ tunnel and there the climb begins in earnest. When one leave Altoona the road is going up to the Curve but mostly at a 1-2% grade. After the tunnel it begins a 4-5% and keeps increasing.
Visitor Center at Horseshoe Curve My photo. My bike. Undated.
Near the top of Glenwhite Road is the infamous “Wall.” It is a quarter-mile very steep climb that hits 18-20% grades. After the Wall there is still some climbing, followed by a slight brief descent and then a final climb to Coupon Gallitzin Road.
The Coupon Gallitzin road follows the ridge of the Allegheny Mountain to Tunnel Hill, a small town in Cambria County on top of the mountain. Here I turned on Sugar Run Road for a screaming descent back down to Altoona.
When I reached Altoona I passed the school and continued for a second trip up the mountain. I was here escaping cancer and dealing with what life brings me. As I approached the Curve I was caught by a couple riding up the mountain. I can’t say if they were going fast (probably not) or if I was going slow (defintely so). I was lost in thought. Thought of cancer. Thought of how yesterday’s breakfast could go so wrong.
Richard and Staci passed me and we echanged greetings. And just like that I was riding with them. Any thoughts I had of turning around at the Curve dissapaited as I rode with them. I learned that Richard was a veteran of this climb many times while Staci had never made it up without stopping.
The conversation turned to why this Virginian was in Altoona climbing up Horseshoe Curve. I explained I was on a cancer journey. And this was my break from thinking about it, except, of course, when I was telling people about it.
Richard rode away from Staci and while I could follow him, I stayed with Staci encouraging her. Sometimes that was in the form of talking about anything, anything other than The Wall which was just ahead. Staci and I rode up and she made it. And I was part of her journey.
When we got to Coupon Gallitzin Road I decided I would turn around and go back down to the car. It was the short way. It was the fast way. Although it probably would have only added about four miles to my ride.
For one day, Horseshoe Curve came through again. I forgot about all my problems and just concentrated on the climb and the amazing beauty of the area.
EPILOGUE – While this ride predated my use of Strava, I late went back and created a segment on Strava – Twice up the Climb and once down Sugar Run. To my complete amazement, there is only one Strava in the history of the app who has ever climbed this mountain twice on one ride. Yes, me.
A beautiful day with temperatures in the 80s brought out thousands of bikers, as in motorcyclists, to the annual Thunder in the Valley event in Johnstown and the surrounding mountain communities including Somerset and Ligonier. I don’t ride a single kilometer without a helmet and my lasting impression of these bikers will be of the hundreds I saw riding care-free without their helmets. That’s not for me.
I started in the village of Waterford and took Nature Run Road to Laughlingtown. One mile on U.S. Rte 30 and three miles on Pa. Rte 381 was the only flat riding of the day. The three miles from Rte 30 to Rector hasn’t changed much in the 42 years since we first drove it when we moved from Ohio to Rector. It is lined alternatively by a canopy of trees and post and rail fence or borders the Loyalhanna Creek. This is “Mellon Country” having been the home of financier Richard King Mellon and the Rolling Rock Farms. There has been one improvement — the road surface is in excellent condition making this a wonderful ride on a bike.
Devil’s Hole – Rector, Pa.
When we were kids each spring we helped dam up a portion of Linn Run, a very cold mountain stream, so we could swim in Devil’s Hole. A natural pool was 3′ deep and we could get the water level up from half-way to 2/3 of the way on the large rock pictured above. Yes, the cold water was over our heads. Sadly, it is now marked No Trespassing.
Coming out of Rector I climbed the one-mile Darlington Road hill up to Rte 711. In the lower sections it has 15% grade and by the top has leveled off to 11-12%. My route took me on Darlington Road where perhaps I could have hit 50 mph on a descent except I didn’t trust the road surface at this point. It was rough with some loose gravel.
I went behind Idlewild Park and found myself on another great road headed to Bolivar. All roads were climbing or descending. When I reached the end of my loop I decided I would continue on Rte 271 towards Johnstown. Well, not all the way to Johnstown although that would have been a fun destination. But to the top of Laurel Hill Summit.
When I drove the climb it seemed to be a 5-6 mile climb and I wanted to see how my legs would respond on a long climb with a fairly steep grade – consistently 8% but at times 10%. I went three miles and emptied my second water bottle of two. I decided not to continue without water. It was a daunting climb and I have been battling but getting over a three-week illness. Unless… …Unless I saw a woman sitting on a porch. Which I did.
This is a climb on a mountain road. There are very few houses on this road. To find a house and had a woman on the porch was close to a small miracle.
I pulled over and pulled out an empty water bottle and pointed to it. I did talk too but the pointing simply illustrated I was friendly and the reason I was approaching her. I asked for and she willingly filled my water bottle. When I asked how far to the summit she told me it takes her more than an hour to walk it. Great. But on I went. The water was just right even though I could taste the iron in the well water.
Two miles up, and when I thought I was nearing the summit, a car waited for me to pass the entrance to his driveway then the driver yelled out some encouragement. “You’re doing an excellent job.” Maybe he’s a cyclist because most people don’t understand how an almost-defeated cyclist magically gets wings to fly when hearing words like those.
It was another mile to the summit and I rode to the Somerset-Westmoreland County border then turned around. On the descent, I wanted to fly. But I was passed by 12 bikers on six bikes just as I started my descent. Probably 2/3 of all bikers had two people on them. (To be certain, these were motorcycles.)
But as I picked up speed, and I was pedaling, I caught them and then had a dilemma. I wanted to hit 50 mph but to do that I needed to pass them. But I touched my brakes instead. I hit 48 mph but there was no way I was going to integrate with this group. They were taking pictures of one another and almost daring me to pull side by side with them. But I was rolling along on wheels that were 3/4″ wide on a bike made of carbon fiber. There was no way I would try anything stupid at this speed.
They certainly didn’t mean any harm. They were having fun too. But it was too dangerous to ride too close to them. I wasn’t happy that I didn’t hit 50 mph but it was a wonderful day with 50 miles in the mountain.
This was advertised as a Potomac Pedalers 55/75 mile “classic club ride.” We met in Myersville, Maryland where approximately 40 riders departed under sunny and pleasant skies.
The first 20 miles were spent simply sorting things out. Groups of riders, often two in a group, would form and then break up. I ended up going solo a lot between groups of riders until I settled in with “Alan” (wearing an orange Euskaltel jersey) and “Mike” from Olney (in the yellow jersey). Just about the time we started riding at a comfortable pace, we entered Pennsylvania. Now this was a surprise to this rider. Who knew?
I didn’t see any welcome signs when we rolled into Blue Ridge Summit, Pa. My first indication that we were in Pa. was the keystone sign announcing a state inspection station. Here we caught 10 other riders. The 13 of us stayed together for just one mile when we came to the “moment of truth.” The “short” 55-mile route would turn left. The 75-mile ride included a 20-mile loop back to this intersection.
I wanted to ride the long route today. My pride and ego said to go for it. But I must be getting wiser in my old age. I actually listened to my brain.
Knowing that I would referee an assessment U19B soccer match tomorrow at 8:30 a.m. it would not make sense to ride 75 miles and then have dead legs. And who knows, maybe 55 miles was not a smart idea either.
Assuming most of the fast riders went the long route, five of us must have been the first to head out towards Penmar (and Pen Mar). The other eight riders headed for the longer route.
I had no idea of the route. Heck, I didn’t know we’d be riding into Pennsylvania. And I certainly didn’t know where the climbs were. On this route, there were no flats. It was all climbing and descending.
We reached the base of Pen Mar, the mountain, in Penmar, the town. And the road turned up. The first mile and one-half was a neat 7% grade with sections kicking up to 12-14%. But even upon reaching a false summit, there was another two miles at 5%.
There were five of us together at the base of the climb. I was sitting in last as we started. Normally one is content to sit in behind the rider in front but I knew they were going too slow for me. Mike, was headed up the road by himself. I then passed the three riders to close within 50 meters of Mike. By the top of the steep grade, I was 10 meters behind.
I caught Mike on the next section and then tried to pace him but instead ended up dropping him. I reached the top of Pen Mar 200 meters ahead of everyone in our group.
The view up here was great. There’s a rock cropping that overlooks the Maryland valley. But the picture does not do it justice.
Penmar – the mountain
We turned around and got to descend part of the climb. At our rest stop (store), we picked up an extra rider who had two flats and was just content to find a group. We started out with six and we were gapped by Mike and the new rider. The guy sitting in third wheel allowed this to happen. Eventually, I was able to break free from my group and bridge up to Mike and our new rider. Once I caught the new rider I dropped him — I was just trying to pace us both up to Mike.
Mike would regain his wind or legs and he hammered it home. I struggled to stay on his wheel, at times losing contact but always coming back. I think we were the first to get back to the lot. Glad the big boys took the long route.
Check out the elevation chart. There are no flats on this ride.
I parked in East Freedom, Blair Co., at the elementary school. It started out sunny and seemingly warmer than it was. I wore a jersey and arm warmers. I soon realized it was cooler than I thought with temperatures never climbing more than the mid-50s. I slipped on a jacket that was in my back pocket.
My route took me down the valley and around the base of Blue Knob. Blue Knob is both a State Park and ski resort. At 3,127 feet (953.1 meters) it is the second-highest peak in Pennsylvania, second only to Mount Davis in Somerset Co. (3,212 feet).
After 22.5 miles the climb began at Pavia. The Blair Bicycle Club listed the climb as almost five miles at 7%. They listed a 25% section which I did not find. But the distance was right and it was a nice climb. I think two cars passed me on the way up so “lightly traveled” might even be an understatement.
Blue Knob Ski Resort
It was a ghost town at the top if one building, a ski lodge, constitutes a town. If I needed a place to get more water or food and had counted on this, I would have been out of luck. Actually, I was counting on this but on this cool day, the two bottles on my bike were enough.
The descent from Blue Knob was a little scary. The first mile of the descent was steep and in horrible shape. There were many potholes and lots of loose gravel. The steepness necessitated riding the brakes but the gravel made it dangerous to use them.
The wind was blowing and it was cold — in the mid-40s, and I was still soaked with sweat from the climb. But after the first mile, the pavement improved. And once I reached Ski Gap Road it was a long straight 2-3% descent back down to Claysburg.
At Claysburg I had to return to East Freedom. But the road I was on, Bedford Street, was lightly traveled and in great shape. This would be a great place to live to ride. One can stay on the flat roads of the valley or head to the mountains.
And then the most surreal part of the ride. In East Freedom, I saw a man mowing his lawn. I first went by him then something said to turn around. I did and I caught his attention. I introduced myself and then told him “I used to live in this house.”
John Griffin immediately said “well you have to come in and see the house.” He proceeded to take me room by room while I was wondering “was this the house I lived in when I was three or was it the house next door?” But eventually, I figured out that it was the right house and gave him a little history to go along with what he gave me, namely, the house was built in 1910.
Afterward, it was a quick trip to Panera in Altoona for some refueling and lunch with a special cousin. This was an incredible day. It was a trip over a mountain and back in time.
I was up early at my parent’s house in Friedens and decided to ride some more in the mountains. I drove to Jennerstown and parked on Main Street. I rode the mile or so out of town then the steep descent on U.S. Rte 30. After a quarter-mile drop, one is at the lowest point before the climb.
The Tour of Pennsylvania described this as a two-mile climb with a very intense mountain pass that sees grades of 15%. I had no problem going right up the mountain although not as fast as the boys did on Friday. I wanted to go over the top back to Laughingtown then come back up and over but the sky looked ominous. It looked like a storm was about to move into these mountains and I didn’t want to get caught in it. I turned around at the truck area and headed back to Jennerstown. I was disappointed that I never got above 45 mph on this descent.
I thought about driving over to Rector and going up, then down, Darlington Road again but wasn’t sure where the storm was and wanted to try something new. I drove to Altoona.
I had remembered an article Bicycling about the toughest 100 climbs in the U.S. One of those was the Horseshoe Curve climb in Altoona. I parked on 58th Street and started out towards Kittanning Point Road. The climb was up, past three reservoirs, but never very tough. As I climbed I heard a train creaking and breaking as it descended the Allegheny Mountains towards Altoona. It was way too easy that I reached Horseshoe Curve. I couldn’t believe this was a tough climb. It wasn’t.
I saw a tunnel and went through it under the Horseshoe Curve. On the other side was a beautiful forested country road. I kept riding and it kept going up. And that was the new deal I made with myself. As long as the road turned up, I would keep riding.
Tunnel at Horseshoe Curve
I saw a sign for Adopt a Highway and saw it was sponsored by Blair Co. Bicycle Club for the next four miles. I figured I had four miles. Cool.
After about three more miles I was getting tired. I was in my granny gear and was standing and sweating. But I kept moving without “paperboying” back and forth across the road to make the grade a little easier. Finally, it became easier.
I read later that this section is 10-12% but then one hits the wall at a 19% grade for a half mile before settling back to 12% for the last mile. That was it. And I made it. I love riding in these mountains.
I turned around. On the descent, I wanted to let it out. But this road had many curves and it was raining. The rain was following me. The last speed I saw was 43 mph in a curve. Then my computer went out. On the transmitter, a support broke off so it wasn’t in the right position to read the magnet on the spoke. I was doing 0 then 10 then 6 then 4 then 38.
I will need to come back and explore this more. Much more. It was everything as advertised especially “three lakes and a 200′ tunnel.” It is absolutely beautiful.
