After 12 years, I can claim finish to my Pittsburgh to D.C. ride. If I want to.
Capital Crescent Trail crosses C&O
In 2001, Andrew and I rode out from D.C. but via the W&OD to Leesburg. We did not pick up the C&O Canal Towpath until Whites Ferry. In 2004 I rode from Pittsburgh to D.C. but bailed on the C&O at Fletcher’s Lock, jumping instead to the Capital Crescent Trail. I have never ridden the entire length of the C&O.
My sister, Betsy, and her husband, Tom Plietz, left on Thursday for a five day trip from Pittsburgh to D.C. I decided to ride with them on their final day. They started from Harpers Ferry. I started from D.C.
I took the trail I knew, the Capital Crescent up to Fletcher’s Lock then jumped on the C&O. When I got near Great Falls I realized I had never been on this path before. When I came back this way in 2004 we had to detour around the Widewater section. But the trail goes through here and it is gorgeous.
I didn’t take the time for photos as I was trying to meet Betsy and Tom. After I passed Riley’s lock I saw a man standing right in my path. And for good reason. He was watching a snake. I went around him and around said snake – a copperhead. Yikes!
Almost ran over this bad boy
I rode farther west/north and saw Betsy and Tom. I said “hi” as I passed them just chuckling to see if they would notice. I think they did.
Tom and Betsy at Riley’s Lock
I turned around and we headed back. We pulled into Great Falls for lunch. I’m all about being green but this place is ridiculous. They sell concession food, hotdogs and hamburgers and the like. But they follow “Colorado rules,” i.e., carry in carry out. They have no trash cans. Now this is good if you drove there and you can put your trash in your car.
Don’t buy concessions at Great Falls
But I was on a bike and had no free pockets or bags to carry my trash. This is what happens when you put bureaucrats in charge of policy. It really wasn’t well thought out. In truth, it kept me from purchasing what I needed.
We moved on and I tried to keep a pace so Betsy & Tom could meet their train. When we came to Fletcher’s lock, Betsy was feeling pavement but Tom wanted to ride the entire length of the C&O, so we did. As you reach Georgetown you have to search to find the towpath (hint: it switches sides) and then locate the end.
Even when I rode, I never found, nor did I go looking for, MP-0. It is located by the Thompson Boat House right on the Potomac. We made out way to it then I escorted them to Union Station.
I was a little worried about being pressed for time but never told them. I got them to their train as it was boarding for Pittsburgh. Perfect.
And in the end, I can now say I have ridden the entire length of the canal. And kudos to Tom and Betsy for their five day journey.
My third straight year going to Colorado to ride these big mountains. I don’t know why but my favorite climb was the 14 mile dirt road up and over 12,000′ Cottonwood Pass. The legs felt great that day. Best day of the year, in fact. I rode 105 but could have easily ridden 50 more.
It wasn’t the full Jacob’s Hero Ride that I had hoped but was very glad to have Chey Hillsgrove and Chelsea Johnson join me for two days of riding in Bedford and Blair counties.
On the W&OD Trail I saw a man and daughter on a recumbent pulled over so I stopped and asked “Where did you start and where are you going?” I was surprised to learn they started in Vancouver and were cycling to Key West. Thomas and Sylvaine Houdy, from Lyon, France, and their children, Theo and Elsa, took 11 months off for a trip of a lifetime.
Imagine the surprise on young Amish couple, Keith and Julie Zimmerman, riding their bicycles to church when I slowed down and told her that I was related to her. When she told me her last name was Wenger I knew were were related and tried to explain it to her. I don’t think she believed me.
A quasi-private ride with the governor of Delaware, Jack Markell. Of course I wore a Texas jersey to a Delaware ride.
2015 was my top mileage year by 1500 miles. I rode 8,078 miles (or 13,000 km because that looks cooler). Using the format for Potomac Pedalers’ Iron Crotch Award (for 5,000 miles):
Date on which 5,000 was achieved – Aug. 22 at the Spokes of Hope Ride in Indianapolis
Most miles in a Month — 1,232 (July)
Most miles in a week — 521 During Ride the Rockies
Number of Zero mile weeks – None
Number of 100 mile days – Three
And I will add for 242 rides the average was 33.38 miles per ride.
Most interesting story – My Amish cousins.
And that’s it. Another year. No falls or crashes (always a plus)! It was a good year but I still had 123 days without a ride. Lazy, lazy, lazy. I don’t know what 2016 holds for me. I want to do an epic ride for children’s cancer awareness and research but things have to fall in order. I love France, Italy, and Switzerland but don’t know if I will get back this year. I hope wherever it is I ride safe, make new friends, and most of all, continue to find peace on the bike.
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
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
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.
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
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
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
At the far end, we were on the Pinkerton High Trestle. We stopped and took pictures off of this one.
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
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!
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
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.
We grabbed some cookies and a drink then rode back up to Markleton. What a gorgeous day on a bike.
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.
• Rain fell from the beginning at 2:00 p.m. until 8:00 p.m.
• Rode in Memory of Jacob the Hero Grecco and Jamie Roberts
• Rode in Honor of Alex Shepherd
• First 70 miles were tough with cold and wet conditions zapping my energy
• Planned to ride throughout the night but was getting cold and realized I would not handle that many hours without sleep
• Retreated to car about 2:45 a.m. for a couple of hours of sleep
• Knew I was on pace for 200 miles but only by skipping lunch
• I ate lunch
• Marveled at a 20-something woman who rode like the Energizer Bunny. She was up to 280 miles and told me she wasn't stopping the rest of the way.
• I escorted a woman to help her finish her first 100 miles.
• After the event I was 18 miles short of 200 (14 really since Garmin was off for two laps). I stayed an extra hour to get the miles, hence 25 Hours of Booty
• Final distance was actually 204.2 miles
The weather did not look promising. Still, there was only a 40% chance of rain in Columbia. They missed that one. Try 100%. All day. It was raining as we took to the start line. While there a woman looked at me and said “Hey, you were here last year. You wore the F**k You Cancer jersey.” I laughed. “Well, it’s FUCANCER and I am wearing the socks.
I’ve got the socks
I then regretted not having my FUCANCER jersey (any of them). But I later discovered that I did have one of my jerseys with me. I wore my Bootystrong, Spokes of Hope, and Stand Up to Cancer jerseys throughout the 24 hours.
One of the younger riders
Our opening ceremony featured remarks by the organizer. Another, a guest who had lost his infant son, told a joke about how much he loved breasts. It made everybody cringe. We waited for recognition for Jamie Roberts, who had been killed on a cross-country cancer ride for the organization that benefitted from this ride. There was none.
National Anthem. Source: 24 Hours of Booty
Survivors, followed by top fundraisers, were to line up at the beginning. It appeared to me that the groups were mixed and everyone took off at once when it was announced. It would be more meaningful if they let survivors-only go. And then one minute later, let the top fundraisers go. Then one minute later, let everybody else go. Or let the top fundraisers go first. But a separation in the groups.
At the end of the first lap, and I went through it first – third year in a row, I pulled over and waited for my sister, Betsy, to roll by. And waited. And waited. Finally, after being lapped twice by the field, she came by and told me she had had a flat. She walked her bike back to the Race Pace tent and had them repair it.
Riding for Alex Shepherd
We rode. We got wet. The temperature was 70° so it wasn’t that chilly although there was no warming sun. When we stopped around 7:00 p.m. for dinner I had 70 miles but was chilled to the bone, sitting in a tent, soaking wet. I thought about calling it a day/night then. I went to the car, changed clothes, and turned the heat on high. Aaaaah.
Rainy day
With dry clothes I hit the course again. My intention was to ride 24 hours although I am not a night person. I rode until “midnight pizza” arrived and then turned off my Garmin for the first time. I wanted to record a 24 hour ride but didn’t know about battery life. So I shut down the Garmin while I ate.
Done with pizza, I turned Garmin back on to a mishmash screen of incredibly small fonts. It appeared it was in diagnostic mode. I could not get it to work. My plan all along had been to count laps and take a water/bio break every 10 laps (21 miles). So I kept counting.
Jake’s Snazzy Pistols – Betsy, John, Barry
After two laps I went back to my car for an extra layer and turned on the Garmin. This time it worked. I only missed 4.2 miles.
Around 2:30 a.m. the realization finally struck. I suck at sleep deprivation. It seemed on course there were only four of us but it could have been five times as many as we were spread out. Still cold, but no longer wet, I thought some time off the bike would be useful.
If I could make one cancer patient’s life better by riding 24 hours I would never stop. But at this point, the money has been raised and the time on the bike was purely personal. That is all. It’s good for a humblebrag. I took a break.
I rode in memory of Jacob Grecco and Jamie Roberts
When the sun came out I switched to my Trek Domane as the roads dried. At breakfast, Betsy and I sat with Paul Lemle. On course I rode with John Phipps and counted laps with him as his Garmin quit working too.
Betsy. Someday my sister will see this photo and ask me to remove it
There were a few riders who openly declared they were riding 24 hours and piling up the miles. One of these had a coach or wife just beyond the start/finish line. He didn’t plan to exit the course to take on food/water but simply have it handed to him on course. I saw him take bottles from her on the fly and toss his empty bottles aside. And then he was sitting in the grass. Just sitting. For an hour. Then he left. I don’t know what happened. Hard crash? Mechanical? Bad idea?
Jim Gleason was one of the ultra-riders (although not the one mentioned above) and was the top fundraiser. Another was a young (20-something?) woman who routinely lapped the field every 5-6 laps. Around 10:30 a.m. she told me she was at 280 miles and was not getting off her bike until the end.
But she was no longer lapping me (and John) and each lap on the climb up the start/finish line, we passed her. She passed back on the back stretch but I also noticed she no longer pedaled on the downhill portion. Near the end she was off her bike and sitting in the grass. She was awesome, racking up more than 300 miles and also she was human.
Pink arm warmers and a pink cape – she was awesome
Garmin beeped. Low battery. I knew if I was to get 200 miles that I was going to have to skip lunch. Once Garmin beeped I decided to go for lunch. I put Garmin in the car on accessory and gave it a charge while taking my time at lunch. I traded miles for lunch and my chance to reach 200 miles.
We were instructed to talk to people, and I tried. But so many people had earbuds in which screams to me “LEAVE ME ALONE.” So I didn’t talk to them. But late in the ride I was next to Veronica Galindo de Otazo and asked her who she was riding for. She said a friend of her daughter’s mother, who had a second recurrence of breast cancer. We rode and talked.
Veronica was also trying to get to 100 miles. At 12:26 p.m. we told me she was at 84 miles and wouldn’t make it. I told her she would. We would break it down. I told her we needed eight laps and at eight minutes per lap, we could finish with 20 minutes to spare. We did and she thanked me. She told me without me supporting her she wouldn’t have made it.
As we were held at 1:45 p.m. to begin the last lap, I put on my Team Alex T-shirt. At the completion of Booty I was at 184 miles. I decided to make it 25 Hours of Booty and get the 200 miles.
Barry – Source: 24 Hours of Booty
When I got home I realized those diagnostics that appeared in Garmin – it was fried. I could not offload the data. But I do have the picture and the course is a loop.
Missing two laps or 4.2 miles – 204.33 total
EDIT/EPILOGUE – Jamie never was recognized. A number of us waited to see if there would be something at one of the meals. Maybe a callup for a lap or two in her memory. Nothing. I expressed my disappointment in the organization that they didn’t recognize her life, her contribution. The CEO called me. It wasn’t to apologize for failing to honor Jamie. No, it was to chastise me for making a social media post that would criticize his organization. He said that he and Basil (the 24 Hours of Booty CEO) discussed this before the event and decided not to honor her. As he said, “everybody honors somebody.”
Remembering Jamie
Yes, I followed a woman who had pictures of her cats that she had lost to cancer. Jamie’s life was way more important than those cats. The CEO also said I should have talked to him. I pointed out that neither he nor his COO or anyone from the organization bothered to show up. They just wanted us to fundraise so they could cash the check and continue to live in their McMansions on horse farms in Howard County.
The end
It would be the last time I raised money for this event.
I suggested to (encouraged, begged) Team Portland that the best cycling route from Bedford to Ligonier would be US 30. That route is less than 48 miles with 5,000′ of climb. I was eating breakfast with my parents when Aaron Hoxworth texted me and told me they were already wheels down and headed for Rte 31 and not Rte 30.
Out the door I got a boost from my dad as we drove to the end of Longview or the Seven Mile Stretch on US 30 and began my day. It was chilly with some rain in the air. I headed down the mountain to Shellsburg, stopping to take pictures along the way. I rode through Shawnee State Park and got on the road behind the cyclists at first catching four girls, er, young women.
Shawnee State Park
Approaching New Baltimore they at first continued straight on 31. I saw the chalk on the road for a turn and called them back. It wouldn’t have been a disaster had I not been with them. Pa. Bike Rte S leaves Rte 31 for a bit but does come back into it. They would have had much of their climbing on the busy Rte 31. But if they had a check point in New Baltimore they wouldn’t have passed it.
It’s about one mile farther to follow the bike route (8 vs 7) up the mountain but the difference is enormous. Rte 31 is a busy road which climbs and descends at the same time. It kicks your butt. The bike route, once the climb begins, continues climbing. It is 7.6 miles with 979′ of gain (2.4%) to where the routes intersect (not the top of the mountain). Rte 31 (Glades Pike) is 6.7 miles with 1273′ of gain (3.6%). Harder, for sure. It rides much steeper, of course. The climbing portion of the bike route is 4.6 miles (797 or 3.3%) which is still easier. And to the top it is 6 miles at 1340′ (4.2%) but there are sections of 10-12%.
Kelsey Taylor, Patrica Martinez, Helen Smith, Katrina Farrell
In New Baltimore I called them back to a covered bridge which they missed. Slow down. Take pictures. Enjoy the ride.
Kelsey Taylor
Katrina Farrell had flatted at the base of the climb and the support van swung back. While they were changing the flat (unlike Sunday and yesterday I didn’t help preferring that they gain the experience) I was talking to Chelsea Johnson, one of the support drivers. I asked for turn by turn directions for the day and after Somerset was told they were headed somewhere (my term) connecting with a Pennsylvania Trail System to Linn Run State Park.
Patricia Martinez
That was neat except it wasn’t. In the early 70s we lived on Linn Run Road. I know the lower section in Rector, Pa. to be good, the section in the state park to be paved but bad (rough pave), and the section above it to be dirt and gravel. Further, I was 99% sure that any trail system was for snowmobiles. Or hunting and hiking. Maybe mountain bikes could get through.
Katrina Farrell
A slight panic set in as Chelseaasked “what do we do now?” I knew nothing more to tell them to do except ride and see what happens. I decided I would ride to Somerset then back to Friedens and call it a day. I didn’t want to climb and descend on the route I envisioned – a route to nowhere.
Rte 31 was busy with lots of truck traffic. It is the route between two turnpike towns, Bedford and Somerset. Rte 30 has some truck traffic but much less. Rte 31, although signed as Bike Rte S was not an enjoyable ride.
PA Rte 31
Up ahead, the group containing Jamie Roberts, Ki Young Kim, and Dan Johnson had stopped for a rider who needed sagged. She was hurting and openly wrote on her blog that she did no preparation for the ride, in fact, her longest ride ever before Sunday was 12 miles. Be forewarned. I shook my head. Why an organization would simply take someone’s money without ensuring they met training metrics is almost beyond me. Almost.
Our group stopped with them for a necessary hygiene break. But when Jamie’s group, down to three riders, was ready to roll and the four young women I was riding with weren’t — they were enjoying the grass and the shade of the barn they were relaxing next to — I went with the first three.
Jamie Roberts, Betsy Sherry, Ki Young Kim, Dan Johnson
We passed Aaron’s group (flat) and rolled towards Somerset. As we descended into town I had us stop at my sister, Betsy’s, house. I thought we would do a quick photo op outside the house thinking Betsy would not be home but she had just gotten home. She welcomed Jamie inside and Jamie got clean indoor plumbing and ice in her water bottles. We stood in the yard and got to watch the other teams go by. As we rolled out, in last, we all met at Sheetz. My advice had been “never pass up a Sheetz.”
Jamie Roberts, Ki Young Kim, Barry Sherry, Dan Johnson
While at Sheetz the riders’ phones blew up with a group message which basically stated the van went ahead and that there was no road or trail system which the riders had planned on. Ah, Google Maps.
Aaron turned to me and asked if I knew how to get them to Ligonier? Although I had decided to stop in Somerset I thought it best to ride with them to Ligonier.
We went up Rte 985 where miles of construction work was taking place. Although we had been split into groups, we came back together at the work site. I had everyone roll out together as I took them around some of the construction using known back roads. Back on 985 we started to separate so we stopped once more to reconstitute. At this point I told the riders I was going to navigate a little by memory and a lot by feel. We turned left into an unincorporated community (Gray) and made our way over to Rte 30.
One rider was struggling and so we were missing two at this point. From our vantage point, we could see the next turn about 1/2 mile ahead in the valley below. I gave Aaron the simple directions (“turn right then follow the road”) and I dropped back while sending the other 10 riders ahead with Aaron.
I met up with Caitlyn Epps who was sagging the struggling rider. We lost a lot of time waiting and I was convinced that by the time I got to US 30 all the riders would be at the summit. Or over the top. I was surprised that as I climbed I caught and passed five riders. I think a lot of riders were beat up by then riding three days in the mountains.
At the summit I led the first group of four down the mountain. I averaged 37.5 mph for the entire descent. I need to up that. In Laughlingtown riders kept coming so we formed a big group and rolled into Ligonier together.
The Diamond in Ligonier
It was a hard day but didn’t need to be so hard. Rte 30 may not look so appealing but in addition to being much shorter, it is full of wonderful things to be discovered. Flight 93 memorial. A 1930s gas pump painted like the Indiana Chief Tecumseh. Another as Vincent Van Gas. The Pied Piper. My mind went to how this could be a scavenger hunt and 20 miles shorter.
Last year I rode my first 24 Hours of Booty not knowing anyone in attendance other than through a cyber invitation from Bryan McMillan. We had never met before then. But I had a good time and soon discovered some of the summer cancer riders were there as well.
Team Fight
This year I decided to be a team captain. Officially we were Team Jake’s Snazzy Pistols, in honor and in memory of Jake “The Hero” Grecco. I signed up his step-father, Gary Gravina, my sister, Betsy Sherry, and John Phipps, a friend I met a couple of years ago while riding the Saint Mary’s Century (or was it the Southern Maryland Century?).
Barry, Betsy, John
A couple of days before the event I heard from Gary who mixed up the event dates and could not attend. That was a big set back. But I still looked forward to the event. Our pistols wouldn’t be as snazzy now.
Early morning in Bootyville
Last year I knew no one in advance. This year some of my Key West teammates attended as well as last year’s cancer riders, Jeff Graves and Erin Mack.
I decided to tent, still not sure that was a good idea, but arrived early enough to set up the tent. With not much time before the start, I joined fellow survivors at the front of the line for the Survivor Lap, which I think is really half a lap. Meg Shipman, Paul Lemle, Jessica Tanner, and Thomas Backof from the Key West ride, all were at the front.
After the first lap (I won) I dropped back and rode with my sister. I introduced her to all my friends I could find. While I rode at a decent pace, I talked more than I did last year and didn’t rack up the miles. I also had more fun.
I carried a wooden “train” whistle. As I approached the kids that were riding I gave it my best train whistle sound. That always got smiles. It slowed me down but that was OK.
I was invited to the Yellow Jersey Dinner and took Betsy as my guest. It was the same dinner menu as the other riders got but with speakers. Less riding.
My wind fairing (deflector)
After 6:00 p.m., my friend, Adam Lewandowski, came over from Race Pace Bicycles to work and brought a Trek Domane for me to test ride. Even less riding while we switched pedals and put my lights on that bike.
By 9:00 p.m. John had reached 100 miles and was checking out for the night. He had a hotel. I was envious. Real envious.
Last year I rode until the Midnight Pizza arrived and my light gave out. I had 120 miles at that point. This year I had to lift the pace to get 100 miles before midnight. After Midnight Pizza I decided to get some sleep. This would not be the year I would actually ride for 24 hours. I don’t know if I would try that. Maybe some day.
By 6:00 a.m. I was awake and went out on the course at 6:30.
Breakfast, by invitation, was a Survivors Breakfast. It was the same breakfast (menu) as everyone else got but we had speakers. More down time. This is not to diminish the speakers. They were all good.
After breakfast I had a great surprise. Last year Team Portland was greatly effected by Jake’s story, and ultimately, his passing. I had met Jake’s Pedal Pal, Chey Hillsgrove, on the day they left Baltimore, but had been friended on Facebook by one of the riders, Trish Kallis.
And after breakfast there she (Trish) was. She called my name. I was taken aback certainly not expecting to see her here. It was great to finally meet her.
Trish and Barry
Late morning we tore down our campsite. More time off the bike. But I rode when I could. Ultimately I got in another 41 miles before we all joined in for the last lap at 2:00 p.m.
Great weather, great friends, and fighting cancer. It really doesn’t get any better than this.
Last year’s “First Ride With Dad” was such a success that my sister, Betsy, and I decided to do it again. She rode the Great Allegheny Passage trail from Frostburg, Maryland and I parked in Rockwood and rode to Meyersdale where we told our father to meet us.
Betsy Sherry and Rev. Harry C. Sherry
I screwed it up last year thinking Frostburg was at a higher elevation than Frostburg. So we left Frostburg and rode much of our planned route uphill. I could not do that to Dad again.
Casselman River
I chose today’s route, this time fully aware of the elevation change between Meyersdale and Rockwood (trending downhill). And I wanted my dad to ride across the great Salisbury Trestle, a 2,000 foot span that crosses the Cassleman River and US Rte 219.
We were high up on the trestle. It is about 200 feet above the valley below. It was windy and I was afraid my dad might clip his handlebars on the side of the bridge. But we made it through safely.
Betsy and Dad taking a break
There are a couple of cuts in rock croppings but for sheer beauty the section between Meyersdale and Rockwood doesn’t quite compare to some of the other sections.
Just three weeks earlier my father had three stents placed in his heart and at age 84, was riding on the GAP. Not too shabby. He wanted to stop three or four times to rest and it was no problem.
Harry Sherry and Betsy Sherry
When we finished at Rockwood we met a dad with two kids. He and his daughter agreed to take our picture.
Sculpture and his daughter, Rockwood, Pa.
There are a couple of bike sculptures in Rockwood. Turns out this man was the creator. He offered to take our picture by them but we didn’t. In retrospect, since he was the creator, we should have, but he didn’t tell us until after we said we didn’t want to walk to them.
I wasn’t sure that I would get back here. I was here to attend a fundraiser last night for Jake Grecco, a 7-year old battling brain cancer — he’s also the son of my 4th cousin, Stacey Lowmaster. After the fundraiser when Stacey asked if we would like to meet Jake. All cycling was off. Jake trumps cycling every time.
L-R: Gary Gravina, Betsy Sherry, Stacey Gravina, Jake Grecco, Barry Sherry
After a wonderful morning visiting Jake and his family, then saying goodbye to my sister, Betsy, I realized I still had just enough time to return and finish yesterday’s ride. It was windy but not with the unsafe gusts of yesterday. The route, downloaded to my Garmin, proved to be one with lots of turns. I had no idea where I was going – In Garmin We Trust.
Valley Preferred Velodrome, Trexlertown, Pa.
I retraced yesterday’s attempted route for six miles and then went down some new roads. I had hoped to ride 26 miles without putting a foot down but when I came to a beautiful barn I knew I had to stop to take some pictures.
A barn
I found a unique shed with implements attached to the outside. I stopped at the foot of the driveway then asked permission “to come aboard.” The owner was very pleased that I asked permission to photograph his shed and glad that I found it interesting.
Longswamp B&B
Near Kutztown I realized I was in Amish Country. I passed an Amish wood working shop then met a group of cyclists coming in the opposite direction. They had good form but wore no helmets. They were on road bikes but wore no “fancy” cycling clothes. Then I realized they were young Amish men returning from church. I wanted a photo but respected their beliefs and simply waved. And they waved back.
I turned down a country road and spotted two women with three large dogs. And I had to go past them. I love dogs but still remember my encounter in 2010 in which two Rottweillers tried to get to know me better. I didn’t want to pedal past them and trigger a chase reaction. Well, a chase and bite reaction.
Amish School
I slowed then called out “safe to pass?” One of the women said it was although the three dogs were running loose. They may have had different ideas. So I stopped. The women gathered up the dogs and two of them came over to sniff me and say hello.
We were friends. At this point, I was about three miles from the finish. I just pedaled home thankful for another day on the bike. After returning home, I found out from my cousin, Doug Sherry, that I had passed about two miles from his house. I feel so bad. Next time he better have food waiting.
We, or at least I, have a saying: There are three types of riding – “Safe, unsafe, and stupid.” And often the line between unsafe riding and stupid riding is blurred.
I came to Trexlertown, Pa. which is home to the famous Valley Preferred Cycling Center’s Velodrome. It was cold (38°) and windy (winds were steady at 30-40 mph with gusts even higher). I had budgeted time to ride before meeting my sister, Betsy, in Allentown.
Sorry, folks! America’s Favorite Velodrome is Closed for the Season.
Snow was blowing. The roads were bare so the snow wasn’t sticking but it was blowing. And here in the mecca of east coast cycling, I saw no one.
I took my time. I didn’t want to go out in this weather but knew I must. Ten minutes passed. The van was rocking from the wind and I could feel the cold air blowing in. I didn’t want to go but yet…
…I was here and it was time to MAN UP!!
Trexlertown, Pa.
Then I saw three cyclists arrive and that was my cue. If they could ride, I had no excuses. I kitted up and headed off. I had briefly thought about asking to join them but figured they were stronger than me. Plus I am nursing a torn meniscus so I didn’t need to push it to keep up.
I headed off into the wind. And it was strong. I had downloaded a ride that was on RideWithGPS to my Garmin bike computer with just the right distance (28 miles) and turns (a bunch) to be interesting. After 3-4 miles of fighting the winds I saw three cyclists coming at me and they were soft-pedaling. It was the three guys that had been in the parking lot.
Angry flags whipping in the cold air
My thought only turned to how slow they were going, with the wind, and me kicking myself knowing I could stay with them. I regretted not going with them.
I then hit the open road unprotected by houses or trees; just open fields. The winds were howling. At times they were incredibly loud and other times there was an eerie silence. Down the road, a gust hit me and almost caused me to crash. I fought with both hands to steer and although I stayed upright, I had been blown across both lanes of the country road. Had another car been passing me, or another one been coming from the opposite direction, I would have been in a crash with an automobile. It was scary that I could not steer the bike in a straight line. Nor could I hear cars coming because the winds were howling so loud.
This was stupid riding. I guess it took me to realize that it was stupid to know that it was unsafe. And it was very unsafe. At that point, I decided I had to turn around.
I was determined to retrace some of my route but also to follow road signs for the shortest way back to the start. And then I discovered why my three friends were going slow even with a tailwind. They couldn’t hold their bikes in a straight line. I thought a tailwind was a reward for fighting the wind but today it was no reward. Today it was a menace.
In a year in which all my rides thus far went a minimum of 16 miles, I had to cut this off at 11 for which I was thankful. I was smart enough to park the bike knowing I can ride another day.
Now stupid riding was yesterday. Bob Ryan (NBC meteorologist) had forecast a high of 70° and I came prepared for 70°. It never got out of the 50s and I headed out for a ride in the pouring rain. Stupid.
I went around Hains Point and was soaked. What was the point? I hadn’t done a ride all year less than 16 miles and riding in the cold rain became a matter of pride. I couldn’t let this be the shortest ride of the year. So I suffered on. Yesterday was stupid.
Today — today was simply unsafe. It is why it was the shortest ride of the year although in a few days when I start evening rides I will go shorter.
This area is beautiful. I would like to return some other day but without these winter winds.
EDIT/EPILOGUE – This was my first day riding, or attempting to ride, at the Velodrome in Trexlertown. Cancer sucks but it has also giving me lots of opportunities and friendships that I otherwise would not have had. One of those has been an annual trip to Trexlertown with Spokes of Hope. I would come back to the Velodrome late each summer and have a chance to ride on the track as well as a Saturday morning group ride to Topton and back.
