Martinsburg - peaceonabike

July 22, 2015July 23, 2015

Three Mountains

CLAYSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA

Exploring. I enjoy riding new roads and sometimes just will map out a new ride and go exploring.

Starting in Sproul, Pa., which I guess is a suburb of Claysburg (this is humor, folks), I mapped out a route over Blue Knob, down to Newry, then over Locke Mountain, through Martinsburg, then back over Sproul Mountain. I knew the course over Blue Knob then down through the valley. In all, I was familiar with 24 of the 57 miles so 33 of the miles would be exploring.

I started at Sheetz. (Where else?) I requested and received permission to park my car to go for a bike ride. I was hoping for four and a half hours.

I left Sproul, went through Queen and into Blue Knob State Park. This route was new to me. There was a nifty little 1/2 mile climb at 15-17% at Mile 5. Unexpected.

This was followed by a one mile climb into the forest and Blue Knob State Park. Then there was a one mile descent to Pavia at which time I realized my brakes need changed. Oops.

In Pavia I turned right and was back in familiar territory – the climb to Blue Knob. There were long sections of 12% grade and it was buggy. In the shade, which was plentiful, there were flies and gnats around my eyes. Damn insects.

I had mapped my ride to continue to Knob Run Road but at the last moment, turned right to climb all the way to the ski area. It was very windy at the summit, in fact, even at 70 degrees, I was starting to get cold since I was in a soaking wet kit (with sweat).

Back on course I saw the sign – “Fresh Oil.” Oh boy. A fresh tar and chip road. It wasn’t bad and ended when I crossed Johnstown Road (164).

I descended Knob Run Road, the same road that Chelsea Johnson, Chey Hillsgrove, and I climbed last week, being chased by a storm. I had better weather today and I was going down – not up.

I turned on Tel-Power Road and was surprised when I passed Winsome – a gated house, which is really, a gated horse farm. Sorry, no pictures.

I came to Locke Mountain Road and looked at the ridge which I knew I would cross. I could see a tower at the top and a cut in the mountain which I knew was the road. OK.

Once the climb began in earnest, my GPS was sort of stuck on 12% for two miles. And using numbers from the road itself I calculate the climb was 10.2%.

Over the top it was a nice descent, although with squishy brakes. I turned on Pa. 866 which was a signed Pa. Bike Route. No shoulders but light traffic. It was a seven mile run-in to Martinsburg, sort of lumpy, passing corn fields most of the way.

In Martinsburg, I stopped at Subway, mainly to refill my water bottles but I also bought a Coke and a cookie and sat down to eat it. The “water” lever on the soft drink machine is shared with Lemonade. I think the line had Lemonade in it because one bottle tasted more like Lemonade than water. And I didn’t want Lemonade, but I’m not mad.

I watched my Garmin as I navigated to Sproul Mountain, swearing every time I saw a rise ahead. Sproul Mountain wasn’t long but it was steep, especially the lower slopes. I passed the KOM-9 start, assume it was there from the Central Pa. Century Challenge, run by my friend, Richard Fiore.

The climb is one mile in length. I calculate it to be 7.6% with the lower section steeper than the upper portion. Over the top I got in a tuck and hit 48 mph (47.95). I probably could have pushed it to 50 but remember the advice of Wayne Stetina who told me two years ago he never bombs a descent he doesn’t know. Speed was not an issue today.

I finished at Sheetz and my legs felt like they have been through the wringer. Either 5800 or 5900′ of gain over 57 miles. Only Grand Mesa, in Colorado, was harder this year. This ride, simply, was a good challenge.

June 27, 2012July 23, 2015

Riding for Jake

CHARLES TOWN, WV

I was excited this morning because I wanted to take a page out of the book of my friends doing the 4K for Cancer ride across the United States. Each day these 90 young people write the name of a cancer patient or survivor or someone who has lost the battle on their calves. I had my son-in-law, Bryan Snow, write the name of Jake Grecco, a true super hero, on my calves.

Just 8 years old and battling brain cancer, Jake has taken chemo, radiation, and even brain surgery in stride. Weakened by my lengthy rides, I felt energized today riding with Jake’s name on my calves.

I arranged to meet with old friend and co-worker, John Dockins, in front of the Trek Tent, and we rolled out at 7:30 a.m. On the road he started to hammer it although we settled into a good pace (which means we passed everybody) but we were joined by two others. For the first 15 miles four of us worked together in the heavy winds, which would be present all day.

Following a tractor. You know, we go the same speed
as a tractor but nobody yells or throws things at a tractor.

We had caught a tractor pulling some machinery at 20-22 mph. Perfect. We pulled in behind him and he created the perfect wind block. We rode in his draft for about two miles before he turned off. Rest Stop #1 was at the Summit Point Raceway. It was pretty cool. Some riders took to the race track for extra miles.

Rest Stop at Summit Point

Rolling out of the rest stop, we formed a new group with some men and women and hammered home with them. After the second rest stop, it got real funky.

Almost from the start today my legs hadn’t recovered. I thought my body was weakening having ridden 300 miles in three days.

John took off from Rest Stop #2 dropping me. I was never more than 50-100 meters behind him but there the two of us went, passing everyone along the way, John, followed by me, trailing 50-100 meters later. The wind was very heavy and John seemed stronger cutting through the wind than I did. I chased for six miles, never pulling him back but never closing the gap. And I was getting pissed.

I wondered what he was thinking and later he said he thought I had dropped back to talk to some people and would catch him when I wanted to. I wasn’t buying that. In this wind he was stronger.

John Dockins, Barry Sherry

Although the two of us had been passing people for six miles, I was going nowhere until I was passed by two riders. That quickly became three when I jumped on their wheels. Perfect.

It was the perfect tow back up to John. As we got ready to pass him I tried to sneak past without him seeing me. But he did and he jumped on and briefly made four in our group.

But shortly after that the two guys in front passed a car that was going slow up a hill and I joined them. John initially came but clunked his gears and he was gone. Just like that.

If John truly thought that I was behind him and could catch him anytime I feel like it what I did then was a crappy move. But if he was going full out in the wind without regard for his friend then it was payback. Big time.

We joined up with some other riders and alternated the workload. One guy came to the front with about three miles to go to the rest stop and hammered it. He was a big rider and was “nose in the wind” going about 23 mph. I sat second wheel and felt like half the time I was coasting.

This guy (left) rocked it! Best “pull” of the five days.

After a lunch break, we hit the road. After 43 miles of hammering, it was time for solo work. John and I left the rest stop for one mile then he would take the cutoff road and skip the climbing loop. I turned onto the climb. It was a formidable two and a half mile hill, and one by one I started passing people on the climb. I’m sure I didn’t catch everyone, but I passed five or six and wasn’t passed by anyone.

Once over the top I bombed the descent and caught and passed 15-20 riders in the valley leading to the next rest stop.

At the stop one woman saw Jake’s name on my legs and made a smart ass comment: “Do you name your shoes too so you can get the right legs in the right shoes?”

I was pissed. And hurt. I told her quietly that I was riding for my 8-year old cousin who was battling brain cancer.

I carried that with me the rest of the ride. The thought was we need fewer smart asses in this world and more compassion. I wanted to tell her off but the comment was made by, well, a smart ass trying to be funny and not with malice. Her group took off while I sat down and ate some food.

When I left the rest stop I wanted nothing more than to catch the woman who insulted my family. They were long gone but I that didn’t stop me from trying.

I immediately hit the next hill. It was a shorter, one and a half miles, but steeper climb. There I passed by 10-15 riders on the climb and, over the top, bombed the descent. Once in the valley I started reeling in riders in front of me – maybe another 30.

Going through Martinsburg was like old home week to me since I know the area pretty well. Hitting the bike trail outside of town I passed 40-50 riders and was passed by none. I really felt strong in miles 80-90. Seriously, in the last 40 miles I was passed by no one.

Getting back, I sat down and ate lunch at the Bike Virginia campus. When it was time to roll out I needed 10 more miles for 100 and 15 for 400 for four days. As good as I felt in miles 80-90, I felt that bad for the next 10 miles. It hit me. I was tired. But I was riding for Jake. And I would finish.

I added enough miles to give me another century then went to Ashley and Bryan’s place and laid down on the floor. I fell asleep. Three centuries in four days. Four hundred miles in four days.

I was very tired.

May 5, 2011August 13, 2021

Shepherdstown Loop

RANSON, WEST VIRGINIA

A windy day with temperatures in the 70s. I left Ranson and rode on Flowing Springs Road.

Bad roads come in different shapes and sizes and this is a bad road. It’s a two-lane country road with blind curves and no shoulders. A safe speed may be 45 mph but this is signed for 55 and the cars probably do 60-65. I would not recommend riding this road again. There must be a better way.

Rolling into Shepherdstown and I thought how much money I spent here. Eight years’ of college tuition payments for Bethany and Ashley. It is a lovely Civil War era town but goes back to the founding of the country when some lawmakers pushed for Shepherdstown to be the Nation’s Capital.

I followed country roads past Cress Creek golf club and the doubled back to Martinsburg.

Leaving Martinsburg, I took the bike path back to Ranson. The new Rte 9 recently opened the entire way from Charles Town to Martinsburg and features a bike path that parallels it. I was alone.

It was windy and after the ride, I felt whipped. But it was a day on the bike which beats a day on the sofa.

June 22, 2001September 16, 2020

Washington DC to Pittsburgh – Day 2

SHEPHERDSTOWN, WV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE ACCIDENT (THE FALL OF ANDREW)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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