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.
Main – Shepherdstown, WV
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.
Bike path, Martinsburg, WV
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.
SHEPHERDSTOWN, WV — I was up around 7:00 a.m. and was prepared to leave by 8:00. I wanted to be quiet and went about filling my Camelbak with the ice and water that Bethany had filtered the night before. Bethany got up and saw me off. I rode off to Sheetz and bought a Gatorade and breakfast sandwich. After eating, I rode again by Bethany’s apartment and Ashley’s dorm at Shepherd University.
I crossed the bridge on Rte 65 from Shepherdstown into Maryland then descended the steep hill back to the canal. This time I rode the brakes careful not to outride them. I safely descended the hill and turned on the access road that parallels the canal for three miles. I came to the Antietam Creek aqueduct, one of the best-preserved water crossings on the canal. This was the point that Andrew and I reached two years ago before breaking my rear wheel (we call it taco). Having reached this point I had ridden from Pittsburgh to D.C., at least in parts.
A band of heavy thunderstorms had moved through late yesterday and the canal was showing it. Much of the canal has returned to its natural forested state, albeit with a canal depression. Where the canal contains water is a little more out in the open than the forested sections. Heavier than normal spring rains followed by a somewhat rainy summer had left the canal towpath in wet shape.
Because of miles of forest cover, the canal has not had a chance to dry out. The first section to Harpers Ferry wasn’t too bad. As I approached Harpers Ferry I expected that I would see more people as this section is very popular with tourists. I did.
The Potomac River at Harpers FerryTrain Bridge at Harpers Ferry
I stopped briefly at Harpers Ferry and climbed up the railroad bridge that crosses the Potomac River into town. Here two tracks exit the railroad tunnel and one has a great view of the river and the Shenandoah River entering the Potomac at this location. I went back to my bike and headed south again. I was still having problems sitting in the saddle (saddle sores) but I knew it would be my last day.
I started hitting stretches of good trail for 200-300 yards then had to ride through a 15-foot puddle. It was a killer to try to gain any speed. One shouldn’t need to brake on a path but I was constantly applying the brakes so as not to get too muddy.
Just south of Brunswick about 15 girls came running up the towpath. This was the girls’ cross country team from Brunswick high school. A few minutes later an adult running group came through as well.
Brunswick, Maryland Train Station (Photo 2021)
It was getting muddier as I approached Point of Rocks. This location is always neat to view. Here the river and a sheer rock cliff are almost side by side. The railroad was in a legal battle with the canal for this piece of land. The canal won and built next to the river and the railroad tunneled through it. After the canal shut down the railroad acquired the right of way, filled in the canal and put a railroad track around the mountain. Here you really do have one track around the mountain and one through it.
Point of Rocks, Md. (Photo Sept. 2020)
It was getting muddier and I was not making good time. I had forgotten where the Monacacy River Aqueduct was and was surprised when I came upon it. I walked my bike across the aqueduct (required) and continued south.
Monocacy Aqueduct (Photo Sept. 2020)
Around 12:30 I reached White’s Ferry where an important decision would be made. Ride to Virginia or continue on into D.C on the C&O?
Whites Ferry (Photo Sept. 2020)
White’s Ferry has operated for years and is the only operating ferry north of D.C. on the Potomac River. To cross into Virginia would be to pay the $1 toll and then ride about three miles into Leesburg. At Leesburg, one can pick up the paved Washington and Old Dominion Rail Trail which runs slightly downhill to Shirlington, about four miles from D.C. So here was the situation. The paved road would be easier riding, much easier riding, but is also out in the open and hotter. Plus there are a lot of users on the W&OD including roadies who fly by, heads down, checking their cadence.
This may be a once-in-a-lifetime experience and there would be some who would suggest that I really didn’t ride Pittsburgh to D.C. if I didn’t continue to Washington. Having talked with some other riders at Whites Ferry, I decided to continue on the towpath. I refreshed by grabbing a quick bite at the store then headed south again.
Historic Whites Ferry Store and Restaurant (Photo: Sept. 2020)
Some riders I met here were pretty muddy. I figured they must have been ahead of me coming down from Harpers Ferry. I told them I hoped they came from the north but they said they actually came from the south and were going back. They asked how far I had ridden this day and I told them almost 40 miles from Shepherdstown. We were at MP 35 so I was more than halfway home on this day. They were impressed and even more so when I told them I started out from Pittsburgh on Tuesday.
As they started riding I decided to tag along. They waited for me and allowed me to ride with them. It was a welcome invitation. We chatted along the way but we rode fast. Where I had been struggling, and indeed had yet to settle into a rhythm in the saddle down to Whites Ferry, I sat up on my saddle and matched their quick pace. And it felt good.
The two riders were probably in their mid-40s and mid-50s. The younger one was named “Trace” and he set a great pace. But he didn’t lead right away. His friend did and they took turns setting the pace for me. Our second rider crashed in one of the muddy spots. The trail was treacherous.
When you approached a mud hole there were two choices. Ride through it or ride around it. Riding around it was preferred but on either side were trees. It wasn’t as simple as riding on level ground to traverse the mud hole. If you went around it often the path went on an angle next to the trees and one could not ride just sitting up. If you did the back wheel would slide off the hill and you could crash. That’s what happened to our first rider. He wasn’t hurt, just covered with mud.
Trace took over the pace-setting and picked some wicked lines through the mud. Sometimes in 15 yards, we would swing wide right, then swing all the way through the mud to the extreme left. I had to follow their line. Only occasionally did I choose to ignore the line Trace had selected and chose my own. When I did I was right.
We rode together for most of 15 miles to Seneca. At the end, I thanked them so much and regret that I did not get their names. They were the George Hincapie to my Lance Armstrong, and I’m no Lance Armstrong. But what a difference riding with a pacesetter means where I didn’t have to do the work. One doesn’t have to be traveling 30 mph into a headwind to appreciate someone riding in front of you. Even on this day with no wind just riding behind someone made a world of difference. It really lifted my spirits and I now had 50 miles behind me and was looking forward to the last 20.
After my pace setters left it wasn’t far before I saw a woman pedaling slowly ahead of me. The towpath was getting very crowded as there were many entrance points from here to D.C. So it was not unusual to see other riders and there were bike rental locations nearby. But I recognized the two bags hanging off her bike. I came up behind her and said “You need to pedal faster than that if you’re going to get home today, DIANNE.” She looked was completely surprised. She thought I was headed home on the W&OD. And she was tired.
But we both picked up our pace. We passed Swains Lock and Seven Locks. We took a detour around a rocky section. Near the end of our trips, we came to the Capital Crescent Trail. Here Dianne was headed home to Chevy Chase and I was headed into D.C. We said goodbye and went our separate ways.
I thought about how to handle my last two miles. Should I go slow and savor the moment that I had completed this journey or should I ride quickly to the finish? I decided to ride it fast.
I had ridden 350 miles over rail trails and backcountry roads in Pennsylvania and the entire length of the C&O Canal. I had seen many types of animals including numerous turtles and deer, otters, turkeys, and herons. But one thing I hadn’t seen was a snake. That was about to change.
Just in front of me on the trail was a snake. Not any snake but a poisonous copperhead. In D.C. no less. For the couple of miles I had switched to the Capital Crescent trail which is right beside the Potomac River. Just beside the trail was the C&O. The snake was crossing the trail and another cyclist stopped to protect it and other riders. He made sure no one accidentally hit the snake and it moved on safely in the weeds next to the river.
I rode the last mile and then all-too-quickly came to Georgetown. That was it. I wanted to scream because the trip was over. I did ask someone if this was it (the end of the route). They said it was. (What I didn’t know was there was a Milepost 0 post near the Kennedy Center which I did not find.)
There was a great sense of accomplishment having just completed the route but part of me wondered if there was more. Wanted there to be more. It really was all about the journey and not the destination.
I meandered over to the river area near the Kennedy Center and asked a man to take my picture. I rode about six blocks over to the Foggy Bottom Metro stop. There was a street vendor and I was looking for food. But they were sold out so I just bought a celebratory Mountain Dew. This was it. I put my bike on the Metro and headed to Virginia.
Barry at the Kennedy Center
EPILOGUE
Mistakes – I made a Few
Training, training, training.
I made a few mistakes on this ride but none more critical than not training.
I did not ride enough before the trip. The summer of 2003 was not one in which I had done much bike riding. My business trip to Pittsburgh came without much advance notice and it was only then that I decided I would ride back home on a bike. I did not prepare my body for the rigors of being on a saddle more than six hours a day.
This ride should be within any cyclist’s capability but in 2003 I would not be considered a cyclist. Just an average guy determined to ride from Pittsburgh to D.C.
I gutted it out the entire trip and was suffering greatly. I could barely walk my legs and butt hurt so bad. When I went to sign the receipt in Somerset after the first day I noticed I could barely hold a pen in my hands. Both hands went numb on this trip.
The numbness in my hands (ulnar neuropathy) perhaps would not have occurred or I would have noticed it before the trip and got better fitted on my bike to prevent it. But I think it occurred because my butt hurt so bad I ended up out of the saddle way too much. The result was my weight was more on my hands than on my butt. It would be many months before the numbness eventually went away.
My second major mistake was dealing with food and water. I thought I would be able to get enough water and food along the route but that was harder than I thought.
On the first day out of Pittsburgh, my Camelbak was full of clothes so I did not have room for water. That was a major mistake. There simply weren’t enough places along the route to Ohiopyle to get water. Eating properly the night and even days before is important. Wings and fries are not long-distance food.
On the first day, I was “in difficulty” but did not feel hungry. Yet I knew to stop at Cedar Creek Park for a quick bite.
Generally, I never had a chance to eat on the trail. After the first day, I added Granola bars to my pack which helped. On Day 2, I ate at a Subway in Meyersdale, a stop I had preplanned. On Day 3, I hoped to eat at Bills in Orleans but his store was closed. I missed the exit to go into Paw Paw, WV. On Day 4, I missed the opportunity to stop at Williamsport and hoped to eat before Shepherdstown but that store on the towpath was closed as well.
I didn’t plan as well as I could have because I had ridden many of these sections before and I thought I knew them. I was wrong. My weekend rides in which these stores were open were the extent of my planning for food. On Day 5, I did grab a very bad hot dog at Whites Ferry. And a cold Gatorade.
If there was a third mistake it was riding solo. I found it was so much easier to ride with someone, especially when someone else was setting a faster pace. Even if not pace setting, just being with another person takes one mind off the suffering. Plus, in case of an accident, and I barely saved one on the canal on Day 4, there would be a person to help or summon help.
Finally, I did like my distance, an average of 70 miles per day. But I would want to ride from D.C. to Pittsburgh instead of Pittsburgh to D.C. It’s just more difficult the first two days to ride uphill from Pittsburgh to Frostburg. The “uphill” from D.C. to Cumberland is on the canal, one mile of flat followed by a 10-foot uphill. The section from Cumberland to Frostburg is a climb but is relatively short.
It was great to complete the trip and afterward said “never again.” But after a summer of riding more than 2,000 miles recovering from knee surgery, I am now in bike shape. And the trail calls to me again…
Probably the hardest thing about this trip is doing it alone. With each day in the saddle comes more soreness and one questions why I am doing this and the necessity of finishing it. If I was riding with a companion or group we would all be sharing the stories of our soreness but rally together. Riding alone I had no such support.
I left Hancock at 8:45 a.m., first stopping at Sheetz and taking on a Gatorade. I swung by the bike shop in town but noticed they did not open until 10:00. I decided to depart and not wait for the store to open. I left on the Western Maryland rail trail which parallels the canal for 9 miles. The advantage is that it is a paved trail — a good respite for a tired butt.
I had ridden this section of the canal before so I didn’t feel the need to stay on the path to accomplish anything. The paved path of the rail trail was welcomed although a number of tree roots were coming up under the trail in this section so it had its own series of speed bumps. When I reached the end of the trail I did not heed the sign warning of the end of the trail. I was hoping instead to follow a local road to Fort Frederick State Park. After riding on the road for 1.5 miles and seeing hills ahead I doubled back to the sign directing trail users back to the C&O.
Had I planned ahead, I could have stayed on the road into the park and reconnected with the trail. But I didn’t want to risk missing it and adding more miles to a sore body.
For the first 10 miles on this day I could not get comfortable in the saddle. It was easier to ride out of the saddle than siting down simply because of the pain. I became determined to ride the final 120 miles to D.C. out of the saddle if I had to. Once back on the trail I alternated a mile in the saddle and a mile out of the saddle.
For most cyclists, this trip is not a problem. I was suffering only because I did not training on the bike and only on a whim decided to ride home from Pittsburgh to D.C.
The first, and only, town I came to was Williamsport. I passed the one entrance point thinking there would be another. There wasn’t. I missed my opportunity to get lunch. Bad decsisions as to eating would continue to haunt me on this ride.
I knew somewhere south of Williamsport was a detour where the canal has washed away years ago. I kept riding waiting for the detour. As I moved south there was more activity on the river. As I approached Dam #4 the river became slow and deep. This was also a point where the canal disappeared although a path was in place, presumably not the original tow path. At a couple of points there were sheer rock cliffs on the left and the river on the right. The trail narrowed to one lane.
C&O Canal Towpath Near Williamsport, MD Yes, here it has been reduced to a ledge I came to the trail detour sign and had mixed feelings. Riding on the canal wasn’t easy with mile after mile of packed dirt. A paved road seemed like a great diversion. The tow path is at river level and the surrounding roads are much higher. One needs to climb out of the river valley. I started a climb up a 100 yard hill. I saw a German Shepherd waiting to greet this cyclist so I called to the grandma in the yard and asked if he was friendly. She said the dog was and he came over and greeted me. So did her four year old granddaughter. Then the woman asked if I was riding with a woman because a woman had just ridden by a few minutes earlier. That was all I needed to hear. A person!
I crested the hill and looked out ahead to see if I could find other riders. I couldn’t. I picked up my pace and within a mile I could see a single rider ahead. Like a predator chasing his prey, I sat up in the saddle and effortlessly pedaled until I caught her. She was surprised anyone was out on this road and I was more surprised to discover a woman riding solo out here. We talked and rode together for the rest of the day.
Dianne Rennackhad planned to ride the C&O Canal with two other friends. Just before the trip her friends dropped out so she was faced to quit or got it alone. She choose to ride it alone. On Thursday she started in Cumberland, a few hours behind me. She rode into Hancock in the evening and stayed at the same Super 8 Motel as me. On this day she left Hancock at 8:00 a.m. so she had a 45 minute lead on me. She was not managing a good pace and told me to ride ahead. I didn’t. I needed someone to ride with and the ride became much easier. We rode together for just one mile before we reached the hill descending back to the canal.
On Tuesday when I left Pittsburgh I wore my helmet. When I started cramping at mile 40 I knew I was dehydrating. Since I was on a trail and the helmet added to my heat, I removed my helmet and attached it to the back of my bike. I didn’t wear it the rest of the Allegheny Highlands Trail to Meyersdale but did put it on to ride in and from Meyersdale to Cumberland as I was sharing the road with cars. Or they were sharing with me and not always too kindly either. But once I reached the C&O Canal in Cumberland I removed the helmet again. On this day it was hot on the road but for the five mile detour I decided not to ride with my helmet.
We approached the top of the hill and were greeted by a sign warning of a steep descent and for bicyclists to dismount. There was no way I was going to dismount. I had ridden 150 miles from Pittsburgh to Frostburg, all uphill. And every chance to descend for free was going to be enjoyed. I was going to descend quickly even if for just 100 yards. I looked at Dianne and she said “go ahead.”
I let ‘er rip. I quickly was up to 32 mph and was looking at the bottom of the hill. A 90 degree right turn was staring me straight ahead with a guard rail protecting me from the forested canal. I applied the brakes and realized instantly that I was outriding my brakes. (I could not slow down quick enough to make the turn.) In what must have been just 1-2 seconds it seemed everything went before my eyes. I knew I was going to crash into the guard rail and I knew I was without a helmet. I was going to do my best to protect my head and I thought that my trip would end simply because I was enjoying my speed down the hill. There was gravel on the asphalt and my wheels locked up on the pavement. It sounded horrible — tires screeching and it was surprsingly loud.
I thought about Joseba Beloki crashing a few weeks earlier in the Tour de France. When he tried to turn on a hairpin curve his wheel slid on melting tar. In an instant his rear tire overheated and popped off the rim, leading to his horrific crash and leading to Lance Armstrong’s memorable detour. My tires were not as inflated as a road bikers and they did not explode. They screeched and I wobbled on my bike but somehow I saved it. I don’t know how I didn’t crash.
Beloki and Armstrong Source: Velonews Right before I was to crash into over the guard rail I slowed it down enough that I could turn. I was scared but had saved me and the bike. After 60 seconds later Dianne came creeping down the hill and looked at me. She said she heard my bike crash and asked if I was okay. I told her I didn’t know how I saved it but that I was okay.
Note to any and all who attempt this ride: If you don’t walk your bike down the hill as the signs suggest at least ride your brakes.
With the scare over for the day, we rode together to Shepherdstown. We both looked forward to a general store on the tow path where we could get a drink and something to eat. When we reached it we started down and across the canal. Then I looked up and saw the CLOSED sign in the window. Just like the store in Orleans, Md., this store was closed too. We were both disappointed but had no choice but to move on. At MP 72, Shepherdstown, we said goodbye, each glad that we had someone to ride with and both happy for we knew that we each rode together faster than we would have had we been riding alone. Dianne was headed on to Harpers Ferry while I was stopping to see my daughters, Ashley and Bethany, both living in Shepherdstown.
I had seen the typical wildlife along the canal that day but while riding together we did see one turkey on the trail. There’s something special about seeing a wild turkey, almost the symbol of our country.
To get to Shepherdstown, I had to climb the access road up to the bridge on Rte 65 that crossed the Potomac river. This is as steep as hill that I would encounter, worse than climbing Big Savage Mountain. But it wasn’t too long, maybe 300 yards at most. I put the bike in the granny gear and methodically climbed until I reached the top. A tractor, a tractor!, passed me on the way up and I was desperately thinking about grabbing on. But I didn’t.
At the top of the hill I stopped and pulled out my cell phone and called Ashley. I told her that I was in Maryland but would see her in five minutes. I crossed the bridge into West Virginia, passing the Shepherd College football stadium on the left immediately as I entered the state. A few hundred yards later I was at her dorm.
Ashley’s friend Beth came out to greet me with a pitcher of water. Beth said I stunk, and I did, so I asked her to arrange a shower for me. She did. I was able to shower in the men’s wing of the dorm and visited with Ashley and her friends until Bethany and Andy returned from working that day. The four of us then went to Ruby Tuesday in Martinsburg (Andy drove — I was done biking for the day). I spent the night at Bethany and Andy’s apartment. I told them that I would be up at daylight and gone.
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.
