And on the 6th day, I rode from West Newton back into Pittsburgh.
I had a really bad night of sleep. The undisclosed campground mentioned in my Day 5 post, plus those trains, really didn't work wonders for me.
When I woke, I pulled all my gear, including my tent, close to a pavilion that was on the campsite grounds, which let me spread my stuff out and let it dry a bit. I had two cups of coffee, and though I would have liked to have had an "Ohiopyle" style morning - i.e. sitting there meditating for a little while, gazing at the river - I was more in a mood to shake West Newton out of my system and get out of there.
So - after saying goodbye to that father / son combo, who were lingering making breakfast, I was pedaling by 7:00am.
And really, I simply pedaled until Boston, with little to report. In Boston they were having a trail appreciation event, so lots of cyclists had shown up and were zipping along the trail, which was different from those countless miles of isolated forest riding that had made up most of my days. I sat at a picnic table in Boston and ate some food, and bought a T Shirt to help support their trail day.
Then I just kept pedaling. The Trail turns into pavement almost immediately north of Boston, and is pavement all the way into the city except for a short stretch of gravel behind some condos along the way. I was probably at the Hot Metal Bridge by about 10:30am. I biked up Bates to my hotel, and found the car safe and sound (did I mention that the hotel let me leave my car with them for a week, for free?). I loaded my cargo trailer into the car and then said "hi" at the front desk just to make sure everything was okay, and then - no longer hauling the cargo trailer - I flew down Bates again back to the Eliza Furnace Trail.
I headed towards Point State Park along the trail, and near the Smithfield Street Bridge, where your route into the Park gets sketchy (not marked as far as I could see), I asked another cyclist if he knew the way into the park and to the trailhead.
And that led to my mini-tour of downtown Pittsburgh, hanging on to the rear-wheel of a guy named Rob! I honestly have no idea where he led me. We were on sidewalks, weaving through pedestrians, went by some fountains. All of it looked fun and interesting, but it also just whizzed right by, so I won't try to explain where I was. Here's my strava map of it:
Anyway - I was finally in Point State Park!
Rob - you'll never see this - but thanks so much for the tour, and the conversation, and saying "Yeah, I know how to get to Point State Park - follow me - I'll give you a tour!"
In the park, I wandered around a bit. At one point I left the fountain area to go to a concession stand I'd spotted, bought a coke, and started guzzling it down, and that is where the father-son cycling combo that I'd been seeing ever since the Husky Haven found me again. We shook hands and said "happy trails", and that was that.
Point of Confluence. Point State Park. Journey's End.
It was barely lunchtime yet, when I finished this ride, so I went over the Fort Pitt bridge to the south side, and cycled along the south side of the Monongahela River.
After getting back to the hotel, I showered, and wandered along Forbes Street, having a veggie burger and a beer at Stack'd Burgers, and then a massive ice cream cone at Dave and Andy's.
*
And so, journey's end.
I should re-read On the Road. See how that epic road trip comes to an end. I think Sal Paradise remembers his friend Dean Moriarty, lost somewhere in the swells and rolls of the prairies and rivers of America.
Dean was Sal's friend, but in some ways a ghost. And I think I was searching for some ghost on my way back into Pittsburgh. Scanning the faces of the cyclists coming by me. Wondering who they were. Perhaps the ghosts in our lives are ones that we need, and so we create them. Haunting us and keeping us company.
The miles rolled by on this trip of mine. And I enjoyed every pedal-stroke.
To everyone I met out there. To everyone whose hand I shook. Safe travels.
I still have to write up my Day 6 notes... the final day of my trip, which took me from West Newton into Pittsburgh.
In the meantime, I have cobbled together some of the footage I took into a quick video.
The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner is a book (or rather, a short story), and a film.
More than anything though, it a very evocative line. Especially if you are, or have been, a long distance runner.
I read the story ages ago, and I remember - having been drawn to it by the title, and the thought of solitude via athleticism - I remember being disappointed because it was really something else. A story about class, or boarding schools, or something... something that wasn't running.
Why it comes to mind though, as part of this GAP series, is how, when I encountered other travelers during my week on the GAP trail, it was evident that what we were all after was solitude.
(just north of the Salisbury Viaduct)
I'd meet someone, Troy at the KOA, Rowen in Cumberland, the former minister in Frostburg, the guy with the Surly at the KOA when I was northbound, and we'd talk, and it'be good. Where are you going? Where have you been? Had that bike long? You done a trip like this before? (and usually, after hearing my accent...) Where are you from?
So we'd talk, but, even if we realized that we were headed the same way, we'd leave wherever we were separately, because we respected each other's solitude. Respected each other's desire to ride alone.
I was really happy to meet all those gentlemen, and talk to them, and shake their hands, and share a few stories, but in the end, I wanted to ride alone.
When I was planning my GAP trip, and talking to people around town about it, the question which would always come up was "are you doing it with a group?" When I answered "No", I found people's reactions split along two lines:
a) Cyclists - even if they weren't long distance touring cyclists - got it. You're going alone? That'll be awesome. And their eyes would mist over with some kind of envy, accompanied by an image floating before their eyes of forests and rail-trails and prairies and climbs into the dewy clouds clinging to a mountain top.
b) Non-cyclists didn't get it. And, I'm not trying to be mean, but, I couldn't be bothered to explain it to them.
And, well, what is "it"? What is the thing I didn't want to explain?
Partly - it's this.
Skip through the two-plus minutes of period-piece British drama, and watch from about the 2:50 mark. And look at their faces.
Start at about the 2:50 mark
Despite the fact that they're running in a group (presumably the 1924 British Olympic team), is there any doubt at all that they're really running alone? And exulting in it?
Go for a run. Not pavement. Trail.
No music. No earbuds.
The kind of trail where there is dirt under your feet which sprays out a bit behind you every time your feet push off.
Listen for it. The spray of sand, of pebble.
Listen to your breathing.
Feel the breeze on your skin.
Squint slightly as you round a bend and a flash of sunlight hits your eyes.
Are you alone? Or are you part of something?
And does the pounding of your heart somehow make it even closer?
And I, tiny being, drunk with the great starry void, likeness, image of mystery, felt myself a pure part of the abyss. I wheeled with the stars. My heart broke loose with the wind.
- Pablo Neruda "Poetry", translated by Alastair Reid.
Also known as "gunshot" day - but more on that below!
On Friday, Day 5, I rode from Confluence to West Newton - the primary feature of this ride is the long trek through Ohiopyle State Park.
And for the elevation geeks out there, click on this image below to see this better, but from Confluence, headed north to West Newton, you benefit from a very steadily downward grade.
Not much to report on the stretch from Confluence to Ohiopyle, which is roughly 10 miles. It had rained during the night, so packing my tent in the morning, everything was wet. I was pedaling by 7:00am... and like I did almost every single morning of this trip - I left without even attempting to make some kind of breakfast. Instead I relied on mid morning breaks where I would eat a power bar, or some bread and peanut butter.
Today - feeling very meditative this day - I just softly pedaled the 10 miles to Ohiopyle, and when I got there, I parked at the Visitor's Station and wandered around the small town on foot, looking for coffee and some kind of food. I eventually found the Ohiopyle Bakery and Donut Shop.
It's a really nice little hard to find, hole-in-the-wall shop, and I got coffee and two donuts here (doughnuts?).
And it was busy! When I was in the shop, it seemed like a gaggle of kayaker tour guides were in there, getting fuel (in the form of calories) for their daily adventuring. I started thinking about "jock" culture - listening to these 20-somethings talk about shooting rapids, and going under, and so-and-so who is a powerhouse, etc. Specifically I was thinking about the idea of jocks vs. travelers. I'm not confident I know what the difference is, but somewhere in there I think there's a notion of jocks as people who like to challenge nature, and wrestle with obstacles, and prove their... worth?.. against nature's obstacles, while travelers like to enter, and experience nature, and be changed by it.
I've never really been a "challenger of nature" type. I don't mountain bike - which I suspect is cycling's touch to "jockdom". I'm the traveler type. Let's go see what's out there, and see where I fit into it, kind of approach.
(Ohiopyle, looking over the bridge to the north)
Anyway! I took my coffee and donuts and had a really peaceful and enjoyable hour or so, at the picnic table shown above, having my coffee, writing in my journal, and talking to a slightly older married couple that wandered by. I was really feeling the "end" of my trip approaching at this point, though I had the rest of the day, and Saturday, still to go. And with the "end" in my bones, I felt very reflective sitting there. In a way, I had a hard time getting myself to leave. I should go get another coffee and more doughnuts and just stay here!
I did enjoy talking to the married couple that stopped by. The husband showed up first. He wandered by (probably waiting for his wife to catch up), spotted me and my rig, and started the "where are you going / where have you been" conversation. Because of some books, I'd been reading, some references to Teddy Roosevelt and the Lewis and Clarke expedition came up, and I think I impressed them with this random Canadians' knowledge of US history.
It's amusing how people love a traveler, by the way. See some mud-splattered guy sitting nearby, with a bike loaded with gear... and walk over and ask what road he took to get to this point, and what roads he'll be traveling on next.
Travelers also enjoy hitting up other travelers for their stories - partly so that they can soon switch to telling their own story!
The bridge you cross leaving Ohiopyle to the north.
Ohiopyle to Connellsville - not much to report. 20 miles of dark rainforest green.
Around milepost 85, over across the river, where there are train tracks and there might have even been a small train yard over there, I thought for sure I heard gunshots. About 4 or 5 of these "shots" went off, 30 or so seconds apart. The sounds might have been train related, but man they sounded like gunshots. And after spending a day, and several days, virtually alone in a forest, it was a bit of a disturbing sound.
Eventually - as you head north - the "lost in the Amazon" experience switches back to the "oh here's the Youghiogheny River and the cliffs" experience.
Returning to Connellsville (my arch-nemesis on this trip), I followed the bike lane through town, and as soon as I crossed the main strip (Crawford Ave) I encountered the only significant amount of broken glass I'd see on the GAP. I didn't see it in time to stop and avoid it, so I blew through it (all 4 wheels... including the trailer), and figured I'd give my tires a good once-over at the KOA, where I was planning to stop for a break. I hate broken glass. :(
At the KOA north of Connellsville, where I'd stayed on Day 1, I flipped my bike over, and checked all my tires for bits of embedded broken glass. All was good - and except for the noise coming from the left wheel of my cargo trailer, I didn't have any mechanical problems on this trip. (knock on wood, re. future trips!).
I saw a cyclist with a Surly that was pretty loaded up, and talked to him for a bit. The "travelers sharing traveling tales" kind of thing. He was also northbound towards Pittsburgh, having come all the way up the C and O Towpath. He was a good guy, and we talked bikes a bit. He wasn't a committed cyclist of any sort. He'd owned the Surly (one of their hard-core touring specific models) for over 5 years, and had looked at it recently and said "I better use this, or sell it," and so he'd planned this long C and O / GAP trip for himself.
At the KOA, after doing some bike maintenance, I got onto their wifi and did a couple things. I had been thinking about that old I ride my bicycle to ride my bicycle line, and so I found somebody's post about that, and put that on my facebook page.
From the KOA to West Newton I had good weather, and was once again in a "I'm tired and my bum hurts so let's hustle" mood, so I hauled pretty hard for long portions of this 20 mile section. River on the right - trees on the left - let's pedal.
West Newton!!
I've been debating what I would say about the place I stayed here. I'm not going to say much.
I didn't like it. There. That's it.
Plus - the trains again! Sweet Jesus there are a lot of trains in Pennsylvania!! I had a terrible time sleeping this night, due to the combination of trains and fellow campers.
I wandered around West Newton a little bit. They'd recently had two significant fires right downtown, so the "historic" downtown mentioned in the GAP was looking pretty rough.
Plus, I'm pretty sure the West Newton public works people put some city tourist maps up in the wrong places around town.
Dudes! Right there where the arrow is... in that little park after you walk over the bridge. The map at that booth has a YOU ARE HERE arrow indicating that you are actually somewhere on the west side of the river! I promise you... your public works guys went around town with their bundle of city maps and put them up in the wrong kiosks!
At the campground in West Newton, I realized that the father/son combo who I'd met at the Husky Haven in Rockwood were also staying there. So talked to them a bit, as we once again found ourselves crossing paths along the GAP.
On day 4, after a great sleep in a hotel in Cumberland, I headed back north towards Pittsburgh.
As I mentioned in my Day 3 post - with every turn of my wheels, as I coasted for 20 miles down into Cumberland, I was thinking "oh my God oh my God oh my God - I have to pedal up this thing, hauling the trailer behind me, tomorrow!"
Here's what a graphic located at the Eastern Continental Divide scares you with:
And while that portrays the climb as insanely steep, which it isn't (not at all).. it is STILL A GREAT BLOODY LONG CLIMB! It's 20 miles of going UP! Here's what it looks like from my Strava data for this day's ride:
If you click on that image to enlarge it, you'll get the point that this is essentially 40km of long steady climbing. Again, not a bad grade, not steep, but long, man. Yikes it's a lot of climbing.
I was out of the hotel and pedalling through Cumberland by 5:30am... the mist still rising from the forested mountains around the city.. The descent on the previous day had really psyched me out, regarding how long it was going to take me to do the climb, so I wanted to get going early and get the climb over with, so I could get through the rest of the 100km day.
A mother and fawn skittered along some railroad tracks, parallel to the trail, as I was leaving the city, and I would eventually see 5 deer this day, including another mother and fawn combo.
The climb wasn't really brutal. Just long. The stretch from Cumberland to Frostburg was just "head down and grind it out" kind of riding. Luckily the morning dew had firmed up the trail, and it wasn't as loose as it had seemed when I went down mid-afternoon on the Wednesday.
This is a few seconds of what the view is like (south of Frostburg) when the trees on your right side clear out of the way.
I stopped in Frostburg to eat an apple and power bar, and to fill up my water at their free water-fill station. Three guys were there, talking. Two would shortly leave, headed downhill into Cumberland. The third was a gentleman I got talking to for a while... part of it one of those "oh, you're from Canada" talks.
This gentleman was about 60 years old. I'd actually seen him the day before, when I was headed down this climb. He was going UP the climb... PUSHING his bike up the slope. He had a cargo trailer like mine... same company but an older model.. but on top of his trailer he had about another full trailer's worth of stuff bungee-corded down.
He was in somewhat rough shape actually - I'd overheard him, when he was talking to the other two cyclists, mention that he had a bad hamstring and couldn't pedal uphill right now. So he still had the rest of the climb to the continental divide to go, before he would be getting on his bike again. I got the impression he was "trekking" in a spiritual way. He talked about his ministry work in the past, as though he was done with a system that would keep returning the disenfranchised back to their beginnings, despite his best efforts to help them rise to something greater.
Anyway - as I got going, he was lingering in Frostburg at the visitor's center, waiting for some inspiration before beginning to push his bike up the rest of that climb.
From Frostburg, headed north back to Meyersdale, you pass that embarrassment of rich sight-seeing spots again... Big Savage, the view just before Big Savage, the continental divide. I'd even go so far as to say that the rest of the climb... up above Frostburg... became fun. Partly because you've now left behind the railway tracks that parallel the trail on the lower part of the climb, and which really seemed to hem me in somehow.
The view just before you hit Big Savage.
I stopped in Meyersdale and bought a couple of ice cream bars and a ginger ale. Inside the visitor's center they have a map where you can stick a pin to mark your hometown. So I did that, and then got going. I ran into Troy - the gentleman from the KOA - just before I hit the Salisbury Viaduct. That was fun - we'd both been keeping our eye out for each other, and we had a good talk for a little while, before shaking hands and heading off again... me north... Troy south.
Few seconds of the Salisbury Viaduct.
From the Salisbury Viaduct I pretty much hammered right on through to Confluence. Didn't stop at Rockwood, at least not at the trailhead. A mile or so north of Rockwood I pulled over at some benches to have a drink and to rest my butt.
Rockwood to Confluence I had great weather, and I did feel the advantage of the now-downhill grade, though the GAP seems to have a north-to-south wind pattern, so the headwind I was now facing negated some of the advantage of the downhill slope.
Stayed at the Confluence Outflow Campground that night. The place was pretty full. I had reserved a campsite, so I kept it... but in hindsight I might have been better off to switch to the "biker / hiker" free for all area that the lady at the front-desk mentioned. By staying at my campsite I was pitching my tent on hard gravel stones, but I was worried would tear the bottom of my tent.
Outflow does not have wifi, and my site did not have power. So... two strikes there. The lady at the desk let me leave my Garmin and iPod with her, and she charged them for me in her office. After dumping my trailer I had a shower (great hot showers!) and biked into town again, and bought a few groceries at the little store. Then I biked back to the campground, picked up my devices, and then recrossed the bridge to the Lucky Dog Cafe, where I drank a few Coronas, used their wifi, and did my journalling.
Campsite at the Outflow Campground
That's it for Day 4. Longest ride of my trip - and included the long steady climb up from Confluence.
I thought I'd pause in my daily GAP reports, for a few "interlude"' posts - this one being about my choice to use a two-wheel Croozer Cargo trailer for this adventure.
PS - I didn't exactly hear the comment which makes up the title of this blog post, but I heard some very close equivalents while I was out riding for those 6 days!
As you can see in this picture (taken somewhere south of Connellsville I think), I ran rear panniers, and the trailer. The bulky stuff that I felt required the trailer, included:
In my panniers, I had bike locks, bike repair tools, spare tubes, the large paperback book I was reading, spare bottle of water, a bag of miscellaneous things, like wallet, passport, Garmin charger, iPod Touch charger, flashlights, etc.
I guess there are two questions which arise here: a) did the Croozer work? b) would I use it again?
Did the Croozer work?
Yes, it did. On the return, northbound, journey, the left wheel was making an odd "out of true" kind of sound, but I couldn't figure out what the problem was. The spokes were fine, the tire was fine, the small axle seemed fine. And sometimes the sound would go away, so after worrying about it through the end of my day 4 ride, I mostly put it out of my mind for days 5 and 6.
It was heavy - but that is more my fault for how many items I loaded into it. When I got a head of steam up, and we had momentum, the Croozer was sometimes not even noticeable behind me. But it was noticeable, and heavy, every time you got started from a standstill, and was especially noticeable during that long 20 mile climb north from Cumberland, and on my Day 2 "rain" day heading to Rockwood, when the water on the trail turned the ride into a hard slog.
Would I use it again?
No. Not for a long bike camping trip like this one.
Physically - if you're going with a cargo trailer, you've simply decided to carry too much stuff. It's too much physical baggage to be hauling for 500km, and an extra piece of equipment that could somehow go wrong while you're on the trail.
Philosophically / Spiritually - it's too much baggage!
Very quickly on this trip, my thinking shifted from what do I need for camping, sleeping, cooking, while I'm out here? To something more like it's me and the bike, everything else is noise.
I felt like the trip was a chance to whittle my life down to something raw, something that was, on one hand, pure physical exertion, but also a time for contemplation, reflection. And - no offense Croozer, or cargo trailers in general - but the trailer just didn't fit into that equation. It was in the way. It was "junk" bouncing around like tin cans at the back of a "just married" car, interrupting my pedaling and my thinking, and no, it wasn't worth it.
What are the alternatives?
Well... downsizing just a little bit, you're looking at something like the single wheel Bob Yak trailer.
Troy, the gentleman I met at the Connellsville KOA, was using one of these.
However, if I do this kind of riding again, I'll be pretty determined to minimize down to only what I can carry in front and rear panniers, and strapped to my rear rack. Randonneur style.
In other notes - I considered titling this post You are the Thunder!
The trailer, at times, can be totally silent, and I did find myself looking over my shoulder once or twice to make sure it was still there, because I couldn't hear it.
But, most often you can hear it behind you, and when you're going over a section of lightly washboarded trail, it rattles over the bumps and makes a noise like distant thunder. I'd start thinking "is a storm coming? is that thunder?", and then listening a bit more carefully, realize it was me, I was the thunder.
On Day Three I rode (and coasted) from Rockwood into Cumberland, Maryland. Cumberland would be my turn-around point, and I would head north on Thursday, Day 4.
I woke early at the Husky Haven, had my coffee and packed up.
Rockwood to Meyersdale was uneventful. Good weather. The trail forested, and slightly uphill.
You pass the Salisbury Viaduct on this stretch, which is just an embarrassingly wonderful trail connection over highways and river.
I biked through Meyersdale and would eventually stop at a little trail-head called Deal, where I had my power bar and guzzled down some water. After Deal, you hit several interesting things all in one fairly short stretch:
The Eastern Continental Divide
At 2392 feet, this is the highest point on the GAP trail, and you quickly descend down to Cumberland, which is at 620 feet.
The Big Savage Tunnel
Big Savage is a km of biking through near darkness. When I biked through on this southbound trip, the orange lights you see in the ceiling were out for the 2nd half of the tunnel... so the southern half. So... it was pitch black in there, though I did have lights on and a flashlight in my hand.
The Mason Dixon Line
Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon were a British survey team that established the border of Maryland and Pennsylvania between 1763 and 1767. When you pass this point... going south... you're now in Maryland.
The Borden Tunnel
The Borden Tunnel isn't as insanely long as the Big Savage, but is still pretty interesting when you're smack in the middle with no lights.
I stopped briefly in Frostburg, and considered going into town for coffee. But, I got talking to a guy from Connecticut who was waiting in the visitor's area for his brother to ride up from the south. I drank some water, looked at my guide-book, and we talked about Canada and the U.S., and he had relatives in Quebec so he'd visited Quebec a few times.
I decided to just get going again, so I continued down to Cumberland. Coasting almost all the way.
Frostburg to Cumberland was actually a little bit boring, and I didn't really enjoy sliding alongside the Western Maryland Scenic Railway the whole time. It was mid-afternoon and dust was coming up from the trail, and with every turn of my wheels, all I could think about was how hard it was going to be to haul my cargo trailer UP this climb for 20 miles on Thursday morning.
In Cumberland I hung out in Canal Place, and was talking to a young long-distance hauler named Rowen (Rowan?). He'd already done 500+ miles just to get to Cumberland, starting somewhere down the east coast. He was travelling with all his gear on his bike, in rear and front panniers, and with some stuff on his bars and on a rear rack.
In Cumberland, I stayed in a hotel, the Ramada, which lets cyclists bring their full rig up into their room with them.
I showered right away, with some of my clothing (leaving them to air dry). And then I figured out where the post office was, ran over there and bought a shipping box, and brought it back to the hotel and started filling it with gear that I no longer felt like I needed, and also considered useless extra weight that I didn't want to be carrying back up the mountain the next day.
All told, it cost me $55.00 or so American to mail my dirty laundry and a few other things back to Canada!
After my 2nd trip to the Post Office, I ambled through Cumberland's pedestrian boulevard to Uncle Jack's Pizzeria and Pub. I worked on my journal in there and happily enjoyed a couple of beer, a plate of fries, and a mushroom and black olive pizza.
On day two of my six day GAP trip, I went from Connellsville to Rockwood.
Actually - since I departed on day two from the KOA, which is at mile-marker 92, my full mileage would have been around 48 miles / 77km.
Connellsville to Rockwood is pretty much the most intensely journeying through forest and nothing but forest stretch of this trip. Despite the couple of towns you pass (Ohiopyle and Confluence), you fly right past them, and are immediately back in forest again.
I had great weather to start. The river on the left again, and cliffs on the right. The Youghiogheny River has a lot more rapids down here though, so it is actually more scenic and more beautiful a view over these miles.
As I was headed southbound, I had three different groups of cyclists fly by me, headed northbound. They looked like local club cyclists out for a morning ride. They were really tearing it up, but they also had the advantage of the slight downhill grade of the trail.
Everyone talks about how flat the GAP trail is by the way. And sure, it's flat, I agree.
BUT - you do notice the grade sometimes. When you're headed south, I felt the slight uphill of the trail on days two and three (not so much on day one). In fact heading into Rockwood I was really feeling it, but (as I'll explain below) I also got caught in the rain and was in wet trail for a while, which didn't help.
I stopped briefly in Ohiopyle around 10:00am. I had an apple and refilled my water bottle in the station, and then decided to knock off the next ten miles to Confluence. From Ohiopyle to Confluence I must have had a good tailwind - because I was really flying along this stretch, despite the cargo trailer and the slight uphill grade.
View of the Youghiogheny River as it bends around Ohiopyle.
Clouds moved in and the sky was darkening as I hit Confluence. I decided to sidetrack a bit and bike right into the little downtown and wait out the storm under some cover somewhere. Confluence is a tiny little town that reminded me a lot of the Andy Griffith show.
I went into Confluence Cyclery and had a wonderful experience with Brad here at this shop. With the storm seeming to be about to burst, Brad let me pull my full bike and trailer into his shop to wait out the storm. He also got me onto his wifi (he had to reboot his router), and directed me to Sister's Cafe, a few shops down, to get some ice cream.
The storm actually barely hit while I was in the town. I sat on the front steps of the bike shop for a little while, drinking a milkshake, and ended up talking to a cyclist down from Pittsburgh, who had rented a recumbent trike from Brad, to do part of the GAP trail. This gentleman would be one of the first of several who would hear my Canadian accent and realize that this guy wasn't from around here. When I said I was from Ontario, he mentioned his frequent visits to Ontario, and we had a good talk that ended up being about the Penguins, Steelers, and how crappy the Pirates are (his words, not mine!).
When it looked like the storm had completely passed by, I thanked Brad and hauled my rig out of his shop, and got pedalling again, and just five minutes south of town the skies opened up and poured down rain. I hid under some trees and actually didn't really get that wet myself, but, the trail was now a soggy mess. And it was a soggy mess for ages - almost the entire 20 miles or so to Rockwood.
Confluence to Rockwood on day two was one of my least favourite parts of the trip:
a) the rain and the now soggy trail, greatly slowing me down
b) the seriously uphill grade (Confluence has an elevation of 1340 feet, and Rockwood 1826)
c) the river often entirely disappears and it is a fairly boring ride
d) complete absence of other cyclists! At least on this day, at this time, it was ghostly except for me. The storm probably contributed to keeping people off the trail.
As mentioned in this video, the rain and the trail to Rockwood made me realize that you need quite long fenders when you're using a cargo trailer. I sprayed dirt and mud all over my trailer through this stage of the ride. So, lessons learned here are:
a) use fenders in general for this type of long distance riding
b) if hauling a rig of some sort, make sure your fenders will be long enough to keep your tires from throwing mud back at your trailer.
Rockwood!
I didn't journey up to the little mainstreet, so I only saw the Husky Haven campground and their guest area. I liked the Husky Haven, though it has a slightly odd setup. The campground is right along side the trail, but the town of Rockwood, and the Husky Haven office, are across a bridge over the Casselman River, and down a little side street. So... to get water, showers, wifi, power for your devices, you have to go over to the office. Not the end of the world, but not as convenient as a KOA kind of set-up, where everything is right there.
At the campsites, he has tons of firewood which is free and is sitting there waiting for you at your site. He even has newspapers and kindling tucked on top of the firewood for you. I hadn't expected to make a fire, but made one for the hell of it and sat there reading my book for an hour or so after my dinner of veggie Mr. Noodles (Ramen noodles).
I was fairly wrecked by the day two ride. 77km, hauling that trailer, noticeably uphill, through wet trail, really fired up my appetite, so as soon as I got to Rockwood I checked in at the Husky Haven office, and then went to the little gas station / store and bought a can of Pringles, a bottle of coke and a bottle of flavoured water, then biked to my campsite and just sat there eating all the Pringles and drinking all my fluids.
Then, I biked over to the little bike shop that is right at the Rockwood trailhead, and I paid the guy there $5.00 to let me use some cleaning solution, brushes, oil, to clean up my drivetrain, which had gotten pretty gunky from the wet trail.
Then I went back to Husky Haven offices and showered, charged my devices, did some social media messaging, and filled a bunch of bottles (including the pop bottle and water bottle I'd just bought and finished) with water, and went back to the campsite feeling refreshed.
I think there were only two other sites in use while I was at the Husky Haven. One site was being used by a father and son combo (the son was only 12) who were headed north along the GAP trail. I'd catch up to them on my return trip north and we'd ping-pong back and forth... seeing and passing each other... from Ohiopyle all the way back into Point State Park on our northbound trips.
Main note about Rockwood that you need to know - and a good thing to know about bike camping along the GAP trail in general - TAKE EARPLUGS BECAUSE THERE ARE A CRAZY AMOUNT OF TRAINS IN PENNSYLVANIA!!!!!!!!
Seriously. There are a lot of trains here.
It most affected me in Rockwood, and in West Newton on my return trip north. In both these places, it seemed like as soon as dusk set in, you had train after train blowing their whistles / sirens as they clattered their way through town.
I think that's about all regarding day two. Ohiopyle is gorgeous, but I noticed that more on my northbound trip than I did on this day. The Pinkerton Tunnel was interesting, but after you see the Big Savage tunnel closer to Cumberland, it puts pretty much any other tunnel on the GAP trail to shame.
Day Two was basically my one and only rain day, so that put a wee bit of a cloud over day two.
On Monday June 12, I started the first day of a six day trip, south on the GAP trail from Pittsburgh to Cumberland, and then back north again, returning to Pittsburgh. This was a solo, self-supported ride, on a Kona Dew Deluxe hybrid, hauling a Croozer Cargo trailer (I'll have more to say about the logistical and spiritual consequences of hauling a cargo trailer in a separate post later on!).
Day 1 = Pittsburgh to Connellsville, or more accurately, the KOA a few miles north of Connellsville.
In theory, if you're biking the GAP, you start at the trail-head in Point State Park.
I started seeing some conflicting news about an immediate disconnect in the GAP trail, starting right at Point State Park. There isn't a continuous trail that you just start riding on - you have to do some Pittsburgh street riding right away, and then return to the trail a few blocks away.
In the end, largely because of where my hotel was located, I decided to skip the classic "start at the trailhead" approach, and instead I flew south down the big hill on Bates Street, rode on the 2nd street sidewalk briefly (so a right turn at the bottom of Bates, and bike on the sidewalk towards downtown), and used the 2nd street ramp to get up onto what is locally called the Eliza Furnace Trail, which is the first bit of a patchwork of Pittsburgh trails that make up the GAP trail.
And with that, I was on my way.
(this picture was probably taken almost at McKeesport, so this would be the Monongahela River, and looking back into Pittsburgh, seeing the McKeesport-Dusquene bridge).
I'm an early riser, so I was probably pedaling down Bates (or coasting down Bates) by about 6:30am.
It was a gorgeous day, as you can tell from the picture above. Full sunshine and little to no wind. The first stretch of the GAP trail you are weaving your way out of Pittsburgh, so it is city riding, though on a dedicated bike trail. In fact, the trail is completely paved (except for one stretch of trail when you run behind some condos) all the way to Boston... which is about 22 miles south of Pittsburgh.
I liked the first section... the city & industrial section. In particular, I enjoyed the stretches where the trail went right along people's backyards, and you got a glimpse of small town (and generally lower-income) life in this area. Eventually (and I'm slightly guessing, but I'll say beginning in Boston and heading south), you enter "Country" riding, where for dozens and dozens of kilometers the Youghiogheny River is on your left, and high cliffs (forested cliffs) are on your right.
I saw one deer on this first day, and would then see at the very least a deer per day on this trip. On Day 4, headed north out of Cumberland, I saw five deer. Something that never fails to surprise me is how quickly and completely a deer can disappear when he decides he's had enough of seeing you ride towards him. Weird dude is coming... weird dude is coming... weird dude is coming.... okay screw it I'm out of here.... and Presto... 7 seconds later you reach the spot where the deer was standing and he's completely invisible behind the bushes someplace.
At West Newton, where I would stay for a night on my return trip, I stopped at the train station / visitor's center and had some bread and peanut butter, and an apple. By West Newton you're about 35 miles / 56 km into your trip, and I was feeling the need for a rest at that point.
The rest of the ride to the KOA north of Connellsville would have been forest and river, forest and river, on repeat. I don't remember much of that ride. I do remember being surprised - as I would be for much of this trip - at the absence of other cyclists. You certainly reach certain sections of the trail that are popular with locals (both north and south of Ohiopyle being the most popular section); but otherwise, you can go for over an hour without seeing another soul - then, you see one person... and then another hour passes where you're completely alone. I'd honestly thought it would be far busier... with gaggles of 6 or 7 riders on guided tours going by me all the time.
The KOA north of Connellsville was great. They have a store there where you can buy some food and drinks, a pool, good showers / washrooms, and in the tent area they have power outlets to charge your devices, and also free and quite good wifi. Right at the front of the main building, they have taps that people can use to get free, and good, water.
At the KOA I met another long-haul cyclist named Troy. Troy was doing more relaxing mileage than I was - about 30 miles a day. We talked and shared stories a bit, and being a bit older and far more world-travelled, he definitely had better stories. Troy would still be southbound when I had made my turn and would be headed north, so we parted hoping to cross paths again in a few days.
I should note here by the way that I was travelling with only an iPod Touch - so my social media updates were done each time I reached a free wifi area, which are quite easy to find along this trail. In general, what you're looking for as you hit towns are free water, free power, and free wifi - and I found all of these easy to find at my campsites. The KOA had all of these.
For dinner, even though I had cooking supplies and some food, I had a craving for Chinese food for some reason, so I biked the 6 and a bit km into Connellsville and ended up at the Double Dragon restaurant. I won't go into much detail here, but I wouldn't really recommend this restaurant. I also didn't really enjoy Connellsville that much. I'm sure I failed to see the good parts of Connellsville, but still, my first impression, when I biked in to get some dinner, was not great. And then, on my return trip north, the only significant amount of broken glass that I saw anywhere on the GAP was in the on-street bike lane through Connellsville.
This is my full rig that I was hauling. I'll have another post later on about the pros/cons of using a cargo trailer like this one.
And, a couple of brief logistical notes here:
What was in the cargo trailer and panniers?
tent
sleeping bag
air mattress
cooking supplies (gas cannister, tiny stove, etc)
food
clothes
extra bottle of water
book & magazine, journal, pens
bike locks
bike repair tools / gear (I even brought a spare tire)
miscellaneous things (like the chargers for my Garmin watch and my iPod touch)
Basically - I was hauling way too much stuff, which I'll mention again in the eventual Day 3 post.
How fit was I?
Well, fairly average, to be honest. The longest ride I had done this season was probably about 50km on Zwift. I hadn't come anywhere close to the near 100km days that I did on this trip. Especially not hauling a heavy cargo trailer.
The only thing I had going for me is the fact that I am a bike commuter, used to biking every day and accustomed to having serious weight in my panniers.
So - you can do it. It really just comes down to setting your daily mileage in a way that will be doable for you, and then taking as many breaks during the ride as you need to.
Upcoming
I will be doing six "daily ride" posts about my six days on the GAP trail, and then I'll do a few miscellaneous posts about the cycling / travelling life etc.
I am indeed doing the GAP trail, in just a few weeks now.
As mentioned in my previous post, I'm doing Pittsburgh to Cumberland, and then biking back up to Pittsburgh again. Most nights tent camping along the trail.
I thought I'd do a post about the gear I'll be using. At least the "big" pieces, i.e. the bike!
I wanted to use my 2006 Jamis Nova... a cyclocross bike that has lots of mounting ability for fenders racks etc.
I actually love my Jamis. It was one of the bikes I was riding when I started this blog about 10 years ago now, doing my crazy bike commute to / from north Oshawa from downtown Toronto. For about two years now it has been my "Zwifting" bike... sitting in my basement on a trainer, never seeing the light of day. (sniff!).
Anyway, I "wanted" to use my Jamis, until I tried attaching the hitch for my new cargo trailer to the bike (see cargo trailer below). Not sure if you can tell very well from this picture, below, but the dropouts where the rear skewer goes are kind of recessed a bit, and it doesn't work well with the trailer hitch. I could get the hitch on, and get the skewer secured again, but something about the fit of the hitch + recessed nature of the dropouts, throws the hub out of alignment, and makes the full wheel run like it's out of true.
So, the Jamis is NOT going to Pennsylvania with me, although I've now outfitted it with a rack and fenders, and it is now my every-day bike commuter, so it will get a ton of useful mileage out in the sunshine (and wind and rain) this summer.
So, if not the Jamis, then what? Luckily I own a few bikes, and my main commuter works fine with the cargo hitch. So... I'm riding my 2006 Kona Dew Deluxe. Riding it with full fenders, a rack, a 35mm Continental (something?) on the rear, and a 32mm Continental (something else?) on front.
Hmm... I just remembered... I reviewed the bike on roadbikereview AGES ago. Just re-read my review, I think I feel the same way now, as i did then. Though I also can now say that I've had the bike for 10 years, and it's been pretty bloody durable, save for the big wheel warp I did to the rear wheel last summer (scroll down this blog for more details on that).
This is what the cargo hitch is supposed to look like, when it's on your bike. Nice and flush and tight against the frame and dropout, not affecting the wheel hardly at all, and really just losing a couple threads of tightening on your skewer (i.e. the space the hitch takes up on the skewer).
I'm not necessarily thrilled with the idea of doing 500km on a heavy-ish hybrid, compared to doing the 500km on a cooler 'cross bike... but such is life.
Tent camping means carrying a tent, sleeping bag, sleeping mat, a bit of cooking (or rather "making coffee") equipment on the ride. A lot of people would do that with front rack / panniers, in addition to the rear rack / panniers, but I didn't want to go that route.
Another consideration for me was that my kids are now old enough that I'm most likely done with our Chariot, but would still like the ability to haul stuff in the future... so ... if I buy a cargo trailer... I can use it for the GAP trip, for future trips, and for hauling stuff around town on a bike.
Hmm... just re-read their sales pitch on their site... two cases of beer will easily fit in with room to spare.
Do cyclists drink beer??!!! 😄
The Croozer has a rear handle for use when you're just wheeling it around by hand. I won't be taking that with me. At the front, they have a wheel that you insert / remove as needed... removing it when you're using it attached to your bike, using it when you're wheeling it around by hand. I'll probably take the wheel with me so that I can pop it on and wheel the trailer around my campsites.
This is the interior... a few pockets... nothing fancy.
I should add that it collapses down nice and flat, and the wheels pop off, so it will be easy to store behind a workbench or something to get it out of the way in your garage etc.
So, that's the "big" gear I'm taking.
Otherwise, I'm not sure anyone wants to hear what brand of spare tubes, hand-pumps etc I'm taking with me.
I've never really taken a cycling vacation - but it appears that one is in my future. In early summer I'm planning to do the Great Allegheny Passage, from Pittsburgh to Cumberland, Maryland. More information is on this page.
I think I'm going to try and do a six day trip, from Pittsburgh to Cumberland, and then back to Pittsburgh again, which is about 482km.
Hopefully I'll be able to upload my own GAP trail video in mid summer, but here is one that is already up there.
