Man-Boobs, or, Terrifying the tourists

Without a doubt, cycling the GAP was one of the more enjoyable things I've done over the last several years. I did have one moment though that made me go "ewww!!" and shake my head and wish that I had not seen what I had just seen.

Mile Post 100 - Man Boobs.

On Day 5, as I was grinding out the miles between Connellsville and West Newton, I encountered man-boobs. Old and saggy ones. 😕

And I will refrain from finding a photo of man-boobs and adding them to this post! As nice as an image is in a blog post, sometimes you just shouldn't go there!

This would have been Friday afternoon. Warm, sunny day.
A guy went out for a ride. Maybe does this a lot. Maybe the GAP trail goes by his back yard.
Doesn't want to wear a shirt. Wants to feel the sun on his skin.
Fair enough. To an extent.

He was about 60 or so, probably 6 feet tall, if I'd seen him standing.
A bit overweight, but not bad for 60. He had a helmet on, with a visor mirror attachment. White guy with a white beard. Baggy blue shorts, and serious man breasts. Good God Grandma Put Those Away!!!! kind of man-breasts. And he was pedaling hard, so they were swaying beneath him as he leaned forward onto his drop-down handlebars.

Picture that for a moment, and then try to forget it forever - bearded man pedaling hard on a summer day with his man-boobs swinging to and fro beneath him.

You don't see many shirtless cyclists, now that I think about it. I mean, I bike a lot, and I barely remember seeing many shirtless cyclists. I really wish I hadn't seen this one!

Cyclists in the Connellsville and West Newton area - you have a job to do!
Find Man-Boob guy and introduce him to shirted-cycling!

Great Allegheny Passage (GAP) Trail : Day 6 : West Newton to Pittsburgh

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.

GAP Great Allegheny Passage - Tuco's compilation video

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.

In my heart, I can hear the drum.

Loneliness of the long distance runner

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.

Great Allegheny Passage (GAP) Trail : Day 5 : Confluence to West Newton

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.

Otherwise... Friday was done! One day left.

Great Allegheny Passage (GAP) Trail : Day Four - Cumberland to Confluence

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.

Isn't that cute, he's pulling a little orange trailer!

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:

• tent
• sleeping bag
• sleeping matt
• cooking items (gas cannister, little cannister attachment, pot to boil water, etc)
• food
• clothes, including rain gear

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.

Photo from the bike tourings website.

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.