The Longest Day, Killer-Diller Hills, and a Whammie
Three days after leaving home for the next phase of the adventure finds me happily exhausted after reaching the Great Allegheny Passage (GAP), the trail that runs from Pittsburgh to Cumberland, Maryland. From Cumberland, the trail becomes the C&O Canal Towpath, and continues all the way to Washington, D.C. I’ve ridden the length of these trails once and sections of both multiple times. The stretch of the GAP that I ride tomorrow runs alongside the Youghiogheny River and is stunning. The next 20-mile stretch, which runs alongside the Casselman River, is remote with woods that are dark and deep. Riding these sections is always restorative.
I left Columbus with the ambitious plan to ride to Newcomerstown, Ohio, birthplace of Cy Young and Woody Hayes. It was an 89-mile ride that turned out to be 96 miles, almost a “century,” as cyclists call a 100 mile ride. One reason for the additional miles was because I forgot to pack my non-riding sneakers that I wear off the bike in the evenings and days off. So, I took a detour into Heath, Ohio to a brick and mortar shopping mall where I found some cheap but still overpriced running shoes made in Indonesia for a famous national brand. The second reason for the extra miles was because I took a wrong turn and had to loop around to rejoin the route. Retracing my path was out of the question; I was chased by a vicious dog that I easily outpaced only because I was flying down a steep hill. There was no way I was going to climb that hill and offer myself as a slow-moving target to that nasty canis lupis familiaris.
Yesterday, I rode mostly on US highways and state roads from Newcomersvile to Steubenville. I sTopped at a Mexican restaurant for my Elevensies meal in Ullrichtown, and was sorry I did. The food tasted bad and made me feel weak. Not what I needed for climbing the hills. Fortunately, I was saved by the Connoton Creek Trail, a flat 11-mile paved trail in the shade that is a true gem. Later, at mile 52, I knew that I had one serious climb before entering the Steubenville metro area. First, I dropped several hundred feet on a screaming descent and then began the 2.7 mile climb. It was tough, peaking at 11%, but it was not, as John Lennon penned, “killer-diller.”
(Yeah, yeah, yeah!)
Now, riding into Steubenville is not an experience I wish to repeat. The quiet 2-lane road morphs from the bucolic to become a veritable Golem of a road: four lanes packed with drivers in a rush, no shoulders, and one ugly strip mall after another. I spent the night in a B&B on a quiet street near the Ohio river. The house was a Victorian, built in 1870 and decorated by the proprietor in the style of that era. Believe it or not, I was the only guest and not once did I see my hosts. I came downstairs at 7:40 this morning and breakfast had already been set out. At least the COVID threat level was a safe zero.
It rained last night and thick, low clouds floated overhead in the grey morning. I set out and crossed the Ohio River into the West Virginia panhandle. After a mile, I climbed the first of the day’s many steep climbs, up into the ridges that run like Stegosaurus cartilage through the state. There was no rain but a fine mist, similar to the first day of this adventure in the Olympic Peninsula. The firm yet commanding voice of the Google Maps app led me to a two-mile gravel stretch where I had to walk my bike twice up the steep, slippery slopes. No, I’m not that proud. Afterwards, I had the great fortune of riding on the Panhandle Trail that runs from West Virginia into Pennsylvania, a well maintained paved trail that climbed and descended, but at easily managed railroad grades. Then I picked up the Montour Trail for several miles, a smooth gravel-surfaced trail. Lady Google directed me up a private drive to the trail, which I thought couldn’t be correct, so, after consulting with a neighbor, I scrambled up a hillside and cut through a short, wild stretch of bush to reach the trail. After, my right riding sandal felt different but I didn’t give it a second thought.
An inspiring yet goofy You Tube adventure cyclist I follow, Ryan van Duzer, always begins each day with his personal mantra (which I’ve adopted). No Crashies! No Flatties! No Whammies! Meaning, here’s to creating the expectation and and energy that the day won’t see any crashes, flat tires, and “whammies,” or unexpected disasters (such as getting chased by killer bees).
Well, when I stopped for lunch in Canonsburg, Pennsylvania I noticed that the strap that goes around my heel of my right foot had ripped and was now hanging loosely, making riding a challenge. This was the result from bush-whacking to reach the Montour Trail, no doubt. Not a major whammie, yet a whammie nonetheless. After I ate, I located and rode to a local hardware store and consulted with the manager. I bought a tube of Gorilla fabric glue and was able to improvise a solution that held for the remainder of the ride. Let’s see if it holds all the way to the Atlantic.
I knew I had a couple of climbs before state route 136 dropped me into the GAP trail, and I knew they were steep. But coming at the end of three hard days of riding, they were rough! They were nastily steep: the first kept to a steady 10% climb for 1.5 miles;the second peaked at 12% for a short but torturous quarter mile. The strain and exhaustion made these climbs truly killer-diller.
What can I say but, “Yeah, yeah, yeah!”