Hoping for a Tail Wind

“M to A to S to K. Wear the mask on your face just to make the next day.” The Fugees apparently predicted all this craziness back in 1995. You pretty much need a mask to go inside anywhere anymore, though the wording of the signs and the adherence to the rules has changed from region to region. But one thing I’m grateful for is that I don’t have to worry about others smelling me. I’m sure they are unknowingly grateful too, because I stink. No amount of washing or showering or laundry can fix this sort of funk. So the mask is my friend and yours, embrace not smelling my stank.

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When a man moves away from nature, his heart becomes hard. ~Lakota Proverb

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After our morning coffee we are fresh and ready to rock this funky joint. Out of water, we hit the nearest pump for some iodine infused well water. Given actual options, it might not be the best choice, but it’s better than dehydration. We’re first on the trail this morning and it’s a spiderwebs-all-up-in-your-face experience for a good hour. Daniel gets genuinely pissed off about it – accusing the spiders of being free loaders and trying to get a ride to Pittsburgh without paying. When we stop I spend a good five minutes getting them off my face and off my gear. I’m sure some are still with me, having crawled into my saddlebags (or panniers if you wanna be a dick about it, scientist.)

Theres very little bicycle or hiker traffic this deep, so we cruise two wide for quite a bit and start chatting about our different bikes. Turns out both Daniel and I are the proud owners of seven functioning bicycles. And we seem to both actually ride all seven. Optimal number if you ask me, though bike nerds will profess that n+1 (where n = however many bikes one currently has) is the appropriate amount. Sounds elitist AF honestly. Deep down, I suspect these are the same folks that correct me about using panniers vs saddlebags.

I’m feeling alright so far but only moving around 10mph on this continued steady incline. In a day or two we will hit the eastern continental divide at 2,392 feet up so I expect the incline to continue. Daniel is moving more briskly so we separate a bit and I get into a bit of quiet reflection mode. My thoughts begin with myself, then of family loved ones. Then coworkers and colleagues. Finally, my thoughts are aligned with humanity as a whole. I’ve hit this point on a tour where I’m my frequency is vibrating in tune with all of the natural world before. It’s a warm and fuzzy feeling that i can’t explain, but it’s abruptly interrupted by the Paw Paw tunnel.

What is this Paw Paw tunnel you ask? It’s 3/4 of a mile long tunnel cut through a mountain built for a canal. Let that soak in for a moment. It is amazing to me. They went to such lengths for a canal that wasn’t in use for very long. Add on that it’s sole current purpose is to facilitate bicyclist and pedestrian traffic and the amaze balls factor increases exponentially. It’s basically a two foot wide, 10 minute ride in almost complete pitch darkness. I don’t have much in the way of front lighting, plus the path surface is highly irregular – so much so that one of the first dips sends me to the left; bouncing off the tunnel wall and almost falling into the canal over the three foot fence to the right. Absolutely wildly exhilarating. Needless to say it is a life experience I have never had before – and that’s a rare find that I love collecting. I capture some on the gopro but the battery is dead before we see the literal light at the end of the tunnel. There’s a few more tunnels ahead, but a DC-bound cross country tourist we encounter a mile afterward lets us know they are all at dimly lit. This one seems to be the one that I will not soon forget.

We roll into Cumberland MD hungry and hot as hell. We want an oasis cafe. Finally one is open. I indulge in two fantastic coffees. Two fantastic over easy eggs. Two fantastic trips of bacon. Two fantastic pieces of sourdough bread. Basically everything was straight Lynn Collins… you better Think. Or if you’re a new jack, it’s straight Rob Base. Do the math. Regardless, Cumberland marks the union between the 184.5 mile C&O and the 150 mile hello Great Allegheny Passage Rail Trail. We hit the grocery store for tortilla and trail mix and begin our journey up the GAP.

It’s literally a steady 1.5% grade uphill for 15 miles straight to our anticipated campsite in Frostburg. Its actually open for tent camping! It’s still hot as hell and there would appear to be no chance of frost in this burg. We take breaks every 5 or 6 miles. I feel like I have a flat tire and this will end up being our shortest day yet, but the steady incline in both altitude and temperature suggests it’s right up there in difficulty.

I’d been hearing thunder in the mountains and our arrival into Frostburg ushers in some rain. I get my tent up before it gets heavy. The campsite is also a hostel, so there’s showers, laundry and a covered patio. I check the first two off my list and hit the covered patio to male some campground dinner. The rain picks up and it’s coming down quite heavily now. This couldn’t be a more perfect spot to enjoy the evening. Daniel and I chat and eat dinner under cover from the rain. The woman working here is from Dallas, so she delivers some playful jabs about NFL football. Everything is bigger in Texas, including her ego. It’s all good fun, so I return the volley with some good awkwardly direct talk and of course I show my ass. It’s the ultimate show stopper and I know it. She doesn’t give me anymore Superb Owl grief after that, but I suspect she enjoyed the showing.

The rain lets up. A rainbow comes out. I stop building an ark to ride my bike onto and enjoy wonderful evening around a fire with 4 other cyclists, sharing stories and jokes. Also, teachable (yet possibly trivial) moments abound, yo: I explain the difference between a fire truck and a fire engine. Someone explains the difference between a cemetery and a graveyard. Daniel complains about overzealous roadies vs what he calls “gravel grinders”. It’s the coolest, least humid night on tour yet and I retreat to the castle, eager to finally sleeping without sweating my nuts off…

The C&O Canal is administered by the National Parks Service. It is one the best preserved and least altered of the early American Canals. It grew from George Washington’s vision of linking the valleys of the early west with east by “ties of communication.” Thats some vision considering how young the nation was at the time. And really, as far as old white slave owners go, how much more fucking awesome can he get?

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I wake up just before sunrise and I’m feeling fantastic. Daniels moving a little slow but we drink some campground coffee and get a move out. The protocol has been to knock out a bunch miles before the heat becomes too oppressive. It’s doesn’t take long for me to get soaked in sweat. By 10am it’s Stevie Wonder Hotter than July hot. Put him and Ruth Bader Ginsburg in bubble wrap, pretty please.

25 miles later and we’re back in yet another cot dayum “Port” town – this time its Williamsport. Im stating to feel like I need my own port. Im literally running on fumes and need something for breakfast. The cafe I spot is closed due to covid. Cue recurring theme music. We hit a gas station and have to do the computer screen ordering thing at Sheetz. Ugh, what utter trash for calories. We take a longer than normal break and talk about how absolutely gassed we are.

We work up the gumption and push another 30 miles to Hancock. I’m definitely struggling and falling behind Daniel at times. But we get there. I hear the town might be named after John Hancock, but I think they mean Herbie Hancock. Fact check that with the ghost of Chris Farley. Either way it’s far superior to Williamsport. We hit the local bike/camp shop; I pick up some dried food dinners and cliff bars. Then we wander out back and there’s basically a hostel. We take free showers and fill our waters. There’s even a freezer full of ice and electricity. Daniel calls it “the Hancock Hilton”. I pass on napping in the bunk beds and instead siesta in a chair before we decide to spend another hour in town grabbing some extra sustenance. Two pubs in town and one has pictures of a confederate flag in google. So we opt for the other because who wants to dine with people who are proud to be losers. And also traitors. Fuck that noise. Good choice as the other – Buddylou’s – is part antique store and part restaurant beer and eats. We enjoy some fantastic food and beer in the AC and Nina Simone and James Brown are playing in the background. The waitress is super awesome. It all feels so “normal”. We discuss how quickly this luxurious comfort will dissipate back into pain and exhaustion once we’re back on the trail. Living in the moment is a must when on a tour of this length. In my opinion, it’s a must whenever you’re alive and maybe even when you’re dead.

In the ultimate dialectic relationship, we were both right about the exhaustion. I felt gassed after just another mile outside of town. The heat is just too much. My hands hurt. My wrists. My elbows. My shoulders. My ass. My legs hurt. Dude, my legs have never actually hurt on tour. They might be sore to touch, but they have never been painful during usage. All this reminds me that I have to cancel my annual physical with my primary doctor because there’s no way I’ll be home in three days…

But I digress.

Every mile is painful. I want to stop every other mile for a break. This heat has changed the game. I play some music and push forward. Mmm. Shoutout to Norah Jones. Damn she’s talented. And fine as fuck. We get the 15 miles in and setup camp at another hiker biker sight. There’s a couple from Richmond here. They did 30 something miles on a weekend trip. We all meet while sitting in the now pretty steady current of the Potomac. My muscles are struggling just to not get swept downriver into some weird non-bicycle having purgatory between Maryland and West Virginia. But the hydrotherapy is awesome. The water is warm but it still eases the total body inflammation. Plus I feel cool as fuck. And I am cool as fuck. And I am ready to set before the sun does.

After 15 years of folklore and second hand sensationalism about the C&O Canal Towpath Trail, I wake up eager to hit it like Ike on Tina. This graded, crushed stone trail connects with the Great Allegheny Passage (GAP) to connect Washington with Pittsburgh via 330 gloriously vehicle and hill free miles. Daniel and I get a little separated in the 7 miles through DC. I push straight across while he goes more toward the Capitol. When we reconnect, Daniel has choice words about not being able to get through due to the entire area being blocked off. He furiously says “Cheeto-lini claims to be tremendous but can’t even go around without 10 blocks of distance from the citizens. Even in Tiananmen Square the people could go in and get themselves run over”. Then he makes a comparison to France and the usages of guillotines. His perspective make me think a bit about our government being of the people, for the people and by the people. Supposedly.

I get on right in Georgetown at mile zero. This trail makes me happy. There’s exactly zero motorized vehicles for the next few days. There’s exactly zero hills for the next few days. There’s exactly zero turns for the next few days.

With the day off and gourmet nourishment, I suggest a century but don’t foresee Daniel wanting to push for a 100 mile day on this tour – mainly because he’s said as exactly that many times over. I’m not sure how concerned I am about getting one in on this tour, but I’m not ruling it out whatsoever.

We push 40 miles and take a break. Then we push 25 miles into Harpers Ferry thinking about shade, ice cream or beer. We decide to get all three and soak up some AC too. History lessons later, but feel free to google John Brown if you aren’t familiar.

After 84 miles we camp at a hiker/biker site along the trail. No fucking vehicles. No electric hookups. No water supply. Just the Potomac River separating Maryland and West Virginia. We’re popping up the castles sooner than average and yet there’s already about 6 or 7 other set up. A few of us cool off in the river.

Later as the sun is setting, the river comes alive with fish and bugs and tides. Then a sun shower slides through just when things couldn’t get any better. A group comes by in kayaks, their leader breaks the ice with “did someone order a pizza”. After that is just ignorant word vomit, including a warning that the folks across the river in West Virginia have been know to get drunk and shoot hikers and bikers. I’m not sure if they do it on purpose or not. He continues about the coming full moon. I decide to move him along with the much more artistic full moon display of my bare ass cheeks. After that it’s a quiet and wonderful evening camped on the Potomac.