Delmarva Tour, June 2009 - Part 5

I awoke at first light, sticky from the sweltering tent. Not wanting to disturb my hosts, I walked across the street to the park to use a chemical toilet and clean up. 



By the time my host was ready to leave for his job, I was packed and ready to roll. We exchanged goodbyes and I sped down Main Street to Rt. 50. I turned at the church on the corner, and noted the historic marker for Nathanial Hopkins, a former slave, soldier in a "colored regiment" and churchman. Hopkins helped found the church, now Scott's United Methodist, and organized yearly celebrations of Maryland's Emancipation Day, November 1, 1864. (Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation had only freed slaves in states in rebellion, as banning slavery throughout the nation by executive order was unconstitutional, and thus freedom didn't ring in Maryland. A vote in 1864 banned slavery in the state.) The town of Trappe still observes Emancipation Day, although it's been moved to mid-October to tie in with celebrations of the town's founding - what the residents bill as "Trappetoberfest."





I turned south on Rt. 50 towards Cambridge. The traffic was light, and soon enough I was at the bridge crossing the Choptank River. Cambridge is near the mouth of the Choptank, and the bridge is very long. Unfortunately, the shoulder is very narrow, and I felt uncomfortably close to traffic. Clouds lowered overhead, making the day nice for photography, but not brightening my mood. Once off the bridge I pulled into the first diner I came across to have breakfast, charge my cell phone, and congratulate myself for surviving the passage. 



The diner food wasn't very good, and already I was beginning to regret I didn't do a better job of cleaning up that morning. Yet the breakfast was redeemed by an unexpected conversation. A middle-aged black man at a nearby table asked me about my trip. "I saw you in Trappe yesterday. You asked me for directions." 

I apologized for not remembering him, and after discussion of my trip, he asked a question I'd often asked myself:

"Why Trappe? Why not take a vacation to Ocean City? There's a lot to do there."

I must have been wound up from riding across the Choptank. That would explain the bluntness of my reply. "Ocean City isn't real. It's commercial and developed. It's crowded with people who go there because other people go there and spend money there because other folks do. It's not real. Now Trappe is real, and the Little Red Schoolhouse is real, and the Wye Oak is real. I'm going to find the real Delmarva, the real Eastern Shore, in Trappe and Wye Mills and Cambridge instead of Ocean City. And I'm finding it. Just this morning I stopped at the church on the corner of Rt. 50 and read about Nathanial Hopkins and Emancipation Day. That's not something I could do in Ocean City."

The man smiled. "I'm pleased to hear that. I'm a grandson of Nathanial Hopkins, about five times separated. You'll come back for our Emancipation Day celebrations?"

I smiled back. "Trappetoberfest? I hope to. Although I think I'll stay at the Hyatt in Cambridge instead of someone's backyard."

Phone charged and good mood restored, I set off to the waterfront. Cambridge, the Dorchester County seat, has a well-maintained visitor center, and there's a lovely little park on the Choptank. Perhaps this display of descending waterfowl isn't the greatest piece of art in the world, but I found it perfect in this setting. 







My mood was restored aside from one nagging complaint. I'd had continuing problems with chaffing in the perineum all trip, but things seemed far worse this morning. I'd taken to riding my Brooks saddle with the cover on it, thinking the pebbled finish was the cause of the problem. The lack of a shower that morning only made matters worse. I sat on the docks at Cambridge wondering how I was going to get through the tour. Finally a call to a Bike Forums member brought the suggestion of A & D Ointment, and I sought out a drugstore in town. I sheepishly walked to the counter with two tubes of a product commonly sold for diaper rash. 

"So, you're on a bike trip? Ride far?" the woman at the counter said as she rang up my purchase.

"300 some miles."

"I'd never ride a bike that far. I'd hurt."

"Why do you think I'm buying this stuff?" And I walked out, all pretense to dignity gone.

Because of the burning below, I altered my plans. I was to ride south to see both the Harriet Tubman Birthplace marker and Blackwater Nature Refuge, but I decided to skip those additional miles and head straight from Cambridge on Rt. 50 to Delmar, my next night stop. I did visit the Harriet Tubman Museum in Cambridge, but found the storefront location to be neglected and dispiriting. I left after I saw a cockroach climb on a rack of literature. "Moses" wasn't treated as well as I hoped, or she deserved. 

Heading east through Cambridge, the Ocean Gateway spreads to three lanes of 55 MPH traffic and little or no shoulder. After a couple of futile attempts to find alternates, I decided to ride the monster. If I were killed at least I wouldn't have to worry about chafing, I thought. So after a stop at a gas station for more liquids and the use of the bathroom to apply ointment, I headed out. A few car horns blew at me, but I stuck to the shoulder as far as I could, ducked into a few parking lots, and soon enough the road sported a wide, clean shoulder again. 

I followed Rt. 50 for the next four hours or so, stopping as needed. Unfortunately this bookstore was closed, otherwise I might have spent time browsing.



I took a brief lunch stop in Vienna, and sat along the Nanticoke and imagined how it might have looked when John Smith explored it 400 years ago. But soon enough I got on the saddle, winced, and headed over the bridge in the photo.





Another stop a few miles down the road led me to get a snow cone and reapply the A & D Ointment. I sent a text message that caused some banter among my friends; I advised them I was doing the ride "Clyde-style. I am stopping for a snow cone." I received motivational texts for the rest of the trip, many on the order of "Keep going. Just think of the snow cones!"

I began to feel more comfortable in the saddle, and I headed towards Delmar with renewed energy. I left Rt. 50 for good near Mardela Springs, and headed North on Rt 54. I crossed the Mason-Dixon line, missing the marker on the Delaware border. I crossed back into Maryland at Delmar, and in a few minutes arrived at the home of my Warm Showers host. I showered, ate, and spent the evening talking about touring with my hosts before retiring.

Delmarva Tour, June 2009 - Part 4

I'd chosen to spend the night in Trappe for a couple of reasons. One was because it was a decent distance from Kent Island. Another was that the next nearest town, Cambridge, was another six miles off, which would have given me a longer day than I wanted. And finally, I found it amusing that my bike shop, Bikesport, was in Trappe, Pennsylvania, and that the two towns came by their odd name in much the same way - from the nickname of a local inn.



That said, there were considerable differences between the two towns. The Pennsylvania town is older, dating to 1717, and very hilly. It also abuts another town, one with a college, and so Trappe PA is abuzz with college students. The Maryland town is flat and rural, just 300 residents, a couple of churches and parks, and one diner, which was closed when I arrived.

I had previous contacted the webmaster for the town and arranged to camp at a nature center a few miles away. However, when I arrived I discovered that there had been some miscomunication between us - the nature center did in fact not have water, and instead of having a combination to unlock the gate, I was told I could "throw my bike over the fence." I was already low on water, and on discovering that neither of the two town parks had working spigots, I began to formulate an alternate plan. In the 2 hours or so I had left of daylight I would knock on church doors and see if they would let me camp in their yard, or at least let me tank up on water. I'd read about other bicycle tourists doing so with success.

As I began to ride down Main Street towards a church, another cyclist pulled up to me. "You wouldn't happen to be from Trappe Pennsylvania, would you?" One of the town councilmen heard about my coming and wanted to greet me. I quickly explained my dilemma, and after discussions with his neighbors and better half I was allowed to camp in his backyard.

Once I set up my tent, I unhooked the trailer and rode off to explore the town. Trappe's most famous citizen is John Franklin "Home Run" Baker, the hero of the 1911 World Series and a member of the Baseball Hall of Fame. One of the town's parks is named in his honor, and he'd probably be proud that the Little League team plays there. His home is one of a number of historic buildings in Trappe.



After a tour of the small town, I rode a mile to a gas station and cleaned up in their mensroom, since I didn't want to disturb my hosts, and then crawled into my tent shortly after my return.

Delmarva Tour, June 2009 - Part 3

Maryland Rt. 50, the Ocean Gateway, is a 55 MPH two and three lane highway running through Queen Anne and Talbot Counties, crossing the Choptank River at Cambridge, and swinging through Dorchester as it turns east for the Atlantic coast and Ocean City. The shoulder is very bikable in most locations, clean and wide. One needs to be careful for turning cars at intersections and driveway entrances, but if you can live with the noise of the traffic speeding past you, it's not a bad ride at all. Most of my riding today and tomorrow will be on this highway.



That said, it's not a pretty ride. Fortunately in Talbot County the Maryland State Bike Map routed me onto Rt 662 for a spell, bringing me to Wye Mills, home of a functioning historic flour mill and what once was the symbol of Maryland, the 460 year old Wye Oak. One advantage touring on a weekday brought me was the chance to get a private tour of the mill, since the caretaker had no one else to talk to. 



The state park was a quarter mile up the road. The white oak tree fell during a 2002 storm, but a seedling was planted in the base of the old tree, and perhaps one day it will rival its parent in size. A portion of the downed tree is on display - the first solid portion, about 30 feet up the trunk. 





I'm afraid I didn't spend enough time at Wye Mills. I missed the historic church and schoolhouse, and the nearby county park would have been worth a few more minutes. 



Continuing on, I kept joining and exiting the Ocean Gateway, adding miles on the highway and enjoying sightseeing when I left. I wish Talbot's Little Red Schoolhouse had been open for a tour when I rode by.



However, the sight of farms, fields rich with corn and barley, brought some consolation.



I skirted around Easton, unfortunately bypassing the historic district to make miles. I stocked up on provisions at a Target, shocking some shoppers who had apparently never seen a touring cyclist before. Or at least one my size. Then off again, rolling through farmlands along flat country roads to my night stop - Trappe, MD. 



To be continued.....

Delmarva Tour, June 2009 - Part 2

Early Monday morning my host came into the spare bedroom and woke me up. 



After breakfast Sadie had Daniel drive me over the Bay Bridge to Kent Island so I could resume my adventure. We arrived at a shopping center at 8:30 AM and I began to assemble the rig. In this photo, Daniel seems a little wary of the weight I'm pulling. Still, it's less than that of a 75 pound Lab.



Daniel's suggestion was I follow the access road to Rt. 18 and follow that through Kent Island, but after he left and I'd ridden it to a store for more liquids, I set my mind on finding the Cross Island Trail. The CIT travels six miles across the island and narrows, offering great views of the bay. I headed north, and while looking for it experienced another example of the serendipity I find while touring. A sign pointed to "Stevensville Historic District", and I followed it to the right. I was rewarded with the sight of Victorian buildings, their bright colors popping out in the morning sunshine. 



At the restored 1902 train station.....



... I met up with a cyclist on his way to work. 



Jim is a roofing contractor, and it seemed everyone in town knows him. We spoke for a few minutes about the town and my bike, Jim taking an especial interest in my trailer. He then told me to follow him for a tour of good buildings to shoot. "I don't want to hold you up from work" I said. "I got two days to finish the job, so I can take a few minutes" he replied as swung a leg over the top tube. And we were off. I'd never have noticed this church without Jim playing shepherd to me. 



After more talk, photos, and riding, Jim led me to the trail head, passersby exchanging good morning with my leader and I. We said goodbye and good luck, friends for a quarter-hour united by a town and two wheels. 

The Cross Island Trail was lovely, offering both shade and scenic views of the water and nearby flora.





After a trip through Nature's realm, it was back to Man's as the trail ended at Rt 18. At the trail end is the Maryland Watermen's Monument, a tribute to those hardy folks who lived their lives, and often gave them, on the Chesapeake. 



As I started on what promised to be a day of riding highways, I noticed a turtle attempting to cross Rt 18. I attempted to herd it across the narrows to the water, and was soon joined by others. We saved two turtles that morning, and I felt I'd partially repaid some of the debt I owed to Nature for the wonderful trail rides I'd had over the previous two weeks. 



Off I went down Rt 18, searching for the bikeable portion of Rt. 50, the "Ocean Gateway." I stopped for directions twice, rode up entrance ramps twice only to be turned back by the "No Bikes" signs, and eventually reached it after a ride through the small town of Grasonville. I saw all the trappings of small town America - the little businesses, the roadside stands, the fire hall and the post office and the homes modest and grand, all inviting me and my camera. However, I had miles to make, and they had to wait for another day. I rode up and onto the Ocean Gateway, and began to grind out miles on the shoulder as 18 wheelers sped past me. 

Delmarva Tour, June 2009 - Part 1

Early in 2009, Bike Forums member Spinnaker proposed a tour for Bike Forums posters on the Montour Trail, Great Allegheny Passage, and C & O Canal Towpath. The three trails cover 380 miles from north and west of Pittsburgh, PA, and Washington, DC. I and several other posters signed up to what promised to be an exciting, taxing, but satisfying trip. Having done the trails twice in 2008, I felt I couldn't leave it at that. "I'm a bike tourist", I thought. "Why not ride home instead of renting a car in DC?" I pulled out maps and requested more vacation time at work. The time off was approved, the mapping went well, and before I knew it I had a planned tour. 

The adventures, and sometimes misadventures, I and the other Bike Forums posters encountered during our week-long trip to the nation's capitol are the subjects of other threads. I was stretched, bonked, and exhausted from the tour, and Bike Forums member ALHanson was kind enough to host me Friday and Saturday nights, June 19 and 20, so I could recover for my departure the morning of the 21st. 

My original plans had been to ride from ALHanson's home in Northern VA to Annapolis, but I increasingly became concerned about the lack of a good bike route between DC and Maryland's capitol. A few exchanges on Bike Forums produced an offer of a ride, and so I was soon at Baltimore-Washington International Airport. I rode the bike trail that circles the airport, followed a connector, and soon enough was headed down the Baltimore and Annapolis Trail to the Chesapeake. The trail offered me both a short day and more time to recover from the knee trouble and chafing problems I'd suffered during the previous week. 

The B and A is a rail trail, with no more than a two per cent grade down to the coast. This being a Sunday, the trail was busy with walkers and riders. The weather was warm but not sultry, and while folks perspired, the air didn't stick to them when they stopped. And there were many places to stop as the trail wandered through the little towns along the way. I paused at the park headquarters, a former train station being restored to its Victorian small-town grandeur. 







Too soon the trail ended. But I had only a couple of miles to the city on roads with moderate Sunday traffic. I'd been advised by a rider I met at a rest stop that Annapolis crab is much better than Baltimore's, and the view of the city from the scenic overlook was not to be missed. "Annapolis reminds me of Venice, with the domes on the churches and the water", he said. I'm glad I stopped, for he was right about the view at least.



Before I knew it I crossed the Severn River and was watching boats pass by.



I called my hosts for the evening, folks I'd met through Warm Showers, the mutual hospitality website for touring cyclists. Little did I know my host was both a celebrity and a dog.

Sadie McCready is perhaps the most famous canine bike tourist of recent time, a distinction that almost tops the phrase "internationally known chess historian" in conversation-stopping ability. Sadie and one of her people, Daniel McCready, the week before my arrival completed an 850 mile tour from Maryland's capitol to Maine to promote the East Coast Greenway. They raised 6000 dollars, spent more than three weeks on the road, appeared on FOX News - Sadie's choice, no doubt, since she is a Lab - and were written up in numerous newspapers. Sadie rode in a trailer and Daniel rode a recumbent. The dog would get out on hills so Dan didn't have to lug her 75 pounds of weight up a grade. 

The photo shows my host and Daniel at Ego Alley on the docks in Annapolis. (Ego Alley is the nickname for the area where private boats are moored. I'll let you guess why the name stuck.) Sadie had been honored by the Mayor at a ceremony, and throughout the evening people would pass by and point, saying "Look, there's Sadie!" Being a Lab, she took it all in good grace.



After dinner, ice cream, and a short walking tour of the historic district, Sadie, her people, and I all set off on a boat tour of the Annapolis harbor. We four were the only travelers on the boat, and the sun was beginning to set. The condition of the light was to a photographer like a doggy toy to a pup:







Once to my host's home, showered, changed, and rested, I soon fell asleep, thinking of the day's ride, and planning to make the next day as full of wonder as today had been.

Natural Water Slides, Ohiopyle and Linn Run

Among the activities I want to throw myself into during my upcoming trip to Ohio and Western Pennsylvania is water sliding. Before you assume I want to visit an amusement park, I should explain that nature is the greatest amusement, and there are at least two places in PA with natural water slides. Instead of a plastic half-pipe, the stream through thousands of years of water flow has polished the stone to the point one can slide on it. 

The better known of the two I've visited is Meadow Run in Ohiopyle State Park. Ohiopyle is a water wonderland, and one of the most visited parks in the state system. Among the attractions is Meadow Run and its slides, which are located just off the main road through town, past the visitor center, Great Allegheny Passage, and falls. There's a parking area and observation platform at the edge of the run, but its more fun to slide than to watch others do so. I know, having done both. 

During my August 2010 trip to Ohiopyle I went down the slides twice. I remembered all the guidelines the park suggests you observe: don't go in during high water, be careful of the rocks, etc. I also remembered advice I'd read online, that the stone isn't perfectly smooth and so it will abrade fabric. Fortunately for both myself and the general public at Ohiopyle I'd left the Speedo at home, and wore a traditional set of trunks. 

As for the slide itself, it was fun. My size and weight meant I needed Meadow Run to pile enough water behind me to push me through, like a massive cork from a pressurized bottle. I got out before the final set of slides, which had a deeper drop. However, getting out wasn't an easy task. I managed to stand up without incident the first time, but on the second I slipped and landed harder than I liked. Witness the bruise two days later. Still, it was a good time, and I know better how to get traction - bare feet slide, but sneakers will give you a better grip. So next time I'll wear water shoes.

Next time might be at Meadow Run, but its possible as well at its less well known cousin, Linn Run in Linn Run State Park. The water slides are about a half-mile down the trail from the parking area. In this case the DCNR has signs up prohibiting swimming, but everyone was ignoring the warning when we visited in July 2012. The slide isn't a chiseled trough as it is at Ohiopyle, but instead it encompasses most of the stream bed. Thus the water flow is at a lower volume and you need to 'help' the stream push you along.  Despite the different nature of the stream, the general rule applies - be careful. Note the two photos below. The young man was unprepared for his dog's running to greet me and so he took an unexpected seat on the bottom of Linn Run. 

When I visited Linn Run, I was only out of surgery a few months, and I wasn't up to trying the slide. Heck, I was barely up to the one mile walk. I'll try to be more careful than the young man with the dog, and myself in 2010, when I'm back to the water slides next month.

Baltimore Hike, November 2006

Again a trip back to 2006, this time a visit to Baltimore to hike with two friends. I'd first met both of them in 2004, when I was over 400 pounds. I was about 275 when this hike took place.

I have little memory of this hike. Nor do I remember the Non Scale Victories mentioned, such as moving forward the car seat. I guess having such things become part of your life is a NSV in itself.

*****************

I spent yesterday in Baltimore, and I have some more non-scale victories to report. I was visiting two friends, co-authors of a study of possible sources for Shakespeare's The Tempest. I'll call them Prospero and Miranda.

The first NSV I discovered on getting into my car, AKA The Neilmobile. There's a lot more space between me and the steering wheel. If this keeps up I may need to move the seat forward.

The drive from my home to Baltimore normally takes 2.5 hours. This trip there was an accident on I-95 that added a half-hour to the commute. Despite that, I had none of my usual road-travel fatigue. I was very
pleased at this discovery, for Prospero and Miranda are both active individuals, and I needed to have energy to keep up with them.

My hosts for the day were very happy to see so much less of me. We had last met in Philadelphia in April, back when I was 330 pounds. Miranda opened the door and exclaimed
"Oh brave new Neil that hath so little fat on you!"
Perhaps the words were different, but the spirit was the same.

After lunch in Mt Washington, Prospero lead us on a mile and a half hike at Lake Roland. I thought I did quite well even though I wasn't dressed for hiking. (Note to self - buy hiking boots for next trip.) I wasn't in the least bit tired, even though the hike involved climbing hills, and I could keep up with Prospero as he lead us up those cloud-capp'd towers.The rest of the day was spent in more sedentary pursuits, but again I had no tiredness or that sense of dull-wittedness that obesity can bring.

In fact, the only time I experienced fatigue the entire time was during the trip back home. I left at nearly 9:00 PM, and as a precaution I stopped at the Maryland border to 'caffinate'. I reached home about
midnight, tired, but tired from a full day of activity, not tired from carrying the weight of two people. It was time to round this little adventure with a sleep.

To some, this pageant I've described must seem insubstantial, but for me being able to participate in life's simple pleasures - a hike along a lake with friends, a trip to a nearby city - and having the energy to enjoy them, is the goal of weight loss. And I hope these revels never end.

"Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep."

First Mount Misery Hike, November 2006

This is an account of one of my firsts hike as an adult, a climb of Mount Misery in 2006. Looking back seven years, there's little I'd change in my description. I'd drop "extremely" when describing how rocky the trail was, and that's it. I was about 275 pounds when I did this hike, having dropped 125 pounds over the previous year. The photo is from a 2008 hike on the same trail. It was taken at the abandoned spring house, and I was a few pounds lighter than I was in 2006.

"This afternoon, I climbed Mount Misery in Valley Forge National Park. It was 1:15 PM when I left the Neilmobile at Washington's Headquarters, and I staggered back to my car at 3:30. During that time, I hiked up the side of Misery, arriving at the top by a little after 2:30. The trail was extremely rocky; last night, online, I stumbled across a description of Pennsylvania trails as "where boots go to die", and I now know the
truth of that saying.

"While at the summit, I hiked a little bit along the Horseshoe Trail, and signed the trail register. I'm estimating that I walked about four miles today, much of it climbing.

"I still have a lot to learn about hiking. I didn't bring enough water, for one. Also, I was far too heavily dressed for the unseasonably warm weather. Halfway up the side of Misery I stopped and removed my jacket and shirt. Fortunately, underneath I was wearing a T-shirt. So in addition to the beauties of nature, other hikers got to see the spectacle of a fat middle aged man with the phrase "I am the kid your parents warned you about" printed on his chest."

Mount Misery, January 1

Someone originated the good idea of hiking to celebrate the New Year. In Pennsylvania or regions that have a winter that's not always easy to do. But this January 1 the weather was cold but clear, and I was full of energy. And to make the trip more fun, I invited my new friend Chris to join me. Since I had limited knowledge of his hiking experience I chose a short excursion. And since I had limited confidence in my abilities at this point in my recovery I stuck with something I'd hiked before.

Our destination was Mount Misery in Valley Forge National Historical Park. The grandly and ominously named hill is across Route 23 from General Washington's Headquarters. We decided to start our hike at noon. Since parking was limited at the trailhead Chris parked at the Visitor's Center and we drove over in my car.

We started at the far side of Mount Misery, near the Knox Covered Bridge. Despite having done the climb a half-dozen times before, I found the effort tiring, but not as tiring as Chris did. Lugging 430 pounds up a hillside is work, and we had to stop twice to let the big guy rest. That gave us a chance to wish "Good afternoon" and "Happy New Year" to the stream of people climbing the hill. It was encouraging to see so many people out enjoying the day, and enjoying it with their children and dogs.


The trails on Mount Misery are typical 'Rocksylvania' - I struggled at times on them. Chris, who was a Boy Scout as a youth, regressed to childhood and didn't let the rocks bother him. Once he was done with the climbing portion he was a chatterbox, talking about anything and everything. When we reached the abandoned spring house he explored it, squeezing into narrow spaces like a ten year old.








It was just past the spring house I came to grief. I had trouble getting down one stretch of trail with a steep grade and I turned my right ankle. Once we got to the benches at the bottom of the hill I sat down and took off my shoe. There was no swelling, but enough pain that I limped through the rest of the hike. Fortunately, we were now on the flat Valley Creek Trail, and what started as a hike ended as a walk. We took breaks often, this time for my comfort rather than Chris'. But as always, stopping is a reason to use a camera.



Before we realized it we were at the Knox Covered Bridge and our hike was at an end. We were cold, tired, and in my case limping, but we had a great time. It was over dinner after the hike that Chris and I realized we hit it off when we hike and ride together. And so a friendship was formed, with a three mile hike on Misery.

Like Us On Facebook

A Taste For The Woods now has a Facebook page. You can "Like" our page and links to our postings will show up in your News Feed.

https://www.facebook.com/ATasteForTheWoods

The Road: Ride on the Abandoned Pennsylvania Turnpike, May 2009

Pennsylvania has more land preserved in parks and forests than any other state aside from California and Alaska. But it also has an enormous number of abandoned structures: homes, mills, blast furnaces, bridges, railway stations and buildings and tracks.... you name it, and its probably lying empty and useless between the Delaware River and the Ohio border. The ranks of the abandoned include many roads, and none more historically significant than the world's first superhighway. 

Lets take a trip back in time. For most of the past two centuries if you were to draw a picture to represent the population centers in the Commonwealth, you would draw a barbell, not a keystone. One stack of weights is Philadelphia; the other is Pittsburgh. The bar represents the 300 some mile distance between the cities. However, a weightlifting bar is straight. A straight line between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh means crossing mountains and major rivers. The state capitol, Harrisburg, is located two-thirds of the distance between Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, and someone driving in the 1930s would have taken six hours to complete the trip from the capitol to the Steel City. Motorists both recreational and commercial wanted a faster, safer way to travel. So in 1938 plans were made to construct a state of the art superhighway between Harrisburg and Pittsburgh, with the idea the road would eventually be expanded to cross the state. On October 1, 1940, the 160 mile roadway opened, and cut travel time from six to two and a half hours. 

The new roadway used much of an old route. In the 1880s construction took place on the South Pennsylvania Rail Road, but the line went bankrupt and left behind seven tunnels through the mountains. Fifty years later these tunnels were refurbished and used for the Turnpike. The photo, from Wikipedia Commons, shows Ray's Hill Tunnel on a night in 1942. 

Skipping ahead to the 1960s, the Turnpike is a financial and engineering success, and now reaches across the Commonwealth. Success brings problems. The Turnpike Commission decides to expand the road to four lanes to reduce congestion and begins constructing new tunnels and bypassing others. Ray's Hill, along with Sideling Hill Tunnel and the roadway between them, are bypassed in 1968. 

When cyclists and hikers began exploring the abandoned road is unknown. But it probably wasn't long after the bypass was opened. The Turnpike Commission bowed to the public and sold eight and a half miles of the old roadway, the stretch from Somerset to Breezewood including the two tunnels, to the Southern Pennsylvania Conservancy for a dollar in 2001. Ever since there have been attempts to get together the financing to open the "Pike to Bike" trail to the public. Officially the road is closed, and people ride and hike at their own risk. The surface hasn't been paved in five decades, and while the tunnels are considered structurally sound, they are unlit and damp. Sideling Hill is over a mile long; Ray's Hill isn't much shorter. 

In May 2009 a group of riders who posted to Bikeforums.net traveled to the abandoned superhighway to ride. Parking was a nightmare requiring finding an overgrown limited access road. But once parked, the cyclists assembled. Most of the vehicles were mountain bikes, hybrids, and comfort bikes. One woman brought a trike. Everyone brought lights. I brought every light I owned.  I was prepared. 

First tunnel up was Sideling Hill. Once I got used to the darkness and the chill I had little difficulty with the ride. My main concern was the slight upgrade through the middle of the tunnel - the grade at some points on the ride was 3 per cent - and the broken concrete I had to roll over. I had to dodge large chunks at some places. Ditto with Ray's Hill. The ride became creepier when someone in the group began whistling the theme from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly in this near-perfect echo chamber. 

Our ride took place a half-year after the production company shooting The Road, a film of Cormac' McCarthy's dystopian novel, had used the Abandoned Turnpike and Sideling Hill Tunnel. In the film the director brought out the bleakness of the early Pennsylvania winter to show a world without hope, but we rode in the late Pennsylvania spring, and lushness was around us. It made a contrast to the crumbling, graffiti covered tunnels. We stopped at times to explore the service areas of the tunnels, and the land around. Or we just enjoyed the views. One never notices the scenery at 65 MPH. At ten to twelve one can do just that. 

Soon enough we neared the end at Somerset, and turned around. Back through the tunnels, back to the cars.  We left the road behind, but we have memories of a great time, and the desire to go back. I hope to ride the Abandoned Pennsylvania Turnpike again this year.