The Major Award - A Christmas Story House and Museum, Cleveland, Ohio, July 2013

Ever since I began my journey from a 400 pound victim to a slimmer and healthier victor I've been asked "What do you do for fun?" The assumption is that hiking and cycling and canoeing and whatever outdoor activities I indulge in are work, and not pleasurable in themselves. For instance, when I've gone on vacation camping, or on a bike tour, I'm invariably asked at some point what I DID. This means, "what tourist-type attractions did you see?"

Well, I usually disappoint my questioners. However, during my July trip to Ohio I visited one such attraction and reminded myself of something I'd forgotten about my weight loss, with the help of my friends Matty and Aaron. And some electric sex gleaming in the window.

This year is the 30th anniversary of A Christmas Story, a classic holiday movie. The film, set in the tail end of the Depression and adapted from the short stories of Jean Shepherd, is now as familiar a staple at Christmastime as It's a Wonderful Life or the various adaptations of A Christmas Carol. While the movie is set in Hammond, Indiana, it was shot in Cleveland, and the little frame house the Parker family lived in still stands on the outskirts of of the city. In 2005 it was purchased and restored to match its appearance in the movie. The owner subsequently purchased two other buildings in the same block, opening them as a museum of film artifacts and as a gift shop. If you want to visit, and you should, you can find information at http://www.achristmasstoryhouse.com/

While I never saturated myself in A Christmas Story, and I missed the endless marathons of back to back showings cable channels indulged in, I'd seen it and enjoyed it. I knew most of the story line and found the restored house didn't miss a detail. There was Lifebuoy soap in the bathroom and the blocks on the shelf in the boy's bedroom spelled out "Oh Fudge." And yes, that's me holding the Red Ryder carbine action 200 shot model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing which tells time. While holding it I could hear my mother's voice saying "You'll shoot your eye out."

But this visit might never had happened. My original suggestion for this trip, the first time Matty and Aaron met, was that we ride on the Ohio and Erie Canal Towpath. It would have to be a short ride, because Matty was recovering from a near-fatal auto accident nine months before and hadn't ridden a bike for a couple of years before that. Fortunately, Aaron had a better idea. He suggested the short hike in downtown Cleveland and subsequent trip to the A Christmas Story House, and it turned out to be the perfect day for the three of us.

At times I get caught up in the idea that more is better, and I constantly have to be doing more - riding longer and harder, hiking further and faster. But losing weight and becoming active means celebrating the small as well as the large. When I was 400 pounds I couldn't hike six miles, but I couldn't walk a block either. Spending a day walking around with friends, climbing steps, is as much a reward of changing my life as my century in 2007 or any mountain I've hiked up. That is the major award, becoming active. And unlike the lamp in the movie, it's not fragile. 

By the way, if you want to turn a group of middle-aged men into snickering twelve year old boys, let them pose with the leg lamp. 

From Mesopotamia to Peninsula - Ohio and Erie Canal Towpath, July 2011 and July 2013

During my Ohio adventures of 2011 and 2013 I did some rides on the Ohio and Erie Canal Towpath in and around Akron. I'll present them stitched together as one ride, starting south of the city and heading north to Peninsula, and written as a guide rather than an account of my experiences.

The official guidebook for the canal towpath called the area to the south of Akron "Mesopotamia" because it's between bodies of water. But it's also fairly barren, with no services until the Portage Lakes area. The scenery along the canal is pretty but the towpath itself is exposed, so don't expect shade.








The trail becomes paved as you enter Akron, rubber capital of the world and crystal meth capital of Ohio. When the towpath trail reaches Summit Lake, tribute is paid to the canal builders. Faced with a swampy body of water to cross, the canal built a wooden, floating towpath for the mules. So the present day trail crosses the lake surrounded by water. Its an impressive view, and there are observation areas along the floating trail. I spent several minutes here one afternoon soaking in the scenery.




The trail rises from the river as it enters downtown Akron. At the time I rode it the north and south sections of the towpath hadn't been connected. I understand the missing link is now in place. In 2011 I had to got up some nosebleed climbs onto city streets. The detour wasn't well marked. I got lost a couple of times, but I eventually found the towpath again. The trail is an urban park as it passes through the downtown, and at times the detour used sidewalks.

The name Akron comes from the Greek words meaning "high place", which explains the trail bridge leading out of the downtown and down a 5 per cent grade for a mile. The reason for the 5 per cent grade is the steep ascent the canal had to make. You get an idea of what the canal builders faced just north of the downtown in the area called "Cascade Locks." The canal needed 15 locks in little more than a mile to get boats up and down from Summit Lake. Once past this area, you are back on gravel and amid nature, following the Cuyahoga.

On my 2011 trip I hung out a few minutes at the small park at the bottom of the 5 per cent grade. This park celebrates the flour and oat mills that Akron was famous for in the 19th century.

Heading north, the trail follows the river. The scenery is wooded, aside from a brief stretch snaking through a suburb of Akron.  I tried to see things off the towpath as well, for the trail has a lot of connecting paths, for walking and riding, that are worth taking. There's a small heron nesting site a few hundred feet off the trail at Bath Road. One trip I rode partway up the mile climb to the Hale Farm, a 19th century 'living museum.' The climb was too much, so I turned around and stopped at Indigo Lake for a couple of minutes.

A highlight on the trail is the beaver marsh. The mammals helped reclaim an old auto dumping area, and the towpath, like at Summit Lake, floats over the marsh. There's a observation area with seating, and on various trips I've seen turtles, fish, heron, and yes, a beaver. On a future trip I'd love to get here at dawn, simply to experience the place at daybreak.

If you feel thirsty or hungry as you approach Peninsula, there is a nice farmer's market that provides fluid and fuel on a hot day. Its only a block from the trail, but be careful, as its busy with cars and bikes coming in and out of the lot.

Riverview Road is flat for much of its length, and it makes a nice change of pace from the towpath if you've done the trail more than once. Drivers seemed to respect bikes even though the shoulders are narrow. Just past the farmer's market is a road leading to the Everett Covered Bridge. The short trail bans bikes, but I didn't realize it. I dismounted when I saw the horses and no trouble was caused. Anyway, its a short walk from the connecting road.

Turning around here on Riverview Road might be a good idea. While its rideable into Peninsula, the climbs are tough. Better to take the flat and scenic towpath, passing by, and sometimes through, canal locks. Soon enough you are in Peninsula. Take some time to see the small town, the locks, the river, the train, Century Cycles, and the main eatery in town, the Winking Lizard.





Mention of the Winking Lizard reminds me of my rides with my friend Aaron. We explored the towpath together, riding from Akron to Cleveland in segments, and our rides always ended with a trip to the Lizard. Those were among the happiest days I've spent on a bike. Aaron also rode with me on the brutal day to Mosquito Lake State Park, and he was coughing up blood the next morning. If our friendship can survive that, I think it can survive anything.

When I was very down after my knee replacement, my weight was ballooning and my activity level was at zero. When other 'friends' were abandoning me, Aaron told me "I believe in you" and stuck with me. So my memories of the towpath are always happy ones, knowing that my buddy was there.... and was there for me when I needed him. I hope everyone who reads this blog has such a friend.

Tacky Amish - East Branch Trail, Spartansburg, PA, August 2013

"That sounds like a bad television program" I said when my friend Troy told me about the Spartansburg Amish.

We were unloading our bikes from Troy's truck at the trailhead for the East Brach Trail, and Troy was unfolding odd stories about the local Amish community. His tale of Amish women dressing 'English' and going to bars at night sounded like a leg pull. But then I remembered the only known murder among these plain people occurred in this region. And then on this very trail there was the incident with the tacks....

Before I get to that, I should present the trail to you. The East Branch Trail is a work in slow progress, with a three some mile paved section above and below Spartansburg, and miles of unpaved, unprepared railroad right of way beyond that. This morning we rode the paved segment, after a good breakfast at an Amish-themed diner in Spartansburg.

The trail itself was flat, paved, and scenic. Troy was, as usual, much faster than me, and was at the trail end waiting for me when I arrived. One benefit of being slower is that I missed seeing the black bear that crossed the trail ahead of Troy. I enjoyed the trail, and if the trail folks get it extended, with either a paved or finished gravel surface, I'd gladly come back to ride it.

After we were back to the truck and done all the goofy stuff we do on the rare occasions we meet, Troy drove us a few miles away to a bridge. The climb from the road to the old railroad right of way was steep, but accessible to horses and buggies, as the slope showed. I huffed and puffed as I reached the top, and walked across the bridge. Troy was standing there taking photos.

"Remember the tacks, Neil? This is where it happened."

In 2005 the Rails to Trails Conservancy held its annual Greenway Sojourn, a group trip of day rides on rail trails in a given area, in western Pennsylvania. They began in Erie and had little trouble until they came to Spartansburg. Cyclists had to put up with Amish picketing the use of 'their' trail by English, and on the stretch of trail I was standing on the trail had been mined with carpet tacks. Reportedly there were two hundred flat tires and the organizers had to scramble to SAG all their riders back to camp. A web search brings up any number of photos of cyclists fixing flats and the Amish picketers.

The Amish complaint, as far as I can tell, is that paving the trail and promoting its use means they will have more problems with "English" using the trail. Such problems can range from photographing the Amish - they object to photographs of themselves because its allegedly worldly - to clogging up the trail obstructing their buggies. I don't find these objections to be reasonable. I've ridden on trails used by Amish and Mennonites in Lancaster and Indiana Counties in Pennsylvania and Holmes County in Ohio, and I've not seen buggies or bikes obstructed nor photographers harassing the Amish.

As you can imagine, a sect that shuns to the extent the Amish do can easily form into small exclusive groups, and it appears the Spartansburg Amish are a bitter and strange cell indeed. While conflicts between the Amish and the greater community are more common than one would believe from tourist brochures, most of them avoid rising to the level of trail terrorism. The Amish of Spartansburg have instead embraced it.

Presque Isle State Park, PA, July 2013

As usual, I tried to cram too much into a traveling day. I left Akron early in the morning, and headed towards my first stop, the southern end of the Western Reserve Greenway. After riding there I headed on towards Erie and my first visit to Presque Isle State Park. I write "first" as I'll undoubtedly be back.

Presque Isle isn't an island, but a peninsula. The French name means just that, "almost an island." If you look at a map of Lake Erie, you'll note a large clawlike peninsula jutting out into the lake, protecting the city of Erie. That sandy, flat strip of land gives Erie, Pennsylvania's fourth largest city, one of the best natural harbors in the world. In the war of 1812 the US Great Lakes fleet was moored at Erie, and Presque Isle timber was used in the ships Oliver Hazard Perry led on September 10, 1813 in the Battle of Lake Erie. To protect the fragile ecosystems and the land's historic significance Presque Isle is preserved as a state park.

My riding route was based on the one provided in a guidebook, but in my haste I made a mistake in my starting point. I chose the Tom Ridge Environmental Center parking lot, which seemed like a good idea until I discovered its located on a hill overlooking the park. The roll downhill was fun, but I wasn't relishing the climb back up at the end.

Once I reached the park a mile later I had flat ground to cruise on. Bikes aren't restricted to the bike and walking path, but I saw no reason to not use it. This was a summer weekday, and traffic on the path was busy. I had to use caution as I passed walkers, wobbly beach cruiser riders, and the occasional slow surry.

Had I arrived earlier I'd have taken in more of the sights. My cycling guidebook suggested taking a water taxi to Erie and riding through town back to the park. I could have packed my swimsuit in my panniers and stopped for a dip into the cold lake water. Instead I was on a tight schedule to get to my friend Troy's farm in Cambridge Springs, so I sped through my 14 mile ride. I stopped at the Perry Monument, the lighthouses, the beach.....had I arrived earlier I could have visited Perry's ship the Niagara, which is moored in Erie, but that will wait until next time. Instead I stopped at the Perry monument, both lighthouses, beaches and moorings and overlooks..... I packed a lot into two hours.

The climb out of the park and back to the Tom Ridge Environmental Center was difficult, but I made it. My seven miles an hour was slow, but my cruising speed was higher when you consider how often and how long I stopped. Next trip Erie and Presque Isle gets an entire day, and perhaps two of them.

Urban Hike, Ohio City, Cleveland, Ohio, July 2013

I'm not sure of the definition of the word "hike", or how it differs from "walk." And in the case of a so-called urban hike, the distinction is even less. That said, even though I'll never be a fan of cities, they are 'outdoors' and such a walk, especially with friends, can be fun.

Last month in Ohio I met my friends Aaron and Matty for one such hike. We traveled through the Ohio City section of Cleveland, across the Cuyahoga River from the downtown. Our first stop was the most impressive, the West Side Market. Like Philadelphia's Reading Terminal, the West Side Market uses an old rail station building. The building is impressive now and must have been very grand when it was used by the railroad. One end of the main building has an observation walkway, and I took advantage of it for photos.

Matty is still recovering from his car accident last October, and the hike was kept to a little more than a mile to not stress him. We stopped for a few minutes at a bike shop to drool over Brooks saddles and get out of the heat. I can't imagine ever riding a tall bike, and just looking at it made me dizzy.

As I was walking around I began to get a feeling of deja-vu. At first I thought it was because I saw hipsters riding on fixies and was reminded of Philly, but then as we returned to the West Side Market I realized I'd been here before. In 2007 I visited Cleveland and rented a bike from nearby Ohio City Bicycle Co-op, and rode on a Bike to Work day event. Our turn around point was the little park opposite the West Side Market. Back then I was still trying to change from an indoor person to an outdoor one. Standing across the street from the market, I reflected on how far I'd come. Then I came to Ohio to research in a library. Now I came to be outside.

The hike ended with a disgusting spectacle. My friends were tempted by an offering at the market, and tried head cheese. I was revolted by the mere idea of such a product, but my companions delighted in eating slices of it in front of me. Still, I was lucky. There were items even more disgusting they could have eaten.

Ernst Trail, Meadville, PA, August 2013

Following my trip to Ohio I spent two days visiting my friend Troy at his organic farm outside Meadville, PA. Troy was eager to show me a couple of his local bike trails, and my first morning we headed out to the Ernst Trail. The five mile main line of the Ernst uses part of an old rail line that crossed land owned by Ernst Conservation Seeds, a company that sells native plant seed for restoration of natural areas. According to Troy one big client of Ernst is the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, who uses their seed mixtures for medians on highways. For more about Ernst and their products visit Ernstseed.com.

We started our ride at the small trailhead on the outskirts of Meadville. Immediately the trail won my heart for having a covered bridge in the first half-mile. Covered bridge purists will note that its not 'authentic', but no matter, I enjoyed riding through it and enjoyed its landscaped setting over a small stream. Troy was happy to see it again as well since his farm helped pay for it. I was happy Troy stopped, as he's far faster than I am.





The trail passes through one of Ernst's fields, and then follows French Creek for a couple of miles. I live near another French Creek, and Troy's is a much bigger stream. Its also more scenic, with benches and an observation platform allowing the rider or walker to take in the views. On this hot August day the shade was welcome, as I was working hard to keep up with Troy. My friend had a bike that was new to him, and while it looked small, it fit him well enough he could use his powerful and organically fed muscles to drop me like a hot rock. Fortunately this was a trail, and I was unlikely to get lost.

The main branch of the Ernst ends at a small park outside of town. But a mile before the end the trail branches off onto an extension. We doubled back and found the new stretch of trail, so new its surface hadn't been improved with pea gravel or pavement. As for the route itself, it runs two miles through some secluded woods and farmland, rolling up and down small hills and at one point using the driveway to a trailer park. We were the only riders on the extension and I loved it for that reason. And the scenery was as beautiful as any I'd seen in Westsylvania.

By the time we'd returned to the truck we had 14 miles of riding for the day. Troy was feeling "peckish" and suggested we ride to one of his favorite places in Meadville for lunch. Voodoo Brewery was less than two miles from us, and I found the ride to be less fearsome than I thought it was going to be. The climb from the trailhead was work, but doable. Yes, I am riding through a crosswalk in the photo, but I was following Troy's lead and besides, Voodoo was right there.



I was rewarded for my riding effort with the best veggie burger I'd ever eaten. It was made with locally sourced vegetables, and was red with beets.
It was so good I was able to ignore the fact my friend sitting next to me was downing beef tongue tacos. I can't speak to the beer selection, as I don't drink, but Troy was pleased with his choice on National IPA Day. As for the bar itself, Voodoo struck me as hipster without the aura of smugness one finds in such places in Philadelphia or New York. And there wasn't a single fixie parked outside. I'm not a person who frequents bars, but I'd come to Voodoo for the food if I didn't live six hours away.

We finished the ride with 17 miles and full bellies.

Matty Rides! Cleveland, Ohio, July 2013

I've been nagging, as only I can nag, my friend Matty to get a bike. So has my friend Aaron. But Aaron is in Ohio and I'm in Eastern Pennsylvania, and we have little influence on a man in Michigan. So when we had the opportunity to meet in Ohio last month, in addition to walking around Cleveland and having lunch Aaron the mechanic met with my friend to get Matty set up on two wheels.

The result? Matty has a bike again for the first time in five years. And, unlike his old steed, it fits him! He'll fine tune his fit, as every cyclist does, but in the mean time he has a bike that's not hurting him every moment he's on it.

Cycling is never a weight loss pill, but its a tool in both losing weight and building fitness. But first of all its fun, and if Matty sticks with it the fun will follow. Matty, when you are ready we can ride some of those Michigan roads and trails together....

North Coast Inland Trail, Ohio, July 2013

My first bike ride in Ohio during my recent trip was with my buddy Aaron. His new home is close to a long and growing multi-use path to the west of Cleveland, the North Coast Inland Trail. We spent the better part of a Sunday exploring the off-road portion of it.

The exploration began tentatively for me, as I felt nervous and unstable when riding. The trailhead at Elyria starts off on a sidewalk and then crosses on a road bridge shoulder till you reach the trail. The bridge is a climb, moderate but enough to cause me to walk the bike halfway up.

I began to feel more at home once I'd caught up to Aaron and was riding on the trail. The old quip "its like riding a bicycle, you never forget how" began to come true. It helped the paved path was flat and had a good surface. And the cool of morning was burning off with the occasional wisp of fog. The woods, fields, and farms of Ohio came into view as we rolled along.






Ohio is a developed state and we were outside a major city, so road crossings were inevitable and frequent. But many of them were low traffic and we could roll through them after checking each way. We traveled slow but steady, much like the freight and passenger trains that crossed on this path a century ago. Artifacts of the railroad days are scattered along the trail - mileage markers, telegraph poles, old bridge abutments, and the restored train station in Oberlin. My need to photograph everything both amuses and annoys Aaron, so I tried to keep my shutter finger in check on the outbound trip.







The North Coast Inland Trail heads straight as an arrow into Oberlin, the town famed for its conservatory and Oberlin College's legacy of breaking barriers in higher education. The trail passes to the south of the college, and aside from crossing a street with a McDonald's on it we couldn't tell we were in a town. The train station across the road from the McDonald's is a nice resting spot, with benches for weary walkers and riders. The brickwork is pretty but I'd not choose it for a bike path.

At the town limits for Oberlin there is a fifth of a mile on road segment before you connect again with the trail. This seems a common trait on Ohio bike paths - both the Western Reserve Greenway and the Holmes County Trail feature such little jogs near their midpoints. But the road segment isn't heavily trafficked or hilly, and we were soon back onto the trail. We reached the town of Kipton, rode past it a mile, and came to the current trail end. It being a Sunday, Kipton was closed, but the afternoon sun lit up the colorful buildings on the main street.


My fatigue increased on the way back, but so did my confidence. We stopped at the McDonald's in Oberlin for lunch, parking our bikes amid all the rides of the college students working there. Refueled - yes, one can make good choices when eating at McDonald's - we headed back to Elyria. Aaron is the stronger and faster rider, and he pulled ahead. Also, I had to stop for photos. When I reached the trail end in Elyria I had no trouble climbing the hill on the road shoulder and getting back to the car. I always have a great time with Aaron, and this was a great trail to ride.

Quail Hollow State Park, Hartsville, Ohio, July 2013

The closest I came to an off day during my July trip to Ohio was a rainy Monday. I used the rainy day to advantage, getting a haircut, stocking up on drinks, filling the tank, and exploring parks between showers. I've written about Wingfoot Lake State Park, and my mile of walking looking at the Goodyear blimp moored across the water. That same day I visited another nearby state park, Quail Hollow.

Wingfoot Lake, as I wrote, owes its status as a state park to the generosity of a large corporation. Quail Hollow is a gift of a family. The 700 acres of land, the rock and herb gardens, and the manor were passed down through the Stewart family, chairman of the Akron, Canton, and Youngstown Railroad. In 1975 the Stewarts sold their home and land to the State of Ohio for half its market value, and Quail Hollow joined the state park system.

The park features a nature center in the manor buildings, but unfortunately it was closed when I arrived. My car was alone in the parking lot, and no one seemed to be around. The trails were open, however, and I began to explore. The rock garden was undergoing restoration, but the floral and herb gardens were open. I enjoy the decoration Nature performs, but Man can do a heck of a job too. The gardens were amazing, and a tribute to the volunteers at the local gardening clubs who come in to keep them in shape.

Between the rain and the mosquitoes I kept my walk to under a mile. I enjoyed myself at a park I wish I'd spent more time at. My haircut could have waited; had I arrived earlier in the day the nature center would have been open, and I'd have a better idea of the best hike that afternoon. I have to add Quail Hollow to my "get back to" list.

Trolley Trail, Erie National Wildlife Refuge, Crawford County, PA, August 2013

Near the end of my vacation I spent two days with my friend Troy on his organic farm near Cambridge Springs, PA. Like most of my friends, Troy is a cyclist and not a hiker, and so we spent our time riding. But I wanted to get my boots dirty at least once more before I traveled to Pine Creek Gorge and took on the Raven's Horn, so I scanned the Internet for a hiking trail. Having stumbled across the Trolley Trail, I planned to hike it one afternoon, after a ride with Troy.

Our trip to Meadville and the Ernst Trail went much longer than I anticipated, and we didn't get back to the farm until very late in the day. I changed from my cycling shoes to my trail runners and drove over to the trailhead outside of Cambridge Springs. The light was beautiful, giving a glow to the surrounding hills. I walked out into the wetlands field surrounding the trailhead with enthusiasm.

But the enthusiasm didn't last. I'm not sure why I turned around a half mile into the 1.5 mile trail. The hiking wasn't difficult. The trail was well-marked and level, and not rocky at all. Looking back, there were probably two reasons I left when I did.

One was it had been a long day. I'd ridden 17 miles with Troy, who is a much stronger cyclist than I am, and even if I didn't feel drained, I had some fatigue. The second was that I'd been two weeks on the road, ridden nearly 240 miles, hiked 8, and driven four hundred some. I'd ridden every day for a week. While I call myself a formerly sedentary man, I'm not to the point I can be active constantly. So I was worn down. Again not so much physically as mentally. I needed, subconsciously, a break. So I turned around.

The problem with turning around where I did was that I missed the best parts of the trail. The Trolley Trail, as the name implies, follows an old trolley line. The trail has small stone bridges further towards Cambridge Springs, and passes near an old cemetery. Had I continued I'd have seen them and stopped for many photographs.

Fortunately for me, the Trolley Trail will still be there. Troy is a friend I don't see enough of and his farm is a slice of heaven. I will be back, and when rested and in a better mood, hike the trail with a lighter heart.

Western Reserve Greenway, Trumbull County, Ohio, July 2013

As I mentioned at the end of my previous post about the Western Reserve Greenway, having ridden the northern end of the trail, I wanted to ride the southern end. My chance came the day I left Ohio. To get to my next destination, Erie, I had to pass near the trail, so I plotted a course to the Oakfield Trailhead, between Ohio Routes 87 and 88.

The stretch of the Trumbull County section of the trail I rode, between the two numbered Ohio roads, was very much like the Ashtabula County section - passing through woods and farmland. The highlight of the ride was stopping at the Mosquito Lake Wildlife Management Area, just a couple miles north of the trailhead. A wooden observation platform stands next to the trail, and gives you a great view of the small lake. The platform is old and rickety, and the area is a favorite for ducks and geese, to judge from the droppings on the trail. I had to dismount and walk carefully when I stopped for photos.

Like the northern end, the trail has a lot of road crossings, but most of them were on little used roads. Still, there were signs posted stating traffic doesn't stop for trail users. I don't know if it was a Buckeye State way of emphasizing that one should be careful at crossings, but I used caution riding across the roads.  I walked my bike across Ohio Route 88. By then I realized if I continued riding south I'd be running short on time to ride in Erie, and so I crossed back and returned to the car.

The ten miles I rode were a wonderful break from the long drive to Erie. When I'm back in Ohio I'll be sure to ride the Western Reserve Greenway again. Peter, my host, suggested riding the whole 43 miles out and back, and that's a possibility once I get my fitness back. But really, any section would do.

Brecksville Reservation, Cuyahoga Valley National Park, Ohio, July 2013

I had one sunny day set aside for hiking during my Ohio vacation last month, and I started with a mistake. No, the mistake wasn't beginning with Brecksville Reservation in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. It was assuming Brecksville was a beginning, and I was going to be going to a lot of places in different locations in the park. Instead I turned into an outdoorsman version of the tourist in Art Buchwald's "three minute Louvre" column, and in trying to see everything saw next to nothing.

Brecksville is on the west side of the Cuyahoga River, on Route 82. The day I visited the sun was out, the temperature was up, and the park was crowded with families. I started with a short walk to the Environmental Education center, feeling cooler under the trees. The center itself is in an old Civilian Conservation Corp cabin, and has displays geared towards introducing children to the outdoors. After a few minutes there learning just what might be hiding under an old log, I resumed my walk.









The highlight of this part of the park was the miniature prairie. I've seen pint-sized wetlands in Pennsylvania parks, but I was impressed with Brecksville's presentation. I spent a few minutes walking through the fields, observing the bees and butterflies and the flowers. I felt light at heart. At least until I realized I had a schedule. I should have stuffed the schedule in my pocket - carry in, carry out - and spent the day here. Instead, I moved on. Further down the park road by car, when I could have hiked it.

 My second stop in the park was along Chippewa Creek. The waterfall on the creek is a popular lunch stop for local residents, as the overlook to the gorge has a half-dozen picnic tables, and all were occupied when I was there. The falls themselves are visible from a distance, hidden under a bridge. There were signs posted warning not to enter the gorge, and I'd not have attempted to scramble down the rock walls.




From the picnic and parking area at the falls runs a wooded trail that leads back to the Environmental Education center. I hiked a mile of it. As usual with hiking in Ohio, the trail surface was a pleasure compared to Rocksylvania. The portion of the trail I hiked ran along the edge of the gorge, and at one pointed turned onto an overlook upstream towards the falls. No picnic tables here, just woods and me. The shade was comforting in the still Ohio heat. I hiked about a mile total along the Chippewa. Time, and the fact I'd decided to try new insoles in my boots and they weren't working out, cut short my hike. I went back to the car, change to my trail runners, and drove on to my next stop.

I had a good day, and enjoyed everything I saw, but in the end I would have been better served by staying put. My mental rush was partly caused by the length of time it took me to get to the park from my host's home outside Akron. Had I left early in the morning I'd have beaten the heat as well as northbound traffic and have been able to hike longer. Or I could have left the Tinker's Creek and other sites for another day.

Also, my old sedentary habits might have been manifesting themselves again. When I am alone my hikes and rides tend to be shorter and easier. All my hiking in Ohio was alone, since most of my friends are cyclists and not hikers. So I rode up to 36 miles at a time in Ohio but had no hike over a mile.

So the long and short of it is that I tasted Brecksville Reservation instead of drinking it deep. Next time I am back in Ohio I need to hike that entire trail along the Chippewa and spend a day enjoying the park, instead of driving all over.

Western Reserve Greenway, Ashtabula, Ohio, July 2013

During the planning for my 2011 attempt to ride across Pennsylvania and part of Ohio I came across a rail trail named the Western Reserve Greenway. This 43 mile trail ran from near Lake Erie in a town with the melodious name of Ashtabula to just south of the road I'd be riding to my night stop on the first day of the tour. The trail didn't fit into my plans for that trip but I mentally noted it for a future ride.

Two years later I was back in Ohio. My host, Peter, wanted to ride the Western Reserve Greenway. I did as well. We differed on how we wanted to ride it, however. My idea was to ride the length, and then camp overnight at nearby Mosquito Lake State Park, riding back the next day. Peter wanted a day ride. After thinking about it I reached the conclusion that an overnight tour would be too much, not in terms of the number of miles, but in the time and effort to do it. So we set up a day ride for a Sunday and hoped for good weather.

We had the weather we wanted, sunny, mild but not hot, and a slight breeze. We parked near the northern end of the trail and followed it to its conclusion, a dead end at railroad tracks a mile from the lake. Turning around, we headed south on the paved path, Peter's trike racing my touring bike. We had a slight problem at the trail closure at Interstate 90, but we dismounted and walked through the construction. By the time I post this ride report the construction might be complete and the trail reopened.

The trail has many road crossings, but it rambles through Ohio farm country, so the scenery is great. From Astabula the trail moves up a slight grade, but levels off once past Interstate 90 and continues flat aside from some road crossings and a quarter-mile on road detour at the town of Rock Creek.

Just south of the road segment is Rock Creek Trestle. This structure has an observation deck on the side with three picnic tables, and it was here we stopped for lunch. After 15 miles and the long drive from Akron I was hungry, and while my Brooks saddle is breaking in, it felt good to be seated. Peter as a trike ride brought his lounge chair with him, of course.

Once we were fueled and rested, we continued south. I needed to, ahem, unhydrate, and there was no bathroom at the trestle. We continued south past a swamp and more farm country until Peter and I found what we needed. Mission accomplished at the 18 mile mark, we turned around and headed north.

By now the sun had been covered with clouds, and the temperature was dropping. I felt like rain was on the way. As Peter and I argued over the forecast I scanned the skies. I subconsciously pushed the pace, and Peter asked me to slow down a few times.

By the time we'd made it through the construction zone at Interstate 90 the first raindrops fell. I stopped to take a couple of photos and told Peter he didn't need to wait for me. Perhaps excited at riding a downhill, h took off. I struggled to keep up. The feared rain turned out to be a minute of a shower, and that's it. Still, I pushed hard on the final miles.

I was tired but pleased with my efforts as I helped Peter put my bike on his rack. We'd ridden 36 miles, which was my longest ride since July 2011. My fatigue found me the next day, and I restricted myself to a short recovery ride. But while the Western Reserve Greenway ride was exhausting, it was worth doing.

Sippo Valley Trail, Massillon, Ohio

There are some trails you want to visit again and again. There are some you visit once and are done with. And then there are some you want to ride again if the problems are fixed. The Sippo Valley Trail is the last described. 

I tried to ride the Sippo in 2011. However, after riding through Massillon (which is pronounced "Mass-lin", I'm told) to the trailhead I didn't get very far before I came across a burnt out bridge. The arsonist's work was removed and replaced with a new wooden span, and on a rainy Saturday afternoon my friend Dan led me across it during our trail ride. I wonder how long its going to remain intact.

Even though the trail starts in an urban area, it immediately is surrounded by trees and aside from a couple of road crossings it looks wooded as it snakes out of town. Once in Ohio farm land the paved surface gives way to pea gravel, and then to a mix of gravel and dirt. The trail becomes narrow at times. Grass grows on the trail median. And it continues like this to the final couple of miles outside of the town of Dalton, at which point the trail surface is paved again. 

I was impressed with nature along the ride. The Sippo passes through some beautiful land. But then I found litter and graffiti and my mood sank. We paused at one defaced bridge and read the news aloud.

"Dan, did you know Ryan is gay?"

"No. But Kami is hot."

Before we reached Dalton the rain had stopped, and the sun began to emerge as we rode back. However, the trail remained muddy, and we both had close calls as our bikes slid through the mud. In addition the soles of my cycling shoes became very tractionless by the end of the ride, and I slid a little when I made the mistake of walking on a wet wooded bridge for photographs. Both the bike and I became muddy during the ride. Although my panniers took the brunt of it, I got dirty too. 

Our trip on the Sippo was 21 frustrating miles. I had a great time with Dan, as usual, but the trail itself has a problem. Why scribble calumny about Ryan and Kami on  a bridge over a stream? Or why burn a bridge? Why dump trash on a trail? All trails have problems of some kind, but the Sippo has the worst: people who have no respect for it, and no respect for themselves. Massillon has a lovely trail. I wish it had better people around it.