The day has come! Gear is tucked away in their respective panniers and bike bags, snacks are busting out of all the extra spaces, and everything is loaded into the car. I am ready to drive the 6 hours to Washington D.C!
As described in a previous post (with route details for the closures), I have six days to bike from Washington D.C. to Pittsburgh, following the C&O Canal towpath and then the Great Allegheny Passage (GAP). While March isn't a popular time to bike (the weather is still questionable, and there are multiple seasonal closures), it's my spring break, and I desperately want to get on the bicycle.
I admit that I waited until the last minute to begin packing for this trip. Fortunately, I have everything that I need...I think? There is the very real possibility that my tires are too thin. Most people seem to use tires greater than 700 x 38mm. Currently, my Fuji bike has a back wheel of 32 and a front of 28. If I could accommodate a wider tire, I would, but my fork is too small, and I don't have another bike that will work. I am really hoping this will be satisfactory on the crushed limestone/ muddy bike paths, and I have a high tolerance for discomfort. Fingers crossed!
Day 1 Washington D.C. to Harper's Ferry: Mile 61.5
(61.5 miles, 545 ft of gain, Strava map)
March 10th. The alarm went off at 6:30 AM. My older brother got to work brewing his usual coffee: the type that makes the hair on your arms stand up and your heart race just at the smell. After pressing the overly fine-ground coffee and exploding the coffee up the kitchen wall, I quickly downed a cup and wrangled my final items into the bike bags, lumbering out the door into the cool, brisk, morning air. I felt jittery with nerves, and I found myself going through the motions of tinkering with my packs, trying to suppress my anxious thoughts. This would be my first solo bike tour after all.
Navigating to the center of D.C. was a beautiful and refreshing ride. I took the easy 7-mile Capital Crescent bike trail from Bethesda and casually meandered down the route. For a chilly yet moist morning in March, there were numerous joggers and walkers, and Spring was starting to subtly show her signs of arrival. Song birds were fluttering and chirping in the trees, and bright-green new growth was starting to sprout on the woody vegetation. My initial worries faded as I rode along, the familiar feeling of sitting on a bicycle kicked in. I did know how to do this after all.
And there it was: the Washington Monument in all its tall, pointy glory. For a Friday morning, it was pretty low-trafficked. After a few wrong turns, I found the paved path that would take me onto the C&O, and the change in terrain onto the towpath was striking. The wondrous asphalt morphed into pot holes and loose rocks of varying sizes that covered the trail. I was very grateful for my biking gloves which absorbed the shock, and I momentarily wished that my tires were larger. After jiggling along for 20 miles, the trail started to smooth out. In my opinion, the beginning of the towpath out of D.C. was the worst of the entire C&O canal ride, with the exception of the PawPaw tunnel detour (Day 3).
I knew that the weather was going to be temperamental. The week before my tour, it was 50-60F and sunny, but this week? Not quite. I was lucky if the temperatures reached 45F, and the rain began to softly sprinkle. I didn't mind, however. Moving steadily uphill kept me warm, and there were plenty of waterfowl to keep me entertained. Ducks would get flushed out of their grazing spots when I would bike by, and I passed multiple herons slowly tip toeing through the water looking for fish. It was peacefully quiet; few people besides myself wanted to be outside, and the gentle pattering of rain was calming. I also enjoyed being sandwiched between the Potomac River and the Canal, and it felt remote even though I was so close to a major city.
The neat thing about the C&O towpath is that history is woven into the ride. There were lock houses along the way and periodic markers detailing the history behind the location. Some of the lock houses were in perfect condition while others were in ruins. Fortunately, there were camping spots and portable toilets often, allowing cyclists to easily pitch a tent in a large, grassy picnic area beside the Potomac River. I never saw anyone camping, though I can imagine these sites get traction during nicer times of the year. Also, the towpath itself varied; there would be loose dirt and gravel, compact gravel, pavement, single track or double track. I know that most people say the towpath is worse than the GAP, but, on the whole, I found it easy to ride on my 28/32 tires.
What surprised me was the lack of direct town access. I had thought the route would pass more intentionally through towns, but you have to physically leave the trail and seek out road routes to get into towns. Irregularly, you will see signs of buildings from the trail which can make it easier for navigation, and Cumberland, MD was the only town that the towpath physically passed through. Also, internet availability varied for me, an AT&T user. I would sometimes have all service bars, and often only have SOS functionality. Most of the time, my iPhone 11 waffled between 1 to 2 bars of service.
After 60 miles, I arrived in Harper's Ferry via the long bridge that spanned the Potomac and lead to a row of quaint businesses and historic brick buildings. This town received Appalachian Trail hikers, tourists for the history, and cyclists for the C&O, so I anticipated some neat attractions. I was excited to visit and get some hot/fresh food, but all the restaurants were closed when I arrived (on a Friday at 5 PM). It was also beginning to downpour. I had made a dumb mistake by assuming my WarmShowers host lived in Harper's Ferry, but they lived another 9 miles north of town, all uphill. A little dejected, cold, and wet, I hunkered under an awning trying to get my phone to charge while figuring out the navigation.
A curious onlooker, a man in his 40s or 50s who was doing construction in town, asked me what I was doing and pointed out that it was both raining and that all the stores were closed (in case I didn't know). After watching me accidentally go the wrong way and turn around, he offered me a ride to my hosts' house. I couldn't say no; I was cold and tired and now very wet. With two younger workers, they loaded my bike into the back of their pickup and drove me the extra miles. Comically, they were worried about me staying in a stranger's home, even though I was a stranger to them and them to me. Before leaving, the older man gave me his card with his number, in case I ran into any trouble.
Pulling up to a cute, white house with blue shutters, a tan, thin man in flannel came out smiling and waving. Cliff welcomed me inside and was so friendly. He and his wife, Denise, a shorter blonde woman, were incredibly accommodating and kind. Before taking my shoes off, I was offered beer and a cheese/fruit/cracker plate. They made me the most delicious tortilla soup for dinner and provided me my own bedroom with the coziest marshmallow bed. It was so easy to talk to them for hours, and they invited me back if I was ever in the area again! A great way to end the first day.
Day 2 Harper's Ferry, WV to Hancock, MD (Mile 124)
(61.5 miles, 620 ft of gain, Strava map)
I woke up to massive cup of coffee (which I surprisingly did finish) and birds singing outside the window. Their bird feeders were a major hub of avian activity, and there were so many species that I had fun trying to identify. Cliff made me an amazing bowl of oatmeal with at least five types of fresh fruits, and I spent some time washing my bike and re-greasing my chain from the muddy towpath. The slow morning was very welcomed.
I didn't backtrack to Harper's Ferry. Instead, I took some curvy, hilly roads though the countryside to get to Shepherdstown, passing a few cow farms along the way. The road cycling was a refreshing change of pace, allowing me to be speedy and enjoy zipping around the road's curves. I didn't mind not biking every inch of the C&O; my goal was to bike to Pittsburgh and to have fun. Though it was a very windy morning and the air had a frosty nip to it, the sun was shining brightly, and I was in a great mood. I was generally feeling physically good, but my sit bones were achey from the previous day. I knew that it was going to be a tough second day of 60 miles. After all, yesterday was the longest ride I had done in 2023 so far.
I stopped at a Shepherdstown gas station for some fresh food, trying my best to not rely on packaged snacks for every meal. After many miles on the road, the packaged, sweet food becomes sickening, and all I crave is real food. Also, I didn't bring cooking equipment because I wanted to travel lightly. So, I bought a sub that I would have for lunch, and this had become my daily routine. Quickly passing through Shepherdstown, I switchbacked onto the trail, which was nicely paved for a short period of time.
My mom was going to get a rental car and drive down to meet me in Hancock and Cumberland where we would camp, an exciting mom-daughter trip that we were both happy to have. I didn't bother bringing a tent since she was going to bring a large one. Unfortunately, an issue with the rental car company meant that she couldn't make it, and we were both distraught about it. I spent the rest of the day feeling pretty low and sad, albeit having one of the nicest days of weather the whole trip.
I had forgot about the rental misfortune for a brief moment when I biked across my first detour. There were cranes and plastic barricades blocking the towpath, but the route looked perfectly undisturbed for as far as I could see down the path. Often, there is a tree down or something else random blocking the trail, and I was sure that I could probably sneak by. I originally tried taking the road detour, but I had no idea how long it was, and the shabby houses with barking dogs reminded me of my boyfriend's dog bite a few months back. So, I wrangled my bike over the barricade and began biking down the forbidden section. As I approached three workers, they stood staring at me, no doubt thinking "What idiot member of the public can't read the sign." I dismounted and asked if I could pass.
"No, it's closed," a white bearded older man in a backhoe gruffed firmly. He persistently questioned how I got there, emphasizing the barricades and detour signs. I confidently said that I went around them, and he, again, looked at me incredulously.
"Can I please pass?" I asked again. "There is a 25 ft hole there and no way around," he replied, non-budging.
"Do you mind if I go take a look?" I pushed again, not wanting to bike back the way I came.
"No, it's closed. You shouldn't be here, it's illegal."
"So, there is no way around...at all? I really can't just go check?" After sparring with him for a few more minutes and ensuring him that I'm an ask-forgiveness-not-permission kind of person, he paused. Then, he nodded.
"So...I can go?" I asked hopefully. He nodded once, grumpily. "But don't tell your friends! This is still closed for a few more weeks!"
As I happily biked past, I immediately observed the extreme lack of a 25 ft hole, and the fact that the towpath looked perfect. I thought about that interaction for a while and wondered how much of my successful persuasion was because I was the only female (in braided pigtails, bright pink jacket, and pink bike) talking to three men. For wearing so much pink, one would think that I actually liked the color.
About 40 miles in, I became very tired and was getting more sore and muscle fatigued. By mile 60, I was ready to be done. I stopped in a Burger King for a vanilla frosty and some fries and navigated to Hancock's Super 8, my resting stop for the night. I'm not a credit card camper, but the cold weather, lack of tent, and dejected mood had me craving a shower and warm bed. By 6:30, I was nestled in my room, an image of the Washington Monument towering over the bed, reminding me that I had come 120 miles. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows playing on TV was the icing on top of the cake.
Day 3 Hancock to Cumberland, MD (Mile 188)
(59.6 miles, 486 ft gain, Strava map)
I checked out of my hotel fairly early. Daylight Savings Time had made my mornings darker and my evenings brighter, something I wasn't super happy with since that meant a chillier wakeup. I wish I had explored Hancock a little more, it seemed like it could have been a great place to get diner food and coffee. I instead opted for a speedy pitstop at the nearest gas station to buy fresh snacks (fruit, sandwich, and cheese sticks) and batteries for the GPS Spot. Afterwards, I navigated to the very enticing Maryland Rail Trail, which ran alongside the C&O canal for a while (about 17 miles). It was hard to choose bumpy gravel over buttery pavement that was running parallel to me, and I didn't feel guilty riding this instead of the towpath. I could spare my sore butt a few extra potholes, and I could put in a some very quick miles. Today was going to be a bitterly cold day, and the whisper of incoming snow on the TV had me wanting to get a lot of fast miles in.
Around mile 15, I had a quick pit stop at Bill's Place, a hillbilly bar that served typical greasy American food. The decor was a mix of beer can ornaments, guns, anti-Joe Biden statements, and other country-related themes. The ceiling was also covered in autographed bills, about $10,000 in total I was told. Here, I took the opportunity to load up on some extra gooey delicious pizza, a calorie-dense delicacy on the road.
"Will my bike be OK if I leave it outside?" I asked the squat man with a gray mustache and thinning hair who was sitting behind the bar.
"Do you see anyone skinny here? You could leave it out there a week!" He responded humorously. "It's gonna snow you know." "I'm hoping it won't stick since it's above freezing." I said hopefully. "Where you're going," he said without looking up from his writing, "it'll stick."
I took his comment with a grain of salt. After all, people usually gave grave warnings and ominous, negative advice to me, and they have often been wrong. Later, his employee came in and began chatting about the couple inches of incoming snow. I was starting to get a little worried. On top of the snow warnings, I was reminded that I was biking the wrong way. Most people bike from Pittsburgh to D.C. because it is downhill at a slight grade. They probably don't bike in March either, just my guess.
After the rail trail converged with the C&O again, I spent much of the day dodging sticks and woody debris as best I could, afraid of busting a spoke which I couldn't repair myself. Then came my second detour of the trip came, one that I didn't think I should ignore. The PawPaw tunnel was a substantial hike-a-bike section. It was about a mile detour and required an upwards hike of 400 ft. This may not seem like much, but hauling a loaded bike uphilll is challenging, and the 400 ft were very slippery and sticky. Construction had left large, water-filled ruts in the ground, and the clay was wet and tacky. It was akin to walking through peanut butter. My shoes kept slipping, my bike wouldn't stay upright, and the mud lodged in between my breaks and coated the wheels. It easily added an extra hour onto the day. I'm having fun. This is a great time, I kept repeating to myself. The downhill was almost as precarious as the uphill with the steep grade, uneven terrain, and large rocks hidden under a layer of leaves. I had to dismount and walk a few times, and by the time I was back on the towpath, my shoes and pants were coated in mud.
Then, the snow started falling. I thought of the dire warnings from the bar, but I was listening to good music (my playlist for when I need motivated) and kept chugging along, morale surprisingly high considering the uphill fight and worsening weather. I knew this day was going to be cold, and I was bracing for a bad bike ride. It actually turned out to be one of my favorite days on the tour, courtesy of a positive mindset, upbeat music, and taking the hard bits in stride.
I passed more lock houses as the snow dusted the ground. Herons and ducks frequently flew by me, and groups of whitetail deer would burst through the woods and gallop away, their tails flagging and bouncing before disappearing. Outside of these brief wildlife encounters, it was a lonely day on trail.
As I neared Cumberland, my biking efforts felt labored. For as hard as I was pedaling, I was surprised to only be going 6 mph. I chalked it up to the soft ground I was sinking into and the 50+ miles I had already put in. When I arrived into town and began biking on pavement, it became clear that I was riding a flat tire. For how long, I have no idea, but I suspect it had something to do with the downhill descent from the detour. I used my hand pump to air up my tire just enough to limp to the Ramada hotel where I could perform a thorough puncture inspection. Since the hotel staff wouldn't allow me to bring my bike up to the room, I brought it up in pieces to wash the clay off in the tub. For the rest of the frame, I took it outside for a water bottle bath. I never did find a hole in the tube to patch, but I fortunately had a spare tube to use instead. I spent the evening mending my tire and drinking a Yuengling, which you could conveniently buy at the front desk.
Cumberland, MD seemed like a super cute town. It's covered in bricks and cobblestone and has a lot of cute shops. The towpath takes you right across town, passing a bike shop and other little store fronts. There are art murals around town and historical informational markers periodically placed. There wasn't much open when I arrived, a theme to my March tour.
I slept well that night, and I looked forward to beginning the Great Allegheny Passage where the Internet promised me smoother riding. I was officially halfway done!
See the rest of my journey from Cumberland to Pittsburgh here!
Don't forget to check out the video of the trip!
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