Saddle Sores

I write this from room 418 in a dingy Cumberland Ramada Inn. The carpet is worn. The couch feels like a concrete slab. The vending machine/ice maker on this floor has a sign directing me to floor 6 for ice and to the front desk for snacks. The front desk has a few Walmart floating shelves housing dollar store candies with hand written signs saying “ANYTHING ON THIS LEVEL $2”. And as I was trying to ask for a room at said desk, some large loitering man with a lazy eye and wearing a stained wife beater told me all about how he's a grandfather at 41, used to use his welfare check to travel to NC (but didn't have enough money leftover to do anything once he got there), and that he's a businessman looking for an “angel investor” to help finance some of his business ideas.

Hey, cool story Jarnell. Good talk. Ok nice to meet you goodbye forever byeeeeee byeeeee see ya byeeee…

In spite of all this, I'm thrilled to be where I am. Do I wish the better hotel I walked into first would have had a room available? Sure. But would the extra $80 spent on updated lodgings and some front desk security make me that much happier?

…probably BUT THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT.

The point is, I did it. Well, half of it. I rented an SUV. I drove it to Pittsburgh, a city I had never been to. I pulled my bike out of the back, lugged it into a waterfront hotel room, then started pedaling the next day.

There were mishaps. A full on comedy of errors at times. I'm sore everywhere and sunburned and the saddle hurts more than I care to admit. I spent 7.5 hours in the saddle yesterday and 6.5 more today, the vast majority of it struggling to urge burned-out legs carry me over the eastern continental divide. Slow, tedious plodding. The second half of each day was just a mile or two at a time before needing to dismount and rest for a minute. Hour after hour. Multiple days.

But I did it. 150 miles from Pittsburgh to Cumberland. Climbing over 2200 feet of elevation along the way.

Did I mention my total cycling training for this in the last decade was the mile out and back to a downtown brewery last Saturday?

I'm gonna do some sort of full write up, journal style, while all this is fresh. That'll be for another time, because I don't think I'd be able to stay awake and focused long enough to do it justice right now. But I wanted to get something written down while I'm on this adventure, and here at the halfway point seems a logical place to do it.

This has been a lot of fun.

The pedaling up a mountain was grueling. The camping multiple nights in freezing temperatures, to the point that I could see my breath in my tent as I was trying to sleep, was trying. Those are the parts that contribute to the sense of accomplishment now that I've completed the first half. That's nice.

But, even more enjoyable, has been the rest of it. The way every mechanical issue with the bike forced me into small Pennsylvania towns to interact with and rely on people I'd have never encountered otherwise. The way staying in these small towns got me out into their bars or shops to hang with the locals at their favorite haunts. Running into a couple of older adventurers at multiple points along the trail and getting to hear their stories of being out in the wilderness roughing it. Meeting a campsite owner, who ran Iditarods for years, and his STUNNING 100lb husky/wolf (?) mix. All of these little interactions, inserting myself into places where I ran into people I wouldn't have otherwise met and got a glimpse of their lives in the process…

That's been the real fun here. Not the grueling stuff that I can be proud I accomplished one day, but the instantly rewarding side of this zany thing. The getting outside my comfort zone half of it. I've struggled with that in recent years. But on this trip, there is no comfort zone. Not even an option. So…

I don't know how much farther I'll make it. The GAP trail was 150 miles. The C&O canal towpath, which starts where the GAP ends, is 180. I've done this part once before, and as I recall it's a very different ride. Where the GAP is well funded and maintained leveled gravel, the C&O is largely dirt with rocks and roots. Where the GAP has bike repair and modern water bottle fill up stations every so often, the C&O is a bunch of strung out iodine treated manual pump wells. Where the GAP is climbing a mountain, the C&O is flat or slightly downhill most of the way. Where the GAP is repeatedly 10-20 miles of trail that leads right through the middle of a small town to visit, the C&O is frequent remote campsites but fewer towns that are all farther from the path itself.

To sum all that up, the experience of the GAP is a more polished touristy experience. You have to plan which town you're going to stay in that night lest you get stranded 8 miles from any as the sun sets, but there are lots of B&Bs right on the path. It’s not very bumpy so your butt will thank you but climbing a mountain will test your legs. The C&O is more an outdoorsy, remote adventure. You won't find yourself in towns but there are rustic campsites to stop at whenever you're ready to stop. Forward progress is easy on flat ground but good luck being able to sit right after 180 miles of rocky trail. Why was I describing this again what was the point of OH RIGHT.

What I'm saying is tomorrow starts a very different challenge. Easier on my weary legs. Tougher on my already aching butt. It'll be remote camping, treating gross tasting iodine water to make sure I don't get sick from my water bottles, and being much more strict about battery use on devices. But a new set of rules means I've already beaten the last game. The one with the old rules I had been playing for a few days and 150 miles. Check and mate.

There will be a longer journal type entry to detail this whole silly escapade. I've been diligently keeping a GoPro on my handlebars running in time warp mode that may end up being a pretty cool time lapse of the trails in their (near) entirety. Then again, I may give up halfway through tomorrow if the saddle sores go from painful to unbearable.

But I also might just pace myself and go for it. See how far I can still push. There's even a perfect ending scenerio where I pull into DC mid-week, pedal over to Union Station, hop a MARC train, and then roll my tired, dirty self the last mile from the station home. Literally ending my adventure by pedaling the bike up to my front steps. That's a cool thought. Wrap the whole thing in a neat little bow.

Regardless of whether I fairy tale ending or crap out tomorrow, tonight I have succeeded. I'm gonna lay in my crappy hotel bed and eat this dominos pizza I got delivered and watch the shitty little Panasonic 2004 flat screen tv and be happy. With where I am, what I've accomplished, and what ridiculous unforseen challenges and experiences this next leg will present.

And I haven't worried about work this whole week. Vacation success.

Onwards. Stay tuned for the (maybe) exciting conclusion…

-M