I used the morning in Rockwood to get a proper breakfast and headed out to the trail late. My plan was to take it easy on the remaining ride to the top of Big Savage Mountain and the Eastern Continental Divide, and then simply coast down the 2 per cent grade to Cumberland, MD. The downhill is often called the “Frostburg glide” after the only town between Meyersdale and Cumberland on the 28 mile slope. JAGraham took some of the gear from my trailer, and would ride down to Cumberland with me, racing me in her TerraTrike.
Before I left Rockwood, there was one man I wanted to see. I pulled into the trailside visitor’s center and greeted Maynard Sembower. I’d met him in August last year when he was a callow youth of 99, and I wanted to see him now that he’d reached his century year. I hope I’ll look half as spry as he does should God allow me to reach his age. The town of Rockwood honored their oldest citizen by naming the town visitor center in his honor, and incorporating him into this mural that greets visitors crossing the bridge into town. That’s Maynard looking at his watch:
Maynard accepted my wishes with a good grace but also, I thought, with bemused resignation. I recalled what my late friend and co-author Martin Simsak had told me about turning 90. “Everyone thinks it’s a big deal,” Martin told me a few months before his death at 92, “but it’s just another day.” I hoped someone in Rockwood takes one of those ‘days’ and works with Mr. Sembower to record some of his stories. After all, he remembered when the Western Maryland Rail Road came into Rockwood, laying track on the same ground I, and thousands of others, ride their bikes on. Time ran out, and Maynard died three months after I met him on this June morning.
I headed towards Cumberland. I was feeling very chaffed from the Brooks saddle, and I had lingering stiffness in my right knee, so I took frequent stops. I met two middle-aged women riding north to Confluence as part of a credit-card tour, and rode several miles with a middle-aged guy on a mountain bike who had never been on this part of the trail. Even though this is perhaps the most scenic stretch of the GAP, I kept the camera in the case. I was both too distracted by my chafing and anxious to make time to Cumberland.
And I was rankled by the attitudes of some of the riders in the group. The previous night, someone had gasped when he saw how badly my right leg was knocked. Another rider told me, with some passion, how I needed to take better care of myself and and my condition and switch to an electric bicycle. I should have been hardened to garbage thinking like this, but still, it bothered me.
I stopped outside the 1900 foot long Salisbury Viaduct and visited the small graveyard before the crossing, and then headed over the Cassleman River. The sky looked threatening. I put the cover on my Brooks saddle in case of rain. While it didn’t rain, my saddle felt much better under me with the cover on.
I rode past Meyersdale, Bollman Bridge, Keystone Viaduct, and across the tableland on top of the mountain to the Eastern Continental Divide. I looked for Nola the trail cat, the pussy who greeted me back in August as I rode through Deal, but she must have found a mouse or something, for she didn’t appear. The Divide sported new murals and signage since my last visit. I was passed by a young couple on mountain bikes, touring with everything in enormous backpacks. Since they were stopping in Cumberland, I offered to take their gear down the mountain in my trailer, but they declined.
Once I crossed over the descent began. The trail drops 1800 feet in 24 miles. First up was Big Savage Tunnel. The 1900 foot long hole is lighted, but I still stopped to turn on headlights and blinkers. I should have pulled out a jacket as well, since the tunnel is about 15 degrees colder than the outside air.
On the other side, at the wonderful scenic overlook of Maryland….
…I met JAGraham, who was touring as I should tour, with plentiful breaks for photographs. We headed down the mountain, stopping at the Mason-Dixon line for photos…
…and continued to Frostburg. JAGraham and I share an interest in history, and I tried to ask intelligent questions about the Passage and C & O, tapping her immense personal experience with these trails.
We also talked about more personal issues. As I remounted after a stop Judy asked me, “why do you think you don’t mount the bike correctly?”
“’cause I don’t. It’s wrong.”
“Why is it wrong?”
“It’s awkward, it’s inefficient, and it’s not recommended by bike fitting expert Sheldon Brown.”
“Sheldon knew a lot about bikes, but he didn’t know everything. You’re out here riding, aren’t you?”
“I don’t get up enough speed as I kick off.”
“It’s not a race. You get enough to get moving. That’s all you need.”
“Point made. Should I serve cheese with my whine?”
At the base of Frostburg’s switchback we observed a group of our fellow tourers. I met Chuck and apologized for my dragging him along yesterday on the fruitless search for the covered bridge and then my bullheaded insistence on going off alone to find it. My rash actions were forgiven. We then continued down the mountain, passed through the two remaining tunnels, and entered Cumberland.
After leading some of the new riders to Canal Place, I headed to Cumberland Trail Connection, the bike shop that had treated my injuries back in June 2008. Both Kurt and Hutch were in, and surprised to see me again. Judy called to make arrangements to get taken back up to her car on the mountain, and I got directions to our campsite at the Cumberland YMCA, a mile from the trail. When I arrived there I found Bike Forum members had already taken over the pavilion in the camping area.
I set up my tent, ate, showered at the YMCA building across the street, and retired to my tent at 9:45. By 10 I heard the patter of raindrops on the tent, and went to sleep wondering what the trail conditions would be like tomorrow morning.
Category: Camping
Alone in a Crowd: Montour/GAP/C & O Tour, June 2009 – Part 4
Monday morning the Bike Forums group awoke early and began to break camp in the early mist.
After three miles of trail I entered Connellsville, passing underneath the new arch they installed over the trail last fall. I looked ahead at the mountain I’d be climbing today.
At one point or another in town I passed most of the group either on their way to or from breakfast. I picked up food in town and headed for the bridge into Ohiopyle State Park. This is the first of the several old trestles rebuilt for trail use. I ate breakfast and photographed Spinnaker riding across the trestle.
Spinnaker and ALHanson suggested I ride with them, but I said no, partly because I didn’t want to slow down faster riders, and partly because I enjoyed the solitude of the ride. I faced 17 miles of near uninterrupted forest till Ohiopyle, and I wanted to be alone with my thoughts.
My thoughts, however, were increasingly “what happened to me since August 2008?” I wasn’t riding as strongly as I had the last two times I’d climbed in the park. Unlike my two 2008 trips, this time the climb was a struggle instead of a grind. Still I soldiered on.
Chuck, my companion of the day before, must have slept in that morning, as he caught up to me near what is perhaps my favorite scene on the Great Allegheny Passage, the view from the Gas Line Overlook. As you climb the tree cover breaks and below you see the rock-studded Yough. The trail turns to the left as it goes by an old railroad retaining wall. Chuck took the opportunity to go foraging for wild edibles as I sat on the bench and took in the scene.
We eventually reached Ohiopyle, the small town surrounded by the park. On discovering that Sisters’ in Confluence, our lunch stop, was closing at 2:00 PM, Chuck and I pushed it over the remaining 11 miles. We were seated at 1:40; I’d maintained about a 10-11 MPH clip with a loaded trailer on an upgrade.
Bikes in the rack outside Sisters’ in downtown Confluence. Note the trailer on the left; I’d probably sleep poorly if I had to share a campsite with that rider.
While in Confluence, I remembered there was a covered bridge a couple of miles out of town. I decided to see it, and Chuck went with me out of a mixed sense of adventure and concern for my safety. After a three mile trip I discovered I’d gone in the wrong direction. Chuck urged scratching the trip, but I told him I’d go on alone. I rode with him back to the GAP trailhead, and headed out.
I didn’t get very far, however. I soon decided Humboldt bridge could wait for another day, and headed back to the trail. I regretted my action. It was rude of me to dismiss Chuck, and by taking a side trip in an area without cell phone service it meant the group had no way to contact me. I thought about this often during the 20 mile climb from Confluence to Rockwood.
I’d been struggling with the dynamic of the group since the first day, when I neglected hydration in order to keep up with stronger riders. While I found all the folks on the ride congenial, it didn’t mean that we could, or should, ride together. I resolved to pay more attention to my part in the fabric of the group, but at the same time not stress myself more than I should in a desire to fit in with stronger riders. So no side trips, but at the same time if I needed to stop or needed more time, I’d take it. As Chuck and I had discussed that morning, I’d done this trip twice before. I had nothing to prove to anyone, least of all myself.
As I thought this I noticed a stiffness in my right knee. My hammering with Chuck on the trail to Confluence was having an effect. I traveled in my lowest gear as slowly as I could, took frequent breaks, and when I met JAGraham at Markleton trailhead, accepted her offer to SAG me and my gear the remaining six miles to Rockwood. On getting to Rockwood and learning there was a new hostel in town, I took a bed there instead of camping. I iced, took Ibuprofen, and went to bed.
Alone in a Crowd: Montour/GAP/C & O Tour, June 2009 – Part 3
Sunday morning I got off to a very late start. I had an unexpected reaction to the niacin I take for my low HDL count. For about an hour and a half I didn’t feel well enough to ride. So while most of the other folks pulled out about 8:00 AM or so, I didn’t get underway until 10:00. I was joined by JAGraham, a Bike Forums poster who was riding parts of the trail with us. We rode to Dravo Cemetery, the free campsite six miles south of Boston. I had considered going there the night before instead of staying at the Yough Shore Inn, since I’d done that back in August 2008. My bonking and muscle cramps deterred me from attempting the additional miles, and my decision was a prudent one all things considered.
I knew from a discussion with the organizer that we were to meet another member of our group that morning at Dravo, but I figured he’d have been picked up when the main group went through a couple of hours before. Imagine our surprise to find Chuck sitting on a bench waiting for the group. I was startled that the group would blow past someone they knew was meeting them.
As I said goodbye to JAGraham, who was riding back to her car at Boston, I turned to Chuck and suggested he might be able to catch the main group if he dropped the hammer. He said he wanted to ride with me instead. I warned him I’m only marginally faster than a glacier, but he said he remembered my riding and could keep ‘down’ with me.
I’d met Chuck on my previous trip – he and Spinnaker had ridden with me for about 30 miles on the Montour Trail in August. Chuck is behind Spinnaker in this photo, riding his self-built bike – that’s the Nashbar touring frame, incidentally.
We headed out to the trail from Dravo, after I visited the adjoining cemetery for photos.
We stopped in West Newton, a town about 15 miles from Boston, for lunch. While there we saw a sign advertising the Movable Wall, a touring half-size replica of the Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial in Washington, DC. After getting directions from a resident and discovering the display was only a mile away, we set off for it. After some fearsome hills and lots of motorcycle traffic we came to the park with the Wall:
Once back on the trail I had as good a time riding with others as I’d ever had. Chuck and I had many of the same interests, read the same books, and possessed the same ‘gift of gab.’ We stopped at every historical marker, even ones I’d read on my two previous trips. At one of them Chuck and I discussed wild edible plants, and he went foraging on the banks of the Yough. He came back empty handed, however.
At Cedar Creek Park, south of Boston, JAGraham took my trailer from me. While I could have pulled it, I was still very worn out from the previous day and the problem with medication that morning. The ‘side effect’ this caused made me better able to keep up with Chuck.
We arrived at our campsite, River’s Edge in Adelaide, about 5:00 PM, three hours after the others. I set up my camp, went swimming in the pool, and received a campsite cooking lesson from JAGraham. In the second photo, that’s my MSR Pocket Rocket and pot on the left. The pizza and beer were another camper’s.
I crawled into my tent about 9:00 PM, as the bugs began to bite.
Alone in a Crowd: Montour/GAP/C & O Tour, June 2009 – Part 2
At 9:00 AM the trip to DC began. Riders gathered at the starting point. In this photo, second from the right is Spinnaker, the ride organizer.
We headed down a steep hill about a mile to the trailhead, and we were chugging along the Montour Trail. I wasn’t maintaining as fast a pace as last August, and I chided myself for not spending more time preparing. In particular I needed to do some riding with a full touring load. Well, I’ll have to ride myself into shape, I thought.
We paused for photos at Imperial and to regroup. Spinnaker’s plan was to keep everyone together for the first day to make sure all riders successfully navigated the detours on the trail. The riders with their backs to the camera are Bike Forums posters “Robow” and “Joel2old.”
“VT_Speed_TR” and his rig.
The policy of regrouping every few miles continued, with mixed results. I felt too much time was being spent on rest stops. While I frequently need to dismount, I keep the time spent to the minimum. At one point I apparently misinterpreted a cue from another rider and took off before the rest of the group. This did give me the advantage of being able to spend time at McDonald Trestle, one of the most scenic spots on the trail. And I could photograph riders crossing it. In the photo below, ALHanson is in the lead, followed by Joel2Old.
Bike Forums poster JAGraham was running SAG on a limited basis for us, and she provided drinks and snacks about 25 miles out. At 32 miles Bike Forums poster and Montour Trail advocate “DonMccarty” provided hot dogs, soda, and water. In the photo here, Robow takes a red-hot from DonMccarty.
By now I was starting to have physical problems. Standing around for what seemed to be forever was causing my muscles to start stiffening up. I had my first attack of cramps a couple of miles from the ‘hot dog stand.’ I stretched the legs and moved on.
The detours around the unfinished sections of the Montour are difficult. In August last year DonMccarty transported me around them. This year I had to ride them, and walk portions of them.
As we reached the on-road portion of the trail along Piney Creek the trail leveled out, and I plugged along in the afternoon heat. From trying to keep up with the group I was neglecting hydration – I didn’t want to stop to drink. Even the sole remaining extended stop I had – providing a spare tube to a novice riding with us – I didn’t take the opportunity to drink.
Eventually we reached the trail end and picked up the on-road Steel Valley Trail in Clairton. VT_Speed_TR and Joel2Old contemplate the plant across the road.
My second, and more or less continuous, attack of cramps took place about six miles from Boston, our night stop. First it was the inner thighs. Then after that subsided it was the quads. Then my left hamstring. I drained what was left of my water and swallowed a potassium tablet from another rider, and plugged on. The cramping was completely avoidable – at the risk of delaying the group I should have peeled off to any of the stores in Clairton or Glassport and purchased Gatorade, or indeed any drink. Unfortunately I was suffering from the belief I needed to match other riders, and I turned what could have been a pleasant echo of my August 2008 tour on the same trails into a death march.
I arrived at the Yough Shore Inn about 20 minutes after the last rider. I drank, showered, drank again, arranged to rent a room instead of camping as planned, drank some more, and joined the group for a nice dinner at a place across the river. I fell asleep about midnight.
Alone in a Crowd: Montour/GAP/C & O 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 confident I could ride them again, and looked forward to riding in a group on tour for the first time.
I also felt confident in my level of training for the ride. I’d done rides of varying length and difficulty in the weeks leading up to the tour, including a 52 mile trip into Philadelphia and back. While none of these rides were pulling a full trailer, or indeed much of a load at all, I felt I was at least as well prepared as I had been in August 2008 when I’d ridden the trails ten weeks after crashing and fracturing a rib.
Finally the day came. Or more properly, the days before came. One of the group riders, “VT_Speed_TR”, arrived at my home on the evening of the 11th. He spent the night and we departed early the next morning for DC, where we were to meet “ALHanson” and drive to Pittsburgh in a rental vehicle.
The trip to DC was uneventful, aside from my being talkative from lack of sleep. (I work second shift, and it takes a day or two for me to adjust to a ‘normal’ daytime life.) We arrived in Georgetown to drop off VT’s car, and awaited the arrival of AL.
We had our first surprise of the tour. Car rental companies weren’t keen on a one-way rental to the land of the Three Rivers, so the full-sized SUV turned out to be smaller than anyone expected. It was a tight fit to get all of us and our gear in, but we made it work:
Once we were moving, the hours sped by. AL and VT were good talkers when I let them speak. We reached Pittsburgh about 5:00 PM, unpacked, arranged for the return of the rental car, and soon were setting down to dinner with our host and ride organizer “Spinnaker” and other tour riders. From left to right, Bike Forums posters “Robow”, VT_Speed_TR”, “Twodeadpoets”, “Spinnaker” (obscured by Wes, riding with us the first day) and “ALHanson.”
After dinner it was back to Spinnaker’s to see the final game of the Stanley Cup contest between Detroit and Pittsburgh, and then bed on the floor in the living room. b
Delmarva Tour, June 2009 – Final Thoughts
Final thoughts…..
I arrived home at 5:00 in the evening on Sunday. Monday I went back to work. This plan was a mistake; I should have taken a day to decompress, so to speak, before returning to the real world.
And there was so much ‘real world’ to catch up on. 300 emails, piles of mail and magazines, projects at work and home….. I needed to reorient myself to even ‘normal’ activities. Driving felt odd for about a minute when I got behind the wheel for the first time in more than two weeks, for instance. And it felt really strange to wear pants – I missed living in shorts while on tour.
As for the tour itself, there are several things I’ll do differently next time:
– bring less and lighter gear. It’s time I start considering lighter stuff. While my tent and sleeping bag aren’t that heavy, I could invest in lighter items that pack smaller.
– bring a lighter rider. My weight was a drag in every sense of the word. Had I been closer to my low of 242 from July 2007 I’d have had a more comfortable ride and have been faster.
– spend more time training. I didn’t do any overnight tours before I left for “the big one.” I had saddle problems that could have been avoided or lessened had I known of them before I set out.
– spend more time on the road. With the sun setting as late as it did, I had plenty of time to get to a campsite or hotel. No need to hurry, too much to see.
– plan more carefully. The final day in particular was plotted too carelessly. What did I think by going through Wilmington? Heading straight north would have been hillier perhaps, but shorter and more scenic. And my miscalculation of the mileage for the final day was a mistake five minutes thought should have revealed.
– cook at the campsite more often. I only cooked twice on tour. Had I done more of it I’d have spent less on food. After all, why am I lugging around the stove and pot if I’m not cooking?
That said, even flawed as my planning and execution were, I had a great time, and I look forward to my next ride or tour in Delmarva.
Delmarva Tour, June 2009 – Part 10
Sunday morning I lingered a little when packing my campsite. This was the last time I’d pack up this trip. As I rolled out of the campsite I headed to the pond the park is named for. I’d seen Nature up close for much of this trip, and I was entering the most densely populated part of Delaware. Standing on the boat landing at Lums Pond was a “goodbye”, or more accurately “till we meet again.” The waves lapped at the edges of my cycling shoes.
Then off to breakfast in the last small town I’d see this trip. I had French toast at Kildare’s general store/post office as folks on the their way to and from church stopped in. I didn’t know which of us was more uncomfortable in the early morning heat, me in my Lycra or the churchgoers in their suits and dresses.
Traffic was light as I turned right onto a road that took me to Rt. 9. I rode across highway ramps without stopping and without fear. Once I reached Rt. 9 I was near Delaware City, which it seems is nothing but a collection of refineries. I rode through one, thinking this was a scene only Ayn Rand could love.
As I climbed a hill four miles out of New Castle, I felt the rear of the bike become unstable. I had my first flat on the rear. A couple of roadies out for a spin warned me about the large amount of glass on the shoulder from here into town. I finished changing the tube and kept an eagle-eye out for glass the rest of the trip.
On reaching New Castle, I headed for Battery Park, where I ate, drank, and rested until the greenflies discovered my presence. From there I headed back to Rt. 9, passing through The Strand, the historic district. It was in this area that William Penn landed in 1682 when he came to inspect his colonial holdings. (Delaware was part of Penn’s land grant from the King; while he chose to found his “green country town” Philadelphia up the river, its at New Castle he first set foot in the New World.)
Then it was off to Wilmington, Delaware’s biggest city, a scant five miles up the road. After riding through some busy traffic I reached the town at 1:00 PM. Here’s my bike in the downtown historic district, surrounded by banks and financial services companies. Delaware’s favorable banking laws and location close to DC and New York make Wilmington a favorite place to incorporate or have an office. In fact, there are so many banks in Wilmington the city should be renamed WilmingTARP. Note the church overshadowed by the HSBC building in the second photo below.
By two I had reached the outskirts of Wilmington. I was to meet my friend Dennis at 3:00 at the PA border, another ten miles or so. I plodded on through increasingly hilly terrain. As I neared the border, Dennis arrived early, and not finding me began to travel south to meet me. I decided the three or so miles additional were meaningless, and not wanting Dennis to have to search for me, I stopped at the entrance to Winterthur, the former Du Pont mansion, now a museum and garden. In a few minutes Dennis arrived and my tour came to an end.
Delmarva Tour, June 2009 – Part 9
I took the luxury of a motel room, even a 40 dollar a night motel room, as an excuse to sleep later than normal. I was on the road by 8:30, and stopped at a truck stop in Felton for breakfast. I soon discovered my fast wasn’t the only thing broken, for two miles down the road I pulled into a gas station to fix a broken spoke. The spoke wasn’t on the drive side, so I thought it would be easy to fix it with my fiberspoke and limp into Dover, 8 or so miles on, for a professional repair.
However, my inexperience showed itself again. I made a mess of retruing the wheel. After two attempts and two failures, I decided I’d have better luck thumbing a ride to Dover. A few minutes on Rt. 13 brought me a lift to Delaware’s capitol. Tony’s Bike Shop on Rt. 13 managed to replace the spoke and true the wheel once I made them understand I was on a bike tour and couldn’t wait three days, and by noon I was rolling again.
While crossing the city I took a whim and headed into the historic district. I was rewarded with touring serendipity when I discovered an African-American festival in full roar on Legislative Square.
I rode round the square a few times, and walked around listening to the band and enjoying the sight of the city center alive with people. I pulled up to a stand advertising “Best Soul Food in the World” and ordered some sweet potatoes.
“Where are you coming from?” the fellow behind the counter asked as he handed me my food.
“I started in Pittsburgh on the 13th. I should be home near Philadelphia on Sunday.” It was a familiar question, one I’d answered many times over the past two weeks. But I’d never received the reaction I did here, which was stunned silence and blank looks. In the awkward silence I thanked him for my food and turned to leave. As I left I heard one of the servers say to another “That guy, he’s da man.” The trip to Dover was worth it for just that remark.
I pedaled across Dover to pick up the Delaware Bike Route 1 – and the only one – north. The trip was pretty, but the road was poorly signed. I got off course just after taking this photo at one of Delaware’s many millponds:
My misdirection led me back to Rt. 13. Not wanting to waste more time crossing back to the bike route when Rt. 13 led me to the same place, I turned north on it into Smyrna, turning off on Rt. 71 into Middletown. Pity this place was closed when I reached it.
I was keeping an eye on the skies. Would The Historian escape a soaking? The clouds gathered overhead.
I stopped at the Middletown Academy to rest for a few minutes. My trip north had become gradually more and more rolling, and I found the climbing tiring. Also the continuous traffic wore me down. There’s something to be said for trails after all.
But I then pushed on, and soon enough reached the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal, a shipping ditch across the Delmarva region linking the Bay and the Delaware River. Here I was almost stopped.
Ride on the shoulder or walk through the construction area? I turned and saw a fire engine take up half the shoulder climbing the bridge, and began to walk the mile or so of milled pavement. With the thought I might spend the night in a Delaware jail for trespassing, I stopped and took a photo at the top of the bridge:
Once on the other side, I remounted and pushed my tired legs to my night stop, Lums Pond State Park. I set up, showered, and settled in for the night as I listened to the neighboring “campers” argue in their home on wheels. The one drawback to the campsite was the enormous number of kids around. I overheard one of the fathers warn his son about “telling if anything funny happens” when he was in the restroom. The concerned dad was looking at me in my Lycra as he said this, and all I could think of was “If he only knew the truth.” I have a horror of paedophilia because I can’t understand why anyone WANTS to spend time with children. Where is Herod when I need him, I thought, as I went to sleep.
Delmarva Tour, June 2009 – Part 8
June 26 – A day with little to say
“Every day is a winding road” as Ms. Crowe put it, but that winding road sometimes isn’t an exciting one. Such was today. I left Cape Henlopen headed Northwest about 40 or so miles to camp. I failed to secure a reservation and Killan’s Pond State Park had no available camping spaces. So instead I secured a cheap motel in nearby Felton.
The weather was unremarkable – 90 degrees with a slight headwind. I had no anatomical or mechanical problems – knees and butt were fine, and the bike and tires functioned as they should. I passed through two “Mill” towns, Milton and Millford, without any trouble and in good time. I lingered in the historic district in downtown Milton.
I did get lost a couple of times, and in one instance a wrong turn led me a couple of miles through Redden State Forest. This wouldn’t have been so bad except that the greenflies thought dinner was served every time I stopped, and they didn’t find clothing much of a challenge to bite through. But other than that, the day was pretty ordinary. Which was fine with me, for I’d had some adventure already, and I no doubt would have more in the next few days.
I arrived at my motel by 6:00 PM, and spent the night in my room catching up on laundry, charging my cell phone, and reestablishing contact with the ‘real’ world. Considering most of the alleged ‘real’ world was rehashing the death of Michael Jackson, the King of Pop and Perversion, I considered myself lucky I had two more days of unreality. I fell asleep early to the sound of the air conditioner.
Delmarva Tour, June 2009 – Part 7
I arose early and was on the road by 8:30. My host had prepared a detailed route to Lewes, then looping north to Killan’s Pond State Park, but I changed plans once again and decided to camp at Cape Henlopen just outside of Delaware’s oldest town. I rode through more of Delaware’s agricultural area on a morning that was humid well before noon. At one point I thought I got lost, and a couple of roadies out for a ride pulled over to help me out with directions. As we sweated and said goodbyes, they saw a combine come down the road followed by a line of cars. “Hey, let’s draft the combine” one said to another, and they jumped on, clicked in, and pulled in behind the combine and ahead of the first car. “Delaware cyclists are tough” I thought as I headed towards Lewes.
Once I crossed to town, I turned right on the road leading to the ferry terminal. I passed on it and its promised trip to Cape May, New Jersey and headed to Cape Henlopen State Park. They managed to find a tent site for me, I gritted my teeth and paid the 32 bucks they required for an out of state resident, and I had a place to stay. I rode around the park on the extensive bike trail, visited the WWII era Fort Miles, and had lunch.
The park’s Scenic Overlook stands above the Great Dune, the largest such formation between New England and North Carolina. Another tourist took my photo with the Dune a striking backdrop.
I decided to finally put my swimsuit to use this trip and parked at the Point Comfort Station, changed, and went into the surf. While going into the water was a treat, I should have chosen a different beach. The surf is very strong on the ocean side of the Cape, and the undertow was fierce. I was sucked under the water several times, the first time with a current so strong it pulled my swimsuit to my ankles. Swimming was out of the question, and my bodysurfing had mixed results. And getting pounded by the surf isn’t the kindest treatment a curved spine and rickety joints can receive. I left after about a half hour and a half glass of seawater.
Sitting on the ferry terminal with the retirees watching the boat come in was considerably more relaxing. I was tempted to take the ferry to Cape May and back, but I couldn’t afford the three hours time. Another day, definitely.
Once I was rolling to the town of Lewes proper, I noticed my front tire felt spongy again. I determined to find the town’s bike shop while I was out. Before then, I stopped at the Zwaanendael Museum, devoted to the history of Lewes from the initial Dutch settlement of 1631 to the present. As the elderly docent at the museum explained to me, in 1931 the city decided to pay tribute to Delaware’s Dutch heritage, and so they constructed a replica of a town hall in The Netherlands. “We had many men out of work at that time,” she told me, “and it seemed a good way to get folks doing something and honor Delaware’s history as well. It was my generation’s version of a stimulus package.”
After more exploring, I came to the bike shop, Ocean Cycles. It was a little place that catered to day visitors wanting to rent beach cruisers. I parked my bike and trailer amid the cruisers and walked in.
“Hi, I’m having a problem with my front tire. I wonder if you can take a look at it?”
A short chubby guy looked up from filling out a rental form. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ve had two tubes go soft in two days. I’m wondering if there’s a problem with the tire.”
“You want us to replace it?”
“No, it’s a brand new tire. I just want a professional to look at it.”
The man called out to his mechanic in the back and returned to his forms. I brought the wheel back and explained what was going on. He checked it, found nothing wrong with the tube or tire, and suggested we replace the tube anyway. I agreed, and the old tube went in the trash.
While this was going on we talked about touring.
“I did a tour recently, going from North Philly to Key West. I rode my Huffy with all my gear in a backpack and slept behind 7-11s.”
“Weren’t you afraid of being arrested?”
“Nah, but the cops made me move a few times. I didn’t make it to Key West though.”
I then watched, stunned, as the mechanic tried to put a Schraeder tube into my wheel. The man behind the counter had come back stopped him. “No, it’s one of those with the long stem.”
“Oh, one of those.”
The mechanic then put the new tube in, placed the tire on the wheel, and carefully installed the wheel back on the fork. Once it was on, he tried to inflate the tire, but couldn’t get the pump attached to the valve stem properly. So the man behind the counter used a monkey wrench to yank the stem out further so he could get a tight fit. The tire was fully inflated, but no sooner did I get to the counter to pay for the ‘service’ than we heard the expected gunshot report. I wound up replacing the tube myself in a few minutes and getting the tire inflated with my Road Morph. The cost had only been 25 bucks for the ‘service’ provided by the shop, the cost of a new tube, and about 50 minutes of my day.
I’m still asking myself if this was a case of an incompetent, badly run shop or a good one getting even with a difficult customer. I don’t think I was at all rude, demanding, or difficult. Even if they were upset I didn’t buy a new tire from them, there’s no need to treat a cyclist like that. As for the mechanic who never got to Key West, somehow I suspect he never got further south than Lewes, Delaware.
After dinner and ice cream helped take the sting out of the bad experience at the bike shop, I headed back to camp to set up my tent and unhook the trailer. I was the only cycletourist there.
Once the trailer was unhooked I rode through the park again, soaking in everything. One of the WWII observation towers was open to visitors, and so I climbed up the circular stairwell 89 feet and took photos from the top. Fort Miles lay below.
And somewhere on the other side of the Atlantic was Europe:
The sun was setting fast, so I climbed down the tower steps, headed back to camp, and settled in for the night.