Michaux State Forest, Pennsylvania 

15-17 April, 2023

36.04 miles (RT)

New Dimension

Nothing puts my mind at ease like riding my bike.  Especially when riding along a trail, you look up and see a long corridor ahead of you, brimming with the full fall foliage glimmering in the late afternoon sunshine. Gear strapped to your bike. Cruising along. Sun in your face. Empty minded. Simply enjoying the moment.

That said, one man’s long corridor can be another man’s monotony.  

For as much as rail trails are scenic and awesome, they can get boring.  Especially for anyone who likes the challenge of a good climb. And so it was for these reasons a plan was devised to drive the gravel bikes out to Michaux State Forest, a popular destination for gravel bike enthusiasts, just outside of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.   

State Parks

Known for its gravel mountain roads and trail network, Michaux State forest is bookended by two different Pennsylvania State Parks: Caledonia State Park to the South, and Pine Grove Furnace State Park to the north (also known as the ‘unofficial’ halfway point along the Appalachian Trail, where thru hikers scarf down a half gallon of ice cream as part of the local ‘Half Gallon Challenge’).

The plan was to base our trip at the more southern Caledonia State Park, then ride 32 miles north to a series of primitive campsites just outside of Pine Grove Furnace State Park. There, we would overnight with the bikes.  Then, on Sunday, ride another 20 miles south back to the cars at Caledonia State Park. 

Car Camping vs. Bikepacking

One of the advantages of car camping is that you can bring everything. Cooler. Yep. Four person tent. No problem. Folding cots. Propane stove. Table. Chairs. Lights. You can bring it all.  And then there’s the bike gear too, like a floor pump, tools, a repair stand when needed. Also, bikes. 

In short, car camping is like a mobile man cave, but with a makeshift, middle-aged hobo vibe. 

Bikepacking, on the other hand, you bring only what you can strap onto your bike to make camp with at the end of your ride.  On a rail trail, with their 2% railroad grade elevation profiles, you can roll a little farther with more weight.  However, when calculating what you can take when climbing thousands of feet and dealing at times with 5 to 6 miles of 8 to 9% gradation, you leave the candy bar, extra socks, and the mattress pump behind in the car.  

Trying to go as light as I could, I narrowed my bikepacking kit down to a tent, a down quilt, inflatable mattress, one rain jacket, one midweight insulated jacket, a lightweight pair of hiking pants, down camp booties, a shirt, shorts, socks, and a hat.  I also packed a water filter, my pocket rocket stove, one small isopropane canister, two packs of ramen, two oatmeal packets, and two instant coffee packets.    

Rolling on an Angry Planet

Allergies suck. So far, this year has not only seen the earliest start for pollen season, but the pollen counts are the highest levels ever recorded.  The only respite for those with seasonal allergies is when it rains, as the rain sometimes knocks down some of the pollen whirling around in the air.  

Only in Pennsylvania, we haven’t had much rain.  At least not until that Saturday, the first day of our ride, when a thunderstorm decided to settle over Michaux State Forest until 1:30PM (We would later find out that a tornado touched down that morning in the northern end of Michaux State Forest).  Because of the lightning more than rain or wind, our planned 36 mile ride with over 4,000 feet of climbing turned into about 16 miles and about 2,000 feet, as we stood around, farting under a tarp while we waited for that bastard of a storm to pass.

Once the rain stopped, we made the best of the daylight we had left and basically climbed up to the ridge, which we rode along for most of the rest of the day.  After about 12 or 13 miles up on the ridge, we came down and began to look for the primitive campsites outside of Pine Grove Furnace State Park, our destination for the evening.

The campsite we found was off a seasonal road, tucked back about 100 yards or so.  Just above a stream and even equipped with a picnic table, the campsite had everything we needed to overnight in fashion.  Only there was a concerning amount of deadfall in the trees above, which we did our best to stay away from.   

More to Do

We spent the evening eating ramen noodles by the light of our headlamps. Pointing. Laughing. Weaving profanities. Discussing all things familiar.  Doing all the things we normally do on such trips; happy to be doing them.  

In the morning, we awoke to voices outside of our camp.  Loud, boisterous voices, seemingly unaware of our campsite.  They were mountain bikers passing by, all on full suspension bikes, riding up the trail that lead past our campsite to the stream below.  It wasn’t just that first group either.  There were two or three groups that passed in the time before we broke camp.  With an affinity for being loud, boisterous, and unaware ourselves, I realized we would have to return one day equipped with our own full suspension rigs. 

Piney Mountain Ridge Road

Most of the ride back to Caledonia State Park on Sunday was spent riding across Piney Mountain Ridge Road.  The route is a fairly straight shot from one state park back to the other.  However, the ride itself incorporated everything from challenging, somewhat technical climbs (for a loaded gravel bike, anyway), to cruisey downhill sections of groomed, seasonal fireroad.  None of it was paved.  It was a dynamic variety of gravel surfaces, rotating, winding, and rolling along the ridge line opposite the ridge we rode the day before.  

So with our gear strapped to our bikes, the sun in our faces, we made our way back to the cars at Caledondia State Park.  But it should be noted here how much fun the last section of Piney Mountain Ridge Road was; a thirty minute downhill that put far from our minds all of the technical climbing that preceded it.

Left smiling and empty minded at the bottom Piney Mountain Ridge Road, it suffices to say our ride through Michaux State Forest was about as far from monotonous and boring as you could get.

  -rm (solid pics, jay. ty)

The Pine Creek Rail Trail, Pennsylvania

14-16 October, 2022

94.3 miles (RT)

Four Years Later

This is not going to be a lengthy or detailed account of our now annual bike trip to the Pine Creek Rail Trail. Nope. I’ve written about that before.  However, I will say that this year’s ride was probably the best weather we have had in the four years of bikepacking along this Pennsylvania trail in October.  

More than a detailed account of our ride, I wanted to take a minute to comment on the Pine Creek Rail Trail in general.  

It occurred to me this year that there are only a few trails I could ride repeatedly for the scenery (The Perkiomen Trail, Great Allegheny Passage, Gordons Pond), and out of those, if I had to pick my favorite, it would be Pine Creek.  

In addition to the scenery, with its steep, colorful bluffs climbing out of the gorge, Pine Creek has some of the better campsites to accommodate bikepackers.  And out of those, my favorite is undoubtedly the Tiadaghton Campground in Tioga State Forest.  Not only is it my favorite campsite along that trail, but of all the campsites I’ve been to, I cannot think of a better sleep than a crisp fall night camped deep within the heart of the Pine Creek gorge at Tiadaghton. Maybe on the Appelachian Trail at Rausch Gap. It’s top two.

In short, this is a great trip.  With Hotel Manor located at about the halfway point along the trail in Slate Run, there are options if you prefer not to sleep in a tent, or if you need a place to grab lunch or dinner. That said, anyone with even a moderate interest in bikepacking or bike touring should plan a trip to the Pine Creek Rail Trail if they like to ride and want to see The Keystone State in all its glory.  -rm

The Greenbrier River Trail, West Virginia

6-10 August, 2022

156 miles (RT)

Country Road

Like most of our bikepacking trips, this venture down to the 78 mile Greenbrier River Trail in West Virginia began as a few text messages and a squiggly green line on Google Maps.  However, unlike the trips we have done before, there was no train that even came close to this place. No interstate route.  To get from Philadelphia to Cass, West Virginia, where the northern terminus for the Greenbrier River Trail is located, it required a long, winding, mountainous, scenic, seven hour drive with little to no cellular reception.  

MFNG

The crew assembled for this ride were the usual suspects – me, Ryan, Bunt, Jay – except for the new guy, Beau.  Although no stranger to sleeping or defecating under the stars (he completed the Appalachian Trail in ‘99), this was Beau’s first foray into bikepacking.  So it was good to have Beau in tow for the ride, as his knowledge of ultralight gear, camp life, wild mushrooms, frontier acoustics, and Journey proved to be a natural fit for how we like to roll.    

Hot but Humid

At first glance, it looked as if the weather was going to be nicer in West Virginia.  Back at home, the forecast was calling for no rain and temperatures in the 90s, whereas the forecast for Cass was 50-60% chance of thunderstorms, and between the mid 60s and low to mid 80s.  It looked ok. What we didn’t anticipate was the humidity locked into the shady Greenbrier River valley.  As a result, the air there was soupy.  Heavy.  It enveloped and clung to you like an ultra thin wet suit that cooled the faster you rode.  Because of that, dehydration came on quickly and, at times, may have been an issue.    

How to Dig a Proper Cathole with Bob 

Digging a ‘cathole’ and relieving yourself in the forest can be tricky, especially if your balance gets thrown off for some reason.  Hangovers can do that.  Also, wet wood, bad knees, steep and rocky terrain in flip flops, etc.  These are difficult circumstances to navigate while dealing with severe gastrointestinal pressure.  So, if you’re planning a backcountry adventure, here are some simple steps you can follow for when nature inevitably comes calling:

1. Diet – In the backcountry, it’s important to maintain a heart healthy diet that is rich in fiber.  Ramen noodles, Clif Bars, hot pickles, beer, sour candy, beef jerky, slightly filtered river water, whiskey, and habanero hot sauce – these are all poor examples.  So when they are ingested together over a 24 hour period, you’ll want to be prepared.
2. T.P. – Chimpanzees in captivity are known to sometimes hurl feces in an effort to communicate.  And that is what you’ll be doing if you forget to pack toilet paper. Only no one will be around to see or hear you.  The main difference, however, is that while the chimps who throw poop (great name for a band) are able to do so because of a more slightly developed brain, your predicament will firmly plot you on the opposite end of the brain development spectrum.  It is also worth noting here that poison ivy has three leaves.   
3. Trowel – A trowel for digging a cathole is not only a wise investment, but an inexpensive one.  You can usually pick up a cheap trowel in the check out isle at any outdoor outfitter, or in any Dick’s Sporting Goods near the Coleman products.  That said, tell yourself you’re reducing your carbon footprint when you forget to bring one and try using a wet stick instead.  Or your hands.  Chances are you will immediately hit rocks, break the stick, cut a finger, start sweating, regret this episode of your life, lose your balance, and fall forward into nettle.   
4. Cathole Dimensions – A cathole should be about 6-8 inches deep by 4-6 inches wide.  These dimensions can be difficult to achieve, as rocks and tree roots can hinder your efforts.  That, and you will probably end up digging with a rotten wet stick. Until that breaks. Then your hands.  Either way, you’ll want to wash your hands afterwards, so…yeah.  See #3.
5. Hand Sanitizer – Before heading off from camp to find your special place to poo, be sure to dig that bottle of hand sanitizer out of your pack.  Once you do, go ahead and leave it on a picnic table, or drop it in the woods somewhere.  Yes, you probably needed it for proper sanitation and hygiene.  But ounces add up, and that bottle was more than likely weighing you down anyway.                

Amenities

As remote as the Greenbrier River Trail is, the 78 mile corridor is actually very well equipped and maintained.  The 15 primitive campsites along the trail, tailored for thru hiking or biking, are all equipped with a picnic table and a flat, roughly 10 foot by 10 foot raised platform for pitching tents on.  Water is also easy to find, as there are about seven wells to pump from along the trail.  Restrooms are in abundance, with outhouses every ten miles or so.  

As far as riding the trail is concerned, the majority of the trail is gravel and double track, but there are some paved portions too, especially through and around the town of Marlinton, WV.  And as it was mentioned earlier, most of the trail is nicely shaded, which was definitely appreciated given the high humidity throughout the valley.       

Harvest Moon

On the third day of the trip, the plan was to ride roughly 55 miles from the southern terminus in Caldwell, WV, back to Marlinton where we had a room reserved with one of the local outfitters in town, Appalachian Sport.  At about the halfway point for the day, we stopped for lunch at Jack Hoerner’s Corner, which is a restaurant, gift shop, and outfitter situated right off the trail.  

We ordered some lunch and posted up at a table on their porch deck overlooking the trail.  There, we ate, rested, and hydrated.  And as we did this, the speakers above us relentlessly pumped contemporary country music deep into our earholes.  

The twang of the music at Jack Hoerner’s definitely ruined my lunch.  It was so discordant and awful that, although I was really hungry at that point, I contemplated just leaving my sandwich and drink on the table and riding away.  

But then, like a cool rogue breeze cutting through and carrying away the stench of burnt mullet hair, Neil Young’s Harvest Moon began to gently flutter from out of the speakers above.  It was glorious.  It was also abruptly cut short after about 45 seconds.  But, that was all I needed.  It had cleansed my soul.  And for the remainder of my lazy summer ride through West Virginia, I had the perfect earbug to sing along with.       

Marlinton

After lunch, Bunt and I paced the group back into Marlinton, our destination for the evening.  We never looked at the time as we rode.  We just kept pushing to get there as fast as the heat and humidity would allow.  

We arrived at Appalachian Sport at around 5PM and Mara, the woman who was waiting to check us in, was literally locking up and calling it a day.  She was going to leave the key for us, but I felt bad, as she had also been trying to call us, only we had no reception until we got into town.

We checked in, showered, basked in the air conditioning, and stared mindlessly at the television. I sat outside and watched traffic for about an hour.  We were all exhausted, but no one more so than Ryan.  In fact, we were waiting to hear from Ryan.  He was not feeling well earlier in the day and stopped to rest back at mile marker 40.  There, he stopped, dropped his bike, spread out a blanket, collapsed, and told us he would catch up to us.    

I admit I was a little worried for Ryan. But not for too long. Fortunately, after leaving a few messages on his voicemail with directions to Appalachian Sport, he finally called.  He was ok. He rolled up to the joint by about 7-7:30PM.     

Good Timing

We arrived in Cass, WV, on a Saturday night. We rode to the end of the trail in Caldwell by Monday, and then back up to Marlinton by Tuesday.  That left us with about 25 miles on Wednesday morning to ride back to the cars.

With Wednesday being our last day on the trail, I decided to get an early jump.  There was a coffee place in town that doubled as a bicycle shop by the name of Dirtbean Coffee, and they opened at 7AM.  My plan was to get there for a cup of coffee first, breakfast second, and check out the bike shop third.  

Showered and packed, I rode to Dirtbean by 7:30AM.  It was early. The place was empty. I ordered a medium coffee, black, and sourdough french toast.  An Iron & Wine song was playing.  I took a seat by the window and whipped out my phone to catch up on the news.

As I read about the search warrant that was executed by the FBI at Mar-a-Lago on Monday, I recognized the beginning of Empty by Ray LaMontagne filtering through the speakers.  That’s when my food was brought out.  It was a lot.  All of it.  And yet, at the same time, it was all nothing.  The food would soon be gone. The song would soon be over.  Politicians, food for worms.  I thought about these things and their relationship to the trail ahead of me.  A Beck song began to play.   

I was getting ready to leave when Jay showed up.  Then Ryan.  But before I left Dirtbean Coffee, I walked upstairs to check out the bike shop.  To my surprise they had an entire full service shop on the second floor.  It was a nice set up. Then I remembered there was another bike shop in town called Greenbrier Bikes.  

I rode around the corner to Greenbrier Bikes and I was greeted by Scott, the owner.  Since our group had sustained multiple flat tires over the last few days, I bought another tube and chewed the fat with Scott for a minute.  He, like me, had a penchant for steel bikes, and so we went on about those for a while, as well as other bike industry-related topics.  I paid for the tube and Scott hooked me up with a shop sticker (I also have a penchant for stickers).  Then I hit the trail.  

The Final Stretch

Like a conversation with a four year old mute, the ride back to Cass was short and quiet.  The humidity was still thick. A thunderstorm was beginning to brew. I stopped twice to fill up on water at two of the well pumps.  At both the water was cold. And didn’t taste funny either. It was just good.

Then it was over. Jay was already at the parking lot when I arrived.  Then Ryan behind me.  Then Bunt.  Then Beau.  

Slowly, we began to pack up and get organized for the drive home. There was thunder in the distance as I changed into the clean clothes I left in the car during the trip. It started getting darker. And as Jay strapped on the last bike and jumped back into his car, the sky finally let loose.             

Lums Pond State Park, Delaware

Wilmington Riverwalk to Chesapeake & Delaware Canal Trail

8-11 April, 2022

78 miles (RT)  

Run It Back

Back in January, I texted Ryan, Bunt, and Jay about riding the Washington and Old Dominion Trail (W&OD), a 44 mile paved bike path that basically runs along the southern side of the Potomac River from Washington D.C. to Purcellville, Virginia.  We had never ridden any part of this trail before and so we, Ryan in particular, wanted to change that.  

However, due to the absence of any campsites near the western terminus of the W&OD, along with a momentary change in plans, we decided to pivot. Instead of riding the W&OD, we would ride  the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal Towpath (C&O). Afterall, the C&O had an ample number of campsites along its 184 miles which we could pick and choose from, depending on how far we wanted to ride.  That, and we had ridden the C&O once before so there was some familiarity.  

Then plans changed again. 

The problem with riding the C&O was water.  All of the campsites along the C&O have water pumps (although not potable and needs to be treated).  However, being that our trip was planned for the 8-10 April, and the National Parks Service didn’t schedule to turn on the water until the 15th, we were going to have to pull our drinking water from the Potomac River.     

With no one eager to drink from the Potomac, we settled on another familiar ride, albeit a shorter version of it.  We decided to run it back with a ride from Wilmington to Lums Pond State Park, Delaware. This was a route we had ridden before, only this time, we would begin along the Wilmington Riverwalk and head south on the Wilmington section of the East Coast Greenway.     

Just Lovely

For all the charm Delaware City possesses, with its clapboard sided, colonial-style townhomes and maritime vibe, it is a charm one might willingly and easily forget about.  

In short, Delaware City’s lazy, seaside, historical feel only thinly veils the surly, phlegmy, fish-white underbelly that sometimes exposes itself to outsiders during the off season.  

Picture a restaurant that overlooks the canal in Delaware City with a lovely view of the water. And let’s say they have a large outdoor seating area. A deck. The deck is empty. There are zero customers. When a group of out-of-town cyclists quietly walk their bikes up a ramp onto the empty deck to order lunch (and, more importantly, take shelter from an approaching thunderstorm), you might expect said restaurant to be accommodating, if only to make money.  A good tip on a slow day.  Or if not for those reasons, just to be, I don’t know, cool? 

You would not expect some crabby Karen to come flying out of the front door, yelling and coughing and kicking you out like a trespassing skateboarders.  Yet, that’s what happened to us.  Which is unfortunate too because for all of our faults, we are nice people.  And we tip well when people look out for us.  Anyway, I hope that restaurant has good food.                 

Lums Pond State Park

After the fun of leaving Delaware City, we headed west on the C&D Canal Trail.  By now, the rain and wind we were hoping to wait out in Delaware City had arrived.  The timing of the rain was inconvenient too because while it would have been easy to find a bridge or tree to shelter underneath, there is no such shelter along the C&D.  It is open. 

After a few miles in the rain, we found a bridge to huddle under, but it was so high that it offered nothing in the way of protection from the elements.  Also, by the time we reached the bridge, the rain stopped.    

We hung out under that bridge along the C&D for a minute, waxing poetic about how none of us packed any rain gear. Left with a mix of intermittent clouds, splintered sun, and wind, we made the chilly ride to Lums Pond State Park.  Where it hailed. 

We pulled into our campsite at Lums Pond just before the rain and hail started and pitched our tents. Except for Ryan. He didn’t get his rainfly on in time. Or his tent leaked. Or both. Either way, his stuff was soaked.   

Lums Pond has two trails that run the circumference of the pond; Little Jersey Trail (8.1mi) and Swamp Forest Trail (6.4mi).  Swamp Forest trail is marked for hikers only.  The Little Jersey Trail is marked for biking, and so we rode a short section of this trail on Sunday.  While only an 8mi loop, the trail seems like a nice single track ride suited for either cross country or gravel bikes.  We would have ridden further but the small section we did ride was still too sodden from the rain the day before.    

Support Wagon

One of the casualties of our flip-flopping plans at the onset of this trip was accidentally leaving our good buddy, Hanna, out of the loop on our plans.  Hanna wasn’t interested in riding the W&OD Trail, as that didn’t involve camping out.  So when plans changed to camping out, we kinda, sorta, totally forgot to tell him. I think. But not on purpose. Anyway, sorry Hanna.

As it turned out, our forsaken buddy, Hanna, was not to be left behind.  Nope.  He instead threw a bunch of beers, sausages, and homemade guacamole into his car and met up with us at Lums Pond State Park to camp out for the night.  It was a solid move.  Some went to bed earlier than others, but we all ate like kings.  Kings who like to sleep in the dirt.    

The Erie Canalway Trail 

Buffalo to Albany, New York

18-24 July, 2021

372 miles

Better Late

In January of 2020, Ryan, Bunt, and I purchased train tickets for July. One way. From Albany to Buffalo, New York.  The plan was to get off the train with our bikes in Buffalo and bikepack our way back to Albany via the Erie Canalway Trail.  But then 2020 happened, so we reluctantly cancelled our tickets.  

Eventually, 2021 arrived. Travel conditions improved.  Vaccines were rolled out. We decided to have another go at the Erie Canal trip.  Same plan, only a year later.  We did the math.  Bought stuff.  It was on.  Again.       

Amtrak and Bicycles

One thing Amtrak is consistent with regarding bicycles is that even if you pay them to feel otherwise,  they really don’t give a mule’s ass about your bicycle or how to fit it on a train.  So far in my experience, they offer two options for stowing your bike.  

Option one is just to put all the bikes in an empty train car, where they are free to fall into one another while the train is moving.  The advantage is you will not have to dissemble your bike to make it fit. The disadvantage is that you very well could end up with broken spokes.  Or, if you want to pay up for carbon, a cracked frame or fork.  Either way, Amtrak doesn’t mind.

For this trip, however, we went with option two (option one was not an option).  Option two allows you to stow your bike in a ‘bike closet’ in the main car.  The advantage is that these bike closets are very efficient, as they take up little space in the passenger car.  The disadvantage is that while the closets take up little space, your bike will be left blocking the aisle because it needs more space.  A lot more space.  In short, your bike probably won’t fit.  Unless, that is, you take off the front wheel.  Not a problem when your bike has quick release skewers and you can easily remove the wheel.  

However, when your bike has thru-axles and hydraulic disc brakes, you’ll likely need a 6mm allen wrench to remove the wheel. Once the front wheel is removed, you run the risk of seizing the brakes because there is no longer a rotor separating the brake pads, leaving them vulnerable in the event someone walks by and bumps your break lever. 

Again, these are not Amtrak’s problems. They are yours. And they will inform you of this.  

Three Guys from Philly and a Guy from Brooklyn Walk into a Hostel

Once upon a time there was a retired, NYC firefighter from Brooklyn who decided to take a train from Kingston to Buffalo, NY, and then ride his bike back to Kingston. Solo. Without a tent.  His name was Peter.  And we met him on the train to Buffalo. 

It worked out meeting Peter, who we immediately got on well with.  Like us, he enjoyed plain speaking, making fun of everyone, a good belly laugh, and using profanity.  His plan was to stay in hotels along the Canalway Trail. I think he was either using or earning points on his credit card.

Peter from Brooklyn was also the one to tell us about Hostel Buffalo.  This information turned out useful, since it had been raining all the way into Buffalo and we were supposed to ride from the train station to a campground 15 miles north of the city. 

After a friendly email and phone call from the train, it was JP at Hostel Buffalo who hooked us up with three bunks for the night.  Also, the hostel was only a mile or two from the train station in Buffalo’s Theater District.   

JP

Hostel Buffalo had a quirky, cozy, artistic feel to it.  I liked it. They provided us a storage room to stash our steeds for the evening, as well as a laundry room, bathroom, showers, kitchen, and a guest lounge.  The lounge was of particular importance as it was equipped with a proper ping-pong table.     

In Buffalo

After we settled in at Hostel Buffalo, it was time to feast.  The four of us -Peter from Brooklyn, Bunt, Ryan, and I- walked around in the rain, looking for a place to carbo load.  We finally decided on a brick oven pizza joint right next door to the hostel. I ordered pasta and the hummus. The hummus wasn’t bad. 

While we sat at the bar, Ryan challenged me to come up with the names of bands from the 90’s who were ‘really good, but who also really never made it.’ I suggested a few bands like firehose, Bad Brains, Descendants. But no. Those weren’t good enough for Ryan.  He became visibly frustrated with me.  I don’t blame him.  Also, the entire conversation took place before, during, and after Ryan ordered the meat lover’s pizza with meat sauce and extra meat and ate the entire thing. 

After dinner, we perused the Theater District.  The rain was a drizzle.  The streets were empty. We stopped at a local watering hole, in large part because of Bunt’s insatiable lust for local beers.  After the bar, we made our way back to the hostel and chatted with JP and a few of the other guests about camping along the Erie Canalway Trail.

For breakfast, Ryan and I woke up early and headed straight for the ping-pong table.  I took the first game.  Ryan took the second.  Then, at the beginning of the tiebreaker, Ryan stole four points from me. He said he didn’t cheat. I let it go. He looked innocent.     

Anyway, we left Hostel Buffalo and needed to ride north. So we rode south.  The thinking was we would begin our eastward journey at the very beginning of the Erie Canalway Trail, which was a little south of the hostel.  But, we couldn’t find a southern terminus.  What we did find were detours, overlapping trail routes, dead ends, Lake Erie, a closed bridge, and fenced off sections of trail with no signage or discernable detours.  Eventually, we found our way onto the actual Erie Canalway Trail, but not without ten additional miles of sightseeing around Buffalo.    

Lockport

Our stop for Sunday night was at the Niagra County Camping Resort in Lockport, NY, a privately owned, RV campground about 3-4 miles north of the trail.  While we were flanked on all but one side by RVs, the allotted area for tent camping was a flat, lush green lawn, and very shaded.  The mosquitoes were somewhat of an issue but that’s also upstate New York in July.  

Lockport is where we saw our first locks along the canal.  These are not just remnants, but working, operational locks that are depended upon for maritime travel.  One couple whose boat was tied up at Lockport told me how they put in at Fairport, NY, and were taking the canal west and up the locks to Lake Erie, and then westward to their home in Michigan.  Further east, there was a much larger boat that was headed east from Lake Erie to Fort Lauderdale, Florida.     

In Lyons 

After leaving Niagra County Camping Resort, we rode on to Lyons, NY.  This stretch of trail between Lockport and Lyons was flat and the least scenic of the entire trip.  Also, there was very little shade along this section, as the Canalway cut mostly through rural farmland.  In hindsight, the sunscreen and water were key. 

The Town of Lyons, once the peppermint capital of the world, did not have a campground or anywhere with an available room for the evening.  However, Lyons has a fire station.  After a tip and a friendly phone call to the fire chief, we were given permission to camp on the lawn behind the Lyons Fire Department. 

Of all the places we camped, the fire station in Lyons turned out to be one of the more memorable spots.  It was flat, shaded, and grassy.  It offered an outstanding view of the canal, too.   

We introduced ourselves, were given a brief tour of the property, and settled in.  We pitched our tents, locked up the bikes, and walked to a nearby grocery store on the other side of the canal.  It was a good thing we set up our tents first, as it started raining during our walk back to the fire station.  By the time we reached the fire station, the heavier rain picked up.  Then the wind picked up.  Then the lightning.

Stuck in a thunderstorm, we found a covered concrete barbecue pit behind the fire station and sheltered there.  It didn’t occur to us that a barbecue pit, covered by a metal roof, was probably a stupid place to shelter from lightning. But it kept us dry.  Sort of.  That, and no one was barbecued.    

Rochester

Of the places we stayed, Rochester, NY, might be the least memorable.  This is by no means a knock against the City of Rochester.  Not at all. Unfortunately, where we stayed, the Country Inn & Suites, was south of the city on the other side of Interstate 390.  And after a long day of riding in the heat, we had only enough energy to check into a hotel and then walk to a nearby T.G.I Friday’s for dinner.  One highlight, however, was meeting up with Peter from Brooklyn again. He was also staying in Rochester and met up with us at Friday’s. 

In hindsight, it is unfortunate we didn’t get to tour Rochester more thoroughly.  That said, I plan to go back one day to walk around and properly check out Rochester’s history.  After all, Frederick Douglass lived in Rochester for 25 years. His speech, What to the Slave is the Fouth of July?, which he delivered in Rochester’s Corinthian Hall in 1852, still holds up as one of the most badass compositions of all time.   

The next morning, while enjoying a cup of covfefe at the Country Inn & Suites’s continental breakfast, we watched the news as Jeff Bezos and his astronauts (great name for a band) launched themselves into space inside a flaming metal phallus (another great name for a band).

On one hand, the flaming metal phallus was an appropriate vessel, considering the passengers and their affinity for screwing over their employees and not paying taxes.  On the other hand, the benefits of developing space travel to cut the carbon emissions from conventional air travel could be well worth the investment.  Either way, there is now little doubt that Jeff Bezos’s transformation to Dr. Evil is complete.         

After breakfast, we left the hotel and rode to the Rochester REI, which is conveniently located just off the Erie Canalway Trail.  In search of chamois butter, they didn’t have any.  Ryan bought a rubber phone mount for his bike.   

Syracuse

Downtown Syracuse is a flat, clean city.  It definitely has the feel of a college town, but without the meathead, fraternity crap you would expect from a school as renowned for its sports teams as Syracuse is.  

We checked in at the historic Marriott Syracuse Downtown and set out for dinner.  We walked a few blocks to The Hops Spot.  I ordered the poutine. It was served, and then it was gone. It was a large portion too, but I don’t think it lasted more than four minutes.   

After dinner, we meandered around downtown Syracuse.  There was a free concert going on in one of the town squares.  The band Sponge was headlining.  Once we found out they were on the bill, we went back to the bar, bought beer, then went straight back to the hotel.  

Then, the next morning, Ryan left the ride.  

He took the 7AM train from Syracuse to Albany, and then from Albany back to Philly.  We were sorry to see Ryan go.  But we understood.  Co-managing a fantasy baseball league is obviously a very demanding position.  And so it goes, Ryan was unable to finish with us.  But that’s ok. 

To his credit, a ride from Buffalo to Syracuse is no small feat.  Still, I think Ryan has to go back and finish the trail one day.  Complete his training, he must.  Maybe Albany to Syracuse. 

After Ryan left, Bunt and I hit out for a coffee shop.  We found the Hawley Green Cafe a few blocks away from the hotel. It had been a few days since my last legitimate cup of coffee, and this place did not disappoint.  I ordered a large red-eye and an everything bagel, toasted. 

Well fed and loaded up, we were off on a 56 mile ride to Lock 20, located just outside of Utica.  Only my water bottle was left behind somewhere on the trail the day before, so we did make one quick stop at Mello Velo Bicycle Shop & Cafe.  

Rome

Rome, NY, was not what you would call fun.  We were turned around a few times.  Signage was poor. Much of the trail passed along high stress roads and intersections. At least that’s where we ended up. Also, we were both hungry and really, really looking forward to a burrito, as there was a burrito joint in town.  We found the place only to learn they were closed. All of the employees were on vacation for the week.  

Lock 20 

After leaving Rome, we arrived at Lock 20, which was where we planned on camping for the night.  When we got there, we ran into Peter from Brooklyn again.  He was chatting with a couple, Ed and Connie from Colorado.  Connie had met up with her husband Ed for the ride from Buffalo to Long Island, NY.  Her husband, Ed, was on the tail end of a three month ride from Oregon to Long Island. More amazing was when Ed told us he was 70 years old.

Peter rode ahead to the hotel where he was staying.  Meanwhile, Bunt, Ed, and I rode to a gas station to buy junk food and beer.  Afterwards, we made a makeshift campfire in the campsite grill and stayed up late, the four of us, eating, drinking, exchanging stories and swatting mosquitoes.   

By the way, the campsites at Lock 20 are a good example of how all the locks along the Erie Canalway Trail should be set up.  A few times we passed locks where they had the space to accommodate thru campers but, for whatever reason, did not permit camping.  Lock 21, for example, easily had the space to incorporate campsites.  There were others too, but Lock 21 comes to mind because like Lock 20, it was also a good place to watch a lock in action.  

Lock 15

The next morning at Lock 20, Connie and Ed packed up and beat us out of camp by a couple of hours.  We took our time.  Had some oatmeal.  After the mosquitoes started attacking again, we finally packed up, chugged a gallon of water, and began the 42 miles to Lock 15 in Marcy, NY.

Our stay at Lock 15 turned out to be one hell of a beautiful evening.  First, the weather was sunny and warm, but cooled later in the afternoon.  Then, as the evening approached, the sun ducked below the canal to the west, illuminating the sky and water in an array of yellow, orange and blue pastels.  Looking north, on the the other side of the canal, a thunderstorm, flashing in a dark wall of distant clouds. Then, as if not to be outdone, from the east emerged a radiant full moon over the canal.  It was wild.  

There, we met up with Connie and Ed, as well as Peter from Brooklyn.  We pitched our tents, locked up the bikes, and walked into the town of Fort Plain for dinner. I think it was a pizza place.  Whatever it was, it suffices to say it wasn’t great.  The food was adequate.  The bathroom was questionable.  In the end, it was sustenance.  

It was at dinner when Peter received a call from the hotel where he was staying.  They had been hit by lightning. They couldn’t have any guests stay there as a safety issue or something.  Long story short, Peter couldn’t find another place to stay and so he crashed in my tent with me. And yes, it kinda sucked because for a two person tent, my tent is admittedly a bit small for two fully grown men.  However, we’re talking about a retired NYC firefighter here. You look out for those guys.          

Albany

At about 75 miles, the ride from Lock 15 to Albany the next day was our longest day on the bikes.  It should also be said that if you are expecting to cruise easily into Albany (like we were) you will be disappointed.  It is up.  And then more up.  But steeper.  Not to complain.  I like climbing.  Bunt likes climbing too, but towards the end of a 75 mile day in 90 degree heat, it was a beat down. 

And then we were back at the car. 372 miles. Buffalo to Albany.

Finished.

End-to-Ender

If I were to change anything about my experience along the Erie Canalway Trail, there wouldn’t be too much.  Obviously, I’d like that last game of ping pong back from Ryan.  Seeing more of Rochester. That sketchy pizza place in Fort Plain. I’d like that decision back. And in Rome, I will never forget the burrito that broke my heart.       

What I liked most about riding the Erie Canalway Trail was everything else. The trail was fast, the scenery was always changing from rural to small town to city and back. There was decent signage. Drivers were cool and most of the time, there were bike lanes where the trail followed a road.

The people we met across New York were excellent. Peter from Brooklyn. Connie and Ed from Colorado (originally from Buffalo and Long Island, respectively). All of us have kept in touch since the ride too, keeping tabs on who finished when and where.  My favorite is this picture of Connie and Ed. Bikes by their sides, up to their ankles in the Atlantic.  

Keepin’ the old man out.

It’s a special thing when people from all over the country, from varying backgrounds, can come together to share in something that is both adventurous and challenging. Whether it’s the Erie Canalway or the Appalachian Trail, when communities invest in trail infrastructure, they are remembered and rewarded for it.  Those who visit the towns along these trails invest back into those communities by shopping at their stores, staying in their hotels, eating in their restaurants, and hanging out in their coffee shops. This is the way it works. Which is why we need more ideas like The Circuit Trails and The Great American Rail-Trail.  They are what The Erie Canalway Trail used to be.   

__________________________________________________________________________________

Outroduction: The Original Itinerary 

Erie Canalway Trail Ride, 17 July to 23-24 July, 2021

Saturday, 17 July, 2021 (sunset @ 8:50PM)

• 5:30AM. Arrive at Bunt’s.  Leave by 6AM.
• Train 281 departs from Albany-Rensselaer Station at 1PM.   
• Arrive at Buffalo Exchange Street Station at 6:37PM.

• Option 2 – Ride 31mi to Niagara County Camping Resort 

(approximately 2.7mi from the Erie Canalway Trail. $39-20. Walk-in)

Lockport, NY

369 Wheeler Rd

716-434-3991

Sunday, 18 July

• Scenario 1 – (from North Tonawanda) Ride 53mi to Hulberton, NY 

Red Rock Ponds RV Resort (located on the Erie Canalway Trail. $25 per tent.  Call day before or morning of)

Hulberton, NY

16097 Canal Rd

585-638-2445

• Scenario 2 – (from Lockport) Ride 35mi to Hulberton, NY 

Monday, 19 July

• Option 1 – Ride 48mi to Lock 30 at Macedon, NY (FREE camping at Lock 30)
• Option 2 – Ride 67mi to Lyons Fire Station, Lyons, NY (FREE to camp behind fire house, showers, restrooms) 

Tuesday, 20 July

• Ride 52mi to Green Lakes State Park (Make reservations 1-2 days before. $18)

Fayetteville / Syracuse NY

7900 Green Lakes Rd

315-637-6111

Wednesday, 21 July

• Ride 47mi to Lock 20 State Campsite (FREE. Off trail. Camping, Restroom, Water)

Marcy / Oriskany, NY

River Rd

315-736-4617

Thursday, 22 July

• Ride 42mi to Lock 15 State Campsite (FREE. Off trail. Camping, Restroom, Water)

Fort Plain, NY

518-993-4161

Friday, 23 July

• Option 1 – Ride 72mi to Albany-Rensselaer Station.
• Drive home.  

• *Option 2 – Ride 42mi to Amsterdam, possibly stay at Lock 10 (FREE to camp. May need to inform Lockmaster, but allowed). 

*Saturday, 24 July

Drive home.

Ride 46mi from Lock 10 to Albany.

Ghost Town Trail, Hoodlebug Trail 

Ebensburg to Black Lick, and Black Lick to Indiana, PA

28-30 March, 2021

90 miles (RT)  

Ghosts

Let’s talk about ghosts.  For a second, think about what you would do if you saw one.  

Would you run?  Would you be boring and do nothing?  Or would you ask the ghost questions?  And at what point would you be convinced that what you’re seeing is not a figment of your imagination before you start asking those questions?  

My Uncle Jim has told me tales of soldiers wandering the battlefields at Gettysburg late at night.  Then there’s those ghost hunter shows where, in each episode, they spend the night in a different, condemned, loud, echoey, old building with their microphones cranked up to 11.  Boo.

Whatever your take on ghosts is, it doesn’t matter.  Ghosts are very probably not real, which is why Bunt, Ryan and I didn’t see any on the Ghost Town Trail, a beautiful 46 mile stretch of rail trail between the towns of Ebensburg and Black Lick, Pennsylvania.     

Go West

Having already ridden most of the rail trails throughout Southeastern Pennsylvania, the Ghost Town Trail in the western part of the state was a consideration for a future bike trip.  However, once it was named Pennsylvania’s Trail of the Year for 2020, the deliberation was over.  It was time to make the four hour drive west to see what we were missing out on.

Weather

We sort of lucked out with the weather.  Sort of.  Basically, we were soaked and frozen on Sunday, frozen on Monday, and a little sunburned on Tuesday. 

March is a tricky month when packing for a bikepacking trip.  Freezing temperatures at night, with rain, wind, and snow.  But also sunny with temperatures in the 60s during the day.  In short, you end up packing a lot of different clothing.  

For this trip, I packed a base layer and three jackets: a light windbreaker, a light puffer, plus a rain jacket.  My legs were covered with a combination of thermal leg warmers, a pair of convertible pants, as well as a pair of rain pants which, at times, had to double as windbreakers.  It was a lot to pack on my Jamis Renegade, but the bike was equipped for it, and every piece of gear was put to use.

Nanty Glo

On Sunday night, we camped in the town of Nanty Glo, PA.  We had been given permission by the Nanty Glo Borough Municipal Authority to use one of the campsites near the town’s public swimming pool, even though the park was still closed for the season. It should be stated that Nanty Glo is the only town along the Ghost Town Trail that has recognized and addressed the need for campsites along the trail’s corridor.  

Anyway, we had the park in Nanty Glo to ourselves for the night.  Well, except for one duck.  At the top of the park, there was a stream that was dammed up into a pond, and there was a duck.  And that one duck had the whole place to himself.  Or herself.  However the duck identifies, that is.  

At 45

While he seemed cool, the Nanty Glo Duck definitely didn’t know that I had just celebrated my 45th birthday.  Because I like to think that had the duck understood it was my birthday, he wouldn’t have chased me around and away from the pond when I tried to take a little hike with my camera.    

Ghost Town Trail

It suffices to say the four hour drive through the rain to the Ghost Town Trail was worth it.  Spanning across Cambria and Indiana counties, it is evident from the benches, restrooms, gazebos, signage, trail maintenance, fencing, and preservation of historical artifacts that this is a trail the local communities have invested in.     

Now, a word on pea gravel. Pea Gravel is basically grey, small pieces of rock that pack down superbly on rail trails.  That said, the entire stretch of the Ghost Town Trail was covered in pea gravel, which made for smooth rolling, even uphill against a headwind.   And for a true gravel bike enthusiast, this is the ideal situation.  Nothing against paved trails.  Paved trails are often a welcomed relief on long rides with a lot of weight on the bike.  However, there is no substitute for the crunch and feel of a well-graded, gravel rail trail.     

While the Ghost Town Trail rolls exceptionally well, it was hard not to make frequent stops to take in the history of this old railroad line.  In fact, the phrase Ghost Town is actually a reference to the ‘ghost towns’ scattered along the trail, which today are marked only by the remnants of a once booming coal mining industry that was unable to sustain itself into the latter half of the 20th century.     

Hoodlebug Trail

One of the difficulties in planning for the Ghost Town Trail was finding campsites.  This is partly due to long portions of the Ghost Town Trail traversing through Pennsylvania State Game Lands, which prohibit overnight camping.  

We lucked out in Nanty Glo, where there was camping available less than a mile from the trail.  However, there was only one other campground anywhere near the western end of the trail, and it was 13 miles north in the town of Indiana, Pennsylvania, at Burnhead Grazings, a 62 acre sheep farm.  So, to get to Burnhead Grazings, we used the Hoodlebug Trail.

Burnhead Grazings

The Hoodlebug Trail is a 13 mile stretch of rail trail that intersects with the western end of the Ghost Town Trail in the town of Black Lick, PA.   From Black Lick, we followed the Hoodlebug Trail north, where we jumped off the trail in Homer City and hit the road for about five miles before reaching our destination.  

As far as campsites go, we couldn’t have asked for a more scenic and accommodating place to camp for the night than Burnhead Grazings.  The owner, Moire (pronounced ‘Morey’), hooked us up with a beautiful campsite situated between their sheep farm and a babbling creek.  At night, it was so dark that, with the fire pit fully ablaze, you would look up and see more stars than expected.  Then, as if on cue, a waning but close to full moon emerged on the eastern horizon.  Blanketed in the pale moonlight, we talked s#&% and drank beers around the fire well into the 30 degree night.

IUP

The Indiana University of Pennsylvania’s (IUP) campus is located in the town of Indiana, PA.  There, you will also find the northern most terminus for the Hoodlebug Trail.  With this in mind, we decided to take a different route back to the car in Ebensburg by riding the four miles to IUP’s main campus in search of the Hoodlebug Trailhead.

We ended up lost. Because of that, we added about five more miles to our overall trip.  And if you are wondering how three reasonably literate adults missed the huge green arrows with white bicycles painted on the street, directing you to the trailhead, not to mention the signs that read ‘HBT This Way’, then join the club.  Eventually, we found the trailhead and rode off into the headwind.  

Holy Sheetz

This topic doesn’t really deserve a mention but whatever.  If you travel to Western Pennsylvania, do not be alarmed by how frequently you see those red Sheetz convenience stores.  Seriously.  Sheetz has a strangle hold on the Western Pennsylvania convenience store market.  They are everywhere.   In fact, by the time we left Ebensburg on Tuesday, I have to admit that I was looking forward to seeing a Wawa again, even if only to be reminded of how terrible their coffee is. 

And it is absolutely terrible. 

Cape Henlopen State Park, Delaware 

Lewes to Rehoboth Beach Loop

30-31 January, 2021

22.36 Miles (RT)

Forecast

Cold and dark with a snowstorm developing early Sunday. Not ideal conditions for a leisurely weekend bike ride along the Atlantic Ocean (during a pandemic).  And yet, these were exactly the conditions Ryan, Bunt, and I faced after Ryan reserved the three of us a cabin for the weekend at Cape Henlopen State Park, Delaware.

We had concerns.  

Our first concern was whether sharing a cabin would be wise in the age of covid-19.  

After some discussions, it was decided it would be cool.  We don’t really see anyone else socially outside of our bike rides and backpacking trips. That, and all three of us are lucky enough to work from home (as our spouses are, too).  We agreed that by wearing our masks, not touching our own faces, using hand sanitizer, and generally keeping a safe distance from other people, as well as each other, we could probably safely manage the risks of covid-19. 

Also, the weather was a concern.  The forecast was calling for temperatures in the teens and snow on Sunday.  While the ride would be cold, we would be staying in a cabin rather than in tents. 

Ultimately, the need for a scenic, 20-some-mile oceanside ride proved too strong to call off plans on accounts of pandemics, freezing temperatures, icy roads, and potential snowstorms.  

Cape Henlopen State Park

We had discussed Cape Henlopen as a destination ride for some time before this trip.   However, the problem was always the distance of the trail loops.  With one loop a little over three miles, and the other loop somewhere between 15-20 miles,  even combined, they never seemed long enough to justify driving three hours to get to them.  Then came January.

Albeit cold, January is a great time for this ride.  With the limited daylight, a three hour drive allows for enough time to get in a 15 to 20 mile ride before dark.  

Another advantage January usually affords is lighter traffic on the trails.  I say usually because, while it is typically true that cold weather during the off season would result in emptier trails, Ryan and I both took notice of how there were a lot of people on the park trails for January.     

Three Miles 

The main trail within Cape Henlopen State Park is a little over three miles in length.  In truth, it makes for a better ride on the cruiser, or with the family, than on a gravel bike.  With it’s windblown views of giant grassy sand dunes and the foamy Atlantic, this relatively flat and winding trail would be perfect for a couple of morning loops with some coffee.  Or, even better, a morning run with some music.  Either way, on this trail, it all goes by so quickly.  

Rehoboth Beach 

As a state, Delaware boasts a plethora of bicycle trails.  One of the best places to experience their expanding bicycle trail infrastructure is between the towns of Lewes and Rehoboth Beach.   

Our ride took us from Cape Henlopen State Park into Lewes, where we rode out to the end of the fishing pier.  Afterwards, we rode south, where the trail cuts through developments of newly constructed homes.  With names like The Governors, these treeless estates were strange. With fountains and white fencing, it was like riding through a golf course, or an empty suburban movie set.  It just didn’t seem like a real neighborhood where actual humans would live. 

Once we reached the town of Rehoboth Beach, we dined outside at Dogfish Head Brewing and Eats.  There, we ate, drank, and shivered.  To be fair, the good people at Dogfish Head were thoughtful enough to provide space heaters for the guests seated outside.  But in the shade, temperatures were already in the low 20s.  We ate and left.  Then it got colder. 

Gordons Pond Trail

The jewel of the entire ride was Gordons Pond Trail, a 3.5 mile stretch of trail on the way back from Rehoboth to Cape Henlopen State Park.  

But before I tell you about it, let me also tell you this is the part of the trip where we had to stop at a pavilion and stand in the sun to warm up. 

Anyway, Gordons Pond trail runs mostly though and over state protected marshes and wetlands.  For those with an eye for wildlife, especially birding, this trail is brimming with action.  There were herons in abundance, hawks, and eagles.  And so in the quiet of winter, as the sun was setting, it suffices to say that Gordons Pond Trail presented some very inspiring landscapes.     

Short but Cold

Our total mileage for the day ended up a mere 22.36 miles.  Go ahead and laugh.  I, too, would laugh, were I not still trying to thaw out my face.   

Overall, for the change of scenery, for the needed exercise, and for the reminder on the importance of technical winter riding gear, it is safe to say this trip was a success.       

Delaware and Lehigh (D&L) Trail

Lehigh Gap to Black Diamond Trailhead

6-8 August, 2020

94 Miles (RT)

Isaias

In 2020, Bunt, Ryan and I lost out on riding across New York state by way of the Erie Canal Trail due to the Covid-19 outbreak.  Our trip had been planned for June, but a ride across New York during a pandemic seemed too sketchy, plus we were planning to use Amtrak to get from Albany to Buffalo.  That suddenly seemed like a bad idea too.

To make up for it, we came up with a plan for early August. Staying a little closer to home, we planned to start in New Hope, PA, and spend five days bikepacking along the Delaware and Lehigh Rivers on the Delaware & Lehigh (D&L) Trail.  

However, as with all things 2020, that plan went to s#&%.  Once Tropical Storm Isaias rolled up the East Coast, sections of the trail ended up under water.  So, we waited for the water to recede and our five day trip turned into a three day trip.  2020. 

Along the D&L, Jim Thorpe, PA

Parking

Parking at Lehigh Gap can be tricky.  There are plenty of parking lots for, all along, and right next to the D&L Trail, all maintained by Delaware & Lehigh National Heritage Corridor.  

But that’s not tricky.

Instead, make the hard left across busy Route 248, into a blind turn of oncoming traffic, onto and up a rocky, washed out section of steep double track in a 2011 Honda Pilotmobile, loaded with bikes and arrive at the Appalachian Trail Parking lot.     

The Lehigh River

D&L Trail at Glen Onoko Falls

Lehigh Gorge 

The most enjoyable section of this entire ride was through Lehigh Gorge.  Combined with the kayaking and rafting activity along the Lehigh River (which was still high and fast from Isaias) the gorge was not only scenic, but had a festive atmosphere to it.  All in all, Lehigh Gorge was my favorite part of the ride.      

Strip Mall

Three guys ride their bikes to a strip mall.

Two guys go into the store.  One guy watches the bikes.

The two guys in the store each buy a pickle.  They walk out.

They find the third guy watching the bikes.

The two guys eat their pickles.  The third guy watches them eat.

The bikes were safe.

Thunderstorm Ride

On the first day, we rode the D&L Trail about 40 miles from the Appalachian Trail Parking lot in Palmerton to White Haven, PA, and camped at Lehigh Gorge Family Campground.  

On the second day, we rode the 24ish miles round trip from White Haven to Black Diamond Trailhead at the northern end of the D&L Trail.  The best part of this ride was on the way back down the mountain from Black Diamond Trailhead.  Not only was it 45 minutes of steady downhill, railroad grade gravel trail, but we were also racing a thunderstorm back to White Haven, which made for a pretty fun pace. 

On the the third day, we rode the 40 miles from the campground back to the car in Palmerton, PA.

Over the Lehigh River, D&L Trail, north of Jim Thorpe, PA

How Not to Break a Stick for a Campfire in August

1. First, find a sturdy picnic table, preferably one where your friends are using their camp stoves to boil water for dinner.
2. Next, find a stick big enough that it may have been a small tree trunk at one point in time.
3. Now, place one end of the fallen tree trunk between the legs of the picnic table.  This is for leverage. Watch.
4. Finally, with the other end in hand, run forward so that instead of snapping the the wooden limb, you jerk the picnic table around so that the lit stoves, food, and camp cookware that were on top of the table go crashing to the ground in the dark.   

The Wait

It’s been five months since we rode the D&L.  In hindsight, I should have written about this trip much, much sooner.  Like about four months ago.

However, much like how tropical storm Isaias pushed back and screwed up the original plan for our D&L trip, the timing of this post is just that: pushed back and screwed up.

East Coast Greenway

Wilmington to Lums Pond State Park, Delaware

28-29 June, 2020

65.2 Miles (RT)

Wilmington, DE

Delaware. Again.

Delaware is interesting.  A mix of industry, farmland, suburbs, and open space, Delaware is the land of no sales tax.  Combine that with a blossoming bicycle trail infrastructure, and the conditions for a cheap bikepacking trip through the first state seem fairly ideal.  

That said, Delaware is also creepy as shit.  A slave state that sided with the Union Army during the American Civil War, Delaware has the feel of a place stuck somewhere between mask and no mask.   

On one hand, you have a coordinated system of state and county parks interconnected by a network of waterways and bike trails, most notably, the East Coast Greenway.  On the other hand, there is the environmental scourge of landfills, oil refineries, and the chemical industry commingled within a patchwork quilt of farmland.    

Small, flat, dirty, and somewhere in between, Delaware is the American perineum.  And it was Ryan who convinced me, Bunt, and Cory, that riding 65 miles across this tainted landscape in 95 degree heat would be a good idea. 

Ryan had no chance with those women. Or that guy.

East Coast Greenway        

For this trip, we decided to meet at Ryan’s house, which is just north of Wilmington.  From there, we took the East Coast Greenway south through sections of Bellevue State Park, Bringhurst Woods Park, Rockwood Park, Alapocas Run State Park, and finally Brandywine Park, just north of downtown Wilmington.  It was a shaded, winding, and hilly section of trails that took us through wooded areas, golf courses, and corporate centers, as well as along the very picturesque Brandywine Creek.  It was easily the most enjoyable portion of the ride.

Next, our route delivered us to downtown Wilmington.  That’s when the ride took a turn for the surreal.

Even for a Sunday, Wilmington seemed abandoned. There were almost no people.  No cars. Traffic lights turned green for empty lanes.  We freely rode down quiet streets, past empty buildings where empty cubicles housed empty office chairs.  It seemed more Ray Bradbury than real. 

And so we rode on, enjoying the lack of traffic, while simultaneously being reminded of how absolutely f-ed up the world has become since the outbreak of covid-19.

Approaching Delaware City

Route 9

Riding my bike through an oil refinery was never on my list of things to do, and yet it has afforded me such a fresh perspective on cycling that I wouldn’t otherwise have.  Basically, I learned that riding a bicycle, anywhere, is more fun than riding a bicycle through an oil refinery. Especially in 95 degree heat.

It wasn’t so much the complete lack of shade or air quality that I didn’t enjoy.  It wasn’t the glass or the partial car parts strewn all over the shoulder of the road.  It wasn’t even the flat tire I endured as a direct result of said glass and car parts.  It wasn’t the scenery, towering smoke stacks pumping out chemicals like giant hypodermic needles sending smack into the skies. No.  

I was more bothered by the 50 mile per hour speed limit.  Delaware Route 9 is supposed to be a bicycle-friendly road.  If the sign says 50, people will go 75.  So make the speed limit 25.  That way, they go 50.  

C&D Canal Trail

Let’s go to Delaware City is a phrase widely not said by anyone.  Ever.  This is very probably the reason Delaware City, a port town nestled along the banks of the Delaware River, is such a scenic, quiet, little community.  It really is one of Delaware’s hidden gems. And by hidden I mean no one really knows or gives a shit about it.

With its almost colorful and windworn clapboard storefronts along the river, Delaware City possesses a maritime charm reminiscent of colonial times, when people bought things like tonic, and men of integrity proudly wore white wigs.  

Anyway, Delaware City is where the entrance to the Chesapeake and Delaware (C&D) Canal is located, and along its banks, the C&D Canal Trail.  So, after a meditative ride along Route 9, we made our way to downtown Delaware City in search of the C&D Canal Trail.

The C&D Canal Trail totals a little over 14 miles in length.  However, for this trip, we only had to ride about half that distance to reach Lums Pond State Park, our destination for the evening. 

At this point I should probably describe the C&D Canal Trail, but if you’ve seen one picture of the trail, then you have a good idea of what the entire length looks like.  Seriously, the C&D Canal Trail is possibly the most monotonous stretch of trail I have ever ridden. Which is not a complaint. I very much enjoyed the mindlessness of it.  But in the sun and heat, the same sun-drenched view gets old quickly.

It looks like this. Bunt and Ryan. C&D Canal Trail.

Lums Pond State Park

Lums Pond State Park is conveniently located about 2 miles off of the C&D Canal Trail.  It took a little climbing to reach the park from the trail, but it was a welcomed change of pace after almost 7 flat miles of the same view along the C&D.  We arrived at our campsite and set up our tents just in time for a quick thunderstorm, which admittedly felt pretty refreshing after riding through the heat and humidity all day.  

After the rain, the temperature dropped.  We settled in for the evening, built a fire, hung out.  We talked about the ride.  We made fun of (but ultimately praised) Cory for making the trip with what was probably 100 pounds of cheap Coleman shit strapped to the back of his 20 year-old mountain bike.    

Dude is a beast.

New Blood

While Cory was no stranger to our group rides, this ride from Wilmington to Lums Pond State Park was different, as it marked Cory’s first official, overnight bikepacking trip. 

When asked about the overall experience, Cory admitted he needed better gear.  In fact, his rig was so heavy that he later revealed that a new vein had emerged on the side of his forehead.  His guess was that it was from the amount of strain he put into climbing at Alapocas Run State Park on the way back to Ryan’s. 

Never forget.

The vein that emerged on Cory’s head is unfortunate (I looked it up. It will probably never go away.  At least not without laser surgery).  Yet, Cory’s new vein will also forever remind us of how something so small can be both interesting and creepy. Just like Delaware.