Day 72 began less bright than it could have. I woke to a steady rain outside. My response, the correct one, I believe, was to roll over and sleep for another hour and a half. By the time I got out of bed, the rain had stopped. My head, though, was feeling the aftereffects of all the free booze from the night before. I still appreciate their generosity, but right now I was wishing I had gone up to my room a few drinks earlier.
The roads still showed evidence of the earlier shower. I passed under the turnpike and started looking for the entrance of the Lackawanna River Trail. It seemed like it should have been easy, but it ended up taking the maps on both my gps and phone and several minutes of poking around an industrial backlot before I found it. The only sign indicating this was the trail was a piece of paper that had been leeched of most of it's ink by the sun and the rain. There was a gate to prevent motor traffic and passing that, I found why. Almost immediately, there was an old wooden railroad truss bridge that spanned fewer than 30 feet over a sharp chasm. The bridge had clearly been out of functioning use for decades, large swaths were missing. I carefully pulled my heavy bike over the good sections and started down the crushed stone trail. I was disappointed, though, to find that the 'trail' at this point was really more of a suggestion. Part of it would have as easily been considered a stream. The earlier rain created huge puddles and left the trail soft. If I had my mountain bike and was looking for somewhere to ride to get good and muddy, I was in the right place. I grumbled as several times I had to dismount to get Penny through the mud. Then there was a portion where the path widened out to what looked like a muddy gravel parking lot. The gravel there, though, was so fine and soft that my wheels sank 3" into it. I couldn't ride through, so again, I had to dismount. Between the condition of the trail and the lingering hangover, I was now in a pretty bad mood.
I crossed a road and discovered that the spur of the trail I was on was still being constructed. The section I now began on was better groomed. Eventually, they plan to extend the Lackawanna trail 40 miles along the old railbed that follows the Lackawanna River. For now though, it is only a mile and a half of some of the worst trail I've found anywhere in the country. Again, with a different bike and for a different purpose, I may have enjoyed it, but on my fully loaded touring bike, looking mostly for relief from the traffic, I was disappointed.
I left the trail after it's second intersection and crossed the Lackawanna River. Cruising up and down hills, I passed through downtown Scranton and several residential neighborhoods. I stopped at a crowded Dunkin Donuts for coffee and a doughnut. This was the first doughnut I've had since a trip to the Doughnut Factory on Manhattan's Lower East Side the week before I left. The coffee was lousy and the doughnut wasn't a substantial enough to quell my hunger or bad mood.
Leaving Scranton, I went through the tiny suburb of Throop. I crossed US 6, a limited access interstate for this stretch, and started climbing. On one hand, there was little vehicle traffic to contend with on the road I was on. On the other hand, there were a couple consecutive long, slow climbs. At one point, I was passed by another cyclist who couldn't believe I had crossed the country, mostly because I was climbing the hill at 6 mph. It's the hangover and bad breakfast choice, really I'm faster than that.
Finally I hit the backside of that hill and sped down in the low 40's. This actually did as much to improve my mood as anything else. It's hard to stay grumpy while flying.
I hit roads where there was more traffic, but the shoulder was nice and wide. I stopped to take a lunch break at a little ice cream joint in Mt. Cobb. After I ate my real food, I meant to go back for ice cream but by then the line had gotten too long. Up the road I passed a saturday swap meet and a hardware store celebrating customer days with a huge picnic complete with an inflatable bouncy house for the kids. Right around there, I hit mile 4300 for the trip. I'm getting very close now.
I had crossed a couple minor rivers and gone along the shores of a couple lakes. Then I came to the resorty Lake Wallenpaupack. Passing it's northern end, there was a large embankment between the lake and the roadway. Several benches were set along the top of the embankment, and several families and elderly couples walked along the path. I didn't stop there, but did take a break at a point a few miles later, where a bank of grass lead up so steeply from the side of the road that I was able to lean Penny standing up against it.
The hills started to mellow out a bit, which was fine with me. Also by now the Pennsylvania Bike Route Y had connected with my route. Pennsylvania has marked bike routes crisscrossing the state. While these are not separate trails, which would be nice, it at least meant the shoulder wasn't going to suddenly narrow on me and I saw a couple more cyclists. I entered the Delaware National Forest and took took a break at the Shohola Falls Waterfowl Management Area. I didn't go into the park far enough to find the falls, but I did take a long food break and called my friend Courtney. From here I was about 12 miles away from crossing the Delaware River. While talking to Courtney, a huge thick fuzzy brown caterpillar inched along in front of me. Courtney advised me not to pick it up.
I started up again and soon found myself in Milford. It was about 6:30 and I should have stopped here for dinner. I had a choice here too, I could get onto US 6, at this point a regular four lane highway and cross into Port Jervis, NY or go a bit south and cross at state highway 209 into a rural western New Jersey. It was a couple more miles that way, but seemed the much easier route to take. I headed south.
At mile 4346.6, I stopped in the middle of the bridge to take some shots of the picturesque Delaware Water Gap. I got off the bridge and set foot in New Jersey. Never before in my life have I been so happy to be in New Jersey. For all the hundreds of different bodies of water I have crossed making my way through the country, I now had only the Hudson and East Rivers left between me and home. It was also now certain that whatever happened, I would be spending tomorrow night in my open bed for the first time since mid-April. I was giddy. My mood was the total opposite from the one I had started the day with.
Scooting up along the eastern side of the river, I stopped at a little roadside farmstand. While I was deciding between the strawberries or blueberries, a car pulled up behind me and a pair of middle aged Jersey ladies stepped out. They spoke with accents that indicated whole lives spent in New Jersey. We started talking about the quality of the food there (it all looked great) and then asked about my bike. I stood there for awhile eating the most wonderful blueberries and recounting my tale. I could barely contain my joy at having crossed the Delaware and the fact that I would be home in roughly 24 hours. I mentioned that I needed to find a place to eat, and they said that there wasn't much ahead. Well, I'll find something.
I continued northward towards Port Jervis and the New York state line. Less than a mile past the farmstand, something happened that I had been hoping for the whole way across the country, but by now had resigned myself to the fact that it probably wasn't going to. I came to a patch of road where houses were space a couple hundred yards from each other. In the yard of one of these houses, I saw a bear! A big brown bear! There was no mistaking it for a large dog, especially once it raised its head. I rolled past so the house was between me and the bear, but I had to stop and get a picture. Slowly and very quietly, I turned around and poked out from the corner of the house. The bear was a little more than 100 feet away from me, munching away at something in the garden. I do wish I had a better camera for this, but I did get a few pictures of it. At one point it looked up at me, decided I was neither food nor a threat and went back to whatever it was munching on. I saw a bear!
A few miles further up the road and I crossed into New York. This makes the only day on the trip that I've been in three different states. I was in Jersey for about 8 miles and know that coming back from Nyack to Brooklyn the next day, I'd cross another 10 miles or so of New Jersey.
Though I was now outside Port Jervis, I decided rather than spend the time to go into town to find food, I would make do with whatever I found on the road. I was now following US 6 and felt certain that I would find something. I pretty quickly came across a family restaurant, but decided to pass it up in favor of something possibly more exciting down the road. The road rewarded my choice with 10 unbroken miles of countryside. I crossed under Interstate 84 and shortly thereafter found myself in the diffuse village of Greenville. I say diffuse because the sparse buildings I saw were spread out along a couple miles of the highway. Among them, though, I found a bar and grill. Perfect.
By now I was completely ravenous and ordered accordingly. I did want to take something with me, knowing I'd be hungry again in a couple hours. I got the appetizer sampler, a large caeser salad and an eggplant parmesan sandwich. When I was done there was a little more than half of the sandwich left. The sun was now setting and I needed to get further down the road to find a place to sleep.
I knew I was coming up to Interstate 84 again and assumed I would find some motels around there. By now, not only was it dark, but a mist had risen from the ground. I didn't get the picture of the Minisink High School that I otherwise would have in daylight. Apparently I was now in the Minisink Valley, a name that amuses me greatly. I don't even know what I would call the Minisink High School team. The Faucets?
I came into New Hampton and found a motel. I went into the office to see what they charged for a night, and was given a quote about $30 higher than I expected. There was a another, nationally branded motel a bit up the road. They wanted $100 for the night. I looked on my phone and found every other motel within 12 miles of me. The cheapest quote I got was $80. I turned back and went to the first place I had stopped in. It was quite a bit more than I wanted to spend, but it was too late to try to find someplace to camp.
I had trouble falling asleep because I was so excited. I knew that every hour I stayed up was putting me that much further from home, but I still couldn't fall asleep until well after 2:00.
Day 72, Old Forge, PA - New Hampton, NY
86.9 miles in 7:30:29 for 4371.6 in 333:45:07 and a top speed of 43.7mph
Showing posts with label Pennsylvania. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pennsylvania. Show all posts
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
Mile 4284.7 - Getting closer
Today starts week 11 since I left San Francisco and I knew I was going to have a couple delays. Now looking at the rear tire that had gone flat yesterday, I had to replace it. I was really hoping that the pair would last until I got back to New York, but I just couldn't risk crossing the Appalachians on tires that were cracked and ripping apart.
I loaded Penny outside under the silent yet watchful gaze of a young woman seated outside her room smoking a cigarette. There is no way she didn't have some kind of question for me, but she never asked it. I went through Montgomery and crossed the Susquehanna yet another time. Just across the river is Muncy, where I knew there was a bike shop. The question is whether it would have what I needed or if I would have to try to make it 60 miles to Wilkes-Barre and find something there. I pulled up to Monty's bikes and was relieved to see the logos for Trek and Bontrager in the front windows. I wheeled her into the shop and walked her past a double row of her cousins. They didn't have a 520 in stock, but all sorts of other Treks, including a ridiculously light madone for only $6800. It turns out that they did have the tires I was looking for in the size I wanted because someone had bought a new bike with them on and had switched them out for something knobbier. The tires were new but not in factory packaging, so they gave me $10 off the pair. That works for me. I also had my rear breaks replaced. These had lasted all the way from San Rafael, CA and I probably could have pushed them all the way to New York, but why risk it?
Talking with the guys at the bike shop, I asked about routes heading east (the one I had planned was as good as any) and a place to get lunch. They recommended the Original Italian Pizza (or OIP) joint a couple blocks away. I ordered enough to leave with leftovers. The garlic bread I had as an appetizer was some of the best garlic bread I have ever had. The buffalo chicken pizza, though, was almost inedible. I ate most of one slice then had the rest wrapped up. I never did end up eating the rest of that, several hours spent in a hot vinyl pannier made it just smell worse. Oh well.
Finally, well after noon, I was ready to get going. I had traveled about 10 miles so far, so had about 80 miles to go to get to Scranton. Between here and there lie several of the Appalachian Mountains. Though the range continues several hundred miles north and almost a thousand miles further south, this was a relatively narrow place to cross them. This part of the range doesn't contain the really tall mountains of North Carolina and Tennessee, nor the rugged well-mined cliffs of West Virginia. It does, however, provide ample slopes to climb.
The hills were really the story today. While none of them were as dramatic as White Deer Ridge that I crossed yesterday, there was plenty of up and down. I crossed rivers and passed lakes. The heat of the day rose, but again, thankfully, I was shaded for most of the day. I took a quick break at Ricketts Glen State Park, though I never strayed beyond sight of the road. There are several mountain biking/atv trails in the area, perhaps one day I'll return to explore these more.
As I got into the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre metro area, the traffic started to build. I stopped for my afternoon ice cream break in Trucksville. There are few better justifications for eating ice cream every day than riding 80+ miles through the mountains. I came into Wyoming, PA, the fourth state or town I've been through with that name (MN, OH, PA and WY. I did not hit Wyoming, WI or IL). They were building a new bridge over the Susquehanna so I took a few pictures of the new construction while crossing over the old one. This was the fifth and final crossing of the Susquehanna. While this by itself is quite exciting, more exciting was that the next major river to cross is the Delaware. Across the Delaware is New Jersey. The next rivers after that are the Hudson and the East River. Crossing the East River gets me into Brooklyn and only a couple miles from home. But I am getting ahead of myself and still have about 48 hours until I get to that point.
It was getting later in the day and I had now gone far enough that I felt ok stopping somewhere for the night. On my phone, I found a number of motels clustered by the turnpike a few miles ahead. I was also looking for a place to grab dinner, preferably one in which I could have a couple beers as well. What I found was all three. In Old Forge, I saw Julia's Old Forge Inn. This was a real inn in the classic sense that you get a room, but the thing to do was hang out at the bar. There was no one in the room marked office, so I went around to the bar to inquire about the room. The owner saw the helmet in my hand and asked if I biked here. I told him the situation and that I needed a room for the night. He gave me a good deal, just $30 for the night. The rooms were all up on the second floor, so I had to unload Penny and take multiple trips up the stairs. As I did this, there were a number of patrons sitting outside smoking. They asked about my trip and as I explained that I was going across the country and was now just two days from home, one offered to buy me a beer.
I got everything up, took a quick shower, then went down to the bar. I sat at the bar for about three hours. As I was telling one person about my trip, others would overhear and become interested. In this way, I had 6 beers and three shots and paid for just one beer. I love generous people. It was nice to talk to a bunch of different people about a range of topics. I finally stumbled back upstairs and crashed into bed. One more night left on the road and then the next night would be spent in my bed.
Day 71, White Deer Motel, 3 mi east of Montgomery, PA - Old Forge, PA
82.3 miles in 7:45:17 for totals of 4284.7 miles in 326:14:38 and a top speed of 41.0mph
I loaded Penny outside under the silent yet watchful gaze of a young woman seated outside her room smoking a cigarette. There is no way she didn't have some kind of question for me, but she never asked it. I went through Montgomery and crossed the Susquehanna yet another time. Just across the river is Muncy, where I knew there was a bike shop. The question is whether it would have what I needed or if I would have to try to make it 60 miles to Wilkes-Barre and find something there. I pulled up to Monty's bikes and was relieved to see the logos for Trek and Bontrager in the front windows. I wheeled her into the shop and walked her past a double row of her cousins. They didn't have a 520 in stock, but all sorts of other Treks, including a ridiculously light madone for only $6800. It turns out that they did have the tires I was looking for in the size I wanted because someone had bought a new bike with them on and had switched them out for something knobbier. The tires were new but not in factory packaging, so they gave me $10 off the pair. That works for me. I also had my rear breaks replaced. These had lasted all the way from San Rafael, CA and I probably could have pushed them all the way to New York, but why risk it?
Talking with the guys at the bike shop, I asked about routes heading east (the one I had planned was as good as any) and a place to get lunch. They recommended the Original Italian Pizza (or OIP) joint a couple blocks away. I ordered enough to leave with leftovers. The garlic bread I had as an appetizer was some of the best garlic bread I have ever had. The buffalo chicken pizza, though, was almost inedible. I ate most of one slice then had the rest wrapped up. I never did end up eating the rest of that, several hours spent in a hot vinyl pannier made it just smell worse. Oh well.
Finally, well after noon, I was ready to get going. I had traveled about 10 miles so far, so had about 80 miles to go to get to Scranton. Between here and there lie several of the Appalachian Mountains. Though the range continues several hundred miles north and almost a thousand miles further south, this was a relatively narrow place to cross them. This part of the range doesn't contain the really tall mountains of North Carolina and Tennessee, nor the rugged well-mined cliffs of West Virginia. It does, however, provide ample slopes to climb.
The hills were really the story today. While none of them were as dramatic as White Deer Ridge that I crossed yesterday, there was plenty of up and down. I crossed rivers and passed lakes. The heat of the day rose, but again, thankfully, I was shaded for most of the day. I took a quick break at Ricketts Glen State Park, though I never strayed beyond sight of the road. There are several mountain biking/atv trails in the area, perhaps one day I'll return to explore these more.
As I got into the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre metro area, the traffic started to build. I stopped for my afternoon ice cream break in Trucksville. There are few better justifications for eating ice cream every day than riding 80+ miles through the mountains. I came into Wyoming, PA, the fourth state or town I've been through with that name (MN, OH, PA and WY. I did not hit Wyoming, WI or IL). They were building a new bridge over the Susquehanna so I took a few pictures of the new construction while crossing over the old one. This was the fifth and final crossing of the Susquehanna. While this by itself is quite exciting, more exciting was that the next major river to cross is the Delaware. Across the Delaware is New Jersey. The next rivers after that are the Hudson and the East River. Crossing the East River gets me into Brooklyn and only a couple miles from home. But I am getting ahead of myself and still have about 48 hours until I get to that point.
It was getting later in the day and I had now gone far enough that I felt ok stopping somewhere for the night. On my phone, I found a number of motels clustered by the turnpike a few miles ahead. I was also looking for a place to grab dinner, preferably one in which I could have a couple beers as well. What I found was all three. In Old Forge, I saw Julia's Old Forge Inn. This was a real inn in the classic sense that you get a room, but the thing to do was hang out at the bar. There was no one in the room marked office, so I went around to the bar to inquire about the room. The owner saw the helmet in my hand and asked if I biked here. I told him the situation and that I needed a room for the night. He gave me a good deal, just $30 for the night. The rooms were all up on the second floor, so I had to unload Penny and take multiple trips up the stairs. As I did this, there were a number of patrons sitting outside smoking. They asked about my trip and as I explained that I was going across the country and was now just two days from home, one offered to buy me a beer.
I got everything up, took a quick shower, then went down to the bar. I sat at the bar for about three hours. As I was telling one person about my trip, others would overhear and become interested. In this way, I had 6 beers and three shots and paid for just one beer. I love generous people. It was nice to talk to a bunch of different people about a range of topics. I finally stumbled back upstairs and crashed into bed. One more night left on the road and then the next night would be spent in my bed.
Day 71, White Deer Motel, 3 mi east of Montgomery, PA - Old Forge, PA
82.3 miles in 7:45:17 for totals of 4284.7 miles in 326:14:38 and a top speed of 41.0mph
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Mile 4207.4 - Free water in central PA
The morning started with a faster than usual breaking of camp. Because I didn't have anyone's authorization to camp where I was, I wanted to get out before anyone noticed I was there. That happened well enough and I continued along the road as it followed the Sinnemahoning River. At first there was a comparatively long stretch of nothing, which was just fine with me. The shoulder wasn't always the most robust as it wound around with the river.
The towns shown on the map were suggestions of towns, clumps of houses along the river with maybe a hardware store. Then I hit a mile long patch of road construction. The flagger waved me through at the head of a long line of cars. While the fresh road surface was nice, it was long enough that I couldn't keep up with the traffic. Before I hit the end, the oncoming traffic was coming my way. Most of it was fine, since I was as far over on the pavement as I could be, but there was one gravel truck that forced me onto the grit off the shoulder. Bastard.
This was coming into Renovo, the biggest town I'd been through since St Marys. I asked the flagger at the end of the construction where in town to get breakfast and she told me the only place to go was Yesterday's, a hotel and restaurant a few blocks ahead. The dining room had a 50's diner feel and Elvis and Roy Orbison crooned out of the speakers. I sat in the corner where I could plug in the phone and ate my eggs and potatoes while listening to a discussion of the weekend's high school track meet. At one point their discussion changed to the weather. A larger man a bit older than me said he was doing yard work in his mother's yard and by 3:00 it was so hot 'I went and dove in the crick'. I wanted to pipe up and say that all I did was ride 110 miles yesterday and didn't think it was too hot at all. Then again, I'm sure a dive in the crick would have felt good.
After breakfast I stopped for water at a service station in town that didn't have a nationally branded sign over it. The old man behind the counter asked how far I was riding today. I told him today I wanted to get close to Williamsport, but I was headed to New York. His eyes widened with the thought of riding a bicycle to New York, then I told him I had started in San Francisco, so I was almost home. He got really excited and started asking questions. He told me that he was really impressed with someone following a dream like that. He waved away the couple dollars in my hand that I had held for the last several minutes trying to pay for the water. 'I can't charge you for water' he told me, then he grabbed one of the local papers off the stack and opened the first page. He found the paper's phone number and called them up. 'Yeah, this is Gene at the gas station...' he started. After relaying the story to the editor, he gave me directions to their office, just a click down the road. He shook my hand and again told me how impressed he was with me. On my out the door, another customer was coming in. 'There goes a real man', he told him. That made me proud.
I followed the directions I was given (basically go straight until I get there), and stopped in at the office of the Clinton County Record. Barbara, the editor, interviewed me for about 10 minutes and offered to fill my 1/3rd full gallon from the water cooler. Sure! That was nice. We stepped outside for a few photos with Penny and I gave them my address to send me a copy. As of writing this a couple weeks later, I still have not received my copy and the paper has only the weakest of websites.
It was now about 11:00 and I had gone about 25 miles despite the early start. I cranked it up a notch and covered some miles pretty quickly. I stopped for a quick break at rest area between the road and the river. By now the Sinnemahoning had met up with the Young Woman River to form the Susquehanna. There was a truck in the lot, a boy in his mid teens was walking a tiny puppy while the parents were fussing with something in the back of the truck. The father saw me and asked if I wanted any water. The gallon I had refilled was down more than a quart already and had completely lost the coolness it enjoyed while still in the water cooler in the office. I told him I was ok, though, that I had refilled in town. He said that they had a gallon that was unopened in a cooler, so it was still cold. Cold was the magic word. I took it from them and chatted a little about the road ahead. I refilled my bottles from the cold gallon, then strapped both of them to the rack. I had never had the double barrel extra gallons before, but it was now hot, so I didn't mind the extra weight.
It was around 2:30 by the time I got into Lock Haven and I needed a break with food. I made the tour's only stop at a Subway and got a sandwich, eating in the AC while reviewing the route ahead of me. There was a bank clock across the street that said the air temp was 102. I dive in the crick sounded pretty good. Leaving Lock Haven, I crossed the Susquehanna and rode within hearing of the interstate. I stopped at a gas station in Avis for gatorade. By now the free cold gallon was gone and the original gallon I had refilled in Renovo was the temperature of hot tea left to cool for a while. It was not refreshing. Outside, a man walked up to me and asked where I was going with all the pack. I explained and he got really excited about what I was doing. I mentioned that I wanted to see small towns do more for pedestrians and cyclists. He agreed and said he lived about a mile away, but thought it was ridiculous to drive that short a distance. Clearly, we think alike.
In Jersey Shore, I found the end of a nice looking bike trail. I was on it for all of a couple hundred yards before it ended in a parking lot. Riding through downtown, it was clear they were setting up a parade. I imagined that the parade was for me and wondered what the people who actually were in it did to be in a parade instead of me. I crossed the Susquehanna for a third time. After a couple initial hills, the land on this vast central island between the Susquehanna and White Deer Rivers became flat. I passed through Oval and into the town of Collumsville. In Collumsville, I could see a problem ahead. I knew the road continued east, yet to my east I saw a looming hill. as I got closer , I could see where the road curved to take the low space between a couple butts of hills, but then climbed into the trees and out of sight.
The climb started at 850' with a curve into the trees. I cranked my way up in a pretty high gear. At 1335', the road started dipping again, and I was feeling pretty good. I had kept up a 8mph pace on a pretty long steep hill. The road now dropped to 1225' and started climbing a bit again. Stopped at a gravel sideroad was a man in a white truck. He asked me if I wanted a ride to the top of the hill. No, I thanked him, I'll make it up. But that was a bad portent. Top of the hill? I just climbed almost 500' over about a mile and a half, how much more up was there. This was the question that the hill was quite willing to answer at length. I crossed 1334' again and kept going up. 1461'. 1581'. Still more up I passed 1740' and there was a curve that looked like it would be the top. It was just a turn around to a slightly steeper climb. 1891' and I saw a turnout at the curve up ahead of me. I got up to the top and pulled off into the wide clearing. The view was fantastic, row after row of blue-grey hills rolling off to the horizon. I had unwisely unclipped both feet to take a better picture. This made it harder to start up again for the last 50' push to the top. I made the top and was drifting forward slowly to take a picture. I had made it to the top of the North White Deer Ridge, at 1924'.
Suddenly, the wheels beneath me started turning of their own accord. I shoved the camera back into a jersey pocket and shifted down into my lowest gear. Without pedaling yet at all I was going 38mph, so I started to crank into it a bit. Once I got up to 45mph, I stopped and let gravity take me down for a while. Gravity did, increasing my speed up to 46.4 mph. Then I just hung on and steered down and around the curves. There was a car that hung out behind me for over a mile because I was going too fast for it to pass me. I got down to the bottom exhilarated. Sure the climb had been long and pretty hard, but I got up it with only the rest at the top. The ride down was almost as exciting as the Wind River Mountains back in Wyoming. Within three miles of the summit, I was back down to 685'. There's no way to do that but fast.
The sun was setting behind the mountain I had just crossed. I wanted to cross the Susquehanna one last time and stay at a motel in Muncy. I shortly got to where US 15 crossed the highway I was on and stopped at the gas station at the intersection for gatorade and water for the morning. About 7 miles up the road north of me in Willimsport was the Little League Headquarters and the fields where they play the Little League World Series. I asked where the motels around were, and the attendant suggested I go south to the motel just down 15 instead of trying to make Muncy. This sounded reasonable as the light was quickly fading and the motels down the road were a mile away, as opposed to 5 or 6 to get to Muncy. She stepped out with me for a cigarette while I filled my bottles. We talked about the hill I had just come down and she told me about all the crashes on that hill in the winter. 'People take it like it's a day like this, but there's a solid inch of ice on the road' she explained. No winter goes by without at least one fatal crash on the road, though often it is a car going off the road into the trees. After a few minutes, I thanked her, then rolled my bike off the 6" raised sidewalk. The back tire hit the pavement with a pop. It was flat. Flat flat flat. The first flat, in fact, that I had gotten since Stagecoach, NV. I had ridden across 9 states since then and since Stagecoach is in western NV, almost 10.
The tire was a mess. I think the major problem started with the soft, sticky pitch on the road in President. In addition to several cracks in the tire, there was now a dime sized flap that was hanging on for dear life. I would need to address that soon. I inflated the tube to check it, and immediately I heard the hiss of a leak. That's ok, I had been carrying 6 tubes since Carson City, so it wasn't worth my time to try to patch it. I had gotten the new tube on and started inflating it when a man walked over to me talking about flat tires. He was fueling up a motorcycle, and said that when he was closer to my age he rode a bike all the time. I got the tire back on and repacked the bike while telling him about my trip. By now it was dark. I started up the hill towards the motels. There were two of them a couple hundred yards apart. I rang the bell at the first one and got no answer. I rode up to the second one and roused the owner with my ring. I got the last room he had to let.
I took a shower and set up my camp stove outside for a hot meal. I hadn't had anything hot since breakfast, so I used up my remaining freeze-dried hiker's dinner. I boiled a couple cups of the still warm water for it and while I was waiting for it to rehydrate, called Emily. It had been a day of ups and downs and I was still on schedule to get home Sunday night.
Day 70, Sinnemahoning Camp - White Deer Motel, East of Montgomery, PA
88.7 miles today in 7:13:41. Now a total of 4207.4 miles in 319:29:21 and a east of the Mississippi high speed of 46.4mph
The towns shown on the map were suggestions of towns, clumps of houses along the river with maybe a hardware store. Then I hit a mile long patch of road construction. The flagger waved me through at the head of a long line of cars. While the fresh road surface was nice, it was long enough that I couldn't keep up with the traffic. Before I hit the end, the oncoming traffic was coming my way. Most of it was fine, since I was as far over on the pavement as I could be, but there was one gravel truck that forced me onto the grit off the shoulder. Bastard.
This was coming into Renovo, the biggest town I'd been through since St Marys. I asked the flagger at the end of the construction where in town to get breakfast and she told me the only place to go was Yesterday's, a hotel and restaurant a few blocks ahead. The dining room had a 50's diner feel and Elvis and Roy Orbison crooned out of the speakers. I sat in the corner where I could plug in the phone and ate my eggs and potatoes while listening to a discussion of the weekend's high school track meet. At one point their discussion changed to the weather. A larger man a bit older than me said he was doing yard work in his mother's yard and by 3:00 it was so hot 'I went and dove in the crick'. I wanted to pipe up and say that all I did was ride 110 miles yesterday and didn't think it was too hot at all. Then again, I'm sure a dive in the crick would have felt good.
After breakfast I stopped for water at a service station in town that didn't have a nationally branded sign over it. The old man behind the counter asked how far I was riding today. I told him today I wanted to get close to Williamsport, but I was headed to New York. His eyes widened with the thought of riding a bicycle to New York, then I told him I had started in San Francisco, so I was almost home. He got really excited and started asking questions. He told me that he was really impressed with someone following a dream like that. He waved away the couple dollars in my hand that I had held for the last several minutes trying to pay for the water. 'I can't charge you for water' he told me, then he grabbed one of the local papers off the stack and opened the first page. He found the paper's phone number and called them up. 'Yeah, this is Gene at the gas station...' he started. After relaying the story to the editor, he gave me directions to their office, just a click down the road. He shook my hand and again told me how impressed he was with me. On my out the door, another customer was coming in. 'There goes a real man', he told him. That made me proud.
I followed the directions I was given (basically go straight until I get there), and stopped in at the office of the Clinton County Record. Barbara, the editor, interviewed me for about 10 minutes and offered to fill my 1/3rd full gallon from the water cooler. Sure! That was nice. We stepped outside for a few photos with Penny and I gave them my address to send me a copy. As of writing this a couple weeks later, I still have not received my copy and the paper has only the weakest of websites.
It was now about 11:00 and I had gone about 25 miles despite the early start. I cranked it up a notch and covered some miles pretty quickly. I stopped for a quick break at rest area between the road and the river. By now the Sinnemahoning had met up with the Young Woman River to form the Susquehanna. There was a truck in the lot, a boy in his mid teens was walking a tiny puppy while the parents were fussing with something in the back of the truck. The father saw me and asked if I wanted any water. The gallon I had refilled was down more than a quart already and had completely lost the coolness it enjoyed while still in the water cooler in the office. I told him I was ok, though, that I had refilled in town. He said that they had a gallon that was unopened in a cooler, so it was still cold. Cold was the magic word. I took it from them and chatted a little about the road ahead. I refilled my bottles from the cold gallon, then strapped both of them to the rack. I had never had the double barrel extra gallons before, but it was now hot, so I didn't mind the extra weight.
It was around 2:30 by the time I got into Lock Haven and I needed a break with food. I made the tour's only stop at a Subway and got a sandwich, eating in the AC while reviewing the route ahead of me. There was a bank clock across the street that said the air temp was 102. I dive in the crick sounded pretty good. Leaving Lock Haven, I crossed the Susquehanna and rode within hearing of the interstate. I stopped at a gas station in Avis for gatorade. By now the free cold gallon was gone and the original gallon I had refilled in Renovo was the temperature of hot tea left to cool for a while. It was not refreshing. Outside, a man walked up to me and asked where I was going with all the pack. I explained and he got really excited about what I was doing. I mentioned that I wanted to see small towns do more for pedestrians and cyclists. He agreed and said he lived about a mile away, but thought it was ridiculous to drive that short a distance. Clearly, we think alike.
In Jersey Shore, I found the end of a nice looking bike trail. I was on it for all of a couple hundred yards before it ended in a parking lot. Riding through downtown, it was clear they were setting up a parade. I imagined that the parade was for me and wondered what the people who actually were in it did to be in a parade instead of me. I crossed the Susquehanna for a third time. After a couple initial hills, the land on this vast central island between the Susquehanna and White Deer Rivers became flat. I passed through Oval and into the town of Collumsville. In Collumsville, I could see a problem ahead. I knew the road continued east, yet to my east I saw a looming hill. as I got closer , I could see where the road curved to take the low space between a couple butts of hills, but then climbed into the trees and out of sight.
The climb started at 850' with a curve into the trees. I cranked my way up in a pretty high gear. At 1335', the road started dipping again, and I was feeling pretty good. I had kept up a 8mph pace on a pretty long steep hill. The road now dropped to 1225' and started climbing a bit again. Stopped at a gravel sideroad was a man in a white truck. He asked me if I wanted a ride to the top of the hill. No, I thanked him, I'll make it up. But that was a bad portent. Top of the hill? I just climbed almost 500' over about a mile and a half, how much more up was there. This was the question that the hill was quite willing to answer at length. I crossed 1334' again and kept going up. 1461'. 1581'. Still more up I passed 1740' and there was a curve that looked like it would be the top. It was just a turn around to a slightly steeper climb. 1891' and I saw a turnout at the curve up ahead of me. I got up to the top and pulled off into the wide clearing. The view was fantastic, row after row of blue-grey hills rolling off to the horizon. I had unwisely unclipped both feet to take a better picture. This made it harder to start up again for the last 50' push to the top. I made the top and was drifting forward slowly to take a picture. I had made it to the top of the North White Deer Ridge, at 1924'.
Suddenly, the wheels beneath me started turning of their own accord. I shoved the camera back into a jersey pocket and shifted down into my lowest gear. Without pedaling yet at all I was going 38mph, so I started to crank into it a bit. Once I got up to 45mph, I stopped and let gravity take me down for a while. Gravity did, increasing my speed up to 46.4 mph. Then I just hung on and steered down and around the curves. There was a car that hung out behind me for over a mile because I was going too fast for it to pass me. I got down to the bottom exhilarated. Sure the climb had been long and pretty hard, but I got up it with only the rest at the top. The ride down was almost as exciting as the Wind River Mountains back in Wyoming. Within three miles of the summit, I was back down to 685'. There's no way to do that but fast.
The sun was setting behind the mountain I had just crossed. I wanted to cross the Susquehanna one last time and stay at a motel in Muncy. I shortly got to where US 15 crossed the highway I was on and stopped at the gas station at the intersection for gatorade and water for the morning. About 7 miles up the road north of me in Willimsport was the Little League Headquarters and the fields where they play the Little League World Series. I asked where the motels around were, and the attendant suggested I go south to the motel just down 15 instead of trying to make Muncy. This sounded reasonable as the light was quickly fading and the motels down the road were a mile away, as opposed to 5 or 6 to get to Muncy. She stepped out with me for a cigarette while I filled my bottles. We talked about the hill I had just come down and she told me about all the crashes on that hill in the winter. 'People take it like it's a day like this, but there's a solid inch of ice on the road' she explained. No winter goes by without at least one fatal crash on the road, though often it is a car going off the road into the trees. After a few minutes, I thanked her, then rolled my bike off the 6" raised sidewalk. The back tire hit the pavement with a pop. It was flat. Flat flat flat. The first flat, in fact, that I had gotten since Stagecoach, NV. I had ridden across 9 states since then and since Stagecoach is in western NV, almost 10.
The tire was a mess. I think the major problem started with the soft, sticky pitch on the road in President. In addition to several cracks in the tire, there was now a dime sized flap that was hanging on for dear life. I would need to address that soon. I inflated the tube to check it, and immediately I heard the hiss of a leak. That's ok, I had been carrying 6 tubes since Carson City, so it wasn't worth my time to try to patch it. I had gotten the new tube on and started inflating it when a man walked over to me talking about flat tires. He was fueling up a motorcycle, and said that when he was closer to my age he rode a bike all the time. I got the tire back on and repacked the bike while telling him about my trip. By now it was dark. I started up the hill towards the motels. There were two of them a couple hundred yards apart. I rang the bell at the first one and got no answer. I rode up to the second one and roused the owner with my ring. I got the last room he had to let.
I took a shower and set up my camp stove outside for a hot meal. I hadn't had anything hot since breakfast, so I used up my remaining freeze-dried hiker's dinner. I boiled a couple cups of the still warm water for it and while I was waiting for it to rehydrate, called Emily. It had been a day of ups and downs and I was still on schedule to get home Sunday night.
Day 70, Sinnemahoning Camp - White Deer Motel, East of Montgomery, PA
88.7 miles today in 7:13:41. Now a total of 4207.4 miles in 319:29:21 and a east of the Mississippi high speed of 46.4mph
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Mile 4118.7 - Getting close
Today is day 69 and I woke up knowing that there were not many days left ahead of me. What I expected in front of me was terrain and heat, but not for very much longer. The straight lines of eastern Ohio were a distant memory in this land of curves and angles. At least I was going through forests and there were plenty of trees.
Looking at the map for places to camp, I found one that looked most inviting, in the town of Sinnemahoning. It was a little over 100 miles away, but if I could do that, I would leave 350 miles left or about 85 miles split over four days. I needed to start early if I wanted that to happen.
A fog hung over the valley, keeping visibility under 1/4 mile. The day's ride started with a 2 mile 7% climb. I know that's what it was because the sign said so. Then I got a nice fast downhill, made all the more adventurous by the curves in the fog. Woo hoo. The mist made it clammy and damp though, and there were a couple of times when I considered pulling out the windbreaker. I laughed about the thought of putting on a jacket later in the afternoon, but I was a bit cold now.
I wound around several hills and came into the town of Leeper. About half a mile before town, I was overtaken on a climb by four motorcycles carrying 6 people. At the major intersection, I stopped at a breakfast joint called the Sawmill Restaurant. In the lot the six people were dismounting their four motorbikes and I smiled and said good morning as I pulled in. No response. Ok, whatever. In the Sawmill you go to the counter to order and then they bring the food. I wanted to grab the tiny booth for two next to the window, but the line of motorcyclists was blocking it. I set my helmet with my shades, gloves and gps down on the booth for four next to the door where I could see anyone approaching Penny, but not the bike herself. I worked my way through the groggy and grumpy group to the counter to grab a menu then resumed my spot at the end of the line. It took a while to cycle through them all, but finally there was no one in front of me. This was technically my second breakfast of the day, I had nibbled while breaking camp, but I was hungry from the climbing already. I gave my order to the cheerful woman at the counter and turn around to find that someone had moved my helmet. The motorbikers occupied three booths for two in an L, with the table in the middle the one I had left my stuff on. I looked over at them and none of them would make eye contact with me. Seriously? Not Cool. How hard is it to say 'hey dude can we have this table?' or even just inform me that you want to move my stuff. The table they had set it on was five feet behind me, I was right there! But at that point the little booth by the window was open, so I was probably going to move there anyway. I ate my enormous breakfast and got back on the road.
From Leeper the trail turned northeast and headlong into the Allegheny National Forest. The last of the fog was still lingering under trees, the last hiding place from the sun. At least the damp chill was gone from the air. It wasn't warm yet, but I didn't want my windbreaker. The road climbed up and down a couple long, dramatic curves, but rarely did the trees open up to afford a view of the surrounding landscape. The glimpses I got were pretty, and I can only imagine what this place looks like come fall. I had passed a number of small towns and took another break in the quaintly named Pigeon. I like pigeons well enough, I just don't think I would name my town after one. I had gone 20 miles since Leeper but for all the up and down I was doing, hadn't even gained 20 feet of altitude, from Leeper's height of 1814' to Pigeon's 1832'. There were several hundred feet of climb and drop, believe me. At least it was shaded.
The road climbs more sharply north after De Young, but I slanted back to the southeast. I took another longish break on a bench in front of the courthouse in Ridgeway. As I sat there a boy of maybe 7 or 8 walked by with his mother, his eyes fixed on Penny. As he passed me, all he could manage was 'wow'. I laughed.
By now I was coming out of the Allegheny Forest and the trees backed off from the road a bit. This was somewhat unfortunate, as it was now getting into the afternoon and the sun wanted it hot. What the sun wants, it generally gets, big gasball that it is. Several sharp hills and 11 miles past Ridgeway I was in St. Marys. I had descended more than climbed, I was now down at 1667', but by the time I got to St. Mary's I needed a break again. I found a gas station/cafe at the top of the hill in downtown and ate a sandwich on one of the tables outside. Penny was propped up against the short fence separating the parking lot from the tables. A couple high school boys pulled up in their car and took the table next to me. They asked about how much weight I was pulling and I invited them to try to pick Penny up. As usual, they declined.
The route turned more east with just a hint of north and took me into the town of Emporium. Just like Cornucopia, WI, I would call the high school sports team the Emporium Everythings. Somewhere in there I feel like I moved from western Pennsylvania into the central part of the state. Not that that made the hills easier, but home was just that bit closer. I turned right and started on PA 120, which follows the Sinnemahoning River until it flows into the Susquehanna. The Sinnemahoning Valley is beautiful. The river is pretty shallow but so old that it has carved itself quite a valley. It is one of the longer east-west valleys in the state, most rivers follow the northeast-southwest slant with the mountains.
Along here I saw something that I had noticed a couple times before, in Indiana and Ohio. I was passed by a truck sporting the Confederate Flag. I just don't understand this. My southern friends may have a different view, but I see the stars and bars as a symbol of hate and bigotry. Even if it symbolized something different 130 years ago, that is what it is today. Why someone in Pennsylvania would have one, other than as a sign of small-mindedness, is beyond me. I mean, the Confederacy lost in large part because of the people and resources of the state of Pennsylvania.
From Emporium it's a little over 20 miles to the village of Sinnemahoning. It was comparatively easy as most of the climbs were around the shoulders of hills as they came down to the river and not over the hill itself. Generally though, the road stayed just above the water with a bulk of blasted rock on its north shoulder. When the road did rise, it generally allowed for a great view of the valley and surrounding hills. There was a cop checking speed at one pull off. I rode by him then 5 miles down the road he passed me. I found him again a couple miles further along, checking speeds from a pull off on the other side of the road. I waved at him again.
By now the sun was behind the hills. I rounded a few last curves and finally a descent into Sinnemahoning. I didn't see any signs for a campground, just a trail, so I stopped to ask a local where I could pitch a tent. I gestured at the yard we were standing in front. 'They're gone for a couple days, you could right here.' I said I thought there was a campground around here and he told me there was a place across the stone bridge (not the steel bridge). I thanked him and rode out there.
The sun had now firmly set and I pulled into the driveway of a cluster of cabins. There was a house identified as the office, and I was immediately greeted by the very loud yappy small dog in the yard. I rang the bell a couple times, but got now answer. I tried. I walked around behind the cabins, out of sight of both the house and the road, and pitched my tent there. I had made it well over 100 miles in the heat and I just wanted to rest.
Day 69 Tionesta, PA - Sinnemahoning, PA
110.45 miles in 8:49:55 for 4118.7 in 312:15:40 and a high speed of 38.4
Looking at the map for places to camp, I found one that looked most inviting, in the town of Sinnemahoning. It was a little over 100 miles away, but if I could do that, I would leave 350 miles left or about 85 miles split over four days. I needed to start early if I wanted that to happen.
A fog hung over the valley, keeping visibility under 1/4 mile. The day's ride started with a 2 mile 7% climb. I know that's what it was because the sign said so. Then I got a nice fast downhill, made all the more adventurous by the curves in the fog. Woo hoo. The mist made it clammy and damp though, and there were a couple of times when I considered pulling out the windbreaker. I laughed about the thought of putting on a jacket later in the afternoon, but I was a bit cold now.
I wound around several hills and came into the town of Leeper. About half a mile before town, I was overtaken on a climb by four motorcycles carrying 6 people. At the major intersection, I stopped at a breakfast joint called the Sawmill Restaurant. In the lot the six people were dismounting their four motorbikes and I smiled and said good morning as I pulled in. No response. Ok, whatever. In the Sawmill you go to the counter to order and then they bring the food. I wanted to grab the tiny booth for two next to the window, but the line of motorcyclists was blocking it. I set my helmet with my shades, gloves and gps down on the booth for four next to the door where I could see anyone approaching Penny, but not the bike herself. I worked my way through the groggy and grumpy group to the counter to grab a menu then resumed my spot at the end of the line. It took a while to cycle through them all, but finally there was no one in front of me. This was technically my second breakfast of the day, I had nibbled while breaking camp, but I was hungry from the climbing already. I gave my order to the cheerful woman at the counter and turn around to find that someone had moved my helmet. The motorbikers occupied three booths for two in an L, with the table in the middle the one I had left my stuff on. I looked over at them and none of them would make eye contact with me. Seriously? Not Cool. How hard is it to say 'hey dude can we have this table?' or even just inform me that you want to move my stuff. The table they had set it on was five feet behind me, I was right there! But at that point the little booth by the window was open, so I was probably going to move there anyway. I ate my enormous breakfast and got back on the road.
From Leeper the trail turned northeast and headlong into the Allegheny National Forest. The last of the fog was still lingering under trees, the last hiding place from the sun. At least the damp chill was gone from the air. It wasn't warm yet, but I didn't want my windbreaker. The road climbed up and down a couple long, dramatic curves, but rarely did the trees open up to afford a view of the surrounding landscape. The glimpses I got were pretty, and I can only imagine what this place looks like come fall. I had passed a number of small towns and took another break in the quaintly named Pigeon. I like pigeons well enough, I just don't think I would name my town after one. I had gone 20 miles since Leeper but for all the up and down I was doing, hadn't even gained 20 feet of altitude, from Leeper's height of 1814' to Pigeon's 1832'. There were several hundred feet of climb and drop, believe me. At least it was shaded.
The road climbs more sharply north after De Young, but I slanted back to the southeast. I took another longish break on a bench in front of the courthouse in Ridgeway. As I sat there a boy of maybe 7 or 8 walked by with his mother, his eyes fixed on Penny. As he passed me, all he could manage was 'wow'. I laughed.
By now I was coming out of the Allegheny Forest and the trees backed off from the road a bit. This was somewhat unfortunate, as it was now getting into the afternoon and the sun wanted it hot. What the sun wants, it generally gets, big gasball that it is. Several sharp hills and 11 miles past Ridgeway I was in St. Marys. I had descended more than climbed, I was now down at 1667', but by the time I got to St. Mary's I needed a break again. I found a gas station/cafe at the top of the hill in downtown and ate a sandwich on one of the tables outside. Penny was propped up against the short fence separating the parking lot from the tables. A couple high school boys pulled up in their car and took the table next to me. They asked about how much weight I was pulling and I invited them to try to pick Penny up. As usual, they declined.
The route turned more east with just a hint of north and took me into the town of Emporium. Just like Cornucopia, WI, I would call the high school sports team the Emporium Everythings. Somewhere in there I feel like I moved from western Pennsylvania into the central part of the state. Not that that made the hills easier, but home was just that bit closer. I turned right and started on PA 120, which follows the Sinnemahoning River until it flows into the Susquehanna. The Sinnemahoning Valley is beautiful. The river is pretty shallow but so old that it has carved itself quite a valley. It is one of the longer east-west valleys in the state, most rivers follow the northeast-southwest slant with the mountains.
Along here I saw something that I had noticed a couple times before, in Indiana and Ohio. I was passed by a truck sporting the Confederate Flag. I just don't understand this. My southern friends may have a different view, but I see the stars and bars as a symbol of hate and bigotry. Even if it symbolized something different 130 years ago, that is what it is today. Why someone in Pennsylvania would have one, other than as a sign of small-mindedness, is beyond me. I mean, the Confederacy lost in large part because of the people and resources of the state of Pennsylvania.
From Emporium it's a little over 20 miles to the village of Sinnemahoning. It was comparatively easy as most of the climbs were around the shoulders of hills as they came down to the river and not over the hill itself. Generally though, the road stayed just above the water with a bulk of blasted rock on its north shoulder. When the road did rise, it generally allowed for a great view of the valley and surrounding hills. There was a cop checking speed at one pull off. I rode by him then 5 miles down the road he passed me. I found him again a couple miles further along, checking speeds from a pull off on the other side of the road. I waved at him again.
By now the sun was behind the hills. I rounded a few last curves and finally a descent into Sinnemahoning. I didn't see any signs for a campground, just a trail, so I stopped to ask a local where I could pitch a tent. I gestured at the yard we were standing in front. 'They're gone for a couple days, you could right here.' I said I thought there was a campground around here and he told me there was a place across the stone bridge (not the steel bridge). I thanked him and rode out there.
The sun had now firmly set and I pulled into the driveway of a cluster of cabins. There was a house identified as the office, and I was immediately greeted by the very loud yappy small dog in the yard. I rang the bell a couple times, but got now answer. I tried. I walked around behind the cabins, out of sight of both the house and the road, and pitched my tent there. I had made it well over 100 miles in the heat and I just wanted to rest.
Day 69 Tionesta, PA - Sinnemahoning, PA
110.45 miles in 8:49:55 for 4118.7 in 312:15:40 and a high speed of 38.4
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Mile 4008.2 - Of hills and heat
A few things were different about today. First, the forecast was calling for 100 degree heat across much of the northeast; second, I was getting back into the mountains. Between the two, I was taking frequent short breaks throughout the day.
I grabbed breakfast at the place recommended to me by the motel owner last night, a little kitchen owned by two women that only do breakfast and lunch. The food was good and so cheap, my standard minimum tip seemed a little ridiculous. I went back to the room to gather up all of my gear. The first goal for the day was to get into Franklin, about 25 miles away. There were a number of steep climbs, but thankfully they were largely shaded. I finally made it to the long, curving drop into downtown Franklin. I grabbed a sandwich at a little cafe and afterward went to the city park a block away. There was a nice fountain in the park and I decided to grab a bench and continue me break a little longer. As I pulled the gatorade out of my pannier to refill the bottle on the frame, a woman approached me. She said she had seen the gear on my bike and wanted to know how far I was going. As it turns out she and her husband are both cyclists and, in fact, her husband has crossed both the US and Canada on a bike.
She called her husband to come meet us, and I ended up talking to them for quite some time. So I met Paul and Terri Wittreich. Paul showed me copies of the books he had written about his journeys. This was certainly encouragement for me to work up this blog into a book form when I am done. I conferred with them about the route I was planning to take across Pennsylvania. As I had suspected, there was no way, north, south or center, to cross Pennsylvania without lots of up and down. They told me about a bike trail that I didn't know about that follows the Allegheny River into Oil City. After talking to them for a while and answering their many questions, I did need to press on. It was nice to take a respite from the day's heat, but an hour spent resting was an hour spent not getting home.
I went down to the river and found the Justus Trail. There was a bike shop right where I entered the trail, so I stopped in to replace the front light that seemed to no longer have interest in recharging. The man in the shop called me 'guy' twice. I don't know why, but being called 'guy' is annoying to me right below being called 'chief'. Please don't call me chief.
I followed the trail as it ran along the Allegheny. At one point, this area was one of the country's largest producers of oil and natural gas. While still a major employer in the region, the production isn't nearly at the level it was 80-100 years ago. Oil City still boasts of several Victorian mansions from the oil boom era. In fact, many of the houses in Oil City seemed oversized compared to most of the other houses I had seen so far in the state. From Oil City, I started climbing again, but thankfully, as the road was following the river, the highs weren't too high.
At one point a road wedged itself between the highway and the river, leading into the village of President. I rode down the smaller road to see if there was any place I could jump into the river. The heat of the day was now in full bloom and the cool river water seemed inviting. Unfortunately, most of the river bank seemed to be split up into private lots, so I couldn't find a way in without crossing someone's yard. Ok, I'll not jump in the river, I guess. The bigger problem I had in President was with the road itself. The road had been repitched recently, but because it was a lower quality road and very very hot, the tar was soft and sticky. I think, in fact, that the less than a mile that I was on this road did more damage to my back tire than the 1800 miles I had covered since the last time I replaced them. Looking at the tire the next morning, I found a couple cracks.
Unrefreshed by the cool river, I got back up to the highway. A couple curves down the road later I reached mile 4000 for the tour. It's hard to think that I had covered so many miles and had just over 500 left between me and home. If I had gone east from Lisbon, Portugal, I could be in central Afghanistan by now. Add in the miles left to New York, I could get to Kathmandu or Lhasa. That seems like a very long way to me.
The next town down the road was Tionesta, where the Tionesta River flows into the Allegheny. I crossed the bridge and found the office for the Allegheny National Forest. Sadly, the office closed at 5 and it was about 5:30. There was a map posted outside (and dated 1978) of the forest and its campgrounds. There was a place to camp right off of Tionesta Lake, just outside town, but the next place to legally camp was 30 miles down the road. Given the heat of the day and the strain of the hills, I decided not to push it, to just camp here.
Leaving town, I rode along the Tionesta River for a mile before coming to the campground. It was split into to sections on either side of the river, the south side was more appropriate for campers and cars, the north side better for touring cyclists with tents. I crossed a narrow bridge and established my tent site in the Outflow Recreation Area. I think Outflow is one of the more romantic park names I had camped in. I'm sure that it was busier a few days previously over the holiday weekend, but now there were only 4 of the 40 sites filled, so I got a site out of earshot of the families with kids at the river end of the grounds.
I was grateful that the campsite had a shower. I spent a good portion of the evening cleaning the bike. It's amazing how much gunk collects on the freewheel and gears. After dinner, I sat and read until the the light started to fade and the fireflies came out.
Day 68, Mercer, PA - Tionesta, PA
57.15 miles in 4:55:36. Now 4008.25 miles in 303:25:45 hours and a high speed of 45 mph.
I grabbed breakfast at the place recommended to me by the motel owner last night, a little kitchen owned by two women that only do breakfast and lunch. The food was good and so cheap, my standard minimum tip seemed a little ridiculous. I went back to the room to gather up all of my gear. The first goal for the day was to get into Franklin, about 25 miles away. There were a number of steep climbs, but thankfully they were largely shaded. I finally made it to the long, curving drop into downtown Franklin. I grabbed a sandwich at a little cafe and afterward went to the city park a block away. There was a nice fountain in the park and I decided to grab a bench and continue me break a little longer. As I pulled the gatorade out of my pannier to refill the bottle on the frame, a woman approached me. She said she had seen the gear on my bike and wanted to know how far I was going. As it turns out she and her husband are both cyclists and, in fact, her husband has crossed both the US and Canada on a bike.
She called her husband to come meet us, and I ended up talking to them for quite some time. So I met Paul and Terri Wittreich. Paul showed me copies of the books he had written about his journeys. This was certainly encouragement for me to work up this blog into a book form when I am done. I conferred with them about the route I was planning to take across Pennsylvania. As I had suspected, there was no way, north, south or center, to cross Pennsylvania without lots of up and down. They told me about a bike trail that I didn't know about that follows the Allegheny River into Oil City. After talking to them for a while and answering their many questions, I did need to press on. It was nice to take a respite from the day's heat, but an hour spent resting was an hour spent not getting home.
I went down to the river and found the Justus Trail. There was a bike shop right where I entered the trail, so I stopped in to replace the front light that seemed to no longer have interest in recharging. The man in the shop called me 'guy' twice. I don't know why, but being called 'guy' is annoying to me right below being called 'chief'. Please don't call me chief.
I followed the trail as it ran along the Allegheny. At one point, this area was one of the country's largest producers of oil and natural gas. While still a major employer in the region, the production isn't nearly at the level it was 80-100 years ago. Oil City still boasts of several Victorian mansions from the oil boom era. In fact, many of the houses in Oil City seemed oversized compared to most of the other houses I had seen so far in the state. From Oil City, I started climbing again, but thankfully, as the road was following the river, the highs weren't too high.
At one point a road wedged itself between the highway and the river, leading into the village of President. I rode down the smaller road to see if there was any place I could jump into the river. The heat of the day was now in full bloom and the cool river water seemed inviting. Unfortunately, most of the river bank seemed to be split up into private lots, so I couldn't find a way in without crossing someone's yard. Ok, I'll not jump in the river, I guess. The bigger problem I had in President was with the road itself. The road had been repitched recently, but because it was a lower quality road and very very hot, the tar was soft and sticky. I think, in fact, that the less than a mile that I was on this road did more damage to my back tire than the 1800 miles I had covered since the last time I replaced them. Looking at the tire the next morning, I found a couple cracks.
Unrefreshed by the cool river, I got back up to the highway. A couple curves down the road later I reached mile 4000 for the tour. It's hard to think that I had covered so many miles and had just over 500 left between me and home. If I had gone east from Lisbon, Portugal, I could be in central Afghanistan by now. Add in the miles left to New York, I could get to Kathmandu or Lhasa. That seems like a very long way to me.
The next town down the road was Tionesta, where the Tionesta River flows into the Allegheny. I crossed the bridge and found the office for the Allegheny National Forest. Sadly, the office closed at 5 and it was about 5:30. There was a map posted outside (and dated 1978) of the forest and its campgrounds. There was a place to camp right off of Tionesta Lake, just outside town, but the next place to legally camp was 30 miles down the road. Given the heat of the day and the strain of the hills, I decided not to push it, to just camp here.
Leaving town, I rode along the Tionesta River for a mile before coming to the campground. It was split into to sections on either side of the river, the south side was more appropriate for campers and cars, the north side better for touring cyclists with tents. I crossed a narrow bridge and established my tent site in the Outflow Recreation Area. I think Outflow is one of the more romantic park names I had camped in. I'm sure that it was busier a few days previously over the holiday weekend, but now there were only 4 of the 40 sites filled, so I got a site out of earshot of the families with kids at the river end of the grounds.
I was grateful that the campsite had a shower. I spent a good portion of the evening cleaning the bike. It's amazing how much gunk collects on the freewheel and gears. After dinner, I sat and read until the the light started to fade and the fireflies came out.
Day 68, Mercer, PA - Tionesta, PA
57.15 miles in 4:55:36. Now 4008.25 miles in 303:25:45 hours and a high speed of 45 mph.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Mile 3951.1 - Entering the last stage
I was excited to get up today, certain that I would be home within the week. There were a few minor things I needed to do before I could get on the road. Chief among them was laundry. I hadn't done laundry since Fort Wayne, and a weekend spent in a pannier in a torching hot metal storage unit didn't help. When the clothes were in the machine, I rode down to one of the gas stations for gatorade and a map of Pennsylvania. For the first time on the trip, I would enter a state with the appropriate highway map. As the laundry was in the dryer, I walked down the block and had breakfast at the Cracker Barrel. The food was tasty but the dining room crowded and I was glad to soon be back on my own.
Before Pennsylvania though, I first needed to get out of Ohio. The state line was about 60 miles away and the hills were starting to get harder. Taking the weekend off didn't help. It was also hot, getting well up into the 90's.
I got out of the suburban traffic around Canton and onto a couple longer stretches of state highway. In Deerfield, I stopped at a farmers' market to buy some cherries. Mmm, cherries. Crossing the narrow part of Lake Berlin, I was tempted to join the people in the water, but, of course, the road compelled me onward. Coming into Boardman, the highway was suddenly lined with department stores and strip malls. I took a break for lunch, then ten minutes further down the road, a stop for ice cream. At a red light at one intersection, I spent two light cycles talking with a guy in a yellow dog suit about the trip. I never took notice of what he was advertising, standing out in a sweltering heat of an animal suit. But he told me he was a cyclist and thought it was great that I was going cross country.
A short way down the road later, I had one of my worst interactions with infrastructure. Along this part of the road, there was a turn lane width shoulder for me to ride in, I just had to dodge car going into and out of the store parking lots. The shoulder suddenly shrank down to a white line and the curb for a couple hundred feet. Right as I was about to get back to the wider part, there was a storm drain that was set 3-4 inches below the rest of the curb. There was a wall of traffic next to me that I couldn't swerve into, so I hit the deep concrete border around 16 miles an hour. The bike jumped and all four of my panniers went flying. Somehow, thankfully, none of them flew under a car when they scattered. I gathered up my luggage and saw that there was a nice quarter-sized hole now in my food pannier. Joy. I would like whoever designed that drain to ride a bike over it and see how it feels.
10 miles further down the road, I came to the Pennsylvania Line. I took a quick shot of the Welcome to PA sign, but didn't check it or take a second shot, and as it turned out the picture was out of focus. Bleh. Oh well, I was in PA.
Not far down he road I saw a pair of Amish girls walking down the side of the road. Within a few more miles, I had seen a number of carriages for two riders and the more family friendly four.
Coming into New Wilmington, It was getting to be around 7:00 and I was ready to be done. The hills and the heat were plenty. I found a rustic looking motel/restaurant, but was informed that the owners were out and probably wouldn't be back for a couple hours. So, the man sitting on the bench on the porch told me, I couldn't stay there. He was older than my parents, though not yet my grandmother's age and wore khaki colored slacks and a light blue button down shirt, long sleeved, even in the heat. He asked which direction I was going and I told him I was headed up toward Mercer. He told me about the three places to spend a night in mercer, the two by the interstate were more pricey, but the one further along my path would be less expensive.
Going up and down these hills, I saw several more horse drawn carriages, an older couple sitting on well-crafted rocking chairs in front of a modest house, and a bridge that was out and being rebuilt. I climbed a long hill and came into the range of the noise from the interstate. I stopped on the overpass and took a picture of the final time that I would cross paths with US 80. I crossed over or under 80 in California, Utah, and Illinois, as well as having to ride on it for 11 miles in Wyoming. Now, the road I had encountered more than any other on this trip was passing under me in Pennsylvania. In college I drove from San Francisco to Chicago on I-80, what a different view I have of it now.
Then I climbed the longest hill I've found since leaving the Black Hills way back in western South Dakota. I slowly cranked my way up without benefit of shade and running low on water. I took a moment at the top to rest and watch the sun start to sink below the wooded hills to my west. There was still plenty of daylight, but I would be out of the direct sun for the rest of the day. Then I started downhill and just missed hitting 40 mph for the first time since South Dakota too. Maybe if I hadn't come to a full stop on top of the hill.
I came into Mercer and found the motel I had been told about. The woman inside seemed intrigued and gave me a good deal on the room. I showered and tried to get a pizza, but apparently at 9:00 they don't deliver anymore. I walked around and found some Chinese food instead. I was in Pennsylvania, but I still had a lot ahead of me.
Day 67, Canton, OH - Mercer, Pa
81.8 miles in 6:12:31 for 3951.1 in 298:30:09 and a high speed of 39.8 mph
Before Pennsylvania though, I first needed to get out of Ohio. The state line was about 60 miles away and the hills were starting to get harder. Taking the weekend off didn't help. It was also hot, getting well up into the 90's.
I got out of the suburban traffic around Canton and onto a couple longer stretches of state highway. In Deerfield, I stopped at a farmers' market to buy some cherries. Mmm, cherries. Crossing the narrow part of Lake Berlin, I was tempted to join the people in the water, but, of course, the road compelled me onward. Coming into Boardman, the highway was suddenly lined with department stores and strip malls. I took a break for lunch, then ten minutes further down the road, a stop for ice cream. At a red light at one intersection, I spent two light cycles talking with a guy in a yellow dog suit about the trip. I never took notice of what he was advertising, standing out in a sweltering heat of an animal suit. But he told me he was a cyclist and thought it was great that I was going cross country.
A short way down the road later, I had one of my worst interactions with infrastructure. Along this part of the road, there was a turn lane width shoulder for me to ride in, I just had to dodge car going into and out of the store parking lots. The shoulder suddenly shrank down to a white line and the curb for a couple hundred feet. Right as I was about to get back to the wider part, there was a storm drain that was set 3-4 inches below the rest of the curb. There was a wall of traffic next to me that I couldn't swerve into, so I hit the deep concrete border around 16 miles an hour. The bike jumped and all four of my panniers went flying. Somehow, thankfully, none of them flew under a car when they scattered. I gathered up my luggage and saw that there was a nice quarter-sized hole now in my food pannier. Joy. I would like whoever designed that drain to ride a bike over it and see how it feels.
10 miles further down the road, I came to the Pennsylvania Line. I took a quick shot of the Welcome to PA sign, but didn't check it or take a second shot, and as it turned out the picture was out of focus. Bleh. Oh well, I was in PA.
Not far down he road I saw a pair of Amish girls walking down the side of the road. Within a few more miles, I had seen a number of carriages for two riders and the more family friendly four.
Coming into New Wilmington, It was getting to be around 7:00 and I was ready to be done. The hills and the heat were plenty. I found a rustic looking motel/restaurant, but was informed that the owners were out and probably wouldn't be back for a couple hours. So, the man sitting on the bench on the porch told me, I couldn't stay there. He was older than my parents, though not yet my grandmother's age and wore khaki colored slacks and a light blue button down shirt, long sleeved, even in the heat. He asked which direction I was going and I told him I was headed up toward Mercer. He told me about the three places to spend a night in mercer, the two by the interstate were more pricey, but the one further along my path would be less expensive.
Going up and down these hills, I saw several more horse drawn carriages, an older couple sitting on well-crafted rocking chairs in front of a modest house, and a bridge that was out and being rebuilt. I climbed a long hill and came into the range of the noise from the interstate. I stopped on the overpass and took a picture of the final time that I would cross paths with US 80. I crossed over or under 80 in California, Utah, and Illinois, as well as having to ride on it for 11 miles in Wyoming. Now, the road I had encountered more than any other on this trip was passing under me in Pennsylvania. In college I drove from San Francisco to Chicago on I-80, what a different view I have of it now.
Then I climbed the longest hill I've found since leaving the Black Hills way back in western South Dakota. I slowly cranked my way up without benefit of shade and running low on water. I took a moment at the top to rest and watch the sun start to sink below the wooded hills to my west. There was still plenty of daylight, but I would be out of the direct sun for the rest of the day. Then I started downhill and just missed hitting 40 mph for the first time since South Dakota too. Maybe if I hadn't come to a full stop on top of the hill.
I came into Mercer and found the motel I had been told about. The woman inside seemed intrigued and gave me a good deal on the room. I showered and tried to get a pizza, but apparently at 9:00 they don't deliver anymore. I walked around and found some Chinese food instead. I was in Pennsylvania, but I still had a lot ahead of me.
Day 67, Canton, OH - Mercer, Pa
81.8 miles in 6:12:31 for 3951.1 in 298:30:09 and a high speed of 39.8 mph
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