The Ride Story (part 3 of 6) - Day 3
My hotel bed was extremely comfortable, made even more so by riding 100 miles and enduring a night in a tiny tent during a thunderstorm. As we came to, Robbe mentioned he could hear the rain outside. As expected, it was really coming down. We went to the lobby for continental breakfast, which didn't exist despite the graphical wallpaper leading us to think it might. So we got coffee and headed back to the room to pack up and get ready for a wet day on the trail.
As I got my stuff together, I noticed one of my stuff sacks, a bright orange one, was missing. It had in it a light windbreaker and something of much greater importance: my rain jacket. Without panicking, I went back to the lobby to get a key to room 109, where we were briefly before changing rooms. I looked it over completely, as did Robbe. The truth was starting to sink in, that my rain jacket was missing...but how!? Anyone that knows me well enough to be reading this knows how anal I am, and how unlikely it is for me to leave it someplace. Even though I unpacked and repacked several times, the chances of me leaving this neon orange bag around on a picnic table or the ground were slim.
As I sat on the edge of the bed, it hit me: the raccoon!! He must've made off with it! The way it was packed, it did have a very grip-able handle. At one point I had felt proud that I was able to repack my saddle bags tighter than when I left; now I know why!
The show must go on
Robbe and I pondered what to do next. Riding without gear seemed out of the question; getting wet wasn't that big a deal and frankly inevitable anyway, but getting sick could be a problem the next day. We noticed that we were only 4 miles south of the Hagerstown outlets, so that was promising, but riding there would defeat the purpose. I thought of how close we were to Hagerstown, and decided to give my father a call, who Google maps said lived only about 35 minutes away.
Thanks Dad
I made the call at 9:01, and told him the issue. He's a practical fellow, and just asked "what can I do to help?" He didn't have any rain gear to lend me, but he knew where the outlets were on the way. He said it was no problem to come down and take me to them.
Robbe and I continued packing, and I expressed some disappointment that I had to rely on my father again. He made me feel better, and I had no choice but to get over it.
At 9:39, while en route, he called to get my exact location. My stepmother, who does commercial real estate appraising, knew the area well, and asked "are you near the Waffle House?" I answered that we were directly next to it, as we were the room at the end of the row. Dad said they'd go right to the store and get the gear to save time. I was careful to ask for size large pants and a jacket, as in the past my dad tended to overestimate my size. I joked with Robbe that I refrained from asking for black, because my dad has good taste and I was interested in letting him pick it out, kind of. He can be quirky: recent Christmas presents from him have included a hand-turned wooden bowler's hat and a 3D bust of himself with the word "DAD" emblazoned across it.
They arrived at 10:18, just 1 hour and 17 minutes after the first phone call. I met them at the lobby under the covered drive through. I was a bit relieved to open the bag and see a nice, black set of Columbia rain gear, "the best they had," my Dad said. It was high quality Columbia: waterproof and breathable. Plus, I didn't even have rain pants initially, so it worked out well, as they were a great help with the mud.
Phil was now out in front of the lobby with me, having returned from breakfast at the Waffle House and debating his plans. He decided to wait out the storm and stay another day there. I tried on my gear and was a little bummed to see that, despite my efforts and my dad getting the size I asked for, they were HUGE! Why were they cut so damn big!? Brittany told me via text "Just sinch it up and give that trail hell!" I got some rubberbands from the front desk and made it work.
Can we go now?
We rode across the street to McDonald's, who took the breakfast until 11 thing a little too seriously (it was like 10:56). So we said nuts to that and hit up the Sheetz for breakfast and snacks to pack. We finally made it to the trail and took off around 11:30. It was absolutely pouring. As we started riding, we realized quickly an unexpected benefit to the rain: little to no mud! Because of all the water, any mud that was getting stuck in my tire the day before was now getting washed out immediately. Not only that, but the long puddles cause us to kind of hydroplane. Not in a bad way, but speeding us up a bit as we went through them! It was like the yellow arrows in mario kart, but in real life.
I generally hate riding in the rain, but this was so insane, just the amount of rain coming down and the puddles we were riding through, that it was actually enjoyable. Plus I had a mad case of the giggles; I couldn't stop laughing at how absurd it all was! There were times that we'd ride through puddles for what had to be 50 yards long. By Big Pool, specifically, I remember some crazy ones. Good thing I opted to wear crocs and no socks, despite knowing they give me a bruise due to rubbing in a specific spot whenever I wear them. Remember, I ride a fixed gear bike which means I can't coast over a puddle. My feet, many times, were fully submerged.
The rain started to taper off a few miles out of Hancock, and when we got there we saw Jack again, who had also stayed at the Red Roof Inn but probably got an earlier start. We chatted a bit as we each debated our plans.
Hancock
We rinsed off in the canal (which would prove to be useless in 5 minutes), and found a restaurant. It had a hose outside (see?) and we hosed off ourselves, bikes and gear. It was a cool place called Buddy Lou's, that had an antique store in the basement. We entered, and while getting seated, were approached by Clay, and older gentlemen who had been chatting with Robbe outside. He invited us to sit with him, and we obliged. I sat down and undid the rubberbands around my pants, which quickly sent large puddles of trapped muddy water crashing to the floor. I have no idea why I didn't do this outside and refrain from embarrassing myself in front of the pretty girl who clearly stood out in a group at the table next to us. We were informed that it was Ayla Brown, a contestant on American Idol who was doing a concert in a tent set up out back.
I had a burger and a beer. Robbe made small talk with Clay while most of my time was spent getting myself in order, as I had to put on my padded shorts that I'd forgone in the morning due to the rain, when I thought I'd be riding in only shorts that could get wet. We left, navigating the unnecessary amount of event staff that clearly outnumbered the audience for the concert.
Camp
We got moving again, with a plan to do another 20 miles or so. It wasn't raining much now, and at some point we noted how we were "surviving" more than "camping." We decided to pitch camp about 5 miles sooner in an attempt to enjoy ourselves. We also wanted to avoid sharing a campsite with Jack, who had suggested he might see us at "Devil's Alley" campsite around mile 145.
When I arrived at "Indigo Neck" campsite, there were 4 deer lying in the grass across the canal, which had a lock with a little waterfall running through it. On the campsite / river side, there was the foundation of the lockhouse. It was all very pretty and a perfect place to camp. Robbe arrived a little later, as he'd stopped to play in a waterfall, which I was bummed to have missed.
I set up camp while Robbe rode back two miles to retrieve the gloves he'd left at the waterfall. When he got back, I informed him that "Bill's Place," a bar / store, was just a mile up, and he rode on to get a six pack of beer and a six pack of firewood, which, next to the hotel, was one of the best decisions thus far. Him arriving with the wood strapped to his rack and the beer in his hand was a highlight of the trip for sure. Our spirits were high with the prospect of beer and fire.
We collected more kindling, settled in and got the fire going. Sun set, and we made good on the beer, whiskey, vodka minis and backwoods, while listening to music on Robbe's portable speaker. There's no telling how long we might have gone had the skies not opened up a bit after 11. I scrambled to my tent, and Robbe to his hamm-mock. Looks like I'd have to do another night in a thunderstorm in the tiny tent, but at least this time I had the mat inflated correctly.
Note: Not many pictures from this day due to the rain.
