The Ride Story (part 4 of 6) - Day 4
Well this is it. The last day of riding. I was having trouble getting started, since we're a few weeks removed now, so I texted Robbe for some help (see image). Pretty helpful; I'll follow his outline...
Pain
By Sunday morning, we were hurting. Breaking down camp and packing up a bunch of wet gear wasn't our favorite way to start either. I cooked some dehydrated eggs, which weren't very good, but we ate most of them anyway. I also made some instant coffee, which was absolutely disgusting.
To cap off the morning, Robbe's phone wasn't working right, presumably due to water damage, and he lost one of his gloves - the very ones that he rode 4 miles to retrieve about 12 hours earlier. Not only that, but upon trying to fish with the travel rod he'd been carrying the whole trip, he realized it was broken. He'd go on to take it all the way to Cumberland before being able to trash it.
As we were packing, Jack, who had stayed in Hancock, rode by our site. We chatted for a few minutes; that was the last time we'd see him. His goal was not only to finish in Cumberland, but to drive back to Ohio that night. Good luck!
The riding started off challenging and never did let up. We were both plumb tired, and the mud and fallen trees didn't help matters. We had 45 miles to go. We did have a nice little experience about a mile in when some fellas leaving a boat ramp / park area offered to take our trash (including the 6 glass beer bottles) that was strapped to our bikes (Robbe forgetting to hand over the cracked fishing rod). I commented that "ah, right, we're not in Baltimore anymore" and the dude responded "actually, we're from Pasadena." I guess there are nice people here after all.
The 140's went by VERY slowly. We passed Devil's Alley campsite, and were astounded at how high the river was. Any higher and it'd a been a scary place to camp, as the site did have nice water access. The 150's weren't much better, and we trudged on.
Paw Paw Tunnel
I was desperately looking forward to reaching the Paw Paw tunnel (mile marker 155.8), a .6 mile long tunnel where the canal (and tow path) cut through the mountain. Not only was I pumped to see it, but I was tired and hungry. We finally arrived and took some pics. It took, shoot, 20 - 30 minutes just to walk through the damn thing! It was basically pitch black, narrow, had pot holes / puddles in the path and other people crossing from the other side. My new headlight really did impress both Robbe and myself though.
After making it through, there were picnic tables and we had lunch. Food supplies were running low, so Robbe and I shared what we each had...peanut butter filled pretzels, an apple, some misc. snacks, summer sausage and cheese. We didn't dally too much as, just going about 16 miles took us quite a while (I forget the exact time, but it was not pretty). This prompted us to text Kellen, our scheduled pick up, an estimated "5 - 6 pm" arrival in Cumberland.
More Pain
The riding was just a bear, there's no other way to say it. There was never any doubt in my mind that we would finish, but it was more like "I have no idea how, or when, we'll finish." It really was just hard to imagine 25, 30 more miles! Chatting with Robbe helped a lot, but again, my bike is geared to go faster, and it's harder on my legs and body to keep even a slightly slower pace. When we did ride together, we played the alphabet game to pass the time. At one point we chose "Beatles songs" as our category, and worked together to get every letter except for, I think, K, V, U and X? We got stumped on N, which we came back to miles later when Robbe randomly screamed out "Norwegian Wood!!" We lamented missing that, as it's a favorite of both of ours.
Around mile 164.8, we stopped again at Potomac Forks campsite (the pics below that have the lock house with the porch). I was so exhausted at this point that I flat out laid down on the porch. Robbe went and got some water across the canal, and I do believe I fell asleep, if only for a few moments.
"Losing my mind" / Song about raspberries
After my brief rest, I did feel better, and then finally breaking into the 160's it started to feel like "OK, I can do this. 15 more miles? That's nothing."
Towards the mid to late 160's, Robbe started losing his mind and acting super goofy, which was great because it took my mind off of the grind. At this point, I couldn't ride fast even if I wanted to, so we were mostly together from here on out. Robbe had decided that he wanted nothing more than to find and eat wild raspberries, and proceeded to write and sing a song in an attempt to "woo" them out of hiding. It went something like this: "Well I roooooode, [166] miiiiiiiles, juuuuuust ta find youuoooooo." Then with each passing mile marker, I'd rattle off a musician whom Robbe would then have to impersonate while singing the song (Dylan, Petty, Tom Waits).
A hilarious thing happened at mile 171. Robbe had been singing that he'd "roooooode, [171] miiiiiiiles..." So as we approached the next mile marker, I was cued up to let it rip for 172. So I start off: "Weeeeellllllll, iiiiiiii roooooooooode, a hundred and seventy-tw...."
I went silent without finishing the line. Robbe quickly apologized ("ah, sorry dude" through a slight chuckle), as he noticed immediately that we were just now approaching mile marker 171, and not 172 as his singing had led me to believe. Maybe as a defense mechanism to the pain, or just at how absurd it was, I started laughing one of those real deep, breathless laughs that not only lets no sound out, but seems to suck in all the sound around you to wrap one in an envelope of silence until it eventually comes out in a thunderous roar. It was one of the hardest laughs I'd ever laughed, and probably got us clear to mile 173 before I came to.
Turtles and snakes
Robbe loves turtles, and I had been bragging about how many we'd see on this ride for weeks. Not only had he not seen any right in the trail, but they weren't really as plentiful on logs and rocks in the water either. On Sunday, I think before Paw Paw, we did finally come across one. Robbe checked to make sure it wasn't a snapper, then picked him up. He was a good size. After that we'd pass at least one more, and then did start seeing a ton along the canal!
During the build up to our trip, Robbe had said that one item on his bucket list was to catch a black snake, and that it'd be awesome to do it here. When I asked him why he wanted to do that so badly, he said "because I'm scared to do it, and I want to confront it head on." I could totally get down with that logic.
Well, the hilarity of the mile 171 incident got us jazzed up, and we were moving at a pretty good clip now, together. I was just in front of Robbe, who was drafting me, and we were riding on the right side of the trail. It wasn't until I was almost on top of it that I noticed a big black snake stretched across 75% of the path, heading to our right. I think I yelled out something like "stooooppppppp, there it is! Snaaaaaaaake!" I of course didn't have brakes, so I swerved to the left and grinded out a stop as best I could. Robbe jumped off his bike and handed it to me, still rolling, and I proceed to lean it against mine. He marched back to the snake, who at this point had sped up his retreat into the woods, and without even a second's hesitation reached down and grabbed that sumbitch by the tail! (and if you're thinking what I was thinking, this IS apparently the correct way to catch this kind of snake, as Robbe had watched a ton of YouTube videos in preparation).
Following what he'd learned, he held the snake like that for about a minute or so to let it get used to his presence. Then he slowly used his other hand to hold higher, and it quickly became clear that the snake was cool with it! Seriously, this was not a small snake (see pics). I'd estimate, based on stretch across the trail, that he could have been as long as 3 feet! Snakey gently wriggle around Robbe's forearm. Besides a very early light snap or two during the initial pickup, the snake only reacted again when I touched him ("ewie ewie ewie!" - I'm not a snake person, but had to at least touch his slimy ass, since Robbe was basically juggling him at this point). I jumped back a bit; the snake was cool with Robbe, but he wasn't having one bit of me. I didn't mind.
We stood there for a bit, kind of taking it in. I snapped a bunch of pictures in hopes of getting a good one or two. I love images that capture in one's face a moment, whether it be triumph or even defeat, and you can see in Robbe's the pride of ticking something off his bucket list.
The finish line
We were so pumped now that we were pretty much immune to the grind. We stopped briefly at the last lock house, which was opened with a small exhibit and a nice volunteer guide who offered us a delicious cup of iced tea and encouraged us that we were so close to the end (about 10 miles). The sun came out, so I finally took off my rain pants. Naturally it started raining again about a mile later, but at this point I couldn't care less.
We were probably 3-5 miles out when Robbe finally found the raspberries, and I held his bike while he picked us a few servings. They were solid. As we rode on, I knew we were getting close when my phone, which hadn't had a signal for the 60 miles since Hancock, started buzzing and vibrating with all the backed up notifications and text messages now coming through. Soon I could see the town's steeples beginning to appear over the tree line.
We pulled into an overcast and drizzly Cumberland around 3:30 ish. That last stretch where the town comes into view was a sight I'll never forget. We snapped a few pics in front of the last mile marker and attempted to document the muddiness of ourselves and bikes before we'd search for a hose. I called Kellen to let him know we'd finished, and he said he was about an hour or so out.
We rode down into the touristy "Canal Place," where a bike shop had a very powerful hose out for riders just like ourselves. This time I completely disrobed down to my shorts to prevent another muddy water incident in the restaurant. We had dinner and a beer at "The Crabby Pig," which was pretty good. I was careful not to over indulge, as Brittany was preparing a big meal of my choice (Chicken Marsala) for when I got home.
Just as we finished, Kellen showed up with a cold Natty Boh each for Robbe and I, which we drank as we loaded up the truck. The ride home took an effort just to stay awake, but my mind was also racing, trying to comprehend that I'd just achieved redemption over something that had beat me 14 years before. The chip on my shoulder could finally be let go. In between yawns and long blinks of my eyes, I daydreamed about all the other things I now felt empowered to achieve.
