In fact, I had to make a return sooner than I thought I would, for unhappy cause, just last week taking the train to Lincoln and back for the funeral of my grandfather. Having lost my grandmother on the eve of my tour last year, I would say I feared this becoming a recurring theme, save that I now have no grandparents left to lose. He was a cantankerous old man, and he will be dearly missed. Goodbyes always feel like they come too soon, whether it's to a 93 year-old grandfather you have known all your life, or to a city you have known less than a year. Goodbyes are frequent and inevitable, and yet they still never get any easier.
I will be saying goodbye to Pittsburgh in just five days now. I'm leaving on the 10th, to make my way to Lincoln. ...But I won't be seeing it for awhile yet, because as is my way, I can't just take the relatively short 1000 miles straight there. What fun would there be in that? Nope, the plan for getting west is to first head east, to Maine, then south, down the coast to Key West, and THEN, make my way up from there to Lincoln. If it all goes as planned it will be my longest tour to date. It should be a hell of a ride.
Considering that I haven't really been keeping in touring shape this year, and because I haven't tent camped in even longer (having chosen my old tent in favor of hammocking after my experiences with it last tour), I decided to do a little trial run. Having heard so much about it over this last year as the trail of choice, I decided to do my run along the GAP, a rails to trail that will get you all the way from Pittsburgh to DC if you run its full course (easily the most popular route anyone takes here for a short tour). The plan was to head to Ohiopyle, 76 miles out, camp there, and head back the next day. ...Things didn't quite go as planned.
Of course, when it wasn't supposed to rain at all, it started a light shower as soon as I got out the door. But that just gave me a chance to get some use out of my relatively new Showers Pass jacket. My girlfriend, who I've been staying with since moving out of my place prior to my short visit back to Lincoln, lives up in the Southside Slopes, so my first experience I got riding with fully loaded panniers again was to race downhill. It was fun, and got me feeling pumped right from the outset. But then, no sooner had I reached the trail than I realized I have a problem. The rain was light, and yet I suddenly havd a rush of water down my front. It didn't take me long to realize that it was coming from my Camelbak. The bite valve had fallen off somewhere, probably on my way downhill, and certainly lost for good. Maybe I hadn't it put it on all the way tight after taking it apart to clean it, maybe it had just stretched out over time, whatever the case, it happened. And while not an expensive thing to lose, it was costly, in that my camelbak wasn't much use (yes, you can suck on the tube without the valve, but trying that made me want to gag). I actually biked my way back to Thick, a bikeshop close by, to get a replacement bite valve, only to remember it would be a couple hours until they opened. So I was just out of luck. Thankfully, it wasn't hot, there were plenty of places to find water, and I still made use of the bladder by dumping it out into my water bottle (the reverse of what I usually end up doing while touring). For as much as I've had many people insist that water bottles should be sufficient and they would hate a Camelbak for touring because they don't like the idea of the weight on their back, I did find that I had to make a more conscious effort to keep myself hydrated without having it so easily drinkable from my back.
Aside from that, the day went fairly well, all in all. I've had an unknown shoulder injury for months that has concerned me, but while it certainly bothered me during the ride, it was by no means intolerable, and it seemed to peak out after a number of miles before fading into the background. Other aches and pains came back like old friends, and my shoulder just seemed like a new friend for the rest of them. The trail was lovely, forested, river on one side, often steep rock and little waterfalls on the other, passing through many nice little towns, not to mention, blissfully flat. I realized how much work there must be in maintaining the trail, despite it being crushed limestone after the first 20 miles of pavement, due largely to all the trees. I saw several that looked prime to fall, one being cleaned up, and one that had not yet been cleared and required going around the trail to pass.
Despite it being a good day, I was definitely sore and ready to set up camp as I reached Ohiopyle. ...And just as I was so excited to be at the end, that's when I realized I had made a mistake. The campground was not where I thought it was. I came into the town searching for it, only to at last check Google Maps and realize it was well outside of it, by way of what looked like a roundabout route up a big hill. I had seen a sign earlier on the trail indicating a way into the campground, but had ignored it since it said it was for registered campers. I decided to head back to it. I discovered it to be a steep hike-a-bike trail. Not knowing how far up it went, having heard some bad things about camping at Ohiopyle that I had previously ignored, and knowing it would be no fun to go down in the morning, I had one of my crazy, ah screw this, moments. And I decided instead I was going to bike back to where I had seen some sort of campground outside Connellsville.
And thus I added 21 miles to my day, making it a 97 mile trial run. I arrived at last, about 7:30, with a little sunlight left. ...To discover that first of all, it was a KOA, which I have made vows to never camp at thanks to other bad experiences, and second of all, that the office had just closed. Without much other choice, I sucked up what I admit may be an unreasonable hatred of all KOAs, and seeing that there was still someone in the concessions building, knocked on the door and hoped for the best. The lady was nice enough to let me in and take my money, $15 to camp for the night. Considering it came with electricity, WIFI, and access to a modern bathroom, that actually sounded quite reasonable. ...Until I went to actually set up my tent. I was a little rusty at the process since it had been awhile, but it all came back quick enough. The problem was that despite the thick grass that would make it look otherwise, everywhere I tried I hit a rocky layer with my stakes (the ground was not hard, as there had been plenty of rain). They aren't the toughest stakes by any means, but I've never encountered so much trouble. I bent multiple stakes all to hell in my attempt to get them into the ground, and was unable to get my tent secured in a way that it would hold up well to much wind or rain. There were no trees or big rocks to use to try much in the way of alternative tie down methods, and I was too tired to make the attempt anyways. The way the grass looked at the tent camp area (a rather small space with limited room compared to the vast area for RVs) no one else had tent camped there for awhile, and I wonder if that's why. The barking dogs, the train running pass very close by, all these things were annoyances I am not unaccustomed to and I could handle, but the unstakeable ground had me irritated. I went to sleep at the end of my long day just really hoping it didn't rain on me.
Thankfully, the rain didn't start until around 7am. By which point, I had already gotten up and had everything packed up and ready to go. It was a nice, gentle rain, nothing I mind riding in, though the muddy trail definitely got my bike and gear dirty (after I just cleaned it all! So it goes...). It was a largely uneventful day, shortened to 55 miles thanks to my extra distance backwards the day before, finishing up right around 1pm. The hardest part was at the very end making the climb up into the Southside Slopes, which made me realize how out of shape I am far more than the 97 miler the day before did. I took time to clean up my bike and gear, and then promptly collapsed. And that, as they say, was that.
Am I ready, for my most ambitious tour yet, to start in less than a week? No. Not even a little bit. Am I doing it anyways? Yeah, I do believe I am. As anyone who has read the rest of this blog must already know, I certainly wasn't ready for the last three either. It didn't stop me then, so it shouldn't stop me now. I'm going to take the next few days to rest up and make some final preparations, then I'll be on my way.
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