Riding back to the past along the C&O Canal
EDITOR'S NOTE: Freelance writer Bob Cupp, a member of the Mon-Yough Trail Council, the Westmoreland Trail Chapter of the Regional Trail Corp., the Somerset County Rails-To-Trails Association and the C&O Canal Association, recently rode his bike along the C&O Canal from Cumberland, Md., to Washington, D.C.
Traveling on a towpath is like taking a step back in time to an era when life was less complicated and proceeded at a much slower pace. There's a deepening sense of appreciation for what it took to build a structure as large and as complex as a canal more than 150 years ago. Although travel by mule-drawn canal boats was at a speed of only 4 mph, the canal was an important means of transportation in the westward expansion of the nation.
A personal favorite is the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal. As the name implies, the C&O was intended to provide transportation from Chesapeake Bay to the Ohio River (Washington, D.C., to Pittsburgh) and back. By the time it reached Cumberland, Md., along the Potomac River in 1850, it had taken 22 years and $13 million to build. The B&O Railroad beat the canal to Cumberland by eight years, sealing its eventual fate. Nevertheless, the canal remained in operation for 74 years, from 1850 to 1924, when extensive damage from severe flooding finally ended the canal era along the Potomac.
I'd taken numerous bicycle rides along the C&O over the years, but I never had an opportunity to travel its entire length. So when my friend, Tim Martin, suggested that we bike the towpath from end to end, I jumped at the chance. Well, perhaps "jumped'' is too strong a word; let's just say he talked me into it. I had never biked more than 40 miles in one day – not even close to the three consecutive 60-plus-mile days required by our itinerary.
The logistics of making the 184.5-mile ride over the somewhat remote towpath led to the determination that it would be an "unsupported'' ride. There would be no "sag wagon'' on this trip. Of course, I thought "unsupported'' meant that my bike wouldn't have a motor, and no one would be towing me with a rope. I suppose if I'd thought about it, I would have understood "unsupported"' meant it was necessary to carry 30 extra pounds of stuff on my bike.
A three-day trip was planned, based on the availability of motels in the vicinity of the canal. Camping was not an option. That would have required taking a tent, sleeping bag, additional food and lots of insect repellent. If I had to carry any additional gear, I would have needed a U-Haul.
The final plan was to travel from Cumberland to Washington, D.C., which meant a downhill journey. The drop in elevation was only 605 feet over the entire distance. A 3-foot drop per mile does not mean you won't have to pedal, but the downhill strategy did provide a psychological benefit.
Martin also recruited Rich Zisek and Tom Dix, two Elliott Co. co-workers. Zisek and Dix added a level of experience to the group – both had previously biked major portions of the towpath. Dix, an engineer, is very knowledgeable about C&O Canal history and operation. Zisek is a seasoned veteran of bicycle excursions. He knew exactly what to take on the trip. His bags looked so small compared with mine, but he always pulled out exactly what was needed in any circumstance.
Getting to Cumberland, Md., from Jeannette was a challenge in itself. It's not easy to stuff four adults, four bikes and everything you need to survive for three days into one vehicle. Fortunately, Martin had a trailer, which he was able to modify for hauling bicycles.
ON THE TOWPATH
The night before we started our ride, we stayed in Lavalle, Md., at Braddock's Best Western Inn. In anticipation of the adventure before us, I had difficulty sleeping. Our departure point was a few miles away at the Western Maryland Railroad Station, a beautifully restored building which is now known as Canal Place. It's already a center of recreational activity and is the point where the Great Allegheny Passage Trail System will eventually meet the C&O Canal. You can also take a scenic steam train ride from there to Frostburg, Md., where the engine is turned around on a turntable for the return trip to Cumberland.
Finally, we were on our way – passing locks, lock houses and many additional canal structures and remnants along the towpath. It's amazing to be so close to civilization, yet feel surrounded by wilderness. We paused to take numerous photos, only to learn that the scenery around the next bend was even more beautiful. There have been reports that water-quality problems have resulted in dwindling numbers of turtles, but there's no evidence to support that theory along the C&O Canal. Hundreds of turtles could be seen, sunning themselves on fallen logs in the canal and along the towpath.
A severe thunderstorm had passed through the area four days earlier. As a result, there were fallen trees across the towpath. Each time one was encountered, the loaded bikes had to be lifted over the tree or carried around it. The poison ivy vines that clung to some of the trees made the process even more of a challenge. Over the course of our three-day trip, we had to repeat this routine nine times.
The Paw Paw Tunnel was the destination for a lunch break that day. Knowing that the opportunities to acquire lunch along the way would be limited, we had purchased some sandwiches that morning before we departed. Martin, an accomplished artist, took time out to draw a sketch of the tunnel. The 3,118-foot brick-lined tunnel is easily the most impressive structure along the canal. It took 14 years and almost 6 million bricks to build it.
Following a flat tire and its repair, it was time for a rest stop in Little Orleans at "Bill's Place,' a combination grocery store, restaurant, bar, mayor's office, etc., that is famous among C&O travelers. Although the sign read "Open,'' the door was locked, and there was no sign of Bill. There was another sign, however, indicating that if the fishing was good, he wouldn't be there.
Hancock, Md., the destination for the day, wasn't reached until 7 p.m. Tired and hungry, we decided to stop for dinner at Weaver's Restaurant on Main Street. The food was home cooked, and the price was right. Particularly enjoyable was the vegetable crab soup. We did eat well on this trip.
'MOTEL MUFFINS'
Old-time members of the C&O Canal Association refer to canal hikers/bikers who prefer to sleep in beds rather than camp in the hiker/biker overnight camp sites as "motel muffins.'' The term appropriately described our group. The four motel muffins pedaled a short distance out of town to the Hancock Motel, home for the night with all the conveniences – like a bed and hot running water.
Day No. 2 started the same way Day No. 1 ended: dining at Weaver's Restaurant. Addressing our concerns about the weather, the lady behind the counter informed us that her knee wasn't bothering her, so she didn't think it was going to rain.
With our energy supply renewed, we were ready to go. Before we reached the towpath to begin the day's journey, Dix called out those two dreaded words: "flat tire.'' Our experienced pit crew had the flat fixed in no time, and we were on our way. We made better progress the second day until we had to take a detour on local roads, bypassing an impassible section of the towpath between Dam 4 and McMahon's Mill. The scenery was pretty, and the local drivers must have been used to novice bicyclists trying to maneuver the detour.
Since the route wasn't well marked, it was fortunate that we had a map of the detour. Otherwise, it could have been a very long ride. Our destination for the day was Harpers Ferry, W.Va., and a stay at the Comfort Inn. Fearing that the weatherman's prediction of severe thunderstorms could still be correct, we hurried down the towpath past Williamsport and Shepherdstown. The thought occurred that Abraham Lincoln had once journeyed along the same towpath by horse and buggy on his way to nearby Antietam Battlefield. Approaching Harper's Ferry, images of what it must have been like to travel along the canal during the Civil War, as both sides struggled for control of the Potomac River Valley, came to mind.
To reach Harper's Ferry, an iron stairway is climbed, and the Potomac River is crossed on a pedestrian walkway on a railroad bridge. That meant the bikes and gear had to be carried up the steps.
On the bridge, we encountered a young man who had lost his job and was in the process of hiking the length of the Appalachian Trail (from Georgia to Maine) by himself. The Appalachian Trail follows the C&O Canal at that point for a short distance to the southeast.
Since the town is part of the Harper's Ferry National Historic Park, it basically shuts down at 5 p.m. daily, and it was well past that time when we arrived. So we rode out of town and up the hill to the Comfort Inn. After we carried our bikes and gear up the stairs to our rooms on the second floor, we showered and "dressed up'' for dinner. That's when Dix discovered that he had an unwelcome pest along for the ride – a wood tick had attached itself to his neck and was about to bury its head in his flesh. It didn't faze him. He had experience with ticks; they are common where he grew up in New Jersey.
The best possibility for dinner was to walk or bike to The Anvil, a restaurant about six blocks away in the quaint town of Bolivar, adjacent to Harper's Ferry. For obvious reasons, we chose to walk. Since I had eaten there previously, I knew there would be plenty of good food in a pleasant atmosphere. After dinner, we walked back to the motel in a light rain.
It rained hard and steadily through the night until 8:30 a.m. We waited until the downpour stopped, delaying our departure until 9 a.m. By then, the towpath was a muddy mess, and we were behind schedule. It's hard to imagine what biking 60 miles in the mud is like, unless you've experienced it. Of course, we've been spoiled by the conveniences of paved streets and highways, but it really wasn't very long ago when getting muddy was a normal part of everyday travel.
Dix's engineering expertise came in handy that morning when a combination of the weight of his luggage and the shock resulting from riding over numerous potholes, rocks and tree roots resulted in the frame of his bike carrier breaking. His luggage was dumped in the mud. He was able to wrap his bike cable around his seat post and bike frame, locking the carrier in place. This temporary repair was completed with minimal delay.
We paused at the Monocacy Aqueduct, which carried the canal over the Monocacy River, to admire this beautiful white-granite structure. Although 11 aqueducts were built over the length of the canal, the Monocacy is the most impressive. Its 560-foot length is divided into seven 54-foot arches. Attempts by Confederate troops to blow it up during the Civil War were thwarted by the sturdy construction. To prevent its collapse, the National Park Service stabilized it in 1976. A major effort is currently under way to raise funds for permanent repairs to the aqueduct, preserving it for future generations.
GREAT FALLS TAVERN
No trip along the C&O Canal would be complete without a stop at Great Falls Tavern, just 14 miles from Washington, D.C. Attracted by the roar of the Potomac and rugged scenery, tourists have flocked to the Great Falls area ever since the canal was constructed. Great Falls serves as the main visitor center for the C&O Canal National Historic Park. Museum exhibits, historic photographs and short films tell the story of the canal. A mule-drawn canal boat, the Canal Clipper, offers passengers a ride into the past in a watered section of the canal.
We couldn't pass up an opportunity to have our picture taken in front of the Canal Clipper. Martin parked his bike on the towpath while taking the picture. Unfortunately, the soft ground gave way under the weight of the loaded bike, and it fell over and slid down the bank of the canal. Before anyone could react, the bike was already in the water and sinking fast. We couldn't believe our eyes. Martin dove to the ground and grabbed the handlebars just before they disappeared below the surface. The weight of the bike and the waterlogged gear was too heavy for one person to pull out, but he managed to hold on until the rest of us were able to grab it and help pull it back up to the towpath. Those bags may be waterproof, but not if they are totally submerged in water. Needless to say, Martin's gear was a little soggy, and it now weighed considerably more. We certainly entertained the other canal visitors and the nearby Civil War re-enactors.
The detour near the Old Angler's Inn awaited us. To avoid the rocky towpath, we had to climb two sets of stairs with bikes and gear, and descend a third set of stairs to return to the towpath. Georgetown was fast approaching. We made a rapid transition from peaceful solitude to busy city. Passing cyclists, walkers, joggers, kayakers and canoeists, we found ourselves in bustling downtown Georgetown. To reach our Arlington, Va., motel, we had to bike along crowded streets and cross the Key Bridge. Dead-tired and riding in eight lanes of heavy traffic, I knew I had to remain alert or risk being run over by a car. Fear provided the shot of adrenaline needed for the final mile.
The Motel 50 desk clerk was kind enough to find a hose to wash the majority of the mud off the bikes. Then, for the final time, we carried the bikes and equipment to our rooms on the second floor.
During dinner that evening at MacArthur's Cafe in Arlington, we reflected on our journey and celebrated its safe conclusion. There were no permanent injuries – only tired legs and sore rear ends. The four first aid kits were unused. The only casualties of the trip were two flat tires, a broken bike carrier, a broken headlight, two lost bike pumps and a broken pair of sunglasses.
The quantity and variety of wildlife encountered on the trip was extraordinary. There were deer, wild turkey, a porcupine, turkey vultures, great blue herons, a pileated woodpecker, squirrels (gray, red and black), wild geese and ducks. Most impressive was a family of three owls observed near Hancock. Our presence interrupted the flying lesson mom was giving baby owl.
Riding the C&O Canal was like riding back into history. The men who had the vision and skills necessary to complete a construction project of such magnitude deserve respect and admiration. The construction and operation of the canal was directly responsible for the development of new businesses and industries which supplied and supported its needs. It led to new ways of life for the canal boatmen, the lock keepers and their families. Even though its useful life was limited, the C&O provided a good living for several generations of canal families.
As the canal and its structures fell into increasing disrepair, a parkway was proposed to replace the towpath. Associate Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas championed its preservation. In 1954, he challenged pro-development newspaper editors to walk its length with him and to preserve this treasure. The canal was proclaimed a national monument in 1961 and named a national historic park in 1971. It started out as a dream of providing economical transportation between Washington and the west, and remains today as a pathway to history, nature and recreation.
