C&O Canal Tow Path, PA to VA
The town of Cumberland, Maryland has seen better days. Once home to the second largest population in Maryland, its downtown area turned pedestrian-friendly mall features far too many darkened store fronts with “for lease” signs, victims of a troubled economy and an unpredictable future.
It was the Saturday night before Thanksgiving, and the streets were quiet except for a handful of workers fumbling with a tangle of lights preparing for next weekend’s holiday parade. With me was my close friend and fellow weekend adventurer Barry Lawson. We were in search of a cold beer and a hot meal before beginning our three-day bike trek down the C & O Canal trail which scribbles its way for 184.5 miles from Cumberland to the Georgetown area of Washington, D.C.
The “C” and “O” of the C&O Canal trail stands for Chesapeake and Ohio even though the trail doesn’t tactually touch The Chesapeake Bay or enter into the State of Ohio, for that matter. The trail followed the tow-path mules plodded along while pulling barges on the canal. This was the primary means of moving goods in this part of the country in the early 1800’s until the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad eventually put the canal out of use.
The original plan was to build the network in two sections: the eastern section from the Potomac River to Cumberland and the western section over the Allegheny mountains where it would connect with Ohio river or other tributaries. Only the eastern part was completed due to budget over runs. What’s left today is a solidly constructed, packed dirt and gravel tow path bordering the canal. In some places, the canal looked like nothing more than a wide, overgrown ditch. However, in many places it looked like it could be put back in commission at a moment’s notice.
For our journey, we planned to cover roughly 60 miles a day with overnight stays in Hancock, Maryland and Harpers Ferry, West Virginia before making our way to Arlington, Virginia some three miles from the canal’s southern terminus in Georgetown. On our backs, light packs. Under our butts, mountain bikes. And in front of us, miles upon miles of trail and an increasingly angry low pressure system spitting showers.
The trail started mere pedal strokes from the parking lot of a typical looking Fairfield Inn and Suites hotel parking lot. “This is a piece of cake,” said Barry commenting on the trail’s flat, relatively smooth surface. Almost immediately, we saw mile marker “184,” and we were on our way to “0.” The upside of mile markers is they tell you where you are. The downside is they tell you how far you still have to go. Luckily today, our goal was mile post 124.4 at Hancock, Maryland or about 60 miles.
For the entire ride, the canal or what’s left of it was off to our left. During a twenty-five year period during the early to mid-1800s, laborers sweated, dug, and likely cussed their through dirt and rock to build the canal. Seventy-four locks (24 with lock houses still standing) were strategically placed along the route. The locks made navigation easier because the terrain undulates. There’s a 605 foot elevation gain from Georgetown in the east to Cumberland, Maryland in the west. The locks made towing a heavy barge through water by grumpy mules almost bearable. Almost.
The scenery remained the same for most of the day: a straight flat path under a dwindling canopy of hearty trees. Leaves crunched beneath our tires. Calm winds whispered. The sky was concrete grey and heavy with moisture. We didn’t say much. I was content with the silence and lost in thought. Barry seemed the same. It was meditation on the move.
After about six hours, we pulled into Hancock, Maryland and the River Run B&B slightly winded, mentally relaxed, and extremely hungry. River Run was a lemon yellow, three-story, five bedroom home overlooking the canal, the Potomac River and the state of West Virginia. It provided complimentary bike storage and a welcoming hostess. She greeted us with a smile and told us we’re the only guests for the night because the place shuts down in the winter. After a quick change from bike gear to walkabout gear, we grabbed a bite at Weaver’s Restaurant and Bakery. I had the hamburger steak with warm beef gravy and baked potato the size of a toy football.
Day two occasionally hugged I-70 with its constant hum of highway noise, but there was a nice diversion along the way. At mile post 112, we coasted into Fort Frederick State Park whose mid-eighteen century stone fort served as Maryland’s frontier defense during the French and Indian War and later a POW camp during the Revolutionary War. Inside its eighteen foot high, three feet thick walls were two, two-story long white barracks that offered a glimpse into fort life in the 1700 and 1800s. The park now also has a boat launch, campsites, visitor center, interpretive and educational programs (evidently not offered in late November) as well as nicely manicured, leaf-free, green lawns about the fort. We briefly considered a side trip after departing Fort Frederick: a 22 mile loop accessible at mile marker 76 that winds through Antietam Battlefield. We skipped that because a barrage of rain started to attack our right flank.
We rode through pelting showers into Shepherdstown, WV. In town, cars jockeyed for parking spots, honked a few times, and we found temporary shelter in Lost Dog Coffee Shop. Barry proclaimed its new name should be “ Soggy Biker Coffee Shop.” We leaned out bikes against the brick wall out front, fastened our helmets to our handlebars, and entered a world of warmth. I felt bad about clomping across its hardwood floor in cycling shoes. We dripped water, creating a small stream toward to the counter. Surprisingly, we were welcomed with happy hellos and questions about our trip. Clearly, we weren’t the first cyclists to sip a cup or two here. Unfortunately, we couldn’t enjoy the comforts of hot coffee, buttered scones and friendly faces for long because it was pushing 4:30, and it was still twelve miles to Harpers Ferry. Approaching darkness and angry grumbles of thunder tried to persuade us to retreat back into the Lost Dog. We ignored the warnings and slogged on.
I was looking forward to touring the historic town of Harpers Ferry which sits at the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers. Lewis and Clark began their famed expedition here. It was also the site of three civil war battles, countless floods, and John Brown’s raid of 1859, where abolitionists tried to start a slave revolt by seizing the United States Arsenal there. It didn't end well for John Brown. He was eventually captured, tried for treason and hung.
In Harpers Ferry, all I saw were dark, wet streets poorly lit by my battery-starved bike light. The last mile was the hardest; a relentless hill made all the more challenging because we were soaking wet, achy, cold, tired and hungry. Complaining doesn’t increase pedal cadence or VO2 max. If anything, it sucks your strength and reduces you to staring at the top tube of your bike and dreaming about comfy couches, bottomless bags of tortilla chips and free Netfilx, not necessarily in that order.
Barry found a manageable and successful breathing rhythm of deep, snotty inhales through the nose followed by guttural exhales from the mouth — a possessed version of the little train that could. I asked him if he was good, and as expected, his response was “you good?” We’ve always had this healthy and competitive banter during adventure races, road races and summit conquests. Suffering is best shared amongst close friends. Bouts with weakness occur but are never acknowledged. Never.
We found Laurel Lodge B & B and approached the front door looking like we spent the last four hours lost at sea, without a life raft. In a hurricane. And, ravaged by sea creatures who had it out for middle aged men in tight fitting, black cycling pants. On the stoop of the Laurel Lodge, we casted shadows of puddles. Mud tattooed our legs, arms and faces — a bad Halloween costume a month too late. We rang the door bell and fully expected to be told that “You boys need to saddle up and head out of town” but the proprietor greeted us at the door, told us where to park our bikes and offered us hot tea from a serving station inside the foyer. I almost hugged him. Almost.
He showed us to our room upstairs and told us put our wet clothes in a bag so he could launder them while we went to dinner. I’ve stayed in countless hotels and B&Bs in the past, but this was the first time free laundry services were offered. We found Mena’s Pizzeria & Italian Restaurant, a four-minute walk down the hill. We both opted for the lasagna, a brick-sized stack of noodles, cheese, meat, sauce, repeat. When we left, the rain was more like a soft mist. Fog creeped in. Street lights looked like they were suspended in mid air. We returned to Laurel Lodge to hot tea, freshly made cookies, and folded laundry. I was tempted to end the trip right then and there.
Pedaling through history and torrential rains on the C&O Trail with Barry Lawson.
Morning came as did the rain. So, we procrastinated over coffee, cheese danish, fresh fruit and spinach frittata. The last day was a blur. Evidently, a mild case of hypothermia can do that to a person. We biked 59 long and sloppy miles through leaf-strewn puddles the color and temperature of ice tea. Rain hitting bike helmets sounds like machine gun fire. Stopping was a double edge sword. It was good to refuel and stretch, but any stop lasting longer than five minutes caused teeth to chatter and muscles to cramp. Gortex had its limits.
I envisioned our arrival in Georgetown to be under warm, autumn skies where we would pedal victoriously into some an outdoor café and celebrate our ride with frosty beers, calorie-infused hard to pronounce appetizers served by admiring waitresses. Instead the rain never abated as we dodged commuters and horn-honking cabbies for the last three miles uphill to Arlington. I kept my head down and unsavory words to myself and just pedaled like I’ve had for the past three days. Crossing the Key Bridge into Arlington reminded me of the ice bucket challenge. Cold rain dumped. It was almost laughable. Almost.
Finally, we pulled into Barry’s driveway, tired, proud and dripping. Sometimes less than ideal conditions make for more than ideal memories. Life is about new experiences, some good, some bad. It’s what fuels the soul and makes travel rewarding, come rain or shine.
Where to Stay:
Cumberland, Maryland:
Fairfield Inn & Suites. 21 North Wineow Street. Visit Marriot.com. or call. 1-301-722-0340.The C&O canal is right out the back door. Free continental breakfast.
Hancock, Maryland:
River Run B&B. 7 South Taney Street. For reservation call between 9 a.m. and 6 p.m. EST – 301-678-6150 or email riverrunbnb@verizon.net. Overlooks the C&O Canal.
Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. Sadly, Laurel Lodge has closed. Visit Jefferson County Visitors Bureau or call 1-866-HELLO WV