Outside of school and anywhere I’ve lived, Pittsburgh is the place where I have spent the most time. Growing up, I visited my grandmother in Pittsburgh every Easter; we would decorate cookies and dye eggs, then sleep early the night before Easter so that the Easter Bunny could hide candy around the house. Most summers my brother and I would also take a trip to Pittsburgh for a week as a mini vacation. That’s what my mom called them, vacations. She never specified who the vacations were for.
So the beginning of this trip has been new; I’ve obviously never biked this far before. But it’s also felt weirdly normal, since Pittsburgh is our first big checkpoint. Seeing our little blue dot on Google maps get closer and closer to Pittsburgh has been incredibly exciting, not just because we know there is a bed and a shower waiting there for us, but really because I’m going back to my roots!
Today’s ride felt like we were getting close to Pittsburgh. The sprawling hills, packed with towering trees colored red, yellow, green, and brown - for moments I could picture sitting in the back of our forest green Honda Odyssey, reading a book as we crossed through the Squirrel Hill Tunnel on hour six of the drive.
Where the C+O trail was a picture perfect springtime portrait, the GAP today was all autumn. Crisp, mid-50s, you could practically smell the apple orchards and hot apple cider. We climbed for the first 3.5 hours, up a gentle grade that wasn’t painful, but slowed us to a measly 6.5mph. For the first 15 miles, railroad tracks circled the mountains alongside us, before leaving us to cross the summit alone. We met a man early in our ride. He proudly announced that he owned 20 acres of land up around mile 11, and he had just recently turned 80. At mile 11 we took a moment to admire his 20 acres, and then spotted our path over the mountain, miles away across the valley, tucked in next to the 9th wind turbine from the left. It was very high above us.
Just before we hit the peak we crossed back over the Mason Dixon line into Pennsylvania. Maryland, you treated us well, but we will not be returning. Onwards!
Crossing the Eastern Continental Divide at the peak was the best feeling in the world. There was one of those “You are here” signs. The red pin was at the tippy-top of a mountain. All downhill to Pittsburgh. From there we cruised into the small town of Meyersdale, PA, where we stopped at a trail side station to grab an ice cream sandwich and a strawberry shortcake ice cream pop. It was like we were right back in elementary school at the ice cream truck. There were 40 miles to Ohiopyle, our goal destination for the day. It was 2:30, plenty of time.
At the stop in Meyersdale we bumped into a friendly couple that told us the campground at Ohiopyle would be up a steep hill, steep enough we’d probably have to push our bikes. No problem, we said, we’ve practiced.
From there we coasted all the way into Ohiopyle, the beautiful Youghiogheny River alongside us the entire way. The water was an arctic blue, and looked like it would be the perfect place to take a swim in the summer. The only hiccup was when Maddie ran directly into a pole. This was an ordinary pole, not doing much of anything, just hanging out in the middle of the path, to divert cars from entering off the road. It did a pretty good job of diverting Maddie as well, as she didn’t realize quite how wide her panniers were. She took a hard tumble but popped right back up with a whoop. Her pannier took the brunt of the impact; the clips got ripped off. A quick tape job and some maneuvering and we were back on the road in no time.
Even after the fall, we both agreed, today was probably our favorite yet. Our bodies were feeling good, it had been a beautiful ride, and no major downers had popped up. Knock on wood.
In Ohiopyle we met up with my friend, Jack Maltby and his roommate, Billy. Jack and I have known each other since the day we were born. We got some pizza at Paddler’s Pizza, one of 4 restaurants in town. It’s always great to see a friend, and even more so at the end of a grueling day of biking.
After dinner we headed out for the campsite, which Google maps said was a couple miles around the bend. While it was strange that a campsite often used by bikers would be a couple-mile ride from the trail, we were prepared for the climb because the couple in Meyersdale warned us. We got about a mile up when we realized something was horribly wrong. Two girls drove by us, visibly laughing at our predicament. We were still miles from the campsite and the top of the hill was nowhere in sight. Thankfully our guardian angel appeared in the form of a generous man named Brett. He threw our bikes in his pickup truck and drove us over to the campsite. Without him we’d probably still be wandering the hills of Ohiopyle. (Maddie got in the pickup first, and for a second I was concerned this was some sort of kidnapping plot. Then I realized she’d probably get the better end of the stick if she got taken and left me stranded on the road, so I quickly threw my bike in his truck and hopped in).
As it turns out, the hill up to the campsite we had been warned about was another mile down the trail. It is not very steep, and not very long, as the park ranger explained to us. We look forward to using it tomorrow morning.
We are now here in campsite number 25 at Ohiopyle State Park campground. We arrived just before the dark completely erased any daylight. We each got a warm shower and a nice patch of dirt to pitch a tent. We are safe and sound, ready to take on the final leg before Pittsburgh tomorrow. Grandma’s house, here we come.
-Charlie
432.6 Miles ridden
40ish Rx and Lara bars consumed (we love bars)