First Tour, Day 1

Saturday morning, I had the bikes all loaded, including some...what has been termed ‘Euro-style’... packing arrangements using bungee cords.  Karyn was set to drive us to our launch point, but took umbrage to the idea that I was going to put both the bikes on her Jeep's hitch rack loaded as they were. 

“You can’t put those loaded like that on my Jeep!”

“Why?”

“They’re too heavy.”

“Your hitch is designed for a trailer, the tongue weight is way less than that of a trailer.”

“They’re going to make my Jeep lopsided.”

“What?”

“I have a vagina.”

After unpacking the bikes and loading up the Jeep.  We made it to our start point at Fletcher’s Boat house (about 3 miles from the start of the C&O Trail) by about 1015. 

It took a little bit to get used to the handling of a loaded bike.  My bike, empty, was just under 40 lbs (Trek 520 with three cages, pedals, and rear rack).  With 2x2400ci panniers, sleeping mat, tent, sleeping bag, 3 water bottles, and a bell, it was weighing in over 80lbs (Though it could have been anywhere between 80 and 100).  Also, with most of that weight in the rear (so to speak), the front becomes almost too light and skids out easier than you might imagine.  Wheelies and reverse endos are surprisingly easy.

We really didn’t have any idea what kind of speed we’d make, though we were hoping for 11-12 mph average rolling speed.  At first we were making that, but as the surface of the trail gave way from hard-packed gravel to mud, we lost a lot of that speed and ended up pulling an average of just over 10mph for the day.  Which still isn’t bad.  We ran into a detour at the 9.4 mile mark, due to construction, that pushed us off the C&O and onto a sort of walking trail above the river.  This trail wasn’t well suited for a loaded bike…it was hella bumpy and slow going, but we were only on it about a mile so whatever.  The problem came at the end of the detour.

We had to go down some wooden steps, and across this bridge over the canal that went around a lock house.  To get back down to the C&O, we had to then traverse a long flight of steep wooden steps.  Not an easy task with a bike loaded the way these were.  I managed to control my bike walking it down, but I think if there’d been two more steps Athena would have lost it.  It was close.

We stopped at great falls for a lunch break.  One interesting aspect of this sort of endeavor is the interactions with other people.  I’d say it was partly due to the fact that we were going camping in January, but given how warm the day was, I don’t think it was a significant notion in people’s minds.  People find what you’re doing very interesting.  It’s not so much a ‘I can’t believe you would do that.’ sort of thing as it is a general curiosity.  While we were eating, a couple of families stopped to talk to us; asked us where we were headed and checked out the bikes, etc.  Depending on where you’re from, this may seem like no big deal, but out here in MD, where you barely get any kind of acknowledgement that you exist by the person at the checkout register, it’s a big deal.  People just generally stay out of each other’s way and lives here.

Of course, I took the opportunity of a visitor’s center to poop.  I think it’s safe to say that you should always poop when a good opportunity presents itself, and the next one may be far down the path.  I am a pooper of opportunity. 

As we headed north from Great Falls, the number of couples, families, old people, dogs, unattended children, and creepy people running in jeans dropped off dramatically as we moved into more wildernessy country.  It’s important to note that in MD, wilderness is any area of land wherein you can pivot 360 degrees and not see a building, cell tower, or discarded condom.   The trail out here also gets less care.  Very heavy bikes meet mud.  Mud meet Athena.  Athena begins to rage.

Our speed began dropping off dramatically.  In fact, I was able to devise a mathematical formula: 

R∝((tm²) (√v(μ))  Where R = Rage (Of Athena), t = time, m= mud and v = velocity.  

So, Athena’s rage is proportional to the time of mud travel, times mud squared times the square root of the proportional average of velocity.  After 2 and a half hours of our tires sinking over an inch into the mud, Athena’s rage had reached critical levels.   She was not…a happy Pickle. 

We had originally, and mind you without any data to back up this assertion, hoped to make it as far as a hiker/biker campground about 2 miles beyond Harpers Ferry.  At 3 O’clock, it became apparent that based on our current speed and Athena’s rising urge to kill, we weren’t going to make it as far we’d thought.  And that was fine, it was an arbitrary destination to begin with.  So we made it as far as Point of Rocks, MD where there was a nice h/b campsite with a table and a toilet.

We pitched camp, no big deal there, ate our dinner by a fire, played some cards and watched a video on the iPhone.   It  was nice to get off the bikes and comfortable.  I had noticed when we stopped that there were some train tracks about 30 yards from our camp.  I mentioned to Athena we’ll probably hear a train or two in the night, and we laughed.  I had also made a mistake in my estimation that “there were some train tracks about 30 yards from our camp.” 

The truth was this:  There was a railed transportation, multi-track juggernaut capable of bending light waves and operated by Usama Bin Ladin’s dick ghost about 30 yards from our camp.  Oh, and it was also ill tempered.  We counted no less than 15 trains through the night.  Since there was also a boat ramp with a track crossing about ¼ mile from us, every…single…train blew its whistle for what seemed like 35 minutes as they passed our little tent.  Incidentally, tent fabric does nothing to mitigate angry train noises.  Both of us were turning the air blue at one point or another as we would just be getting a period of actual sleep in between tossings and turnings just to have it interrupted by another…god…damn…train.

It was also cold, but that wasn’t a big deal.  We managed.

The evening and the morning were the first day.