Shanksville wasn’t our destination, nor were we even planning to go by it, but on a beautiful September afternoon there it was. The sign on PA State Highway 31 said the town and the United Airlines Flight 93 memorial was four miles to our right.
Yesterday’s rain was over, our clothes were dry and the bikes oiled. We were all set for our first real mountain day of the trip.
We left tiny Hancock, MD and its intermittant internet for what we had been told was the metropolis of Cumberland and its relative urbane charm, a mere 40 miles down the road.
We gained a lot of elevation during the first five miles only to lose much or all of it moments later. Five hundred feet up, four ninety five down. In the hiking world such maneuvers are called PUDS or “pointless ups and downs.” After numerous repetitions we were already sick of it.
It would seem, given our recent experiences, that biking flat-free from Gettysburg, PA to Hagerstown, MD on the most flawless day of our trip would be sheer bliss. Right? Wrong.
York, PA had been a nice place. Friendly natives, a clean motel, plus a convenient bike shop only three miles from our abode. And we had needed it. Poor Mike was on his third flat in as many days, and he badly needed two new tires.
“You guys really biking to California?” the bike owner asked after seeing our ID as he rung up the tires.
“Not necessarily, just as far as we can get in six weeks,” Mike responded.
“Well you won’t be having any more tire trouble.”
“That’s the way we’d like it.”
Less than a day later, halfway to Gettysburg, my phone rang.
“I just had another $#@%& flat,” Mike angrily yelled in the phone.
On Sunday we thought we we’d take it easy. We’d meander 25 miles through Lancaster County, PA, ground zero of Amish Country, along a route from Morgantown over to the city of Lancaster. Then we ran into the rain.
Before we left California, the REI guy that alerted us to the special bike shipping deal, also whispered to us, “don’t leave home without ‘Chamois Glide.'” This product which comes in a deodorant bar-sized container, advertises itself as a: ‘no mess, invisible, saddle-sore-stopper.’ Both Mike and I bought bars, shipped them off to New York with the bikes and thought no more about it. Turns out our friend’s advice was sound.
Pennsylvania
Well George Washington did it, and Thursday afternoon Mike and I did as well. We crossed the Delaware River (from New Jersey into Pennsylvania.) After biking the nasty, pothole-ridden streets of one of Trenton’s gamier neighborhoods, we were thrilled with the relative tranquility of the Keystone State. Thirty minutes after crossing the river, we were cruising the byways of Bucks County, just outside Philadelphia.
To be continued.
Princeton
I’d never seen Princeton, NJ, and I’d always wanted to. As Mike and I left the New York area we had two choices on routes. The first had us following the Adventure Cycle Association strip maps that would take us into the boonies of western New Jersey to the Delaware River. Our option was to scratch the Princeton itch and go down the center of the state on numbered, secondary highways. Princeton won. Mike too had never seen the city, and since we had a family member in his senior year at the university, it was a slam dunk.
The First Day
The bike arrived, the bike arrived, the bike arrived.
Earlier today we got to REI at 3:30pm full of hope but with a healthy degree of trepidation, as we checked in with the bike repair attendant. “It’s here, but we haven’t unpacked it,” he said in a New York accent that told us he could really care less.
We frowned, hoping the bark/accent was worse than the bite.
“Okay, okay, I’ll try, maybe by 5:30, but no promises.”
The Last Night
Mike arrived Sunday afternoon at JFK after suitably cushy first class ride from LAX. That night we did some final planning, Labor Day we ran last minute errands in Manhattan and then walked back to my daughter Jennifer’s house in Brooklyn. It felt great to stretch our legs. Tomorrow morning we pack for the last time, with all the belongings we’re going to have for six weeks and take the train to the REI store. Everything else is hope.