C&O Canal Towpath || Day 4 || 40.2 miles
- Date: June 17, 2022
- Start: Hancock, MD (C&O Mile 124.4)
- End: Potomac Forks hiker-biker camp (C&O Mile 164.8)
- Cumulative Distance: 164.8 miles
I had mixed feelings about the hotel I stayed at in Hancock, Maryland last night.
On one hand, the gal at the front desk yesterday was super accommodating. She let me spray off my insanely muddy bike with one of the hotel’s hoses, and she even gave me an old towel to wipe it down when I was done. That level of kindness and bike-friendliness was a major bonus.
But this morning’s breakfast buffet (if you can call it that) was definitely a bust. They were completely out of coffee by the time I got to the lobby at 7 a.m. There was no real food to speak of either – just a few sugary mini muffins and some lonely oatmeal packets with no hot water or way to cook them. The hotel rooms didn’t even have a coffee maker in them either! This was a huge disappointment.
I’m not traveling with a stove on this trail, so I was really, really looking forward to ample access to coffee while I was staying in town. But the lack of amenities at the hotel meant I had to walk down to the Sheetz gas station/convenience store in town to get coffee and a bagel sandwich there instead.
Lucky for me, I really enjoy Sheetz coffee. I’m not going to weigh in on the Sheetz vs. Wawa debate (because I’m still in Maryland, not Pennsylvania), but let’s just say I was definitely able to feed the beast that is my coffee addiction.
Western Maryland Rail Trail
By the time I was ready hit the road this morning, it was already in the low 80’s outside and well on its way to another scorching hot, humid day. It’s not even technically summer yet — the official first day of summer is still four more days away — but I felt like I was absolutely melting.
I strolled through the lobby with my bike feeling a bit self-conscious, because who brings a fully-loaded bicycle indoors? But I didn’t want to risk leaving it outside overnight in the middle of a city. If someone stole or vandalized it, I’d be in a world of hurt. I still had 200+ miles left to ride, and I wasn’t taking any chances.
The front desk clerk smiled at me and commented on the raging heat, then he suggested I ride the Western Maryland Rail Trail (or WMRT) this morning to take advantage of the shaded and paved route.
The WMRT parallels the C&O for the next 15 miles up to Little Orleans, so it would have been easy enough to follow his advice and ride on nice smooth asphalt under the canopy of tall trees. But I didn’t come out here to ride that particular linear trail. I came out here to do the C&O, so that was what I intended to do.
The first feet hundred feet of the C&O was super scenic too. The water in the canal was covered with lily pads and pond flowers blooming on nearly every third one. What a wonderfully enchanting scene!
But the flora was pretty much where the delight ended. The trail was still quite muddy from yesterday’s heavy rainstorm and there were tons of downed branches littering the trail.
Many of the tree limbs were only the diameter of a broom stick and a mere nuisance. But other times, the trail would be completely blocked by a fallen tree in my path forcing me to lift my bike over its entire trunk.
I spent the next few hours dodging and weaving through the debris and a small fraction of my soul wished I’d listened to the hotel desk clerk and just taken the easy way out and hit the paved rail trail instead. I could see the WMRT lining the opposite side of the canal, and it didn’t appear to be anywhere near as cluttered with the storm’s detritus.
As I cycled west along the Potomac, sweat rolled down my spine and began dripping into my butt crack. What a ridiculous adventure this was. I’d showered last night, but barely an hour in and I already felt grimy and gross, and as if I needed another shower ASAP.
Progress was slow through the obstacle course of fallen trees this morning, but the one motivation spurring me onward on was my desire to get to Little Orleans. Once there, I could get a tall glass of iced tea and some salty French fries or maybe even a cold beer at Bill’s Place – a little bar and grill right off the trail that catered to cyclists and locals alike.
A change of plans
Around mile 127, I passed some stone arches and ruins of the old Round Top Cement Mill. This historical mill once produced cement to build the Washington Monument and the U.S. Capitol building. But devastating fires in 1848, 1897, and 1903, and then having to financially compete with the abundance of Portland Cement (a slower drying and more durable material) eventually forced the mill to close its doors.
All that remained of the old mill were the arches from the eight lime kilns, and tall chimney, and some listing brick walls that looked like they’d definitely seen better days. But at least it was something new and unusual to grab my attention on this warm morning, and it wasn’t something I’d have seen if I’d taken the paved WMRT.
About an hour later, I reached mile 140, near the 15-mile creek aqueduct and park. I’d finally made it to the road junction with Bill’s Place. All that was left was to ride the short, steep road up from the towpath to the restaurant.
As I stood to pedal the grueling 100 yards uphill, I was desperate for a cold drink. I was sweating buckets and I could already taste the iced tea I planned to order to cool myself down from the insane heat.
Unfortunately, I was in for a disappointing surprise. As I came to a stop in front of Bill’s Place, a small, hand-printed sign was taped to one of the window panes on the entrance door. The restaurant, which normally opened at 11 a.m. from Thursday through Sunday, was still closed. They weren’t opening until 2 p.m. today!
In that moment if felt as if the cycling gods were punishing me. It was so beastly hot out here, and I was so looking forward to some air-conditioning and a cold drink. But I wasn’t going to sit around for another two hours waiting for it. I guess I’d just have to keep going until the next hiker-biker camp and scrounge some lunch from my food bag instead.
Devil’s Alley
Five miles later, I reached the Devil’s Alley hiker-bike camp right on the banks of the Potomac. The campground was sunk about 20 feet below the trail, and there was only this one point in ingress or egress and it was currently blocked by an empty white pickup truck with Government plates.
The driver’s poor parking job forced me to uncomfortably maneuver my bike around its rear end, barely squeezing through the narrow opening between a leafy tree and the truck’s rear bumper. Then I walked my bike down to the grassy picnic area below.
The mosquitos were swarming around me as I leaned my bike up against a tree, and I quickly figured my best bet was to set up my tent for lunch, since I planned to take a solid hour just to lay in the shade and cool off. My mesh tent (sans the rainfly) would give me a comfy spot in which to sprawl out and hopefully keep me from getting eaten alive by all the insects during my break.
As soon my tent was set up in the soft grass, the next order of business was to find the water pump to finally quench my thirst. I spent a solid minute pumping its creaky arm up and down without much of anything happening, and just when I was ready to give up, a steady stream of well water came sputtering out of the pump’s spout.
Much to my disappointment though, the cold water had a rusty brownish hue. It looked like that iced tea I’d wanted from Bill’s Place, but I knew better. All the wells along the C&O were supposed to be treated with iodine, and the discolored water might actually be safe to drink, but this didn’t seem appetizing in the least.
So I moved on to “plan B.” I grabbed my water filter to went down to the edge of the Potomac River to fill my two water bottles with some cold, clear water before retreating to the mesh-walled protection of my lunchtime retreat.
A half dozen cyclists riding in the opposite direction passed by as I lay in the shade enjoying the breezy afternoon and scrounging through the limited choices in my food bag. I was only carrying about a day’s worth of food and it was mostly just snacks.
I’d been counting on Bill’s Place as my lunchtime stop and hadn’t packed much food out of Hancock. So I ate the meal I’d saving for tonight’s dinner, and I mentally adjusted my riding plans to make an unscheduled town stop in Paw Paw, West Virgina, later today to pick up a bit more food.
Near the end of my midday break, I heard some voices and then the metallic sound of the heavy doors of the Government pickup truck being opened and slammed shut. I lifted my head to see what was going on just in time to see a pair of National Park Service employees driving off and driving up the towpath in the same direction I’d soon be heading.
I guess that was my signal that break time was over. Time to get back up to the trail while I had a clear, vehicle-free path going up to it. I broke down my tent, packed everything away while swatting at the thick swarm of mosquitoes, and mounted my bike to set off again in the now 90-degree afternoon.
Within a few minutes, I saw the white pickup truck again. This time, it was driving extremely slow ahead of me, before coming to a stop near a storm-damaged tree.
Ahhhh. Now I got it. These folks were out here doing a bit of trail maintenance to cut away branches and trunks blocking the way ahead. As I rode by, I gave the crew a little wave and a thank you. Then I stopped to watch as one of them pulled a massive saw out from the back of the pickup truck’s bed and got down to business — clearing the path in the aptly-named Devil’s Alley!
Paw Paw Tunnel
As I continued riding on the shaded trail, I knew I’d have one more challenge to deal with today – the Paw Paw Tunnel at mile 155. This 3,118-foot tunnel is one of the most significant engineering features on the C&O Canal Towpath.
Construction began in 1836, and it took 14 long years to tunnel through the steep ridge named “Tunnel Hill” just outside of the town of Paw Paw, West Virginia. Labor issues, violence, funding shortfalls, and the difficulty of boring through the shale rocks seemed to plague the lengthy project.
Repairs on the tunnel had recently closed the tunnel to pedestrian and bicycle traffic back in 2017, and I was really hoping to get to ride through it on this trip. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be.
The Paw Paw Tunnel was open this summer, but the C&O Towpath to the south of it was still being repaired from a recent landslide. So, I would need to bypass the one mile leading through the tunnel using a 1.5-mile detour in the woods.
This was no ordinary detour either. The bypass went up and over the arduous, steep mountain that the Paw Paw Tunnel went through, and it used a regular hiking path that forced riders to dismount and push their bikes up it.
The cyclist I’d met back at White’s Ferry on the first day of my journey told me all about this arduous hike-a-bike challenge. And just to compound this obstacle’s difficulty, I was going to encounter it at the very hottest part of the day.
Pushing a fully-load bicycle uphill is never fun. But luckily, I packed much lighter than some of my counterparts. As I slowly slogged up makeshift detour up the steep hill, I saw another cyclist stopped in the middle of the trail resting. His back rose and fell with the effort of catching his breath, and I could see he was pulling a bike trailer completely loaded down with heavy gear.
The National Park Service warned cyclists it might take up to 1 to 1.5 hours to ascend and descend the gravel and dirt bypass depending on their fitness and how much weight their bike was carrying. So I went into this challenge with that estimate in the back of my mind.
All told though, this dismounted challenge up and over the ridge was actually a bit easier than I’d been expecting, and it only took me about a half hour to complete. I’d mentally built it up to be as steep as parts of the Appalachian Trail, but it wasn’t nearly that bad. Or maybe I was just naturally better at hiking (even with a bike in tow) than cycling.
Once I got to the very top, I was treated to expansive views across the river to the town of Paw Paw. Then I spent the majority of the descent white knuckling my brakes. I didn’t want to lose control of my bike on the narrow, root-covered trail or down the slippery slopes to my left side.
More misery
Before I knew it, I was back on the C&O Towpath again, where I’d take the additional 2.2 roundtrip miles into the tiny town of Paw Paw (population: 709).
Given it’s diminutive size, I wasn’t really expecting much from Paw Paw though. My online research back at the hotel last night showed the only businesses in town were a gas station, Dollar General, and a bar. I pointed my front tire toward the small gas station with hopes that I’d find something better to resupply with than just potato chips and soda.
As it turns out, the gas station had a very well-stocked convenience store with lots of healthy (and unhealthy) choices for resupplying my feed bag. Plus, they had a hot deli where and I was able to score an early dinner from the grill along with a tall can of cold beer to pack out to enjoy at camp tonight.
What bounty! Now all I had left to do was ride the final seven miles to the hiker-biker camp I’d selected for the evening.
As I returned to the C&O Towpath in the heat of the early evening, my left knee started acting up. Every pedal stroke was painful, but I had no idea what was going on with my knee. I’d adjusted my seat in Paw Paw, and it was definitely high enough for my leg to fully extend. Maybe this searing pain was a consequence of the hike-a-bike up and down the steep Paw Paw tunnel bypass.
Then my sit bones began to throb, and I had to constantly stand and shift in my saddle to relieve the pressure. My adjustments never really got rid of the nagging pain, and every mile started to feel as if it was taking longer and longer to ride
About two-and-a-half miles from my campground, I had the subconscious thought that this day couldn’t possibly get more uncomfortable. I must had jinxed myself though. Because just then, a steady headwind stated blowing – and the unnecessary resistance kept up until I got to camp.
Oh, for crying out loud! Were the cycling gods trying to kill me today?
When I finally rode into the Potomac Forks hike-biker camp, I was so physically spent that I just wanted to collapse into my tent. But first, I wanted to go soak in the Potomac River — letting the cool water alleviate the pain in my knee and lower body and rinsing away the dried salt and sweat caking my body.
But, I was sorely disappointed for what seemed like the 10th time today.
Unlike the Devil’s Alley campground where I stopped for lunch, there was absolutely no access to the Potomac River here. A thick forest of trees and impenetrable brush stood between me and the water, and even if I worked my way though the foliage by sheer willpower, the river was down a 30-foot high embankment of loose rocks. It was a losing proposition any which way I looked at it.
I surveyed the narrow campground, which was bisected by a canal lock with sloping hillsides. The only water available to soak in here was the stagnant frog-laden swamp in the canal (hard pass, thank you!) or whatever little bits I could muscle out of the nearby water pump (sigh!)
About an hour after I set up my tent, another cyclist (headed in the opposite direction) stopped to make camp too. He wandered around for 5-10 minutes looking for a good spot to set up his hammock, but never seemed to find one.
This particular hiker-biker camp was shaded by trees and brush, but none of the trees were close enough for him to hang his hammock. He’d have to continue on the next one another 2.7 miles up the trail and try his luck there instead.
As he bid me goodbye, he pointed out a four-foot rat snake laying in the grass over by my bike. Wow! That guy hadn’t been here when I was setting up my tent! One more gift from the cycling gods. At least I didn’t discover him and get startled as I was making my way to the port-a-potty, I guess.
I think I’ll drink that beer now and just go to sleep now! Today has been a rough one.
Highlights
- Beginning today’s ride with the water lilies beside the towpath made for a beautifully scenic start in Hancock.
- The downed tree branches and mud definitely made a bit of cycling challenge, but at least the National Park Service already had crews out clearing the trail from yesterday’s storm.
- I was pleasantly surprised by the little convenience store in Paw Paw. It wasn’t anything to truly special, but it was far more than I’d expected on this difficult day.
Challenges
- Today was a physically hard day. Between the 90-degree heat, hiking my bike over the Paw Paw tunnel, and all the little aches and pains, I was completely wore out!
- Discovering Bill’s Place was closed until 2 p.m. today was a minor blow to the morale. Thank goodness I had enough food in my panniers to make a decent lunch.