Great Allegheny Passage || Day 9 || 26.2 miles
- Date: June 22, 2022
- Start: Dravo’s Landing hiker-biker camp (GAP Mile 43.4)
- End: Point State Park, Pittsburgh, PA (GAP 148.8)
- Cumulative Distance: 333.5 miles
I woke around 11:30 pm last night to the sound of freight trains rumbling by Dravo’s Landing. That raucous noise was my signal to get up and put my rain fly onto my tent in the dark.
I knew if I didn’t do it now, I’d wake up seven hours from now with everything inside my tent covered in a layer of moist dew. That’s the downside of making camp in a grassy field. The last thing I wanted to deal with was a damp quilt, with all the down feathers clumping up in a moist ball.
It was a good thing it was a moonless night when I set about this task, because I was definitely too lazy to put on more clothes. I’d fallen asleep earlier in just my bra and underwear because of how hot it was when the sun when down. And even now, the air felt as if it was still in the 80s.
Despite my relative state of undress, it would only take me a few minutes to put on my rainfly. Why bother putting on more clothes? Everyone else at the hiker-biker camp was probably sound asleep. So, I unzipped my tent, and emerged half naked, and finished setting up my tent under the cover of darkness.
Then I was back inside my cocoon and slept soundly until 6:30 am this morning, when yet another train came rolling through blasting its horn to wake me for good.
Slow your roll
I lounged around camp for the next hour and half, with no good reason to hit the road. I only had 26 more miles to the end of my 335-mile journey. I could be done with the Great Allegheny Passage before lunch if I really wanted to push myself to ride the rest of the way in one swift stint.
But then what? The hotel where I had a reservation in downtown Pittsburgh wasn’t going to allow me check in to my room early. Better to just take it easy today.
So I made a plan to ride 18 miles to the suburb of Homestead, where I could get brunch at a local Panera Bakery just off the trail and then browse some books at the nearby Barnes & Noble in the same shopping center.
With ample time to waste this morning, I decided to wander down through the tall trees and bushes to check out the Youghiogheny River. I’d been so distracted by the potential “crime scene” here at the campground yesterday afternoon that I never taken the chance to go for a dip.
I might have been willing to go for a swim this morning too, but the riverbed looked awfully muddy and hundreds of little fish were pooling along the shores. Sigh. I’d wait until the hotel to bathe instead. At least there, I was guaranteed to come out clean and not have anything nibbling on my toes.
Volunteers Needed
As I rode out of camp, I knew the Great Allegheny Passage was about to transition, both in terms of its visual appeal and the road’s surface. I’d only have a few more miles of crushed limestone rail trail lined by tall trees left before the route took me into the paved and commercial urban outskirts of Pittsburgh.
So I made the most of the views this morning, savoring the flat smooth trail as it paralleled the flat, slow moving river.
Just a few miles north of the campground, I spotted signs for the Boston Trail, as this 15-mile stretch of the GAP is known locally. Then I breezed past Trail Maintenance Center with a giant sign informing prospective volunteers of when and where to meet.
What a fantastic way to get the word out! I’m always in favor of making it as easy as possible to encourage people to do trail maintenance. The more people who get involved with the trail community, the better the resources seem to be for everyone.
Three people were busy cutting back brush beside the trail in neon yellow t-shirts with “volunteer” printed on their backs. It wasn’t even Saturday yet (their official trail maintenance day). But here they were! Working hard before the sun got too warm. So I shouted a generous “thank you” in their direction as I passed each one.
Back to the asphalt
As I made my way to the edge of McKeesport, the trail transitioned into a paved bike lane, with some small hills and bridges that my tired legs were reluctant to climb.
After eight days and more than 300 miles of cycling, you’d think I’d feel stronger. But I just feel spent. This adventure hasn’t built me up. It’s just challenged my body to use groups of muscles that I tend to ignore. My knees felt weary. A cramp at the top of hamstring slowed my pace even more.
Then just as I was feeling the need to stop and take a rest, I was spit out onto a two-lane asphalt road, with nothing more than a narrow shoulder to ride on. I’d have to keep riding until I found someone more suitable to take a break.
Off to my right, a set of railroad tracks paralleled the paved road, and two train diesel engines hooked to each other started to move. Initially, the train’s pace was slow enough that I was able to catch up to the two engines and pace it for several hundred yards on the flat smooth roadway.
But even I’m not naïve enough to think I could beat a locomotive engine once it accelerated. One of the engineers smiled at me, them gave me a thumbs up before edging his speed up from 15 mph to something I’d never be able to keep up with, and he left me all by myself once again.
Urban sprawl
As I rode into the suburb of McKeesport, small signs directed me across the Youghiogheny River one final time before weaving through a network of random urban streets, past small parks, schools, and a fire station on its way toward the inevitable confluence of town’s two rivers.
From here on out, the remainder of my journey would follow the banks of the Monongahela River (or “the Mon”) as it fed me toward downtown Pittsburgh and the northern terminus of the Great Allegheny Passage.
Once I made my way across the Mon, I felt as it I’d been swallowed up by the parts of a city few tourists come to visit. The quiet, scenic GAP I’d known for nearly 140 miles was officially gone. The trail was now nothing more than a narrow swath of land sandwiched between a half dozen railroad lines and industrial storage yards.
Chain link fences were more abundant than trees. Workers in brightly colored safety vests and hard hats replaced the natural wildlife. And the rumbling noise of garbage trucks dominated the soundscape instead of the chirping of song birds.
This melee was how southbound cyclists experienced their first day riding the GAP, and I felt incredibly sorry for them. My journey – nine days ago- began in our nation’s capital while theirs went though what seemed more like an industrial wasteland.
The town of McKeesport gave way to suburb of Duquesne without any real signs that I’d left one town and joined the other. And then Duquesne merged into the suburb Homestead as continued to travel even further northwest.
I wouldn’t have even known about either of these urban transitions, but for my ride up and over the Port Perry Bridge that took me up 45 feet into the air and over the series of railroad tracks.
This rust-colored bridge was installed in a single day in July 2010 to provide a critical flyover of the Norfolk Southern and Union Railroad tracks. And a small laminated sign tacked up to the chain link fence informed me of the news. I was nearly to my scheduled lunch stop.
Homestead
As I rode toward the suburb of Homestead on the narrow asphalt path, I caught a few glimpses of the wide river off to my right here and there. I spotted a tug boat pushed a line of empty barges, and I wondered to myself what commodities these flat vessels held when they were full? Coal? Wheat? Corn?
The mercury was now creeping back up into the 90 degrees again. And another storm was supposed to be inbound this afternoon, but the hazy pale blue skies didn’t seem to hint at it. It seemed like just another hot summer day in the Northeast.
And then, before I knew it, I was riding into “The Waterfront” – a suburban shopping area in Homestead, PA, filled with popular restaurants and retail stores. This was where I planned to stop for lunch, and it was barely half past 10 in the morning.
Of course, the early hour meant I could splurge on brunch and I headed over to the local Panera where nobody would object if I lingered for several hours — drinking iced coffee and soaking up the shade from an umbrella on the outdoor patio.
As I enjoyed to familiar noises of families and daytime shoppers, I begin reflecting back on this journey, revisiting the highs and the lows.
I gave thanks to the cycling gods that my only flat tire occurred right before starting the trail. I didn’t have any major mechanical difficulties with my bicycle, despite the rain and mud. And for that I was eternally grateful.
I wonder if I’ll ever do another adventure like this one. Or how long it will take my sore butt to feel normal again. And then my mind drifted to how I was going to get my bike back home to Oregon.
I didn’t want to pay another ungodly amount of money to ship it back to the West Coast – especially when I could just fly with it as checked luggage on flight back home on Alaska Airlines. But I also had no desire to box my bike up or wrangle the unwieldy cardboard bike box from the car rental counter to the airline check-in counter either.
Ah… Just one more reason why I prefer backpacking to cycling. The logistics of getting your gear from point A to point B are so much simpler.
After three hours of lazing about at the Waterfront, I knew it was time to make the push to the finish line. Only 8 more miles to Point State Park, the peninsula where the Ohio, Allegheny, and Monongahela Rivers met in downtown Pittsburgh.
Point State Park
As I wound my way back toward the paved bike path, the black asphalt seemed to reflect the heat upward. I was baking in this 90-degree sunshine and breezeless day. My face felt like it was burning, but I didn’t want to stop and reapply my sunscreen. I wanted to just ride toward the tall, narrow sign announcing that I was finally entering Pittsburgh.
Those last miles seemed to fly by. I cycled past a water park where people with inflatable inter tubes tried to stay cool.
Then I cycled past the practice stadium for the Pittsburgh Steelers. Over the Monongahela at the Hot Metal Bridge and on to the opposite bank.
I cycled alongside the cars and pickup trucks whizzing down Interstate 376. Then I was following the GAP signs down a zigzagging ramp near the Smithfield Street Bridge where I could see the funicular car heading up one of Pittsburgh’s South Shore neighborhoods.
Finally, I could see the tip of the park and Fort Duquesne. I just needed to ride to the water’s edge. To that final point where I could ride no further. To the northern terminus of the GAP just beyond the giant circular fountain spraying water into the hot, humid air.
And then I was done.
I made it all the way to the end of this journey! I rode the full 335 miles from Washington, D.C. to Pittsburgh.
And while it wasn’t the most remarkable or memorable outdoor feat of my life, it was a completely new adventure.
I’d pushed myself outside my comfort zone just to check this crazy idea off my bucket list.
I’d fretted over the fear of flat tires. I’d made multiple stops at bike shops during my journey. And cleaned black chain lube off my legs each night. And I did my very best to keep my bike in working order so it would get me to this finish line.
And now, here I was!! Smiling and taking photos. Texting my family to let them know I’d made it. My epic journey was over and it was time to rest!
Highlights
- This adventure required some real personal growth. Cycling isn’t my strong suit, but I’m immensely proud of myself for seeing this journey through to its end.
- Point State Park more then made up for the lackluster scenery on the last 15-20 miles of the GAP. The fountain at the water’s edge and the sweeping Pittsburgh skyline were awesome!
- After my ride was over, I was lucky enough to visit with one my favorite people from my Appalachian Trail thru-hike – my pal Audrey who now lives in Pittsburgh!
Challenges
- Today was another hot, hot day, and those final miles through the concrete jungle felt like I was roasting. But it’s amazing what your body will do when you can taste the finish line, and I barely noticed the heat once I made it to the end!
- Although my journey is technically over, I still need to figure out how the heck I’m going to get my bike back home to the West Coast. Stay tuned for details on that that saga!