There are walls of trees in western Ohio. The trees are huge and imposing, towering over the corn and wheat fields. At first, I thought they were along rivers or creeks, but I didn’t cross any water as I passed through the trees. They may be windbreaks, but they were about a quarter mile wide, which seems a bit excessive if that was their only purpose.
There was a headwind again today. It was not too strong, just enough to keep me dry in the 80% plus humidity. Who would choose to live somewhere with 80% humidity. Most cross-country cyclists ride from the west coast to the east coast. They say it is because of the prevailing wind. I didn’t buy it before I left. I may have been wrong. Headwinds may haunt me for the next few weeks.
The terrain has really flattened out today. A headwind this morning kept me from really upping my speed, however. Today’s ride took me through Marion, the home town of President Warren G. Harding.
I really don’t have much to say about today. I just pedaled. I am kind of threading my way between Columbus and the cities along Lake Erie. The small towns are spread out just about the right distance to take a short break every 10-15 miles.
Today, I rode through Ohio’s Amish country. What I know about the Amish I learned from television and movies. That’s probably not the best source of information. I did see a few buggies along the shoulders of the highway, and quite a bit of horse manure. However, I also saw some driving tractors and even pick-ups. That surprised me. Judging by the names of various businesses, there are also a lot of Yoders. On the shoulders, you can tell where the horses walk and where the buggy wheels roll by how rough or smooth the asphalt is.
Berlin, OH, seemed to be the center of tourism in the Amish country. At least, the city was busy with tourists today. There were Amish furniture, craft and food stores. Buggy rides were available for tourists from a few places. I did stop at one shop when I saw a sign saying it had more than 50 flavors of fudge. Many of the flavors were expected, like chocolate-peanut butter. Others were very creative, like caramel apple. I should have bought the caramel apple; how often am I going to get the chance to try caramel apple fudge. But, I stayed with the mundane and got some chocolate-peanut butter.
It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them. Thus you remember them as they actually are, while in a motor car only a high hill impresses you and you have no such accurate remembrance of the country you have driven through as you gain by riding a bicycle. – Ernest Hemingway.
I stopped at a library on my way through Burgettstown, PA. While I was still by my bicycle, a little boy of about five or six years old yelled out, “Can I talk to you?” I said, “Sure.” He then told me I can’t ride a bicycle on the street, that I had to ride it in a park. I tried to explain that if I didn’t ride in the street, I couldn’t get to where I was going. He suggested I should get a car. “But that’s no fun,” I explained. At that point, his mother called him over to her.
Today was kind of a confusing day. I was given advice to get from Boston to McKeesport. The trail volunteer said the GAP had a big climb, but if I crossed the river and took the loop trail, there was no climb. That sounded good to me. What he didn’t say was that the loop trail was very rough in areas and it would really rattled my bones.
Today was all about trying to put in some miles before yesterday’s sprint from Confluence to Conellsville caught up with me. I got an early start and didn’t stop too much for the first couple of hours, but by noon I really started to feel the miles. When I got to Boston, PA, I stopped for a bit to look at my trail maps and Google maps to figure out where the next place to stay would be. The next campground or motel was 20-25 miles down the road, so I stopped even though it was still pretty early.
I did not do anything yesterday on my rest day other than laundry, so there isn’t anything to say. There was no bike shop in Meyersdale. Someone told me there was one in Rockwood, 12 miles down the trail. My trail map also showed a bike shop there, so late this morning, I slowly made my way to Rockwood. Turns out, the bike shop is owned by a full time farmer and isn’t always open. It does not have regular hours and was not open today. The next shop was another 20 miles down the road in Confluence and got there a little after 3:00. Rather than push myself to pedal as fast as I can to get there, I relaxed and had a nice slow ride. I was able to get the cable and housing replaced at Confluence Cyclery. The owner also gave me some good information about my upcoming route. While I was at the bike shop, I ran into Eric and Joan again. They stopped by the shop briefly.
Pedaling America 