C&O Canal, a National Historical Park (NHP)-
Fort
Frederick State Park (MD)
We finally reached a point in our training where we actually thought we
were ready for a more lengthy trip, say a week or so. But we weren’t quite
confident enough with our planning regimen to take on a hike of this magnitude
in an area where if we miscalculated our supply needs, we would be stranded and
our corpses would not be found until way after we had been fired from our jobs
for not showing up at the end of our scheduled vacation break.
We decided that hiking the C&O Canal Towpath 130 miles, from
Cumberland, MD to Brunswick, MD would be just the ticket. It would not be a
physically strenuous hike, from the standpoint of terrain, so we could
concentrate on other important aspects of a long hike such as stepping up our
pace and packing adequate food supplies and then rationing them for the duration
of a longer hike. We were confident that we could complete it in 7 day’s time
– hands-down. We would plan on doing the rest, from Brunswick to Washington,
DC at another time. We had already hiked a number of sections of the C&O
from DC and points north just as day hikes, so doing the northern section, where
there is much less development and traffic, would be a treat.
What we did not want to do is have to drive two cars to both ends
of this trip so we added a new dimension to our adventure this time; we drove
one car to Brunswick the night before the hike and on Friday evening took an
AMTRAK train from Rockville, MD to Cumberland. If you ever have the chance to do
something like this, take advantage of it. We had a grand time. We walked right
onto the train with our gear and joined up with all the Friday evening commuters
who regularly make this trip from Washington, DC to their homes in the outer
reaches of Maryland and West Virginia. Personally, I think it is quite nuts to
make this kind of trip on a daily, or even, weekly basis just because there are
high paying jobs in DC. But then again, when the median price of a home in the
DC/Metro area is $429,000.00, buying a house that costs one-third of that price
waaaaay out in the suburbs and commuting 3-4 hours a day makes some modicum of
sense, I suppose – but not to me. At the ripe old age of 55, I am beginning to
count each available hour of life I have left and wasting that much of them
sitting on a train just does not make a whole lot of sense. What we found odd
was that this trip was taken not that long after 9-11 and, yet, no one ever
searched our packs or even gave us a second glance when we entered the train.
But in hindsight, the main concern during that time was with terrorism on planes
so trains were not even on the radar as a high risk. With the events in Madrid
and London in 2005, I wonder if things would be different were we to take this
trip now.
We were like little kids on their first vacation with our faces
glued to the windows in order to try to recognize places along the tracks that
we had only previously seen from a car window. It was a different and exciting
perspective to see it from the train. We stopped in all sorts of small towns
along the way with their quaint reconditioned 19th century train
stations and, in some respects, it was like going back to a more relaxed time
when towns such as those lived and died by the activities surrounding the trains
that passed through. We saw things that you would never get to see from the air-
conditioned comfort of a car. And, of course, we had to explore! We were all
over the train checking out the dining car, for lack of a better term, gift shop
with all it’s AMTRAK memorabilia and even the rest rooms. I think, some day,
we would like to do a cross-country trip on a train and just live on the train
for a week or so.
We arrived in the sleepy town of Cumberland at around 8:00 p.m. or so
and took a short hike to the Holiday Inn which was right across the tracks and
only a few blocks from the C&O trailhead. And once again we were beginning
an adventure by relishing all the comforts of commercial civilization rather
than just hitting the trail and toughing it out. After checking in and visiting
the restaurant for dinner, we had, what would probably be our last good
night’s sleep for a week. Funny thing about restaurants in towns that are far
from the trendiness and health consciousness of the urban centers; every entrée
comes with some type of potato; be they garlic mashed, baked with all the
toppings or french fried. Haven’t these folks ever heard of the South Beach
Diet or heart attacks? I suppose that in this instance, where we knew we would
be burning a lot of calories over the next week, all those carbs would be a good
thing so I went ahead and ordered meat loaf, seldom found in our regular
rotation of urban restaurants like Applebees, TGI Fridays, Ruby Tuesday’s or
Outback and also the mashed potatoes. I was in heaven knowing that from here on
out it would be tuna, cheese, hard-boiled eggs and power bars.
Saturday we awoke early, had breakfast at the hotel and started
our trek through town to the trailhead. We found Cumberland to be quaint and
unassuming and there is quite an elaborate C&O Canal visitor center and
museum right before the trailhead. And, since the C&O is a mecca for bikers,
who on weekends turn the towpath into a two-wheeled version of the Washington
Capitol Beltway, there was also the proverbial bike rental shop. The weather was
gray and a heavy mist hung in the air but both of these added to the consummate
beauty of the Potomac River, which parallels the towpath. Since we started out
so early, we only passes a few early-morning joggers and a few very friendly
local walkers so we had time to just look around and take numerous pictures of
the unfamiliar surroundings. We kept up a pretty good pace, took our requisite
snack breaks at the appropriate times and looked forward to making camp at the
hiker-biker site some 15 miles ahead. As the day worn on we became cognizant of
the fact that, despite the trail being flat and without any rocks to abuse our
feet, they were indeed developing sore and hot spots on several toes. We found
this to be very curious and a bit disconcerting considering all the
foot-toughening expeditions we had been on up to this point. Little did we know
that this was just the beginning of what was to become the biggest hurdle of
this trip.
Late in the afternoon, with our feet becoming increasingly tender,
we arrived at our scheduled stop for the day; a very nice hiker-biker site.
These sites are strategically placed every 4-6 miles on the C&O, generally
near one of the restored lock houses, and are complete with, at least, one
picnic table, a port-o-john and a water pump. Because we had researched all of
this information prior to setting out on this adventure, we were completely
comfortable with our pace and use of water because we knew when we would be able
to replenish our hydration packs. What a horror to find that the handle had been
removed from the water pump evidently due to the fact that the water in the
cistern was not fit to drink. Psychologically, we had shut down for the day,
thinking that this site was the end of our day and we became quite demoralized
by the fact that we would now need to go another 4-6 miles, at a hurried pace,
in order to arrive at the next site before nightfall. Even then, we were now not
sure that there would be water there either. We grumbled, swore (though be it
not using the Lord God’s name in vain), put on our packs and headed back out
onto the trail. It was the most grueling 5 miles we had ever done and by the
time we reached the next site, both of us were suffering mercilessly with sore
feet and aching legs. There was an operating water pump at this site but, to add
further frustration to an already merciless day, the pump handle was frozen and
it took an incredible amount of effort to break it loose. To say we were
disappointed and extremely unhappy would be an understatement. This was our
first real taste of the unpredictability of life on the trail and we had failed
rather miserably in coping with it. Of course, up until the writing of this
journal entry, we were the only people on earth who knew that.
As quickly as our tired and ravaged limbs would allow us, we set
up our tent, filled our hydration packs, prepared and ate dinner and called it a
day, hoping upon hope that we would miraculously recover overnight and be ready
to do another 15 miles the next day. Unfortunately, that was not to be the case.
We awoke the next morning to beautiful weather, which as it turned out, was the
only redeeming virtue of the day. Our feet were a mess and we spent the first
hour of the day, nursing all the blisters and protecting the remaining hot spots
so that we could make any miles at all.
As it turned out, we only made 9 miles on Sunday and even that was
a painfully slow process. We decided that we needed to rest our feet and legs
and that, despite the fact that a 9-mile day would significantly impact out
schedule, we decided to leave the trail at Paw Paw, West Virginia and stay at
the hostel there to nurse our wounds. The last mile into Paw Paw was brutal road
walking but we finally made it, spending most of our time diving in to ditches
so we would not be hit by cars.
Paw Paw is an interesting town; a bit eerie in fact and the hostel
is a converted gas station. What we found inside though was thoroughly
entertaining and rejuvenated our spirits. The caretakers were extremely pleasant
and were more than willing to chat at length about the history of the town; or
what was left of it. Once we had set up our tent, ate dinner and did some more
first-aid work on our feet, we went back inside where we sat with the caretaker,
in the hostel’s great room, and heard about “The Big Flood”; the
catastrophe that became the downfall of the town and had reduced this once
thriving town to nothing more than a rundown stop along the trail where most of
the buildings were abandoned. We even got to see a book about the history of the
town complete with pictures of the devastation of the flood. The caretaker
turned to a much-viewed, dog-eared page and gleefully showed us the “famous”
picture of the cow wedged beneath the bottom of the bridge into town. Now this
bridge hovers a good 35-40 feet above the river so the fact that a cow was
washed downstream and got stuck under this bridge was pretty amazing. I guess
when you live in a town like Paw-Paw, something like this happening is akin to a
visit by the Pope.
Virtually every building in town was boarded up or was run down to
the point of giving the appearance of being abandoned. The centerpiece of this
community, both socially and commercially, was the local gas station that also
included a small market. It definitely was not the cheapest place in the world
to shop but it was all that was available. We went on a search for more first
aid items for our feet, to replenish what we had already used, but had little,
if any, luck. It seems that the stocking list for this store and the other mom
& pop store in town was designed to cater to the local clientele, not the
needs of lowly thru-hikers. So, if we had been in need of chewing tobacco,
fishing gear or 12-guage shot gun shells we would have reached nirvana. But
band-aids and blister packs – well, no such luck. So, we gingerly walked back
to our tent and called it a day.
The human body is an incredible marvel of God’s creation and its
ability to heal itself just never ceases to amaze us. When we awoke in the
morning we aptly expected to still be crippled to the point of not being able to
move at all but to our amazement, aside from some obvious stiffness that we had
grown accustomed to on these hikes and some tenderness in our feet, we were in
remarkably good shape. We hobbled down the road back to the trail and by the
time we reached the infamous Paw Paw Tunnel, we were pretty much back up to our
normal walking speed.
The Paw Paw
Tunnel, at times referred to as one of the "Wonders of the World," is
one of the major features of the canal. It was estimated that construction of
the nearly one kilometer-long tunnel (3118') would take two years. Instead, it
ended up being fourteen years between the onset of construction and the opening
of the tunnel to traffic.
Some of the
problems faced by the builders of the tunnel were ethnic violence which broke
out among the Irish, English and Dutch workers, financial woes, and a general
underestimation of the difficulty of the job. The completed tunnel was only wide
enough for one boat to go through at a time. When a boat arrived at a tunnel
entrance, a boy would be sent to place a lantern at the other end to signal to
oncoming boats that the tunnel was already occupied. Usually this sufficed.
However, from time to time boats would meet in the middle and one would have to
retreat. On one memorable occasion, the captains of the two boats that met in
the middle were particularly stubborn. For days, neither would agree to turn
around. Finally the section superintendent of that part of the canal could stand
it no longer. He bought all the cornstalks he could and built a roaring fire at
the upwind end of the tunnel. Both boats exited very quickly.
Hiking
through the tunnel gave us the first chance to use our new headlamps and they
worked like a dream. As we walked through the dark on the dirt path that the
mules used to pull the barges through the tunnel, we could hear the dripping of
water from the joints in the millions of bricks that made up the tunnel. It was
an awe-inspiring and eerie walk and as we exited out the other end we knew this
would be one place on the hike that we would never forget.
The better part
of the day was spent just taking in all the natural beauty around us, the myriad
of wildlife such as turtles, deer, muskrat, beavers and birds. But, as we
approached the next hiker-biker site to have lunch the sky grew ominous and we
had a feeling that this was going to be another interesting day.
As
we were finishing up lunch, we heard what sounded like rolling thunder but
Georgia insisted that it was only a large plane passing overhead. Then we heard
it again and we prepared for the worst. Now we had to make a decision; pitch our
tent and ride out the storm or keep going and deal with whatever mother nature
threw at us. Since the site we were at was close to, and only a few feet above,
the Potomac River, we decided that this was probably not a good place to ride
out a storm of unknown intensity and duration. So off we went with a new
resolve.
Before we
knew it we were in the middle of the most intense storm that we had, to this
date, ever experienced. Despite having our rain jackets on we were soaked within
minutes. This episode confirmed the fact that the rain gear we had, though
lightweight was simply not adequate for this type of weather. We have since
purchased Frogg Toggs that are not only incredibly lightweight but also super
water resistant. This rain gear is the bomb!
Well,
back to the story. Our boots were soaked to the point where our feet were
sloshing around inside them which doesn’t lend itself well to the healing of
blisters and our clothes now weighed twice what they did when dry. Not long
after the storm started we reached a point on the trail where we walked
underneath a railroad trestle and as we looked ahead we saw a shadowy figure
approaching from the other direction. Now this was a bit disconcerting since we
had not seen another human being since leaving the tunnel in Paw Paw. Were our
eyes deceiving us because of the intensity of the rain? The figure grew closer
and we could see that this person was dressed all in camouflage and was carrying
a crossbow and a quiver full of arrows. Immediately the strains of the
“Dueling Banjos” from “Deliverance” echoed all around us and we had the
sinking feeling that we may be doomed. You see there is no hunting allowed along
the trail, so what was this person really doing here?
We walked up to him and as we passed in the driving rain he asked, in a
somewhat sinister voice, “Are we having fun yet?”
Our pace
immediately quickened and, until we were clearly out of range of his bow, I was
constantly looking over my shoulder to make sure he was still headed away from
us. On top of this unnerving confrontation we later found out that the section
of rail that we were on when this all occurred is conspicuously called “Devils
Alley”. Way too weird!
The rain
finally let up but, by this time, we were so wet that it really did not make any
difference and we resolved ourselves to the fact that the rest of the day was
going to be uncomfortable. But in the back of our minds, we were comforted by
the fact that at our next stop we were going to get a good meal at Bob’s Place
which is a restaurant right on the trail at the Little Orleans Campground. But
once again our dreams were dashed!
Seems
that Bob’s Place, which was a very rustic place complete with a bar and, from
what we were told, a very good menu, had burned down several months prior to our
arrival. Now, a new, more modern log structure had been erected in its place and
though its reputation was still in tact, Bob had developed a more relaxed
attitude with regards to when he would be open. As we walked up onto the
wrap-around porch, with visions of a hot meal and possibly a cold Coors Light
dancing in our heads, we were abruptly wrenched back to reality by a sign that
read, “Closed – Gone Fishin’”. Are you kidding me? That only happens in
Mayberry or on cartoons. But, come to think of it, this area was a lot
like Mayberry.
Well, no problem, we will go to Plan “B”. Plan “B: being
that we would call one of the hostels or B&Bs on the list we had with us and
they could pick us up and take us back to reality for the night. Well, it seems
that Bob had taken everybody in town with him fishing because no one answered
any of the numbers we called. It was looking more and more like we would have to
pitch the tent and spend a fitful night at the campground.
As we sat on the porch contemplating our fate, several bikers
showed up who were as wet as we were but who obviously had better plans for the
evening then us. As we talked with them we found that they had arranged for a
person to pick them up and take them to a ranch in Pennsylvania for the night.
Viola! We may be off the hook! Shortly thereafter, an old beat up Ford F-250
with a crew cab and enough rust on the body to deem it un-roadworthy in any
other state, pulled up and out jumped a grizzled farmer with a scruffy red
beard. But hey, considering our current position, who were we to judge. This guy
could be our first experience with a “Trail Angel”. As he loaded
everyone’s bike into the back of his truck we inquired as to whether or not he
had room for us “at the inn” and he answered that he did but qualified his
answer with what it would cost us for the night. At this point, we didn’t
care. We threw our packs in the back, jumped into the cramped crew cab and off
we went.
We drove for what seemed like hours up into the hills of
Pennsylvania, past the “original” Mason-Dixon Line, until we reached the
Buck Valley Ranch. Leon and his wife Nadine had been running this ranch for
years and made a decent living by giving horseback trips through the
Pennsylvania mountains and putting up bikers and hikers from the C&O. We
were escorted into this huge, old farmhouse replete with Nadine’s collection
of ceramic figurines and the most eclectic array of art work we had ever seen.
We were shown our rooms and proceeded to change into some dry clothes after a
nice hot shower. Nadine informed us that if we would give her our wet clothes
she would take them to their house, across the yard, and dry them out for us.
This was just amazing! Especially since she was not expecting us and, in fact,
nicknamed us “The Strays”. Leon showed us around the house, let us know
where the refrigerator full of beer was and let us know that dinner would be
ready shortly. What came next just blew us away!
Seems that Leon, besides being a cowboy for many years, had
developed quite a knack as a cook. As we sat down for dinner, we were amazed by
all the options he presented to us. There was salad, fresh tomatoes, chicken,
potatoes, corn, rolls and our choice of beverage. There was enough food to feed
20 people and every bit of it was delicious. As we stuffed in the last bit of
chicken, Nadine let us know that we must leave room for Leon’s homemade peach
cobbler and ice cream. At this point, returning to the trail the next day
didn’t sound like such an inviting idea. We sat around for hours just talking
with our newfound friends and after a brief moment on the front porch, looking
up at the most star-filled sky we had ever seen, we called it a day.
As if we had not had enough food the night before, breakfast put
us over the edge. There were eggs, pancakes, bacon, sausage, juice, toast,
fruit, coffee and muffins. Now this is what the trail should be! Leon would even
pack us a box lunch to take back on the trail. Since we still had plenty of food
of our own we chose not to go that route. We all loaded into the truck, bid
farewell to our hostess and headed back to the trail. It was a gorgeous day with
mild temperatures and, thank God, not a cloud in the sky. We said good-bye to
Leon, thanked him for all he had done for us, said we would keep in touch and
headed on down the trail, more determined than ever to make it to Brunswick, MD
on our scheduled day.
Totally re-energized, we picked up the pace and just walked,
talked, looked and wondered. Our sore feet were a distant memory by this time
and it was just an unbelievable day. One of the high points of the day was the
sight of a Pileated woodpecker that came out of a tree next to the trail, just
missing us, and flew down the trail ahead of us. It was so cool!
One of the wonderful advantages of being on the trail is that you
are out of virtually complete contact with the outside world and what is going
on. With no radio or TV, you can just concentrate on the immediate world within
eyesight and your stress level tends to go to the negative side of zero.
However, there is a downside to this, as well, as we were about to find out.
As we walked along just thoroughly enjoying ourselves, we talked
about the fact that despite all the unexpected turns of events so far, we were
going to complete the entire 130 miles to Brunswick just as we had planned. Not
long after heading out, we began to notice a lot of activity along the trail
involving employees of the National Park Service. The solitude of our trip was
now being constantly interrupted by pick-up trucks towing flatbed trailers down
the trail. And what was additionally disturbing was the fact that, on these
trailers, were port-o-johns and picnic tables; lots of them. Since we had been
deliberately incommunicado all week, what we were not aware of was that there
was a huge hurricane, named Isabel, that was scheduled to hit the mid-Atlantic
in the next few days. As a precaution against loosing valuable park property to
a potentially flooded Potomac River, the NPS was picking up everything at the
hiker-biker sites and taking it to a more secure location. It never occurred to
us that we would need to cut our trip short. We would just have to come up with
alternate plans to deal with the fact that there would be no services, like
water, available at our remaining overnight stops. Port-o-Johns? We don’t need
no stinkin’ Port-o-Johns! However, developing those plans was a short-lived
endeavor when we were informed by one of the park rangers that we would need to
leave the trail by Wednesday and that no one was going to be allowed to use the
trail until the danger of flooding had passed.
We were devastated! Not to mention the fact that our car was
parked another three days’ hike down the trail. However, if there was one
thing that we had learned so far on this hike, it was that we needed to look at
every turn of events, be they good or bad, as an adventure; an obstacle that we
needed to overcome and still keep good spirits as we did. Such was this
situation. Within 15 minutes we had worked out our plan; all the while keeping
up our pace as if nothing had changed.
We decided that we would continue hiking this day until we reached
Hancock, MD where we would leave the trail, hike into town and find a place to
stay. During a snack break, Georgia pulled out her cell phone (yes, we do submit
to the use of technology a bit especially if it something that can help us out
in an emergency) and called the Motel 8 to get us a room. We then decided that
the only way to get from Hancock to Brunswick was to get a cab, which we knew
was an expensive proposition but it was our only option. As it turned out,
Hancock only had one cab company so we considered ourselves very blessed by the
fact that these folks were willing to take us the 30-some miles to our car.
Compared to the previous part of the week, this last evening and
the ride to Brunswick were relatively uneventful. We hiked through town, with
its array of mom & pop storefronts, off-brand gas stations and the town’s
culinary mecca, Pizza Hut, until we reached the motel. At this point we were
very tired, hot, sore, a bit frustrated and more than a bit smelly from our day
on the trail. The air conditioning and hot shower were welcome amenities and we
ordered dinner from a local restaurant and had it delivered to our room. As we
ate, we watched reports on Isabel and, based on the predictions by the National
Weather Service, it was probably a wise idea that we would not be on the trail
for the next few days. But, in the back of our minds there was this nagging
feeling that we had failed; had been defeated by the whims of nature and had not
been allowed to challenge them to see if we could defeat what was thrown in our
path.
The next morning we rose early, jumped in our cab and we were off,
weaving our way through the scenic countryside of Northern Maryland to
Brunswick. Now what is so memorable about this trip, aside from the lack of
water, sore feet, torrential downpours, trail angels and the hurricane was this;
the providence of God through this whole adventure and the underlying fact of
why we needed to be off the trail.
As it turned out, when we finally arrived home there were numerous
phone messages on our machine informing us that Georgia’s grandmother had been
in a bad car accident and was in intensive care in a hospital outside Chicago.
With that, we were on the phone getting plane tickets and within hours we were
in the air and on our way to see her. We spent the remainder of our vacation
with family at her bedside and, had it not been for the series of events that
brought us home early, we would not have been able to be there with her. God is
good – all the time.
The remainder of this hike would have to wait for another day.
This hike was to be a continuation of our quest to complete the
entire C&O Canal before our thru-hike; we only had a few sections to go, so
were getting totally psyched. On Friday night we hiked in the 0.3 mile from the
trailhead to the Indian Flats campsite after stopping at the Dickerson General
Store to pick up sandwiches for dinner. In preparation for a predicted
thunderstorm, we looked for a high area where we wouldn’t get flooded out
since the site was at the bottom of a steep hill. The biggest drawback to this
site was that the port-a-john had not been serviced for some time and the air
smelled of urine. This was definitely a “Two Cheeks Down” privy. We also had
to put up with locals on a nearby island on the Potomac firing off fireworks
until, probably 9:00 p.m. And we had a stranger walk into the site from
downstream and ask if the port-o-john had paper. Having assured him that it did,
he proceeded to the toilet, got a huge handful of paper and disappeared back
down to the water's edge, out of sight. Hmmm?
The storm finally hit and it was a blessing in disguise because it
got rid of all the partying intruders who had to run for cover. The storm was
intense, with wind, thunder & lightening and heavy rain. It was so awesome
to be huddled in our tent just riding it out and the only thing that kept our
tent on the ground was our weight inside. We could hear the thunder rolling in
from miles away and, after awhile, we could predict when it would be virtually
right on top of us. It was both frightening and beautiful. Ironically, though we
did not vocalize it until the next morning, both of us had been wondering if the
unbelievable wind would cause a tree to fall on the campground and reduce our
tent, and us, to nothing more than a colorful spot on the landscape.
We arose the next morning to a clear day but very hot and very
humid; not normal for a day in May. We
ate breakfast and started out to the sound of millions of cicadas. This sound
stayed with us all day and after awhile we hardly noticed it. The evening rains
had left the trail very muddy so it was slow going and it was hard on the legs
as we slipped our way along. This was another creature-filled trip!(my gauge of
a successful hike) First we came upon a deer in the trail, the first of two
would we see this day but the most awesome sight was a large Barred owl that
flew into a tree right along side us. As Georgia pulled out her camera for a
shot, I noticed a rustling in the weeds to our left. I tried in vain to see what
it was because it left a pretty good-sized trail through the weeds. We wondered
if, whatever it was, was going to have been the owl’s breakfast had we not
stumbled into his dining room when we did. We got some great shots of this owl
and proceeded, full of energy and enthusiasm.
Shortly thereafter, we came upon the picnic area at Nolands Ferry,
took a quick break and said hello to a large contingent of bikers headed north.
As we left the picnic area, we came across a beautiful old stone building that
looked like it had once served as a mill. There was no sign telling us what it
was but it was obviously being used for something because there were lights on
inside. On the front were two markings indicating high water marks from two past
floods and we later learned that this building was a water pumping station for
Frederick County.
As we proceeded on to Point of Rocks, the heat and humidity began
to be a factor and our pace started to slow. Just before Point of Rocks, we came
across a hiker/biker campsite, took a snack break and spoke with one of the
bikers who was camping there. Despite the fact that it was already mid-morning
and most bikers had already been on the trail for some time, he was the only one
of this large group of bikers that was actually up. We had a nice, but brief,
conversation and headed to Point of Rocks.
We continued on with plans to stop at Bald Eagle Island campsite
for lunch and when we arrived, we had to sweep hundreds of cicada exoskeletons
off of the picnic table so we could eat. On the ground had to be literally
thousands more exoskeletons from cicadas that had used the tree by our table for
their home. It was a pretty
incredible sight. After lunch and a brief time of stretching and rest, we headed
out with Brunswick in our minds and the false idea that it would be a piece of
cake. Little did we know how much the heat and humidity had taken out of us and
we were really feeling the affects.
We did get an enjoyable break at Lock #29. The lock house had been
refurbished by a local historical organization and we spent about an hour there
getting a tour of the house and a history lesson from George, the volunteer
caretaker. We sat on the porch in the old rocking chairs and just chatted with
George about the house and our backgrounds. It was one of those moments that
make an adventure like this memorable because so few people take the opportunity
to do it. We headed on out with about 5 miles to go – as it turned out, the
longest 5 miles of the trip. We just could not drink enough water and our feet
and legs were feeling the toll of the heat and the preceding 7 miles on
hard-packed dirt. There were several diversions that broke the monotony of the
walk like the ruins of an old aqueduct, a large snapping turtle in our path and
several rather large black snakes. One of the consistent things about the canal
is the abundance of huge snapping turtles sunning themselves on the tree limbs
in the canal. Some of the shells are, by our estimates, 12-16” across and they
are typically covered with the green slime from the canal so they are very well
camouflaged. The rest of the trip
was somewhat uneventful and we were a bit disappointed that we did not get to
Brunswick in time for the Potomac River Festival. But it was probably just as
well, because we were just too darn tired to take it in any way.
This trip was a warm-up for our 3.5 day hike from Brunswick to Williamsport on Memorial Day weekend. As tired as we were and as bad as our feet and legs hurt, we wondered what the next weekend would be like and looked forward to it with a warped sense of anticipation. But we were glad that we had an opportunity to do this trip so we could analyze what we did right and what we did wrong so the Memorial Day hike wouldn’t be quite so brutal. It also gave Georgia a chance to try out her new ULA P-2 pack, which she really liked.
We set out from Brunswick at 2:00 p.m. on Friday, after leaving our 2nd
vehicle at the C&O Canal Visitors Center in Williamsport the night before.
Our goal was to hike the 8 miles to the Huckleberry Hill campsite, north of
Harpers Ferry by early evening. This stretch was beautifully scenic and we
arrived in Harpers Ferry (one of our favorite places) at about 5:00 p.m. where
we had a nice dinner at Lori’s Café. Once we had rested our feet and visited
the restrooms in town, we spent some time talking to a family who had just
completed hiking the AT thru Maryland. We swapped stories of our experiences on
this section of the AT and then we were on our way.
Just before reaching the campsite, we got caught in an early
evening shower that forced us to set up camp in the rain. We decided, at this
point, to be more diligent in reading the weather and preparing for rain a bit
earlier than we normally would. We turned in early in anticipation of a long day
on Saturday. Georgia was really loving her new P-2 pack!
We hit the trail at 7:30 a.m. on Saturday morning with just
absolutely beautiful weather to hike in; cool with low humidity. We kept up a
good pace and stopped at the Antietam Creek recreation area for a snack and
facilities break. While there, we spoke with the NPS volunteer who oversaw the
campground and he gave us some insight into the campground and his past history
as a volunteer with the NPS. At this point we were feeling pretty strong and
decided to hike past our original stop for the night, Killiansburg Cave
campground, and continue on to Horseshoe Bend campground at mile marker 79.9.
This would make for a long day, 17 miles, but we knew that Sunday’s walk on
the 5 miles of asphalt road on the Big Slackwater detour, would be hard on our
feet, so Sunday should be a somewhat shorter day. Our original plan on Saturday
was to stop in Sheperdstown , WV for lunch but the 2-3 extra miles into town and
back, would make for way too long a day, so we nixed that plan rather quickly.
The section of trail near Killiansburg Cave was very interesting
with numerous caves in the limestone cliffs to our right. It is said that women
and children hid in these caves during the battle of Antietam. Many of them had
streams running out of them and it was a pretty incredible sight to see. Just
before Horseshoe Bend, we stopped at the historic Barron’s C&O Canal Store
for some ice cream which tasted great after a steady diet of tuna, hard-boiled
eggs and trail mix. There was a small museum at the store with some great
pictures of sections of the canal from “way back when.” We arrived at
Horseshoe Bend late in the afternoon and set up camp. This was a nice campground
though the picnic bench was chained to the railing on the steps coming down from
the trail. We had to locate two large logs to raise one end of the table just so
that items didn’t slide off the table while we were eating. It was another
beautiful evening to sleep though Georgia ended up on a very lumpy piece of
ground and woke up the next morning pretty uncomfortable. We hit the trail on
Sunday, again at 7:30 a.m. (we just can’t seem to get past that start time no
matter what time we get up) and set out on what turned out to be a very arduous
day.
After a quick stop at the Big Woods campsite for a potty break, we were
off and we arrived at Dam #4 on the Potomac late morning where we stopped for a
snack break before tackling the Slackwater detour. This detour covers 5 miles of
narrow asphalt road and was necessitated by the fact that years of flooding of
the Potomac had washed away the towpath from mile marker 85.5 to 88.1. This
detour might be a nice change for bikers but for backpackers it is a grueling
trip. The asphalt burned our feet, there was no water, we had to constantly jump
into the ditches to avoid speeding traffic and, because the roads wound through
residential areas, there was no secluded place to “relieve” yourself. We
nicknamed this section the “Damn 4 Road”.
By the time we arrived at the other end of the detour, at McMahon’s Mill
(where there were also no facilities) we took our chances and used the nearby
woods to answer nature’s call. At this point, we were glad that we had done a
long day on Saturday and that we only had 2 miles to go until we reached our
destination for this day, the Opequon Valley campsite.
We decided to take another snack break and rolled out our sleeping
pads for an extended break and vowed to let the NPS know our feelings about the
lack of services on either end of the detour. About 30 minutes later, after
talking with some bikers heading south, we
were off. This section of trail, though narrow, is quite beautiful as you walk
right alongside the Potomac and, except for an occasional traffic jam with
oncoming horses, it was a wonderful section. One of the great things about
hiking is that with all the peace and quiet, you get a lot of time to think and
dream. My dream for the day was that our next stop would be this beautiful open
campsite with lush grass in an open area. Much to our surprise, that’s almost
exactly what we found at Opequon. The site was large with lush grass to set our
tent up on and moles had worked over the earth so that the dirt underneath was
extremely soft. However, THERE WAS NO WATER! The handle had been taken off the
pump.
At first this did not create a problem because we knew that about
4 miles further up the trail we would find water at the Cumberland Valley
campsite and if we rationed what we had, we would be fine. Just before we got
ready to use some of the water we had left to cook an early dinner, a family
arrived on bikes and notified us that the pump handle had been removed at
Cumberland Valley as well. Upon hearing this, we severely rationed what water we
had left so that we could make it to Williamsport on Monday without running out
but, even at that, it still would be close. We felt bad for this family because
they were completely out of water and the next available place was McMahon’s
campground, another 2 miles down the path. We shared the site with these folks
and found it humorous that they brought only hotdogs and rolls to eat.
Evidently, based on an argument between them that we overheard, on their last
trip the wife brought more food than they would ever eat. So, on this trip she
scaled back their meal options and brought only hot dogs. They did have their
beer, cigarettes and Pepsi though so they were somewhat happy. The husband
actually spent the rest of the day fishing to try to catch some dinner which he
eventually did.
We turned in REALLY early so that they could have the use of the
site to themselves and made a note to bring some type of entertainment with us
next time so we had something to do when we arrived in camp so early in the day.
Going to bed at four in the afternoon, out of sheer lack of anything else to do,
seems like such a waste of valuable time; especially for two people who pack so
much into every minute of every day like we do. We spent the afternoon and early
evening listening to the numerous oversized and loud speed boats and jet skis
racing up and down the Potomac next to the campsite.
On Sunday we finally broke our routine of hitting the trail at
7:30 a.m. and actually were packed up and ready to go at 6:30. As it turned out,
this turned out to be a very advantageous thing. The skies were threatening and,
so as not to be caught again like Friday evening, we prepared for rain. The
packs were covered, we had our rain gear on and were ready for the last 10 miles
into Williamsport. We had only a small amount of water left in our Nalgene
bottles so we decided that at each mile marker we would take a small swig. This
section was again picturesque but we suddenly came upon a development with
numerous trailers and cottages, that we were not expecting. The trail went right
through the middle of this development and the adjoining campground and we were
somewhat amazed by the number of cottages that were built right on the edge of
the river where floods would wash them away. Stopping at Cumberland Valley for
breakfast, we met a very nice couple who had biked into the site to have
breakfast as well. However, their breakfast was a bit more luxurious than ours.
They had a propane camp stove and were having pancakes, eggs, bacon and orange
juice. They offered us some but we declined the offer because we knew if we ate
pancakes we would not be able to overcome the dryness in our mouths with the
little bit of water we had left. That was a real bummer because those pancakes
would have tasted great right about then; certainly better than the trail bars
and fruit cups we were eating. After talking with these folks for awhile, the
drizzle was getting heavier, so we decided to hit the trail before it got worse.
Besides that, we had a mission at this point; Williamsport by 10:00 a.m.
We picked up the pace as the rain got heavier and we were glad we were
prepared. We knew we were getting close to our destination as we encountered
more and more joggers and bikers and this lifted our spirits immensely. We
finally broke through the wooded area of the trail and out into the open next to
a section of the canal that had been “re-watered”. It was truly a beautiful
sight. There was a fully restored lock house and several bridges and then the
lake behind the visitor’s center. We had made it by 10:15! Forty-five miles in
3 days – WOW! And we physically felt pretty good. No blisters, no bruises from
hip-belts and a sense that we were getting stronger with each hike. Now all we
had left was the section from Williamsport to Hancock and a few short sections
near DC and we will have completed the entire canal in a little over a year.
Since we were forced off the C&O by hurricane Isabel last September,
we used this weekend to complete the section of trail that we missed. By
completing this section, we only had a 22-mile section near DC to finish and we
would complete the entire 184 miles of the C&O. Not long after this hike, we
completed a long day hike of this last section, through the Great Falls area,
and got some beautiful photos.
We drove to Hancock on Friday night to leave the pick-up car at
the trailhead and then searched for a place to have dinner. Hancock is one of
those sleepy little, life in a past century, type of towns that rolls up its
sidewalks when the sun goes down, so dinner options were few and far between. We
did find the Pizza Hut that was open and sat down for what could only be
considered a “memorable” meal. It was memorable in that it was pretty awful!
It was only 8:00 p.m. and they looked like they were ready to close. The salad
bar was out of fresh fixin’s and the country-western music was way too loud.
Of course, any volume of this type of music is too loud for us. Once we
finished, we headed to the Red Roof Inn in Williamsport to spend our anniversary
so we were ready to hit the trail first thing in the morning.
Because of our experience with running out of water during our
last C&O hike, we came prepared with extra full water bladders which added
another 5 unwanted pounds to our packs but assured us that we would not run out
of water if the pumps on the trail were down.
We left early Saturday morning with our goal being Fort Frederick
where we would stay at the campground for the night. This made for a long day,
17 miles, but we felt confident that we could easily do it. The weather was
absolutely beautiful and this section of the trail was one of the most
picturesque sections we had been on so far. We also called this the “black
snake section” of the trail due to the fact that we encountered more black
snakes here than any place we had been thus far. One of the curious things about
our hikes on the C&O has been the lack of backpackers that we have
encountered. Up to this trip, we had only ever seen one and that was an AT
thru-hiker that we saw near Harpers Ferry and the only reason he was on the
C&O was because that section of the C&O was part of the AT. But, on this
trip, we ran into a large group of Boy Scouts who were headed south to
Brunswick. We felt pretty good about ourselves when we saw them because here was
a group of teens, who should have seen this trip, physically, as a mere walk in
the park but, instead, they were really dragging; and this was at about 10:00
a.m.. It was obvious that they had never done this before, because they were
walking complete with oversized and ill-fitting packs and Walkmen plugged in
their ears. After watching them and the speed at which they were moving, we were
certain that they would not make it to Brunswick for quite some time. We felt
really good that, at our ages, we were out-walking these kids without even
breaking a sweat.
About mid-morning we came upon Dam #5, which was an awesome sight
and a very scenic place to take a break. This was evidently a fishers’
paradise because there were fishermen everywhere and they were pulling catfish
out of the river, at the base of the dam, as fast as they could throw their
lines in. We talked with a crew of bikers who were headed south, had a morning
snack and then stretched out on our sleeping pads for a brief rest. One thing we
have learned from our extensive hiking, is that we can actually make better time
and incur less fatigue and blisters, if we take rests more often. By pushing
ourselves, we actually get slower as the day goes on. With frequent rests, we
make up whatever time we lost during the breaks by being able to walk at a
sustained and brisker pace after the break. After taking some photos, we headed
on to Fort Frederick, our final stop for the day. One minor mishap, that could
have become a major catastrophe, was that I used my backpack to lean against
while I was resting and inadvertently sat on my water hose causing a great deal
of my valuable water supply to drain out onto the ground.
We arrived at Fort Frederick at about 2:00 p.m. and walked the
extra mile from the trail to the picnic area at the fort. We went into the store
there and picked up sodas and
bottles of orange juice. They really tasted great until we realized that there
were no trash cans around and that we would have to carry the bottles with us
the rest of the trip. Duh! After eating lunch we spent some time at the fort and
it was really interesting. The fort had been rebuilt to its original condition
and there were several people, in period costumes, who were doing day-to-day
chores around the fort and would answer any questions you might have about the
fort itself. It was a relaxing diversion from the trail and we learned quite a
bit about the history of this little-known fort. Since my feet & knees were
giving me some trouble, Georgia headed off to the park office to get us a
campsite for the night. Once done, we headed back across the trail to the
campground, which was a well-maintained facility right near the Potomac. One
slight mix-up was that when we arrived at our site, someone was already in it.
However, the people were very nice and upon learning that we had just reserved
the site and that they had just invoked “squatters rights” and parked there,
they gave up the site and drove off to the office to actually pay for one. I
have to say, our site looked pretty bare compared to the other sites with their
monster-sized RVs and trailers. All we had was our 2-person tent and our packs.
It was pretty obvious that the gentleman next to us had been there for awhile
because he had brought everything but the kitchen sink with him. Come to think
of it, he did have a kitchen sink or, at least a reasonable facsimile. We had to
laugh when we saw him break out his TV and sat it on a table under his camper
tarp to watch the news.
We had dinner, massaged each other’s feet (real bonding
experience) and nursed each other’s minor blisters. We had also learned to
“listen” to our feet and at the first sign of hot spots, we stopped to take
care of them. This little technique has served us well and has kept us from
getting any large hike-stopping blisters. Since we only had 12 miles or so to go
on Sunday, we knew that we could make it with just one full water bladder so we
dumped our other bladders which was a welcome relief. Having eaten most of our
food and with 5 pounds less water, our trip on Sunday would be no more than an
average day hike from here on out.
We headed out at about 7:00 a.m. on Sunday for what was to be another
beautiful day. This section was one of the most well-maintained sections we had
ever been on and every hiker-biker site was in great shape except for Licking
Creek where someone had left a whole bunch of trash from what looked like, a
party the night before. Unfortunately, there was so much trash we could not
carry it out. When we got back, I contacted the NPS and they sent out a section
supervisor to take care of it. Always on the lookout for wildlife, I keep an eye
on the actual canal whenever we get to a section that still has water in it. We
came upon a section that had a bunch of turtles sunning themselves on logs in
the green waters of the canal. We stopped for a moment to take a better look at
what looked to be a green slime-covered log when we realized that it was a
snapping turtle. Now we had seen plenty of snapping turtles before but this one
was extraordinary. His head was the size of a softball and his shell had to be
16”-18” across. He was huge! In fact, when he backed off of the log he was
sunning himself on, the entire log surfaced and it had to be 10’ long and 8”
in diameter. That log had to have weighed 50-60 lbs and this turtle had almost
completely submerged it with his weight. It was unbelievable.
We arrived in Hancock at about 2:00 p.m. and felt really good
about what we had accomplished. The weather had cooperated and it was a
wonderful way to spend our 12th Anniversary. In fact, as a bit of
irony, there was a banner hanging up over the trail near our car that said
“Finish Line”. This was obviously put there to mark the end of a bike race
but we saw it as a fitting end to our hike.
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