Day 11-Day 15: West Virginia

Day 11: Morgantown
The route into Morgantown began in a fashion less then promising. What was supposed to be a 24 mile jaunt over the state border turned into a logistical fiasco. The previous week our trip was offered sponsored admission to the Frank Lloyd Wright house Falling Water courtesy of the Speight family. Rami Speight was a 2005 HBC South rider who was killed by a car on the trip. She had been an architecture student at Yale, and in her honor her family annually sponsors South's excursion to the house turned museum. Falling Water is in Southwestern Pennsylvania about half an hour outside of Uniontown, thus for all 25 of us to travel to the house we had to shuttle the group in our 15 passenger van. Unfortunately, the leaders never quite finalized the plans for visiting Falling Water. Unlike other museums, you must make a tour reservation to enter the house, which we didn't learn until the first shuttle had reached the museum and been denied entry.
In situations like this, it comes in handy that we're a fundraiser for Habitat for Humanity. Andy - our theater major leader - begged and pleaded with the tour booth, "we're riding our bikes across the country for Habitat, we'll only be here for one day, it would mean the world to us to visit Falling Water, etc." Finally, they relented and stuffed our group into the pre-existing tour schedule. However, we needed to fit into their tours according to their availability so what should have been a three hour trip to Falling Water, became a six hour hurry-up-and-wait situation. By the time the last group returned to Uniontown from Falling Water it was nearly 2:00pm, and riding the 24 miles to Morgantown was completely out of the question. Thus for the second time in a day, the whole group got to shuttle again!
This blew. Crossing the state border stuffed into a crowded van on a 90 degree humid day has the same appeal as having teeth pulled. For starters, we're there to bike, not ride in the van for convenience of getting to the church on time. It also didn't help that in the midst of the Falling Water fiasco, we missed lunch, and as anyone who has hung around a bunch of athletes just before a meal, hungriness = crankyness. We were a van full of hot, sticky, moody, and cranky twentysomethings starting our West Virgina adventure on the proverbial wrong foot.

Day 7 - 10: The Rest of Pennsylvania

After leaving Hazleton, the ride to Sunbury was hot and humid, but largely uneventful. In fact the most notable aspect of the day was the Boston Shake that I purchased at a fast food restaurant on an island in the Susquehanna River. Apparently the Boston Shake is a milkshake with a scoop of ice cream, whip cream, and a cherry (plus sprinkles if you ask). Having grown up in Massachusetts in addition to having spent considerable time in Boston with no prior introduction to said Boston Shake, I found the whole ordeal to be rather contrived. After returning to the youth center, I wikied "Boston Shake" only to find no entries, which convinces me that the Boston Shake is a silly idea that people from the middle of the country have concocted to make a yummy dessert sound foreign and thus more desirable. It is yummy, dear Pennsylvanians, but it's not necessary to masquerade the shake as a New England delicacy.

The ride from Sunbury to Huntingdon almost did me in. It was 93 miles with two mountains in the middle (one at 30 miles and the second at 68 miles). However, one of the highlights of the day was our roadside stop to pick up two plates of David's Awesome Cookies. David, a middle schooler, apparently has a summer business of selling homemade cookies, and we completely made his day (and probable sales for the week). Miriam and I rode together for most of the day, which was great because we keep a fairly similar pace, have similar senses of humor, and enjoy singing the same songs. Around State College, PA we entertained the traffic with our patchy recollections of Green Day's Basketcase. Somehow we managed to get off directions for a little while, so our 93 mile day became closer to 100 miles. I was lucky to get to the church in Huntingdon at 3:59pm, one minute before the hard cap of the day at 4:00pm.

Now, if the ride from Sunbury to Huntingdon almost did me in, then the ride from Huntingdon to Johnstown came one step closer. I woke up feeling week and dehydrated from the 90 + day before, which was a less than opportune way to begin a 72 mile day with two large climbs. This day is casually referred to in HBC South circles as "Hell Day" because this was the day that a) everyone got lost in the afternoon, and b) because we crossed the Eastern Continental Divide at an elevation of 2700 feet. The Divide climb was essentially a 7 mile uphill in the heat of the day with what seemed like a million false summits. At one point I reached what I thought had to be the peak because I saw five or six huge windmills around the road -- and where would you put a windmill if not the top of a mountain? Well, apparently that logic does not stand up because after I struggled and battled up this gigantic hill to reach said windmills, I crawled to the top to see a small downhill and even steeper rise in front of me. I screamed every obscenity I could about Pennsylvania at that moment. It was the only time that I have quite audibly swore on the road during the trip.

We finally made it into Johnstown, but without the help of a kind motorcyclist I would have been completely lost. Late in the afternoon, I was riding by myself and took a wrong turn because of unclear directions. Luckily a motorcyclist and his wife flagged me down and set me straight on the right road to Johnstown. They had apparently just escorted a whole group of HBCers who had made the same mistake, and were turning around when they saw me. Thank god it was a four mile descent into the city because had there been any uphills, my legs never would have made it. For Northeast history buffs, this is the same Johnstown that has been flooded multiple times in the past century. The same four mile descent into the valley that I loved so much is also responsible for the catastrophic flooding that has destroyed the city on three separate occasions. Good for cyclists, bad for flood waters.

Finally the last ride in Pennsylvania was wonderful. We rode about 60 + miles from Johnstown to Uniontown, and the day began with a tram ride out of the valley (we didn't have to climb that four mile descent!). Johnstown has the world's steepest vehicular inclined plane that creeps out of the valley on a 71% grade. It's strong enough to carry a truck, but that morning it got to carry 25 cyclists and their belongings out of the Johnstown valley. I have some nifty pictures from the top.

What made the day most memorable was the company. In the afternoon I rode with Reuben and Dan, and the old adage that bonding over adversity makes for strong friendships certainly applies. Our route took us on US 119 during rush hour. US 119 suffers from a lack of a clear shoulder (or any shoulder at some points) and an abundance of trucks who have it in for cyclists. Between trying to avoid the debris on the side of the rode, the trucks who hugged the white line and rumble strips every 20 feet, our 20 miles on 119 made for quite an adventure. At one point Dan, Reuben, myself and Ali and Claire (who we picked up along the way) took over the entire right lane to force the trucks to pass us safely on the left.

After more signature Pennsylvania hills and confusing directions, we finally made it into our church in Uniontown where I had the fortune to be photographed and interviewed for the local newspaper. Emma and I rode around on our bikes in the parking lot for the photographer and answered questions regarding HBC. After our photo shoot, it was a quick trip to the Y for showers, dinner of lasagna and salad from the church (I am starting to get sick of lasagna), and an escapade in the paper recycling bins until dusk. We found an issue of Runner's World from 1989. You will not believe the hair and spandex featured in this magazine.

Oops!

Dear friends and casual readers,

Forgive my lack of recent blog updates. I have been both away from the internet in the past three weeks as well as happily seeking distraction with new friends and thus I have been avoiding my blogging duties. Now that we are almost one month in (wow! I'm actually not far from the Mississippi River as I write this) and the getting-to-know-you phase of group bonding is subsiding, I promise more frequent updates.

Since Day 6 highlights of my trip have included: crossing the Eastern Continental Divide in Pennsylvania, taking the World's Steepest Vehicular Inclined Plane from Johnstown, PA, fighting packs of barking dogs in West Virginia (and Kentucky and Indiana and Illinois), the Habitat Builds in Morgantown, WV and Lexington, KY, my homestay with Emma at Jan Taylor's house in Lexington, our visit to the Woodford Reserve Bourbon Distillery in KY, our visit to the Taylor Made Horse Farm in Lexington, KY, my day at the races in Louisville, KY, the magical evening in New Harmony, IN, and finally the 13 miles of gravel roads and torrential downpours through Illinois.

Entries on all of the above to come soon.

What I'm looking forward to?? Crossing the Mississippi River tomorrow and heading to the Gateway to the West!

Day 6: Hazleton, PA

My first Habitat build! Half our group of riders arrived at the Berwick, PA site prepared to help until lunchtime. Like Habitat of Greater New Haven, the Habitat chapter in Hazleton focuses on refurbishing dilapidated houses as opposed to building new structures. The site we visited today is a duplex that was almost completly gutted to the frames. Our mission was to remove the remaining hanging cabinets in the kitchen, clean and paint the second floor hallway and remove the chipping paint from the porch railings. After an unsuccessful bid to find screwdriverrs (Sam had the only drill) to help with the kitchen cabinets, I moved to cleaning and painting duty. With five of us going at the walls with ammonia drenched sponges, the cleaning went fairly quickly. However, the walls were caked in dirt up to about my hip level. In the history of this house hundreds of children must have run up and down these stairs running muddy fingers along the walls. No one could have ever cleaned it before today.

We quickly sprang into action armed with Chlorine cleanser and a bucket of water from next door. Though we couldn't r emove all of the dirt (it was that thick), what we could not remove, we just painted over. Grimey gray walls turned into fresh egg shell canvases awaiting the next wave of dirty-fingered kids.

Today we also reaped the benefits of yesterday's media frenzy. At yesterday's lunch break, reporters came to interview riders. One photographer stood at the top of the hill to take pictures of our entry into Jim Thorpe, PA, and a news crew came to video our lodgings in Hazleton. When we woke up today, we learned we were front page news in the lead paper and the number one spot on the local evening news!

Day 5: Stroudsburg, PA to Hasleton, PA

I missed the entry that brought us into Pennsylvania, but we have officially arrived. That hit home when I entered the local diner only to be greeted by a wall of cigarette smoke. Apparently in PA, you can still smoke inside restaurants. This was a blast from the past as the last time I requested the non-smoking section I must have been in my teens.

Today was also the longest ride we've had as of yet. 59 miles from Stroudsburg to Hazleton, most of which included some heavy climbing. In fact we gained 1,500 feet in elevation over the course of the day. From the Delaware River Valley to the foothills of the Appalachians I'm becoming quite the climber. Although, honestly, if I's going to make it to San Francisco, I don't have much of a choice.

Tonight we celabrated Frances' 21st birthday which involved more than a little revelry.

Maximum speed: 38 mph.

Day Three: Monroe, NY to Port Jervis, NY

Welcome to riding in the rain. An instant tuturial in keeping warm and safe while travelling along at 15 mph. During training, whenever it rained I simply went to the gym and rode the exercise bike in a dry, climate controlled facility. Unfortunately, one does not have that option when you must get to your destination for the day.

Unlike yesterday's ride there are no "major" mountains between Monroe and Port Jervis. Granted all of the Northeast us generally hilly so our ride along US 6 did include some hills but nothing like Bear Mountain.

One thing I did really appreciate about our ride today was the breaks. We stopped for ice cream at the Firehouse Deli and Ice Cream Shop just off Route 84 on US 6. We sat on plastic patio furniture inside the glorified convenience store and enjoyed massife portions of Hershey's ice cream. $2.25 gets you about three times as much ice cream in Greenville, NY then in Northampton, MA.

Maximum speed 33.5mph.

Bear Mountain

Day two: Ridgefield, CT to Monroe, NY

C-Siggies be proud of me, I climbed Bear Mountain in the middle of a 45 mile ride from Ridgefield to Monroe! We did it at about 6 mph. It was tough, and shook my confidence of how I will handle the Rockies, but we'll hit those seven weeks from now and I will worry about them then.

We also crossed our first state line today. There are some wonderful pictures of a group of us standing in front of the "Welcome to New York" sign in South Salem (Sara Whiting's hometown!) with pants down and bottoms up so to speak (I'm not sure if those will ever enter the public domain) as well as some standard victory shots. Later, we learned that the ground around said sign was completely covered in poison ivy, which has sent me into hypchondriatic fits of itching around my ankles. No bumps or oozing yet.

Thank you also to the First Presbyterian Church who hosted us for dinner tonight and Bob and Marian Mahran who graciously invited Lisa, Morgan, and I into their home (and guest beds!) for the evening. This gesture of kindness to a complete stranger will certainly not go unforgotten as well as the example set by their daughter Jen the world traveler and charity entrepreneur.

Miscellaneous thoughts: Squirrels will jump out in front of a bicycle as easily as they will dart in front of a car. Maximum speed today: 36 mph.