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.
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