I been everywhere man, I been everywhere: J. Cash
Day 7 of our Great American Rail Trail Expedition from D.C. to the Mississippi River dawned bright and sunny.
To get to our first trail we had to navigate the urban maze of Pittsburgh highways and freeways. It was a harrowing experience and I won’t burden you with the details.
The Panhandle Trail starts south of Pittsburgh, in Collier Township. And it runs for 28 miles to Weirton, West Virginia.
The thing to know about the Panhandle Trail is that the first couple of miles and the last couple of miles consist of more or less packed dirt. But once you hit the Washington County line (“A Preserve America Community”) you find yourself riding on glorious asphalt. And then you can really juke up the old velocipede.
I came across this curious memorial consisting of rows of PVC pipe each of which was topped by a shoe. Not much explanation beyond a simple inscription.
Curious, I Googled the monument and learned this:
None of the shoes match and they appear to come from a variety of sources. There are women’s dress shoes with chunky heals, rubber-soled trainers, and comfortable sneakers. Though most are adult models, some of the shoes are sized for a small child, while others would fit a still-growing youth. All have been decorated with after-market paint jobs, now disintegrating after years (?) exposed to the elements.
Kimberly Rutkowski’s obituary features just the bare minimum information. Her residence was listed as South Fayette, a large suburban township just west of where the memorial lives now. She was survived by a husband and two children. As the stone tells us, Ms. Rutkowski died in January, 2005. She was just 43.
We don’t know what Ms. Rutkowski cared about or did for fun, what she dreamed of or was made crazy by. We don’t even know what she looked like. But for those of us who never got to meet Kimberly Rutkowski, we can at least share the abstract experience-by-association of putting our best foot forward through the loving, humorous, and thought-provoking memorial in Collier Township.
Such is life.
I paused at what appears to be a one time quarry with a still reflecting pond at its base. It was worth pondering.
This is an amazingly beautiful trail. Almost the entire length is marked by streams, ponds and wetlands. Not to mention small towns and tiny hamlets perched on hilltops or tucked into hollows.
Welcome to Wilson Mill. The guy with the beard said so.
I’m just going to say this about historic McDonald: They certainly do know how to make the most of being a trail town. You need it? They got it!
Riding the Panhandle Trail you can see within sight of each other the infrastructure relic of a bygone Industrial Age and something that looks like it came right out of the Jetsons.
Now you’ve been warned. Never, never sit on a downed log.
Ohio’s Cottonton Creek trail is just 11 miles long. It’s in a fairly remote area, which may be one reason that most of its users appeared to be locals out for a Saturday spin.
But I loved this little trail. And for various reasons.
First, every water crossing on the trail is accomplished via a covered bridge that was donated either by a local business or a local family. This trail in the middle of nowhere is literally a work of community love.
The other thing about the trial is that someone went to great lengths to tell us as much as possible about the natural wonders we were passing. Eagle Pond. The Beaver Dam (Walt swears he saw a beaver but I’m skeptical). The Lily Pond. The Rookery. The Monarch Butterfly garden.
These people want to show off the best their neck of the woods has to offer. And they do.
You wouldn’t think it would take that long to ride 11 miles. But I found myself frequently stopping to contemplate life, the universe and everything. (Plus, if Walt could see a beaver why not me?)
I already mentioned the covered bridges. But I didn’t tell you about S.M. Cunningham, Jewett cashier extraordinary for almost four decades. We Cunninghams are so proud!
All good things must end. Walt ended it by unsuccessfully attempting to use the communal pump. With me it simply ended with a smile (which you can’t really see because I haven’t shaved since I left GNV).
And so it goes. And so it went.
Oh, and then we went to a brewery in New Philadelphia to watch the Kentucky Derby. Apropos of nothing at all.
FreeGNV 