When I was working for Bike Florida we always told our customers that we rode rain or shine.
But, listen, it was raining and cold this morning And shine was nowhere in evidence.
And with less than 40 miles ahead of us, I allowed as to how we might consider lingering an hour or so at the Starbucks next to our hotel before setting off on Day 8 of our Great American Rail Trail Expedition to the Mississippi River.
Alas, my personal Jiminy Cricket (Bruce, far right) reminded me to always let my conscience be my guide (dammit!).
“This thoroughbred has to run,” Bruce growled. Which struck me as a rather insensitive thing to say the day after a Kentucky Derby that we’d all rather forget.
But never mind that. I gave a little whistle and we set off on the Zoar Valley Trail.
Which is not so much a trail as a sort of cow path.
Suffice to say that nothing was going to…um…dampen our spirits.
Left: Bruce’s front. Right: Bruce’s back.
Wow! Can that thoroughbred run!
Not to mention walk.
Soon we came to Bolivar. Which struck me as being exactly the sort of small town Americana paradise that is worth lingering in. But no sooner do I commence to linger than someone behind me (probably JC though I can’t prove it) said “It’s too early for a drink.)
I am prisoner to conscience.
Soon we got onto the Ohio & Erie Canal Towpath. Which struck me as remarkably similar to the C&O Canal Towpath we had left behind in Maryland.
Except I am given to understand that the people who built the Ohio & Erie Canal Towpath were “separatists” who wanted to get away from the people who built the C&O Canal Towpath. So there’s that.
Then we came to Fort Laurens. And we learned that life was hard for the Virginia and Pennsylvania troops who were posted there to secure the northwest frontier. Among other things, they kept getting massacred by Indians.
I’m just gonna go out on a limb here and guess that said Indians never invited them to build their damned fort there in the first place.
Left: John Glenn reaching for the stars. Right: Walt saying “Hey! Look! Stars!”
Oh, and then we found out that the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers had closed our trail for some sort of levee work. Since we didn’t have a Chevy to drive to the levee we called the SAGs for a hitch.
Then we were on the road again. Well, not so much a road as a soggy quagmire that apparently fell in love with our bicycles. It kept embracing our wheels and refusing to let go.
I didn’t need a sign to tell me which side of the bridge the horses were using.
Listen. It was a wet, muddy, cold, laborious ride. But the instant we crossed over an interstate and I saw what was going on below, I was glad to be on my bike.
Horses. Because who doesn’t love horses?
The best part of the ride was after we got off the trail at Dalton and made a 6 mile dash to Orrville through farm country on hilly roads that apparently seldom see a car. It was bliss.
Jiminy Cricket at ride’s end in Massillon. Give Bruce a little whistle folks.
Seriously, is this any way to treat a bicycle? Hell, is this any way to treat a pair of legs?
Quote of the day: “There’s a huge difference between a 1 percent down grade and a 1 percent up grade.”
FreeGNV 