Last week, I kept a promise to myself and on Thursday morning I headed down to the Delaware Canal State Park (http://www.dcnr.state.pa.us/stateparks/parks/delawarecanal.aspx). The drive is lovely: about thirty minutes through rolling countryside, spotted with farms and, even better, lacking in developments. Rte 412 takes you through Bethlehem, Hellertown, and Springfield before meeting with 212, which is the road to the canal park. 212 ends at 611, a notoriously scenic road that mimics the Delaware River’s path. I parked in the small, packed dirt parking lot and did my usual clambering into the truck bed to unload the bike; stretching; and organizing my too-big backpack. I headed off south along the canal, figuring that I could ride south on the path until I got far enough – I was hoping for five miles – and then ride back along the road. I knew I wanted to try some on-road cycling because it’s one of the things that makes me most nervous and yet it will be the basis of my cross-country trip. That is, unless I can find Rails-to-Trails and canal paths criss-crossing the country, in which case I’ll be a happy camper. Or cycler.
I got perhaps a quarter mile along the path, which was narrow and mostly packed dirt or loose stones, and then came to a screeching –skidding – halt. Ahead of me, the path was completely washed out. A cement bridge lay several feet below the rest of the path, and even though I wandered closer to inspect for a possible path, it was impassable. Disgruntled, I turned and headed back the way I came. I paused at the parking lot to stretch before continuing north. Having seen what part of the path looked like, I was on guard for any other major obstructions. At first, the path ran through the woods, and unlike the southern route, it was packed dirt and much smoother. I passed a few people walking dogs or just out enjoying the pretty morning. The towns I passed were quaint and quiet; the roads seemed wide and empty, which I took to heart considering I wanted to cycle back on them. Eventually, the towpath left the forest and I found myself cycling along in brilliant sunshine, the Delaware sparkling and dancing to my right. Along the way, I had encountered a few rough patches where there were looser rocks, roots, or areas where the surface had washed out and created divots, puddles, and extra rocky portions. Out in the sunshine, however, I encountered more concrete bridges and a few places where the trail suddenly went sharply downhill and up again; in some places I had maybe a foot –maybe, and even so, not always a clean foot – to balance upon with a tumble into the river on one side and slipping into mud, rocks, and really rough terrain on the other. Sometimes I had six inches, and you can bet I tightened my core to hold myself in place as I maneuvered carefully onto stretches of concrete sidewalk. I’m sure that, had I more confidence and capability, I could have gone right through the puddles or miscreant sections of washed-out trail. In time, I’ll be braver. 
I stopped in this open section to take a few pictures, and then again when a man walking his dogs questioned my access point and my opinion of the trail. We chatted for a while, introduced ourselves, and off I went. The trail returned to the woods after that, and was uneventful until I hit a patch of sand. A family acquaintance is an avid cyclist: he participates in a lot of state-wide events, especially those benefitting the Dana Farber Cancer Foundation, due to his son having leukemia as a kid. A year ago, this man road over sand, braked, and had a horrendous accident that left him seriously injured and in the hospital for months. His story flashed through my mind as my bike twisted, bucked, and halted before I could figure out how to avoid the area. Sand is not a friend, apparently. I was fine, and kept going, cautiously avoiding the next few sections of sand.
I ended my sojourn at another trailhead, this one with a huge lock system and what seemed to be a visitor’s house. It was more official than where I had parked, and clearly a starting point for visitors seeking a history lesson and not just the experience of the canal path itself. There were many bridges and locks along the trail; maybe every half mile or so. Some lead to houses; others to the road. When I reached my limit for how far down I wanted to go, I sped up a paved hill and with a deep breath headed onto the road. I hit another small incline around a tight corner first, and was relieved when I got my gear shifting correct. The down-hill was much steeper, and I finally shifted into third on my left gears. I’d been only in second on that side, and the difference going downhill was awesome. I managed to maintain an average of 20mph for the trip back; the warm-up on the canal helped. When I drove this route the next day with my mom, I realized that there was a lot that I had noticed, but not seen. The town of Riegelsville is gorgeous, if haunted. Trees were coming into flower, pinks and whites; the houses are old, either stone or clapboard; and the library sits majestically upon a hill. I did not venture down to the Riegelsville Inn, said to be one of the most haunted structures in the state. Hopefully, as I get out more and become increasingly comfortable, I’ll actually see what I’m passing instead of just flying by it.
I navigated my first traffic light, mostly by whispering, “Stay green, stay green, stay green!” and later was passed for the first time by an 18-wheeler. I felt quite small, and wondered incredulously at the cycling tip I just read on a Bicyling.com email that a great way to increase speed is to ride right behind a vehicle because you take advantage of the total lack of wind resistance. It’s called “motorpacing” and was a “this works, but don’t ever try it” training tip. I think I’ll stick to dealing with wind. I returned safe and sound to my own vehicle, and was proud of my almost-nine mile trek. It’s a route I will absolutely return to, even if only to continue learning on a relatively flat road with little traffic. Hopefully next time I’ll get some better pictures, too. I’m not sure that, given the economy and rising gas prices, driving an hour round-trip for a 45-minute bike ride is worthwhile, but I’d like to go back down and ride for longer. It seems like a good place to push my mileage higher while enjoying the view. I also know that there is a good loop from the Bucks County Horse Park to the junction of 212 and 611. It’s longer than I’ve done yet, and I would need to be ready to encounter some serious hills, but at some point it’s something I’d like to try. I could also park at the BCHP, and cycle down 611 to 32, in Upper Black Eddy, PA. There seems to be a loop in there, but again, it’s more demanding than any of my little routes thus far, but in time I’ll get there. I do enjoy a challenge, after all.
Part II: On-Roading
I achieved another goal this week when I upgraded my basic flip-phone to smart phone. I’d had the iPhone in mind, but went with the LG Quantum instead. I figured with my newfound hobby taking me out and about into the wilds of Pennsylvania, I needed some sort of GPS function that would allow me to figure out where I am and how to get back to where I want to be. Also, I cracked the screen on my other phone, which was the third I’d had in a year. Seriously time for a change.
To test this theory, and to get some road experience, I headed up Rte 512 to the Bethlehem Diner and CVS that sits just on the border of suburbia and farmland. I parked at the back of CVS, taking note that there were no “CVS Customer Parking Only” signs, and ignoring those declaring, “No Skateboards, Rollerblades, and Bicycles.” I promised to the security camera that’d I’d buy something when I returned, and to please not have my car towed. Off I went, cycling first through a burgeoning development (or newly constructed; maybe not so successful in the populating) and I appreciated the slow transition to my totally on-road experience and the lack of traffic. I quickly found myself on an open country road, and my first legitimate hill. Gears switched properly and I made my up slowly but steadily. At the very least, I stayed in a relatively straight line. Props to me. I flew down the much longer other side and was thankful for that arrangement; not sure I would have made it up if the situation was reversed. I like the idea of open country roads because a) not too many people travel them; b) they’re open and wide enough for those few cars to pass with ease; and 3) they lead to really lovely vistas. I passed cows; ramshackle barns; farmers getting on with their next set of projects; front yards packed with toys and cars and laundry lines; and, of course, empty fields ready to be plowed, planted, fertilized, and so forth. Mostly it was flat, but I found myself eager for the few hills that I came across because, as much as they intimidate me, I know I have to tackle them sooner or later; and the more I do, the better I’ll get.
Again, I found that once I stopped for my first drink and stretch (and to check out where I was on my awesome smart phone map), I was able to pick up the pace and hold it. I was averaging 18mph, and it felt awesome. When I’m riding my horse, I only notice the breeze on my face because it relieves the heat and sweat; I’m generally completely focused on what we’re doing and don’t notice much else. On a bike, there isn’t as much thinking needed, at least not out in the middle of nowhere with no cars around. I was able to appreciate where I was, and to feel the cool relief; smell the cows; hear the gurgling of Monocacy Creek. I found this easier and more fun than I expected, and it makes me increasingly eager to try longer trips, to drive out into the country or to parks and try cycling out there. I’m thinking that I’d like to take a trip to Gettysburg and try out my skills there. It would be practice for the actual cross-country trip: drive to a location, park, and then bike from there. Not sure if I’d stay in a motel or the back of my truck yet; I guess go prepared for both. I know now that I’m capable of cycling more than I have been. I never come back exhausted and unable to do another mile. I generally feel like I could have a brief break for hydration, stretching, and nourishment; and then keep going. I’d like to test this theory, perhaps on a weekend when I don’t have to head to the barn. I’m thinking of heading to Jacobsburg Park this weekend to see how it works out. The hiking backpack will come in handy, as I’ll need food and probably more water.
I returned to CVS and to my truck, but was dismayed that the whole thing had taken only 45 minutes and covered about nine miles. It seems like I should have been out longer or gone farther; maybe I should have rested at the truck and then done another loop. Perhaps this is something to consider for next time. Or I find a longer circuit to being with, and force myself to be out longer. At any rate, I was proud that I’d finished my first road ride, and managed both traffic and hills. I saw more than I did when I was down at the Delaware Canal Park, so hopefully even in that amount of time I’ve grown more confident and comfortable. I don’t think I have a preference yet when it comes to towns like Riegelsville or farmland like in the Hanoverville Rd/Jaindl Blvd/Township Line Rd/Silver Crest Rd/Newburg Rd/Georgetown Rd/Hanoverville Rd loop. Luckily, I enjoyed them both, and am eager to head out again, keep exploring and challenging, and just go wherever my next trek takes me.
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