Cumberland, MD to Irons Mtn. and back – June 7-8, 2010

As many trips as Libby and I have made on the Passage and C&O Canal, she had never ridden the Cumberland Glide. The weekend weather was miserably wet. Jeff was at a show, Lib was with friends at a writer's conference. I cleaned scrubbed the bathroom. How exciting. I also kept an eye on the weather report – tornado watches and warnings – no reprieve from the housework. I looked at the forecast for Monday and Tuesday: partly cloudy and cool. Great!

I quickly hatched a plan. Tuesday morning, we'd pick up Libby's friend, TJ, in Cumberland, MD and drive the bikes up to Deal, PA. Jeff would drive the van down to Cumberland and meet us to pick up the car after he finished working at the Fort. My husband Jeff is one great guy. He's got a lot on his plate, and I just added a 4-hour round-trip drive just to do a shuttle to keep his wife and daughter happy. Sunday evening, when everyone had returned home, I unveiled the plan.

The princess slept in until eleven a.m. on Monday, and spent an hour concocting her own plan with TJ. "Mom, could we go down to Cumberland today and camp out with TJ? We could ride down the canal a few miles and camp". So, what started out as being a simple ride had now turned into an overnight adventure. The great gear round-up had begun!

The outdoor storage shed is my domain. Half of the shed is allocated to modern camping, hiking and bicycling, and the other half to re-enactment gear. I have bins and shelves – a space for everything and everything in its place. In theory, that is… I tried to make it so that I could easily pick up what I need when we have to pack for a trip. The trouble is that I've also made it easy for the rest of the family to raid the gear and take what they'd like to use as well. In my alternate universe, everyone would put things back in its place. In my reality, well, I'll leave it to your imagination. Can you say "mom meltdown"? Two hours later, we had rounded up enough of the gear to equip the three of us and packed it into panniers and rack trunks. Lib helped me load the three bikes onto the car and we departed at 3:30.

 My new phone came with a subscription to AT&T Navigator. I typed "Cumberland, MD" into the destination. "Mom, you already know how to get to Cumberland", Libby offered. I smiled and said, "Yes I do, but I'd like to see where this device takes us", as I headed out the back road – the GPS hadn't regurgitated the route yet. "Um… it's telling us to make a U-turn", Libby advised. I glanced at the directions and chose to completely ignore them. "But I don't want to head out Route 30 to 219 -- this way is shorter. The Navigator will re-calculate the route when we get further down the road", I replied.

Curiosity had gotten the best of me by the time I reached Stahlstown. I'm a sucker for back roads – the lure of the unfamiliar. The pleasant "voice" urged me to "go six tenths of a mile and turn right". Sucker was true – the road had dead-ended. I turned the car around and took a road I knew. I then became Luke Skywalker. I turned off the guidance system and used THE FORCE. We got onto Glades Pike (Route 31), a former Indian path, and soon passed Somerset and turned right to Garrett Shortcut Road. At Garrett, we found US 219 and followed it past Meyersdale (both are trail towns on the Great Allegheny Passage) and into the state of Maryland where we turned onto I-68, some twenty miles west of Cumberland.

I resigned myself to the fact that it was getting late in the evening, so I didn't stop to take any photos along the way. (These pictures are from the return trip.) There was a ball game underway at the field next to the wastewater treatment plant. Trains were entering and leaving the switchyard across the canal – with the customary clanging and banging, the hum of diesel locomotive engines, pfssst of air brakes, steel-on-steel noises – sounds as familiar as a lover's caress.

A couple of miles outside of Cumberland, the trail capriciously changes from doubletrack to singletrack and vice-versa. The grass is growing tall along the edges and center of the path. Then the grasses disappear, and the dance of the mud-puddles begins. It's not a perfect trail. Accept it. Embrace it.

The kids were great at waiting for me. About half-way to camp, I cut them loose and told them, "You have the tents. Why don't you go ahead and set up?" Off they flew down the trail, like I had shot them from a cannon. I dubbed their flight the "Arrival of the Fittest".

I rode on alone, lost in my thoughts. A voice from the opposite side of the canal interrupted the party-line in my head. I looked around (almost gave myself whiplash), my eyes focusing on the glint of steel razor-wire reflecting the sunlight through the sparse tree line. The stuff dreams are made of… o.k., well, nightmares. I took a quick assessment. Fenceline. Check. Trees. Check. Moat filled with man-eating crocs. Nope. Just a big ditch filled with fetid water. I'll be moseying along…

The Cumberland Federal Correctional Institution, located in the triangle of land between milepost 178 and 179, currently houses approximately 1200+ medium security inmates, and the adjacent


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minimum security camp houses 250+ inmates. The locals say "not to worry…" What, me worry? Not really, just a little unsettled. I'm more worried about train derailments than prison breaks. [My friend Neil (aka The Historian) and I witnessed a derailment outside of the Point of Rocks parking area a couple of years ago.]

The first 9 miles of C&O Canal National Park out of Cumberland are quite remarkable. It's a sylvan path that insulates you from the bustle of the Queen City. The tree line opens at opportunistic moments, much like Sally Rand's fans, giving a glimpse of farms, fields and mountains. There are residential areas, too – well-kept yards adjacent to the park. The rail line on the berm side of the canal – pay no attention to that distraction – it hides the vast train yard beyond. Mostly hidden from view are the two airports (alright - one small airport, one airfield), vast industrial complexes, and of course, the prison. PPG left the area in 1992, much of the factory demolished. What PPG leaves as a legacy is the name of the road, "Pittsburgh Plate Glass Road", and some wastewater lagoons along River Road. Allegany County Department of Economic Development took over the site and markets the area as the North Branch Industrial Park. FEMA's Emergency Housing Distribution and Logistics Center is located in the industrial park (you might recognize the hulks of trailers parked in the distance), as well as Hunter Douglas, the vinyl blind manufacturer.

I soon passed Lock 75 and was nearing the evening's destination. Only one thing stood in my way of reaching it. Actually two mallard hens (aka "The Girls") were taking an evening bath in one of the puddles in the towpath. With pit-bull ferocity they guarded the trail, one molested the wheel of my trike. I barely escaped with my life…

When I arrived at Irons Mountain, Lib and TJ were still deciding where to set up the tents. I joined the debate. Libby argued the merits of being in the bottom of the camping area with the picnic table and fire pit, surrounded by trees. I, in my middle-aged wisdom, argued the merits of camping closer to the towpath and not having to haul the gear too far – and being closer to the porta-john. I also mentioned that I forgot the insect repellant and we'd probably be eaten alive if we camped close to the woods. In the end, I prevailed. With the gear distributed and the tents set up, I dug out the stove, and made cocoa. Venue appeared in the night sky, and one by one the stars came out. Gradually, the light pollution obliterated the stars in the western sky and we called it a night.

I awoke the next morning (or else how could I be typing this?) after a fitful night. The trains crossing the river didn't bother me, but the constant drone of some big industrial machine did. At 5:30 am I was greeted by an irrepressible urge to run to the porta-john, and assaulted by a charley horse in my right adductor (inner thigh) muscle. It felt like I was running a three-legged race on one leg. I barely won the race. I had packed oatmeal for breakfast, but discovered that I failed to pack milk and sugar. No coffee for me either, then. Out came a can of beef stew from deep in the pannier, and a package of instant mash. Too much for one person to eat, TJ and I shared. Lib had strawberry-flavored oatmeal (yuck). I sent Lib to fetch water in the bucket to wash dishes with. "Mom – the pump handle's missing!" We had forgotten to check it out BEFORE we set up camp. We didn't really need the water, I had filled the Camelbacks and a couple of bottles before we set off, and we had only used 2 litres. We packed the dirty dishes in a plastic bag and put them away to wash later.

The girls were out and about, quacking and cavorting on the towpath, and not as grumpy as the evening before. They disappeared down the towpath. We leisurely set about breaking camp. People began to pass by our campsite. We decided to push off to Cumberland around 9:30 am.

I didn't get very far before I was challenged by a band of marauding geese. "None shall pass", I swore I heard one of them hiss. They were like the city toughs hanging out on the street corner. I was tougher… and I have the feathers to prove it. I then noticed the source of my sleepless night – the sign says "Mexico Farms LLC Pretreatment Facility". It handles the waste from Fibred, Inc. – a tenant in the industrial park. The spray devices are atomizers that emit water for odor control purposes. Odor wasn't a problem today, but it evidently was in the past:

"Mexico Farms, LLC -- Allegany County - On July 14, (2005) MDE and Mexico Farms, LLC (MFLLC) finalized a penalty settlement agreement whereby MFLLC agreed to pay $7,000 to the Maryland Clean Water Fund to resolve nuisance odor violations that occurred at the MFLLC Fibred Wastewater Treatment Plant during the period April 9 through June 21, 2004. Status:  Case closed.  (Reference #PS-06-0161). "

Today's odor was the sweet smell of honeysuckle. It permeated everything. Blackberry brambles, still dressed in dainty flowers, reached out past their confines every once in a while to snag you. Immature raspberries, cloaked in fuzz could be seen as well.

All was restful at the Pollard Farm – I decided not to visit this time and disturb anyone's slumber… The site is well marked, and access is easy from the towpath. I found the kids taking a break at Evitt's Creek Hiker/Biker. They grazed on York Peppermint Patties, Reese's Cups and peanut-butter crackers. I promised them lunch when we got to town, and that was enough to get them going again.

Lots of cyclists were heading out of Cumberland, working their way down toward DC. It was a group of riders from Exploritas (formerly Elderhostel). They waved as they passed by. We were encountering more and more people on the towpath. I saw four cranes up ahead. Not wildlife… construction equipment. I had noticed that the ball fields were torn up around the sewage treatment plant, but today I got a closer look (that brown building with the yellow stripe was the old concession stand):

Cumberland Wastewater Treatment Plant ENR Upgrade – Allegany County
A $6,000,000 ARRA grant, along with a $25,779,000 grant increase from the Bay Restoration Fund, will fund the planning, design, and construction of Enhanced Nutrient Removal (ENR) facilities at the existing City of Cumberland Wastewater Treatment Plant at an approved design capacity of 15 million gallons per day. After ENR upgrades, the Cumberland Wastewater Treatment Plant will reduce its nitrogen discharge by 63 percent and phosphorous by 85 percent, significantly reducing nutrients discharged to the Potomac River and ultimately to the Chesapeake Bay.

(I just love pictures of sewage digesters)



By the time I rolled into Cumberland, Lib and TJ had off-loaded the gear into the car.  We hastened to the Crabby Pig for a quick bite before resuming our travels up to the Eastern Continental Divide.

Great Allegheny Passage - West Newton & Cedar Creek

My Wednesday morning harp lesson takes me to Perryopolis.  I've been taking lessons for about a month, and putting Ghidra, the Terror-trike, in the back of the mini-van.  My hour-long lesson which was to have ended around 1 o'clock didn't end until 3pm.  We talked about electronics, amps, pre-amps, digital sound recording -- and I didn't have a harp lesson, but I did learn a bit.  Yesterday's trip sent me to West Newton for a minor derailleur adjustment.  It was late afternoon when I got there.

West Newton Bicycle Shop is conveniently located adjacent to the trail.  The young man (high-school age) quickly made the adjustment, so quickly that I didn't have time to look the entire shop over.  Five dollars plus tax... a bargain.  A quick trip across Rte. 136 took me to the West Newton Visitor Center at the reconstructed West Newton station.  Closed.  I missed meeting Betsy (a member of the Yahoo Group's GAP list) again.  I later found out that Betsy works mornings.  Stomach growling, I walked over to The Picnic Place across the street and ordered a roast beef sandwich and a bottle of water.  It was tasty, if not a bit messy.  I wore the sandwich well.  I turned around and headed toward Cedar Creek Park.

I passed up the opportunity to explore the West Newton Cemetery.  No bikes are allowed in, and I didn't feel like leaving Ghidrah out of my sight.  I soon came to the site of the (not so) old Banning No. 4 mine. 

You don't see a whole lot from the trail... a concrete loading silo, some other concrete buildings and a massive gob pile.  Coal seams have many layers of slate runnning through them, each layer an inch or two. A gob pile is the shale (and some coal) that remains after the coal is cleaned from it.  Author Bill Metzger says that a gob pile roughly represents 10% of the coal taken from a mine.  This mine must have been awesome -- just look at the satellite view!  A water treatment plant is on the river side of the trail.  It's an active limestone doser that treats about 6 million gallons of acid mine drainage per day.

(photo left: map of general area, photo right:  loading silo, photo lower right:  Gob pile, photo lower left:  LTV Steel doser, below: Satellite photo courtesy Google Maps

 That's not a mountain in the background - it's a huge pile of slate -- what was left behind after the coal was extracted.

View Banning No. 4 in a larger map

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Pseudofossils

As I approached Cedar Creek Park, I stopped to take pictures of the Liesegang Structures (Liesegang Rings) near milepost 36.  These formations in weathered sandstone are comprised of iron mineral concentrations within the stone which were resistant to erosion.  They left a bizarre honeycomb effect:

Pretty cool, yes?






A birdwatcher was sitting on a bench just outside of Cedar Creek Park, binoculars in hand.  I asked him if he saw anything interesting today, he said, "Not a darned thing".  I forgot to specify whether feathered or human -- no matter, the trail was barely peopled.

The bike concession was open, but quiet.  I stopped to look at a Sun recumbent and resisted the urge to ask for a test ride.  The guys were interested in Ghidrah and I let them take him for a ride.  After we exchanged more pleasantries, I excused myself to go look for the Port Royal tufa.  I rode a short distance past the organized and bike camping areas and past the upstream boundary of the park to mile 38.

"Tufa belong to a group of crust-like carbonate deposits that are formed through the organically and inorganically controlled precipitation of calcium carbonates from fresh water . The porosity in tufas is derived from authochtonous plants such as mosses, green algae or reed, which are encrusted by carbonates. Tufas are typically found as deposits of cool spring waters, which are supersaturated by calcium bicarbonate. The precipitation of carbonates in these meteogene deposits is assisted by photosynthesis of phototrophic microbes and plants. Generally, however, any decrease in the partial pressure of CO2 will trigger carbonate precipitation." 

--"Tufa." World of Earth Science. 2003. Retrieved June 03, 2010 from Encyclopedia.com: http://www.encyclopedia.com/doc/1G2-3437800624.html

I stopped at the memorial for the Port Royal Mine Disaster of June 10-11, 1901.  I thought I had a photo of the memorial, but must have lost it along with pictures from my 2007 trip when my hard drive crashed.

Overshadowed by the 239 deaths at the nearby Darr Mine, loss of life at this disaster was officially listed at 20.  A local historian claims an additional 10 lives were lost based on a review of cemetary records and other documents.

I continued to the I70 overpass and turned around for the return trip.  "X" marks the spot for Cedar Creek Park, the Port Royal Mine was located off of Port Royal Road.

The return trip was very pleasant.  I was invited to join a group of riders for a trail ride and pot luck supper afterwards.  I declined, but did say that I may take them up on their offer when they ride again in 2 weeks.  The joggers were out -- the temperature was falling ever so slightly, but the sun was no longer beaming down from overhead.  I saw a group (colony?) of whistlepigs (groundhogs) and chased a large doe down the trail.

As I got closer to West Newton, I noticed more people -- some boys on bikes, a couple with a Yorkie in a basket (sounds like a fast food dinner), a family with relatives visiting from Memphis.  I stopped at a house near the Buddtown marker and chatted with Lester, who was sitting in his garage.  We talked about people riding on the Passage, thru-riders, and lamented the fact that no one seems to take time to smell the roses.  Lester owns the big purple house in Buddtown (first group of houses outside of West Newton near Mile 34).  If he's out and about, take time out of your busy schedule to chat.