C&O Towpath	download/print this article
By: Justin Whiting

The sunless sky shaded in gray and black looms overhead as we travel a deserted path. Screams of lightning and cries of thunder enchant us as we journey through rain and forest. Is this the apocalypse? Will a giant wall of fire appear before us? No, This is Maryland. A tiny state wielding a fierce storm will be the beginning of our 3-day journey along the C&O towpath. The towpath was actually used by mules for the purpose of towing boats along the Chesapeake and Ohio canal, which of course runs right along side the towpath. A typical canal boat was 90–95 feet long, 6 feet high, and roughly 14.5 feet wide; just to give you an idea of what Mr. Mule was dragging along. Nowadays the towpath is used for civilian travel and leisure. So as we are strolling into Cumberland I take it upon myself to read up on the history of the canal and towpath in our free 2003 C&O trailside travel guide. As I am perusing through the sections I come across a small piece, only about 3 paragraphs long, titled “Hiking and Biking”. Since the point of our trip here is to ride the towpath I find it in my best interest to research this newly found information. It begins speaking of campsites along the way and how the path is a great way to see the national park. Hey, that sounds pretty good I think to myself. Then I read a little further. “The surface of the towpath varies from excellent to rough due to tree roots, rocks, chuckholes, and weather conditions”. Oh man, I don’t know about that, and what in God’s name is a chuckhole? So considering what I just read I come to the conclusion that the ride will be a little bit difficult at parts, but I am confident enough in my riding that I’m not too worried about it. For a brief second I lose my focus due to a crack of thunder and I look through the rain soaked window to see what’s going on outside. Oh well, just a rainstorm I tell myself and return to my reading. “Avoid using the towpath for at least two days after heavy rainstorms.” Oh come on! I’m riding this thing in less then 12 hours! Now I have no idea what I’m getting myself into but it’s not like we are just going to turn around and drive 7 hours back home. Such is life. We arrive at our first B&B and get settled in rather quickly. The Inn at Walnut Bottom is a quaint little bed and breakfast in the heart of historic Cumberland, MD and is an excellent place to relax and get ready for your next day, especially if it’s the type of day that lie ahead of us. I was shown to my room, which was on the other side of the house from my dad’s, and I settled in for the night. The big comfy bed was perfect relaxation therapy for me, and the warm hearted intimate surroundings helped me drift off into dreamland that much quicker.

The following morning I was fed a wonderful breakfast of fresh fruit, muffins, and some delicious eggs, and as I lazily made my way to my bike to slap on the ol’ packs I was met with bright smiles and happy faces. The whole experience of a Bed & Breakfast really starts you off on the right foot. As we went outside the first thing we noticed was the sun desperately trying to shine through the murky sky. It was a futile effort but we nodded our heads in appreciation and rode towards the beginning of the towpath. It wasn’t raining when we woke up and it wasn’t raining when we finished packing up. It started raining when we started riding, and I believe the first drop of rain fell in synchronicity with the first completed rotation of my pedal. I just had to laugh. So with delusions of grandeur we headed towards what would be the only route to our destination at the day’s end.

The very beginning of the towpath was in excellent conditions (much like the trail guide said). It was a mix of crushed rock and tightly packed dirt that worked quite well for us considering that it was raining. We saw few people as we rode the first 10 miles or so, mostly walkers in ponchos trying to avoid the weather and get back to their homes or cars. We cruised through the initial 15 miles or so at a solid pace and thought that we had overestimated the difficulty of the towpath. So with our narcissistic heads held high we figured we would be done with these lackadaisical 60 miles in no time at all. That idea was shot down in flames and burned crisply on the side of the path much quicker then I
anticipated. Civilization became a distant memory and the only thing I could focus my attention on was passing trees and avoiding puddles with depths I could not determine from my point of view. That view being one from my bike, which was desperately trying to forge its way through mud, rocks, and tree roots while maintaining any speed above 9 mph. I was so exhausted from trying to keep from sliding off the path that my legs were moving only because it is what they’ve known for the past 2-½ hours. Since I couldn’t seem to locate my bike’s cruise-control switch I decided to get behind my dad for a while and maybe catch a draft or find some type of relief because I sure as hell wasn’t getting any in the front. Well, that didn’t work either, and since there is nothing in between the beginning and ending destinations we really didn’t have anything to shoot for. So basically what we did was kind of like, “Hey, lets stop at the tree in between the two plants next to the puddle.” and that’s exactly what we did. We would rest for about 2 minutes or so and then hop right back on and get going again. It was tiring but at least some beautiful scenery accompanied us. The Potomac was, although mostly a muddy brown color, a very cool thing to ride alongside of. It exudes a sense of power over the land and that is something to behold. The canal, however, was a meek babbling brook most of the time. Shadows cast by the canopy made it non-existent in some places while in others it was like flowing black velvet seeming almost elegant. The fluctuating appearance of the canal was something I could not keep my eyes off of. As we rode along the canal’s shoulder watching it’s every move, we weren’t always watching the road ahead. Then a giant 3,118-foot long tunnel opened its colossal mouth and ate us alive. The Paw Paw tunnel, which is almost a kilometer long, took 14 years to finish. I stood there in awe of what stood before me and decided it would take another 14 years to travel through it. The tunnel was darker then night and the only light was, ironically as it seems, the light at the end of the tunnel. The far-reaching end of the tunnel was about as big as the head of a pin from my perspective. I blindly rode into the darkness and quickly decided that this wasn’t the safest thing in the world for me to be doing, especially since the path is elevated over the canal and if I were to fall it would be a quite unhealthy experience, so I dismounted my aluminum horse and walked the rest of the way with one hand on my stem and one on the handrail. I looked down and couldn’t see my feet or the canal so I began wondering what kind of creatures live in those dark cold waters and how fast I could run from them if I needed to. The actual tunnel was an amazing site though. It was big enough to fit one of the towboats and it was made out of small bricks. Hundreds upon thousands of square bricks perfectly assembled to create a massive dome shape. If you do decide to ride the C&O towpath and think you will be nearing the Paw Paw Tunnel then I suggest bringing a headlamp or light of some sort for safety reasons. So we walked through the tunnel and were greeted by a small waterfall dancing down the sides of a 40ft rock slab. It was a nice place to stop and take some pictures for this article and our archives. That is one thing you will love about the C&O towpath. There are photo opportunities around every turn and behind every tree. It is so beautiful that you can’t help but stop and enjoy yourself and enjoy myself I did. I learned about the Locks that frequent the canal and immediately showed interest in the history of the canal and towpath. A Lock is a section of a waterway that is closed off with gates and is used for vessels in transit. They are raised or lowered by raising or lowering the water level of that section. Now, most of the Locks have been overgrown by the earth around them, but there are a few that still have water flowing through them and you can see exactly how they worked. It’s pretty amazing to witness that level of ingenuity. There’s no way I would have thought of anything like that. If it were up to me I would have just said, “Well, we can’t seem to go any further lads…I guess we’ll have to wait until someone invents a flying machine so that we may transport things easier.” So it’s a good thing it wasn’t up to me. Another good thing about the Locks is that most of them were equipped with a Lock house, which is pretty much self-explanatory. The nicest thing about these houses for us was that they had covered porches and that means no rain on me, which makes me smile. We attempted to dry off at one of these houses but we just ended up putting on more clothes: vests, raincoats, sleeves, tights, fresh socks, and new gloves. I felt pretty warm for a good 2 minutes and then we left the house and a tidal wave of rain stole my warmth and in return gave me a kind of overall soggy feeling, but like I said earlier…such is life.

The end of the day came slowly but none the less it still came. We finally reached Hancock, West Virginia about 6 or 7 hours after we left that morning. The Super 8 Motel that we were staying was just up the road so we slowly made our way up the hill and eventually arrived at
the little hose equipped on the side of the building. Sprayed the 45” of mud off of our bikes and us and made our way to our rooms. The bathtubs became laundry centers and later just turned a mucky brown color. We ran into a group of police officers that were doing a ride from Indianapolis to Washington D.C. to commemorate officers that fell in the line of duty. I hope everything turned out well for those boys. The following morning we woke up to more rain and decided that we would ditch the towpath for the day and see how well our touring bikes could handle the terrain of West Virginia. We decided to basically ride along Route 9 the whole way into Shepardstown which was about 40 miles away and felt like mostly uphill, but the uphills always seem longer then the downhills. Before we actually hit Route 9 we spun through this little town called Berkley Springs, which is only like 4miles away from Hancock. We didn’t know that this little town existed and I wish we had because I would have much rather stayed there. There are 4 or 5 different Bed& Breakfasts in the town and almost 10 in the surrounding countryside. I never read anything about Berkley Springs when we researched our ride so we were in the dark about it. It was a nice place to ride through and I wish we could have stayed longer but we were trying to keep pace through the rain in hopes that we might out run it. We found Route 9 up the road and turned onto it. Instantly we got to ride up a very gradual hill that was about 2 miles long. The road itself was only 2 lanes so at times it was a little risky to ride it considering all the blind turns, but it was better then the alternative. We rode up and down and around and around this road for 40 miles and were finished in half the time. I am a road rider. I love to cycle the roads, so this was like home. I can deal with going 6mph up a steep grade hill because what comes up must go down, and we were so tired from the day before that I don’t think either of us did any pedaling on the descents. We pedaled constantly for hours gaining little distance the day before and today we were going to milk these hills for everything they were worth. As the hills took us through random little towns I started to notice people’s reactions to us. I had never really thought about it before, but as I went through these towns I never saw a single bike shop or cyclist on the road. At one point we passed a fire station located in the middle of a really steep hill, which forced us to pedal like 4mph, and as we were battling our way to the top I noticed the four firemen outside playing cards blankly staring at us. I could just see them thinking, “Why in God’s name would you ever wanna do that?” See that’s the thing, most people don’t understand what we do or why we do it. They don’t see the adventure and excitement in traveling the world on a bike. I feel sorry for them because they will never experience what we as cyclist do everyday we are on the road. So I quickly nodded an unspoken “hello” and continued on.

I believe this part of our journey to be a key element for writing this story. We have beefed up our bikes to handle rougher terrain then we are used to. However, we made a decision, as some people do from time to time, to take a day away from the trail and ride on the road. The important thing here is that you never really know where you are going. You always make sure you have a plan, but the best thing about cycling is that you have the freedom to go wherever you please. If you want to be a successful touring cyclist then your bike better be able to handle what is put in front of it. Our bikes handled like dreams and I was more then thankful for that. Sometimes you stray from the path set and just ride. Why do such a thing? Well, do it because you can. You can go wherever you want to on a bike. It doesn’t matter what continent, what country, what state, what city, or even what mountain. Go ahead and call yourself Lois, call your bike Clark, and set off into the great unknown. After you map out coordinates, directions, and a fine list of Bed & Breakfasts of course. You don’t want to get too carried away now. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on being treated like Kings and Queens and since I demand to be pampered as soon as I get off my bike we ended up at the “end all be all” of Bed & Breakfasts. The Bavarian Inn is like Disneyland for cyclists. It is the crème de la crème of B&B’s. First of all, we couldn’t even sit in the main dining room because we forgot to pack our suits and tuxedos. We were seated on the bottom floor with all the smokers, which didn’t bother me in the slightest since we all got the same food anyway, and I’m not the type of guy to really be hangin out with the upper echelon of society. So after my delicious jaegerschnitzel and kahlua cheesecake (which I highly recommend) we set off for bed. The bedroom was amazing and my dad and I actually shared a room this time. I crashed on the full size pull out couch bed and my dad occupied the big Victorian style bed. We slept like babies and were quite reluctant to get up the following morning to finish our ride. After we stayed for as long as we thought possible, succumbing to the temptations of a made to order breakfast in bed, we headed out for our last days ride.

The last day’s itinerary wasn’t a set plan when we left. What we had decided was that we would start on the C&O towpath and depending on the condition of the path and the ever-fluctuating weather, which was rain and lots of rain, we would either finish it out on the path or hop back on a main road. The nice thing about this stretch of the path was that there were small towns every 15 miles or so and that gave us many opportunities to get off the path if need be. However, contrary to what we believed to be another day of soaked clothes and dreary skies actually turned out to be the complete contradiction of what we had prepared ourselves for. We hit the path about 2 miles after leaving the Inn and headed East to our final destination. The path was in excellent condition for quite some time, which was a relief to say the least. The Potomac was as thunderous as a lion’s roar and the deep shaded gray fog that stretched out along the horizon was beautifully contrasted by the emerald highlights of Virginia’s countryside. A refreshing breeze from the river cooled us down often and sometimes turned into a head wind, which as you might expect slowed our pace, but the scenery was so amazing that we didn’t seem to notice. On this day of travel we stumbled upon some more cyclists making their own journeys here and there, some even across the United States, and decided to chat for a while. It’s always nice to meet people with the your same interests, especially when it has to do with traveling around on 2 wheels. Soon enough though, as we expected but not wished upon ourselves, the towpath turned into a horrendous path of thick mud, which seemed to never end. We were once again victims to our surroundings but this time it just didn’t seem so bad. We had much more for our eyes to feast upon and with the sun on our backs it almost made it a bearable journey through sludge and muck. We stopped often to enjoy our surroundings, converse with an indigenous clan of turtles, and take pictures so we could later evoke memories of what we accomplished and where it all took place.

The end of the trail for us stopped at a long line of cars waiting to board a ferryboat. The boat takes you across the Potomac so that you may continue your travels on whatever journey you are on. For us that journey ended in Leesburg, VA. So we boarded after the cars where all packed in, paid our $2, and where on our way. What we thought to be a short ride to our final destination turned out to be about 5 miles away through a spirit-breaking headwind. We forced through the gusts and pedaled with fury to the historic town just up the road.

We finally made it. We found The Norris House Inn down the road, met up with the Innkeepers Roger and Carol, and settled in. I was surprised at how a physically exhausting ride can be eased by a good B&B. The friendly faces, bright smiles, and good conversation just seem to make those tough miles disappear. So after we washed the days away in the
steam of a hot shower we headed to the town to peruse the antiquities and local art galleries. The quaint town seemed an ideal setting for the final chapter in the book of memoirs we developed over the last few days. So what is to be said of the C&O Towpath? Difficult at times and manageable at others, but if you are in the neighborhood and feel like
an excellent ride with a beautiful backdrop of breathtaking scenery, then heed my words of advise and stop reading this, get on your bike, and make me proud.