Blog of Josh Hall

Let’s cut to the chase and boil it all down. The C&O sucks. I hated it. I was caught off-guard and unprepared in many ways for it. The frustrations were unrelenting. I had to grow stronger, smarter, and more patient and tolerant of my own mistakes. That’s partially facetious and dramatic and partially deep truth. The history is kind of wild too, especially the Paw-Paw Tunnel.

I had just finished my celebratory late lunch as I finished my journey on the GAP trail. I didn’t realize it yet, but the ETA to my airbnb in Paw-Paw was off by an hour thanks to my directions telling me to take a few roads instead of staying on the path the whole way. As I put back on my metaphoric rose colored glasses and mounted my bike, I thought, “OK, C&O must be right up this cute little white boardwalk bridge.” And then panic set in.

Where’s the trail? What’s this train track? Did I go the wrong way? Am I on some sort of restricted rail access road? There was no one around. On the GAP, there were people to pass in both directions consistently. For the entire next 30 miles, I was entirely alone, never passing a soul going north and no one going south. For 2 hours, I was in panic mode as the sun started to go down and I was getting deeper and deeper into THE WOODS. I had planned for one more break, but I couldn’t afford the daylight. I had left my bike light on after going through the Big Savage Tunnel and the battery was dead. My cell phone battery was almost dead. Should I turn it off incase I need to call someone to rescue me? How far is it? I have no cell phone reception. JUST.PEDAL. FASTER. HARDER. I had to get to my van before dusk, because there was a sign that said no parking after dusk. Would they enforce it? Would they tow it? Would I have to explain myself? Would they come looking for me? What if I accidentally left a light on in my van and the battery drained? Did I leave my keys in Amanda’s car when she dropped me off at Meyersdale? JUST. PEDAL. I literally screamed. Multiple times. I was mad. I was mad at myself. I was mad at the C&O Canal. I was mad at my circumstances. Blame doesn’t fix anything. JUST. PEDAL.

I found my van just after dark. My legs were shaking. Now I have to find my airbnb. What can I eat? There were no restaurants, so I drove to gas station, which knew it was the only place around because they make pizzas and breakfast. My Paw-Paw Oasis became Liberty Gas station. I bought a 6 pack of beer and a large pizza. I drank a bottle in my car as I waited for my pizza to be done.

I had to make a new plan. The Paw-Paw Tunnel was closed, and I knew that, but I was traumatized by the C&O canal experience like a high school senior on track to be valedictorian but then fails a math test. My calculations were off. There was no way I was ready to tackle the bypass trail. I had to pivot.

I decided to drive to Hancock the next morning. I’d have to come back to finish the rest. I had to swallow my pride on that one, because up to this point, I was doing out and back runs to justify my struggle of not doing it all at once. This was cheating, it felt like. Had I been camping consecutive nights without a car, I would have had to push through.

I had a nice scenic drive up past Prospect Peak and stopped in a CVS for a few hydration packs. Thanks for the Galises for first exposing me to these. As I parked my van at the Hancock boat ramp, I noticed 2 trails (foreshadowing)…but, I just set out on what I knew to be the C&O. The plan was for Amanda to pick me up at the Big Slackwater boat ramp, but I ran into my first detour, and an undocumented one.

It didn’t start. My battery was dead. Amanda still had the rental. I tried using the Halo jump pack but it wasn’t turning over. I didn’t have jumper cables, so Amanda put on her extravert hat and asked a gentleman for help and he rescued me. Thank God that man had cables. The original plan was to go out to a nice place to eat as a thank you for driving out, but now I didn’t want to turn off my van and we aimed to just drive back home. I had a spark of inspiration after realizing we wouldn’t be getting home until after 9 though. Instead of going back 68, we’d go north to Bedford and stop at Jean Bonnet Tavern. I had been there before, but I knew I wanted to take Amanda there, even at the risk of not being able to start the van. After a great meal, the van did start back up and we headed home.

A few miles in, a freshly fallen tree covered the path. I can’t make this stuff up. Nature is against me.

Picking up my ~60 lb bike up and over it to continue wasn’t my first time and it wouldn’t be my last. As I came into Harpers Ferry, the tourists overran the trail. Groups of 20 foreigners taking selfies. I stood up on my pedals to become an intimidating presence. People started to respect me then. Instead of the “on your left” I started dishing out the “Clear the way” about 30 feet from them. #ain’tnobodygottimeforthat. I finished up at Brunswick. Amanda scooped me up and we did a little sightseeing at Harpers Ferry together, after she had just done some by herself. I had actually never been there and it’s pretty wild to see the tunnel and the massive cliff. I’d see it again. Amanda exposed me to checking off National Parks, so this excursion knocked off at least 2.

We headed a short drive away to the Roselius’. Though no blood relation, we always called them our cousins and Aunt Anita and Uncle Tom. I have so many memories in that house and with that family. A lot of life had passed, on both sides, so it was good to catch up. This was the first time that I was connecting with Aunt Anita and Uncle Tom as an adult, and certainly without my sibs and mom around. I loved making sense of my life and hearing their perspective of who my dad was to them. It was healing in a lot of ways, and I wanted them to meet Amanda too. Covid was wild at how close Amanda and I grew without any outside family and friends. But I digress. I didn’t head back out from Brunswick the next day though…I had unfinished business to take care.

I had decided that I wanted to be DONE when I rode into DC. To do that, I’d need to do the Paw-Paw Tunnel bypass. I had been scared by snakes, thrown by roots, rocks, and sticks, slowed by mud. I had been bored with the side scrolling video game layouts of the lock house clearing and back into the woods. I was close enough that I was ready to take on whatever it was that I needed to take on. Amanda dropped me off at the mouth of the Paw-Paw Tunnel and I went right in, knowing full well it was a dead end, but I was committed to completing the full thing. All the way in and then right back up and CARRIED my bike up the bypass. No one is riding up or down this. This is what I would envision a tough mudder to be like. Pointless, other than a mental goal in mind to complete the task. I must have taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque, so I had to get back on course. Again no one out, but I wasn’t deterred. Then, I noticed some bikers about 50 feet to my left and 30 feet above me. Going both directions. What was that? I came up on a zig zaggy bridge that connected the two paths and decided to investigate. A chorus of angels sang and a unicorn pranced over a rainbow. I had discovered the Western Maryland raiload bypass. Smooth, wide, clear black top. I laughed at the C&O beneath me. I have zero guilt. That was just stupid and masochistic to complete. I sped across that trail all the way to Hancock with the feeling of total victory. I outsmarted C&O canal towpath and I had the upper hand, for the first time. Now, I just need to FINISH.

My final run happened on Nov 17th, the day after my 40th birthday. I was fine with that. It was a choice. I parked my van at Brunswick around 10am with the intention to take the MARC train back. It was just above freezing, but I came prepared with layers and wool socks…unmatched, but still. C&O wasn’t going down without a fight though…a train separated me from the path. There was no way to go around it, let or right. Didn’t matter how far I’d go down either way. A worker in a truck was on the other side of the tracks, and when the train stopped moving, I yelled across “Can I just go through it?!?” and his response was “I wouldn’t recommend it. They are always watching.” WTF. A local road by on his bike pleading with me to write the township about it because they’ve been trying to show that these trains are breaking legal agreements by blocking the trail and they need to pay for a fly over. Politics. I stayed warm by riding around the lot, but I was probably too patient since I waited over an hour for the train to get out of the way. I should have gotten out of sight and cut through the train.

I finished the C&O in a very similar way to how I started; panicky. It was getting dark and an it was starting to rain. I took the mile marker selfie and B lined to Union station, while snapping a photo of the Lincoln Memorial. I arrived 10 minutes before my train…the last train leaving for the day…departed. Thanks to the facebook group, I came prepared with my 2 bungie cords and the attendant showed me where he wanted me to load in and strap up. I had the car to myself. I had worked hard that day to earn the ride back to my van, but it was done. There wasn’t a big celebration or adrenaline rush. There was peace. There was pride and a smile. I did what I said I was going to do.

My bike was covered with salt and nonsense from the drive back. Hindsight tells me I should have cleaned it or at least sprayed it down before putting it away for the winter. It was all rusty when I brought it back out in the spring. I can’t say I’m in love with my bike, but I can’t say I want any other one either. Partly sentimental, partly practical, but still partly a vibe of “nah, I’m good. I’ve reached my peak biking interest.”

I’d entertain doing the full ride, but staying in hotels or airbnbs. I’d want to do it with people I love. I’d want it to be something that solidifies existing bonds. I’d want to share something sacred. I definitely enjoy the Meyersdale to Cumberland tradition in the fall. Maybe take it back a little further back, to Ohiopyle, Confluence, or Rockwood. I’m so grateful for all the decades of work that have gone into improving and maintaining the trails. If you go out, I hope the C&O treats you better than it did me, and I hope you tell me about your journey!

Click through for the rest of the journey:

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