Chapter 4: The Great Allegheny Pass

I had no idea I'd keep seeing stuff like this on the GAP

A red, smelly waterfall. When I read how it was caused my chemicals from a coal mine, it diminished the experience.

I was amazed how they had a free campground for people on the trail. It had Adirondack shelters and a pavilion, plus a wall of firewood. The Boy Scouts built it. Amazing!

For years I've been somewhat envious of those who live in Pittsburgh, because they have such a long rail trail at their doorstep. For years I've wanted to ride it, but it never made sense or me, because when I go out east, I go to Massachusetts. That's where I'm from and where much of my family lives. So much gas changed of late, however. Now that the East Coast Greenway is established, a trip up the eastern seaboard is viable. I had it in my mind to give it a try, once I got to DC.

Maybe the best thing about cities while on tour is the different food you can get. For me as a vegan, it's paramount. I knew if I wanted a doughnut or piece of cake, it was then or wait until DC. And that was if I were lucky-- Pittsburgh is no vegan mecca. A long time to crave something. I came away empty after a fruitless search. A couple of places were closed, so I went to Aldi instead, and felt grateful for that. Aldi's cheaper than anyone and has a lot of vegan stuff. I knew Pittsburgh is the second hilliest city in the country, so I didn't entertain any notion of leaving the downtown area unless it was the way to the GAP, which at that point was an irresistible siren song.

Unlike the O&E Towpath, where you're surrounded be trees within minutes, the GAP first straddles a highway, then goes through an industrial zone. It was busy that day, and before long, I was riding with another person. He was a burly, very blue-collar dude named Aaron, who I quite enjoyed riding with. "I'm jealous of you, I hate work!" I remember Aaron saying, with very much resonated with me, because if I were in his shoes, riding with someone off on an adventure, that's exactly what I'd say.

Though the siren call of the trail beckoned, I had almost no charge on my phone, which wouldn't horrible, because I wouldn't need to navigate, but without a camera I needed my phone more than ever. Aaron was real fun to ride with and he picked my brain about touring, stealth camping in particular, so I gave him a rundown of where to look, how to think. I wanted to continue on with him, but just then, I spotted an opportunity. A closed down restaurant on the riverbank. It had a large covered patio and the electricity still worked. Aaron, in a state of amazement, said "you could sleep here if you wanted!" He took my lessons to heart, it appeared. "You're ready for this" I told him and he headed back the other way.

I found a milk crate out back that made for a perfect seat, so I relaxed, ate and cleaned my bike, since I had time to waste. Then, an old van pulled up and parked in the back corner of the parking lot, close to where I was. An black guy on his late 50s hobbled out and began to stretch. I said hi, since he was so close. "Do you know if you're supposed to plant on the ball or heel of your feet when you run?" was the first thing Troy said to me. "I just got back surgery and I'm trying to rehab", he continued.

I spent a while with Troy, and while I did show him a few things about running, I steered him in a different direction. Running, in general, isn't considered a good thing to do anymore in a lot of circles. Either sprint or walk is the new paradigm. Focus a ton on your glutes--that's your engine and what protects your back. Stay limber and long. These are the things I stressed and showed him a few glute exercises, and the proper way to squat. The way he tried to do it, it's no wonder he got hurt. He'd been out of work for more than a year and was desperate to heal. He grabbed his lap dog from the van who barked with desperate impatience the whole time we talked. Troy said his goodbyes, which included a brief embrace, and I wished him well on his recovery.

"I really can't thank you enough. This meant everything to me. Good luck on your travels!" Troy, said, with almost a year on his eye. Maybe he had the feeling he was finally on the proper trajectory to get better. I really hope so. For whatever reason, a lot of the younger basketball players also ask me for advice on drills and training. They think of me like Mr. Miaggi from the Karate Kid. Some old dude with deep, secret knowledge.

With almost a full charge, I popped back on the trail. In no time I was confused as to where to go. There weren't many signs. This is often the case on trails that have road segments. If you don't know where to go, it's super easy to miss the trail. Often I only know because of other riders. Just ahead of me on the bridge was one. An older guy with a backpack. He wore jeans, which I thought must be uncomfortable and hot, because a heat wave had moved in that morning. It felt great. The cold nights were behind me for good

We snaked our way down the hill and the guy I followed screamed in fear "oh my god!" Then he crashed into the tall wooden fence on the right, and somehow came to a stop on his feet, leaned up against the fence. I flew to him to see if he was alright. " I don't know what happened, I blacked out, when I opened my eyes I was by the fence" he said, in a tone that hinted at embarrassment.

When he took off his backpack, it almost stuck to his cotton tee-shirt. He was a sloppy mess, and despite my entreaties to take a long break in the shade, drink a lot of water and have a salty snack, he carried on with no delay. I rode with him with a nagging expectation he'd collapse any second. Within minutes we were in a cool shaded canopy, however. He told me quit a lot about the trail, for which I was grateful. I stopped at the first water spigot and he continued down the trail.

That was the first water more than 200 miles. The first that wasn't a dribble or from a sink in a store. Another rider stopped to get water. I instead she go first. "I'm going to do laundry and wash up," I told her, so she filled up and told me how great the water was and how it was just installed recently. Thank goodness it was there. I went behind some trees and washed up and shaved. At last I was clean, had a full battery, and plenty of food. I was on the trail and would be for days. When I thought how the night before my tour was in dire jeopardy, I felt great about where I was, despite the slow progress those last two days.

Within no time, I was gobsmacked by just how beautiful the trail was, and just how many people were on it; not for a day ride, but multiple days. Bike tourers. There was a mass campground free for anyone. It was nicer than any I ever saw reserved for cyclists. I was in a bike touring mecca. Before I even saw any waterfalls or miss covered cliffs, I knew beyond all doubt that the GAP was the best trail in the US, and that it occupied a tier all by itself.

First there was a waterfall that had drippy moss and small ferns poking out. Then there was one that stained the rocks white, the one that stained the red and smelled like sulfur. Then another waterfall like the first, only encased in rhododendron. Then another. The trail had already left an impression on me, like a signet ring pressed into hot wax.

I was one of the slowest riders on the trail that day, I don't think I passed anyone, meanwhile, dozens passed me. I didn't care. I'd ridden from Michigan, had by far the heaviest load of anyone, and had 32mm tires, with the front one not having any knobs. Not only that, the day before I was sick enough to wonder if my tour was in jeopardy. Indeed I felt lucky. I felt luck to be on such a beautiful trail, with a working bike and body, even though my camera busted.

My grinding pace payed off that day. I was happy where I was. Sure, if everything went perfect and I didn't get sick or forget my helmet, I'd have been much further along, but I remembered my mantra, and didn't decry the delay. I'm wasn't in a race and had nothing to prove. I was there to see natural beauty. And so I was. Then, just ahead, I saw a hawk swoop down and land ahead of me just next to the trail. I rolled by and was within two feet of her. I went ahead a little and turned around, just then, she flew on to a tree just above, in her talon was a tiny black snake that wiggled while she flew. I watched her pick it clean, and tried to take a picture with my phone, but it was too far. I needed a camera.

It was a perfect day that couldn't get better, but it did. I'd downloaded a camping guide for the GAP and it told me there was a free spot at mile marker 110 called Cedar Creek. A magnificent campground it turned out to be. When I got to the H&B campsite at the far end, there was an older couple already there, "do you want some pizza, the delivered to us here, but it was so much bigger than we could have possibly imagined", they asked. I explained how I was a vegan, and assured them were it a vegan pizza, I'd eat it all. "We have an apple calzone, it's vegan I think, we got two, but it was ludicrous how big one was" they continued. When they handed it to me, it felt like it was a box of clay. We talked for a while, profusely thanked them, then made my way to the far Adirondack shelter. It had a wood stove and overlooked the river. It was surrounded by massive red oaks that clung to the heavily eroded bank.

The calzone was ridiculous, made with cheap apple pie filling, topped with cinnamon sugar and icing. It weighed at least two pounds. No wonder they were so keen on getting rid of it. While I picked at it, a group of dudes came just next to the shelter to walk down to the river. There was a path just a few feet from the shelter. It seemed like a gross violation of my space and privacy. They hung out below skipping rocks then went further down the river. Then another kid popped out from behind the shelter to go to the river. I gave him a dirty look since he looked like a scoundrel, and as soon he came back up, I started to blockade the path with huge branches. That definitely sent him and everyone else a message not to walk there.

Whenever I camp by a picnic table (which isn't very often because I tent to stealth camp), I'll make coffee before I go. It's more efficient. In truth, coffee is the main reason I bring a stove in the summer. Oatmeal too. I cook it by putting steel-cut oats in a Hydroflask with boiling water, give it a shake, and stick it in my clothes. It's more energy efficient and no risk of burning the oats. No stirring either. Only that morning, my stove wouldn't work. It'd been on the fritz for days. I would have to use plan B, which is to fill the Hydroflask with hot water at convenience stores, and make coffee with my french press.

It was a incredible day--my first full day on the GAP. I didn't take it for granted. Again I was one of the slower riders because I would always stop. There were too many waterfalls to make any progress. Each one encased in rhododendron. There was a spectacular amount of rhododendron. More than I ever saw. Some that spanned at least a hundred yards. The rocks were so old and weathered, they had their own little moss and fern blankets. Unless you stop any take the time to appreciate it, some of those little magic words, you never see. Never know even exist.

I usually remember almost every bike tourer I happen across. On the GAP, however, on account of the sheer volume of riders, I can only remember a comparative handful. One group I do remember, however, as our paths kept crossing, was three ladies, maybe in their 50s, who drove up from Florida. It was their first time doing anything like that. "We'll leapfrog each other a bunch" I told them, but they seemed incredulous. They thought I was super fast

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