Sharpsburg, Maryland to Harpers Ferry, WV.: Retreat of the Bog Monster

June 2, 2019

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Today was a 21 mile lark-about. We slept in as late as we could manage (seven AM, not exactly sawing logs there) and headed for the common room of the B&B to start sucking down coffee. Chris, the husband of the husband-and-wife team who own the Inn, shot the breeze with us while he had his morning coffee too. He is a retired contractor from the defense industry, but now his passion project is being a certified historical guide at Antietam National Battlefield. After he finished college, but before his contractor days, he joined the army. After leaving the service he earned a masters degree in military history, and with that background became a battlefield guide as he ended his working career many years later. Getting certified sounds like a pretty gnarly process! You have to know all sweeping history of the civil war in general, and all the details of the Antietam battle specifically. He said he leads about 100-120 tours a year. Man, just his offhand mentions of stray facts were a master class for us. Breakfast was a carnival of tastiness, and we got to meet their two Shih Tzu dogs, who patrolled the breakfast area for any dropped food.

Marg with volunteer battlefield “docent.” VERY knowledgable guy about everything Antietam.

This day was planned to be short to allow us plenty of time to bike the battlefield. I won’t even try to relate all we learned, which was still a drop in the bucket. Oddly, this spot where nearly 23,000 men died in battle is supernaturally beautiful. Check the too-many pictures we’ve included. One mention must be made of the many battlefield “docents” we encountered. At important locations in the battlefield there are volunteer historians who are happy to share the significance of those specific areas during the battle, and share their encyclopedic knowledge about ANY question you may have. We learned so much from the one fellow we spent about 30 minutes chatting with, and you could tell he loved to contribute this way.

Rumor had it that there was a bear or some other large animal on the battlefield. Naw, just Mike reaching for fruit from what he thought was a Paw Paw tree. Stupid bike tourists.

We toured and viewed about 2-3 hours and hit the road afterward. Recall Margaret’s brake issues? As expected there was a healthy downhill from the Sharpsburg prominence to the river/C&O path, so we dismounted the bikes and walked them down that pitch. The shame, oh, the shame. Lesson learned here. We did take the touring bikes out for a shakedown ride before the tour, but a single, unloaded 20 mile ride does not replicate touring conditions apparently … as if we shouldn’t have known that for crying out loud. Our error. Frankly, my brakes are feeling a little mushy too. Face it. We blew it and deserve the complications for this. Acting like a couple rookies.

“Why don’t they tell us you have to have your brake pads replaced sometimes?” Walking the rigs down a steep hill because the rear brakes are gone.

We re-located the C&O towpath and wondered what kind of mood our old friend would be in today. It looked like bad news at first … We pushed the bikes up a little grassy pitch onto the path. As we tinkered with things, Margaret looked to her right, with her glasses off, and said, “What the heck is that? A stick? Or, what?” Hmmm, no it was a large black snake about the circumference of my forearm sunning itself on the rocks and gravel.

See that big, black, curly stick to the right of Margaret? Yeah. That’s a snake.

Not many things give Margaret to willies, but snakes (especially large black ones) do, and she has a momentary case of the Howling Fantods, accompanied by appropriate noises that expressed a mixture of fear, disgust, and complete lack of pleasure. The snake, sensing our presence, and probably being just as displeased as we were, slithered off the trail and allowed us to proceed without fear of death by bite and/or constriction.

We had to manhaul the bikes and gear up a spiral metal sets of stairs to the top of the walkway across the railroad bridge. Good workout!

Best of all, the Bog Monster was no where to be seen! Nary a glimmer of him today. After the battlefield, there were only 13 miles to the bridge leading to Harpers Ferry, WV. There is a pedestrian walkway next to the railroad bridge to cross the river. On the Maryland side you have to walk up a a spiral, metal staircase to get to the walkway. One has to unload the bikes and carry the panniers up first, then return for the bikes. That was a sad discovery. To pep things up, while we were getting ready to do that an Amtrak train barreled across the bridge and through the tunnel. Impressive and a front row seat to the mechanical power of a locomotive.

Looking up at the Amtrak train barreling into the Harpers Ferry tunnel on the Maryland side of the Potomac. This is where the pedestrian bridge is to cross the river.

Harpers Ferry is a tiny town, of slightly over 300 people, but positively drips with history. Our main concern was grinding up the VERY aptly named “High Street” to get to our rental for the night. I swear to God, that hill was 12% if I ever saw it. And it felt like a mile long, though probably more like a third of that. I could hear Margaret muttering behind me as our thighs were set on fire from the get-go on this climb. Of course, our rental was literally at the crest of the hill. The cottage was a tiny, fairy tale looking sort of place and we loved it, especially its fully stocked Keurig machine. No more than 20 minutes after we arrived some rain starting falling, and then hail. Hail! It was 70 degrees out and hail was pelting down! Crazy. We took a video but forgot to take a photo. While it fell, two afternoon coffees each revved us up to walk around town the next 3 hours after the storm passed.

Today's ride: 21 miles (34 km)
Total: 285 miles (459 km)

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