GAP to Flight 93 National Memorial (again!)

This summer my dear cycling friend from Seattle, Barb, was plotting to escape the Pacific Northwest for the first time in nearly two years, and her first stop? Pittsburgh! She asked if it was possible to ride to the Flight 93 memorial (yes!) so we began brainstorming and making arrangements. She is a successful time trialist and even bike toured in France and Turkey, but had not yet discovered the modern wonders of gravel biking, such as wider tires or the ease of lightweight bikepacking gear. One of my ulterior motives for this trip was to indoctrinate her into this new world and expand her cycling universe so that her bike stable would adhere to the N+1 principle. One of our club members generously provided his Jamis Renegade gravel bike for her to borrow (thanks Chris!). The small 48cm frame with 650 wheels fit her perfectly and the 38mm tires gave her an instant, secure feel on uneven terrain. With bright new orange handlebar tape, we quickly dubbed the bike, “Pumpkin.”

Since I had done this trip two years ago and know the GAP (Great Allegheny Passage) pretty well, it was a straight-forward plan that included three leisurely days to ride to Flight 93. The only element out of our control was obviously the weather: every East Coaster knows that August can be the most miserable month of heat and humidity, if not straight-out thunderstorms. At some point in the game, however, you accept nature for what she is and roll with what you’re given.

I planned to skip the 20-mile urban section of the GAP from Pittsburgh through McKeesport. Historic Steel City features and great river sunrises? Sure, but we were limited on time and my priority was to flee the city and get straight to the good stuff (i.e. quiet, shady woodland trails). Turns out that was a wise decision. Our first day on the trail was at the end of a week-long heat wave. Pittsburgh’s forecast called for a heat index near 100F degrees. Nope, not for me. On the eve of our departure I thought that avoiding the city’s radiant heat made me the smartest person ever to clip into bike pedals, but Nature had something else up her sleeve as always.

End of Days

This summer had seen countless scattered thunderstorms. On one hand, this makes for an exciting backdrop to otherwise long hot days as you wonder whether your neighborhood will hit the lightning show jackpot. On the other hand is the collateral damage such as dogs believing it’s the end of days and powerlines that become powerless after succumbing to trees felled by rain, wind, and lightning.

The night before we left was one of the longest, brutal storms to hit our area. Thunderstorms usually past through quickly and move on to gain more energy down the road, but this storm was enormous and lasted a solid two hours. Our 80-pound dog was in our lap, losing hair and (seemingly) days on his life. The power went out so we showered and packed in the dark with the help of our bike lights. Around midnight the power came on…then off…on then off…for the next three hours. I know that because all the electronic gizmos in the main room I was sleeping in (Barb got the quiet bedroom) flashed and beeped back to life only to go quiet again. On top of that, the air conditioning was also out. I felt like I was lying in a tomb without the gentle hum of cool air drifting into the room. My eyes were wide open, waiting in anticipation for the next jolt of sound from the gizmos and for the aircon to blow a few cold puffs of air before being snuffed out. There is nothing louder than a mind alone in a stifling, noiseless room. The hours towards my 5 a.m. alarm ticked away.

Bart.png

Day 1: Boston to Confluence

Uber-Mom and Dad

I finally gave up on sleep and rolled out of bed at 4:50 a.m. Might as well pack the car and get moving. Two Bialetti Moka pots of coffee later, we had bikes and bags in the car, ready for Uber-Dad to drive us 45-minutes to the Boston GAP trailhead. The sun broke through the clouds. Mist lingered from the wet lawns. Our vehicle survey saw no signs of major damage along the roads. We had a perfect long day of riding ahead of us. The storm had left us behind….but not really.

At the Boston trailhead we unpacked the car and prepared the bikes with their touring bags. My Revelate saddle bag would hold a drybag of my non-bike clothing, a second cycling kit, toiletries, a few electronic charging cables, and most importantly my autoimmune meds. I literally can’t get out of bed without them. My handlebar bag and top tube bag were all set, but where was the drybag? I overturned the towels and miscellaneous items in the car, but my drybag was….not….here. No where. Inconceivable!

I texted home to see if it could be located, and after a few minutes it was. On the garage floor. My brain had been so flattened by the lack of sleep that it completely overlooked one of the most important pieces of gear. I’m a planner and I execute using a physical and mental system of checklists and time checks, so this oversight was unheard of and unacceptable. My ability to remember important, crucial details was let down by my partner, my brain. Is this how the slide to dementia begins?

There was no time for panicking or wondering, I needed a plan fast. It was almost 8 a.m. and the heat would only become more oppressive the next eight hours. We had to get moving as quickly as possible down the trail, but still get my bag to me without my dad spending the next five hours driving the Youghiogheny River looking for us. If my mom drove the bag to a meeting point at Century III Mall (RIP), my dad could find her there, get the drybag, and then intersect with us down the trail. The Buena Vista trailhead was only 12 miles down the GAP so that would give us an hour to rendezvous there. The handoff between Uber-Mom and Dad worked perfectly, but Nature threw us another curve ball with a downed tree on one of the only roads to Buena Vista. A few detours later, my dad finally arrived at the trailhead with my bag around 9:30 a.m.. The rescue plan worked and he even managed to get home in time for his own two-hour ride!

Listen to the Lorax

Finally on our way an hour behind schedule, but with no other mishaps, Barb and I began to enjoy the calm scenery of the GAP and small towns along the way. While the mercury climbed in the urban areas, the green canopy of the GAP stayed remarkably cool. It wasn’t until we arrived at our lunch stop in Connellsville that we realized what an oven it felt like without the trees’ protection. The Kickstand Kitchen’s air conditioning was refreshing, but only because the surrounding city blocks were baking. A few Cokes and sweet potato fries later, we retreated back to the trail and its natural aircon. The vegetation grew more lush as we rode closer to Ohiopyle. Ferns clung to the trailside cliffs, and mountain laurel became more frequent. I kept thinking of planning another trip when they’re in bloom. Every mile or so I would take a deep breath and yell out loud, “It smells so GOOD! It smells like….nature!” It was true. The air was loaded with a scent of cold, fresh water flowing from the mountains and undisturbed tracts of trees and undergrowth cleansed from last night’s rain.

The stop on the bridge over the gorge at Ohiopyle was a great surprise for Barb. It’s one of those sites you want people to discover on their own as the view is revealed riding out of the tunnel of trees. The rapids were flowing and kayakers deftly dodged the rocks below. I had been daydreaming of seeing this exact location again the past two years and was not disappointed. There was comfort in knowing that beautiful scenes like this don’t often change and I could share the same experience with a friend.

Confluence Sweet Confluence

My plan to arrive in Confluence by 2 p.m. to beat the heat of the day was delayed, but all considered it was not the disaster it could have been. The tree canopy was a haven from the heat. When we crossed the small footbridge into Confluence, I looked down at the slow moving Youghiogheny and my first words to Barb were, “Do you want to jump in the river?!!!” I didn’t have to ask twice. It’s like the river was waving its arms, inviting us so finally stop and reward ourselves. We found a shaded picnic table on the riverbank, and conveniently, a ring of stones in the water for us to soak in away from the current. What a welcome! The river was ice cold and our legs were so grateful. All that was missing were a few beers to lay in the icy water with us. I can’t think of a better way to end a 68-mile ride on a hot August day.

Our B&B for the night was The Smith House Inn. This was a gem of a restored home. You can’t pass by without noticing its huge, white wraparound porch furnished with rocking chairs and a hammock. We felt sheepish about showing up after our river soak, but he innkeeper, Deb, didn’t blink twice at our disheveled appearance. It was such a relief to be among hosts who understand cyclists! Our bikes were happily stored in the secure garage. Inside, Deb gave us a tour of the inn’s amenities, including a refrigerator filled with beer and wine, and all the coffee we could make. Our renovated rooms were cozy and cool in the air conditioning. Refreshed by a shower and clean clothes, we made our way to a delicious early dinner at the River’s Edge Cafe - and a whole bottle of Prosecco. The quiet summer evening ended with lounging on the inn’s front porch, reading and swapping photos, and looking forward to two more rejuvenating days riding our bikes. The only disruption to the neighborhood silence was the drumming beat of hummingbirds feasting on nectar at their feeder.

The Day 1 Route

This section is a long slog. Ever slightly uphill and never an opportunity to stop pedaling or to coast. But I won’t complain because it’s also mostly in the trees and the view approaching Ohiopyle is worth it!

Strava details: 68 miles, 726 feet elevation, 12.8 mph average speed, 5:20 moving time

Click on the map to open it in a new interactive window.

Day 2: Confluence to Meyersdale via Big Savage Tunnel

It was only 30 miles to our next B&B in Meyersdale, but another 10 miles down the trail would tick off three features on my GAP to-do list: The Eastern Continental Divide, the Big Savage Tunnel, and the overlook on its eastern side. Round trip, that would give us a 50-mile day with plenty of sight seeing. The weather was much more pleasant thanks to another storm overnight that brought in a cold front, but luckily no blackouts. Homemade breakfast at the Smith House included a frittata, hash browns, bacon, coffee, and juice. We were powered up and ready to explore!

The ride didn’t disappoint. There were so many converted railroad structures to make note of, including the incredible 1,900-foot long Salisbury Viaduct that crosses high above farm fields, a highway, and working railroad lines before entering Meyersdale. It’s moments like this when you are so appreciative of all the hard work done since the early 1970s to reclaim this rail line, and maintain it all year round for recreational use.

We completed my three GAP objectives. The trail up to the Continental Divide just HAD to have a little extra kick at the top to let you know this was the highest point on the GAP, but at least they treated us to some fresh pavement for a few hundred feet on either side. The 3,291-foot Big Savage Tunnel , built in 1912 and restored in 2003, was well lit with lights along the ceiling, but we still used our bike lights to better see what we were riding over - or what might be waiting ahead of us. I held my breath quite a bit, and was relieved that we didn’t encounter a so-called ghost that a club member swears he encountered when riding alone through the tunnel two years ago. From his account, a flash of color appeared in front of him and then disappeared into the tunnel wall. Maybe a friendly railroad worker keeping cyclists safe? Not our day to find out. The eastern end of the tunnel opens to an expansive view of the valley that stretches into Maryland. It was a perfect spot to rest before our return to Meyersdale.

Oh the places you will go

And the people you will meet! Returning to Meyersdale, we stopped by the visitor’s center right on the trail. It’s not to be missed. Besides the important restroom facilities and water fountain, there is a gift shop for all your GAP and train enthusiast needs, a small museum on the history of the town and railroad, and a model railroad exhibit. It’s a great place to stop for break, making it a prime location to meet some locals and other riders.

Outside the visitor’s center, a barbecue was on with hotdogs, drinks, and chips for anyone stopping by. Other riders were mingling and enjoying the snacks, including a family with three young girls who were riding the GAP. I asked how they were liking the ride and received a typical dry kid-reply: “It’s fun…it’s ok.” I was so excited to see these three on bikes that I wanted to dig a little more and asked if they’ve seen any cool sights or animals. “We saw a bear this morning,” they replied without ceremony. WHAT!? I tried to get more details about seeing a bear, but they just wanted to eat their dogs. Maybe once they’re back on the playground with their peers they’ll have a better story to tell.

We checked out some books for sale on a picnic table, and turns out the authors of one book, Get Up and Ride, were hosting the barbecue with sales proceeding the GAP trail. Barb had started reading the book at the Confluence B&B the night before and had been raving about the humorous stories of these two men, Jim and Marty, who rode from Pittsburgh to D.C. together. In fact, it was one of their stories about stumbling onto a small cemetery along the trail that turned part of our ride to Meyersdale into a treasure hunt. To meet the authors in person was serendipitous. As happens in the cycling world, Jim and Marty were so friendly and eager to share more of their own stories and to hear ours. After an hour of cyclist socialization, my cheeks hurt from laughing and only my rumbling stomach prodded me to leave. One of their best stories from riding the GAP was their search for a milkshake in Meyersdale, which we had to add to our treasure hunt. The Donges Drive-In Maple Milkshake (Marty-style) was worth the search. If we didn’t have to ride back uphill to our B&B I would have had two.

Home sweet Levi Deal

Our second evening was spent at the Levi Deal Mansion B&B. Built in 1900 during Meyersdale’s heyday for its namesake coal and timber baron, it was renovated in the 2010s as a B&B in anticipation of the GAP’s completion and influx of cycling tourists. I couldn’t believe this extravagant “Châteauesque” architectural home catered to my people! The innkeeper, Deb (yes another Deb), was a fantastic host and very cycling-savvy. When we arrived after downing our milkshakes, she made sure we hosed down our bikes and locked them in the garage. We dug into a bin of towels to clean off our dirty legs so not to bring any trail remnants into the house.

Following Deb inside, my jaw dropped looking at our beautiful new surroundings. I would have left the rest of my gear, and myself, in the garage. It was gorgeous! Parlors with inviting couches and books, 100-year old woodwork, little bike adornments, a communal kitchen with a fridge full of wine and beer, and a table of snacks. Upstairs Deb showed us our enormous room: bright and cozy, the deep carpeting begged for bare feet, antique furniture mixed modern with vintage, huge bay windows let in the southern light, and enormous queen-size beds called to us with collapse-worthy comforters. I was afraid to put any of my gear down. Every detail was so well thought out for our comfort, down to the white terrycloth bathrobes.

After cleaning up, we took advantage of the evening’s setting sun from the front porch and kicked our legs up, beers in hand. As twilight deepened, our eyes caught small, random flashes of light across the front yard. Fireflies! We jumped out of our seats and held onto the railing as we strained to peer into the yard more closely, calling out for them to appear. There was only one flash, then a minute later, another a few feet away. Perhaps it was only one firefly looking for its mates. At one point it flashed in the middle of the street, which filled me with so much worry that I yelled out to it not to get hit by a car.

Fireflies seem so rare these days, and Barb and I reflected how growing up as kids in Pennsylvania we used to catch them in mayonnaise or pickle jars all summer long. Back then, our front yards turned into magical light shows at night, with us giving chase to hundreds of flashing lights. It was like playing a game of hide and seek with mystical flying creatures. All the neighborhood kids ran around with their jars lighting up like beacons, comparing who caught more and winning the evening’s bragging rights. I think that every adult today misses those childhood memories and wrestles with the guilt that their summer night bounty directly resulted in the loss of generations of fireflies. Especially if they forgot to poke holes in the lid of their mayonnaise jar.

The Day 2 Route

Most of this was also a long slog up to the Continental Divide, but because we returned to Meyersdale we got a little bit of downhill pedaling. Who am I kidding, it was still a slog - just faster!

Strava details: 51 miles, 1273 feet elevation, 12.7 mph average speed, 4:00 moving time

Click on the map to open it in a new interactive window.

Day 3: Meyersdale to Flight 93

Cyclists take note: the “breakfast” part of the Levi Deal B&B is worth the stay alone. Coffee was on at 7 a.m. and breakfast at 8 a.m., so we were free to lounge on the front porch watching the sun rise, or cozy up with one of the many cycling magazines or historical books in one of the parlors. Deb has Celiac’s disease so she is very keen to accommodate dietary needs. Her homemade French toast on gluten free bread (for me, brioche for everyone else) covered in local Meyersdale maple syrup was so delicious and filling, I couldn’t wait to hit the trail on a very full, very happy belly.

Our final objective of the weekend was riding to the Flight 93 National Memorial. I’m a bit of an evangelist telling people about the September 11th National Memorial Trail. When completed, it will be a 1,300-mile network of trails and roadways across six Mid-Atlantic states that will eventually connect all three 9/11 sites: Lower Manhattan, the Pentagon, and Flight 93. The non-profit organization, 911trail.org, is coordinating the effort. There is a bill in Congress that recently passed the House and is now sitting in the Senate that would give the trail official federal designation. This would provide much-needed funding and outreach. For now, the organization has posted roadway signs to follow from the GAP in Garrett, 20 miles up through Berlin and Shanksville to Flight 93.

The organization is also in the process of working with local entities to convert an abandoned railway into a rail-to-trail that would take cyclists off the main road, connecting Garrett nearly all the way to Berlin. This has a while to be completed and the trail is currently a dead-end. Check it out if you want, but you will need to turn back after a short distance, returning to Garrett and taking the official, signed route on the Mason Dixon Highway to Berlin.

After two days staying seated on our bikes along the steady 1-2% grades of the GAP, getting onto the rolling country roads and out of the saddle made my legs feel so liberated. The hills to Flight 93 are not challenging to the average bike tourist, and they have plenty of downhill coasting that we missed on the GAP, too. We rode through small towns and past plenty of corn and soybean fields. The whole time we encountered more cows than cars.

The 9/11 National Memorial Trail route leads you to a back access road and the lower section of the memorial. Make note that there currently are no bike racks at this lower area and the staff aren’t keen of cyclists walking with their bikes (ask me how I know). Regardless, put on your walking shoes or sandals and remove your helmet. Take a small bike lock and tether your bikes together or to something out of the way. This part of the memorial includes a close-up view of the final resting place of Flight 93 and its 40 passengers and crew, signified by a large boulder in the middle of a field of wildflowers. The crash site is closed off to visitors and only open to families of the victims. The walkway ends at the Wall of Names, a large white marble wall inscribed with names of each person who risked their life and died on Flight 93.

Bikes are also not allowed on the walking trails linking the upper and lower parts of the memorial. It’s an easy one-mile climb on the main road to the upper entrance of the memorial and the museum. You will find a large bike rack close to the museum. Take your time seeing this well-designed memorial and attend one of the free guided tours. The museum is small, but powerful. Using interactive exhibits and artifacts, it explains the timeline of events and how the local Shanksville community came together to aid in the response, search, and recovery. The memorial’s location among the rural fields is a contrast to the 9/11 Memorial and Museum in lower Manhattan, but I find this contrast actually bridges our diverse communities together under our common humanity.

The Day 3 Route

Getting off the GAP was such a relief. My legs really wanted to stand and climb a bit, and these easy rolling hills delivered. Great pavement and quiet country roads.

Strava details: 29 miles, 1860 feet elevation, 10.8 mph average speed, 2:40 moving time

Click on the map to open it in a new interactive window.

We had Uber-Dad pick us up at Flight 93 to conclude our three-day tour. It’s a pretty quick 90-minute drive back to Pittsburgh. You can also return to the GAP, or if you want to explore the roads and trails of the 9/11 route further, you can ride north towards Johnstown and Altoona, then eastwards to Harrisburg and New York City.

TravelJill Greco Bodnarflight 93 national memorialRails to Trails, GAP, Women's Cycling