Day 6 little Orleans, MD

I trained for the Olympics today. The sun broke out for the first time on our trip and the temprature sored to 85 degrees. Dropping south into Maryland foiled our plans of trying to avoid the Appalachian mountains and now we are in the thick of them. I rode only 50 miles today, but it took every shred of strength I had to get through them.

My day started with one snafu after another. I lost yesterday's blog post and had to retype it again in the morning. Then I followed the wrong route by accidently leaving the "by car" choice selected on google maps. I payed for that mistake in spades.

Instead of taking a beautiful flat rail trial I went along local route 40 for 10 miles which has some pretty tough climbs. The route eventually dumped me on highway 70, which i had no choice but to ride along in the breakdown lane for two miles until the next exit. Though I didn't want to be on the highway, the flat road and intense draft from the highspeed traffic let me comfortably keep up a 22 mph pace. Once I exited I realized how bad a mistake I made.

I needed to head to the town of Haddock only a mile away but on the other side of the highway. I had no choice but to ride 10 miles out of the way, back into PA and back again into MD to reach the first underpass. Along the way I had to summit two steep ridges and for the first time began cursing the road in front of me.

Once in town I took a short rest at a roadside dinner over a tall glass of lemonade. I didn't want to stop too long as Ryan started the day before me and with my detour was probably far ahead.

I connected onto route 144 and then started the hardest climb of the trip so far. The road stretched upward for a mile at a very steep grade. I dropped into my lowest gear and began slowly spinning up the hill at 4.5 miles an hour, sweat pouring off my body. It seemed to take forever to make it to the bend in the road ahead and once I did I was greeted with another mile stretch of the same steep grade. The road continued in this fashion for another 5 miles with each bend in the road a mirage of the final apex. It took me an hour and 15 minutes straight to get to the top, my body on the verge of overheating most of the way.

How hard was this climb? Here are some indicators: 1) Ryan told me he stopped midway to ask a couple in their driveway if he could refill his water bottles. He told them we were heading to Cumberland along this route. The husband and wife matter of factly replied "oh you'll never make that." 2). Cyclist on the Ride across America, which passes through here have told our host that these hills are far worse than the Rockies due to their unrelenting inclines. 3). To my caskill friends, it was like riding over hunter mountain starting at the entrance to katterskill falls.

I flew down the back side of the mountain approaching 40 mph at one point but mostly riding my brakes as I navigated sharp switchbacks. The road flattened out and lead by a gas station that I almost passed in my delerious state. I realized I was down to half a bottle of water and pedalled in to find Ryan's bike parked outside. It's always a morale boost to catch up.

Ryan had been resting there for 45 minutes and was ready to go. I was envious of his downtime and knew I needed at least 20 minutes to regain some strength. Ryan took off. It was 5pm and we were both still under the delusion that we would reach Cumberland by nightfall.

After my break I got back on my bike and realized I had nothing left. Even the most mild incline or headwind had me dropping into my lowest gear. I could keep pedalling but get no faster than 4 or 5 mph. I managed to get another mile up the road and ran right into another monster climb.

At this point mild panic set in with the realization that I would make my destination. I immediately started looking for any viable camping spots but the steep hill offered none. Half way up the hill I broke down and started walking my bike, which was only 1 mph slower than riding it. My new plan was to reach the top and hope to find a flat and inconspicuos spot of to pitch my tent for the night.

At the top I saw a lookout on the side of the road with sweeping views of the valley. Ryans bike was resting against the elevation sign. On the otherside of the street was a bed and breakfast. What luck!


We stayed the night in Town Hill bed and breakfast which is large, beautiful old place. It reminds me of the hotel in the shining a bit, as we were the only occupants in the 25 room establishment. However, the owners are as nice as can be and in the morning we were treated to what I am sure will be the finest breakfst of our trip.



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Location:Little Orleans,United States