RAIN, RAIN, MORE RAIN. DID I MENTION RAIN? PARTING OF WAYS AND A WET COLD NIGHT
We woke up to more rain. We ate a small breakfast of dried fruit and granola bars, paid for our room and headed downhill into town. When we left the motel the rain had let up and the sun was starting to shine again. As we reached town I took notice to the remains of the old viaduct. The Western Maryland and Pittsburgh and Lake Erie shared trackage over a massive concrete viaduct through the center of Connellsville. Most of what was left was the concrete arches that supported the bridge. I was thinking about what a shame that it was dismantled. It would eliminate riding through the town at street level and meeting traffic if the viaduct was still in place to bridge the town. I caught back up with Craig at the RiverfrontPark. We then continued to follow the trail along marked lanes along the streets through town. Eventually we started riding on a trail again. This was of course not the former right of way of the WM yet. It was immediately to our right hidden under a utility complex with a fenced in yard. Once passed the fenced in yard, we were on the Western Maryland. This was the part of the trail I anticipated above all parts of the trail.
Today our travel would be short and sweet. We would travel the bike path through Ohiopyle State Park along the Youghiogheny River Gorge climbing high above the river on steep bluffs. We figured it would be less than four hours to the town of Ohiopyle where we would locate a youth hostel near the trail, get some pizza and ice cream at Fox’s Pizza and maybe ride the natural waterslides. Today was originally planned as a day of rest, but our unscheduled stop in Connellsville forced us to ride this morning.
Our first stop was at Bowest Junction. Back when this was a railroad, this was the end of the line. Trains heading west from Cumberland would either continue west into Connellsville or make a left turn towards Bowest Yard. Beyond Bowest Yard was an interchange with the B&O with its tracks to Fairmont, West Virginia. The name Bowest is derived from this connection; Bo for the B&O and West for the Western Maryland. We came rolling across the Greenwood and Bowest Bridges (below Bowest Bridge CSX’s line to Fairmont still exists) and paused at my request for pictures. I first took a picture of my overloaded bike leaning against the rail, I then gave my camera to Craig and he took a blurry picture of me standing by my bike. We continued on for what would become a grueling climb.
Although the grade heading east towards the summit at Deal never exceeds one percent, it can feel grueling with a loaded pack and a heavily loaded bicycle with only three gears. There are reasons why I never tried mountain biking, one of those reasons is hills. I am very prone to hopping off my bike and pushing if a hill gets too tough. However I managed to stay on my bike the entire seventeen mile ride to Ohiopyle. The trail didn’t feel like it was going up hill, unless you looked at the river. Every time I looked at that river, it was even deeper in the gorge. I got by mainly from stopping every five minutes to take off my pack and drink some water. Sometimes I would catch up to Craig as he was taking a break; most times he was way ahead of me. By the time we reached the HighBridge over the Yough, we had caught up to each other and it began to downpour. 
We crossed Ferncliff and the LowBridge (the bridge I checked out in my youth with the boy scouts) and pulled under the roof of the station platform in Ohiopyle. We were drenched and the rain didn’t look like stopping. I figured we should find out where the hostel was so we could get inside where it was dry. I left Craig with the bikes and went inside the station to ask the Park Ranger where the hostel was. 
“Wow, you look soaked,” the ranger said as I entered the small train station.
“It’s pouring,” I replied. I glanced around. On the walls were photographs depicting Ohiopyle in its resort days; back when this room was a passenger waiting room. On the wall closest to the door was a Western Maryland time-table showing station stops between Connellsville and Cumberland with a connection via the Pittsburgh & Lake Erie to Pittsburgh. 
Along the base of the walls were brochures for attractions all over the LaurelHighlands. After looking around a bit and allowing some of the water I was soaked in to dry, I approached the ranger.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied, “could you direct me to the local hostel?”
“I am sorry, they are closed.”
“Closed?”
“Yup, they closed last summer and haven’t opened this year.”
“Is there any place else affordable to stay?” I asked. She rambled off a list of motels and bed & breakfasts. But alas they were way out of my price range or they were miles from here via the main road. The park does have a campground. And I did consider it. It sits at the top of a very steep hill known as Kentuck Knob. Alas, I was at the bottom of set steep hill. And with the rain not showing any signs of stopping I didn’t feel up to it. The next closest campground was eleven miles away in Confluence. Both Craig and I concurred that in the pouring rain it would be a miserable trip.
Eventually we gathered up our bikes and got some food at the Falls City Café which was just bellow the station. After checking my balance at a MAC machine I realized I was short on money and ended up spending the money saved for tonight’s lodging on food.
After eating we walked back to the station and laid out our equipment to dry on the bench. Craig decided to take a nap and I decide to check some of the outfitters out to see if lodging was available on the cheap anywhere in town. When I returned with no good news, Craig decided to head around to find us a place to stay.
As I sat on the bench awaiting Craig’s return, the torrential downpour stopped. Then the sun came out.
“I don’t believe it,” I caught myself saying out loud. Plus most of my gear was dry. It was getting later in the afternoon. Craig had still not returned. I sat there looking at his beat up black Huffy. I had decided that we were not going to find anyplace to stay and that since the rain had stopped I would just camp in the woods. As I was packing my stuff up, Craig returned. He was well on his way to being drunk.
“I found a bar,” he said, “and some dudes that can give us a place to stay”
“Really?”
“C’mon, I’ll show you.”
Sure enough, not even a block from the station was a small tavern. I sat at the bar with Craig and one of the river guides. Craig bought me a beer and introduced the guide.
“That’s awesome that you’re biking the whole trail dude,” the guide said after I told my plans. Then Craig told me his. I don’t think my bike is going to make it. So I will not continue on with you. I have decided to hitch hike to California. This guy,” he nodded at the river guide, “said we could crash at his place in Farmington for the night. Then I will sell my bike for parts and hit the road.” 
I thought about it and declined the free lodging. First off both he and Craig were drunk and second Farmington was a ways from the trail.
“I am just going to camp in the woods tonight,” I said, “sorry to hear that you won’t be joining me to the end Craig.”
“So am I, but this bike wont cut it.”
I chatted with them for a bit until my beer was done. Then I snapped some pictures of Craig, wished him good luck, he wished the same for me, and we parted ways.
“Look out for bears,” the guide shouted as I walked my bike back to the trail.
I finished calling my mother and fiancé, keeping them informed of my safety. The sun was setting and I decided to find a campsite. Thinking hard about this, I came to only one conclusion of a place to sleep the night, Ferncliff. Ferncliff is the peninsula formed from the bend in the river. It is also a nature sanctuary. Bikes and camping are prohibited there. But, it was the only place I could spend the night, I wasn’t about to try and sleep on the benches at the station. So I rode out across the bridge and into the sunset. I am an Eagle Scout and well aware of “Leave No Trace” camping, and that is what I did tonight. I found a deer path and walked into the woods, carrying my bike. I found a spot out of site of the bike trail and set my bike against a tree. I pulled out my tarp and sleeping bag, took of my boots and climbed in. I fell right to sleep.
“SNORT, rustle rustle, SNORT!”
Oh God, I am surrounded! I was awakened by the snorting sound and then heard continued snorting and rustling all around me. It was pitch black, I couldn’t see a thing. I kept still and silent. The only thought in my head was the river guides farewell.
“Look out for bears.”
Bears, oh God, not bears. I felt panicked. This can’t be happening; I am surrounded by snorting bears. Then common sense began to slowly creep back, and I do mean slowly.
Do bears snort?
These ones do.
Are you sure?
The river guide said to look out for bears, so of course I am sure.
I don’t know, I never heard of snorting bears.
Well, what is out there snorting then? That’s when my common sense came back to me in the form of a memory.
I was sitting in the woods on a hillside with a German rifle on my lap. It was cold and snowing. I was out hunting with my Uncle Bill; buck hunting. As I sat there I heard a rustle and a loud snort. I turned my head, gripping my gun (I have never heard snorts in the woods before). And there was a whole herd of does. The doe in the lead let out another snort, her tail went up and the whole group went running down into the valley bellow me.
“Deer,” I said aloud. It’s only a group of deer unhappy with the spot I chose as a campsite. I laid back down. The snorting had stopped and the rustling was headed away from me. I had laid awake for some time longer and the only sounds I heard were the river rapids and a freight train roaring by and blasting its horn. Eventually I fell back to sleep.
STATISTICS:
MILES TODAY: 21.58
AVG SPEED: 6.4mph
TRIP MILES: 83.81