A new chapter: DC to Philly

With the country crossed, our group began to prepare for Reid's departure.  We hosed off our bikes and bags, reapplied lube to our chains and Reid began to tear apart his panniers throwing away accumulated trash, returning mine and Lauren's belongings and generally getting them "plane ready."  The morning after our arrival we called around for a bike box and collected it in our first car ride in about a month. As we had done with Dave and Hannah before, we deconstructed Reid's bicycle to be boxed for flight, continuing the attrition of our cross country crew.

That evening we went out for tapas at a downtown DC restaurant called Oyamel.  Here we met up with two of Reid's work friends and Lauren's good friend Michelle.  The table was quickly filled with made to order guacamole and chips, margaritas, and individually served tacos, including ones filled with fried grasshoppers.  Everyone departed, Reid's friends returning to George's mother's house to whisk Reid and his belongings to the airport.  Good byes were short, and then suddenly Reid had disappeared in a large silver SUV.

For Reid and I, it had been a 6 and 1/2 week journey, starting in the deserts of Nevada, where we once went 170 miles without seeing a town, to the DC metro area.  The contrast of this country is drastic: from the climate to the people to the terrain.  It is an adventure that we will always share and never forget.  Reid--good luck in you Masters in Public Health at Davis, it has been great riding with you, we miss you all the time.

Through all of the heartache of loosing a third rider, Lauren and I would gain another, our good friend George.  This would be his first bike ride over thirty miles, for which he was very excited.  The days following were spent acquiring the necessary gear and food, and preparing George's bike for the Journey to Philadelphia.

In between preparations, Lauren and George took me climbing for the first time down by the Potomac, Great Falls. We made many beautiful meals with George's extremely hospitable and loving mom, Susan.

And we enjoyed the free Smithsonian museums.

The morning that we left, we navigated our way down to the Potomac River to connect with the Capital Crescent bike trail, yet another rail trail.  Riding alongside rush hour traffic, we got routed onto a bridge that put us on a one way street packed with cars and no exits or shoulders.  Our mood became frantic as we passed under the trestle that safely carried cyclists over the expressway to the path along the water.  We took the nearest available side road exit straight up the valley embankment to find the path that we were longing for.

The path wound us slowly north on pavement and gravel some 30 miles north of the city.  From our experience, bike paths are the best entrances and exits to cities, helping you avoid the chaotic surface streets packed with urgent honking commuters trapped in their steel boxes.

After our lunch, we navigated the many, now country, roads to the only official camping that we could find just to the east of Baltimore.  After traveling about 60 miles we were bothered to find that the road to the campground from its entrance was through a deep gully, which meant we had to ride down and up both in and out of camp.  The campground had nice flat tent spots, clean bathrooms and showers, both of which were welcomed.  Our only concern was the noticeably fearless and trained squirrels forcing us to hang our food out of paws reach.

No separated trails were scheduled for our next day of riding, so again we were relegated to the beautiful, but undulating country roads all the way to Philadelphia.  Then suddenly and unexpectedly we encountered yet another rail trail, this one heading due north 40 miles to York, PA.  We made it to  the border town of New Freedom, PA by dusk, and called the local authorities for a place to camp.  They told us that there wasn't a place to camp, but there was a campground just down the way.  Laughing at the incongruity of the statement, we decide to get a beer at the local bar before heading for bed.

When we arrived at the aforementioned campground we soon discovered that it wasn't a campground at all, but a Christian camp and retreat center.  A young man on a bike approached us, as we entered and tried to help us out by calling the higher ups, whom didn't answer.  He pointed at where people normally set up tents and camp. Unable to provide us with a certain answer, Lauren eventually convinced him that it was okay.  Tents popped up and we showered in their surprisingly dirty facilities before the man from earlier came by to inform us that we had been officially welcomed and that no compensation was necessary.

We continued to follow the trail out of New Freedom, to York. Once in York, we stopped for some chai and made PB&J outside of a great open market in an old warehouse. We avoided a rainstorm in a gas station, and then made our way towards Lancaster.

That evening, while trying to reach the private campground outside of Lancaster, we stopped to buy a single beer.  Pennsylvania has some interesting alcohol laws, which include no booze in supermarkets or convenience stores, no beer in wine and liquor stores, and only 24 or more packs available at beer stores.  This was obviously too much for us to carry.

As we pulled back onto the street, a man leaned out of his open car window and shouted "AMERICA!" presumably seeing Lauren's waving American flag.  He stopped us and asked where we had come from and where we were going and then offered that we camp on his open lot for free.  We were obliged and followed him a half mile or so down the road to his creekside lot.  He said that we could burn all the firewood we wanted, told us to bath in the creek and then promised that he would return that evening with some beer to share.

So, for the first time the entire trip, we built a fire.  Well...George built a fire with a lot of lighter fluid and a great flash.  We ate and basked in the fire to our sedation, when our campground host returned on an ATV of sorts with his son, two dogs, and a cooler full of beer.  Chatter and drinking continued for awhile before they re-mounted their engined steed and pulled off into the night.  The fire began to flicker and we all headed for bed.

The next morning, we fueled up on good ole fashioned oatmeal, and then made our way through  the Amish town of Intercourse towards Phoenixville, PA, and the trail head of the rail trail that would take us to Philadelphia the following day.

We went through what we would call, "Amish Land." And it was awesome. The buggy lane is the biggest and best bike lane, EVER. We stopped and fueled up at a lemonade stand, run by some young Amish entrepreneurs with bowl cuts, and they cut us deep at $3 a glass.

We wound our way up and down hills and through incredible countryside full of old colonial homes and red barns. Our day was coming to a close when we pulled into the quaint and tiny town of Kimberton.  I ran into the little post office to see if it was still open on Saturday so that we could stamp and mail some of the postcards we had written. It wasn't open, but a postman taking away the afternoon post saw us, gave us free stamps, and whisked our little notes away. Right then, we should have known that the evening was full of magic and good fortune.

We thought we'd go out to eat somewhere in Phoenixville,  and then find some place to sleep for the night near the trail head to Philadelphia at the Valley Forge National Park. We rolled down the hill \ from the post office, and before we got two blocks, there out of the woods popped a beautiful natural foods market. Oh man. So we stopped to see if they had our favorite instant bean mix, they didn't, but they had many other delectable snacks. Lauren and I finished shopping and walked outside to find George talking to a young couple.

The pair was extremely interested in our bicycles, and expressed a huge interest in bicycle touring. After we all introduced ourselves, and became acquainted with Jason and Caitlin, we asked if they know of anywhere in the area that would be good for camping. There response was, "Well...our house!"

So we took them up on the lovely offer, and they gave us there address and we navigated our way back to their house in downtown Pheonixville. We arrived at their house, and Caitlin insisted that we sleep inside in the guest bedroom, she offered us towels, a shower, and a tour of their fantastic little place. They bought it a few years earlier, had redone the wood floors, and created such a welcoming, cute home.

Caitlin works for the local Waldorf school and Jason works for the local farm across the street. Their kitchen was piled high in plump multicolored tomatoes, the walls hung with garlic, it was lovely.

We cleaned up, and walked with our new friends, downtown to their favorite restaurant, The Iron Hill Brewery. So we shared gourmet pizza and salads, and sipped beautiful beer. On the way home, Caitlin guided us to local ice cream, and then we all huddled into the attic T.V. room with the biggest couch ever, and watched the Olympics.

After a good nights rest, and only 30 miles to ride to Philly, we took the morning slow. We made pancakes from scratch, and Jason created mouthwatering salsa from his farm veges for fried eggs. We sipped coffee and talked, and it was perfect.

We suited up and set out for Philadelphia, thanking Jason and Caitlin profusely for their kindness.

The  Schuylkill river path guided us for thirty miles from suburbia to downtown Philadelphia. We ate lunch next to the great steps of the Art Museum, adjacent to the Rocky statue. Chewing peanut butter and jelly, we watched tourists wait in line to flex their muscles  with Rocky for a camera. George soaked in the fact that he had just finished his first bike tour.