After we left the Pinkerton tunnel the rain started in earnest and a combination of intensity and lack of leaf cover required us to get on our rain jackets. Even though the temperature was in the 60s, neither of us were chilled and we continued our journey. It’s a different experience bicycling in the rain. The coolness doesn’t overheat us and there is no dust thrown up. Fog rises off the river and the birds are fairly silent. With the rain and the fact that it is not a weekend, we expect to see few people on the trail.
Rather than I feared, bicycling in this weather is not so bad and in some aspects invigorating. I start to hum and then sing “Singing in the Rain,” though my choreography of it is a minimalist pushing pedals in a circular motion. No matter, as I am truly enjoying my time on the bike.
Soon it is time to take a break so we find shelter in a niche formed within a rock foundation that is covered by hemlock trees (not poisonous.) It offers a dry and interesting spot with moss, ferns and small trees are growing out of cracks formed by the constant freeze and unfreeze conditions.
We leave and the wet conditions are beginning to have an effect on our bikes and clothing. Ted’s bike has lots of mud /gravel throw-up coating it as well as a thin line of dark drops on the back of his shirt and shorts. Even though we are dry, at the end of the day we will be filthy.
We soon arrive at Rockwood (elevation 1,826 feet) where we are greeted by a woman attending a tiny visitor center. She helped us identify the ruffled grouse that we found. I asked her about bear sightings on the trail and she said, “yes we do have some bear that have been seen on the trail but I’m sure you have seen plenty of snakes.” We haven’t and I was not going to push the issues.
After Rockwell we run into rows upon rows of wildflowers including wild geranium, wild rose, daisies, and others that I cannot identify. For some reason, the wildflowers have taken over the sides of the trail preferring it to any other location. As we continue to climb, it feels as if we have divorced ourselves from society, but of course that is not true and we are reminded of that fact nearly every hour as a train makes its way up a parallel set of tracks. This is driven home by the fact we pass a section of working railroad track that has an array of solar panels set up nearby with a satellite dish.
The higher we get, the more hemlock trees come into view. They have formed a significant understory for the forest and don’t seem nearly as effected as the hemlocks do in Connecticut that have been desiccated by the woolly adelgid insect. On this section of the trail we also see lots of mountain laurel flowering, which we haven’t seen before. Mixed in with rhododendron, they make a solid and lovely wall of green.
Approaching Meyersdale, the topography seems to have leveled out and there are farms and rolling hills around us. Bales of hay, corn silage, cows chewing their cud, a family graveyard are a new sight for us as our views have been narrowed by the rail line and the cuts in the mountains that were made to accommodate it. I tell Ted to take a picture of some lovely rolling hills but he replies that they are slag heaps left over from old mines. After wiping my glasses, I can see that he is correct.
We soon reach the Salisbury Viaduct, which is 1,908 feet long and 100 feet high. Unfortunately the view that has been heralded as spectacular, is far from that as a combination of fog and rain mutes the expanse around it. In the distance a line of wind generators are turning slowly generating electricity. Ted mentions that it is ironic that these clean energy devices are within sight of the dirty energy remains of coal. But you can’t get away from coal in Pennsylvania as it permeates the state.
We finally reach the Meyersdale visitor station around lunch time and it sports a great exhibit of miniature trains and a caboose. It also has a tiny albeit great gift shop that Ted and I were able to score a couple of GAP shirts and other trinkets that we have been seeking on the trip. As our panniers are stuffed, we later find a post office to mail them home.
After lunch in Meyersdale, the rain has abandoned us and the sun has emerged. So we shed our water-repelling skins and put on sunglasses. Because we are approaching the Eastern Continental Divide, there is little left to climb as we are now just navigating ridges, heading for the top. We are still on the side of the Eastern Continental Divide where all the rain water drains into the Gulf of Mexico; on the other side it drains into the Chesapeake basin.
Wind generators seem ubiquitous in this area as two emerge into view as we go over the Keystone Viaduct. Their seemingly slow spin makes no noise and is fitting for the area as they represents the technology of the future in the same way that the old bridges and tunnels we have been going through were in their time.
Wind generators are in view from many different vantages and now that vantage has become farmland and swamps or small creeks intersecting the trail. It feels like we are on a plateau and must be close to the Continental Divide.
