Day 5

Is it day 5 already? I awake in my luxurious cloud of pillows around 8am and go to the lounge where I completely clean out the supply of oatmeal (there were only two packets).  The other two couples staying there come in after having gone out for breakfast (how do they wake up so early!?) and of course, like everyone on the trail but me, they are headed towards DC.  They marvel at the spectacle of a lady person traveling alone and one asks why I'm doing it.  Uh, I don't know anyone crazy enough to come with me?  But that's not really true.  I just shrug and tell her the truth.  "I just kind of wanted to."

After gathering my things, sliding the keys under the office door, remembering I still need to keys to get my bike from the locked garage, sticking my hand under the door and fishing around until I retrieve the keys, I'm off!  I make a pit stop at the bike shop in town to buy some gloves with gel padding.  My ring fingers are still a bit numb from the previous four days of riding, but soon into today's ride I can tell that the $37 for my new Bontrager gel padded gloves was a worthwhile investment.  I prepare mentally for the tortuous hill I have been warned about by so many.  A man on a bike with no luggage is just ahead of me, traveling at about my pace, and we go back and forth passing each other and he tells me he lives in Cumberland and is just out riding for the day and taking pictures. Another man walking the opposite direction stops me and tries to tell me where I should stop in a few miles to see a seam of coal in the rocks, but I don't really understand his directions and I miss out on this.  I pass my other friend on the bike who has stopped to rest and he warns me not to wander off on any side trails because there's lots of rattlesnakes.
Not just a few rattlesnakes, he emphasizes, rattlesnakes everywhere.  He also advises me not to play with them but then proceeds to tell me about how he once tried to get his nephew to poke one with a stick so he could get a cool photo.  The nephew apparently refused.  Smart kid.  I continue on, promising not to venture into rattlesnake territory (little does he know, only 1 rattlesnake is needed to deter me).  I continue to dread the appearance of a steep hill, but after a while I know it's been too long.  Is this it?  Am I on the hill?  My fears were completely unwarranted, or maybe it just doesn't seem bad because I was worried it would be so much worse.  In any event, I am glad to discover that I will not die on the mountain.

The weather, for the first time on the trip, is perfect and the scenery is breathtaking. So far, GAP beats C&O hands down.  The mile markers keep coming faster than I expect them (perhaps these are PA miles? Is that a thing?  Oh wait, I'm still in MD...) and I arrive in Frostburg, MD well before noon.  The town is up a legitimately steep hill, but they are kind enough to have put in a staircase winding up to the main street with a bike rack at the bottom.  I set my bike in the rack and just lock it to itself, figuring it would take an extra special awful person to steal an unridable bike loaded with luggage.

Bike art in Frostburg

I climb up to Main St. and discover that in Frostburg, Maryland, everything is closed on Mondays.  What is this, France?  At the end of the street I come upon Princess restaurant, which, from the menu, does not look like it has ever allowed a vegetarian to enter, until I get to the breakfast section of the menu.  Omelettes galore!  I walk in and ask if it's too late to order breakfast.  The hostess looks at me like this is a weird question and assures me that they can make eggs at any time of day.  I slide into a booth and order the special: veggie omelette with home fries and toast...for $4.75!  The first reasonably priced meal of the trip.  The waitress asks if I want cheese in the omelette.  What kind of question is this?  It's an omelette, of course I want cheese.  The waitress takes orders at the next table, which is full of 6 men, all wearing some sort of badge ID like you would see people wear in DC.  It seems like this town is small enough that she would know them all by name, but she refers to them instead by shirt color.  "I'll start with you, blue shirt guy", and when a 7th one shows up she looks completely exasperated.  "Orange shirt guy, you're with them too? We're going to have to move you to a bigger table".  My omelette arrives (sans cheese - wtf?) but is still amazingly good.  I gobble it up and wait around a good 5 minutes for the check before noticing that it has been on the table the whole time.
I head back down from Frostburg, happy to see that no one has stolen my sole means of transportation.  As soon as get back to pedaling up the barely perceptible hill, however, I feel that something is wrong with my bike.  I try to see if the front brake is sticking to the rim again and stop more than once to verify that I don't have a flat, but everything appears to be in order.  It just seems way harder to pedal all of a sudden.  Could it be the hill?  Can't be, it doesn't even look like a hill.  I decide the chain must be sticking (is that a thing chains do?) and I pull over to apply the sample pack of lube I got from some bike race and ever so cleverly thought to bring along.  This yields no results (apart from slimy fingers).  I give up and resign myself to the fact that poor me has to work extra hard because of my somehow deficient bike.  I make it across the Mason-Dixon line and then arrive at the continental divide.


 Yay!  All downhill from here!  As soon as I start rolling along I realize what an idiot I have been.  There was nothing wrong with my bike, it was just gravity.  Good, albeit perhaps obvious news.  I sail along much faster than on previous legs and decide it will be no problem to make it to Confluence tonight.  I make a brief stop in Meyersdale, PA, a cute little town with a train obsession.
I pass Husky Haven at mile 44 (the counter reset at zero in Cumberland), and it is completely empty and I'm glad I've decided to continue on.  By a little after 6 I make it to Confluence, PA and stop for dinner at Lucky Dog cafe, which is fantastic.  Then it's a short roll across the bridge to the campsite where there is a special area set aside for hikers and bikers of the trail.  This is more like what I was imagining before the trip.  There are 3 other people in the hiker/biker section, two older guys and one younger one and we all exchange trip stories.  The young guy from DC is biking home all the way from Detroit and says it only took 6 days to get here.  Still no campfires or much group bonding, but it's still nice to actually meet some other people at the campsite.  Everyone is in their tent by sundown and I retire to read before bed.  I have a feeling this crowd is going to wake up (and wake me up with their noises) far earlier than I am ready for.