Covid Cross Day #7 North Washington, PA to Noblestown, PA
Covid Cross Day #7
June 7, 2020
North Washington, PA to Noblestown, PA 72 Miles
Start 8:05 AM Finish 8:44 PM
Ride Time 7:34
Ascent 3694 Feet
Descent 4020 Feet
Tour Total 568 Miles
I slept so-so at the Pleasant Valley Campground in North Washington. There was considerable noise all night long. Music blared from three sites down predictably playing the exact music I listened to forty years ago in high school - Lynyrd Skynyrd, Pink Floyd, etc. I sat out at my picnic table trying to edit yesterday’s post. It got cold so I went into my tent where I soon fell asleep, despite the noise. Golf carts were driving around and dogs were barking plus the fire cracker pop-pop-pop sounds of cars driving on loose gravel. My biggest mistake last night was not ordering a six pack for takeout from the Beer Garden.
I woke up at 6:30 AM. Crows were already cawing. There had been no cell service and my phone was dead from searching all night. There was heavy condensation in and on my tent. I dried the tent a bit and then packed it under the rear bag. I could tell it was going to be a scorcher and wanted to get an early start. I had felt embedded with the deplorables at the campground. No one had been wearing a mask and I had tried to distance and be safe. The auction and the bathhouse were my only COVID worries.
I pedaled down Oneida Valley Road surrounded by rolling grass with dew drops sparkling on the blade tips. After yesterday's brutal heat I was enjoying the morning shadows and cool air. At mile marker 501 I spotted the tour's first Biden bumper sticker. There were a lot of veterans out here in rural America, and I saw banners and slogans about freedom. I believed that what I was doing expressed the meaning of the word. I passed a sign that read "Freedom is not free". My thought was that freedom could be inexpensive, if one had little need for comfort. I found that the less I had, the freer I was. Bicycle touring was exponentially more freeing than traveling in a camper.
I couldn't believe that exactly a week ago I had dropped off Blanka with Mehiko and Fernando. I had been on the road for seven days, and was more than one eighth the way to Portland. I stopped at a Sunoco station where masks were required. I purchased two Starbucks Frappuccinos, an orange juice, and a lousy egg sandwich. I missed the turn that I should have taken for Highway 68 and stayed on 38. By the time I realized my mistake it made more sense to just stay on Highway 38. In Butler I managed to get back on the route. I found Saxonbury Road that took me the seven miles to Saxonburg. It was rolling ups and downs. Berkshire Hathaway had half the county for sale. I saw their signs everywhere.
Outside of Saxonburg I stopped at a Dollar General for a Gatorade. Everyone was wearing masks. The puffy clouds in the sky today were making it easier to crank out the miles. Saxonburg was the home of John A Roebling, the designer of the Brooklyn Bridge. I saw a TURD sign that read "Fuck your feelings. We're gonna elect the Motherfucker anyway". I didn't want to post a photo or give it power, but the electoral college is real. My liberal friends and I live in a bubble.
I finally got onto Narrow Country Road and then Brewer Road which wound through horse and cow pastures. Split rail fences lined the road. I passed another stars and bars at mile marker 532. A mile down the road I discovered a beautiful Black Lives Matter chalked on the asphalt an an intersections. It uplifted my spirits after so many TURD signs and confederate flags.
I passed a day cyclist headed up the hill outside of Dorseyville. I stopped at Dive Burger which was an excellent choice. I sat outside in the shade and ordered a cheeseburger and a few pints of Stoudt black lager. I was riding along the river through a working class neighborhood of Pittsburgh. I climbed extremely steep Washington Street and was passed by an oncoming cyclist who greeted me.
I encountered the Three Rivers bicycle trail along the Allegheny River where many cyclists and runners where out enjoying the day. The last time I had dealt with this much cyclist traffic had been in Hudson River Park in Manhattan. I saw Ned Smythe’s fantastic public art piece which was much better than the one he had in New York. I crossed the Allegheny River on the Andy Warhol bridge aka the Seventh Street bridge. I pedaled around Three Rivers Point and Fort Pitt and took the Liberty Bridge over the Monongahela and rode by the steep Duquesne Incline. A freight train chugged by as pleasure boats plied the river.
It was a challenge getting out of Pittsburgh through the west end. I couldn’t find the right road fork in the middle of an expressway ramp hell. With much trial and error I finally found the correct road and then exited on smaller highway 60. There were Road Closed Ahead signs but I was able to continue. The village of Carnegie was a little rundown for what I had been expecting. There were numerous pictures of veterans posted on telephone poles. Before entering Rennerdale I was informed that the COVID-19 Safety First Plan was in force. I missed the turn for the panhandle Trail and rode up a huge hill before realizing my mistake. I turned around and figured it out. There were numerous motorists with bike racks in the trail parking lot. It was so relaxing to be back on a rail trail. It was flat and shady riding through the woods.
I was coming down the trail and like a mirage I saw Helicon Brewery ahead. Was this real? Was it open? The place was packed and I approached it with skill and luck. First I parked my bike and draped it with my wet tent, fly, and ground cloth to dry in the baking sun. Second, I secured a spot at the bar with my laptop to edit photos and blog posts. I screwed up on number three. The food truck was closed by the time I got to the window. I ordered chips from the bar along with pints of Helles lager. As they were closing up I met the owner who gave me another pint, which I was unable to finish. I posed the Biden or TURD question to my bartender and she replied TURD. I rolled up my dry tent and ground cloth and pedaled a few more miles down the path. I spotted a footpath and ducked into the woods to stealth camp.
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