64: waffle house, the mindreader, many turns river, mile 100, virginia dogs, the turtle king, upon reflection, boo boo blvd., the experiment, the big sneeze, staring contest, the thumb tap, cheap overpowers guilt, deet, polite rain, 1.8 miles

June 15, 2025

Williamsport to Hancock

I looked out the window this morning to see a world of wet, and when I learned my hotel doesn’t have a free breakfast I strode through a light mist to a Waffle House adjacent to the hotel.

Waffle House is to waffles as Virgin Airlines is to celibacy. Even after eating there dozens of times, I'm always convinced that this time the waffles won't be tasteless, rubbery shower mats. This time they'll taste good, so I keep ordering them. Sometimes I think my eternal optimism is a character flaw.

After overhearing the guy wearing a Carhartt shirt in the booth next to me order some fat with a side of lard (not exactly in those words), in a marked change in my ordering routine I decided instead to get some scrambled eggs for the protein.

Sitting there, I was again fascinated by the wait staff yelling out indecipherable orders to the cook: "I need a hubcap and a rake on the skinny!" "Gimme a snollygoster with rye on the sidewalk, no stick!" "Teardrop! Glass pie on a rope! No pickles!"

My waiter did some sweeping while I was eating, but then left a giant hairball sitting there. I wasn't sure, but I think I saw it limp toward me a little when it thought I wasn't looking.

As I was leaving I noticed this and thought "Aha! Giant hoses... THAT'S how they get so much grease to your table." Apparently, the volume is such that they need a massive underground storage tank, the opening so large that it requires a manhole to cover it between tank truck deliveries.

You were probably thinking, "That's silly! They probably use that to store the used grease until it can be hauled away." If that's the case, then why are there two? I'm guessing that they need one for delivering fresh grease and one for removing used grease. Although, on second thought, it's more likely that they're both for delivery, because most of the grease leaves the restaurant savagely clinging to the arteries of the patrons.

The Thorn was still in the storage area when I went to collect it.

Last night I spent about twenty minutes trying to determine a route to the C&O Trail without having to go back over the bridge. I used google maps and RideWithGPS , and also looked at satellite photos, but couldn't find a way.

As I was nearing the bridge, a man stopped me and asked, "Are you looking for a way over?" It was as if he were reading my mind, and pointed out a very simple route which didn't require unloading the panniers - although it did necessitate a short ride the wrong way down a one-way street.

You can see the bridge I took yesterday.

Here you can actually see water in the aqueduct. This is the Conococheague Aqueduct taking water over the Conococheague River. It's pronounced Kah-no-KAH-cheek, and means "many turns river."

By the time I left the mist had stopped, but the air was thick with the smell of damp earth, and I could hear water dripping off the trees.

slowly but surely, I'm making my way toward Pittsburgh

At one point during the day, two dogs came loping around the bend, their owner nowhere in sight. For some people, seeing a couple of dogs charging toward them in the wild might provoke an instant release of the bowels; however, these dogs were clearly submersed in the millions of smells available to them out here - the musk, the moss, the animal scat. Consequently, as they approached they took no notice of me, and when their owner came around the corner I saw that he was wearing a Virginia hat. Virginia dogs? I think I can safely assume the only danger would be from too many slobbery licks.

the orange polka dot leggings look very stylish

Mosquitoes truly suck, in so many ways. They were just as bad today, and I reapplied my insect repellent twice after putting some on before leaving Williamsport. Even with three layers, it was just icing on a cake of hemoglobin for them. After killing two mosquitoes with one slap it made me question whether humans really are the apex predators, because I'm losing this battle.

As I scratched the swelling bite on my forehead, I also wondered what it was like for the people who lived in the lockhouses in the 1800s. How could they possibly tolerate this perpetually swarming mass of malarial vortices? And what did they use for insect repellent? Tobacco smoke, I suppose, and lots of it, because even lung cancer is becoming a more attractive option than getting bitten by these monsters.

There was plenty of mud today, but even with the rain last night, the trail wasn't as bad as I had anticipated. I'm wondering if Heather's descriptions of cyclists who were completely covered in mud might be skewing my expectations... in a good way. For me, the worse thing about the mud is that I have to watch the trail, and so I can't look at my surroundings.

Periodically, I see a tree like this. It has horizontal, linear lines on it, but they don't appear to be burls. Nor do they look like damage to the bark from wires or rope. Theories?

This guy is beautiful. He must be the Turtle King, because his shell appears to be inlaid with gold.

I peered down the stairs and figured I could probably get my loaded bike to the bottom. I'd need to go slowly, keeping a tight grip on the brakes as I eased 135 pounds of ungainly, awkward weight down the hard, slippery steps. It dawned on me that the 185 pounds of bike and gear is a mere 25 pounds less than my current weight of 160 pounds.

Upon reflection, I decided it would probably be best to just throw myself down the stairs now, thus preventing damage to the bike should I try to manhandle it down.

After a long moment I let out a heavy sigh, then started unloading the panniers.

Lockhouse 46 - From here, almost directly across the river in West Virginia is Boo Boo Boulevard... although that could be a mistake.

I'm seeing fewer and fewer cyclists and hikers, and the ones I do see just aren't interested in talking. Maybe it's because they've already passed enough bikers so that one more guy isn't worth a stop, or maybe it's because we're both moving, so today I did an experiment.

When I spied a cyclist coming my way, a speck on the horizon, I stopped and grabbed one of the oranges I stole from yesterday morning's hotel breakfast (which was surprisingly delicious, because although I wasn't supposed to take food from the breakfast area I felt quite justified because my wallet is more than $200 lighter from the cost of the hotel). As I was peeling my purloined fruit I waved and said hello. The lone cyclist approached slowly, casually even, responded with a friendly smile to my greeting, then continued riding past.

Because I'm mostly alone on a shady trail there was no need for my Hi-Viz vest, taillight, or sunscreen.

Over the past months I've wondered about what the paint colors and patterns on the trees mean. This one, however, I'm pretty sure about: some guy had a paint brush in his hand and sneezed.

As I was riding along the path I saw what appeared to be a snake, although it could just have easily been a stick. Because this could potentially be called the Turnaround Tour (I turn around for pictures at least five times an hour - you're welcome) I wheeled the bike around for a look, but there was neither stick nor snake.

I knew I'd seem something, so I looked in the grass and came across this:

When he saw me he didn't run away and, instead, we held a spontaneous staring contest. I was the first one to blink, although he had an unfair advantage because snakes don't have eyelids.

FYI, yesterday I mentioned how I characterize pictures. The snake photos are "three-bite pictures." Costly, but worth it, because I have a duty to people reading this blog, and will perform that duty even to the ends of anemia.

I hope this next section doesn’t come across as crass, because that’s certainly not my intention. My goal is for you to understand what it’s like to be taking a tour like this... to show the blemished reality - not only the high points like The Last Resort bar, but also the low points like North Carolina drivers. When you're touring on a bike, anything can happen.

First of all, you need to understand just how bad the mosquitoes are. It isn't an annoyance where you happen to notice one or two on occasion. The air is thick with dozens of them every time I stop, and they’ve become insane, flying kamikazes whose only intention is to stick you, inject their anticoagulant saliva into your skin, then drain your blood. They're swarming.

The second thing you should know is medical: as men get older, their prostates becomes larger. This unfortunate process leads to a urinary urgency which occurs.... oh, let's see.... I'd guess about every fifteen seconds.

Because it had been more than the requisite quarter minute, I pulled my bike over, parked it, and scanned the trail to ensure no one was approaching from either direction. I again hosed down every inch of my body with insect repellent, including all of my clothing, knowing how thin cycling jerseys and shorts are. With another quick glance in both directions, I pulled my shorts down with one hand, and with the other I appropriated the equipment I needed, then let the urine flow.

When I say "I again hosed down every inch of my body with insect repellent," what I actually mean is every inch except the part of my body I had just uncovered. Instantly a mosquito landed there, right on top, the only place without insect repellent.

When I was seeing patients in the clinic, there was an interesting phenomenon: most men wouldn’t come in even if had fractured their hip, their femur was sticking out, visible and exposed.... just not that big of a deal, and certainly not severe enough to warrant a trip all the way into town. However, any insignificant issue with their genitals?

“DAMN IT, MAN! I NEED TO SEE HIM TODAY! NOW!"

Such was my feeling as I looked down, both of my hands occupied as I spied the largest mosquito in human history. But what could I do? Swat it? How? And with which hand? Whichever one I use is going to cause a problem: if I let go of the one holding my shorts, they’ll jerk back up into place, resulting in urine spraying everything from my waist up, including my head and face. If I let go of the other hand then things fall back into place and I spray everything from my waist down.

In a split second decision I performed a maneuver I now call the Thumb Tap. Without releasing either hand, I moved my thumb over and crushed the malicious little hemovore and, I have to say, it felt even better than the sweet release of urine flowing from my bladder.

I would like to point out that using the term "Thumb Tap" shows a significant amount of restraint on my part, and a distinct lack of coarse humor.

Honestly, though, my mind reeled with the possibilities of alternate names, all of which were then discarded for the sake of the high class literature and sophistication that readers are used to seeing on CycleBlaze, if not on my blog.

But I know you're thinking about those other names.

I rode on the Western Maryland Rail Trail (WMRT) for final 11 miles into Hancock. The surface was glassine, and wonderful, although it had just as many mosquitoes.

There were a couple of these along the trail. There's nothing anywhere near them so I have no idea as to their purpose.

The Western Maryland Rail Trail made the last section into town glide by. The C&O Bike Shop is just off the trail and I stopped there to have my tires filled, although I always feel guilty for something even as simple as that when I don't buy anything. Fortunately, my cheapness overpowers even my guilt.

Another Subway sandwich for lunch, and I was again reminded how different they all are. While the one in Williamsport seemed more standardized, this one was clearly a family-run operation: the wife playing with their infant son in the dining room while the husband made my sandwich, Middle Eastern music playing in the background.

From there, I stopped at Dollar General where I purchased dinner, some candy, and, most importantly, some bug spray with 45% DEET. What's a potential increase in the risk of seizures, or even cancer, compared to more mosquito bites. I'm done.... I'll take my chances with the chemotherapy and radiation.

After checking into my lodgings for the night, the Potomac River Motel, I was able to wash the dirt off my bike with their water hose, the first time it's been cleaned since the car wash. When I found out that they allow you to take your bike into the room I asked Alan, the maintenance guy, whether cyclists leave the rooms dirty, or worse, greasy. He said the rooms are usually clean, but we tend to ruin the towels.

It was 66 degrees when I left this morning, and 67 degrees when I finished riding at the end of the day.

There's a 25% chance that it won't rain tomorrow.

The American Heart Association and other organizations suggest aiming for 1,500 mg of sodium per day, or less. This has 870 mg.

The rain politely waited until I was in my hotel room and ready for bed before it arrived.

Of all the hotels I've stayed in since starting my trip, this is the best deal. $77.00 for a clean suite that sleeps four people, and the staff were some of the nicest yet.

When you look at the map below keep in mind that the width of Maryland at this point in Hancock is a mere 1.8 miles (2.9 kilometers), making it the narrowest non-island part of any U.S. state. West Virginia to the south, just across the river, and Pennsylvania to the north.

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Today's ride: 27 miles (43 km)
Total: 1,687 miles (2,715 km)

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Larry FrahmBeautiful turtles! I agree, the gold one must be royal. Your photos are excellent.
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1 day ago

Mark M.Two points. Firstly, I've always been celibate whilst on a Virgin airways flight. I take my hat off to anyone who's managed to do differently, though. (Just my hat, to be clear).

The impromptu-stop-mosquito-crush incident interests me. Personally, and at the risk of oversharing, I find I can easily drink a litre or more every hour when cycling and not need to stop all day. I've always assumed it's the sweating, because that absolutely wouldn't happen away from bike touring. I need some medical reassurance, now. I feel a bout of hypochondria coming on.
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22 hours ago