It would be understandable, of course, to see the walk on the C&O Canal as monotonous. For miles and miles, the scenery is consistent–the canal (with widely varying water depth) to the right, the Potomac somewhere to the left (sometimes immediately adjacent, sometimes separated by a patch of woods, and the flat trail marching steadily onward and backward. Every once in a while, a whitewashed lock house looms over a long retired lock, often adjacent to a parking lot and a porta-potty. Every five miles or so, there’s a campground. When one is within a mile or two of one of those parking lots, there tends to be a handful of other trail-users–bikers, joggers, and couples with dogs. Otherwise, though, it is pure, unremitting solitude.
Heck, check back with me in a couple of days and there’s a good chance that I’ll be feeling the monotony, too.
For now, though, I’m still in the honeymoon stage. On Wednesday, I made it back onto the C&O around 6:30am. I left it around 2pm today to hitch into Harpers Ferry. Aside from a 45-minute detour into Brunswick for a snack earlier today, that means I was on it for more than 30 consecutive hours, including a night spent camping on the banks of the Potomac. Over that time, I saw a steady stream of herons, including one snagging a fish right in front of me. I saw (and heard) woodpeckers, with flaming red manes, doing their work on trees. I had an owl swoop right over me this morning, and a group of five buzzards leering at me from across the canal. I watched three deer bound past in the trees to my left this morning and had a short conversation with a fox on the opposite bank yesterday. And the turtles! Once afternoon hits, it’s hard to spot a log in the canal that isn’t dotted with the little buggers, and at one point today I saw a massive one lurking beneath the surface near the trail. And that review neglects the extensive fauna that I can’t identify (never mind the flora, where I’m entirely hopeless).
One of the absolute best parts of long-distance walking is that you are free and independent. When traveling by other means, you are always bound by those schedules. If you have a flight at twelve, you have to get to the airport by 10, and you have to figure out the ground transportation to get to the airport, and then the plane is delayed and everything goes to hell. So many variables, all outside of your control. By contrast, the only limiting factors for me are my health and the hours in the day. If I want to stop, I can stop and pitch the bivy (maybe not anywhere, but it’s pretty inconspicuous); if I want to go, I just shoulder the pack and take off. I’m not dependent upon anything. Yesterday, with no towns along the walk, I just settled into a rhythm and cruised along the trail.
Today was a little different, because there were actually two towns to visit along the route, and I was in need of water after camping overnight. I woke up at 6, had camp struck by 6:15, and hustled onward in order to quickly get my body heat activated. With ten miles standing between Point of Rocks and me, I had a ways to go, but I absolutely flew through those miles. I felt completely rejuvenated and was eager to finally make it back into a town. Before I knew it, I was standing at the turnoff… only to realize that there was a train stopped across the tracks. A really, amazingly long train. It had been a presence, largely overlooked, on my right for quite a while, and there was no end to it in sight. Patiently, I took a seat and did all of the little things that need to happen at first break–shaking some pebbles from both shoes, applying sunscreen, switching from the beanie to the bandana. Still no movement. I turned on the cell, fired off a few emails, and shut it back down. Still no movement. Cursing, I abandoned Point of Rocks and returned to the trail. Seven miles to Brunswick.
Once again, I enjoyed a thoroughly easy walk along the C&O, powering through this next section in two hours, feeling great throughout. I was nearly out of water at this point, but I rationed the dregs and wasn’t concerned. It took 5 solid minutes of walking to reach the train’s end and I demonstrated great maturity and restraint by not making a series of uncouth gestures at the conductor. I did wave sympathetically at a woman in the parking lot, her departure also blocked by the train. She had jogged past me 30 minutes earlier, so that train had been taking a nice, long break!
Fortunately, access into Brunswick was clear and I made a beeline to Beans in the Belfry, a coffee shop in a former church. The interior is remarkable–it might be the most stunning coffee shop I’ve ever visited. It was also filled with people, abuzz with conversation and energy. After a half-hour, I pulled myself away, retracing my steps to the C&O… where I encountered a new train, stopped on the tracks, once again blocking my access. Fortunately, nobody was close at hand when I cursed audibly.
I sat down and waited for five minutes, then got angry and turned right, determined to walk around the train and cross back to the canal, even if it meant that I needed to wade through the canal. Fortunately, the end of the train wasn’t too far off, and there was an easy connection back to the trail.
From Brunswick, it should be a seven-mile walk to the pedestrian bridge across the Potomac to Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. Unfortunately, the bridge was destroyed when a freight train derailed and plummeted into the river in December. The government has been deliberating the possibility of a shuttle for the better part of two months since then, with still no solution imminent. It’s not a major problem now–few tourists are here this time of year. However, around June the bridge becomes a critical link in the Appalachian Trail and hordes of hikers come passing through.
Left to my own devices, I broke from the ADT and the Appalachian Trail and climbed to the highway, then stuck out my thumb. 10 minutes later, I was cruising into West Virginia. Tomorrow, I’ll hire a local driver to get me back across.
So, while my point still stands–the freedom of walking is glorious–I should allow that trains still have the capacity to totally interfere with one’s day.
