I woke up feeling exhausted and a little under-the-weather today. The pounding rain certainly didn't add to my urge to get out on the trail and get going either. Unfortunately, too, I missed the hotel breakfast.

 

Uh oh. Not a good start.

 

I had left off the trail in Rockwood the day before, so that's where I would begin today. It was so cold and wet out that I had bypassed my normal gym short attire and went for the long pants and double jacket. Most assuredly, I did not look like a guy who was riding my bike across the country. Add to my make-shift rain gear a couple of plastic grocery bags over each pant leg and you had a picture that was more tragedy than comedy.

 

But, hey, I was on the bike.

 

After about 8+ miles, I got off the path and headed to Garret to get some hot food. There were tens and tens of vehicles at a Gun Bash (raffling off guns), and there was no doubt this was the town's hot spot. I stopped right down the street at a small, intimate (in that it was sooooo small) cafe. The owner couple was peeling eggs together at a table while they chatted with one local customer. I mentioned the Extra Mile America Tour and what I was doing when the customer said, "Hey...I read about you this morning!" Sure enough, he picked up the paper and showed me my picture(s!) right there on A3 of the local paper.

 

I was starting to feel better already.

 

The owners didn't want to charge me for my terrific veggie omelet and hashbrowns...so I left a $10 tip. We talked about the trail, and Flight 93, which went down near Somerset. Also nearby was the miracle rescue of the "9 for 9" miners story.

 

The stop had no doubt helped my spirits and the food felt so much better, but the ride had to continue. It was still pouring.

 

I pedaled into Meyersdale...and an old train depot. I was so dirty. My back was caked with mud from the trail. Two gals looked out the window at me and must have thought I was a bum. I went in and used the restroom. "Hey...are you the guy from Sacramento in the paper today?" "Yep, that's me!" 

 

They shared that a friend of mine that I had met on the trail yesterday, Dale, had come down earlier and checked if I had come through. They got on the phone and called him. He immediately came down with his wife of 35 years...Rhonda. ("How long have you been with her, Dale?" "My whole life." Dale was 54.)

 

We did the picture thing with everybody, and Dale showed me some very big, zillion year old plant fossils that he had dug up and were now in the train museum. (He does mining.) It was all very cool, and reminded me once again just how great the small town atmosphere really is. 

 

No matter how I had felt earlier this morning, my spirits had been lifted again. When I pedaled away...no matter how hard the rain...no matter how much I was coughing and sneezing...I was the luckiest guy in the world.

 

But it kept raining.

 

My jeans were plastered wet to my skin. The towel I wore under my helmet was drenched. My bike gloves oozed water when I pushed down on the handle bars. It was like I was taking a shower...fully clothed.

 

And it was very, very cold.

 

After Dale said he would help Julian out with directions, I scampered off. I passed the Mason Dixon line and a big "Welcome to Maryland" sign. I was in a new state! I went through the longest tunnel of my life on a bike..."Big Savage" with the 1911 underneath it. It was over 1/2 mile in length and it was very much surreal. The tunnel kept going and going. My adrenaline was racing...the distance in the tunnel...the long, periodic spots of darkness where the ceiling lights were out...I had never had an experience quite like this one.

 

Not much further down the trail, there was yet another tunnel! Not as long, but this one had no lighting. It was pitch black! I could faintly make out the line in the middle of the road...but I wasn't sure. I could see the other side of the tunnel and I used the light to guide me. I went straight for it. Pedaling without being able to see...in the total black...the day kept getting more interesting!

 

I passed my second Continental Divide...the Eastern. It looked as if I was up about 2400 feet elevation and would be dropping down to about 650. Going downhill...to Cumberland...should make the ride less miserable...and faster. If I don't slide.

 

Inside the tunnel, there was a painted map showing the passage trail from Pittsburgh to D.C. with miles and elevations. Outside the tunnel, there was painted, too, a colorful historical note regarding the great George Washington. These were his old stomping grounds.

 

I made it to Frostburg, where I thought I was meeting up with Julian...but he wasn't there. I was freezing...soaked to the skin...and now had no ride out. Oh boy! He obviously had no cell signal because there was no answer. I decided to walk into town, but leaving my coverage in the trees didn't seem appealing...especially since it was another steep hill that these off-the-trail towns were known for. 

 

Thankfully...two vehicles appeared! Julian was in one...and my friends Dale and Rhonda were leading the way! My own version of the calvary was here!

 

Even more, Dale was ready to ride, too! He had "biked up" and wanted to take me down the last 15 miles of the day to Cumberland. I changed into dry clothes in the van and took up his offer. We rode together again!

 

We had a great ride that went very fast. The mud and rain didn't matter. It was just great conversation with two guys that seemed like friends forever...just two "young kids" riding their bikes in the rain and not even seeming to notice.

 

I was sad to say good-bye to my riding partner of two days. He had pulled me through one more time. ALL the people I met pulled me through today.

 

I will always remember today. It will be one that I will never forget.

 

PS: Thank you so much, Dale! It has been my true pleasure to meet such a gentleman. I will miss riding with you.