Diverted Trips (C&O)

 

After our Saturday morning chores, we wanted the opportunity to take advantage of cooler weather and make our way to the towpath. I had successfully walked away from the animal rescue tent outside our local Tractor Supply Store, and the sad tale of Kitten (her temporary name), who had survived multiple surgeries and a rough start to life. The five-month-old was now ready for adoption. There was no way we could adopt this cute thing with our monster cats. Yet, her story was compelling, and something inside of me wanted to care for her, nonetheless. The volunteer successfully did her job: I dropped a donation in the box. Kitten would get a home, and the work of the local shelter would continue, and I would only be out a few dollars. Of course, I would later tell the tale to Clowder and finish with, “What lucky cats you are.”

Because it was a relatively nice weekend, albeit cloudy, I wanted to start at a closer access point that was not too crowded. The area around Taylors Landing is an interesting area, and relatively close for us.  Once we had our boots on, and cameras and maps arranged, only to find a man sitting on the edge of the canal. At first, I thought he was waiting on someone, perhaps a pickup after a long walk. But it was obvious that he was in some distress. Steve was asking for help; he had walk out pretty far, 14 miles by his guess, and had only made it back halfway before his hip hurt so much that he could go no farther. We offered him a ride back to his car – actually, Angie did before I even realized what was going on – which was at Lock 38 parking lot, across the river from Shepherdstown. Along the way, Steve was quite chatty, explaining that it was his first-time walking on the towpath and how he had just moved to area to take a one-year job at Shepherd University. He was staying just outside of town, and was awed by all the trees in the area, something that I confessed, many of us take for granted.

The towpath around Shepherdstown is beautiful and compelling. But it is narrow, and the number of people who are biking numerous. This is especially true on a Saturday afternoon when the weather is very good. During the summer, it can be muggy with bothersome with mosquitos. But it was cool enough that insects were not a problem.

Following the Battle of Antietam, Confederate troops withdrew from Maryland at Pack Horse Ford, just downstream from the bridges to Shepherdstown. It is well documented and many people on the trail are neither hikers or bikers, but Civil War buffs interested in seeing the terrain where the battle took place. More interesting to me, but without the signs explaining its history, is the little village of Millers Sawmill, nestled between bluffs and the towpath. The trees are laden with English Ivy, whose fragrance gives a slightly sweet smell to the air. I remembered that I had walked through the village in the winter a few years before and watched a flock of Eastern bluebirds waiting out the cold weather in the safety of the big sycamore trees. Now, however, two hummingbirds looking for sustenance at late summer forget-me-nots on the towpath. As September unfolds, seeing hummingbirds in the wild, rather than at a feeder remains a thrill. The eastern US has only one species, the ruby-throated, which darts with no more than the sound of a large insect. If you are not looking for them, they usually remain unobserved. Their movements, insect-like, means one is never sure about what you saw, large insect or your imagination. Observing them at a feeder is like watching an endless game of capture the flag. A bird shows up, tentatively approaching the feeder only to have another divebomb leading to an aerial battle. Meanwhile, a third bird comes to partake from the sugar water in the feeder. The process begins once again. 

 

Dragonfly sunning itself along the banks of the Potomac

Male sentinel wild turkey monitoring the retreat of the flock at the C&O parking lot

A Return to the C&O Canal

 

Hancock, Maryland and the C&O Canal

It had been about eleven months since I completed the entire C&O, finishing in downtown Washington DC on a beautiful October afternoon. I have missed our occasional trips to meet the towpath, spending a few hours wandering and discovering, particularly during the height of the pandemic. The introduction of vaccines and the elimination of restrictions meant that life began to return to normal, albeit with a greater sense of apprehension and a nagging feeling of general concern. Life has edged toward what it was once; our schedules began to fill up again and distractions abound. While people stated they wanted to keep the good aspects of life they developed, such as slowing down and enjoying the outdoors, demands and responsibilities inevitably creep in.

Labor Day weekend brought slightly cooler weather to a very hot summer, and we were looking for outdoor activities. I proposed that we return to the Hancock area for an afternoon walking and visiting some of our favorite spots. Soon after we hit the trail it was apparent that it was not as cool as we might have hoped and that the holiday weekend brought activities along the Potomac that were not always conducive to a meditative walk. Hence, the sounds of drag racing at the small airport echoed across the river and drowned out the sounds of birds and nature. The distorted public address system announcing the unseen cars before they gunned their engines to make a short, loud quarter-mile journey dominated the soundscape. It was probably too hot and humid for the birds anyway, I reasoned. We walked to the Bowles Farmhouse, built in the 1780s at Lock 52 that predating the canal, served as a supply station for those who worked the canal boat on the downstream side of Hancock and the Tonoloway Aqueduct.

Angie declared the weather too hot and muggy upon our return to Hancock, but I opted for a bit more on the trail, walking a mile west of town and into unpopulated wooded areas of the trail. Either the races had ended, or I was too far to hear the sound. I remember this area as being a particularly good place to see wildlife and birds. It was hot, in the middle of the afternoon, so I was not counting on any animals making an appearance. Nevertheless, numerous butterflies worked the wildflowers and I inadvertently disturb a couple of deer getting a much-needed drink while in the canal.

One of our favorite places along the towpath is the restaurant and antique store, BuddyLou’s in downtown Hancock, providing good food, drinks, and ice cream to hikers, bikers, and the public. Prior to the pandemic, Buddylou’s served a chili-rubbed tuna sandwich that made me device reasons to visit Hancock. Although my favorite sandwich disappeared, the food remains excellent and the deck, during good weather, is a great place to relax, before or after a trip on the C&O or the Western Maryland rail trail. We are often seated on an enclosed porched, where there are several tables for two. The walls are lined with various antiques, including many televisions and radios, items that are especially fascinating to me.  As a child, I remember that long, slow fade of the screen dissolving into a single pixel when you turned the television off. Alternatively, as a teenage I enjoyed scanning the radio dial, looking for distant stations (DXing) and hearing different music on static-filled AM radio stations. Seated at a high-top table I kept examining a brass thermostat switch at my left elbow. Removed from the device, the switch provided a choice of temperatures: cold-tepid-warm-hot. What modern device would use the word tepid?

The eclectic collection of items at BuddyLou's

A woman glazes from a framed magazine advertisement, her pearls dangle from her mouth, in the men’s restroom at Buddylou’s. The copy seductively asks if the reader has ever been taken to the movies in a Rolls-Royce, or if a Hollywood producer has ever begged to know the reader’s name. I muse about the questions, sexists as they are, and how a reader in Hancock, Maryland must have considered them. Was anyone in this small town along the Potomac River tempted to by the perfume in the hope that the fragrance would “take you places”? This canal I love to walk was perhaps that thing that offered to take people places, but as technology developed, the methodology changed. A professor once said that all advertisement is built upon a logical fallacy; we do not need the things that are advertised. It is not perfumes that lead us to adventures, it is ourselves.

Rough Edges Brewery (Waynesboro, PA)

 

After an early evening outdoor jazz concert in Main Street Park with Paul Bollenback and Pat Bianchi, and an excellent meal at Sapporo Japanese restaurant, we wandered down to Rough Edges Brewery for an after-dinner beer. Recently renovated, the converted storefront with tin ceilings is spacious and inviting. We opted instead for the limited outdoor seating along West Main Street to watch the world go by on a late summer evening.

I sampled the Promiscuous Strange Porter 4.7ABV.

Black Swan roll from Sapporo Restaurant

At dinner we met a couple who were enjoyable interesting rolls at the Japanese restaurant. I had noticed them earlier at the concert because the man was wearing a Michigan Tech t-shirt, the university located in Houghton in the Upper Peninsula. While chatting we learned it was the couple’s anniversary and we mused about the weather and beauty of the area. After they left, the encounter led to a sanguine conversation about when we could return to the Keweenaw and enjoy the quiet, beautiful summers of Northern Michigan. 

Rough Edges Brewery

 

The art deco style Wayne Building in Waynesboro