(Mostly) Happy Trails

   A couple of weekends ago I was contacted by a gentleman who was interested in the Flandria Freddy Maertens bicycle I had built this spring. Robert lived in Rhode Island, but he mentioned that he preferred not to have the bike shipped and that he would be willing to drive. I suggested, since I enjoy riding in the New York City area so much, that we link up part way. After thinking about it for a little while, I decided to revisit the Putnam & North County Trailways, a ride I did back in 2019, and we planned to meet in the village of Elmsford, about four miles southwest of Sleepy Hollow.
   The drive and sale went smoothly, and I set off on a beautiful morning on a cycling route that would approach the metric century distance. Having visited this corridor on the Croton Aqueduct loop I’ve ridden many times, I am very familiar with the North County Trailway as it parallels NY Routes 9, 100 and the Taconic Parkway. I soon noted that some of the on-road parts of the trail were now on a completely separate paved pathway along Saw Mill River Road.
   I recalled that the trail was definitely not flat, climbing from about 200 feet at the bridge crossing the New Croton Reservoir up to 700 feet at Lake Mahopac, but it was built on a New York Central railroad grade, so none of the inclines were too steep. There was a cool breeze and my legs felt pretty fresh, despite a 40-mile ride I had done with my regular cycling crew the previous day.
   I was remembering many of the landmarks, especially the reservoir bridge:

   …and the station in Yorktown Heights. The structure had undergone a historical renovation, including replacement of a gable over its entrance and the restoration of its original chimney. The station had also been repainted to a brown and white scheme, instead of the two-tone green I had seen during the past trip:

   I had an entertaining conversation with an older fellow where the trail splits near Lake Gleneida. The trail markings weren’t obvious here, and I could not see that the path dead-ended shortly to the left. When I asked if the right-hand trail leads to Brewster, he replied, “I’ve lived all my life here in Carmel, and I have no idea! I walk all these different segments of trail regularly, and I have no idea what any of them are named or anything.” We laughed, and I told him that if I ended up in the right direction, I’d probably be seeing him on the return leg (I did).
   For some reason, the approach to Brewster seemed unfamiliar, though it was probably only because I was going the other direction. I circled around the village to find the connection with the Maybrook Trailway, which is part of the Empire State Trail system, which starts near the Connecticut state line and links to the Dutchess Rail Trail, the Walkway Over the Hudson and eventually the Erie Canalway Trail to form a statewide cycling route with very limited miles on trafficked roads!
   I did a couple of miles on the Maybrook line, until I reached a bridge that was being reconstructed, then had a nice conversation with a gentleman who “used to be a REAL cyclist” and was accompanying his young grandchildren out on a spin. I told him I could tell he used to ride, if only because when I replied to his question about where I was from, he didn’t act stunned to see someone from Philadelphia riding all the way out here! He told me about some of his longer cycling adventures across the state, and I reciprocated with tales about great rides around the Finger Lakes and near Rochester.
   I told him that I was off to town to find a bathroom and a water refill, then said my goodbye. I laughed to myself when I heard him tell the kids to watch as I clicked into my pedals.
   The climb back to Mahopac was a couple hundred feet over a shorter distance, and I was looking forward to the long stretches of slightly downhill on the way back. The knobby terrain and thick forests out here keep some segments of the asphalt from ever seeing direct sunlight. I remembered parts of the path being covered with a thin layer of slippery moss, but it had been dry for over a week, so my caution when traversing these sections proved unnecessary.
   Now, with no need to keep anything in reserve for the trip back, I was really able to open up the speed on the gradual descent. I realize that familiarity with surroundings can make the return miles seem shorter, but I felt like it took only half the time to get back to my car!

   Sue and I are University of Maryland alumni, and during our years there, we made several trips to Baltimore, but during our time at school Memorial Stadium was still standing. We saw a couple football games there and attended an Orioles game against the Yankees. I fondly recall all-time favorite Rickey Henderson hitting a leadoff homer for the Bronx Bombers.
   Being a baseball guy, you’d think sometime since its opening in 1992 that I would have made a trip to Camden Yards. I’ve seen Inter Milan and Liverpool soccer games just a short walk away, at the Ravens’ M&T Bank Stadium, but alas, no baseball! Well, with the O’s having a resurgence with division titles the last two years, I made it a mission to go see a game this season.
   So, we planned to stay a few days in the Charm City, catch a game and also check out some of the area trails while we were there. Wouldn’t you know it, the Birds have a completely disastrous season full of injury and underperformance, and although we were able schedule our visit while the Pirates, my favorite team, were in town, they’ve sucked for years, and all enthusiasm was essentially sucked out of the atmosphere, as far as the crowd was concerned.
   Still, it was a beautiful late-summer evening, and the stadium remains a fantastic venue. When it was built, Camden Yards led the way in the construction of “retro parks” that occurred during the 1990s-early-2000s. The wonderful, nostalgic feel it still there, and at least the game was competitive, going into extra innings before Pittsburgh’s bullpen let them down, again.

   The next afternoon, we drove from our hotel in Jessup, MD, out to the town of Glen Burnie, where there was a trailhead for the B&A Trail, built on the former route of the Baltimore and Annapolis Railroad. The 13-mile, smooth tarmac path leads southeast along the Severn River through the neighborhoods of Pasadena, Severna Park, Arnold and Cedarwood Cove to the bridge across the river onto the grounds of the U.S. Naval Academy.
   Much of the route is in forested suburbs running along MD Route 2. At the upper end there were a couple of intersections with heavily-trafficked roads, but there were crossing signals to aid safe passage. The rest of the route was fairly rural. We passed a couple of small farms along the way, and we encountered just a handful of road crossings with maybe a car or two.
   It was a sunny day, but we were mostly in the shade until Annapolis. We rightly expected the route to be pan-flat, that is until the off-streets section ended just after passing below U.S. Route 50 and its intersection with MD-450 (Governor Ritchie Highway). From there it was a rolling descent to the Chesapeake estuary.

High above the Severn with the Naval Academy on right, Chesapeake Bay in distance

   The wind was whipping a bit across the bridge, making for a challenging crossing high over the Severn. Obviously, the Naval grounds were off-limits to cyclists, but we made a left turn on King George Street and worked our way to the marinas downtown. We’ve never been big shoppers, but I can understand the charm of Annapolis, especially if you have money to burn.
   I really did enjoy the narrow, brick-surfaced roads, as they had a European feel, and I think Sue even got a kick out of the short climb up Francis Street to the Maryland State House and the loop road around it:

   We went around about one and a half times, then turned onto the appropriately-named Maryland Avenue and met up again with King George Street. The climbs back to the trail proper were not welcomed by my riding partner, but I appreciated the chance to get in a brief workout after all this “leisure riding”.
   Always Ice Cream in Severna Park was a “must stop” on the way back, and we enjoyed their lemon-poppy, chocolate (was like a ball of Fudgesicle) and black cherry flavors. We sat outside to eat, right across from yet another railroad station that I could add to the “collection” (number 717 on my list).

   We had originally planned to do the Gwynns Falls Trail on our last full day in Baltimore and have a lazy check-out the following morning, but the weather wasn’t totally cooperating. Sue wasn’t as enthusiastic about the last ride day, either, so we checked out early, and she accompanied me over to the trailhead and did her own thing while I rode.
   Honestly, she didn’t miss a whole lot, when I consider some of the really nice trails we’ve ridden during our travels. The trail started in a rather strange location, where Interstate 70 abruptly dead ends, west of its intersection with I-695, the Baltimore Beltway. The story is that construction was brought to a halt by protests about the destruction of natural areas, homes and businesses in the path of the proposed I-70 route through Baltimore to its planned link with I-95. Now there is a strange paved U-turn at a park near the upper reaches of (appropriately named?) Dead Run, right at the city’s western border.
   The trail’s condition overall seemed influenced by an under-budgeted parks department, as it mostly lacked any maintenance. I could also tell there was no regular patrol of the trail, because I passed at least half a dozen abandoned "Lime" electric scooters from the city's rideshare program. There were a few nicer sections through small parks that the trail intersected as it ran eastward toward Inner Harbor, but that was probably thanks to local community volunteer work.
   Strangely the path had nice little distance markers every half mile, but there were few direction signs at splits in the path or at road intersections where the trail was changing directions. I have a familiarity with Baltimore and have an innate sense of direction. I also studied the trail map available on the Rails-to-Trails Conservancy’s TrailLink site, so I had minimal problems negotiating my way into the city, but I can imagine the frustration a visitor might encounter trying to follow the route with the current lack of signage!

   The paved route had a couple of fun, short switchback areas where elevation changed quickly then did a brief stretch to the north before turning to a more rugged, gravel path after crossing the bridge at Windsor Mill Road. Just under two miles later, I was back on the asphalt along Franklintown Road and heading into Leon Day Park.
   There was soon a series of bridges over the Gwynns Falls stream and over the railroad local freight lines. One amusing railroad overpass immediately sent the trail steeply ducking under the historic Carrollton Viaduct, the first stone masonry bridge for railroad use. Built for the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad in 1829, it is the oldest such bridge still in service in the U.S. Now occasionally seeing trains for CSX Transportation, the viaduct is one of the world's oldest railroad bridges continuing to handle rail traffic!

   I was soon into Carroll Park and then the “grittier” section of the ride, the industrial area southwest of the stadium complex. The Gwynns Falls Trail actually extends over 19 miles, past the stadiums and looping into the Inner Harbor. I’ve been through those parts of the city before and didn’t want to keep Sue waiting too long, so I eliminated the areas by cutting straight across Bush Street to meet the trail as it heads south to Westport, shortening my route to about 12.5 miles.
   This neighborhood really seems to be a real case of “the other side of the tracks”, as the light rail system splits one of the poorer, rowhouse sections of Baltimore from another with a waterfront that has seen some revitalization. The trail here really needs a facelift with many old, warped boardwalks adjacent to the route detracting from the attractive views across the Patapso River basin and the distant city skyline.
   After turning around just past the waterfront trail section near Medstar Harbor Hospital, I retraced my outbound path. Again, in an effort to cut down on ride time, I reduced the return leg to 10.5 miles by staying on Franklintown Road after passing through Leon Day Park. I returned to the marked trail via the abandoned bridge to Wetheredsville Road.
   I was very appreciative of Sue’s patience while I was exploring with my bike, but there was a good amount of climbing overall, and I’m sure she enjoyed her books and “vegging out” more than she would have riding one of Baltimore’s less-polished trails.