Maryland in relief

We've made our way back to civilization, of sorts, tonight. After a few days following the Towpath out of D.C., creeping slowly through the woods, we entered an area that showed signs of human life, farms, flat open campsites, and other people on the trail. Mennonite territory, the women tucked away in long dresses and little hats, pulling their kids along behind them. We saw a family of four on one bike, a tandem with a double seat behind, a little boy and girl pedaling behind their parents. So awesome. Maryland has a beauty similar to WI, understated and calm.

We've been sheltered, though, and we came out of our wooded pathway to lodge in Cumberland tonight. Lynch would feel odd in a city like this. It has a look from the 50's, quaint and inviting, but as we strolled through the town square and looked into the shops and diners, we realized that more than half were shut down, the dollhouse has failed, and though everything is kept up, it's also done amd over. We found a mexican joint with outside seating, and as we ate, got a good glimpse of the populace. Shirtless, tattooed, skinny and toothless, all waiting for the meth train. Pitbulls on loosely watched leashes. Sideways stares at the strangers, a sizing up I know all too well. All at odds with the Christmas-village look of the city itself, so clean and kept, stains on the china, a ring around the tub of Cumberland. We ate, thought briefly about a bar, then thought better, were told that no liquor was to be found on a Sunday, and retreated back to the hotel we'd rented for the night, content to wait out the night, sleep well and prepare our legs for the last 25 miles of ascent before we begin to move downwards, on the other side of this mountain range.

I'll miss the trail, it was a unique part of our trip. Today we went through a pitch black tunnel, seven minutes of silence as we moved with only our headlights guiding. I saw a gigantic weasel of some sort crawling up a rock wall, shimmying up quickly and clumsily. Water and turtles and lilypads and more empty shacks, some falling apart, some waiting for the right visitor. I'll miss everything we've seen. So much I can't even remember any of it, not now. I'll process everything when I'm home. When I'm able to think again.

We picked up a fourth rider, at least to Pittsburgh. We stopped earlier to eat in a park, and as a vacationing Marine treated us to some ciders from his cooler, another tourist came riding in, a Japanese man travelling from New York to Los Angeles, his first time touring, his first time in the states. Barely speaks english, and has been sleeping in a tent in parks along the way. He'll ride with us through Pittsburgh, where we'll head North and he'll continue West. When I asked why he chose to ride through the states, he said it's because he wants an American girlfriend. Women are the reason we men do pretty much everything besides sleep and eat, I guess.

We can't help but think of home now. Earlier on it was a longing, a loneliness, a craving. Now that we're almost there, it's more of a comfort, knowing that our love ones are waiting for us, that our beds are ready and we can rest. It'll take a moment or two to reacclimate after being part of the road, I know. It's changed me a little, but I still can't say how, exactly.