Pedaling with Paw Paws

Sunday was a humid but overcast day, a heavy fog pushing down on the mountain and hill tops, giving an impression that it would suddenly pour with rain at any moment. But the forecast was good, the sun was going to battle its way through the grey clouds, so a bike ride was my plan. I'd found a new route, a loop that would start in Leesburg and take me on trails and along quiet roads. The boys hadn't shown a lot of interest, more keen to hear about my report afterwards, so I went alone. I took the bike I'd bought cheaply from Jason, it was finally a comfortable ride now, a new handlebar stem and raising the saddle meant I could stretch out my legs while pedaling.
I set off from the center of Leesburg, immediately hitting the W&OD trail, and noticing after a short distance that this bike was going to be a much harder ride than my Bianchi. But I had started, so I'd finish, I was determined to do this loop.

The air was warming up but it was still very muggy as after about 7 miles I left the familiar trail and ventured into new cycling territory. I had a map and cue sheet so constant stops were necessary to ensure I was going the right way, especially as map reading skills are pretty poor unfortunately. Soon I was on a country lane riding towards Waterford, a pretty little town I'd last visited at Christmas 2015. It was a lot different today, quiet with nobody about, it seemed they were all still in bed or maybe at church.

I had to stop when I saw that the road in front of me was covered with smashed and flattened chestnuts. These trees aren't as widespread here in America as they are in England. I couldn't resist. The bike was dropped and I spent a good 15 minutes picking up the nuts from both sides of the road, and I have to confess I did walk a little ways up the driveway, fully expecting to be yelled at. But no one came out to berate me, and soon I had a sizeable hoard tucked inside my backpack. A tasty surprise for Sebastian and Suzie Squirrels when I get home.

I continued cycling through the village, which was still completely deserted, it felt weird, and soon I was pedaling uphill towards Taylorstown. The lanes were peaceful, very few cars passed by, leaving me free to fully take in the scenic views around me.

It did cross my mind that some of the vistas were very Kentish in their appearance. If there had been the accompanying rustic smells that are always noticeable in England, I could easily have closed my eyes and imagined myself to be back home again. But there were no earthy aromas of damp grass or leaves, very little bird song, and anyway, I wouldn't have got too far riding my bike with my eyes shut!
I stopped at a beautiful barn called Waterford Downs Show Bar, but found absolutely nothing about it on the internet, not even its correct address, which was odd. I submitted the name to Google maps, it was accepted, so my listing is now published here. By the gates were some Kousa Dogwood trees loaded with small fruits. I remembered trying these a few years ago in DC so stood pulling them off and sucking at the pulpy seed pods. I enjoyed the flavor but had to soon give up, the fruits were mostly over ripe and a huge swarm of fruit flies were constantly buzzing around my head, making me feel very itchy all of a sudden.

A couple of miles along I had to stop again, an expanse of colored mushrooms catching my eye on the side of the road. Blue Cortinarius and yellow Amanita Muscaria mushrooms were clustered in the long grass under a large tree. Beautifully vibrant on this dull and overcast day I had to take some photos. But I didn't pick any, I'm always mistrustful of being able to identify any fungi correctly. and they looked far prettier nestled in the emerald grass than on any plate.
Up and down  small hillocks I rode, really noticing how hard this bike was compared to my Green Genie. Even down the hills I had to continue pedaling to keep the bike going and I noticed a strange action, almost like see sawing when I finally did manage to freewheel down a hill. I realized my front brakes were perpetually on and rubbing against the wheel rim, not enough to make a lot of difference, but it made a noise and definitely contributed to my mental struggle. But as I approached Taylorstown, the downward hill became steeper and I was immensely satisfied to know I'd broken the speed limit of 20mph as I tore over the little bridge, up a short hill and slowed to a halt at the abandoned general store.

There was absolutely nothing here at Taylorstown, except a winery and a few houses. And once again it was deserted. I sat on the swing bench outside the old store to check my map and drink some water, while a dog barked at me as it tore back and forth along its yard fence across the road. I couldn't listen to too much of that so was soon on my way again. Just up the hill I turned on to a gravel road and made my way, mostly on foot, up the hill, my calf muscles stretching as I pushed the bike up the slope. There were a few houses, more barking dogs, and I actually felt a little uncomfortable being in such a desolate place on my own with nobody else to be seen. I was expecting to hear a banjo strumming in the steep valley below...
Eventually I crested the hill and started downwards very slowly on the gravel. I saw a lady sitting on her porch with her morning drink and greeted her with a 'good Morning!", happy to see someone. Then I realized that the trees on either side of me were paw paws. I dismounted and walked down the hill, looking into the foliage for those delicious fruits that I'd only tasted for the first time last year. But sadly I saw none. At the bottom of the hill I was back into civilization. Traffic whizzed past noisily and I had a very short ride before I was on the bridge crossing over The Potomac toward Point of Rocks.

I pedaled along this narrow sidewalk, which was a little unnerving, but my balance is good and I managed to stay upright, even though I knew that it would have been more sensible to have pushed my bike across. The Potomac looked peaceful and still, no kayaks or canoes on the water or fishermen on its banks. I dropped down towards the rail station on the other side and crossed the tracks where the last 12 miles of my ride would be on the C&O Canal trail. I've not been on this stretch before so was looking forward to seeing more new terrain.

The sun had burnt through the clouds by now and was building up its heat, but on the trail underneath the leafy canopy it was cool. Everywhere was so green and lush. The trail's surface was a little muddy in places but otherwise fine. I did notice that most other riders were on bikes with thin tires, more like my Bianchi, but I felt better riding the Raleigh, especially with the bumps and gravel. I noticed on the ground that there were dozens of mushy paw paws, brown and rotting, so assumed that because I hadn't seen any earlier, that the season was over. But then I spotted some on the ground that were still green so stopped immediately.

This beauty was a good 6" long without a blemish. I carefully wrapped it in paper napkins and tissues and placed it inside my backpack. I was delighted that I'd have my paw paw fix this year after all. Continuing my ride I was now on the look out for more and I wasn't disappointed. They were everywhere. I kept stopping and knowing they wouldn't transport well on my bike, because they're so soft, I would simply stand and eat them as I found them. I giggled when looking back along the trail I would see other cyclists doing the exact same thing. I lost count of how many times I stopped to eat the fruit but I did stuff another couple in my bag; one would be for Maggi, who I bet hadn't tasted one this year. I later found out that she'd never eaten one, so was glad she had the opportunity to try one.
Paw paws are highly nutritious but can be quite elusive. They tend to grow more where water is nearby, so seeing abundant fruit bearing trees wedged between the canal and the river was no surprise.

The Monocacy Aqueduct, built from 1829-33 and costing $127,000, the rock quarried from nearby Sugarloaf Mountain. I sat here for a while watching the water barely moved underneath. I had only munched a few mouthfuls of jerky before the mosquitoes became too numerous, buzzing in my face, and I moved on.

I passed Lock House 27 where, 'In September 1862, Thomas Walker, the lock tender at this lock, learned that Confederate troops under General A. P. Hill intended to blow up the Monocacy Aqueduct. He pleaded with General Hill not to destroy the aqueduct. Walker recommended that the Confederates cut through the towpath bank and drain the canal. Instead Hill's troops blew a hole in Lock 27. When they learned what Walker had done, the C&O Canal Company fired him. People from the area around Lock 27 petitioned the canal company, saying that Walker's actions had protected the Monocacy Aqueduct, and thus the whole canal. The canal company ultimately reinstated Walker.' - Quoted from www.canaltrust.org.

I carried on pedaling along the path, passing a few other cyclists, but for the most part riding alone. Around me I could hear the paw paws occasionally thudding to the ground. They drop as soon as they're ripened. The air was fragrant with their scent, a wonderful tropical, vanilla, banana aroma. When picking them up from the ground, many are bruised and covered with small ants who evidently adore the soft pudding textured fruit as much as us humans do.
The 12 miles passed quickly and I was surprised when I suddenly emerged from the tree covered trail on the road immediately next to White's Ferry.

I didn't even have to wait for the crossing. The ferry was empty and the gates open, waiting for passengers to board. I walked down last and stood by the railing as we slowly crossed the Potomac, leaving Maryland to step out into Virginia on the other side. The last leg of my ride was sharing the road with traffic as I approached Leesburg. The sun was blistering hot now and there was no shelter as I pedaled furiously along the shoulder, anxious to escape being so close to the exhaust fumes from the vehicles thundering past. I was soon back at Stanley and loaded the bike in the back. It hadn't performed as well as the Bianchi but I decided I'd work with it. If I can get the brakes fixed and lose that odd juddering motion when going downhill, then I'll keep it. Contented, I drove home, savoring the cool AC and the delicious aroma of paw paw perfume wafting about the car, my precious fruit cargo nestled on cushions of more soft napkins and tissues.