Conversations in Solitude with the Trail and the Sycamores

Paw Paw to Frostburg | Daily Miles: 46 | Tour Miles: 218

Typical view as I pedaled west on the C&O

Alone time is when I distance myself from the voices of the world so I can hear my own. – Oprah Winfrey

The Daily Pulse

I mounted my bike under a light mist and headed out of Paw Paw toward the C&O Canal Trail. Last night’s rain must have been gentle, since there were no puddles on the path. It turned out to be a ride defined by solitude.

The stretch between Paw Paw and Frostburg is quite remote, a winding trail through the mountains that follows the Potomac River. Not long after leaving town, I passed Oldtown, a small country crossroads lost in history. Before long, I reached Cumberland, the end of the C&O, and began the sustained climb up Big Savage Mountain to Frostburg, my destination for the night.

The fall colors were really beginning to pop, especially along the mountain climb. For most of the day, I saw few people being west, only three younger bikepackers who kept leapfrogging me. They’d fall behind, then pass me, four times in all. It made me reconsider my direction of travel; next time, I’ll probably ride west to east instead.

Overall, it was a quiet, solitary day on the trail. Few locals were out, likely due to the misty, gray morning. The riders I did see were fellow tourers with panniers or bikepacking setups heading east.

There’s something special about a quiet day like this. It gives you time to think, reflect, and truly soak in your surroundings. I saw plenty of deer and my first great blue heron of the trip. I actually relish days like this, when it feels as if the trail belongs entirely to me.

I can ride at my own pace, stop whenever I like, and take in the beauty around me. I took plenty of photos today with the scenery remarkably photogenic. It may not have been a bright, sunny day, but it was every bit as rewarding, perhaps even more so.

A typical lock and lockhouse that have been common over these 186 miles

Echoes of the Past

Days like this are the essence of a solo bike tour. For me, it’s a time to reflect, to understand why I chose to return and ride alone again. The answer is simple: solitude sharpens awareness in this setting. It allows me to immerse myself in the outdoors in a deeper, more lasting way.

It’s not so different from life off the bike. The best use of solitude, I’ve learned, is to untangle the thoughts that swirl in the mind and to be the one who answers them. Sometimes these inner conversations resolve a problem that once seemed insurmountable. Other times, they end with a chuckle and the realization that an idea was simply an interesting detour of the imagination.

All of this unfolds against the steady rhythm of the bike on the trail. On days like this, solitude becomes a dialogue between the mind and nature. The two merge and, somehow, make sense of one another. More often than not, that harmony leads me somewhere new, and always in a direction that feels right.

The canal was quite reflective today given the overcast sky

The Trail Taught Me

One of the most striking companions along this trail has been the sycamore. These trees, with their pale white and gray bark, stand out boldly against the darker forest. They are the sentinels along the water. They favor the lowlands, gathering along rivers, streams, and, here, the long-forgotten canal beds that once carried boats and commerce instead of cyclists and hikers.

I have one of these giants growing in my pasture at home. I love walking there in the winter, when the sycamores are bare and their mottled trunks gleam in the sun. They’ve been a constant sight over nearly two hundred miles of the C&O Canal, their silhouettes old friends guiding my way through Maryland.

But as I began the climb up Big Savage Mountain, they disappeared. The trail left the river’s edge, trading the soft sound of the river for the sounds of the trees in the breeze.

I bid farewell to the sycamores, the faithful sentinels that had accompanied me for so many miles, knowing they’ll be there, waiting, when I return again.

At the GAP milepost zero in Cumberland ready to climb Big Savage Mountain

Life Reflection

In the quiet of the day, there was also reason to celebrate. I had completed the 186 miles of the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal and begun the 150-mile journey on the Great Allegheny Passage toward Pittsburgh. Somewhere along the way, I crossed the 200-mile mark of this tour—a small milestone, yet one that carried a quiet satisfaction.

Though the two trails meet seamlessly, each has its own character. The C&O whispers of the canal era—of mules, lockhouses, and a slower rhythm of travel—while the GAP carries the spirit of the railroads that once conquered these mountains. Together, they form a passage through both geography and time, a journey that bridges centuries of movement and change.

As the trail shifted upward into the mountains, so did my own rhythm. The terrain, the air, even the light felt different here. The coming days would bring higher climbs and, with them, bursts of autumn color ignited by elevation and season. I moved forward on the bike—and in spirit—leaving behind four memorable days in Maryland and turning toward what lay ahead.

Climbing the Great Allegheny Passage to Frostburg