Finding Beauty in Nature at the Speed of a Bike

Georgetown to Harpers Ferry |Daily Miles: 63 |Tour Miles

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately... to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” - Henry David Thoreau, Walden

The Daily Pulse

Beauty — that single word sums up the day. It was truly a beautiful ride. Over the 63 miles I cycled, the season changed before my eyes. The early miles were green. As I headed west, the colors of fall gradually appeared. There was beauty in the stillness. The quiet trail offered long stretches without seeing another person, giving me time to reflect and take in the world around me.

Twice along the way, I crossed paths with deer, encounters that were far different from the usual fleeting glimpse as they dart away. Two deer were wading through the canal, unbothered by my presence as they calmly continued across. Later, I spotted a deer standing in the canal ahead. I stopped, expecting it to run, but it simply looked back at me. I took a quick photo, and then we quietly went our separate ways.

It was a day to slow down and fully experience nature — the sights, the sounds, and the sound of my tires on the canal towpath, river, and nature all blending into one peaceful moment.

Echoes of the Past

Returning to a familiar place stirs memories. Some feel timeless, echoing perfectly in the present, just as you remembered them. Others belong to the past, their connection to today faded or gone.

The most vivid memory that surfaced today came at mile 25. I could picture that same stretch in 2017 when I rode it with friends. We had set out on the Towpath after days of torrential rain and flooding along the Potomac.

The trail was technically open, rideable with caution, but we soon discovered just how muddy “rideable” could be. Around mile 25, we hit deep, sticky river mud that clung to our tires, chain, and fenders like glue.

What followed was a mix of riding, walking, and scraping mud off with whatever sticks we could find. Several friends weren’t so lucky; broken derailleurs forced them to walk long stretches. I managed to make it through and finally rolled into White’s Ferry, muddy but relieved.

Today couldn’t have been more different. The towpath was dry, smooth, and beautiful, easily the best 10 miles of the 63 I rode. When the ride is effotless, smooth, your mind has space to simply take in the scenery, and that’s exactly what I did.

Still, thinking back to that ride in 2017, I couldn’t help but smile. Those tough, messy miles may not have been pretty, but they’re the ones that stay with me. Every seasoned bicycle tourist knows: the most memorable moments are often born from the hardest challenges, the ones that test you, and remind you why you ride and return.

Gardner and Ken

The Trail Taught Me

I met a variety of people on the trail today. Many were the usual, a mix of hikers, cyclists, and dog walkers, but a few encounters really stood out and made the day especially memorable.

First, there was Gardner and his horse, Ken, a Percheron and Quarter Horse cross. I slowed down and rode alongside them for a bit. We had a great chat since Ken looked like our Rosie. He mentioned that most cyclists yell at him or tell him to get off the trail, which sadly did not surprise mw but disappointed me.

Later, I came across a lively group of teens, probably between 13 and 16 years old, riding their bikes along the trail with all the energy and unpredictability of youth. A group of seven stopped me, curious about my panniers and where I was headed. They were in awe. LOL

I thought that was it, but as I rode farther, I kept encountering more of them. By the time I reached Harpers Ferry, I counted about twenty kids total. Cycling to my B&B, I passed them for a final time loading their bikes into a trailer beside a school support van. They’d just finished a 50-mile ride,an impressive adventure and accomplishment. It was a wonderful sight to see young riders out there exploring and enjoying the freedom of a bike and living life to the fullest.

Near one of the locks and lockhouses, I came upon five artists set up with easels and canvases, each capturing the autumn scene from a different perspective. The setting was perfect, trees alive with fall color and the canal calm and reflective. Each creating a canvas unique to their view of the world that would live on.

These encounters reminded me that the trail truly belongs to everyone. Each person, Gardner and Ken, the kids, the artists, experienced it in their own way, yet we were all connected by the same peaceful, golden day. Sometimes the trail teaches you that your journey is uniquely yours, but it’s also shaped by the people and places you meet along the way.

Life Reflection

My takeaway from today’s ride is simple: it was a beautiful time, in a beautiful season, and a beautiful reminder of what it means to be alive. At 71, I feel deeply grateful to still have the health and freedom to climb on my bike and ride 63 miles. Everything about the day seemed to circle back to that one word — beauty.

It wasn’t just the scenery that made it special, but the people and the moments of connection along the way. The ones I mentioned are only a few of many spontaneous encounters that happen when you’re riding solo and not in a rush.

There’s a certain beauty at the speed of a bike, a pace that allows you to see, hear, and feel the world in ways that slip past when you’re in a car or caught up in daily life. That beauty lives in the quiet time to reflect, to notice, and to simply be present in the moment as the rhythm of the wheels move you forward.

Today’s Bit of Wisdom

Today reminded me of something I often share: a day on the bike is less about the start or the end. It’s more about everything that happens in between. Make no mistake, Georgetown and Harpers Ferry are beautiful places.

But the real story of the day was created as I rode the trail. It was shaped by the people I met, the changing colors of the season, and a deep gratitude for being able to enjoy this ride at this stage of my life.

The lesson I take from this is simple: slow down. Take the time to notice your surroundings. A ride experienced at a relaxed pace is far more rewarding than one measured only in speed, miles, or Strava stats.

Ride slowly, and let the beauty of the journey sink in.