Ohio-to-Erie Ride - Day 3

Mt. Vernon to Massillon - 10:10 am

As I had begun to suspect, late starts would be my norm for this tour. After packing a fresh change of clothes -- cycling & civvies -- a new hoard of energy bars was duly inserted into bike bags. A bike change meant transferring bags, maps and water bottles to my mountain bike and saying farewell to my trusty road steed that I packed into the support van. Throw in the obligatory breakfast with some good conversation around the large communal breakfast table and it was time to shove off.

The weather forecast predicted overcast skies with a 60% chance of rain. I felt comfortable with that. After all, if I got wet when rain wasn't in the forecast, then...

Clouds once again accompanied me when I headed out through residential neighborhoods on Mt. Vernon's east side. I made my way over to where a Kokosing Gap Trailhead waited patiently about 1 mile from the B & B. Just ride east on Gambier Street (Rt. 229), turn right on Liberty Street (you should see a trail sign here) and continue south a few blocks where the road enters Phillips Park. Continue straight along the park road until you reach the restroom building on your right. The trailhead lies opposite (south of) this break station.

I stopped briefly at the park to rearrange my load and grab an energy bar. B & B breakfasts are good, but you don't get the "super size" option. Now aboard my mountain bike I enjoyed a much sturdier platform. It would be necessary for the rougher terrain ahead. But with a slower average speed, I wondered how much more time I'd spend in the saddle over the next two days.

The Kokosing Trail lies just outside my backyard, so to speak. It's in a neighboring county and is most familiar to me. Sometimes that makes it difficult to find anything new or interesting, but on this visit that wasn't the case. The Kokosing had begun a 3-year resurfacing project that summer and this was my first opportunity to check it out.

Shortly after entering the trailhead at Phillips Park, I came to the road crossing at Mt. Vernon Avenue. Turn right (west) here and cross the bridge and you can ride 1/4 mile of new trail that rests atop the Kokosing River dike toward Rt. 13. This is the beginning of a connector that will eventually cross town and hook into an Ohio-to-Erie segment from the southwest.

I continued straight across Mt. Vernon Avenue, rejoined the new asphalt and contemplated my itinerary for the day: Kokosing Trail to Danville; Mohican Valley Trail to Brinkhaven; Holmes County Trail to Fredericksburg; road route over to Dalton; and finally, the Sippo Valley Trail east to Massillon and the Ohio & Erie Canal Towpath. The Holmes County Trail would prove to be the big challenge of the day. Much of it consisted of single or double track along a 29 mile stretch of largely undeveloped trail. A few areas were now under construction and due to this transition anything from washed out trail sections to closed construction zones were possible. But that would be further down the trail. For now I would enjoy the smooth asphalt and cruise along at a comfortable pace.

I found that stopping to take photos was a bit of a conundrum. Often when I was enjoying the ride or in familiar territory, I didn't think much about it. Likewise when the weather was threatening or I was focused on navigation. So it came as no surprise that I found big gaps in my photo log for this tour. In light of that, I've brazenly substituted some other images of the Kokosing Trail. My apologies if the sun is shining too brightly in some of them.

If you've ridden this bikeway, you know there are several river crossings as the trail and Kokosing River wind along together. The restored train at the Gambier break station is surely a highlight, along with the stone arched bridge (or tunnel, if you prefer) in Howard.

I cruised into the small college town of Gambier where the new asphalt section came to an end. Paving on to Howard is scheduled for 2005, with the remainder of the trail penciled in for '06. Here the main campus lies just to your left (north) as the trail skirts the campus grounds alongside the athletic fields.

After enjoying the new pavement on my easterly ride from Mt. Vernon, the trail now turned northeastward and deposited me back onto the old asphalt surface as I made my way toward Howard.

The asphalt was still good here, but as I neared trail's end in Danville the barren surface more clearly showed its age. No more seal coating here as resurfacing is planned.

At 14.5 miles into Day 3 I reached Danville. I followed the bike route signs over to Market Street (Rt. 62) where I purchased some gatorade and snacks at the drive thru across from the ice cream stand. Who in their right mind would pass up ice cream? Not I, I can assure you. For some reason the stand was closed, so I moved across the street to the park where there's a clean facility near the football field, next to the road. I stopped to top off my water bottles in preparation for the Mohican Valley Trail.

11:45 am

After a short break it was a quick jog over to the trailhead at East & North Streets, less than a mile from the Kokosing. There should be bike routes signs to guide you between the two trails. Here's a map that shows the route.

The Mohican Valley Trail marks the beginning of the primitive section of the Ohio-to-Erie. Not only is the trail surface less refined, it's more remote. There are virtually no trail facilities along this stretch. This trend continues once you transition to the Holmes County Trail and covers about 33.5 total miles. Needless to say, taking enough supplies (particularly water) and knowing the few locations where you can refuel are essential. Not totally unfamiliar with this route, I enjoyed the opportunity to utilize my mountain bike and headed onto the gravel/dirt trail.

The Mohican Trail is about 4.5 miles long and sets the tone for the next 30 + miles of Ohio-to-Erie Trail experience. It's a departure from paved bikeways, and in my case, a welcome one. The dirt and gravel surface had settled since the trail's construction providing a more forgiving ride. Originally intended to accommodate two trails in a side-by-side configuration, currently the trail is one wide, blended swath of earth and stone. The topography consists mostly of gradual climbs and descents, with the exception of one road crossing where the trail plunges down to street level only to abruptly send you back up again. It's safe to assume that a railroad bridge was in place here when trains once prowled this corridor.

The trail eventually ascends to a level ridge and makes its way toward the Mohican River near Brinkhaven. This is where the Mohican Valley Trail meets the Holmes County Trail soon after crossing the Bridge of Dreams. The covered bridge was constructed in cooperation with the local Amish community. It's very fitting since the intent was to allow pedestrian, bike and horse & buggy traffic along this corridor. The 370' long bridge is reported to be the longest covered bridge in Ohio and the second longest in the nation!

Riding by the trail parking lot just beyond the bridge, I noticed some updates and stopped to snap a quick photo. Previously only a latrine and rough parking lot resided here. Now a shelter, picnic tables and what looked like a well pump (don't know if it works!) have been added. My supplies still in good shape, I moved on.

I crossed a couple of creek bridges and the trail surface changed to double track marking the start of the Holmes County Trail. At the 19.7 mile mark for the day, I followed the trail as it bent alongside the embankment of Rt. 62 and dropped down a small hill. Previously a railroad tunnel allowed passage under the road, but the direct route no longer exists. I followed the access track as it opened up into tall grass and came to a driveway of sorts. I turned left here and crossed 62. I pedaled away from the road and soon picked up the trail and turned right. I continued on, the surface now cinders and earthen double track.

There are no signs to guide you along these undeveloped trail sections, so you need to have a decent grasp of the trail's path. It's not terribly difficult to find your way, but as the above directions illustrate, you need some idea of where to find the trail, as it's well hidden during the summer months. Also, some sections may be closed for construction. Signs may be posted in closed areas while others may have been removed from their posts. Be sure to visit the Holmes County web site if you have any questions.

The first leg of the Holmes County Trail to Glenmont was a nice ride. There is one treacherous area where you have to transition up a short, steep grade to reach street level, only to drop down into a cave-like stream bed on the opposite side. The result of another filled in rail tunnel, which is also the likely cause of water ponding on one side. This is not a good section for families, and casual cyclists may want to walk their bikes here to be safe. I was glad to see that the trail erosion close to Glenmont had been addressed since my last visit.

1:05 pm

Though my ride started 27.2 miles earlier that morning, my real odyssey began after I crossed Clinton Street in Glenmont. The double track soon left the rail corridor and moved down alongside it instead. Puzzled, I followed and came to a stream where an old railroad bridge hovered above me and to my left. Aha, the bridge must be impassable, hence the detour. I considered my quandary. The water wasn't very deep, but it was warm and humid so dunking the cycling shoes cyclo-cross style meant I'd be squishing along for miles to come. Luckily I carried a cheap pair of foam flip-flops strapped to the outside of my seat bag. So after a snack and a quick change, I forded the stream carrying my bike.

I felt pretty smug at this point and even snapped a shot of my waders.

After drying off and changing back into my cycling shoes, I ambled up the footpath to have a look at the bridge deck which prompted my detour. The rotted and missing timbers suggested I'd made the right choice.

This would not be the only bridge along the trail that was out of commission. I did tip toe over at least one of these dicey beasts while attempting to roll my bike alongside. It's highly recommended that you do not try this at home or on the trail.

The rest of this leg to Killbuck does not elicit fond memories. Interesting, maybe. Fond, no. My smugness would soon be replaced with trepidation, angst and disgust. The lack of visible rail bed or single track was my first clue for trouble ahead. Not even 4-wheelers ventured where I now rode my bike. Light weeds turned to tall, dense vegetation that churned through and choked my drive train. I stopped periodically to clear the mess, have a drink and question my sanity.

I should add here that I understood that major construction was slated for the trail around the time of my ride. I was hoping to see it in progress. Either I misunderstood where the construction was taking place, or I naively hoped I would ride into it at any moment. As luck would decide, the construction was further north and did not start until after I'd completed my ride.

I moved along at a ridiculously slow pace. At one point I came to a property owner's fence that had been placed across the trail and topped with barbed wire. Not wanting to debate the issue of trail ownership, I took to a nearby road by scooting across someone's private access lane. Needless to say I was on the lookout for big dogs and the glint of a gun barrel. Someone here did not like trails and would likely have less use for trail users. I reached the road (Rt. 520) without incident and headed eastward to the next trail crossing and dove back into the weeds.

The thick vegetation created several problems. The one I feared most was that it concealed a sink hole or some other dastardly surprise. As slowly as I was moving one would think that wasn't a real threat. But I could no longer see the ground, so visualizing rolling off a hidden cliff in slow motion didn't help matters.

I pressed on as the humidity (it's a jungle in here!) took the stage in Act II of my pathetic play. The absurdity and discomfort was building as I pushed into an area of incredibly tall stalks that were now all around me. I stopped to have a look at my strange circumstance and took this photo.

It's hard to get a proper perspective from the pic, but the wild daisies were about 6' high and called for the ole hold-camera-over-head trick to manage this shot. The flourishing plants seemed happy to make the rail bed their linear home. I did break a smile at this point. Riding here was so ridiculous, I couldn't help it. I continued on (yes, you really can ride through that stuff) and resolved to get out of the botanical gardens at the next road crossing which soon presented itself. The only problem was the trail didn't connect with the road. I stood a few feet from where it disappeared into a swamp, gazing at the road a scant 15-20 yards away. Hmmm. Hey boys and girls, can you say ADVENTURE?

I regret not getting any pictures of this fine moment, but alas, I was not a happy camper at the time. I mulled over my options as the sun peeked out to add some more sweat to the party. I couldn't see through the murky water to tell how deep it was. And I couldn't remember how far back the last road crossing had been or how long it would take me to retrace those steps. Who's smug now, ay buddy? Lesson # 9: Don't get too cocky. Still unsure of how to proceed, I started walking my bike back up the launch ramp. Frustration had been building as I had spent considerable time thrashing along, making little progress and most importantly -- not having fun! It all came to a head when I glanced to my right and saw what I thought was shallow water in swampland. Without a second thought I hoisted my bike to my shoulder and launched myself into the quagmire. The first few jumps landed shallow, but as I turned to move back toward the road I sunk deeper and envisioned losing a cycling shoe, or worse yet, finding one of those damned sink holes. I made the edge of the road before the water reached my knees and breathed the biggest sigh of relief of the entire tour. Squishy shoes or not, I was more than happy to be back on firm, dry road and delivered from my adventure. I ignored the overgrown trail that taunted me from the opposite side and elected to pass on this section of the Ohio-to-Erie Trail experience. As I gathered myself and rode away I had the strangest sensation. I couldn't be sure but it seemed that... no, it couldn't be... but yes, that was definitely the feeling... the trail was snickering at me.

2:50 pm

The Glenmont to Killbuck leg is listed on the trail's web site as 3.85 miles long, but it's closer to 6.85. On my escapade I managed to make it even longer. I rolled into Killbuck having covered only 35.3 miles on the day and a measly 8 miles in the last 1 3/4 hours since Glenmont. It was time for another attitude adjustment as I turned into a filling station in town.

The small building offered only two pumps and looked deserted. I dismounted and spotted the 'closed' sign on the door when a pickup pulled up to one of the pumps. A man got out and started filling his tank while I, still dazed from recent events, looked around to see what might be open along this tiny stretch of Main Street. There followed a kind of small town discourse that I'd only read about.

"Is there some place I can get water around here?" I asked.
"Just down the street, the store on the other side there."
"Oh, ok. Uh, if this place is closed how are you able to pump gas?"
"Regular customers get a key."
"I see. Could you tell me where the Holmes County Trailhead is here in Killbuck?"
"The trail's closed here."
"Really? According to their web site it's open over to..."
"I said the trail is closed."

With attitude adjustment now complete, I headed down the street convinced I'd just met the man who owned the barbed wire fence. Lesson #10: Locals are friendly... generally... when they're not constipated or have some other obstruction.

I purchased some sugary snacks and energy drinks at the local store. The smiling clerk kindly allowed me to refill my water bottles at her store sink. I downed a couple of candy bars, filled pockets with more eats, mounted my bike and rode north on Main Street in search of the old yellow depot building that marks the trailhead.

Instinctively I made my way over to the intersection of Elm and Main. I should mention that my map substituted Water Street for Main here. I believe it becomes Water Street at some point where it leaves town heading northeast.

To make sure I was being a good citizen, I looked for any indication that the trail was in fact closed, while at the same time scouting for a suspiciously familiar pickup truck parked nearby. Seeing no signs of either, I continued on my journey.

The next leg from Killbuck to Millersburg gave me a chance to get back into a groove and start making some time. I wasn't halfway to my destination for the night and already 5 hours had elapsed. Not good. I picked up the pace, being careful not to redline or go full throttle. I would need plenty of energy for the miles ahead.

I passed a few folks on the trail, something I'd hadn't done since the Kokosing Trail. The trail grew rougher along sections with larger gravel, but I didn't take the time to stop and let some air out of my tires. That proved to be a mistake as bike bags as well as my bones would bounce sharply along from time to time.

Thankfully I encountered nothing out of the ordinary on this stretch aside from an obstruction where a tree had fallen. A well-worn path moved over and around the impediment. I found it odd that no one had bothered to clear it (sorry, I wasn't packing a chain saw) and wondered if horse & buggy were welcome here.

3:30 pm

Compared to the mess I had ridden through prior to Killbuck, this section was a piece of cake and I soon reached Millersburg and pulled into the Wal-mart parking lot. The trail connects directly with the lot, a nice touch for both cyclists and buggy drivers alike. I rolled over to a nearby fast food restaurant (within the parking facility!) to have a late lunch.

4:00 pm

A hot meal topped off with ice cream provided the lift I sorely needed and the kind of attitude adjustment I couldn't manage on my own. I rolled back onto the trail at the 40 mile mark and turned right to ride north.

You see a few trail users on this stretch along with the occasional horse & buggy. Trail construction is most evident by the Wal-mart where large amounts of fill were brought in to elevate the trail. A short segment in Millersburg requires a straight ride across a large gravel parking area until the trail picks up again.

Further north the trail begins a journey through part of a large wetland. One local recounted a tale of a pilot of a small aircraft radioing that he was confused about his location since he could see that he was flying over a lake. That "lake" turned out to be the wetland. I've never been able to manage a photo that gives a sense of the size of the place. Perhaps aerial photos are the only way to do it justice. But I do have this pic that captures the rural charm of the Holmes County Trail.

Nearing the Rt. 83 crossing south of Holmesville, I reached the 1/2 mile stretch of asphalt that appears out of nowhere. The now familiar rental bikes lay dead ahead where the transition up to road level gives you the opportunity to utilize restroom facilities and food before riding back down to the trail on the other side. This transition courtesy of yet another filled in railroad tunnel.

The trail ended at Benton Street in Holmesville. I followed this map to navigate over to the trail entrance on Jackson Street where I continued traveling northeast. Tall weeds again appeared on the corridor causing instant flashbacks to events earlier in the day, so reluctantly I pulled off the trail when it crossed Rt. 192. I had no choice really. Time was not on my side at this point.

Good fortune did manage to smile on me in that each time I abandoned a section of the Holmes County Trail I landed on a road that happened to parallel it. Earlier it was Rt. 520 en route to Killbuck. This time Rt. 192 came to my rescue and escorted me into Fredericksburg.

5:15 pm

I entered the small village and took a break on a bench along the main drag, Mill Street. "Drag" may seem an inappropriate term, but if you've seen the Amish horse & buggies dashing down the Mill Street hill into town, you'd understand. The hill had enough pitch to look like a wall from where I sat. I couldn't fathom how the horses kept the weight of the buggy from sweeping them away like wide-eyed Max stuck to the front of the Grinch's sleigh. Maybe that's why they ran so fast.

Still only 51 miles into Day 3's ride, I had more challenges ahead. This was where the only real climbing of the tour began as I had to work my way up and down through a number of successive small valleys. Much of the next 17 fun-filled miles would be blunted saw teeth until I reached the next trailhead. I would've loved to have traded my fat-tired machine for a couch at this point. Fortunately, not many of the hills looked like the one on Mill Street.

My route along this span was provided by a local roadie who was familiar with the area so I was caught off guard when the road names he'd given me didn't match well with my maps. Rider debility, no doubt, was also a factor as I stopped repeatedly only to confuse myself further. Later I determined that my map was woefully inadequate as it primarily listed township or county road numbers that did not match well with the numbers on the road signs. I eventually found my way over to Arnold Road and into Dalton, but I'd recommend sticking more closely to the route I was given:

Starting at the 4-way stop in Fredericksburg, turn right (east) on Harrison Road up the big hill. When you come to the small town of Mayesville, turn left (north) on Fountain Nook Road. Go to the first crossroad and turn right (east) on Moreland Road. Go about a mile or so, then turn left (north) on Kansas Road. Cross US 250, cross Hackett Road then go right (east) on Arnold. Take it to Kidron Road where it makes a short jog left and then right again on Arnold. Follow it until it dead ends onto St. Rt. 94. Here turn left (north) on 94, cross US 30 and continue straight until Main Street where you turn right to get to the trailhead.

As the day wound down the sun decided to poke out from time to time to check my progress. At least no rain was added to my workload on this day. I huffed & puffed, then coasted, then huffed & puffed -- checked my maps-- then coasted some more until I finally managed to make my way further northeast to Dalton.

I rode in on Rt. 94, also known as Mill Street, crossed the old Lincoln Highway and turned right (east) on Main Street. A slight downhill and right turn into Village Green Park across from Freet Street and there followed a short trail section over to the park's break station where the Sippo Valley Trail begins.

6:50 pm

I took a much needed break at the park and guzzled water unashamedly. At the 68.4 mile mark I was now in the home stretch. Little more than 10 miles remained on this day and those would be spent on flat, well-groomed trails -- whew! That alone inspired me when I headed out of the park, crossed Main and glided along Freet Street on the Sippo Valley Trail.

Again in familiar territory, I breezed along the winding turns that whisk you out of town, directing you due east. The trail starts with an asphalt surface with meandering horse trails on one flank and a creek opposite.

Realizing I would make my destination before dark, I was confident as I rolled along. Yet, I had been in the saddle far too long and my mind, body, and soul knew it. The trail turned to smooth, crushed stone as I carried on.

It was somewhere along this section that my body revolted and launched into a standing sprint accompanied by me yelling at the top of my lungs as I sailed down the empty corridor. The sprint carried on maybe 1/8 mile, purging my soul of the day's long struggle. In that brief moment I was a kid again. It truly had been an epic day.

All the Sippo photos here are from an earlier visit as I had no intention of making any unnecessary stops. The last few miles I was a robot on a bike, simply going through the motions of completing my task. I passed Bottoms Park in Massillon, turned right onto 6th Street NW and rode up to Lincoln Way West (Rt. 172). Without crossing the street I turned left on Lincoln and rode the sidewalk on the left side of the road. After crossing the bridge and approaching West Third Street, I turned left onto the access ramp that joins the sidewalk. The ramp dumped me northbound on the Ohio & Erie Canal Towpath Trail. It would be the final trail on this cross state tour.

7:40 pm

I arrived at the Lake Avenue Trailhead a mile later. A quick call to my brother who I was staying with that night -- no more riding for me on this day -- and it was time to get some dinner and start relaxing.

I had expected a challenging day knowing I would be exploring unfamiliar territories along the Holmes County Trail. Add to that the most climbing on this tour and you had something far removed from a long, flat trail ride. But my preconceptions could never measure up to what actually transpired on this day. I learned Lesson # 11: Bicycle touring should not be confused with sedate activities.

Day 3 Stats:

Total Miles = 79.7   Trail Miles= ~52.1   Road Miles= ~27.6
Saddle Time = ~7:15:00 (estimated)
Start: 10:10 am Gambier Street in Mt. Vernon
Finish: 7:40 pm Lake Avenue & Rt. 21 in Massillon
Ohio-to-Erie Miles = 260.25