The Awakening Washington, DC Day 1 - Monday - June 3, 2002  Back   |   Next

We begin our journey in West Potomac Park, Washington DC at "The Awakening."       It is as if a bronze titan was buried alive and has finally managed to dig himself out of a shallow grave. Here, after dipping my rear wheel in the Potomac, I bid farewell to my parents. I am nervous, yet anxious to begin.              It is a smooth ride through the Mall along the Potomac. I pass by joggers and bikers alike. Kayakers paddle along the river. The afternoon sun shines upon the glossy brown river. Cherry blossom petals float in the breeze. The Victorian spires of Georgetown rise ahead above the maze of access ramps and highways. We travel northwest on the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal Towpath. The canal follows the course of the Potomac. I encounter many joggers and bikers. The canal is brown as the Congo River but still as opposed to the Potomac, which I catch glimpses of every once in while when the forest breaks up. Remnants of an ancient civilization, rusted rows of cast steel from the old railways, lock machinery, white bricked lock keeper houses, and the hard dirt packed trail are the only reminders I have that man was here before me. After two hours of easy riding I come to a sign that warns bikers that rocks ahead will force them to carry their bikes. This is an area I imagine that the trail makers found to be just too rocky to tackle and said well, will just let the travelers wing it on this stretch. There was no trail. It just petered out into a rugged ankle breaker of boulders and crags. I quick-released my trailer and shouldered my bike. For a windy half-mile stretch I had to bring my bike forward a ways, then come back and heave the trailer past the bike. I did this for a good half an hour. It was quite laborious. At times I envied the recreational mountain bikers who nimbly shouldered their bikes and hopped across the rocks and continued on their way. I am drenched in sweat by the time this rocky portage is over. The sun is making its descent and I stop at Great Falls Tavern. No, I didn't stop for a beer. Though I do have a craving for root beer. The place is boarded up. As I refill my water bottles a woman greets me, seeing my flags. "Is that where you're from?" Her name is Louise and she tells about a book she is reading, something about ancient Yogi masters and their belief that it's totally cool to eat meat. She has been working in hospitals for over twenty years and she has a passion for health and dietary issues. There are fewer and fewer travelers now. It's around 7:10 PM and I figure most people are at home reading a good book or watching TV. Its dark out as the flood plain forest keeps out the setting sun's last rays. The canal is idyllic with close-cropped grass and patches of web pitched up like pavilions. It reminds me of the canals of Cambridge and Oxford in England.     Views from a bridge overlooking the Great Falls area of the Potomac I make camp along the river's edge near Seneca Rock Quarry. For dinner I have spiced tuna and trail mix (dried banana chips, nuts, raisins, cranberries, dates, figs, and sunflower seeds) and I guzzle down a liter of cold water. I fall asleep rocking in my hammocks to the chaotic symphony of nightbirds, cricket clicks, frog croaks, Dulles Airport planes soaring with headlights blazing dots across the night sky, and lightning bugs glimmering in dark woods.