On the Road Again

 

Friday, April 20, 2012 – Back On the Road Again

Elliott, Sylvester (his walker), and I are on our way to Pittsburgh.  Our double decker Megabus rolls out of Washington’s Union Station right on time.  Our cheery driver, Stacy, welcoms us aboard and announces that we’ll be making a rest stop about half way through the trip as well as a stop to drop off passengers in Morgantown, West Virginia.  So we’ll be making a tri-state trip (Maryland, West Virginia, and Pennsylvania) through unfamiliar territory. 

One benefit of traveling with Elliott (and Sylvester) is the extra consideration we get.  As soon as he showed up, pushing his walker, we immediately went to the head of the line for boarding the bus.  But in addition to such advantages, it’s fun having Elliott as a traveling companion.  As the bus drives through the H Street Corridor in Northeast DC, he marvels at the signs of revitalization.  There’s a real mixture of businesses, with hair-braiding salons, thrift shops, and convenience stores interspersed with coffee bars, wine bars and ethnic restaurants.  The Atlas Theatre draws patrons from across the area to its avant-garde experimental productions.  Elliott remembers the area from his childhood.  When the bus turns onto Bladensburg Road at 15^th Street, he recalls catching the train at that intersection for the ride out to Chesapeake Beach.  Sometimes, in the years right after World War I, he would even walk there from his home in Southeast DC. 

Then we turn onto New York Avenue, heading out of the city.  Elliott recognizes more landmarks, such as the National Arboretum.  Next, we’re on the Baltimore-Washington Parkway, surrounded by a splendid green curtain of foliage.  But within minutes, we exit onto the infamous Beltway/95-North.  No more pleasant scenery for a while. 

It’s 10:30, and time to break out the snacks.  The coffee we picked up in Union Station didn’t satisfy me for very long.  Or maybe it’s just that traveling brings out my appetite.  In any case, we’re well-supplied.  I dip some crudités into hummus.  For Elliott, I brought along some gjetøst (Norwegian goat cheese) and crackers.  I nibble a crumb of the caramely cheese.  It’s definitely an acquired taste, one which I’ve slowly been developing over the past 28 years. 

Soon we’re heading north on 270 in Maryland (my first time every on this highway).  The names of the roads are familiar, however, from traffic reports.  By 11:00, we’ve left the suburbs behind for expansive vistas of rolling hills.  Puffs of cottony clouds temper the sunlight streaming in through the windows.  It’s perfect weather for travel.  Of course, the forecast for the weekend is for a big drop in temperature and a good chance or rain.  Even the possibility of dreary days doesn’t dampen our enthusiasm.  We’re passing newly planted fields, and green pastures dotted with grazing black and white cows. 

Signs show turn-offs to Hagerstown and Frederick.  Maybe another time we’ll return to explore the charms of historic Frederick, Maryland, but not today.  Sharpsburg is another name I recognize from my studies of Civil War history. We continue making our way through western Maryland.  Now we’re on 68W, and around noontime, we pass through Sideling Hill, a deep gash cut through the mountains.  Our ears are popping as we climb further up on these mountain roads, full of dips and curves.  Occasional farmhouses dot the hillsides.  We’ve been on the bus a little over two hours, and my body is screaming to get up and move around.  This is just about my limit for sitting still.  I really should sign up for a hiking or walking or biking trip one of these days. 

At 12:30, we’re in the vicinity of Cumberland, Maryland.  I wonder if we’ll be driving through the Cumberland Gap that the pioneers used on their journey west over the mountains in the 1700s.  It seems, however, that more modern roads have taken its place.  We must be gaining altitude.  My ears are popping again.  The nearby hillsides are cloaked in subtle shades of green, but the hills in the distance (Alleghany Mountains?) are a dusty blue-gray.  Even the flowering trees are muted, with a sprinkling creamy white or faded purple blossoms.  The brightest note of color comes from clusters of yellow wildflowers that spring up among the rocks.

We pass a restaurant along the road just outside Cumberland.  It’s called Puccini’s.  The name brings to mind a mouth-watering image of steaming bowls of pasta with red sauce.  My stomach begs for a taste, but alas, we don’t stop.  From the road, I can see Cumberland’s church spires (I count at least five), several old brick and stone buildings, and a crowded street of frame houses.  My curiosity about the history of the town is piqued. 

A minute or so later, tiny Cumberland is behind us and we’re out in the countryside again.  A strange sign alongside three wooden crosses proclaims Noah’s Ark is Being Rebuilt Here.  So far, only a barest framework of an ark-like structure is apparent.  At least there’s no flood in the immediate forecast.  The road seems to be leveling out. We’re up in the area of Frostburg, another university town, in Garrett County.  At this higher elevation, the trees are still bare and skeletal.  It could easily be winter.   

Occasionally, a farm house appears, along with a red barn and a silver silo, and a few auburn horses and black cows.  It looks idyllic, but who would want to live out here, so far from everything?  We discuss this until I notice a billboard for the Hen House Restaurant.  I could sure go for an omelette right now! 

Just before 1:00 p.m., I learn another interesting fact as we traverse the wilderness:  there’s an Eastern Continental Divide in the United States, at 2610 feet.  Who knew?  Nothing dramatic happens as we cross it.  But now that we’ve reached the mid-point of our trip, it’s time for the official rest stop.  We pull off the road in “nowheresville” – I’m not even sure what state we’re currently in.  As I expected, dining options are limited.  There’s a mini-mart at the gas station and an adjacent Arby’s.  Elliott doesn’t mind an occasional fast-food meal, and he’s happy with a roast beef sandwich, a Pepsi, and 2 candy bars.  It’s a good excuse to get a Milky Way and a Baby Ruth.  I’m flexible about my diet when I travel, so I can supplement a salad from Arby’s with the almonds and raisins I brought along.  Only three hours to go!

We cross the border into West Virginia with no fanfare around 1:45 in the afternoon. We’re still in an area of isolated farms, but there’s a fair amount of traffic, mostly large trucks.  Big signs warn trucks to stop and get their brakes tested as the road descends at a fairly steep grade.  We even notice a series of runaway truck pull-off ramps – not a reassuring sign as our bus rumbles along.  Elliott distracts himself by pulling out his Swiss Army knife and cutting off a chunk of his Baby Ruth bar. 

As we near Morgantown (home of West Virginia University), signs of civilization appear:  Lowe’s, Outback Steakhouse, Pier 1.  The bus exits the highway and we get a mini-tour of the town.  On a positive note, there’s an Indian restaurant called Saffron.  On the other hand, it’s right next to a club advertising nude dancers.  If Morgantown has an historic area, they’ve kept it well-hidden.  All of the architecture, including the university buildings, was nondescript modernist.   The bus makes a brief stop on campus to discharge passengers.  For me, it’s a welcome opportunity to stretch my legs again.  On the way back to the highway, I catch a glimpse of several signs for candidates in upcoming local elections.  I can’t help laughing when I see that one of the candidates is named “Holepit.”   Does that tell you something about Morgantown? 

Well, enough of Morgantown.  It’s 3:00 p.m., and we’re back on 79N in the direction of Pittsburgh.  It’s starting to look more settled and it feels like we’re closer to sea level.  I see Pennsylvania license plates on a lot of the cars.  Elliott wakes from a brief nap, and bursts out in song (“Coming Down the Mountain”) for a few seconds before I hush him.  I’m excited, too, that we’re almost at our destination.  I’ve always harbored some curiosity about Pittsburgh, despite the negative reputation it has in certain circles.  For the past five or six years, I taught my ESOL students about the growth of the steel industry and Andrew Carnegie.  I’ve seen the grainy black and white photos of steel mills belching smoke.  Soon I’ll see it for myself.  The Pittsburgh exits are appearing, the early rush-hour traffic is picking up, and we’re headed into a tunnel.  When we come out into the daylight again, I see the river, the bridges, and an impressive skyline.  We’re arrived.