The Great City of Baltimore

October 12th:

Funnily enough, the traffic mostly dissipated after we left the diner around sunrise.

"That's odd," I said to Nicole.

We rode onwards into the city with much less traffic (although we did have to endure a hideous paper mache statue of some local politician mounted in the breakdown lane). As we got closer to Baltimore, I noticed my rear tire pressure was a little low. I was bobbing up and down like riding a full suspension mountain bike. That's not supposed to happen. I pulled over and quickly topped off the tire pressure. A few miles later, I was bobbing up and down again. I pulled into a Toys R Us parking lot (completely abandoned) and changed the tube. This time, I was careful when placing the quick release skewer back into place!

The new tube worked well, but I was a bit nervous. The hole was in a different spot than the screw from new Jersey, but I've already put 1,500 miles on that tire, and I know I'm pushing my luck. Since very few bike shops will carry such an obscure tire (Vitorria Rondonee sound familiar to anyone?) I resolve to get a Bontrager Hardcase tire from the next Trek dealer I see. It's a known quantity, and I'm in no mode to experiment.

As we ride into the city, I'm amazed by how little traffic there is. I expect to see thousands of commuter cars and delivery trucks from the likes of UPS, FedEx and other distributors specific to local merchants (food, flowers, etc), but Nicole and I constitute about half the traffic at any given intersection. Boarded up buildings surround us. Welcome to Baltimore.

A local bike shop is located between the northeast side and downtown. Unfortunately, because we left so early, it's hasn't opened by the time we arrive. It's 10 am, and we can either wait for an hour or ride onwards towards the next bike shop. As always, the answer is to keep riding.

It's a little bit tricky to navigate through Baltimore's revamped waterfront district to the next bike shop. The GPS is a little confused by the pedestrian only streets in the rebuilt outdoor mall area that once entail the city's seedy warehouse district. The turn-by-turn directions just turn us around in circles before I finally just ask someone how to get to Light Street. A good Samaritan tells us it's in the Federal Hill neighborhood. Great. Talking to a human being does what nearly $600 worth of technology cannot.

When we arrive at the bike shop, the owner can't contain her excitement when she sees that we've been touring.

"How did you get here?" she asks, her eyes lit up like a small child.

We tell her the horrors of the "bicycle lane" on the Pulaski highway.

"I knew it," she said. "The same guy has been the transportation commissioner for almost ten years and he does nothing!"

She also likes our story about the Edgewood "motel."

"Yeah, metal theft is a big problem around here," she says with a slight Southern drawl. "No wonder the owner of that hotel didn't want you staying there."

We roll our eyes--but only because we knows she's right. She also takes a look at Nicole's front derailleur cable. Just as I had suspected and feared, the cable is shot beyond belief. In sympathy to our pain and suffering, she gives us a new cable and installs it. We thank her for our service and head back towards the harbor to check out the city's revamped waterfront.

Up until about 15 years ago, downtown Baltimore was like, well, the rest of the city. Basically a symbol of decay. Highways had replaced cargo ships as a means of warehouses, and the once busy waterfront was nothing more than rat-infested empty buildings. Fortunately, some good people in government and private industry banded together and turned the locale into various malls. Although the cleanliness and commerce is a more appealing alternative, I was particularly interested in the floating museums the city had to offer.

15 stars and 15 stripes adorn the flag of this naval cutter. They even went so far as to greet us with cannon fire!

As we walked towards one of the city's permanently moored tall wooden ships, we were greeted by cannonfire from an early 1800s era vessel, complete with 15 star-and-striped flag to boot (history buffs will get the reference). Nicole snapped some photos, and I took a look around. I noticed that pretty much every flagpole in the harbor--whether on land or boat--had 15 stars and stripes. Hey, this city loves its history.

After a brief stop to each lunch, we checked out two of the city's floating museums: The U.S.S. Constellation and the Torsk. In each case, we found ourselves humbled by the immediate feeling of history as we walked onbard.

The Constellation is over 150 years old. A wooden ship constructed in 1853, the vessel served as anti-slave runner in the years leading up to and during the Civil War. Although most of the wood on the ship is restored, it has been done so to the ship's original specifications. And seeing the original wood on the ship does bring chills down one spine. It was within these very floorboards that the Constellation's crew captured slave running ships and returned the "cargo" back to their native west Africa.

Nicole's shark feels at home alongside the U.S.S. Torsk.

After walking through such a specter, the Torsk almost paled by comparison. It's a diesel-engined World War II submarine. The Torsk holds the distinction of being the last ship to sink an enemy vessel during the great conflict. From the dock, the size of the ship didn't look very impressive by comparison, but it proved a lesson that important things come in tiny packages. Inside, the ship could hold a crew of over 70 (just barely, you'd have to hold your breath). The many gadgets and knobs inside were a source of great fascination for Nicole and me.

Wake up sailor! Talk about tight quarters.

Perhaps we should have taken a boat to MD.

We haven't gone more than five or ten miles before Nicole's knee starts hurting. It's only a few miles before we can find a pharmacy that actually has ice packs, but it feels like an eternity. Once we get the the knee treated and we feel ready to go, it's almost dusk. We arrive at the campground with what should be just enough time before dusk. Should be.

At  the entrance, there is a fork in the road. There is a sign that points to headquarters in one direction and campground in the other. I assume I should check in at the headquarters. It's uphill, so Nicole wisely decides to wait this one out. I ride about half a mile to headquarters to find that the building has closed for the day. Not long after I arrive to men in a Maryland State Parks pickup truck drive by.

"You need to ride back to your friend," says a voice from the truck. "Check in is at the campground."

Oh, what little money the state of Maryland could have afforded to white lettering on that sign: Check-in, this way. That would have been nice. Oh well.

I ride back to Nicole and let her know that she was right. It's not to relieving as daylight is running out. We lose even more daylight once we check in. The poor guy doesn't know how to use a computer. Once we get there, it's basically dusk. Sigh.

Another long day, but Washington D.C. is within our sights . . .