There and Back Again . . . Comfortably

My friend George and I have been talking for years about riding the OTET (Ohio to Erie Trail.) Since talk wasn’t getting it done, we shifted gears and actually started pedaling. A few weeks ago, we knocked off eight miles on the southern tip of the trail, which follows the Ohio River in Cincinnati. 

That began our discussions about doing the entire 326 miles, maybe all in 2024. Our strategy would be to ride it twice. As we work our way north from Cincinnati, we’ll stage a car along the trail. From that point, we’ll ride half a day and then ride back to the car. We even talked of getting adventurous by loading gear on the bikes, riding all day, camping, and riding back to the car the following day.

Three weekends ago we cycled right into adventure mode with a two-day trip from Xenia to London. For now we’re leaving out the miles between Cincinnati and Xenia. Those will be easy miles for spur-of-the-moment trips.

I’d never been bikepacking, so it was a whole new thing from my previous backpacking expeditions. I spent the entire week before our London trip getting my bike ready and deciding what to haul along with me.

I told George this trip would be a big experiment. He agreed. He said number one, it would be an experiment on George. I guess it’s the same for me. My longest ride so far this year had been 16 miles. That was the round trip on the OTET from Lunken Park to the Reds stadium.

My bike seemed roadworthy enough. I hadn’t done anything to it since I bought it at a flea market a couple of years ago except install two new tires. 

I saw a guy biking with a big backpack once. I get sore riding distances with nothing at all on my back. Since this trip was planned relatively quickly, I jumped on YouTube to see what I could do to weigh down my bike and not me.

I need a lot of carrying capacity. For example, I just can’t sleep on an air mattress. Too much like a waterbed. When I car camp at East Fork, I use three or four layers of one-inch foam and it’s as good as a mattress. It would be nice room-wise just to take my little backpacking NeoAir, or the larger Coleman Slim Twin, but it’s no fun lying awake all night floating. I decided to take the stacked layers of foam. George calls them my Serta mattress.

There are other comforts of home that I just have to have. Like my full-size My Pillow. Being a former cat owner, I found two Tidy Cat litter containers in the garage. They looked roomy enough: The pillow fits right into one with a little room to boot. For now I decided to zip-tie the containers on my bike rack. In the future, I’ll come up with a way to easily pop them on and off.

Though I am a cat lover, something about Tidy Cat written all over the sides bothered me. I bought rolls of silver contact paper at a craft store and took care of that. That took me all of one afternoon.

I know I had lids to those things, but I couldn’t find them. Looks like I’ll need to do some curb-surfing on trash day. I wouldn’t have them for our London trip, but the weather channel promised there would be no rain. That was good because George said he would rust, and I just might melt.

The night before the trip, I got to looking at my bedroll again. To avoid the need to display an “Oversize Load” sign, I made another trip to Walmart. I took a chance on a $50 Coleman Montauk, 2 inches thick and 30 inches wide. It even has an extra layer of foam inside the inflatable pad.

I tried it that night in my living room. It wasn’t too bad at first, but it wasn’t quite there. So I added two “Serta” layers of foam to it. It doesn’t look quite as ominous on the back of my bike as the original roll did, and it sleeps nicely.

As the city of Xenia disappeared behind us the next morning, we experienced the forecasted wind gusts of 30 to 35 miles per hour. Luckily it pushed against our backs. Maybe I should’ve gone with the larger mattress. It could’ve acted as a sail. Oh wait, we would be riding back the next day against the same strong winds predicted.

I had to get used to a load on the back of my bike. It was never a problem for me as a kid. I’d ride my buddies on the back or even up on the handlebars and hardly ever wreck. However, ignoring the laws of physics doesn’t seem to make them go away like it used to.

My rear bike rack has a stated limit of 20 pounds. Hopefully that means 30. I must have had at least that much on it. When I dismounted at our first stop, only 10 miles in at Beans and Cream in Cedarville, both my bike and I fell to the ground, right in front of the door. I discovered that when I swing my leg over the seat like I usually do, I catch it on my mattress. Sir Isaac could have easily predicted the outcome.

A minute later, dozens of young adults came for their coffee and breakfast items. They must’ve just gotten out of class at the local college. By then I had myself and my bike upright again and my dignity partially restored.

After an Americano and blueberry lemon scone, we hit the bike path again. Eight miles later we rode into South Charleston. Not too early for a hot fudge sundae. (I’ll eat healthy when I get back home.) 

When we pulled into the Polar Bar, I saw three young guys who I guessed were city workers. While they waited in line at the window to order, they looked at my bike. They smiled as they talked to each other. I’d like to think they were impressed by my Tidy Cat buckets.

Now to impress them further with an Olympic-level dismount. I had practiced only a couple since we left Beans and Cream. I’m not sure what my score was when I climbed off the bike before my new audience, but at least both bike and rider stayed upright.

By the time we hopped back on the trail again, the wind definitely had our backs. One time I was sailing eight miles an hour without even peddling. Who needs an e-bike?

We had a pleasant surprise when we arrived at the Prairie Grass Trailhead in London. Under the shelter, there were free snacks and drinks for a special event going on at the park that day. Dave, the volunteer campground host, was very welcoming. He explained the few rules required for campers. One was to call the police station and give our information, just hometown and first names. It wasn’t to check up on us. Whew! Another reason to call was to get the code for the bathroom door, which was locked from 9:00 p.m. to 6:00 am.

The couple camping next to us had ridden 100 miles that day and they were going to continue 100 miles further the next. A few other families were camping. It was nice to see family bike trips.

I had brought along some dehydrated meals, as well as some other backpacking food. George and I took a good look at it. Then we rode into town and found a restaurant. Before going back to camp, we rode around a bit and admired the buildings.

I retired early. The mattress was wonderful, especially with My Pillow. I foresee a comfortable bikepacking future.

George got up early as usual and was armed with the bathroom code. He punched the numbers in and heard a click, but the door wouldn’t open. After a few more attempts he gave up. He called the police station again, and they gave him the same numbers. That’s when it hit him that the bathroom had been occupied. Whoever was in there probably thought someone was trying to break in.

We made coffee and oatmeal and were ready to ride at seven. I wasn’t surprised that the hundred-mile couple had not emerged from their tents.

When we left, the wind was stilI fairly calm. I could see on my phone, though, I that it would be picking up during the morning, with gusts up to 30 mph. Only this time we would be battling them. Well, at least it was slightly downhill back to Xenia.

On the way back we took some time to tour around the small town of South Charleston again. It was well worth it. It has some wonderful homes and other impressive buildings. A depot remains at the edge of town. A few train cars are permanently perched on a short stretch of tracks. 

For once, I was thankful for invasive honeysuckles and autumn olives. They helped block some of the wind when we returned to the trail. The open areas, however, slowed us down. And when the wind blew directly down the path, transforming it into a wind tunnel, I felt like I was pedaling on an exercise bike.

While we rested at a gazebo, we saw a fox enjoying a walk on the trail. He turned into the woods when he spotted us. As little traffic as there was that morning, though, he hadn’t had his walk interrupted too often.

On our ride, we saw plenty of birds. George was hoping to see a Bobolink, but it didn’t happen this trip. We saw plenty of industrious groundhogs, too. They dug out their holes near the paved trail along the former railroad bed, leaving piles of gravel at the top. 

I really didn’t expect the coffee shop in Cedarville to be open on Sunday morning. When it was, a part of me was glad, the part craving caffeine and pastries. But I also felt a tinge of disappointment, going back to the days when things closed down on Sunday.

The last 10 miles were the roughest because I was tired, but we were satisfied with our return time. We did the 30 miles, against the wind, in 4 1/2 hours. That’s counting a half-hour stop in Cedarville and the mini-tour of South Charleston.

I do need to get a mirror for the next trip. I used to be able to turn around to see who was behind me without veering off the trail. And maybe I need a cushier seat. No, not maybe, definitely.

Back in Xenia, I discovered a bungee cord wrapped up in my rear axle. That could have caused a very bad accident, but our trip was blessed with safety. And in the next few days, my body registered no major complaints.

I still plan on hiking as well as riding. But there’s something about ditching the backpack as well as passing the walkers. Seems like a fun new way to get there and back again.