June  8-11

I had a sense something was different soon after I turned onto the North Coast Inland Trail just west of Elmore, Ohio.

It's not unusual for people on bike trails to wish each other a "Good morning!" when they pass. But the first two ladies I came upon, who were walking, actually looked pleased to see me as we exchanged salutations. 

Then, as I rode maybe a half-mile farther, a group of seven or eight cyclists about my age were riding toward me in a bunch, taking up most of the trail. I slowed a bit to prepare to squeeze through them. Just then they saw me coming and quickly maneuvered into a single-file line. The lead rider had a big smile on his face.

"Where you coming from?" he yelled as I got nearer.

"L.A.!" I responded as I whizzed by.

I heard him repeat "L.A.!" and a few others in the line echoed it. "L.A.?" "L.A.!"

An older man walking toward me a little ways farther must have heard the exchange. He bent into a little crouch to watch me go by and shouted, "And where you going to?" 

"Massachusetts!"

"Safe travels!" he shouted.

"Thank you!" I shouted back over my shoulder, and waved as I rode on.

I had a feeling these people had done this before!

Quite a few people were using the trail on that morning, June 9.  They all seemed to be aware that this guy with the bags on his bike was a cross-country cyclist, and they enjoyed seeing me. As I continued on, more people kept calling out "Good Morning!" before I could. It felt like they were cheering me on.

Community support for this section of trail was evident on the benches dotted along the way. Each was engraved with the name of an individual, family, business or civic organization that had donated money to help develop and maintain the trail.

When I got into Elmore, I stopped at a gas-station convenience store located right along the trail. When I went to pay for my items, the lady behind the counter got right to the point. "Where you coming from and where you headed?" she asked without any expression.  I don't remember if she responded with anything when I told her, but she didn't say much. She just took it in.

I then shared my experience with the folks on the trail.

"We get quite a few [cross-country] cyclists like yourself coming through here," she said. "It's been good for the town."

In fact, the description of this section of trail that is on my app from the Rails-to-Trails Conservancy mentions that Elmore and the nearby town of Lindsey enthusiastically embraced developing the trail, which follows an old railroad bed. 

Back on my bike, a few minutes later, I neared Lindsey. Up ahead, still quite some distance away, I could see a 30-something guy on a Razor scooter suddenly stop and focus on me. I could tell he was leaving enough time for this exchange, as I rode by:

"Where'd you start?" 

"Los Angeles!" 

"And where to?"

"Massachusetts!" 

"Have a great trip!" 

I had a feeling he had done this before!

Those exchanges had me floating for miles. What prompted those good people to interact with me — a guy geeked out in cycling gear, who came and went in a few seconds? Whatever their motivation, their welcoming spirit will be one of the things I remember most about this trip.

I'll also remember Renee and Gary Breymaier. I met them the day before, June 8, on the Wabash Cannonball Trail between the towns of Delta and Monclova, during my ride from Indiana to Perrysburg, south of Toledo.

Earlier that day I had seen a couple of signs for the Wabash Cannonball Trail. One marked a narrow, cinder path; the other just a swath of grass that led into a forested area. 

Later, about 60 miles into that day's ride, I saw a much bigger sign, and this time the trail was this wonderful ribbon of asphalt that started by crossing a covered bridge.

I was excited. I quickly got into a rhythm. Still, I kept wondering how long the asphalt would last before it turned back into cinders, gravel or grass (I was still thinking about those canal towpaths in Illinois). 

Just then I heard "On your left!" and a couple on a tandem cruised past me. Their bike was painted in Ohio State colors with Buckeye stickers (like the ones the football players have on their helmets) across the top tube. I figured maybe I could get a scouting report from them, so I accelerated to catch up. I pedaled up alongside them and asked if the remainder of the 20-mile trail was paved. They assured me it was.

Renee and Gary, retired Ohio State grads, were curious about what I was doing and we struck up a conversation. I let them know right away that my daughter graduated from the University of Michigan (Ohio State's biggest rival), to see if that would kick off some friendly trash talk. But Gary just responded, "That's OK. It's a good school." As we talked and rode together, Gary occasionally called out upcoming bumps and cracks. He knew the trail's every detail. He and Renee also told me about how their local parks districts had built the trail, and the challenges involved with maintaining it.

We eventually came to a T intersection at the end of the trail. They were turning left toward Monclova, where they live, and I was turning right toward Perrysburg, where I was spending the night. But before we split up they gave me perfect directions to my hotel, which was a good thing because the route got a little complicated. (Renee also said she wanted to read my journal, so we exchanged email addresses and I sent her the link.)

Except for those memorable interactions I had on the trails, my four days crossing Ohio were mostly about covering the miles. And it was a great experience. In the countryside, most of the roads with heavier traffic — a few stretches of U.S. highways but mostly state routes — had good pavement and shoulders. I also was able to use quiet, county roads that, for the most part, were well maintained. I never saw a gravel road the entire time, although I'm sure they're out there.

I also appreciated the flat terrain. There were quite a few hills, especially on the backroads, but in comparison to what I experienced in the Southwest, they were short and relatively easy challenges. I finished each day pretty close to the time I anticipated. 

Various cycling groups, nonprofits and governmental agencies are continuing to work on making it possible to cross Ohio entirely on bike paths and protected routes. They've done an impressive job, although I did run into a gap that showed some of the work yet to be done.

After that particularly friendly and nicely paved 28-mile stretch of the North Coast Inland Trail, which ran through Ottawa and Sandusky counties, the trail turned into crushed limestone and grass for 27 miles in Huron County (some of which I avoided, opting for roads). 

Huron County had signs touting its involvement in developing the North Coast Inland Trail, but it obviously has some work to do to get its section up to the quality seen in its neighboring counties.

As soon as I left Huron County and entered Lorain County, the trail returned to smooth asphalt for 19 miles. 

I never found a trail with as many welcoming people as on that morning near Elmore and Lindsey.

For example, around Oberlin (home of Oberlin College) the trail was quite nice and a lot of people were using it. However, very few people looked up from their walking, jogging or cycling when I passed — which is closer to normal. I tried several "Good mornings" but got few responses. 

On Friday, June 10, the ride into Cleveland was pretty crazy. From the suburbs to downtown, I had to ride in heavy traffic on a lot of streets and roads with cracked pavement and potholes along their edges, which at times forced me out into traffic lanes. Motorists were mostly patient and gave me room, but it was stressful.

I had something else going on too.

I didn't feel right on the ride from Norwalk to Cleveland. When I got into my hotel room that night, it became apparent what was going on. I had a urinary tract infection, or UTI. (If you read one of my earlier posts from New Mexico, you know that, because of my multiple sclerosis, I'm prone to getting UTIs.) I phoned the on-call service for my medical provider and got a prescription for an antibiotic sent to a pharmacy near my hotel.  The pharmacy didn't open until 10 a.m. the next day, Saturday. But everything went smoothly. In the morning I rode the half-mile to the CVS, walked my bike through the store, leaned it against the pharmacy counter, got my pills, downed the first of two a day for seven days, and headed back out.

I felt a little weak from the infection at the start, but the antibiotics kicked in and I was feeling better by the end of the day.

(I also did a bone-headed thing. I was so consumed with dealing with my UTI that I tossed that day's stinky cycling clothes into a drawer in my hotel room, because they seemed to be smelling up the room more than usual.  At the time, I thought it might be a mistake, but I always check the drawers before leaving, even if I haven't used them. Well, on Saturday morning I was in a hurry to get to the pharmacy and forgot to check the drawers. I didn't realize the clothes were missing until Sunday morning. I called the hotel but the housekeeping staff said they didn't find them. So, I lost my Route 66 cycling jersey, nice bike shorts and socks. I still have two days of outfits, however, so I'll be OK. I'll just have to do laundry more often.) [UPDATE 8/12/22: The hotel found my clothes. The guests who had the room after me put them in a lost-and-found bin.]

The ride out of Cleveland to my overnight town of Conneaut — located a few miles from the state line with Pennsylvania — started with promise. I got on the Cleveland Lakefront Bikeway near the downtown. It ran along the waterfront with dedicated bike paths and lanes, went past a marina and rounded a cove with a nice view of the lake. But it soon deteriorated into using sidewalks and eventually went onto city streets, following the same route as the Lake Erie Coastal Ohio Trail, a route for cars.

Near the end of the day, I still got my trail fix. At Austinsburg I got on the Western Reserve Greenway and rode it seven miles to Ashtabula. It was a satisfying way to cap off a fulfilling ride across the Buckeye State.

Here are the maps of my route across Ohio:

Contact me: Thoughts or comments? Email me at richardridesusa@gmail.com.

I ride with MS: Support the spirit of my ride with a donation to the Multiple Sclerosis Association of America. Click here.

If you are interested in following me live: https://share.garmin.com/findrich