Western PA (Day 10-11)

I took a full day off at the Super 8 at Clarion to let my muscles rest and let the rain storms pass through. I spent most of the day watching endless news stories about Michael Jackson's death.

The next day, I loaded up and hit the road again. First thing on the docket -- I had to go down a steep hill, cross the Clarion River and then go right back up another hill. Once on semi-level ground again, I celebrated with a much anticipated hot dog lunch. I found a strange, little hot dog "house" just outside of the town of Shippenville. Edward, the 83-year-old owner and operator, served me two soggy dogs and a heaping of right-wing propaganda. As he squirted mustard along the top ridge of my second warm dog, he proclaimed that the country "is in the wrong hands" and that "socialism is about to take over." After espousing several Limbaugh talking points, Edward admitted that he was, in fact, a "crank," but at least he's fulfilled one of his dreams -- i.e., owning his own hot dog stand. He said he used to be an exec at Philip Morris some years ago, but gave up the chance of being "filthy rich" by quitting his job and buying a modest hot dog business. "Now I'm just filthy," he told me, "and my wife can attest to that!"



Although politically, we were on different sides of the universe, we still shared a few chuckles and had a nice conversation. He even gave me a free hat before I departed and wished me well on my cycling journey.

From there, it was more hills and turns along the woodsy route 208 to the mini-town of Emlenton, PA. When I hit the town I suddenly remembered that this was the place on my 2001 walk where my suntan lotion mysteriously exploded in my bag and I had to backtrack to a gas station to buy a 12 dollar replacement. Ah, memories.



From there, it was up another steep mountainside with lots of twists and turns and a 2-inch shoulder along a very precarious, sheer drop into the Allegheny River. I got passed by loads motorcycles out broom-rooming for the day, as I sweated up the treacherous slope. As bad as it was, at least it wasn't raining on me.

25 miles later, I was in the sweet Grove City where I adjourned to my favorite, fun-filled eatery -- the Elephant & Castle Restaurant. Once seated at the bar, I had myself a pair of pints of Sam Adams Summer Ale and a hearty helping of their Shepherd's Pie that had a distinct meatloafy flavor to it. Around 8:30pm I decided to go out and find myself a place to camp for the night. I passed a Micrtotel Inn about a mile later and decided to call them up to what their rates were. The young man on the phone quoted me a rate of $79 plus tax... which was a bit more than I wanted to spend, so I pedaled on. THIS IS WHEN THINGS GET A BIT SCARY...



About a half mile down the road, I found a narrow, dirt path that wound and weaved into some nearby woods, which seemed well-hidden and quite secluded. After setting up my tent, darkness unfolded onto the land and I curled up into my sleeping bag ready to get some shut-eye. But, for some reason, I had this eerie sensation as I tried to fall asleep... which I just couldn't shake. Something just didn't feel right. Maybe it was the thin layer of fog that creeped along the forest floor or the howling dog some couple miles away, but I had a strange feeling like I was on the set of a "Blair Witch" sequel. However, I'm a rational person and I was able to convince myself that this spooky vibe was all in my head and soon drifted off to sleep.

Then, around 1am, I was awoken from my sleep by a loud BANG! I sat up, still a bit groggy and confused... then I heard the sound again. BANG! I wasn't sure if it was a shotgun or what, but it was definitely some sort of explosion. Then, I heard something that sent chills down my spine -- two men arguing. "What the fuck did you do???" one man desperately growled to the other.

Then another loud BANG echoed through the forest! Another voice answered back, "Shut the fuck up! You better... (garbled) ...or I'll... (garbled)!"

I was wide awake at this point. And I was freaked out. I don't know if I was delusional or being extremely paranoid, but I swore I just heard the sound of two men committing a murder. The two voices got fainter, but I could still hear the crazed desperation in their voices. My heart was racing at this point... as panic shot through my body like an arrow. What if they really did just kill someone? And what if they came stumbling upon my bright white tent that practically glowed in the dark? The sound of that last explosion kept repeating in my head. I could picture two Pennsylvanian hillbillies at the foot of my tent, leveling a shotgun and firing into my chest. I held my breath, diffidently listening for any ominous sound. All was quiet except for that same distant dog howling into the sky.

Even though I couldn't hear the two men any more, by that point, I couldn't calm myself down. Even if I was mistaken... even if there was no crime committed in those shadowy woods... I knew I would never be able to fall asleep. So, I quickly and quietly grabbed my small backpack (which carried all my essentials), put on my sneakers and crawled out of my tent. I lifted up my bike (which was detached from my trailer) and tiptoed down the path until it hit a service road. From there, I got back on my bike and pedaled down the road, onto the highway and back to the Microtel Inn... leaving my tent and trailer behind.

I walked in the hotel lobby and booked a room for the night. For some reason, the rate dropped to 59 bucks... which was ironic, because if I had been quoted 59 back when I called earlier I would have skipped the woods altogether and booked the room right then and there.