A 320-mile Allegheny journey Into Self-Knowledge
By Fabian Badges
Hundreds of cultures around the world have a coming-of-age ceremony: during the summer I turned 18, I made my own. It would be my seven-day, 320-mile trip that I took from Boston, Pa., to Washington, D.C.
The trail was easy to follow. It was one meandering line (save for a short detour). I took a Hard Rock bicycle with two saddlebags on the back filled with basic necessities: food, hygienic material, clothing, and a phone for emergencies. I had to keep in mind while packing that whatever I took, I’d carry the entire distance. This was an encumbrance I’d gone without on any other trip I’ve ever taken. Everything I did I had to do on my own with no parents to back me up. This was a test of my capabilities, a test I intended to pass.
I started in Boston, Pa. The first day was the easiest; I covered a sizable distance without a single thing going wrong. On day two, it rained and then the sky decided to rain even harder. I did have a poncho; unfortunately for me, I had put it at the bottom of my bags and wouldn’t be able to reach it without getting everything else soaked. While setting up my tent that night, I dropped my flashlight. The batteries fell out and I couldn’t find them. I ended up setting up the tent in the dark and in pouring rain, only to accidentally snap one of the tent poles in half, forcing me to spend the night in a half-standing tent in the pouring rain. Ordinarily, I love the rain. I find it incredibly pleasant and relaxing. However, when one has to ride a bike though
miles of rain, it becomes one’s personal wet hell.
Three days and three nights it rained, never stopping, only occasionally slowing. After the rain cleared up, I started to move faster and talk to people along the trail.
There were not many people along the trail, but I met a few who arrived in my life one day and exited the next. The first was a man named Donald; he was going in the opposite direction. We stayed at the same campsite along the way and talked around the campfire. He told me about his family, his near-death experience with a drunk driver, and other life stories. We each went a different way the next morning and will not see each other again.
The next was a fellow named Mark. We ended up biking next to each other and he offered to grease the gears on my bike due to their squeaking sound. Eventually, I biked on ahead. There were a few other people, a couple biking form Washington, D.C., to Washington State, who made me realize that what I was doing was trivial. I will never see these people again, who soon were lost in my memories and traveling farther and farther way.
Up until that point in the trip, I’d never made a reservation at a hotel or a campsite to stay for the night. I simply waked in and got a room. This became a problem when I entered D.C. There is not a hotel, motel, or hostel in the city that is available without a week’s reservation. I had to bike backwards 20 miles at midnight in order to set up my tent at an outskirts campsite. The next morning it wasn’t any better. I was to take a train back to Pittsburgh when the chains on my bike broke and I was forced to run across the city of Washington just to catch the train in time to take a comparatively short train ride back home.f
I’d never had to do anything on my own. Biking to Washington, D.C., made me grow up a little. The things I did, the people I met, and most important, the things I didn't do would provide me with future references upon which to build wisdom. Overall, I enjoyed my trip; it was a test of my capabilities, and a test I passed.
Learn more about Fabian Badges on his blog.
Hundreds of cultures around the world have a coming-of-age ceremony: during the summer I turned 18, I made my own. It would be my seven-day, 320-mile trip that I took from Boston, Pa., to Washington, D.C.
The trail was easy to follow. It was one meandering line (save for a short detour). I took a Hard Rock bicycle with two saddlebags on the back filled with basic necessities: food, hygienic material, clothing, and a phone for emergencies. I had to keep in mind while packing that whatever I took, I’d carry the entire distance. This was an encumbrance I’d gone without on any other trip I’ve ever taken. Everything I did I had to do on my own with no parents to back me up. This was a test of my capabilities, a test I intended to pass.
I started in Boston, Pa. The first day was the easiest; I covered a sizable distance without a single thing going wrong. On day two, it rained and then the sky decided to rain even harder. I did have a poncho; unfortunately for me, I had put it at the bottom of my bags and wouldn’t be able to reach it without getting everything else soaked. While setting up my tent that night, I dropped my flashlight. The batteries fell out and I couldn’t find them. I ended up setting up the tent in the dark and in pouring rain, only to accidentally snap one of the tent poles in half, forcing me to spend the night in a half-standing tent in the pouring rain. Ordinarily, I love the rain. I find it incredibly pleasant and relaxing. However, when one has to ride a bike though
miles of rain, it becomes one’s personal wet hell.
Three days and three nights it rained, never stopping, only occasionally slowing. After the rain cleared up, I started to move faster and talk to people along the trail.
There were not many people along the trail, but I met a few who arrived in my life one day and exited the next. The first was a man named Donald; he was going in the opposite direction. We stayed at the same campsite along the way and talked around the campfire. He told me about his family, his near-death experience with a drunk driver, and other life stories. We each went a different way the next morning and will not see each other again.
The next was a fellow named Mark. We ended up biking next to each other and he offered to grease the gears on my bike due to their squeaking sound. Eventually, I biked on ahead. There were a few other people, a couple biking form Washington, D.C., to Washington State, who made me realize that what I was doing was trivial. I will never see these people again, who soon were lost in my memories and traveling farther and farther way.
Up until that point in the trip, I’d never made a reservation at a hotel or a campsite to stay for the night. I simply waked in and got a room. This became a problem when I entered D.C. There is not a hotel, motel, or hostel in the city that is available without a week’s reservation. I had to bike backwards 20 miles at midnight in order to set up my tent at an outskirts campsite. The next morning it wasn’t any better. I was to take a train back to Pittsburgh when the chains on my bike broke and I was forced to run across the city of Washington just to catch the train in time to take a comparatively short train ride back home.f
I’d never had to do anything on my own. Biking to Washington, D.C., made me grow up a little. The things I did, the people I met, and most important, the things I didn't do would provide me with future references upon which to build wisdom. Overall, I enjoyed my trip; it was a test of my capabilities, and a test I passed.
Learn more about Fabian Badges on his blog.