Biking on Federal Hill

It's "Restaurant Week " week in Baltimore -- and I had the great pleasure to visit the Bicycle Bistro in Federal Hill last night. In addition to the regular menu, they have a three-course prix fixe meal for $30.07 (the 07 indicates this is the price for Restaurant Week in 2007; better go now because next year it will be $30.08).

If you select from the prix fixe menu, you get your choice of appetizer, main course and dessert. The wine list includes "Eighteen for Eighteen," or eighteen bottles for an affordable eighteen dollars each.

My choices were the Sashimi Tuna and Avocado Tartare as an appetizer, Bicycle Vegetarian Nirvana for the main course, and Bread Pudding with fruit for dessert. All I can say is this was an amazingly excellent meal! The presentation was so artistic it was almost a shame to eat it -- but I overcame that obstacle easily when I took the first bite! Everything tasted as good as it looked -- or maybe better.

I will be here in the Baltimore area for a few days, and then will be back on the road. I think food may play a large part in this visit -- I already have a few additional dinner plans in the works. Guess I better get the walking shoes on and try to mitigate the damages!

Falling or White?

The Ohiopyle Area is known for two things -- Frank Lloyd Wright architecture and the Youghiogheny River (yah-kuh-GAIN-ee or the Yough, pronounced YOCK) and its rapids. Lets start with Frank --

Arguably, one of his best known designs is that of Fallingwater just outside Ohiopyle. The house was commissioned by Edgar Kaufmann, who loved the waterfall on the property and assumed that the view from the house would show the falls. Instead, FLW put the house ON the falls. This visit, I took the "in depth" tour which was for two hours and included some areas (such as the servant quarters) that are not part of the regular tour. While Fallingwater is the famous house here, nearby, on a hill on the other side of Ohiopyle, sits another FLW house named Kentuck Knob. This is a beautiful example of FLW's Usonian architecture, built with the " common " people in mind -- but the house is anything but common! At first glance, the house appears to be built in the shape of a "U" with one side the entrance, one the carport, and one the utility space. In reality, there are no right angles in the house. None. Anywhere. It is a complex arrangement of triangles and parallelograms and other assorted shapes that aren't square. The interior is red cypress and field stone, cut, of course, on angles. The house is still privately owned. It is a real find, and well worth a visit if you are in the area.

The other thing Ohiopyle is known for is white water rafting -- and I did it! There are three distinct portions of the Yough: Upper, Middle,and Lower. The Middle has no fast rapids and is a gentle float only. The Upper is only for the experienced or stupid -- it drops 115 feet in one mile, and is rated class IV and V. The Lower Yough, which I did, is somewhere in-between, rated class III. Since I am not yet totally out of my head, I signed up for a guided trip. There are 4 outfitters that do rafting trips from Ohiopyle, and they all operate in about the same way, and use the same put-in and take-out spots. Each group of people who go out (we had 64 people) keep somewhat together throughout the trip, and have 2 to 6 per raft. Everyone is pulled aside before the large rapids, and given instructions for navigating them. The guides travel on the river in their rafts or kayaks to help people who get stuck on rocks or go overboard. They also locate themselves at strategic points in and around the rapids to provide directional help (go RIGHT! Not that right, your OTHER RIGHT!) and rescue if need be.

Since I was on a guided tour, I was paired up with a guide named Mike who was the "sweep" guide -- staying at the back to be sure no one was stuck and left behind. However, when we got to a rapids and the main group was off to the side for instructions, Mike and I went first as he needed to station himself for possible rescue. After he navigated the rapids, he would get our raft safely on a rock where I had a good view, and then go stand somewhere strategic and either throw a rope to people who fell in, or help get rafts unstuck from known trouble spots (this usually involved getting in the water and wrestling the raft off the rock, or thowing his entire body at it to shake it loose -- while standing, barefoot, in the middle of the whitewater). I had a great view of all the rafts as they came though the rapids (and all the spills) from a safe vantage point. Once, I was positioned in the middle of two whitewater cascades, one to the right, and one to the left with a big rock directly in front of me that was separating the two flows. It was really impressive to be in the middle of all that energy! We also pulled one person from the water, and "taxied" a couple others from the rocks they were stranded on back to the boats they had fallen out of.

The weather around here has pretty much been the same each day -- sunny and hot until late afternoon, then some thunderstorms, then clearing. Only one day has this pattern not held -- the day I went rafting! It began raining when we got on the bus to go to the take-in. It rained for over half the trip, sometimes quite hard with even a little lightning and thunder (we didn't stop -- we were about as low in altitude as we could get, surrounded by trees and mountains and the lightning never got severe). In the beginning, I actually liked it -- there was a lovely mist on the water, and all the trees were that deep, vibrant green that foliage takes on in the rain. And once you are wet, it really doesn't matter much if you stay in the rain because you aren't getting any wetter! Eventually it started to get chilly, but the sun came out shortly thereafter and the rest of the trip was bright and warm.

The outfitters I chose were Laurel Highlands River Tours, and they were very conscientious about taking care of their customers and watching out for them. It was a marvelously fun experience, and Mike was so good at steering the raft that I never felt we were going to tip over (although I probably could have been arrested for giving him a beer -- he seemed very young, and said he's starting his Junior year in college this fall). Some of the other folks in our group really should have opted for the guided tour -- they had a lot of trouble on rocks, people fell out, and in some cases they tipped the entire raft. Some of them learned early that help would come when they were stuck, so they never even tried to get loose from a rock -- they just sat there until Mike, or one of the other guides came by to help. A videographer kayaked with us, and I did buy the video -- the picture below is a still from that video.

So why is this titled Falling or White? Just add "water" of course!

Johnstown Flood and Inclined Plane

In the latter part of the 19th century, 14 miles north of Johnstown the Conemaugh River was dammed to provide consistent water flow for a canal. Just like the C & O Canal, this one was also obsolete almost before it was put in service -- and, like the C&O Canal, the spoiler was the railroad. The dammed river was no longer needed; the property was sold to a developer who made the lake into a posh get-away location for the rich fleeing the summer heat in Pittsburgh.

The new owner did not see the need for outlet pipes in a lake, so he removed them and sold them for scrap. The dam was too narrow for two wagons to pass, so he removed a few feet from the top in the middle. He did occasionally dump more dirt and rocks on spots that were seeping, but the lack of outlet pipes meant there was no longer a way to drain the lake to make repairs -- or to remove pressure buildup.

In May 1889, torrential rains fell for days. With no other outlet, the water eventually broke through the weakened middle of the dam and began to race south towards Johnstown. Some said the torrent was as swift as the water falling over the Niagara Falls. The storm had taken down the telegraph wires -- there was no way to warn Johnstown of the impending deluge.

When the flood reached Johnstown, it was a wall of water and debris that was 40 feet high and half a mile wide. It entered Johnstown through the gap seen at the top of the photo above, rushed through the town, and sloshed up the hill where the Incline Plane tracks are (bottom center). The water exited the valley to the left of this photo, but the huge pile of debris was halted by a bridge. Because it had picked up flammable fuels along the way, the debris caught on fire and burned for days. 2209 people died. One-third of all the bodies found were never identified. Clara Barton, president of the Red Cross, was one of the first to arrive to provide aid.

Some people opted to move out, and some decided to rebuild. Financial aid was made available, and those who qualified were given the option of using $250 of their aid to purchase an "Oklahoma House," a one room wooden house that often sheltered multiple families in the aftermath of the flood. A wood-burning stove, a table, cots and a chair were all that could be fitted into the small space.

Many decided to rebuild, but to do so on higher ground -- higher and harder to get to. The Johnstown Inclined Plane was built in response to the need for cars and people to ascend to the top of the hill. The two cars are attached to a single set of cables -- when one goes up, the other goes down (the elevators in the Eiffel Tower are similarly connected). It costs $4.00 for a round-trip ticket. It is still possible to drive an automobile on the Inclined Plane car ($6.00 one way, and you must make the sure the attendant remembers to chock your wheels), but everyone on my trip down and up were on foot. The grade is 70.9% (and I thought the 18% grade at Rickett's Glen was bad!), and it is billed as "The World's Steepest Vehicular Inclined Plane." It was designed by Samuel Diescher, who also designed the mechanism for the first Ferris Wheel, unveiled at the Chicago World's Colombian Exposition in 1893.

In addition to riding the Inclined Plane, I visited the Johnstown Flood Museum. I entered the theater to watch the ubiquitous movie, often a chance for a quick nap, and discovered a true gem. The film was made by George Guggenheim, and it won an Academy Award in the documentary category. It was easily the best "museum" film I have ever seen. Vintage footage and pictures were seamlessly integrated with contemporary recreations, and the effect was "being there." Well worth a visit if you find yourself in Johnstown.

Let's Roll

The Pennsylvania countryside near Shanksville is very similar to the country-side of Michigan in the fifties when I grew up -- except the bottom half of the lower peninsula of Michigan where I lived has the contour of a pancake -- unless that pancake has a bubble to give it some elevation and then my home in the Saginaw Valley would be flatter (please don't ask why it's a valley if it's so flat -- no one knows). Pennsylvania has so many hills there are sections that trucks are gently advised to go elsewhere because they might have a VERY bad day if they continue on the road they are on. But I digress.

This part of Pennsylvania is a throw back to a simpler time. Farmland stretches for miles, and it smells of hay, grass and fertilizer. There are farm houses with penned ducks and geese in the front yard, railroad crossings that have no electronic gates or flashing lights or even a stop sign (I did remember to stop and look both ways!), and one lane dirt roads that lead to covered bridges that still function as bridges, and once over them the dirt road leads to more farmland and more dirt roads.

There are also a surprising number of American flags flying in yards, and there is no holiday in sight.

The reason for the flags is simple: it was here in the hills of Somerset County that Flight 93 impacted on September 11, 2001.

There are references on some maps to the impact site and chapel, and there are discreet, almost reverent signs that point you in the right direction if you are looking for them, but they don't shout at you, or advertise themselves in any promotional way. You have to seek them out.

I followed a notation on a local map of Somerset's covered bridges to the Chapel. The Chapel hugs the corner of two back roads, and a small portion of the land behind it has been given to a memorial to the Flight 93 crew and passengers. A large granite cone is the centerpiece, and the names and faces of the captain and crew are chiseled on the monument. Most of the space contains small offerings, such as painted rocks or plaques. The Chapel is not open every day, but you are welcome to go in on other days if you "get lucky" and someone is there. Today was not an open day, but I did get lucky and was able to visit the inside. The man who was working in the chapel gave me a map and directions to the impact site, which is about 5 miles from the chapel.

The Memorial sits on a small road off a country road. I was the only one visiting the chapel, but there were a number of people at the impact site. The site is run by the National Park Service, and it is a temporary memorial. There is a small walk-through building staffed by a volunteer, some port-a-potties, and the remarkable memorial that the visitors to the site have created. Like Ground Zero, a "wall" has been created where people have hung an amazing array of things that hold meaning to them, or in some cases to the victims. Dolls, clothing, license plates, coins, buttons, rosary beads, painted stones, plastic flowers, and flags, flags, and more flags.

Around the wall, other small memorials have been build -- a flag made of tiles, a huge star topped by an eagle grasping a plane in his talons, a wooden "avatar" for each of the victims (complete with beads and decorations and for at least one, a Japanese flag), a granite slab placed by motorcyclists, a wooden cross painted with angels. Even the car railings around the parking lot have been painted and stickered in remembrance.

The plans are to tear this all down and build a permanent memorial, with roads, a granite wall with the victims names on it, and a Visitor Center. It is supposed to be done for the 10th Anniversary, but the Park Service has no money and they have not yet broken ground. It would be fine to add a Visitor Center -- a real toilet is always welcome, and I guess I'd buy a refrigerator magnet if there was a gift shop. But leave the personal memorials alone. The real memorial is there now. The heartfelt thanks from those who have visited is so clear that no wall with names on it could say it any better.

More Images of the Chapel and the Memorial (Site uses Flash, and may load slowly for slow connections)