On the Trail to Adventure

We decided to spend the last part of the afternoon exploring our nearby section of the Washington Heritage Trail, the 136-mile scenic route along the Potomac that traces George Washington's activities and interests during his time in this part of the country. 

Our journey today took us first to the Panorama Overlook, a view rated by National Geographic as "one of the five best in the east". From our vantage point, we could see both the Potomac and Cacopan Rivers and mountain ridges in three states. 

From there we drove north to the village of Great Cacapon, a place Washington surveyed and also where he owned some choice riverfront property. It is a tiny town now, though, and finding nowhere of interest to stop, we continued along our way to the town of Pawpaw on a route described as "among the most scenic in the state". 

The weather was growing evermore threatening as we drove to that hamlet, population 410, and we were disappointed to find the visitors center firmly shuttered. We knew, however, that just beyond the town and across the Maryland state line lay one of the greatest engineering marvels of the 19th century, the Pawpaw Tunnel on the C&O Canal. 

"There is a huge thunderstorm pretty much directly over us," Victor warned as we pulled into the parking lot, looking at the weather app on his phone, but undeterred, we grabbed umbrellas and headed the .17 miles down the trail to find the tunnel. A smattering of fat drops were falling and there were rumbles of thunder rolling towards us as we first walked and then jogged toward the 3,000-foot tunnel.

The tunnel was built to allow the canal to bypass a notoriously snaky section of the river. It took 14 years, thousands of men, hundreds of thousands of dollars, and over 6,000,000 bricks to bore straight through the ridge and construct the tunnel. Although the canal continued to transport goods until 1924, by the time the tunnel was complete, the railroad that would eventually replace the barges had already arrived in the area.

Today the tunnel is used by hikers and bikers on the canal, and today it offered us shelter from the torrential rain that started just as we arrived. We made our way carefully into the dark, our voices echoing off the vaulted ceiling. The light from the other end was deceptive, so much farther away than it looked. The towpath was bumpy and pitted, and we weren't very far inside before we needed the flashlights from our phones to light the way. The original railing was sturdy, though, and leaning over we could see a trickle of water covering the granite bottom 12 feet below. A strong breeze from the other end blew toward us as we fell into a rhythm of walking in the dark. 

To me, it was trance-like and magical; my eyes relaxed and my feet found their way along the rutted path. We reached a point where we could no longer tell what the weather was like outside, but in hushed voices we discussed whether and how quickly the water level was rising in the canal. Emily and Heidi and I were perhaps a hundred yards behind Bill, Treat, Nadika, and Victor, and we decided to turn back about three-quarters of the way through. 

Like so often happens, finding our way out seemed a lot quicker than finding our way in, and soon we stood outside the tunnel beneath puffy clouds and blue skies. The storm had passed, and it was time to head back to the cabin.