February 5, 2012
North East, MD, to Perryville, MD
section miles: 12.5 total miles: 40.0
Today we reached the Susquehanna river, at the head of Chesapeake Bay in Perryville, MD, about 40 miles from our front door. Rene and I have this mental map of our local geography that says once we cross the Susquehanna, we're out of our backyard. Of course, that mental map was drawn by car, barreling down I-95 toward Baltimore with not quite enough time to squeeze in a full CD of music before you cross the bridge. Now, after having walked it, we have a whole new appreciation of just how far that is.
The section from Northeast to Perryville comes with an emphatic warning from the Mason Dixon Trail System:
The section between Perryville and North East, MD... is not recommended for casual hikers. ~3 miles is along an active rail line with a trestle. Much of the rest is undergoing rapid development. With that comforting thought in mind, we decided to walk eastbound (starting at Perryville) to put the track section behind us early, and with the (false) hope that the wind would be at our back this time.
As it turns out, the track hike was not too bad. Only one train lumbered by in the two hours we were on the rail line, and we were pleasantly surprised by the quiet woods and fields we passed through - we were expecting something more industrial. You often look down on either side into woods with streams and beaver ponds, and occasionally pass by some substantial rock outcrops. We even jumped a couple of deer at one point. But make no mistake, walking on or along the tracks can be difficult, largely due to the bed of crushed, loose stone. We found that walking directly down the middle of the track provided the most solid footing, but this approach also tended to stymie our conversation. "I think I hear a train. Did you hear a train?"
After two hours of this we started to get concerned. We knew we weren't making great time, but two hours to go three miles? No way. Eventually we came to a road overpass, and scrambled up through the briars to get our bearings. Not far down the road was a small cluster of country homes, and after steeling our nerves a bit, we knocked on the most promising door for directions. A very gracious young woman answered and cheerfully provided some answers. It turns out we had missed our turn off a mile back, but we were only a short jaunt up the road from where the trail intersected.
From there the trail followed a telephone right-of-way through some sopping wet woods and across a couple of subdivisions, before joining up with a barely-recognizable dirt road. This road passed by and through some of the toughest-looking neighborhoods yet. Abandoned everything-you-can-imagine lined the trail - and in some cases was on the trail. Boys roared around empty lots in 4-wheelers as if on a mission to grind every last shred of vegetation into the mud. Big, muscular dogs strained at us, chained by the neck with links that would hold a grizzly bear (thankfully!). Tough guys milled about here and there among piles of old tires and rusty vehicles. But in the midst of all this we met a man and woman working on the edge of the woods, where the trail passed through, shoveling, raking, tossing trash into a pile. "We're trying to clean up around here," the woman said. God bless 'em.
The trail continued on for a short stretch on some roads, then followed North East creek into town. The creek, like many we've seen so far, had its moments of surprising beauty, considering how closely the pall of commercialism has encroached. Our maps had us crossing the creek on the east side of town, but the bridge was washed out (as in, completely gone), so we backtracked our way right down main street and directly into... Woody's Crab House. I mean, come on, you're walking right by, you gotta stop.
