Cross Country for a Cause

Part 2: A Love letter to Ohio - By: Jesse Kipp

By KAVU

November 24^th, 2020

By the time Drew and I got to Ohio, we were over a thousand miles into our cross country bike trip to Seattle. The first five states had been a blast, full of friends and family, and nearly perfect weather. We were riding cross country for a cause, to raise money for the ACLU, and our campaign was exceeding our expectations. We had already doubled our initial goal of $5,000, and it was starting to look like we’d have to raise it again.

We’d been following Adventure Cycling’s Northern Tier Bike Route from our start in Bar Harbor, Maine, but in Cleveland we would head south through our home state and connect with the classic TransAmerica Bike Trail in Kentucky. I was excited to explore Ohio by bike, and in Cleveland our gang of two would double. My twin sister Sarah would be riding with us until Columbus, and my friend Ryan – who is also an Ohioan living in Seattle – would join us all the way to his hometown of Cincinnati.

We crossed into Ohio on a cloudy afternoon after a short but soggy ride along Pennsylvania’s lakeshore, and arrived in Geneva-On-The-Lake after putting in a hundred mile day. My friend Mara and her entire extended family were staying on Lake Erie for a few days and offered to let us crash their family vacation. We were greeted with cold beers, fish tacos, and a lot of curious questions from the kids, and after a beautiful sunset and some drinks around the campfire, Drew and I rolled out our sleeping bags under the shelter of the backyard gazebo. We couldn’t have asked for a warmer welcome to our home state, and our sendoff the next morning topped it off, as all nineteen of them cheered us along as they chased us down the road.

In Cleveland we took a rest day while we waited for Ryan and Sarah to arrive. Drew’s girlfriend Jenny drove out from New Jersey so she could rendezvous with us in the evenings for a few days as we made our way south. My sister came in from Pennsylvania, met up with my parents in central Ohio, and the three of them drove up to hang out in Cleveland for the day. I told my dad to bring the clippers. My long hair had grown into a tangled mess since we'd started the trip and it needed to go. The next morning Ryan flew in from Seattle on a red eye, and after swooping him from the airport, we set out as a gang of four.

The Ohio to Erie Trail crosses Ohio north to south and connects Cleveland to Cincinnati through Columbus. The entire trail is 326 miles long, with all but around 50 miles of it being a string of contiguous bike paths. Within a few miles of downtown Cleveland, we were on the trail, and not long after that we entered Cuyahoga Valley National Park. We also hit some rain, but that didn’t dampen our spirits. Sandwiched between the old Ohio & Erie Canal and the Cuyahoga River, we cruised through a drizzly forest, down a crushed limestone path, along a succession of bygone locks. It was my first time in Ohio’s only National Park and it made me appreciate the different ways in which our parks are experienced and the diversity in our National Park system. In the same way that Alaska’s Glacier Bay must be seen by boat, or Florida’s Biscayne National Park through a mask and snorkel, I quickly realized that Cuyahoga Valley is best experienced by bike. After a lunch stop in Peninsula, we left the park, made our way through Akron, and peddled on to Canal Fulton where we ended our day as the sun broke through the clouds. Jenny was waiting for us at a riverside campground along with our old childhood friend Joe, and we cooked out, drank beers, and laughed until we were ready to sleep.

From Canal Fulton we followed a few different rail trails, all connected by a zigzag of lightly-trafficked pastoral roads. The Ohio to Erie Trail was well marked between bike paths, with signage at every intersection. We were impressed! No need for Google Maps. In Fredericksburg we jumped on a trail that was shared with horse-drawn Amish carriages, and after a lunch stop in Millersburg, we took off toward Gambier, the village where Sarah and I were born and raised. Drew grew up in the neighboring town of Mount Vernon, where his parents still live, and his father Bill rode out to join us for the last thirty-five miles. The five of us cruised into Gambier on the Kokosing Gap Trail, my parents drove up from Granville, and after a quick detour by our childhood home, we met up with Jenny at a picnic shelter for some hot Stromboli from Dirko’s Pizza. We made one more stop for beers at our friends’ Caitlin and Nate’s house before getting shuttled out to Drew’s parents’ home where we stayed for the night.

Jenny left for New Jersey the next morning, and we said farewell to Drew’s parents, although we’d be seeing Bill again very soon. From Gambier we rode to Columbus. More bike paths, more rain, and more admiration for the place where we grew up. After a heavy downpour, we snaked along Alum Creek as the sun came out and steam rose from the bike path. Our friends Bob and Tracy were out of town, and let us crash in their place for the night. We walked over to Seventh Son Brewing for food and beer, and after dinner my dad came by and picked up Sarah. The gang was down to three.

Meanwhile, our ACLU fundraiser was gaining serious traction. We were closing in on $10,000, so before we left Columbus, we added another $5,000 to our goal!

After Columbus we hit a long stretch of straight-as-an-arrow rail trails through flat Ohio farmland. That evening we camped in Caesar Creek State Park, and our friend Lilly drove over from Franklin to join us for dinner. Ryan and I used to work with Lilly. We met her when she was an expedition leader on a boat in Alaska and we had all bonded over our Ohio roots. After dinner we hiked down to the reservoir for sunset, it was no Inside Passage, but we all agreed that our home state was beautiful in its own right.

The following day we rode along the Little Miami River into a green and hilly southern Ohio. We couldn’t have asked for better weather on our way down to Cincinnati, and the trail got more and more crowded as we approached Ryan’s hometown. About twelve miles out, Ryan’s brother Alex and his friends Matt and Joel met us along the trail, and the six of us paraded into Cincinnati and finished off the day at Alex’s house.

Alex and his girlfriend Anna hosted us for a night, and we spent the next day in Cincinnati running errands and getting much-needed bike tune-ups. I also picked up a new tattoo! That afternoon we biked across town to Ryan’s parents house and got a peek at Ryan’s old stomping grounds. The next morning Ryan showed us the way down to the ferry, and crossed the Ohio River into Kentucky with us before saying farewell. We would see him again before our journey came to an end.

Ohio exceeded my expectations. I had been excited about the trip down memory lane, but our week in Ohio had given me a new appreciation for the place where I grew up. The Ohio to Erie Trail is a shining example of Ohio’s dedication to bicycle advocacy. And it’s not just the seamless network of bike paths that were impressive, but how the towns and villages along the way have welcomed and embraced the two-wheeled traffic. I never knew my home state was so bike-friendly! And that was made even more apparent once we crossed into Kentucky.

Navigating Kentucky’s roads took some concentration. The shoulders were almost nonexistent, and every inch of white line was a rumble strip. Many of the roads were hilly and winding, and truck traffic was heavy at times. Luckily the first day in our seventh state ended on a high note when the owner of the campground dropped off a complimentary bottle of bourbon as we were setting up our tents. We were definitely in Kentucky.

The next day we had a short ride to the outskirts of Louisville to see my cousin’s husband Finn in Anchorage. We got in midday and had the afternoon to hang out and relax. Finn gave us a driving tour of the area, we stopped for some afternoon beers at an outdoor bar, and then scarfed down pizza for dinner back in his neighborhood. Finn was a great host, and just my luck I had a half empty bottle of bourbon to gift him before we left.

Not too far from Finn’s house we connected with the wonderful Louisville Loop Trail, our one and only stretch of bike path in Kentucky. But once it ended, we were back on rumble-stripped roads, white-knuckling our way to Hodgenville. We cooked up some ramen at a ballpark that evening and watched a softball practice as a thunderstorm rolled in, barely finishing up dinner before taking shelter in an old dirty dugout. And that’s where we slept for the night. It was a rough one.

Ten miles after Hodgenville we linked up with the TransAmerica Bike Trail. We’d left the Northern Tier in Cleveland, and after ten days we’d finally connected to America’s most renowned cross country bike route. That evening Drew’s dad Bill drove down from Ohio and met us in Fordsville. Bill is an avid cyclist and has ridden his bike across America east to west, and north to south! But for the following two weeks he was going to SAG for us. In the cycling world SAG stands for “supplies and gear,” so for us that meant that Bill would be driving the route, lugging our gear, and providing us with an endless supply of Oreo cookies. He also offered to dip into his credit card reward points for some hotel stays, which meant no more baseball dugouts for a while.

We’d met a guy back in New York who had biked the TransAmerica ten years ago with his son, and all he had to say about the entire trip was, “Watch out for the dogs in Kentucky.” From Fordsville to Marion those infamous dogs came out to play. Not just one or two, but packs of them, four or five times. I don’t know how we would’ve survived if Bill hadn’t swooped in the day before to carry our gear. Without the additional weight on our bikes we were able to outrun them all. Just barely.

After five days in Kentucky, we floated back over the Ohio River on a small ferry and entered Illinois. We spent a little more than 24-hours in state number eight, riding through humidity and rain, up and down the rolling hills of the beautiful Shawnee National Forest. On the morning of our second day in Illinois, Drew had a snafu with his freewheel while changing a flat, and luckily we were able to get to a bike shop for a quick fix. If it hadn’t been for Bill we probably would’ve lost a day or two.

At Chester we hit the Mississippi River. The bridge was narrow and the semi-trucks were intimidating, but Bill was there to escort our two-person parade, so with hazard lights on, he followed us across the river into Missouri, our ninth state. We ended the day in Farmington, on the edge of the Ozarks. We were exactly one month into our cross country trip, but from Farmington I would be starting a new chapter within our adventure. In August of 2000, I ended a 2,100 mile bike trip in Farmington, and for the next few weeks I’d be retracing the route I took half my life ago. But I’ll save that story for the next installment…