 |
Paths of Least Resistance: On the trail of the next great railroad boom
AMC Outdoors, July/August 2005 White tendrils of snow dance around the peaks of New Hampshire’s Presidential Range as I pull into the parking lot on the shoulder of Route 2. High above, whirling spindrift reveals the blunted summits of Mounts Madison and Adams in frustratingly teasing sections: a cascading chute here, tree-less promontory there. Then the wind shifts and they’re gone. Down in the lot, a bearded man dressed for the Shackleton expedition steps out of a sport utility vehicle next to my two-door VW. Together we take in the changing vista. “It’s still pretty sloppy up there,” the man says. He’s carrying snowshoes. I’ve got my bike. It’s April 29 and I’ve come to the White Mountain National Forest to ride the Presidential Range Rail Trail, which runs for 18.3 scenic miles between the towns of Jefferson and Gorham. Of the vast network of rail trails that crisscross the state, I’m told the Presidential trail, a former rail bed of the Boston & Maine, is one of New Hampshire’s finest. Its firm, cinder surface weathers well, and the grade, while steeper than what you’d find on most paved, urban trails, is gentle considering its mountainous environs. Curiously, out of everyone within the rail-trail community I’d spoken with, no one had ever ridden it before. As a newer rail trail, it’s not listed in any of the guidebooks and there’s little mention of it online. Tempermental New England weather notwithstanding, chances are good I’ll have it to myself. So what if I’m a few weeks early? No one knows exactly when the first person decided that it was a good idea to venture onto an abandoned railroad corridor for fun. But today, hundreds of thousands of people walk, bike, and in-line skate on the nation’s 1,200 multi-use pathways known as rail trails. They relieve congested downtown areas by providing commuters with clean and efficient alternatives to the car or subway. Rural rail trails lure outdoor enthusiasts with routes that travel through radiant forests and pastoral farmland. Ideal for families in search of safe cycling routes, they also bring back economic activity to communities whose main streets have been left vacant by the sprawl of big box stores. In Pennsylvania alone, there are 120 rail trails totaling 1,100 miles. Maine and Massachusetts each have close to 500 miles, while New Hampshire’s 300 miles include 26 routes in the White Mountains. The idea of converting unused or abandoned rail corridors into multi-use trails can be traced back to the 1960s in the Midwest, but the rails-to-trails movement really didn’t gather steam until the early 1980s. In 1983, Congress enacted an amendment to the National Trails Act permitting the practice of “railbanking,” the setting aside of abandoned rail corridors for public use while keeping the option open for future rail use down the line. While not a permanent fix, railbanking prevents the reversion of railroad property to adjacent landowners. So far, none have been reactivated for rail use. The Rails-to-Trails Conservancy, a Washington, D.C.-based advocacy group dedicated to the creation of rail trails, was founded three years later. By promoting policy at the national and state levels and lobbying Congress for the continuation of Transportation Enhancement funds—the single greatest source of funding for rail trails—the organization became the catalyst for the next great railroad boom. Under RTC’s stewardship, the number of multi-use trails in the U.S. grew tenfold in less than 20 years. My first clue that I’ll have my work cut out for me on the Presidential Range Rail Trail comes from cycling advocate Dick MacKay, author of Adventures in Paradise: Exploring the Upper Connecticut Valley of New Hampshire & Vermont. “Be careful,” he warned me, “that one climbs more than most do.” My second clue comes when I start to pedal. Snowmobile tracks are stamped into the cinder rail bed (the byproduct of the coal-burning locomotive engines), causing my bike frame to vibrate as though I’d drifted onto the rumble strip. There are no signs of snow on the trail but no reassuring signs of spring either, and the few sloppy sections I encounter on the trail kill what little momentum I’ve banked. For a moment, part of me (the part that hasn’t been on a bike in six months) wishes they hadn’t ripped up the railroad track on this abandoned line. Then, the gentle downhill grade begins. For the first time, I experience a sensation of effortless motion. Gravity now on my side, the snow-covered peaks of the Presidential Range fall away behind me. On either side of the trail, weathered railroad ties are stacked like cordwood every 100 yards; warped and splitting power poles make their last stand in the indifferent forest that has grown up around them. It’s impossible to ride, walk, or ski on any of the Northeast’s rail trails, I decide, without feeling a little twinge of nostalgia. It’s been more than 40 years since the last passenger train shuttled tourists along this route. It was the railroad that opened up the continent for westward expansion, and, for better or worse, the engine that drove industrialization. At its peak, more than a billion Americans crisscrossed the country on the trains each year on 300,000 miles of track. Today, I go for miles without seeing a soul. All this is on my mind as I pedal toward Gorham. With the return portion of my trip almost entirely uphill, I opt to turn around at one of the weathered wood trestles along the route. Then, almost on cue, the veil of snow lifts from the Presidentials. High above, I can see the glinting ridge line of Mount Madison. I pause briefly and then head for home. Ride the Rails! The Northeast is Grand Central Station for rail trails. Here are some classic lines and some you haven’t heard of: The Trail: Wallkill Valley Rail Trail, New Paltz, N.Y. Traveling beneath the long shadows of the Shawangunk Mountains—the traditional climbing mecca known as “The Gunks”—the Wallkill Valley Rail Trail is heavy on both history and natural beauty. In its heyday, the railroad primarily moved dairy products from the region’s numerous creameries. Located 90 miles north of New York City, the trail passes by 17th-century stone buildings in New Paltz’s Huguenot District, one of America’s oldest neighborhoods, while offering sweeping views of pastoral farmland from numerous lookout points. The Trail: Missisquoi Valley Rail Trail, St. Albans, Vt. Picture-postcard views, quaint villages with out-of-the-way eateries, and a surprisingly gentle grade make the Missisquoi Valley Rail Trail the perfect rural ride for beginner cyclists. But Kate Carter, author of Cycling Vermont, offers this one piece of advice: wear sunscreen. Unlike the leafy, wooded trails that crisscross the state elsewhere, there’s no tree coverage along the wide-open Missisquoi, which cuts through the dairy heartland of quiet Franklin County. The payoff for sunburned riders, hikers, and skiers: unencoumbered views of monolithic Jay Peak. The Trail: Presidential Range Rail Trail, Gorham, N.H. New Hampshire’s Presidential Range Rail Trail travels through undeniably spectacular terrain as it traces the northern flanks of the Presidential Range. So why doesn’t it see more traffic? One reason could be its rugged character: the trail alternates between long stretches of cinder and unfriendly ballast, a heavier rock that makes for bumpy travel on two wheels. It’s a smoother ride in the winter—one trailside icon features a stick person pushing what looks like a shopping cart. It’s actually a dogsled. The Trail: Lehigh Gorge State Park Trail, Jim Thorpe, Pa. According to legend, famed naturalist James Audubon took one look at the devastating logging practices along Pennsylvania’s Lehigh River and left in utter disgust. A return trip today reveals a decidedly different scene. This scenic rail corridor, which was once used to tap the anthracite coalfields in the Hazleton and Wilkes-Barre regions, follows the downstream flow of the Lehigh River through 4,548-acre Lehigh Gorge State Park. Perfect for hikers and mountain bikers, the trail runs for 26 miles alongside pounding waterfalls and 800-foot cliffs. The Ttrail: Minuteman Commuter Bikeway, Cambridge, Mass. Steeped in history—the route is said to follow the one traveled by Paul Revere in 1775—Cambridge’s Minuteman Bikeway passes through wetlands, wildflower meadows, and vast public spaces, including East Lexington’s 183-acre Great Meadows. The bikeway connects Boston’s inner suburbs, from Cambridge to Bedford, and has become a model for urban multi-use trails across the country. By reducing automobile traffic, it provides commuters with a clean and efficient way to get around. Weekend crowds on the Minuteman Bikeway are said to rival those at the starting line of the Boston Marathon, so be prepared for company. The Trail: Catskill Scenic Trail, Stamford, N.Y. Traveling past fields, streams, and wide-open mountain vistas, it hits you: Where’s the fatigue? With just 400 feet of elevation gain over its entire length, the Catskill Scenic Trail is truly a mountain respite, ideal for beginner cyclists who prefer the uncrowded flats to hillier—and more heavily-trafficked—topography. The trail lures anglers as well, who have multiple access points over a 10-mile section from which to cast a line. Once used to transport seasonal tourists seeking the “sanitary advantages” of a summer spent at higher altitude, the railroad saw most of its activity hauling coal, cauliflower, and Delaware County dairy products. The Trail:Jay to Farmington Trail, Jay, Maine The Jay to Farmington Trail is one of the best ways to experience the rugged and understated beauty of Maine’s Western Mountains region, a four-season recreational stash that’s slightly off the beaten path. The popular trail, running through wetlands, over rolling hills, and beneath dense forests, has also been held up as a model of how diverse user groups can work toward a common cause. When it came time to re-deck the 400-foot East Wilton Trestle in 2001, the funds came from Maine’s ATV and snowmobile program. Local cyclists, skiers, and equestrians pitched in with the manpower. The Trail: Paulinskill Valley Trail, New Jersey Weaving through hardwood forests and farmland, northwestern New Jersey’s Paulinskill Valley Trail transports naturalists and ambitious fat-tire riders back in time. Located a few miles from the Appalachian Trail and AMC’s Mohican Outdoor Center, the trail meanders past remnants of abandoned railroad stations and old logging roads, crossing the Paulins Kill River at multiple points along the way. Once used to haul agricultural products and Pennsylvania coal, the trail now alternates between sections of challenging singletrack and pavement (to recover on) in Kittatinny Valley State Park. - Ed Winchester, Executive Editor of AMC Outdoors. Photo: Jim Shea |
|
 |
