Day 15

October 18, 2021:

I was up at dawn, in the twilight minutes before the sun rose above the horizon. I was glad to have been unbothered during the night, but wanted to be up and on my way before anyone came around to ask unpleasant questions. With that sense of urgency, I quickly packed my things and once more leaned my bike against one of the support poles of the shelter at the edge of the field. I got my hand pump out, inflating the flattened front tire. There wasn’t any point changing it out with the other flat I had in my pack. My goal was to reach Gettysburg by the end of the day, and I had reached out to a guest house via Warmshowers to see if they would be available. But to get there, I saw there was a bicycle shop in Chambersburg, 13 miles down the road, that opened at 10 am. I wanted to be there when the shop opened. I set off, and was slightly surprised by how slowly the tire deflated in front of me. I made it over several hills, for a distance of maybe two miles before I had to refill it. I did this again and again, making my way through St. Thomas and west Chambersburg.

Pennsylvania has a program called Hometown Heroes in which they display photographs of the men and women who served in each of America’s last major wars on the streets of the towns they are from. I was surprised by just how many came from the small town of St. Thomas. Dozens.

At last, I passed through the streets of Chambersburg. It seemed a little run-down. Even many of the restaurants and shops on its historic main drag were closed, and looked to be closed permanently. I found my way to the family bike shop in town. It was 9:40 am, a full twenty minutes early. I had to use the restroom quite badly, so I pumped up my tire again and set off for Johnnie’s, a café on the south side of town I figured I’d get some breakfast at as well. Unfortunately, it too was closed, its windows shuttered and dusty. I found that weird, since the restaurant seemed to have good reviews as recently as a week ago, and yet the door was locked, the neon ‘Open’ sign unlit, and I checked the hours – it should have been open. I went back to the bike shop, clenching my buttocks to withstand the next few minutes.

I saw a guy working inside, and hoped he would see me and move to unlock the door. He didn’t, and at 10:05, I tried the handle. It opened. He must have wondered what I was doing standing out front for so long. I asked to check that they were open, and he waved me in. I wheeled my bike to the back of the store, where his workshop was, explaining my problem. “I’ve had three flat tires in the last three days. Either there’s something seriously wrong with my tire, or I’ve got bad technique and am repeatedly doing it wrong.” “Do you have any of the flats from before?” “Yes, I kept one, since I couldn’t find anything wrong with it.” I gave it to him. He inflated it with his pressure nozzle, bringing it up past its normal inflation. The pressure held. He inspected it with his hands, then opened a door to a bathroom, filling the wash basin with water. He plunged the tube under by the valve – nothing. Then he moved the tube around, inspecting a new section. A small, singular bubble arose from the outside seam. Then, after about a full second, another. “There’s your problem.” He lifted the inner tube out of the water, locating the spot on the inner tube that was leaking. “That’s about ten inches to the right of the valve. Now…” - he lifted the tire rubber - “…if we inspect the tire in that location, we might find something.” He looked closely at the tire, noticing a small hole right where he had predicted. “Aha. It must be embedded here.” Looking at the inside, he saw a small wire sticking out. I explained I had seen one just like that yesterday morning that I had removed, saying I had checked the entire inside of the tire. “Well, then it’s your technique too. You have to inspect the outside. It might not be visible from the inside – the wire could have broken off or something after puncturing your tube. But there might still be some in the tire, which, when under pressure, could pop your next tube too. Always check the outside.” After removing the troublesome piece, he did just that, looking around the tire for other issues. He found two more such wires, digging them out with a razor blade and pliers. “I think that’s all of them. You’re welcome to check yourself. It IS possible I missed one.” I looked, but couldn’t see any more. In fact, I didn’t think I could have found the ones he did. I considered replacing the tire completely, but decided to trust the mechanic’s workmanship. He seemed to know what he was doing, and he reassured me that while there were only a handful of shops between Chambersburg and Pittsburgh, there would be one practically every ten miles on my way to Philadelphia. I had him insert a new tube, and watched as he worked. Other than failing to inspect the outside as well as the inside of the tire, I hadn’t been installing the spares incorrectly. I was impressed that he was able to get the tire rubber back in using just his hands – no tire levers needed. I got two additional spares and a new patch kit and paid up.

He commented that I must have the most pack of any touring cyclist he’s seen. He told me about one guy who came through who only had a foldable tent, one spare set of clothing, one bottle of water, his wallet, and a jar of peanut butter. I’m not like that guy. That’s psycho. Winter is coming, so I need a sleeping bag, a warm one. I need warm clothes. I rather prefer having toilet paper with me. I burn easily, so sunscreen and chapstick are important. I need bike tools like an allen wrench, bike lube, tire levers, and patches. I drink a hell of a lot of water, and I like to keep some in reserve in case I get close to running out. And sure, I do have a few luxury items like my cookware set, but that made a huge difference to me yesterday with hot chocolate and warm food in the evening. Yes, I could pack lighter by not bringing the cookware, skipping the electronics, leaning down my bike equipment and spare clothing… but then my quality of life would noticeably go down, and I’d have way less fun. So yeah, I pack a lot, but it has all been rationalized. I really can’t imagine this trip with much less. I used the restroom there before I left, but then quickly made my way out of town.

It was clear there wasn’t much in Chamberstown, so I didn’t wait around. I hit route 30, pushing on towards Cashtown and Gettysburg. On the way, I crossed the Appalachian Trail (AT) and ate the Philly Cheesesteak I had received yesterday. I imagined what it would have been like as a Confederate soldier to have marched that route to battle. I had read the entire Wikipedia article for the Gettysburg campaign and the battle at Gettysburg to know what the troop movements had been in the days leading up to it, and the events that transpired on those fateful days.

On the way, I was shaken from my solemn mood by a bright colorful sign that advertised ‘MISTER ED’S ELEPHANT MUSEUM AND CANDY EMPORIUM.’ I *had* to go there. How could I afford to miss the elephant museum, after all? I went up Old Route 30 to the driveway, then walked my bike over the smoothed gravel to lean it against a bench in the courtyard. The groundskeeper introduced himself (unfortunately I forget his name), and said it was okay for me to leave it there. He asked where I had come from and if he could get a picture of me to show the owners of the shop. I obliged.

The grounds were small, but lavishly adorned in harvest and Halloween décor. The walkways were of raked crushed beige gravel, and were lined with mini pumpkins. A smattering of fall-colored fallen leaves lay everywhere, and small wooden benches were available for customers to eat their candy. In the middle of the small courtyard was a gigantic, full-size elephant sculpture wearing a sign that read ‘Miss Ele.’ It was painted white all over, except it had rosy pink cheeks, pink toenails, pink eyes, and pink ears. She was surrounded by mini pumpkins.

The entryway to the store was also lined with the mini pumpkins. I went in, and was taken aback by the shear absurdity of the interior. There was a gigantic gray elephant rearing its tusks toward a painted blue ceiling, hundreds of stuffed animal elephants (though none that looked like Elephanto, my favorite childhood stuffed animal), thousands of elephant figurines and models, elephant-themed greeting cards, and a quote on the wall that read “When entertaining in public, it is best to have an elephant.” – P.T. Barnum. There were a lot of elephants. There was also candy, including a full collection of PEZ dispensers, barrels of taffy, jelly beans, and gummies. There were racks of classics as well as imported candies, a fridge full of pop including more of the cherry soda I had the other day, and a glass showcase full of fudge and ornamented chocolates and truffles. I purchased a package of Toffifay, a bottle of cherry soda, and three of the chocolates: one chocolate caramel, one chocolate hazelnut, and one chocolate raspberry. I liked the raspberry one best, naturally. But I was mainly there for the elephants. They have this immense collection of over 12,000 elephant models in a gigantic room with showcases. I looked, but I couldn’t find the silver elephant I have at home that Grandpa brought back from India.

I sat outside by my bike and ate all the candy I had purchased, then found a trashcan to throw away the wrappers and bottle, and was on my way. I crested the hill and rode through Cashtown, then over the plains towards Gettysburg. I had a decent tailwind, so went in high gear (3,8) all the way to the battlefield. The first thing I saw is a small white monument marking where the first shot of the battle is believed by some to have been fired. Of course, there is some question about this, as multiple union soldiers claim to have fired first.

There are many important people and divisions who have memorials at Gettysburg. Describing them all to sufficient depth would require encyclopedic knowledge and fill textbooks. I learned a lot about the history of the battle by visiting the site and reading the memorials, but I cannot possibly do them justice here. I encourage you to read up on it yourself.

But to summarize, the Battle of Gettysburg was fought over three days: July 1, 2, and 3, 1863. The Confederate commander was Robert E. Lee, and under him were Longstreet, Hill, Ewell, and Stuart. The Union commander was George G. Meade (who had only just days prior taken command of the Army of the Potomac), and under him were Reynolds, Hancock, Sykes, Sedgewick, Sickles, Howard, Slocum, Tyler, Hunt, and Pleasonton. The two armies met in Gettysburg, with Union cavalry guarding the northwest of the town until infantry arrived from the east to back them up. Under heavy losses, Union soldiers were pushed back from the ridges to the northwest, fleeing through Gettysburg to the hills and ridges to the south east. They positioned themselves on the high ground of Culp’s Hill, Cemetery Hill, and Cemetery Ridge, as well as Little Round Top to the south. The battle continued for two days, with fierce fighting in the fields between the two armies. The Union took massive losses, but held their defensive line. On the last day of the battle, Lee ordered a dramatic infantry assault on the center of the Union line – known as Pickett’s Charge – which sent some 12,000 Confederate soldiers across an almost mile long field into Union musket and artillery fire, leading many to their deaths. On July 4th, the Confederate army withdrew, retreating south via Hagerstown. Gettysburg was the single bloodiest battle not just of the Civil War, but of US history, with around 50,000 soldiers left as casualties, either killed, wounded, or missing. It was a strategic victory for the Union, because it undermined the entire purpose of Lee’s Gettysburg campaign, which was to destroy the Union army and threaten northern cities, thus forcing Lincoln’s hand to end the war and allow the Confederate States of America to continue as an independent nation. But with the loss at Gettysburg and the Confederate army fleeing south, Gettysburg was the turning point of the war. The war would rage on for two more years, and while the Confederates did still win some battles, did not make any offensives of their own. And it was at Gettysburg that Lincoln gave his famously brief address laying to rest those that died here such that the nation may live on.

From the ‘First Shot Fired’ memorial, I went to the Memorial Gardens, and after that to the small visitor booth where I picked up a map of the battleground and saw the memorial for Buford. He was the Union officer who selected Gettysburg as the field of battle and positioned the cavalry in defense of the town while awaiting Union infantry support. The memorial is also notable because it includes the first Union cannon that was shot of the battle.

The memorials at Gettysburg are of three types: those of individual leaders, those for divisions and brigades of troops, and those that describe the events – and losses - that each brigade experienced over the course of the three days of the battle. I followed the 24-mile auto tour by bicycle, stopping to read each sign. Not to diminish the significance of their experience, but you do end up reading very similar descriptions each time. Nevertheless, it gives you a sense of when each troop arrived, and how they each saw the battle. The losses were staggering. I thought about them each as people, having known each other, perhaps grown up together, and then to be cut down in the line of battle. It’s altogether too easy to just see the numbers, but even those are horrifying.

I saw the Peace Memorial, Barlow Knoll, the Gettysburg train station, David Wills’ house, several shops selling battle artifacts and relics, McMillan Woods, the North Carolina, Virginia, Florida, Tennessee, and Louisiana memorials, and Pitzer Woods. The Virginia memorial is significant not just for the massive statue of General Lee, but for the view of the field over which Pickett’s charge occurred. It’s a long field. Mama was telling me just how suicidal a run like that would be, and that she questioned Lee’s military genius as a result. I argued that Confederate artillery had bombarded the Union positions for some two hours before the assault was ordered, and that some believed that Union artillery had been knocked out when they didn’t return fire. Looking at some of Lee’s other upset victories, like that at Chancellorsville, you could perhaps see that he may have been overconfident in the ability of his men to turn the tide of even seemingly impossible odds. Nevertheless, with perfect hindsight, it’s clear Lee should have listened to Longstreet, who vehemently objected to the assault. Further, Confederate artillery had in many cases run out of shot, and could not help cover the charge, instead having to withdraw early. In the end, it was a disastrous decision that effectively routed the Confederate army.

And as the sun was getting low on the horizon, I saw Longstreet’s memorial. That man was a force of nature. I want to learn more about him.

I then left the battlefield via Millerstown Rd, wanting to get as far as I could from the fields where so much blood was spilled. It would feel incredibly improper for me to hoist my tent too near, so I took off, covering ground back to the west quickly. The person I had reached out to on Warmshowers had never gotten back to me. I found a few spots that might have worked, but was warned by a lady driving by that the rich landowners around here don’t take kindly to trespassers. She saw my bags and inferred my intentions to find a stealth campground in the area. I used the “I’m lost” excuse and had her point me back to Route 15. It was night by now, and I could see the planets overhead: Jupiter, Saturn, and to the west, Venus. The moon was nearly full, and helped illuminate the way. I went to an RV campground but saw the office lights were out. I tried calling, but it just went to voicemail. A dog barked by an RV, and I moved away, not wanting to wake the whole neighborhood. I called around for other camping sites, but they were all closed for the night. Running out of options, I checked nearby motels, and found a cheap one just up the street at Red Carpet Inn. I called ahead, and found they had one non-smoking vacancy left, and asked that they hold it for me.

When I got in, I was placed in Room 116. The sheets were clean but the rest of the room was dinghy. There were only two lamps to illuminate the whole room, and the outlets were so loose that my plugs kept falling out. I pulled my bike in, used the restroom, ate a sandwich for dinner with the mustard and mayo packets the gas station guy gave me yesterday, and quickly got on Zoom to call Mama. We discussed Pickett’s charge. After the call, I opened up YouTube and started to watch a Steve Mould video on the chain effect. But I never finished it. I fell asleep about seven minutes in, only waking around 5 am the next morning to realize I was still fully clothed and the lamps were still both on.