4 days ago
Nature Reclaimed This Industrial Canal Near D.C.—and Travelers Are All the Happier For It
As a piece of revolutionary infrastructure, the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal failed miserably. Following the Potomac River for 184.5 miles, from Washington, D.C., to Cumberland, Md., the waterway was meant to connect growers and manufacturers in the American heartland with the ports of the East Coast. Mules would tow barges along its length, traversing 74 state-of-the-art canal locks along the way. It was a good idea—except by the time the canal opened to commerce in 1850, a better one had come along: trains.
Luckily, the C&O's story didn't end with its technological obsolescence. Today the mules may be gone, but the canal and its towpath serve as a byway into the nation's past, an invitation to runners, bikers, hikers and lovers of history to explore beyond their own backyards. As Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas, who in 1954 organized a walk along the canal to save it from being turned into a parkway once put it, the C&O is 'a refuge, a place of retreat, a long stretch of quiet and peace at the Capitol's back door.'
Over the seven years I've lived in the capital, I've often found my own sliver of peace and quiet along the canal. Just last month, I decided to set out on an overnight backpacking trip with two of my children, aged nine and 12. With a gentle grade (heading west, it gains a mere 605 feet over its entire length) and easily navigable layout, the canal is the ideal place to introduce kids to the outdoors.
Over the course of a day on the trail, turtles, snakes and a particularly majestic great blue heron kept us company. We spent the night at one of the canal's 31 unfussy 'hiker-biker' campsites, which are first-come, first-served—and free. As hot dogs sizzled on the grill, a violet sunset skimmed the Monocacy River, near where the Confederate general Jubal Early invaded Maryland in the summer of 1864. The next morning, my kids set off ahead of me. With no cars to worry about, and only a single path to follow, I didn't fret when they disappeared out of sight. I found them a couple of miles later, kicking back on their camp chairs, chatting to a woman out on a morning stroll.
While some hikers and bikers set out to traverse the whole canal, most visitors find it easiest to explore on day trips from its starting point in the tony Washington neighborhood of Georgetown.
For a quick trip, rent a bike at the Trek Bicycle store on M Street, and ride 6 miles to the Irish Inn at Glen Echo, a charming traditional pub full of warmth and free of kitsch. For those willing to venture a little farther, 5.5 more miles along the trail brings you past the 101-foot-tall Cabin John Aqueduct Bridge, once the longest single-span arch in the world, to Old Anglers Inn, a worthy lunch stop. Afterward, meander over to Great Falls, where the Potomac roars down a 76-foot precipice. Mere steps away from the thundering river, the canal trickles on.
Two weeks after my adventure with my kids, I hatched a plan to draw my wife, averse to all things backpacking, out for a family trip on the canal. My winning argument? A room with a view of the Potomac—and air conditioning—at the Bavarian Inn, a faithfully Teutonic compound on a hill above the trail, in Shepherdstown, We rode bikes along the canal, explored nearby historical sites like the Antietam National Battlefield in Sharpsburg, Md., shopped along Shepherdstown's lovely German Street and sampled local beers.
One night, as I read on our balcony overlooking a magisterial bend in the Potomac, I spotted a rat snake coiled at my feet. The tranquility may have been momentarily shattered, but I found the (thankfully brief) intrusion of the natural world not entirely unwelcome.
The next day, when my wife took the kids up the hill from the towpath for ice cream in Williamsport, Md., I took our kayak out on the canal. Though the canal is dry in places, several stretches still make for idyllic paddling. Turtles dove at my approach. Children called out from the towpath, asking for rides. Seeing me on the water, a fisherman on the shoreline decided to give his fancy new kayak—equipped with an outboard motor—a spin. Soon, he was out on the water too, a big smile on his face.
'I personally find that there are always new things to explore and learn about the park and its history and natural resources,' said Lauren Riviello, who grew up riding her bike along Lock 38, one of the imposing stone channels that helped boats overcome the effects of gravity. For travelers along the canal, the locks are both waypoints and treasure troves of lore. Grover Cleveland was said to be a particular fan of Lock 22, known as the Pennyfield Lock, where the surrounding landscape is especially bucolic. When I visited one afternoon with my son, we were alone but for one fisherman who proudly displayed the enormous catfish he'd just caught.
Today, Riviello heads the C&O Canal Trust, which helps the National Park Service raise funds for the trail's upkeep. The trust also runs the Canal Quarters program, which opens seven historic lockhouses—where lock operators lived—for overnight stays.
I haven't yet stayed at one of the lockhouses (reservations can be difficult to come by). Nor have I traversed the Paw Paw Tunnel, a 3,118-foot-long passage through steep terrain that took 14 years to build and is rumored to be haunted. I'll file those destinations away as just two of the many reasons to keep coming back to the canal.
