Cycling accident hits home
The news was shocking and sad.
A cyclist was killed and her husband seriously injured when a boulder rolled onto the Great Allegheny Passage trail near Connellsville and landed on them. Drone shots from the aftermath show the trail blocked by debris that slid down the steep wall that lines the path.
An investigation may answer the questions we all share: What loosened that thousand-pound rock? Did it fall so quickly that the couple couldn’t stop or evade it in time?
And why did this have to happen to people who were, as we like to say, living their best lives, enjoying one of our area’s outdoor treasures?
That awful accident hits hard for many of us who ride the GAP and other trails around town. My friend and I did two days and lots of miles on the trail last week, passing close to where the landslide happened. In my years of cycling, I’ve often ridden through that spot; I can picture it, with the Yough River on one side and the rocky wall on the other.
What happened to the woman and her husband was devastating, the very worst example of what can occur when one is traveling through what is, for many stretches, the wilderness. The landslide is a reminder of the often-unpredictable power of nature, and the inherent danger of riding a bike.
Last week, my high school friend and her husband were riding the GAP on the downhill approach to Cumberland, Maryland, when she lost control of her e-bike and crashed. She landed on her wrist, breaking it badly enough to require surgery. While she doesn’t know how it happened (she’s an experienced rider), it’s possible that small debris may have been a factor.
Wet leaves are like ice, and black walnuts and even acorns can trip a tire. My worst crash happened years ago on the Montour Trail, when I hit a patch of mud — also like ice; similarly, sand can cause the back wheel to falter and topple the bike.
This time of year, the deer are rutting. A large doe once jumped into my path, crossing just behind me. Squirrels don’t look both ways, either.
While the weather has been perfect for riding, the afternoon sun begins to drop by 3 o’clock, rolling into my line of vision and making a blind spot 50 feet ahead. Yesterday, that spot blinded an oncoming cyclist. I had to veer off the trail to get out of her way.
Years ago, I decided to stop riding on roads. Distracted and impatient drivers, not to mention potholes, make a road ride just too dangerous. A ride on a trail, away from cars, will always be safer.
Safer, but not completely without pitfalls and perils. Two years ago, I sustained a serious leg infection; I traced it to a brown recluse spider that bit me while I was resting on an old wooden trailside bench.
I’ve developed a respect for the trails, for the capricious nature of nature — as well as for the quirks of the trail surface and my own limitations as a cyclist.
News of the landslide came just days after my friend crashed and broke her hand, two events that made me anxious about doing my daily trail ride. While I’ve always known that accidents can happen, the severity of these had a chilling effect.
I took a day off, but then got back on my bike. As I rode, I thought about my friend whose injury will make her miss this perfect fall riding weather.
And I thought about that couple who were abruptly stopped by nature. So cruelly stopped.