Eva Andersen - Canal Community Story

Over my years as a student at Georgetown University, I had gone on many runs up and down the lower sections of the C&O Canal Towpath many times, but I had never stopped to think about what this park actually was – where had it come from, who had created it, and who was stewarding it today? That is, until this past fall, when I took a class about the US National Park System. For one of our assignments, we were tasked to visit a local National Park, and create a photo essay about our experience there. As I looked around on the website of nearby NPS properties, I was surprised to see a familiar name: the C&O Canal National Historical Park.

The Canal’s history, as I soon discovered from my research, was fascinating. Not only was its construction an incredible feat of engineering for the time, but the park had endured so much – fierce competition with a rival railroad, years of neglect after the C&O Canal company went out of business, and a passionate campaign to turn the space into a park instead of a parkway. This project ultimately influenced my decision to apply for an internship with the C&O Canal Trust. I was so happy to be welcomed into a team of others who are passionate about parks, and all of the benefits that they bring to local communities – rest, exercise, connection, curiosity, and peace. Still, my understanding of the park felt limited by the small section I had actually seen. My coworkers talked about their trips biking along the Towpath, and I couldn’t help but want to experience it for myself. I had never biked more than around 25 miles before – 184.5 miles felt incredibly daunting.

Despite some nerves, I decided to give it a go. I began my trip in Cumberland, on a misty morning in early April. The park was quiet. Just me, my bike, and the 77 miles I had to cover that day stretched out before me. I took my time, my head scanning from side to side to take in the stark white-trunked sycamore trees that graced the top of the tree canopy, the lush carpets of Virginia bluebells that blanketed the forest floor, and the glistening Potomac River weaving and winding to my right.

The first day went by in a blur. In the evening, my friend joined me to stay the night at Lockhouse 49, just a few miles from Williamsport. We scarfed down beans and rice, exhausted yet content from the long day of riding. We spent the evening chatting, exploring the house from top to bottom, and pouring over the notes that others had left behind in the guest book.

In the morning, we said our goodbyes to the Lockhouse, and set out for the day, making stops in Williamsport and Sharpsburg. It was incredible to watch the subtle changes in the landscape from mile to mile. The trees were beginning to leaf out, with bright green shoots poking out tentatively from the buds. Mile by mile, the canopy of green seemed to emerge and thicken a little more. After a long day in the heat, we settled down in historic Harper’s Ferry for the night. We were both exhausted, but happy to be exploring a new place together.

The final day – Harper’s Ferry to Georgetown – was cold and rainy. I bid my friend goodbye as she hopped on the train back to DC, and prepared myself to undertake the final stretch. My body was sore. My things were immediately soaked. It was the hardest day by far, both physically and mentally. As I approached Mile Marker 0, the rain finally began to clear and the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, as if the sky were congratulating me for finishing the ride.

At the finish line, I was filled with pride. A few months ago, I would have never even conceived of doing a trip like this, and now I had explored an entire park from end to end. Ultimately, this trip would never have been possible without being implored to learn about the history of my local park. If I hadn’t delved into the history of the space around me, I would have never landed an internship with the Trust that I’ve learned so much from, or completed a trip that has further cultivated my love for parks. Although my time interning with the Trust will be temporary, the experiences I’ve had will endure. Stay curious about the places, people, and the history of your neighborhood – you never know what you may find!