We're just outside of Cumberland, Md. on a secluded hillside staying
with Teddy Griese and her husband Frank. Teddy's son Derrick is a student of mine and he insisted that we stay with his mom on our journey through Cumberland. We are so pleased that we did. Last night, Frank met us downtown at the old railroad depot where the C and O ends and drove us to their house in this beautiful green valley. We are in incredibly beautiful country. Teddy and Frank have fed us well and Frank has taught us about much of the local history and culture and we feel very fortunate to have met them and shared an evening of laughter in their house.All the way up the C and O canal trail, I have seen the remnants of Irish workers. Catholic churches such as St. Peter's in Harper's Fe
rry, WV stand tall in every canal town. The stone aqueducts that carried the canal over the tributaries, with beautiful
arches, let us know about the masonry skills of the immigrants. More than anything else, though, the Paw Paw tunnel south of Cumberland, about 2/3 of a mile long, will stay with me. We walked our bicycle through the entire canal, admiring the millions of bricks that form its interior arch.......and wondering about the work and the men who built it. They thought they could do it in 4 years, but i
t took them 22. As we approached the tunnel entrance, an adolescent boy greeted us wearing a straw hat. For a second, I thought he must have been a ghost from the 19th century as he yelled, "It's dark in there!" Boys worked the entrances of the tunnels, hanging lanterns to alert incoming boats that the narrow tunnel was "occupied." We passed many bicyclists and children on hikes,
mostly quiet in reverence to this incredible experience. My reverence was for the workers, I could almost feel their hands on each brick as we walked, could feel each blast, each worker walkout, each inter-ethnic fight. My radar for the history of the Irish in America has widened on this trip. Immigrant workers leave a
different kind of signature. Instead of portraits or journals, they leave the structures shaped by their backs and hands. The C and O is haunted by their voices, working in the isolation of 19th century appalachia, slapping the mosquitoes, blasting rock. As we ride, I offer my sweat to them in a humble show of solidarity.At the railroad town of Paw Paw, I had the bad idea to take hwy. 51 to Cumberland instead of the towpath trail. We had heard that the section between Paw Paw and Cumberland is bad and the road on the map didn't appear to wander far from the river. We quickly learned that we were in for serious hills, very steep, and when we desce
nded back to the river 5 miles later, we were both very happy to get back on the trail, which we took all the way to Cumberland. Halfway there, we stopped at a popular fishing hole along the canal and talked with some of the families out fishing. It was a quiet and peaceful place bathing in the laughter of children. Gabriela took pictures. We said our goodbyes to the C and O canal towpath.
with Teddy Griese and her husband Frank. Teddy's son Derrick is a student of mine and he insisted that we stay with his mom on our journey through Cumberland. We are so pleased that we did. Last night, Frank met us downtown at the old railroad depot where the C and O ends and drove us to their house in this beautiful green valley. We are in incredibly beautiful country. Teddy and Frank have fed us well and Frank has taught us about much of the local history and culture and we feel very fortunate to have met them and shared an evening of laughter in their house.All the way up the C and O canal trail, I have seen the remnants of Irish workers. Catholic churches such as St. Peter's in Harper's Fe
rry, WV stand tall in every canal town. The stone aqueducts that carried the canal over the tributaries, with beautiful 
arches, let us know about the masonry skills of the immigrants. More than anything else, though, the Paw Paw tunnel south of Cumberland, about 2/3 of a mile long, will stay with me. We walked our bicycle through the entire canal, admiring the millions of bricks that form its interior arch.......and wondering about the work and the men who built it. They thought they could do it in 4 years, but i
t took them 22. As we approached the tunnel entrance, an adolescent boy greeted us wearing a straw hat. For a second, I thought he must have been a ghost from the 19th century as he yelled, "It's dark in there!" Boys worked the entrances of the tunnels, hanging lanterns to alert incoming boats that the narrow tunnel was "occupied." We passed many bicyclists and children on hikes, 
mostly quiet in reverence to this incredible experience. My reverence was for the workers, I could almost feel their hands on each brick as we walked, could feel each blast, each worker walkout, each inter-ethnic fight. My radar for the history of the Irish in America has widened on this trip. Immigrant workers leave a
different kind of signature. Instead of portraits or journals, they leave the structures shaped by their backs and hands. The C and O is haunted by their voices, working in the isolation of 19th century appalachia, slapping the mosquitoes, blasting rock. As we ride, I offer my sweat to them in a humble show of solidarity.At the railroad town of Paw Paw, I had the bad idea to take hwy. 51 to Cumberland instead of the towpath trail. We had heard that the section between Paw Paw and Cumberland is bad and the road on the map didn't appear to wander far from the river. We quickly learned that we were in for serious hills, very steep, and when we desce
nded back to the river 5 miles later, we were both very happy to get back on the trail, which we took all the way to Cumberland. Halfway there, we stopped at a popular fishing hole along the canal and talked with some of the families out fishing. It was a quiet and peaceful place bathing in the laughter of children. Gabriela took pictures. We said our goodbyes to the C and O canal towpath.
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