Lochd out

Politics plague baltimore’s trail sanctuary

- Brett smith

LESS THAN A DOZEN MILES FROM THE EPICENTER OF BALTImore’s nationally known chaos–344 homicides in 2015, riots, dirt bike gangs–there is absolute peace. White-tailed deer run gracefully, Canada geese waddle at the water’s edge and pileated woodpeckers drum on trees. The hum of the Baltimore Beltway is 3 miles away, but it doesn’t penetrate the 5,600 acres of dense forest surrounding Loch Raven Reservoir, the drinking water supply for people in Baltimore and its surrounding counties. For mountain bikers living in and north of the City of Baltimore, it’s the closest and most convenient rural escape, a sanctuary for local pros like Marla Streb, who rides there from her home, and six-time 24-hour Solo World Champion Chris Eatough, who trained at Loch Raven when he lived in nearby Fallston, Maryland.

Trail quality and layout varies from insufferably steep, rocky and root-laden to fast and flowing with long downhill switchbacks. In the spring and summer, several sections are postcard perfect, like a strand of brown yarn dropped into a bed of green ground cover. Other parts look and feel like they haven’t been maintained since The Harding Administration. In fact, building foundations from that era are still visible because small towns like Warren, Sweet Air and Bosley were sunk in the interest of the water project. What has evolved over the last century is a spider web of dirt chutes and spurs jutting off the main forest roads leading down to the water’s edge or to scenic points of view. Navigating the trails is like reading a “Choose Your Own Adventure” novel–those unfamiliar with the layout will end up confused or lost, but knowledgeable riders can string together infinite possibilities. It’s easy to see why Eatough trained at Loch Raven; 6 miles of riding can yield 1,000 feet of elevation gain on land that ranges from 100 feet above sea level to barely over 500 feet.