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I had the unique experience of enjoying both kinds recently. As you may remember I shared with you in the spring some of my experiences while biking the Great Allegheny Passage. The trail has been created for biking, hiking and horseback riding from the former Western Maryland railroad right of way. Right now, it extends from Meyersdale, Somerset County, to McKeesport, Allegheny County. Ultimately it will be extended to Pittsburgh on the west and Cumberland, Md., on the east. At Cumberland the trail will join the C&O Canal Towpath, which goes 184 miles to Washington, D.C.

Last spring I began to ride the trail in segments. I wanted to learn more of the natural history of the landscapes along the path. I do admit, however, that ever since I wobbled down Harvard Avenue in West View, Allegheny County, on my inaugural bike ride I have loved that mode of travel, and the Great Allegheny Passage gives me a chance to follow both my passions, natural history and biking.

After my initial excursion last April from Meyersdale to Lick Run and back, I have ridden all of the Great Allegheny Passage. The more I rode, the more I enjoyed the trail, and the more I learned about the natural history of the region. A ride from Dawson to West Newton one spring morning was one of the best birding days I had this season. A midsummer bike ride from Confluence to Connellsville, the majority of which is in Ohiopyle State Park, was a study in the grandeur of the forests that clothe the slopes of the Youghiogheny Gorge where it cuts through Laurel and Chestnut Ridges.

After piecemeal experiences with splendid wildflowers, bird-song-filled mornings, chance encounters with wildlife, ancient geology, and the nearly constant company of lively rivers, I decided that I needed to do the whole trail in one trip. The 100 miles from Meyersdale to McKeesport was too much for one day at my plodding stop-and-look, pace, so I planned the outing for a two-day fall weekend — hopefully at the peak of the autumn color.

I expected to learn more about the natural history I was introduced to on other trips, but what ended up dominating this outing was a sense of the changes that fall can bring.

The trip began on a mild, early fall morning. A soft fog swirled over the restored train station at Meyersdale and caught on the slopes of Allegheny Mountain to the east. While crossing the Salisbury Viaduct the wind turbines at Garret looked like pointy ghosts in the hovering mist. Beyond Garret, the Casselman River began to sing as it and the trail probed the wilder lands where the hand of humans is sparingly found.

Fall was evident in the changing forests. Trees festooned with gaudy leaves of yellow, red, purple and orange leaned over the path, and their companions colored the valley slopes. The multihued glory of the season wasn’t at its peak, and the cloak of mist and low clouds muted the color of the canopy. But the testimony of a coming transformation was clearly apparent.

The soft hiss of the tires on the fine rock surface was now and then replaced by the crunch and rattle of leaves that covered the trail. Past Rockwood and skirting Markleton, I thought about the transition of the forest from summer green to calico autumn to monotone winter, and how it would end in just a few weeks.

I was past Fort Hill and on to Confluence and the juncture of the Youghiogheny by midday. The rivers were swift and robust, a result of recent rains that returned after the dry summer. The Casselman was formidable, but by giving its water, along with Laurel Hill Creek, to the Youghiogheny, it gave birth to an even more potent river. When the Casselman sings, the Youghiogheny roars.

From Confluence, the Great Allegheny Passage trail enters Ohiopyle State Park. Here the forests are stunning. The steep hillsides are clothed with communities that have been allowed to be — just simply forests. As the trees are allowed to naturally mature, the magnificence of old growth forest will grow with them. The maturation of the forest takes longer than our lifetime. We will not live as long as the oaks, sugar maple, hemlock, hickories, basswood, and others of the woodland. But they will fashion an arboreal sanctuary through which the trail will be an aisle to be ridden in quiet awe.

Ohiopyle was my destination for the first day. With 40 miles behind me, and a thousand images and thoughts fixed in my mind, a quiet evening and soft bed were particularly welcome.

Early Sunday morning in Ohiopyle the weather was much the same as the day before. The town was quiet in the mist, and again the color of the leaves was soft and subdued. Back on the Great Allegheny Passage trail, I looked forward to another day of searching for changes.

At Ohiopyle, the Youghiogheny makes a sweeping loop around Ferncliff Peninsula, but the trail shortcuts across the base of the peninsula. The first bridge over the Yough is close to the water. The second bridge, less than a mile away, crosses the river again, but this time the foaming waters are far below. The river drops nearly 90 feet, over Ohiopyle Falls and through several major rapids, in less than two miles. The view from the high bridge is spectacular. Upstream and down the Yough surges through the deep narrow gorge on its way out of the mountains.

From there the path heads toward Chestnut Ridge, the most westerly of the Allegheny Mountains. Along the trail, tulip trees grow arrow straight in what sometimes appears to be a tall, living picket fence. The stately trees are slowly building a living tunnel, changing the trail from sun drenched to shade. The trees are a reminder of another change, the recovery of natural vegetation when human management ceases. When the railroad followed this path the right of way was trimmed and the trees kept at bay in the name of safety.

Once the trains were gone, the trees quickly seized the opportunity to fill the gap. Most of the tulip trees along the sides of the path are about the same size, marks of the railroad abandonment more than 30 years ago.

Following the winding route of the river, the trail passes deeply cut side valleys with tumbling streams and miniature waterfalls. There was a constant temptation to stop since it seemed that these places were just asking to be explored on foot. The dark stands of rhododendron had a mysterious air, and I was sure that beyond the most distant bend were marvelous wonders waiting to be found.

But I had an objective on this ride, and I needed to keep a schedule.

From Ohiopyle State Park the Great Allegheny Passage rolls out of the mountains and through Connellsville, Fayette County. Beyond, the trail continues to follow the Youghiogheny, but in a different landscape. Past Dawson and through Whitsett the valley is less steep and the Youghiogheny a calmer, less boisterous river.

It was nearing Smithton that I experienced the most rapid change that fall can bring.

The western sky darkened considerably. Wind stirred the trees and tore the golden leaves from the branches, spinning them across the trail. Finally, rain came horizontally in sheets. The warmth of early fall was stripped from the air and quickly replaced with a keen chill. A cold front plowing from the northwest wrung the moisture from the air and flung it against the landscape with driving winds.

There are few places to go when fall turns quickly cold. I bowed my head, concentrated on the rotation of the pedals, and plowed on wishing the remaining miles would somehow be shortened.

But as quickly as the rain came, it passed. After a mile or two the last drops fell and the sky opened in a different way. Instead of pelting rain, I was wrapped in beaming sun. In a blink, fall changed from misty, soft and muted to clear, crisp, and brilliant. The temperature dropped several degrees, but the late afternoon sun streamed onto the trail and was warm.

Through Cedar Creek Park, West Newton, Sutersville and Buena Vista I rode. The day seemed like a whole new time, and the leaves, scrubbed clean by the rain, glistened full color in the sun.

At Boston I finished my trip with a whole new perspective on both the trail, which I have come to love over the past year, and the myriad of changes that autumn brings. Some changes are gradual, like the shortening of days or the incremental cooling that triggers birds to migrate and creatures to find shelter. Some changes are quicker, such as the change of the color of the leaves in the forest canopy. And some changes are rapid, like a thundering cold front that makes a day metamorphose in moments from soft and subdued to hard and brilliant.

Paul g. Wiegman is a freelance writer, photographer and naturalist born and raised in western Pennsylvania. Write to him c/o Tribune-Review, 622 Cabin Hill Drive, Greensburg, PA 15601; or e-mail him at pwiegman@ix.netcom.com.

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