Last day on the trail

 Rolled out of Scotia Arrowhead marina and campground at 10:06.  Easy enough along a paved trail until it ended in Schenectady where I was back on the road using my wits as I wove through town looking for the continuation of the trail.  The compass, gps and paper map finally brought me to the trail.  Trying to meet up with Betsy was an act of futility.   For lack of signs we kept missing each other.  Finally I gave an intersection on a side roads where I parked until she could find me.  After lunch outside of a business that did  NASA missile work, I road the final six miles on a street leading into Albany.  Even the ending point was impossible to find. This included short stretch of path that dead ended onto grass located on a large apartment complex; insult to injury. With a little finesse Betsy and I rendezvoused at a riverside park in downtown.? I disassembled part of my bike and reorganized the packing of her car to accommodate two bikes, all my gear plus her stuff.  We made it work.  We drove south to Schodack State Park where we set up camp before heading back to Albany to have a celebratory dinner at a nice English style pub.
    All in all, the Erie Canal ride was a wonderful ride when on the trail but  poor directions and an incomplete route made for many frustrating moments.  Someday this canal ride will be a breeze for the average bicyclist as well as a money maker for this economically depressed area.

Charming ride over a paved trail

   Leaving the St Johnsville marina and campsite at 9:48 was the beginning of a pleasant ride through the countryside as it followed the canal.  A former rail line cut through stone made up the trail with old mileage markers showing the distance to New York. Betsy went ahead as I clicked off the miles.  Thinking she was well ahead of me, I spotted her unloading her bike much to her surprise. Instead of her riding towards me as planned we rode away from her car for about three miles.  She backtracked to her car and road ahead to lock ten when I spotted her again.  We sat by the lock by a flock of geese watching small pleasure boats and long freight trains pass by.  We bought food the night before which we ate for lunch, which included cheese, sausage, chips, crackers, apples and Gatorade. Out in the sun slightly shadowed by her car, we had a very pleasant mid day break.
     Back on my bicycle again for the next seven miles brought me to a marina campsite in Scotia, a beautiful setting to spend the night.  Betsy drove to find food and beverage for a pre-dinner
cocktails and chill down.  In Amsterdam we found  the ‘Tap Room’ where we dined in moderate style.  Nice town with more going on than we had seen for the past several days.  With trains passing constantly and interstate 90 humming, we sank into a semi restful sleep.

nice ride but still poor signage.

     Sleeping at lock 20, Betsy and I had the place to ourselves.  Shortly after waking up, a tug towing dredging pipe arrived at the lock.  We watched the entire lock process of lowering the tug and barges to the water level below. Huge gears turned, gates swung closed, valves opened and down went the tug. It took all of twenty minutes; then off the vessel went down the canal.  The process was so simple,  thousands of gallons of water moved in so little time, amazing.
    At 10:33, I rode down the trail for a mile before having to exit onto route 5.  Not a lot of traffic but only a four foot shoulder and fast moving vehicles.  I am a veteran of these roads but riders who only bargained for a safe trail, it would be very scary.  After I reconnected with the Trail, Betsy met me on two separate occasions riding her bike towards me and the two of us riding back to her car.  I can see she is determined but starting off slow and easy is the best way to keep her interested. Later she found a nice campsite smack on the canal for only $10 a night.  In trying to get to the marina campsite, I over shot it while riding along the trail because there was no turn off to get me to the other side of the canal.  In all I have probably ridden twenty miles making up for wrong turns. It is maddening, a mile is a long way.
     Once at the site, we threw up the tent, laid out the sleeping bags,  pumped up the mattresses and arranged all our gear.  Betsy has done extensive camping which is a major plus in terms of getting her into long distance cycling. She even went out and round up some IPA beer, cheese and sausage for pre-dinner cocktails.  After I cleaned up we set off to find a locally eatery, no such luck.  Upstate New York is depressed with little in the way of luxury.  A supermarket was are only option after driving ten miles.   We dined in the tent and an hour later cash in our chips for a good nights sleep. Four nights of camp and all is going smoothly.   The trail of a better, more continuous runs on pavement but the directions are appallingly bad.
     

Beautiful riding, Betsy’s first day

  Departed Green Lake State Park at 9:14, Betsy in her car me on my bicycletta.   For over an hour, the trail hugged the old canal. With each mile, there lies the abandon canal silted up with fallen trees everywhere giving a saddened look to past times of glory.  Sections were walled off with concrete with stagnant water layered with green algae.  Someday soon I hope an effort will be made to restorer this important part of our country’s history.  Restore it and the people will come.  All it takes is money!
    Betsy and I rendezvoused in Canastota, fourteen miles down the road.  She found this restaurant, The Toast, where everything was divinely delicious and all homemade.  This place is not to be missed; we ate like gods.  11:05 I rode on to meet up with Betsy in Rome. The plan was for her to park at the end of the canal where it entered Rome and ride towards me for three miles, join up for the ride back to her parked car.  It was not to be.  The city had inadequately labeled the route through the city thus leaving Betsy justifiably confused and intimidated by the traffic. The locals were clueless as to the trail and sent her to the wrong location . With no city riding experience she made the wise decision to stay put and wait for my arrival.  The connecting road through Rome was  tense even for me.  Eventually I found her, frustrated and disappointed that she hadn’t been able to ride with me.  Trial by fire and Murphy’s law all in one.  Gathering our composure we moved onto lock Twenty in Oriskany six miles down the road.  Free camping by the lock in a lush spread  of grass with barely a soul to be seen. Decompressing with drinks and chips in the tent followed by a brisk cold water bottle shower left me both relaxed and invigorated for our dinner out on the town.  Finding a restaurant was a challenge.  Pizza, beer and a lively talk with the seventy-two year old owner who had just opened his sports bar restaurant for business six weeks earlier. He had built the place himself.  Two younger men, the  owner  and the two of us had a fun time discussing health, life and whatever came up.  We kept a lid on the politics given that the area is depressed and predominantly Trump country.  Tomorrow, Betsy and I will straighten out the kinks and get in our first ride together.

A lazy day at the park

  Over night the wind howled over head accompanied by my passing thought that a tree might come crashing down on me.  The skies opened shortly afterwards.  Rain always making for a cozy situation in my tent but challenging to get in and out of without bringing in the water. It is an acquired skill.  Come morning, I hauled myself out of my shelter just enough to clean up and eat a few road rations for breakfast.  Having a day of rest and no central building to hang out in, I settled in again for a few more hours of rack time as I waited for the rain to stop.  Mid morning I rallied and bicycled over to  Fayetteville to have a proper meal at a village cafe. Betsy’s ETA was 12:30 so rather race back to the camp, I had her meet me in Fayetteville.  With bicycle and gear packed in her Prius, she arrived.  We were both so happy to see each other....”love actually”. We luncheoned and headed back to my site at the park; Betsy in her car and me on my bike. With big pickups and RVs surrounding us we stuck out with her Prius, my bicycle and one man tent.  After setting up  her six man tent, our increased structural mass provided our site with  a bit more legitimacy in the eyes of our neighbors. Sitting back in our collapsible chairs, we laid tomorrow’s route and strategy.  After an evening libation, Betsy and I drove to Chittenango and dined Mexican.  The wide sidewalks up and down the main Street  had a yellow brick pathway in the middle in keeping with the Wizard of Oz.  The author, L. Frank Baum, was born and raised in Chittenango.

A good day in Trump country

  With a full moon last night, I slept well but woke several times thinking it was sunrise.  Up at 7:00 and off by 9:10, it took a while to dry the tent after an incredible dew laden night.  It was good to be camping again.  The fresh air all around with no walls to confine me, something very refreshing about it.  Picking up the trail required a little help from a local bicyclist but once on the trail just outside of Weedsport, the route stayed uninterrupted until Syracuse.  The day was a charmer, perfect weather the whole way as I passed sections of the abandon original canal, “Clinton’s ditch”.  One town had a large garden planted in the part of a drained canal bed, a nice touch.   Before tackling my trek through Syracuse, I stopped at a local dairy convenience store for a mid morning breakfast.  Energy bars kept me charged for the first two hours of the ride.  Every so often in my travels I come across upscale local convenience stores; clean, well laid out and much more to offer than the standard convenience store fare.
    Upon reaching Syracuse, the trail end but unlike Rochester and yesterday’s labyrinth, there were street  signs marking the canal route through the city.  A little tricky to reconnect to the actual canal once I reached the eastern boarder of the city.  Green Lakes State Park showed up several more miles down the trail, where I checked in for two nights of camping. A beautiful park with all the modern amenities including a golf course, swimming area, restaurant and a good network of hiking trails. Tomorrow will be a day of rest while I wait for my significant other, Betsy DiQuattro, to meet me.  She will be joining me for part of each days rides.  Being new to long distance cycling, she will be riding only several miles while she builds up her leg muscles and stamina.  This is a first for me.

finding my way along the trail lead to numerous dead ends.

    From the onset, confusion reined.   I would find the canal path only to have it abruptly end.  The signs are no existent when needed.  Route 31 served as the trail off and on all day.  What appeared to be a trail ended in a dead end.  GPS, a paper map and a compass did little to sort out the route. Decrepit bridges were closed to cars but allowed bikes, not a good feeling riding over them. Very poor arrangement. A mid morning break at Muddy waters in Palmyra was a welcome relief.  The  owners helped route me for the next ten miles of trail before another dead end. Time and time again until after forty-four miles I ran into a couple my age who had local knowledge and were going my way.  Canal trails are under construction and won’t be completed until 2021; in the meanwhile route 31 is the trail.  Glenn and Joan Wallis knew the back road routes which followed the abandoned original canal which was overgrown.  Joan had the history of the area down pat so the ride was very nice enjoyable with the exception of a few too many hills  After leaving them I stopped for a much needed refueling, an anchovy and broccoli pizza and two gator aids.  The last few miles tried my patience. Trying to find the Riverforest campground a few miles ride east to Weedsport was an exercise in frustration.  At least six miles of going the wrong direction had me wanting to sign a contract on the google gps programmers.
Once at the campsite, I set up my tent and had a warm shower.  Two IPAs at the campground bar didn’t hurt either.  Another sixty-eight plus miles day was a bit much so I may keep it under fifty tomorrow.

Avoid the big cities, Rochester particularly

Off at 8:17 from Medina, nice Hostel which I had all to myself.   Granted I saved sixty dollars but seventy-two dollars for a hostel bed was a bit much.  Perhaps, if a woman was along for the ride, the cost could be justified given a much higher priced room had the hostel not existed.  There are reasons I travel solo.  Anyways, off I pedaled.  The canal exudes peacefulness,  the small communities I pass have charm themselves. Each village name is posted on the low crossing bridges with federal, state and Erie Canal flags flying.  Passers by are out for some exercise, either walking, running or bicycling, all of which I greet in passing. With two days behind me, I have come across only two long distant riders.  The canal is part of a route designed by Adventure Cycling but since it is September, the riders have probably come and gone.  Given the coming foliage, I can’t think that this route would be filled by bikers
    Four hours down the path I made a pit stop at a convenience store on the outskirts of Rochester.  Once back on the road, I followed canal signs for the city center.  Big mistake, no hostels, nothing of any interest and the locals seemed clueless about the existence of the Erie Canal.  Making the decision to bail out and get back on the trail was the easy part. Finding my out of town was difficult and frustrating.  With the help of my GPS I nudged my way along, double checking with the paper map I had on top of my bar bag.  There were no signs, no anything pointing the way back to the canal.  The city should be promoting this national site, it could be a big money maker just as Route 66 is across the country.  What doesn’t Rochester understand.  Eventually I found an unmarked ramp down to the canal where I rode for another hour.  With well over sixty miles traveled, it was time to park the bike for the night. No hostels, warmshowers, campsites, along with expensive B&Bs had me guessing as to where to stay.  The local bike shop in Fairport gave me directions to a Budget motel three miles down the road.  68.40 miles total for the day and I hope to cover less ground tomorrow. There is a campsite in Weedsport fifty-five miles down the road.  Rain is predicted so the dirt trail could bog me down.  I am tough.

Muddled my way out of Buffalo to the serenity of the Canal and surrounding countryside

    Waking up before sunrise never thrills me but today had special significance, the beginning of another ride.  The return of the rental car was paramount.  Off I drove hoping to return it to a downtown location.  No such luck, to avoid an additional fee up wards to $75, I dropped the car off at the airport and took bus 24 back to town. Breakfast at the hostel followed and after a few quick photos in front of the hostel, I was rolling by 10:14. Keeping the water to my left, I finessed my way through town with only one wrong turn.  The signage was less than adequate but my maps filled in the gaps. City roads mixed in with the canal trail took me north until finally the city hustle faded into the background.  Turning east the Canal straightened out and its beauty came to life.  Shifting from paved paths hugging the canal to numerous connecting secondary roads I made my way east.  My compulsiveness pushed me to complete fifty miles. After encountering several great blue Herons scattered along the canal, I road into Medina.  The last ten miles had my legs talking to me.   After a few phone calls, I came upon a hostel just recently opened.  Seventy-two dollars for a hostel is steep but the rooms are all single bunk beds, new and well designed. Beats paying well over one hundred dollars.  Took in the  town as I headed to and from Fitzgibbon’s for dinner, a nice Irish pub. NAFTA did a number on the Medina with several large corporates packing up and relocating in Mexico.  Such is the case across the country.  Trump saw it and made his pitch to the suffering working class man.  The rest is history.  The town is slowly revitalizing itself.   Nice downtown area with many brick and sandstone buildings. Grand old buildings are still seen boarded up but there are several downtown buildings under renovation.
       Rain is forecast for the next three days along with possible thunderstorms.   The ride could get dicey as I progress eastward.

365 miles along the Erie Canal

As much as the road beckons, I had to launch my Herreshoff this summer and spend time sailing around Fishers Island Sound and the Thames River.  My house is glorious in the summer and is hard to break away, especially from those glorious out door morning showers.  With fall creeping around the bend,  the Erie Canal ride beckoned. With less than expected anxiety, I went through the Pre-trip  shakedown, rented a car and set off for Buffalo 445 miles northwest from New London.  Long ride but I am settled in at a nice hostel near the starting point of the Canal route. First thing I return the rental, have a light breakfast at the hostel and set off down the road. I love it. Let the wheels roll.