No getting through the smoke

         With the chance of rain 100%, I pulled out the rain gear, packed up and headed for the cafeteria for breakfast.  Wonderful dorm room at Bishop University with an inexpensive place to eat a five minute walk way.  My legs were not feeling tip top but with a few miles of easy riding I would be up to par.  I was greeted at the door by a woman who was running the cafeteria.  Asking where  I was going with all my riding gear on she quickly noted that she had brought her potted plants indoors because of the forest fire fallout of fine particle matter.  She said the smoke was descending from Quebec City and it would be a bad idea for me to continue north.  Using my better judgement I packed it in and rode three miles from Lenoxville to Sherbrooke to catch a bus to Montreal.  With 140 miles to go, I felt cheated out of my goal of reaching Quebec City.  410 miles covered to date but no cigar.  A bus brought me to Montreal and from there I tried to get a bus or train south.  The routes all went to NYC and the schedules were terrible so I booked a car rental, a Toyota 4runner, packed up the bike and  spent the next seven hours driving south through a dim of smoke. The vents were closed the smell still seeped into the car.  Very spokey ride covering 380 miles.  The car and highway lights were a dirty yellow and the visibility at several points along Interstate 87 slowed me down below 60 mph.   At a rest top to fill up the gas tank and get some food the front hood in just fifteen minutes accummated a fine dusting of fire debris. Canterbury, Connecticut at 12:15 am was a very welcome site.  Betsy was awake to great my weary soul.  

Once these fires have subsided I will figure out a way to finish the last 140 miles, perhaps in September.

Into Canada, heading northwest

     Off at 8:20 from Newport on the rail/trail headed north.  Five and a half miles later I arrived at the border crossing, answered all the questions correctly, packed my passport and pedalled into Canada.  The trail continued for two hours with me free of roaring trucks, cars and lousy shoulders.  The trails can get monotonous but it is nice to cruise along surrounded by nature. The trail ended in Ayer’s Cliff where also I was able to get some food.  Moving on what I thought was a continuation of trail brought me to a dead end.  I back tracked and spent the next hour figuring out which road to take. Finally, the local library pointed the way out of town in the right direction. The remainder of the ride consisted of the same old lousy shoulders, loud vehicles, moderate hills (two walkers) and a stiff headwind.  Upon reaching the outskirts of Sherbrook/Lenoxville I miraculously found a bike trail.  There may be a national rail/trail made up of many local trails but the signs are non existent.  Velo verte 3 is what I want to be on but without proper signage what is the use. In France I went through the same drill with their velo routes.  Is it the French culture which is lacking a bit of common sense?   Once in Lenoxville I was told the local Bishop University put up riders like me.   After consulting the police I found the institution and checked in minutes before the rain began. Nice digs and a cafeteria in the next building.  The girl who checked me in hopefully has correctly laid out the route tomorrow, rail/trails the whole way to Quebec.  I know the route will no doubt be laden with wrong turns do to poor signage.   Rain is forecast so the rain gear is ready. I can hardly wait.

Off north to the Canadian border

    Once up and squared away, Jan cooked a delicious breakfast making sure I was topped off for my ride north. Rick and I loaded up my bike and gear and we shoved off for a twenty minute ride to the rails to trails I would take ten miles before merging onto route 100 north. Once there I assembled the bike and Rick snapped some good parting photos.  What a terrific time I had with him.  I didn’t hang with him during our school years but since then we have become good friends. I settled in for the ten mike teail ride and through Johnson, Vermont before I merged onto Rte 100.  After three and a half hours, a general store came into view, twenty-five miles behind me and it was time for lunch and a break.  The road shoulders were like rte 9J and 22 in New York State. The cars thinned out as I progressed north but the speed of the vehicles and the lousy shoulders made for a somewhat stressful ride.  There were reasonably flat roads along the way but the hills were there to test my endurance. Three hill walkers over Forty-seven miles wore on me but I prevailed.  My goal was to reach Prouty Beach and campsite for the night.  Once there I set up camp in the primitive tent area, showered and pedalled downtown to Newport.  Being Monday all the restaurants were closed. Wendy’s had to suffice.  Turns out the campsite adjoins a rail trail to the Canadian border and once in Canada, a trail goes straight to Quebec City.  There appears to be some road to cover before trail begins but the terrain flattens out, praise Jesus!  No matter how experience a rider is, hills are not a good time. In fact, they suck!

Great reunion, on the road again

       Off to the reunion across Vermont and New Hampshire, over two and a half hours by highway.  Once we settled in at the B&B in Bristol, we headed for campus  where for the next four days we eat too much, hung out, attended numerous events, caught up with each other (eighteen of us from the class of ‘68), slept and pledged money for the thirty million dollar fund drive. The school’s tuition is now $69,000 which gives urgency to raise the endowment to help support the on going operation and provide students with financial aid.  The school has change so much in fifty-five years. What an attractive place to send your child.

Anyways, Rick and I headed out Sunday morning.  Rick went to back way taking me through the numerous and charming towns and countrysides along the way.  Once back at  his place I went to work getting everything ready for my ride north to the Canadian border.   Jan cooked a delicious Salmon dinner to finished up the day.

        

        

Enough of the Empire State trail

   Not twenty miles to Essex rather a grueling twenty-five,  walked five hills and the shoulders were barely navigable. New York State needs to get real and delete this road section from Albany North from their Empire State trail. I have ridden over 16,000 miles and my nerves were severely tested. with great relief I rolled into Essex, a very charming town, but the ferry was unloading and I had to make a beeline to make it on time.  Fifteen minutes on the ferry and I was on the other side. I chatted with the crew who were retirees just filling in. Once on the other side I chilled out under a small roofed in tourist pamphlet area until Rick Peyser arrived. Great to see him.  Some how after removing my front and rear wheels we shoehorned my bike into his Honda Fit. The rear seats fold back enabling a bike to be slid in the rear side doors. Off we went to Underhill, Vermont where after seven days on the road, well over three hundred  miles, I could garage the bike and take a break.  Rick and his wife Jan treated me like loyalty and took me out for a delicious dinner.  Such a charming area of Vermont with small hamlets dotted with farms and rural settings.  Rick and Jan’s house is up a dirt road with a spectacular view of a mountain from their back porch. Tomorrow, Rick and I head for New Hampton School for our fifty-fifth reunion. How can that be?

So much for the Empire state trail

  Rolled out of Lock 9 at 8:03 and as advertised the “trail for experience riders” reared its ugly face. Walked two hills within the first hour and began a series of long climbs on slick secondary roads followed by long high speed descents.  Farm land for miles with only two towns in between. For the second time I came across a huge prison with twenty foot walls out in the open with nothing around it. One was federal penitentiary and the other a New York state Prison.  The latter had a huge gothic building in the center which at first I though was a giant cathedral but was really a jail dorm. Kind of creeped me out so I passed on taking a photo. I pushed on through the hills and heat with little shade.  I consumed well over a gallon of water, some gator aid followed by lemon aid.  I am still thirsty.  As I rolled into Port Henry, Bulwagga Bay camp resort was on my right.  A typical semi permanent RV site but with a nice view of lake Champlain. After setting up camp I rode to a local hamburger stand and had a modestly decent dinner.  In the process I communicated with Rick Peyser, a friend and New Hampton classmate, who was planning on picking me up in Burlington after my ferry ride from Port Kent.  Rick informed  me that this ferry was discontinued. The State of New York had not revised its map and related information.  (God damn computer has decided to print everything in bold and I can’t reset it.  Whatever happened to KISS?). The good news is that tomorrow I will need to ride only twenty miles to Essex instead of forty to Fort Kent.  Given that the Empire trail from Fort Ann is all secondary highway and not at all what I envisioned, I will be crossing over to route 15 in Vermont and riding from east of Burlington to Canada, a much more scenic ride. So once off the ferry Rick and I will go to our fifty-fifth school reunion. I have already shipped a box of clothes for the event.

Albany to Lock 9, 56 miles

   I left the comfort of the Holiday Inn Express, snagged a quick breakfast at a nearby cafe and was rolling on a trail by 9:10.  A combination of roads and trails with scenic vistas over three and half hours brought me to Schuylerville.  My legs were hurting the last hour probably because I hadn’t drunk enough water, a fault of many us bikers.  Being Memorial Day everything but local grocery store was closed.  With lunch in hand I parked myself at closed Restaurant where the tables and chairs were left outside. After an hour of R&R I gently continued my ride being careful not to stress the legs.  Upon arriving Fort Charles I stopped to ask a gentleman working on his yard if I could set up camp at one of the Champlain canal locks.  I had done so on the Erie Canal.   Good fortune had it that he worked at lock seven as head of maintenance.  He loaded me up with a large bottle of ice cold water and called his boss to see if I could camp  at Lock nine. Six miles ahead on tow paths and dirt roads I arrived with a feeling of relief. Boiling hot water from the bubbler mixed with tap water allowed me a water bottle shower out of sight down a dirt path off to the side of the canal. There is nothing like being buck naked in the woods scrubbing off a days ride of dirt and swear.  After the fisher men and their families left for the day I set up camp while fighting off the numerous bugs. Dinner consisted of Limberger cheese, canned devil ham, french bread and an apple, actually quite good.  With ninety-six miles to Port Kent and hilly terrain ahead I need to do at least fifty miles tomorrow.  Plenty of water, slow  and steady will get me there. Now for a good nights sleep under the stars.

When the going gets tough the tough get going

   Basically I survived the evening; piled on everything I could to stay warm.  My creativity kicked in resulting in a somewhat a decent nights sleep.  Stopped off at Deli near the park and had a super sized breakfast to last me through the day plus a hefty sandwich and mega cookie for the road. Meanwhile I was able to almost completely charge my phone.  A good ride with a few road sections. Once in Kingston the trail stopped and my quest to find Dick’s Sporting goods began. Route 9 was a hell hole and the temperature was pushing eighty.  A lot of sidewalks and ballsy street riding got to Dick’s.  $67 later I had a sleeping bag.  Getting back on the route was an effort; route 9 to 201, a major highway with a large shoulder, brought me to the two mile Kingston-Rhinescliff bridge.  With the pedestrian path gated off I tried to bum a ride as the traffic creeped by me in the blazing sun.  No takers, empty pick ups included. New Yorkers are a distrusting lot. Taking another tack I went to the administration building, walking behind it a lady spotted me and told me she would open the gate. A two mile walk with a panoramic view coupled by the blazing sun got me to the other side.  No trails since entering Kingston but once over the bridge I turned to a beautiful reasonably flat road lined with beautiful country home.  Duchess county appears to be an upscale place. About an hour later I rolled into Tivoli, a yupped up little town.   The center of town had a nice inn but like yesterday, it was booked. No warmshowers, campsites or motels.  Apparently, there are several big league colleges having their graduations. In fact part of my ride included a stretch through Bard College which in the midst of graduation ceremonies. So once again I am setting up camp in a local park as far out of site as possible.  The park facilities had hot water and a big enough bathroom to allow me  a decent scrub down and shave. I still haven’t found a place buy a cord to charge my iphone so I am shutting the phone down for the night.

 

Second day, fifty plus miles to poughkeepsie

      Saving me from the hills in getting back to trail Peter gave me lift.   8:38 I was rolling north. Only one diversion but the ride was up and down three degrees and no cars other than the intersections. Upon reaching Poughkeepsie the hassle of finding a place for the night began. Memorial day up here is a big deal which means no vacancies anywhere.  Throughout dinner at a nice restaurant I was totally preoccupied with finding a place.  No such luck, no campsites, no warmshowers, no airbnbs within striking distance.  After dinner I rode across this huge walking bridge spanning the Hudson River, very impressive along the spectacular views. On the other side, I checked out a few Indian owned low budget motels and even they were booked. Out of desperation I went to the Highland police and fire station and pleaded my case.  The fire station was volunteer manned and closed. The police solved the dilemma.  A few blocks away was a local park where I could find a secluded spot to set up camp.  The police would notify those on duty that I was there.  No shower other than a brief rinse off but at least I had a place to crash.  Another unpleasant surprise awaited me.  Upon setting up camp, I realized I had forgot to pack my sleeping bag.  Are you kidding me?!!! Smooth move Shakespeare!!  With all the planning and I forget such an important item.  At least I never unpacked my sleeping bag liner so with my goose down jacket, pants and several items for warmth I should make it through the night in reasonable comfort. Final the frost on the cake was my new apple phone cord does not fit into my battery.  Apple is always changing its charging  plugs to screw with the public, forcing us all to buy new cables. A real gotcha! So today’s ride was uneventful with many nice vistas but now must gopher for a new charging cable and maybe a new sleeping bag.  Ever ride has its challenges:

Made it out of Mahattan

  When the train was fifteen minutes from Penn station I sprung to action reattaching the front wheel and loading on the bags.  NewYork was easy riding getting from the station to The Hudson Valley greenway.  Reasonably narrow road west on 33rd, over to 34th and onto the trail. Very safe greenway other than the pedal assist bikes, a.k.a. motor bikes which where flying along at 20-25 mph.  Who s fooling who? There are bicycles and there are motor bikes but this “pedal assist” bicycle is total B.S.  Other than the motor bikes and a stiff breeze for several miles, the flat terrain was wonderful.  A few wrong turns and a bit of street riding made for a bit of frustration. Standard operating procedure when on a bike.  A decent break for lunch around 2:30 rejuvenated  me.  I arrived at my Warmshowers host, Peter Moran in Ossining around 5:00.   Nothing like a home cooked meal and a warm shower. As both of us are cyclists we hit it off from the get go.  Forty-two miles is a good first day but the body needs a good rest.  

Off to New Hampton School and Quebec City

    Enough of the anxiety, as is the case with every trip.  Breaking out of my comfort zone is rough on the psyche.  I am riding the new Empire route north from Manhattan to the Canadian border then on to Quebec City.  On the way I will divert to New Hampton School for my 55th class reunion.  Rick Peyser a classmate will give me a lift from Burlington east to New Hampton, New Hampshire. God bless my good health and may I have many more rides.