Homeward bound

 Packed up and off to the bus station by 7:45.  Boro made me delicious breakfast, pictures were taken and we bid farewell.  Wonderful people, I felt so comfortable being around them.  Boro’s mother Linda wanted me to stay for the weekend but airbnb, the boat beckoned and I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.  Made it in ten minutes to the station, checked in, covered my bike with the huge plastic bag as required for the bus ride.  Once loaded aboard we were off to Sherbrooke.  Several stops over the journey and I could see forest fire smoke from the Canadian midwest. I opted for a Uber to drive me from the station to my van parked at the Sherbrooke municipal airport.  Thirteen miles on a fast moving margin shoulder road would be made even by the air quality so the Uber was the prudent decision.  Given how President Trump has insulted Canadian with his 51state rhetoric I was grateful that there was no hassle at the border going both ways.  Enjoyable border officials which I chatted with briefly and on my way I went.  Rain accompanied me the whole way, a brief stop in southern Vermont to fuel up and stretch my legs. My Apple music kept me company until my arrival at 9:41.  Unpack the bulk of my gear, showered and called it a day.   Where next, Finish route 66 or do Australia for my third continent?

A day of rest taking in Quebec City

 Boro on his e-bike cargo bike with his one half year old son, Manny ( nick name for Manalow) and I on my bike rode to the day care.  His cargo bike had a special enclosed cab for his son with protection frame, safety seat and canvas surround, quite the setup.  Afterwards Boro  who works on helping the homeless ( and Maude as a mid-wife) had to punch in and I headed on my bike to take in the city.  First, off to the bus station to secure my bike ticket having brought the plastic bag for it from before.  Not having a firm grasp of the language and the bus employees knowing very little english made the process a big frustrating.  After conquering that obstacle it was off to get a look see of  historic lower Quebec and visit the Museum Civilization.  After over four hours of absorbing the city’s history, culture and sites I returned to 49 Chateauquay for a tall beer and nap.  Boro told me of a  neighborhood party at a nearby park so I changed and walked over to the event.  At least three hundred people, loads of children like I had not seen in years.  Music, food vendors with delicious local casual cuisine; the local  craft beer was an added bonus.  Craving some dessert Boro, Maude, the two enfants in a double wide stroller and I sloughed our way up to upper Quebec City to a very special ice cream parlor, my treat.  By then I felt very much part of the family. Manny/Milo and I were hitting it off, me as the phony uncle.   He reached up for me to pick him up, a real treat for me. Back hone we called it a day.

The last leg

Left Lyster ‘ Tropical Camping’ at 8:48 for Quebec City, 40 miles to go.  Flat and straight the whole way.  An elderly touring group out for the day passed me on their e-bikes,  real bicyclists are becoming fewer and fewer. Wayfarer bike shop has stuck strictly to real bicycles. I arrived at the St. Lawrence river/seaway west of Quebec City where I had the unpleasant task of walking over a very high bridge on a very narrow bike path, a mile trek which put the fear of god in me.  One on the other side I descended onto a wonderful river bike way and promenade.  Several miles east brought me to the steep bike climb up to the upper part of Quebec City.  Switched back up to less the steepness but still a walker. Once on top I google my way over to my warmershowers host (I sent out three requests before left the campsite and got one acceptance). I was able to take in the charmer of upper Quebec City before I had to descend to 49 Chateauqyay,  the warmshowers host address.  Boro and Maude, their two infants and Linda, Boro’s mother, greeted me  Charming family where Boro gave me a cold beer to cool me down. On way there I had to negotiate an  extremely steep hill with my breaks clamped down to keep control of my bike. After cleaning up and napping in a glide seat for two, Boro prepared a classic Quebec dinner, Putton, Fried potatoes,  sausage and vegies in gravy sauce, quite delicious.  My accommodation was in the downstairs vacant apartment with no electricity.  Boro ran an extension cord and I showered and did my laundry upstairs.  Linda had her own apartment next to me.  They warmered up to me quickly. They spoke  good english as I tried to interject my french where possible.  

Cold, windy, hilly and dirt roads

 This the second time I have written this blog.  The God damn computer deleted the page.  God damn geeks are running our world and their lack of common sense is non existent. When I seize power there will be military style boot camps for all programmers.  Rigorous  physical condition will be followed by the retraining of their brains to understand and apply common sense to their lives and any future programming they perform.

I departed the Sherwood municipal airport at 9:40.  Having forgotten to bring my cold weather jacket (always always always something gets left behind) I layered up and used my wind breaker, scull cap under my helmet and long fingered gloves.  The Google map bike route was terrible, dirt roads with loose washed stone and hills upon hills, it  eventually took me to a road that was totally over grown.  Enough of this genius bike route and back to a basic car route.  The new route added thirty miles which essentially cancelled out the twenty-five torturous miles I had already ridden.  Thank you Google,  privately I will tell you what I really think of you. Eventually I made it to Richmond which had a decent but funky hotel in stages of renovation. A former railroad station with charm. Vincent, who sold the family dairy farm to his brother, took the proceeds and bought the station.  He showed me the progress and I was able to help him in how he should go about renovating various rooms. He cooked me dinner and showed me around town which included a stop for beer, ice cream and a charging cord.  If I were younger, i could see getting a train station for myself.

The legs are sore but I hope tomorrow I will have a longer ride.

Finish the ride

More than a year and a half have passed since the forest fires forced me to abandon my ride from Manhattan to Quebec City.  After a fun 57th New Hampton Reunion in New Hampton, New Hampshire, it was a easy drive in my Mercedes camper up to Sherbrooke. The trick was to find long term parking for the camper and a truck stop to spend the night. No secure parking in Sherbrooke so I checked online for the existence of a local airport.  Thirteen miles east of Sherbrooke I arrived at very small but nice local airport, just for local folk and no control tower.  Much to my delight I am allowed to do both long term parking and also spend the night, free no less! 

The weather is windy, cold (in the forties), rainy and foggy, not conducive for bicycling. Starting tomorrow, June 2, it will be sunny for the next few days. 130 miles to Quebec City in three days should be doable. This short leg is the first road trip since my back operation January 22, all should go well given that I have been biking an hour a day, five days a week for over a month.  On the road again!

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.

Mission Aborted

 None of us are getting any younger and I am the last one to succumb to the old age mentality.  Since my hellish week of riding into the wind through hilly terrain my legs have not been responding well.  Upon reaching Claremont and realizing a huge mountain pass was looming, aggravated by exhausted legs and dangerous weather at higher altitudes, a decision had to be made. Never in my 16,000+ miles have I been faced with such a decision. My approach has always been “damn the the torpedoes, full speed ahead.”   There is courage and there is fool heartiness with a thin line between the two. Pushing my ego aside, I have decided to abort the trip.  I knew this trip would be my last big ride but I didn’t expect such an abrupt ending.  Now I am back in Los Angeles packing the bike and making arrangements to get home.  From this point forward, my touring will be limited to no more than ten day/five hundred miles.  After my legs recover I will be investing in a computer simulated workout machine where my bicycle is locked onto it.  No time for lolly gagging!  

Eastward thorough endless lights

        Left the lap of luxury at my brother and sister-in-law’s house for the subway which brought me to Union Station.  There I had east on flat wide roads with bike lanes, however, the traffic lights were never ending for twenty-eight mikes.   After four hours of peddling I stopped for lunch and a break.  The constant stopping and starting took its toll on my legs but I knew forty miles was the bare minimum I had to cover.  Before moving on I messaged two warmshowers hosts in the approximate area I would end up,  somewhere around Upland.  As I was riding along  on a bike path in a area devoid of vegetation, off in the distance I spotted another cyclists loaded up with panniers. Alas, my first encounter with a fellow long distance cyclist.  We stopped and chatted for a few minutes.  John was from the finger lakes in New York doing a cross country trip, route 66 included. He had sixty miles to reach Santa Monica.  He mentioned he was staying at a warmershowers just up the road.  I checked my emails and one of the two warmshowers hosts had gotten back to me. Coincidently, we were staying at the place! Had I missed thus guy I would have overshot this place by miles.  We rode fifteen minutes and arrived at our destination next to Pomona College.  Carole and Win (John Winthrop Aldrich related to New London’s founder) took us in for a very enjoyable stay, dinner with plenty of good conversation. I learned from John that at the higher elevations there would be a very good chance of me running into cold weather and snow, not what I wanted to hear.  That was less than encouraging news; first the unrelenting wind now the cold and snow.  There is a mount pass ahead but at least the stop and go riding will taper off.

On the road again

   Today was spent taking the subway/train out to Santa Monica and bicycling back to central Los Angeles.  A long train ride with many stops, upon arrival I rode my bike down to the waterfront, took a few photographs, turned around and head for LA. A flat road with over three quarters of it bike paths, no wind, low traffic and a very pleasant ride. With the bike stripped down of its panniers my speed was a good two mph faster.  Once I arrived downtown I took the subway back to South Arden Boulevard where my Brother and sister-in-laws house is located. Tomorrow I can head east from downtown without having to start in Santa Monica. After lunch where I checked out my route for tomorrow I chilled out for a few hours before I went out to dinner with Ted, my other LA brother, and his wife Constance.  Now for some sleep.

Arrived in Los Angeles

    ThirtyFour hours from Kansas City to Los Angeles, you what you have to do. Loaded up with food for the trip I was able to stay clear of the snack cafe except for a vegatable-humus item and two IPAs.  The lounge area on the second deck with the overhead windows was kind of cool, being able to hang out in a spacious area.  Sleeping conditions were marginal but I managed. Upon arrival at 8;00 I navigated to the purple metro subway line within Union station. After six stops I arrived at Wilshire-Western where I had to use the escalator twice because the elevators were busted.  I damn near lost hold of my fully loaded bike as I struggle to enter the escalator and stabilize it as I ascended, a very scary experience. How in hell do the handicapped make it up to street level!? Once on the street I rolled up my pants, and put on my riding shoes. I figured put what direction to head and used the side walk due to the lack of a bike lane or shoulder and a steady flow of traffic.   Once on a side streets the road was near deserted and I arrived at my brother Jack’s house.  Shower, shave, breakfast, laundry, food shopping and a nap brought me down for a soft landing.  Tomorrow I take the tube to Santa Monica where I will ride route 66 back into Los Angeles. The real journey begins on the 21st.