First day on the road into a stiff head wind

 Up at 7:00, had a street side cafe breakfast next door to the Freehand Hostel (about double what it costs in New London). My ride down to slip 5 for my 10:50 ferry ride to Highlands, New Jersey was a breeze.  Once on board the boat jetted along at about twenty knots as it passed Lady Liberty, Ellis Island and under the Verrazano Bridge.  Once on terra firma around twelve noon I found the coastal road and stayed on it for most of the day.  The problem being is that I bicycled into a strong headwind the whole time. Gearing down to make it tolerable, my speed dropped from an average of ten mph to just over seven mph.  

Mile after mile the shoreline was packed with houses many of which were lavish displays of one’s wealth.  Many were of respectable taste but many were, as I liked to refer, high tacky.  It mystifies me why people pack large opulent trophy houses onto tiny lots surrounded by other tightly packed houses.  

I packed it around 5:45 when I arrived at Seaside Heights and found several motels.  With the pandemic I am skeptical of airbnb accommodations which only offer a private room. Warmshowers.org had no one in the area so I settled for a no star motel. The first thing I did upon entering the room was sanitize everything I might touch.  Next a hot show and a trek to a convenience store to round up something health to eat. No restaurants were open.   The town is a classic New Jersey seaside town and with it being late September in the midst of a pandemic, the place is a near ghost town.  This means less traffic and a safer ride. Let’s pray tomorrow is free of any serious rain and no head winds.

A challenging first day

   Bounding out of bed at 7:00,  my mission was clear, load me and my bike and onto the train, get to NYC,  cross the Brooklyn Bridge, find the ferry terminal for tomorrow’s ride to Highland, New Jersey and get settled into my hostel for the night.   The first day is always challenging and the anxiety leading up to it invariably deprives me of many hours of sleep. Helping through my pre-trip jitters Betsy made me an outstanding send off breakfast of french toaster avec blueberries, sausage, coffee and an my daily sliced up orange.  Over the weeks she has pitched in helping me get through all my fall maintenance around the house. Without her help and support I would gave been hard pressed to get done what I did.   Perhaps, with some encouragement, I hope she will join me on one of my sojourns.  It was so nice to have her at the station seeing me off.  

From the time I rode out of my driveway off to the New London train station, everything went smoothly. Praise Jeeeessus!  When the train arrived in New London the conductor guided me aboard (not easy given the size and weight of my fully loaded bike.  Just a few weeks ago, Amtrak began accepting bikes all the trains. Each car has two upright racks but the train will only allow two bikes aboard, at least until the kinks are worked out.  Removing the front wheel and bags the bike neatly fit into the rack with two securing bars locking the bike into place.  The car was virtually empty which was a relief given all the germs floating around.  Even with the mask requirement, having no one around was a bonus.  On the outskirts of New York I reattached the wheel and loaded on all the gear.  Once there, the conductor helped me find the two elevators to get me to street level.  With my gps set I began sampling the New York riding conditions.  First of all, the traffic was amazingly light, very uncharacteristic of the city. The designated bus lane gave me additional space.  I arrived at the hostel high rise, checked in to my single room, shed my bags and headed off to the Brooklyn Bridge.  Once on the wide east river bike and pedestrian lanes, I cruised right along enjoying the passing boats and skyline.  Finding the bridge was easy but getting onto the pedestrian/bike way had me winding through the side streets and asking for directions. The GPS was useless.  Once on the bridge the hoards of humanity made my ride over and back somewhat tricky.  Suicide bike riders and totally oblivious tourists had me on high alert.  The wooden planks raddled beneath my wheels as I peddled along and overall it was an experience I am glad I insisted on doing.  Having circumnavigated Long Island and made to the East River,  I thought I should technically begin my trip from the east side of the Brooklyn Bridge.  Connecting the dots is important if I am to truly ride the entire east coast of the US.  New London to Winter Harbor Maine, New London to Montreal, Jacksonville to Key West, and  circumnavigating Long Island leave an eleven hundred mile stretch to complete. So here I am. After completing the bridge ride, I rode further south from the bridge and located the ferry terminal from which I need to take a ferry tomorrow to Highland, New Jersey.  Thirty minutes later I was back at the Freehand hostel where I settled into my 16th story room.  A hot shower followed by a pleasant sidewalk dinner at a neighboring Indian restaurant.  It was a nice way to finish up the day.  New York seems so different with so few people walking about but I enjoyed it.  Tomorrow, I catch the 10:50 ferry.

Brooklyn Bridge to Jacksonville, Florida

 Weeks of bulling my way through the usual fall maintenance and preparation for my ride south from NYC to Jacksonville, Florida, I am ready for liftoff. Covid 19? Staying home is more dangerous than being on the road.  On an everyday basis, the knuckle heads greet you without a mask even grabbing my hand for a shake.   Hello, who is on first? Riding solo is pretty much a solitary existence. My only concern is where I stay for the night and entering stores for food.  Two dozen masks, a water bottle filled with sanitizer and keeping my distance when talking to anyone While keep me safe.  Six feet is way to close. Camping, road side motels and properly set up warmshowers accommodations is the other half of the safety equation. With a reservation for me and my bike on Amtrak (only two bike spaces available on each train), I am bound for NYC where I will check into a hostel after riding from Pennsylvania station to the Brooklyn Bridge.  Having ridden New London to Maine and  Montreal, circumnavigated Long Island and ridden Jacksonville to Key West, I am connecting the dots.  Monday and Tuesday rain is almost certain but nothing l new for me.  It is all part if the adventure.  See you in New York.

The last forty-three miles

  Once again we were up early, packed and rolling north out of Sanford at 6:55.  Mist verging on rain combined with a serious hills made for a disheartening start.  Once on the route 4, Evan and I hooked onto 202 north whereupon the road flattened out somewhat. North then east then north east eventually brought us to our destination Little Sebago Lake.  Arriving at 11:11, forty-three miles total.  As we coasted down a long winding hill we were greeted at the bottom by Betsy’s family waving and cheering, music cranked up with the American flag on display.  Cold beer and lunch was laid out for us on two Adirondack chairs.   After five days on the road starting from New London we reached our destination, tired and sore but satisfied with our accomplishment.

A tough day but good progress

Leaving Merrimack at 6:53,  we immediately hit the hills which stayed with us off and on all day.  The combination of heat and hills wore us down but we laid down forty-five miles in four hours and twenty minutes.  Riding on empty and a bit light headed we found a Hanfords super market discreetly hidden off the road in North Berwick, Maine.  Salad, chocolate mile, fresh cherries and gator aid rejuvenated us for the final ten miles to Sanford.  The last hour starting at noon was very hot with the sun bearing down on us.  The road was a straight well engineered two lane road.  The traffic was fast moving but so was our progress; we arrived at the Sanford Inn with our bodies spent.  A low rent motel but a welcome relief.  Betsy and Evans two daughters drove north to Maine and after hellacious July 4th weekend traffic stopped by our motel.  We all dined out at the local Mexican restaurant.  Reluctantly, I lighted my bike load and let Betsy take my camping gear and top rear bag, around twenty five pounds.   The final push to Little Sebago lake will start very early tomorrow morning. Forty-five miles on decent roads with a few hills.