[R] Tonight's dispatch from a tent at lock 20 on the Erie canal. Free camping, and we got here just before the rain. Feeling pretty good about that until we discovered that the fly's no longer waterproof. So a soggy night lies ahead, mitigated only slightly by raingear draped over the frame. This is my fault (I had been concerned about the urethane's integrity and didn't bother to treat it) and I feel terrible about it. Bonesy's being very sweet, though, and we did have a good day of riding, and at least it's warm. So it's a lesson learned and we'll dry out in the morning.
Thanks, by the way, to everyone for reading and commenting. It's nice to get those little messages every once in a while. Ride on.
Friday, May 27
Thursday, May 26
Day 3: Also Days 2 and 1
Tonight we're in Johnstown, New York, about five miles from the Canalway Towpath. The past three days have been great, and have also been exhausting. Let's do haiku.
Day 3
Miles of rolling hills,
Economic depression,
And sometimes lilacs.
Day 2
Climbed along Lake George:
Surprisingly hillacious,
Too many resorts.
Day 1
One state boundary down,
Months of planning rewarded.
Quiet lakeshore camp.
I thought that that would be a good way to summarize things, but it actually took me quite a while to sort out the details. How about a scattershot list of highlights:
Day 3: Escape from the Adirondaks
We broke camp and sprinted about a quarter mile to the first diner on 9N-South (seriousnly, what kind of department of transportation thinks it's a good idea to name a north-south road "9N"?) because the mosquitoes at Lake Luzerne public campground were super aggressive and we figured we'd lose at least as many calories to the bugs as we'd've gained from the instant oatmeal. Anyway, I think we were both a litle crabby, as this morning was the first that we really felt sore. Then we tried to get directions down to the Erie Canal Towpath, but apparently no one in the southern Adirondacks ever leaves their piney hometowns. I will say, however, that everyone was really friendly about not knowing how to get to the next town over. Interesting note: when you tell people you're biking to California, they will inevitably assume that you mean you're riding a motorcycle -- even if you're sweating bullets and wearing spandex. So finally we found a public library in Hadley and looked up directions and set off. Most of the ride was unremarkable, but once we hit the mighty NY-29 it was pretty much all rollers for 17 miles or so, and the landscape kept opening up as we came out of the foothills and into dairy farms and abandoned pastures. It was like 85 out, and by the time we got here to Johnstown (our goal had been Fonda, 4 miles south) there were massive thunderheads and a tornado watch and we were pretty tired after three days, so we decided to get a hotel room, regroup (i.e. have some beers and long showers), and really attack the towpath tomorrow morning. Thus far we've averaged about 46 miles per day, and while some of that can be chalked up to hills, mostly it's just that this is the training we should have done.
Day 2: Mind over Matter, Wheels Over Road
It was chilly down on the lake, but also kind of nice to be vindicated in bringing a wool sweater and hat. So far I think we have used everything we brought, and (with the important exception of hand sanitzer) not thought "oh, I wish we'd brought...." so that feels pretty good. I wasn't sure the MSR stove would be in working order, as I'm not even sure where it came from or when it was last used, but I'll be a sonofagun if it didn't boil water like a charm. We had about 5 miles of riding before Tongue Mountain -- a 2-mile, 800ft climb about which we were warned repeatedly by the locals. The northern part of the lake is really beautiful -- very little development even along Lake Shore Drive, and next to none on the wild-looking far shore; being enraptured by the scenery, I almost didn't notice the start of the hill. It made itself known pretty quickly, though. I think that was the hardest I have ever worked on a bicycle, and it was awesome. I was literally laughing out loud as I crested the last grade. Bonesy, by the way, was a champ on this ride. While neither of us was really prepared, I have a little more cycling experience and the good fortune of actually enjoying the painful exhillaration fo climbing. Anyway, I got a picture of her topping that hill and hopefully we'll get it up sometime soon.
But so the payoff to that climb was this mile-plus ripping descent through pinewoods and bogs and this surreal quarry-looking place where we found this dead carapaced thing that looked like a massive legg-ed prawn. That ride was a huge emotional boost and helped carry us through the endless string of "Adirondack Lodges" and "Lakeview Resorts" that was to follow. Lake George town itself was a weird little touristy place where the visitors' center was closed on weekdays and no one had a map. We did manage to stop at a "Mini Price Chopper," and Bonesy got us some pasta and sauce and sausages and peppers and we cooked them over an open fire and swatted away mosquitoes and went to sleep.
Day 1: Don't Think Twice, It's Alright
We were having dinner with Bonesy's parents the night before we left, and like Constantine before her, she opened up a Magic Hat #9 whose cap said "don't think twice, it's alright," so that seemed pretty auspicious. It was a good day with foreboding skies but no mechanical, physical, emotional, or logistical issues. Ticonderoga was a ghost town.
When we got to the Public Campsite at Rogers' Rock, the camp manager/honcho (who we shall call "Burt," so as not to endanger his job) asked where we were headed and said to his coworker, "oh, lord, I want to give 'em a break-- don't want to take all their money on the first night. Don't we have that special rate?" And then sold us a day pass and pointed us to a secluded campsite right on the water from where we could neither see nor hear other campers. We washed up in a little cove formed by some boulders, and cooked hot dogs over a fire. There was a loon.
Ok, that's all for now and probably for a while, the way things have been going. Although I guess I'll probably have service more often now that we're clear of those bloody mountains.
Day 3
Miles of rolling hills,
Economic depression,
And sometimes lilacs.
Day 2
Climbed along Lake George:
Surprisingly hillacious,
Too many resorts.
Day 1
One state boundary down,
Months of planning rewarded.
Quiet lakeshore camp.
I thought that that would be a good way to summarize things, but it actually took me quite a while to sort out the details. How about a scattershot list of highlights:
Day 3: Escape from the Adirondaks
We broke camp and sprinted about a quarter mile to the first diner on 9N-South (seriousnly, what kind of department of transportation thinks it's a good idea to name a north-south road "9N"?) because the mosquitoes at Lake Luzerne public campground were super aggressive and we figured we'd lose at least as many calories to the bugs as we'd've gained from the instant oatmeal. Anyway, I think we were both a litle crabby, as this morning was the first that we really felt sore. Then we tried to get directions down to the Erie Canal Towpath, but apparently no one in the southern Adirondacks ever leaves their piney hometowns. I will say, however, that everyone was really friendly about not knowing how to get to the next town over. Interesting note: when you tell people you're biking to California, they will inevitably assume that you mean you're riding a motorcycle -- even if you're sweating bullets and wearing spandex. So finally we found a public library in Hadley and looked up directions and set off. Most of the ride was unremarkable, but once we hit the mighty NY-29 it was pretty much all rollers for 17 miles or so, and the landscape kept opening up as we came out of the foothills and into dairy farms and abandoned pastures. It was like 85 out, and by the time we got here to Johnstown (our goal had been Fonda, 4 miles south) there were massive thunderheads and a tornado watch and we were pretty tired after three days, so we decided to get a hotel room, regroup (i.e. have some beers and long showers), and really attack the towpath tomorrow morning. Thus far we've averaged about 46 miles per day, and while some of that can be chalked up to hills, mostly it's just that this is the training we should have done.
Day 2: Mind over Matter, Wheels Over Road
It was chilly down on the lake, but also kind of nice to be vindicated in bringing a wool sweater and hat. So far I think we have used everything we brought, and (with the important exception of hand sanitzer) not thought "oh, I wish we'd brought...." so that feels pretty good. I wasn't sure the MSR stove would be in working order, as I'm not even sure where it came from or when it was last used, but I'll be a sonofagun if it didn't boil water like a charm. We had about 5 miles of riding before Tongue Mountain -- a 2-mile, 800ft climb about which we were warned repeatedly by the locals. The northern part of the lake is really beautiful -- very little development even along Lake Shore Drive, and next to none on the wild-looking far shore; being enraptured by the scenery, I almost didn't notice the start of the hill. It made itself known pretty quickly, though. I think that was the hardest I have ever worked on a bicycle, and it was awesome. I was literally laughing out loud as I crested the last grade. Bonesy, by the way, was a champ on this ride. While neither of us was really prepared, I have a little more cycling experience and the good fortune of actually enjoying the painful exhillaration fo climbing. Anyway, I got a picture of her topping that hill and hopefully we'll get it up sometime soon.
But so the payoff to that climb was this mile-plus ripping descent through pinewoods and bogs and this surreal quarry-looking place where we found this dead carapaced thing that looked like a massive legg-ed prawn. That ride was a huge emotional boost and helped carry us through the endless string of "Adirondack Lodges" and "Lakeview Resorts" that was to follow. Lake George town itself was a weird little touristy place where the visitors' center was closed on weekdays and no one had a map. We did manage to stop at a "Mini Price Chopper," and Bonesy got us some pasta and sauce and sausages and peppers and we cooked them over an open fire and swatted away mosquitoes and went to sleep.
Day 1: Don't Think Twice, It's Alright
We were having dinner with Bonesy's parents the night before we left, and like Constantine before her, she opened up a Magic Hat #9 whose cap said "don't think twice, it's alright," so that seemed pretty auspicious. It was a good day with foreboding skies but no mechanical, physical, emotional, or logistical issues. Ticonderoga was a ghost town.
When we got to the Public Campsite at Rogers' Rock, the camp manager/honcho (who we shall call "Burt," so as not to endanger his job) asked where we were headed and said to his coworker, "oh, lord, I want to give 'em a break-- don't want to take all their money on the first night. Don't we have that special rate?" And then sold us a day pass and pointed us to a secluded campsite right on the water from where we could neither see nor hear other campers. We washed up in a little cove formed by some boulders, and cooked hot dogs over a fire. There was a loon.
Ok, that's all for now and probably for a while, the way things have been going. Although I guess I'll probably have service more often now that we're clear of those bloody mountains.
Monday, May 23
Day 0: Waiting
[R] Today was busy and very exciting. There is some trepidation about Bonesy's sleeping bag situation. Right now I'm trying to set up mobile posting. Did it work?
Update. Bonesy put up some pictures on the nascent "About Us" page. Thanks to her dad Jack for the shot of the four of us. It was raining as I came in from stabling the bikes just now, and I don't know how I'm going to sleep.
Tomorrow we ride!
Update. Bonesy put up some pictures on the nascent "About Us" page. Thanks to her dad Jack for the shot of the four of us. It was raining as I came in from stabling the bikes just now, and I don't know how I'm going to sleep.
Tomorrow we ride!
Sunday, May 22
Day -1: Staging
[R] Hello, internet!
(For those of you new to the site, please read "A Bicycle Log, or 'Blog'," linked to above)
Today I moved out of my apartment for the summer and rode down to Shelburne, where Bonesy's parents live. Her brother just graduated today (congratulations, Tim), and there was a family gathering to which I was characteristically late. It was a cloudy day and I was riding into a pretty good headwind with my more-or-less fully loaded bike when an SUV pulled up alongside me near the edge of town. Our conversation, which took place as my steel frame flexed over the horribly maintained right lane of Route 7 southbound and I tried to hold my line, went pretty much exactly as follows:
"Where're you riding to?"
"California."
"Where are you coming from?"
"Burlington."
"Like, today?"
"Yeah."
"[garbled encouragement as he sped away]"
So that reminded me that today was the first successful day of riding out of what will probably be about 65 such successes, albeit slightly under the target average. Today can't be Day One, though: that's Tuesday, and it's been scripted for months and I just can't wrap my mind around it being Day three when we ride through the valley and across the lake and out of the Shire at last. So like the US Senate or the Catholic Church, I'll just rename the days. Today was Day -1, and tomorrow is Day 0.
Speaking of tomorrow, it's likely to be pretty busy with packing and last-minute procurements and a 40-mile tune-up ride to Jessa's aunt in Bristol (Hi Nina). Point being, I don't see another post going up until at least Tuesday. So before we leave I'd like to thank everyone for their encouragement over the past several months (but reserve the right to rescind that gratitude in the event of grisly injury or other disaster) and urge anyone interested to contact us through the comment form at the bottom of these postings.
That's all for now -- Bonesy's gotten a head start on the power sleeping, and I don't want to get dusted.
(For those of you new to the site, please read "A Bicycle Log, or 'Blog'," linked to above)
Today I moved out of my apartment for the summer and rode down to Shelburne, where Bonesy's parents live. Her brother just graduated today (congratulations, Tim), and there was a family gathering to which I was characteristically late. It was a cloudy day and I was riding into a pretty good headwind with my more-or-less fully loaded bike when an SUV pulled up alongside me near the edge of town. Our conversation, which took place as my steel frame flexed over the horribly maintained right lane of Route 7 southbound and I tried to hold my line, went pretty much exactly as follows:
"Where're you riding to?"
"California."
"Where are you coming from?"
"Burlington."
"Like, today?"
"Yeah."
"[garbled encouragement as he sped away]"
So that reminded me that today was the first successful day of riding out of what will probably be about 65 such successes, albeit slightly under the target average. Today can't be Day One, though: that's Tuesday, and it's been scripted for months and I just can't wrap my mind around it being Day three when we ride through the valley and across the lake and out of the Shire at last. So like the US Senate or the Catholic Church, I'll just rename the days. Today was Day -1, and tomorrow is Day 0.
Speaking of tomorrow, it's likely to be pretty busy with packing and last-minute procurements and a 40-mile tune-up ride to Jessa's aunt in Bristol (Hi Nina). Point being, I don't see another post going up until at least Tuesday. So before we leave I'd like to thank everyone for their encouragement over the past several months (but reserve the right to rescind that gratitude in the event of grisly injury or other disaster) and urge anyone interested to contact us through the comment form at the bottom of these postings.
That's all for now -- Bonesy's gotten a head start on the power sleeping, and I don't want to get dusted.
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