Miles to date: 3,341.2
Like a salmon returning upstream to their natal stream, fighting against the current, obstacles, predators and other snares, yesterday I fought my way through O’Hare’s Terminal 3. The airport experience is rarely calm or relaxing as the collective angst of travelers amasses into an atmosphere of general mental strain. This traveler anxiety rubs off on airline and food service employees who are periodically abused by the anxious clientele day in and out. Yesterday I found this experience strangely encouraging as I knew I was hours away from escape to the bike, the outdoors, and the general solace of our pilgrimage. The airport experience is often a necessary evil as anyone traveling any appreciable distance has to funnel through these transportation hubs, but I try to force myself to be kind and somewhat disconnected from the surrounding hubbub. I was glad knowing that this experience for me is relatively rare and brief, and that I can control how I respond to this environment.
Christin and I listened to an episode of This American Life about Adventures in the Simple Life; this was about Eustace Conway’s journey with two friends crossing the modern U.S. on horseback. This show aired in 1998, and it was somehow fated for me to stumble into it. There are many stories like this out there, like our pedaling pilgrimage, where an epic travel adventure is punctuated by successes, setbacks, personal growth and human interaction. Listening to this on the drive back from Door County this week reinforced my commitment to finish our journey, for myself and for anyone else that may gain some inspiration of some kind. Messages of: pursue your dreams, get outside, overcome your fears, look for the good, people generally have penchant to love… these are the things that came through this podcast and we can reinforce through this nearly completed journey.
As we flew into Buffalo yesterday afternoon, I was suddenly a little awed by the journey we’ve taken. In the time it took to have two cups of coffee, we were flying over Lake Erie and southern Ontario. I could see the shores near Natterjack Brewery, and the Welland Canal at Port Colborne, and even the mists of Niagara were visible as we passed over the Friendship bike trail we had traveled 10 days ago. What took us 4.5 days to cycle across took only 90 minutes in the Airbus A319, but from the air this distance looked immense… this stretch was a small fraction of the journey to date from the Pacific Ocean… we’ve come a long way under the power of two legs.
When we landed yesterday, we had a mission: get on the bikes ASAP and get to a hotel on the north end of Buffalo. This was a tentative plan when we left Buffalo, and now we were committed as we didn’t to start the day Wednesday with an urban sprawl crossing. We land at 4:59; Geeto’s sister Katie pickup us up at 5:15; we were back to her house to change and pack up at 5:45; we were on the saddles and on the move at 6:00; and… we were checking into the Sleep Inn 15 miles north at 7:00. Suddenly, we were all business, back in action and moving effectively as soon as we hit the ground.
After our 15-mile Day 45, we claimed a room for the night at the Sleep Inn in Amherst; this was next to the freeway, behind the local CarMax, and in the heart of north Buffalo suburban sprawl. We walked for dinner at the Buffalo Wild Wings: across the 4-lane thoroughfare connecting strip malls and big box stores of every type; over the freeway on ramps and off ramps; and through massive parking lots with distracted drivers… the 1/2 mile walk to and from dinner was the most danger we’ve faced since North Dakota gravel haulers. We longed for more tranquil, distinctive, even fly-infested establishments of days past…
This morning at the Sleep Inn we were joined at breakfast by a room full of blue hairs loading up before loading on to their tour bus. I imagine they were headed for the falls, but I wasn’t social enough to ask where they were from. I just wanted a quiet breakfast, a coffee and some room to stretch; I really wasn’t prepared for a room full of conversation about bunions and knee replacements. But, my mood was lightened when I we were joined by… AL ROKER! Not in the flesh, but digital Roker was fun to see after all of our references of him over the past 6 weeks.
5 miles into our journey, and a little off our most direct path, we came to a historic landmark: the house I lived in when I was a kindergartener. 135 Bucyrus Drive is where we moved when my dad was working for Wurlitzer and transferred to Buffalo. We lived next door to William Jaworski, whose daughter Jackie was in my kindergarten class. We used to go to Jackie’s backyard after school and on weekends and try to synchronize our swings on the swingset until we got it to tip over. Jackie’s uncle is Ron Jaworski (Jaws) who was quarterback for the Rams at that time. In the offseason he would return to his hometown and I had opportunity to play catch with him in the backyard; since William had three girls and I had three sisters, I was the obvious choice to help him hone his skills in the offseason. Throwing long balls to the small window of a kindergartener is what helped Jaws reach the Super Bowl as QB for the Eagles.
5 miles after the memory lane excursion we were onto the Empire State Trail system. This route, mostly along the Erie Canal will be our course for the next several days. It was fairly lovely: no cars, few road crossings, engaging scenery… this was the start of the vacation travel we were expecting to dominate this final 9-day leg. The weather was nearly perfect: sunny, 50-65 degrees and the wind was mostly favorable (though strangely it would periodically gust at our side or in our face though we didn’t change much direction).
With only 60 miles on the plan and an 8:30 start, we had plenty of time to keep a sightseeing mindset. So, when we came to Lockport we stopped for a coffee and some photos. The Lockport “Flight of Five” locks drop 60 vertical feet across 450 linear feet. Built from 1815-1825, it’s an impressive historic sight.
Generally, Geeto and I don’t have a lot of conversation on the road; I’ve never really liked to mix business and pleasure, and for me the ride is the job and the nights on the town are the reward. But last night and today we had a little more conversation: enough for me to learn Geeto just cracked open Steinbeck’s “East of Eden” before we left Chicago. He left it home to avoid carrying the weight, but these are the easy days where we don’t carry more than a few snacks and don’t put an ounce of water in our Camelbacks. So, we stopped at bookstore in Medina to seek another copy.
It is surprising to me that the most common encouragement we get from strangers is, “Be safe”. I don’t typically think of riding a bicycle as a risky endeavor, but certainly through the past 3,300 miles we’ve had some high-risk occasions. It’s comforting to know that complete strangers, and usually not avid bikers, recognize that safety on our journey is our greatest need; not enjoyment or health or good weather… safety is the typical request, and I’m thankful for it.
We planned to stop for lunch in Holley, but as we rolled into town it didn’t appear that anyplace was serving brewery products. So, we decided to tack on an extra 5 miles round trip to head for a tavern lunch off of our prescribed path. Though it was rated 5 stars (on a 10 point scale) by the Buffalo food critic at my side, I was happy to find a “beef on Weck” on the menu. This is one of three Buffalo culinary specialties, and I was afraid we would leave the region without a taste. It’s basically a French dip but with horseradish and served on a heavily salted and seasoned Kimmelweck bun. Our tavern did okay on the beef and horseradish, but the bun was a homemade knockoff instead of the Weck OG, but I enjoyed it and understood why this is a regional favorite.
After an 8-day hiatus, our legs were feeling the 60 miles as we emerged from our lunch break. And the beef, tater tots and LaBatt’s Blue left us bloated and slow. Though only 3.5 miles to our destination, this seemed like the longest stretch of the day. Though we got our legs and speed moving after a bit, we couldn’t help but think we were going to be sore tomorrow. When we got to the Brockport Welcome Center, we were surprised to find that $5 got us camping next door, a key to the bathroom and shower, and copious supply of bananas, apples, and chocolate chip cookies. Did I say this only cost us $5? It’s enough to make me consider selling our home and moving to Brockport’s subsidized camping district.
The Brockport camping “site” is a flat piece of ground adjacent to the canal next to the welcome center. The camping and amenities are so good, we figured there must be a catch: bright lights and sprinklers come on in the middle of the night? We’re required to scrub the latrine? The lawn sprinklers come on at 4am?… We feel we’ve seen this movie before, something here is surely too good to be true.
We were visited at our tents by a few locals and their canines as we set up “camp”. Felix the lab mix came showing off the “stick” that he had fetched. A braggart after my own heart, I was amused seeing this dog proudly cart around something more suitable for a campfire. Then, the Brockport ambassador, Asia, arrived to do her “tinky poo poos” as her owner Tommy called this daily ritual; this Shitzu prima Donna likes to checkout the campground and its residents on her afternoon patrol. Tommy lives above the Barber’s Tap Room a block away and on his advice we later went out there and The Rooster Pub & Pizza for a festive evening.
We didn’t sweat much today, so a shower seemed somewhat unnecessary, but as we hadn’t showered in about 50 hours, it seemed like this was a requirement if we were going out on the town. And we wanted to get our full $5 worth of lodging costs. Before we left for Oregon in late July, I decided to leave my camp towel at home to save the weight. Twice since I’ve been back home and thought I should take it, but have twice forgotten to do so. Now, post-shower at the Brockport Welcome Center, I was again without towel; thanks to the good folks in Brockport I was able to generate an extra long paper towel to dry my back.
When we finished visiting Asia’s Tommy, we walked 200’ into town and hit the hot spots Tommy recommended. Barber’s tavern was okay, though we were struck by an old war veteran in his motorized scooter parked outside the bar door, trying to get enough attention for a dinner order. Roosters, owned by the same guy, was exceptional. We drank Genesee 12 Horse while feasting on Buffalo style pizza, and probably the best Buffalo chicken wings you could ever expect. The wings were deep fried, then bested with sauce, then sent through the pizza oven. Geeto agreed, possibly the best wings ever and far superior to the OG wings at the anchor bar.
After watching the White Sox underperform, we walked the short distance back to our camp for an early bedtime and blog completion. As we arrived, the first drops fell from the rain that Al Roker predicted this morning. I was happy to be in the tent before the thunder and lightning escorted the heavier downpour; and I was sad to experience the shortcomings of my 30-year-old tent that sagged under the moisture and steadily dripped water through the rain fly. This home away from home has seen me through several exciting adventures, but this looks like it will be our last.
We plan to be in Syracuse in 2 days, which is 112 miles away. We’ve determined to break it up by traveling 77 miles tomorrow and leaving a short 45 days on Friday. The route is 100% on the Erie Canal Trail, but 77 miles is still a long distance on our old legs that are not yet readjusted to the daily grind: Brockport to Rivers Crossing Campground
Yesterday I included an obvious Steely Dan Easter Egg as we were going back, Jack, to do it again. That diddy was in my head for a great portion of the day so I need to unleash it to the playlist. Besides the obvious “going back” and “wheel turning round and round” lyrics, this song also may align with our pilgrimage as it’s about recidivism: the compulsive habit of repeating self-destructive mistakes. Sometimes that’s how I feel about this journey as my thigh muscles have been sore for two months, my neck feels permanently kinked, and we continue to pile strains on our most treasured human relationships… but we returned to the journey in earnest today, I still feel that these tolls are worth the cost: Do It Again
On the long, difficult days through this journey, I’ve often lost touch with the world’s happenings. Some days we’ve had time to ride, eat and blog, and not much else. But, thanks in part to Al Roker, I get the news I need on the weather report. Now entering the more established and “civilized” urbanism, I’m inclined to wonder if I’m the Only Living Boy in New York
And lastly… we’ve been blessed with gorgeous weather throughout this journey. I think we have El Niño to thank, but I’m going to continue to believe we’ve brought our own weather to this party. But now as I sign off for the night, there’s a steady downpour of: Falling Rain (most of it outside my tent 😃).
Thanks all for your continued support… 8 days to go.
Leave a comment