Friday, August 3.
We left West Lorne with the fog thickening. As we rode, the sun shone weakly through the fog. Visibility was as low as 25 feet at times. I rode slowly, not sure which was worse – looking though wet lenses, or being near-sighted. As near-sighted as I am, that means looking though lenses was pretty bad.
The fog burned off and it was hot and humid. The day was going to be close to 100 miles due to a detour around a bridge that’s out.
I paced myself and stopped at 30 miles (halfway to lunch) for coffee and a bagel in a cafe where the wait staff wore t-shirts with slogans on the back such as:
“Roses are red/Violets are blue/My poetry stinks/Coffee.” And
“I’d be a morning person if my coffeemaker brewed wine.”
We rode through lots of towns named Port Something-or-other, but very seldom actually saw the lake. Crops diversified to include asparagus, tobacco, and fruits.
A few miles short of our destination I came upon a store with a sandwich board out front reading:
“Patio open. Cold beer.”
Two riders were coming out with ice cream cones. I needed no more encouragement.
I felt good enough to add a few miles for an even 100.
I am still incommunicado due to unknown roaming fees. Formatting difficulties due to limited access and no keyboard, as I’m writing this in a bar and the bartender allowed us access to her personal WiFi. (She lives upstairs.)
I’m hoping for better Internet access in Niagara Falls Saturday, with a longer post and photos.