Top/bottom ten

The greatest hits and worst miseries of the tour, not necessarily in order of how good or bad they were and not necessarily ten of each:

Tour top 10:

New York week (after the first 50 miles) -Finger Lakes/wading in Lake Ontario after a cold front came through, temperature and humidity went down, tailwind all morning; up and down through the Adirondacks, beautiful day in Lake Placid. If you took away the first 50 miles and replaced them with the first 50 miles of the next week, this could be #1.867CEBD3-27F5-4014-AACC-1FC37BBC5BE8

Wisconsin week – Cannon Trail, the Great River Rd., Baraboo Bluffs/Devils Lake/Merrimac ferry, Kettle Moraine Scenic Drive. Great roads and no traffic all week. (Visits from family and friends put this one over the top, but it was already great.) 

The ride into Baraboo contained the single steepest climb of the entire trip ( a short stretch of Terrytown Road). 

The Sparta to Elroy Trail, while the first Rails-to-Trails conversion, has been surpassed by several others. It was actually the low point of the week. While the tunnels are a novelty, riding for 30+ miles on gravel is not my cup of tea and takes a toll on the bike. I know, gravel riding is the new thing, but I’d rather ride on pavement if given the choice. 

I’m almost reluctant to admit that the area I ride regularly was the high point, but it also assures me that I live in the right place.AA48B9A9-93D9-405F-B4A3-8637855C927A

Needles highway/Black Hills/Badlands – The Needles Highway was the single high point. This was a magical fairyland, otherworldly in its beauty. I am amazed that I never knew of this place. I could ride that road ten more times and still see new things. The area was phenomenal and the road was the best we rode in >4300 miles.   E2692CEC-A68A-498A-9B90-C0D7F1978AC7

The Badlands are also otherworldly. Different, in that they can be seen as bleak in broad daylight, but change minute-by-minute in early morning light. Like Needles Highway, I wanted to ride that same road again at sunset after riding it at sunrise. 

 

Bike path through Grand Teton National Park, climbing Teton Pass, descending to Jackson Hole and a great bike path. The path through the park kept us away from traffic and in view of the mountains. I met Santa Claus at the foot of Teton Pass, along with a group riding from Texas to Alaska. The pass was steep and tough, getting steeper as it went. Standing at the top of the pass was a feeling of accomplishment and gave a great view of the valley below. After descending to the valley we were led on a secluded path into town. The valley is well set up for bicycles, with paths connecting the towns.

 

Thompson Pass – first time over the continental divide and first big pass, descent into Thompson Falls, a town mostly owned by a single family, where we saw their bar, ice cream shop, catering service, and bus service.

Devils Tower. A campground situated right at the base of the tower. The tower itself rises out of nothing. It is not part of a mountain range but, like Ayers Rock in Australia, is just there. It is no surprise that it was used as the backdrop/centerpiece of “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”. 9DCB1F78-14DE-4EBC-9051-1754A42439FD

The margarita party was our first real chance to sit down as a group and just hang out together. 

Smugglers Notch. A day that started with threatening weather that never fully materialized. The pass enveloped by clouds as we ascended, never really sure how high it was, on the approach or while actually climbing it. A climb that was over before I realized it; not because it was easy (it wasn’t) but because the top was invisible until we were there. The steepest descent of the trip, made hazardous by the wet pavement so we took it slowly. 

 

Bottom 10:

Riding 105 miles in 40° rain. The camaraderie made it tolerable. A day that I would have stayed in bed had I been on my own. 

Climbing a mountain pass in a hailstorm. Another day saved by a group – the same group. As Greg told me before the trip, the 70 degree and sunny days will all blend together, but it is the days like this that will make lasting memories. 

72 mile ride that turned into 102 mile ride, the last 1/3 into a brutal headwind, finishing with a helmet splitting crash in an endless industrial waste land. The only day that I wanted the van to stop for me. I got back on the bike and rode the final ten miles, so I did ride EFI. We stopped at a convenience store for a cold drink and found other riders draped over coolers and freezers. Misery loves company.

The first half of that day was actually really nice. 

Mile after mile of horrendous pavement,90+ degree heat, and endless headwinds across the Great Plains.

Mile after mile of flat and boring countryside in Michigan with bad highways and rude drivers.

Re-entering the US at Niagara Falls and riding 50 miles before getting into the countryside.

Bone jarring expansion cracks through Central Minnesota.

Hill City to Custer – uphill, bad headwind, relentless sun/heat, horrendous traffic, grooved pavement causing painful whining noise – and there was a reasonable alternative route nearby.

A few random thoughts:

  • had some great encounters with bikers (of the Harley persuasion) – both on-the-road salutes and chats at the roadside.
  • In the first week I waved to a Corvette behind me to acknowledge it and, as it passed, I saw a peace sign flashed out through the T-top.
  • A random motorcyclist flipped me the bird for no apparent reason.
  • A friendly bar owner brought watermelon out to us on a hot, dry, and windy day.
  • On another hot day I stopped in a coffee shop for an iced coffee and the air conditioning was so cold I just hung out for awhile. It was a day when I realized getting somewhere was only a small part of the plan.
  • When I walked into a brewpub, I was met by applause. Another rider had arrived before me and told our story and they knew I was part of that group.
  • Greg repeatedly referred to the Lake Michigan ferry crossing as “The shortest longest day”. We rode only 40 miles but got into camp with just enough time to pitch our tents before it got dark.
  • Somewhere out west (I think on the Tetons day) a Russian couple riding from Denver to Seattle stopped in and joined us for lunch.
  • On another day, in the middle of nowhere, I happened upon a scruffy-looking guy walking his bike in the opposite direction. I asked if he needed help. He said, “Is the next town about 4 miles ahead?” I agreed that it was. He thanked me and kept walking. (Only 4 miles from town it wasn’t really the middle of nowhere – it just seemed like it.)
  • The look of incredulity when I told some kids at a lemonade stand (on our last day) that I had ridden >4300 miles for that lemonade.

That’s it for now folks. Daily life is intruding on my writing time. I have a sewer line to clear and more. Posts will be a little more irregular after today. Maybe when my bike gets here I’ll look at the odometer and give you my total mileage. Maybe not. Numbers don’t really say what I want to say. Thanks for joining me on this journey. It’s been real.

I’m not going away entirely. As Phil Ochs said:

Row, row, row your boat

gently down the Ausable River, dropping 1000 feet over the first twenty miles.

We kick off the final week with a short and easy day. My new tire made it 55 miles before its first flat – that puts me in double digits for the trip. I hit a debris field on a bridge and found a wire sticking out of my back tire.

Lunch was at Ausable Chasm. For a mere $18 I could take a walking tour. I decided to be satisfied with pictures from the bridge.

We rode over a covered bridge (Ron from Niagara Falls exiting bridge). Despite the flat, I was early so I rode past our destination for a snack at the North Country Co-op in Plattsburgh, NY.

We’ll pass through five states in our last five days.

Last thoughts on Lake Placid:

Lots of folks running, biking, and smoking cigarettes (not all at the same time);

I heard English, French, Portuguese, German, Dutch, and a couple of languages I didn’t recognize- lots of French speakers;

The town is living on past glory, with several shops dedicated to memorabilia from the 1980 Olympic hockey team;

Placid Planet Bike Shop made a killing off our group, selling at least a half dozen of their jerseys ( the shop is for sale, if any of you are looking for a career change);

The town is not actually on Lake Placid, but on Mirror Lake ( which did not resemble a mirror while I was there) – Lake Placid is a short hike from the town;

An ice cream cone at the Ben and Jerry’s store costs more than a pint at the grocery store;

I did not make it to the top of the ski jump for a photo of scapulo-humeral rhythm (a Dr Bersu reference) but did get a photo of the ski jump.

 

 

Lake Placid

Here we are at the site of Olympic heroics of 1980. Everyone of a certain age recalls the “Miracle on Ice” when a group of US college hockey players defeated the mighty Soviet hockey team en route to Olympic gold.

Then there is local (for me)-boy-makes-good Eric Heiden, who swept Olympic gold in speed skating. Eric is the brother of Beth, another Olympic and World Champion speed skater, and son of Jack, an orthopedic surgeon and bicyclist.

Eric went on to race bicycles professionally for the legendary 7-11 team (which rode bikes painted with the Murray or Huffy brand, though they were built by the great Ben Serotta) and become an orthopedic surgeon.

My camp is on the grounds of Lake Placid High School, overlooking the speed skating track.

It dawned on me, while riding Friday, that we’re about to start the last week of this journey. That means I’m about to do this!

While my focus has been on each day, I have been aware that this is a coast-to-coast trip; and that the point (to some extent) was to get to the Atlantic Ocean. After all, I did seal up a vial of Pacific Ocean water, and I have carried it across the country.

But still – on some level it didn’t feel real until Friday. Truth be told, my focus hasn’t been on each day, it has been smaller than that.

I spend much of the time looking around. As far as distance, my focus is like this:

     The first five miles are my warmup                    

When I’ve completed 10% of the day’s miles, I’ve started

      At 20%, I’ve made a dent

     At 40%, it’s a pretty good dent

     At 50%, I’m halfway 

     At 60%, I’m more than halfway

     At 70%, things are looking good 

     At 80%, I’ve got this 

     At 90%, it’s in the bag, AND it’s time for increased vigilance – it’s in those last few miles, with fatigue setting in, that I’m most vulnerable.

On really long days I also look at miles – with 30 miles left, it’s an average Wednesday Night Bike Ride. I can do that. At 20 miles, it is the short route, or an early season ride – piece of cake.

In the same vein, this last week will call for increased vigilance, as well as simply paying attention. I don’t expect to do this again. I don’t want to miss anything. Barring disaster, I’ll do this; but it’s not done until I dip my tire in the Atlantic.

Today was a beautiful ride. We started late due to catering problems. The road early in was what Don described as “a bicycle autobahn”  – beautifully paved, with a shoulder wide enough to ride four abreast. As we moved into resort areas, the traffic got heavier, the road got narrower, and the pavement got worse.

I had my first flat in weeks. Tomorrow I will replace the tire, which is looking a little thin and has multiple cuts.

The route was up and down a lot. After 60 miles we had climbed more than 2000 feet but were at the same elevation as when we started – all of our net gain came in the last ten miles.

While we’ve been in the Adirondacks for most of the past two days, we finally see what looks like mountains.

A day off tomorrow, to do laundry, change a tire, visit the local bike shop. If I feel ambitious, there is the option of a 40 mile out-and-back ride to climb a nearby mountain, or a ride up to the Olympic ski jump.

[if there are formatting weirdnesses, I’m writing this on the phone keyboard, as I found a brewpub with WiFi.]