Archive-URL: http://search.bikelist.org/getmsg.asp?Filename=hpv.9610.0176.eml
From: Susan Christie <susanj(AT)peak.org>
Date: Tue, 8 Oct 1996 09:38:10 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: [hpv] Touring: Recumbent Wanderings 14
Hi, Everyone--
This is a tour story, so delete now if you're not interested. I haven't
gotten around to submitting a chapter about our cross-continent trip on
our Tour Easys for a while, so I hope you enjoy this one.
Susan Christie
susanj(AT)peak.org
- -------------------------------------------------------------------------
Recumbent Wanderings 14
New York, New York!
Cross-continent Bike Tour, Summer 1994
A couple of ferry boats, before and after a leisurely ride across
Wolfe Island, had brought us from Kingston, Ontario, through the Thousands
Islands back to the United States, where we landed at Cape Vincent, New
York. Customs consisted of answering, "U.S.," when a sleepy-looking
officer strolled out of his little office and asked, "Citizenship please?"
of the new arrivals. The small ferry had delivered us, two other
cyclists, and two cars.
But now what? We had grown accustomed to finding a welcome center
soon after entering a new state or province, where we could ask directions
and get maps, but not even so much as a road sign greeted us upon our
entry into New York. This was the first state that didn't seem to offer
tourists an official welcome. After a mid-morning pancake snack at a
quaint little cafe there in Cape Vincent, we located Hwy. 12E, with some
difficulty, and headed for Watertown.
The elderly industrial city of Watertown didn't seem very bike
friendly, with its narrow streets, confusing downtown, and heavy traffic,
but we made it through unscathed and headed east to look for Hwy. 3, which
would take us up through the Adirondacks. Needing money as well as
directions, we stopped at a bank in the parking lot of a mall, which
didn't look very different from such constructions out west. While we
were parked there, two men came out of the bank, took one look at our Tour
Easys and Burley trailer, approached us straight away, and inquired as to
what we were all about. Was this a friendly greeting or not? We
explained that we had ridden these vehicles from Oregon.
"Aw, get outta town!" one man exclaimed.
Hoping my sensitivity to regional language usage would not fail me, I
interpreted this to mean, correctly as it turned out, "You gotta be
kidding!"
I replied, "Well, we're trying, but we can't find the way..."
Quick on the uptake, both men burst into laughter, and we were soon
sharing the story of our travels once again. They helpfully pointed out
the best route to Hwy. 3, and we were soon on our way. So much for any
anxiety we might have had about the friendliness of New Yorkers.
Highway 3 had wide shoulders, eight feet most of the way. We learned
this was primarily for snow removal in winter, but it made a great bike
lane for us and our trailer and we revelled in the luxury.
Leaving Watertown behind, we headed gently uphill through small,
picturesque towns on the way to Adirondack Park. Somewhere along that
road, we stopped for raspberry frozen yogurt at a little place all by
itself along the highway and enjoyed a friendly talk with the owners.
When we asked about camping for the night, they pointed us toward our
first, and what turned out to be our only, KOA campground. Although very
expensive, at least it was a step beyond the usual RV parking lot, with
trees and comfortable tent sites, but we couldn't help missing the
beautiful, pristine Forest Service campgrounds out west.
We had a memorable conversation that night with a Canadian family
visiting New York for a camping weekend. We enjoyed telling them about
our recent adventures in Canada, and in turn, we were fascinated with
their account of the serious illnesses their family had experienced and
how thankful they were for the Canadian health care system. We had
inquired often about that as we travelled through Ontario, hoping to
clarify our thinking about what kind of changes in health care we should
work for in the United States.
A real deluge of warm summer rain accompanied us for a while the next
morning. At least we got all packed up before it hit! The highway became
steeper and we began to believe the Adirondacks would deserve their
designation as "mountains." As we gazed at the scenery in this brand new
place, we began to think of terms such as "recycled wilderness." The
geology felt very old, but the vegetation seemed very new. The forest was
at least fourth or fifth growth, and there were no very large trees.
Nevertheless, it was lovely, bright and shining after the rain ended.
We abandoned our rain jackets along about Harrisville (it was simply
too hot to wear them, and the remaining showers cooled us nicely) and
stopped there to refuel with pancakes. Then we sought out an IGA grocery
where we bought some food supplies for later in the day. As we waited in
line at the store, we struck up a conversation with a woman, a teacher in
Harrisville, who gave us helpful tips on where we might camp that night.
She said her husband, who was very interested in recumbents, would be
green with envy when she went home and told him she had seen two
recumbents and actually talked with their owners!
As we headed out of town, a car stopped ahead of us on the highway,
and a man and woman jumped out and flagged us down, as people do when they
want to talk to us or take a photo. Sure enough! As soon as the nice
woman from the IGA had told her husband she had seen us, he had insisted
they had to come after us! She knew where we were going, so they had no
trouble finding us. Soon Ted was happily pedaling Matt's bike up and down
the shoulder of the highway, proclaiming with every breath that he simply
had to order one of these wonderful creations immediately. We have often
wondered if he ever did!
We eventually made it that day to the state park campground near the
little town of Cranberry Lake. We found a site, got our tent all set up,
then tore back to town to take full advantage of a good spaghetti dinner
at the restaurant we had noticed on the way by.
The next day's trip took us through Lake Sarinac and Ray Brook to
Meadowbrook State Park. It was fun for me to at last see places I had
read so much about during our work on the acid rain projects at the EPA
lab in Corvallis, although Adirondack Park turned out to be different from
what I had imagined. So many tourists! So little room for them all! We
ate breakfast the next morning in Lake Placid, which was jammed with
people and cars, and on our way out of town we saw the ski jump made
famous in scenes of the winter Olympics.
The next day's ride was one of the toughest of our tour. Those
rumors about the steep hills of the northeast are true! All the roads
seem to go straight up and over. No "contouring" here! After lugging the
trailer up a very steep two-mile hill, I decided my strength had about
topped out. The extreme heat and humidity might have had something to do
with my attitude! Again, friendly people to the rescue. An elderly
couple visiting with some other people outside their home along the
highway immediately greeted us and invited us in for glasses of ice-cold
spring water so pure, they said, that they could bottle it for sale if
they wished. These sweet people let us use their bathroom and introduced
us to Clyde, their 22-lb cat. It was amazing how quickly we revived!
Still, I was happy to turn the trailer over to Matt. He had recovered
from his turn with the trailer on the earlier steep hills.
We had to work very hard to reach our destination for that last night
in New York--Crown Point Campground, right on Lake Champlain. We climbed
a hill on our way into little Port Henry that forced us to stop every few
yards! But the last few miles to camp were flat, and Crown Point made the
trek worth it. What a beautiful spot! We had plenty of time to take
leisurely showers, get cleaned up, eat a bite of supper, rinse out our
clothes, and then sit in front of our tent and simply gaze at the
beautiful lake and the high arc of the bridge over the water into Vermont
silhouetted against the sunset. We went for a walk and read the memorial
exhibits about Champlain and other figures from early U.S. history.
Somehow we felt close to those times. Familiar names of places and people
sort of gathered around us and touched us, even though we couldn't
remember much factual detail from our school lessons. What a blessing
that our journey had brought us to this place!
Happy cycling!
Susan Christie
Next time: The Hills of New England
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