Sleeping in a campground has it's merits.

Including sleeping in, without worry of being disturbed.

I left the campground, after saying farewell to Helen & Paul, heading south. My plan was to visit Tree House Brewing - a world renowned brewery.

The ride was an easy set of rollers. Unlike yesterday's thousand foot climb, over the course of a mile. After cruising through the country all morning, I passed a massive stone cow perched in front of a farm that proudly said Stone Cow Brewery.

Well, that is perfect.

Of course, I dropped in for lunch. They only served paninis, but that is great - a grilled sandwich sounds incredible. I sat in their massive barn, which I later learned was recently rebuilt after a fire tore it down, enjoying delicious food and a solid brew.

While eating, I checked Tree House's twitter account - they're famous and actively use social media to keep folks informed. The line to enter the brewery was already 150 people deep. Just to enter.

And this was at noon.

No thanks.

I walked over to the folks working the bar and asked them if they had any camping recommendations in the area.

With no suggestions, they pointed out of the founders of the brewery - Sean. He told me the story of the brewery, their goals, and what they wanted to achieve.

Self sustainability, recycling, giving back.

Stone Cow originated as a dairy farm, but the plummeting dairy industry of the last few years prompted them to look at alternative income sources. Although they still flourish selling homemade ice cream, brewing farm made beer contributes to their farm and efforts.

They try to grow as much of the food and ingredients as possible, or work with local sources.

And their dedication to quality certainly paid off. The barn was packed by the early afternoon, patrons enjoying sandwiches and beer.

And the moment I tried to take a photo, everyone went outside...

Sean told me I could camp at the farm. Just pick a spot by that barn over there.

Oh, and by the way, were having a wedding later. Come join us.

And that was my first wedding invitation on the bicycle adventure.

Stone Cow also has a bit of an Irish influence. As you know, my last name is Kelly, and I proudly embrace my Irish heritage. In fact, I studied for a year in Dublin while attending university.

And so did some folks at the farm.

One spent a semester at Trinity, the prestigious school in the heart of Dublin. When I inquired about his studies, he just responded with, I took whatever was available. It didn't matter - every course was enlightening.

Great outlook.

The green hills dig up some great memories about Ireland.

We reminisced about the town for quite a while; our favorite spots to absorb the city, or just to get away. He mentioned Howth, a coastal town just north of Dublin. I remember hiking there once with my family when they visited, but he said that was his getaway.

Google some photos and you'll see why.

I setup my tent in the field, overlooking the vast farm, the wedding venue in the distance, bike resting against some hay bales.

By the time I decided it was finally time to get some rest, the sun had long since set and the wedding continued to thrive on the other hill.

Thank you Sean & the folks at the Stone Cow Farm & Brewery. Another one of those everlasting impression moments - your hospitality and kindness set a bar I strive to reach one day.

Joe

P.S. My dear friends Sheila & Rusty, from Idaho, are in Ireland right now! Safe travels & enjoy the emerald isle :)

For most of the journey, my blog posts were always a few days behind. As I rode closer to the east coast, that time lengthened - a week became the new norm.

As of right now, I am safely back in the Bay Area. I still have a few posts written and queued up.

The real story

Last night I didn't sleep one bit. I really thought I was over this by now... There were a few sleepless nights after the string of awakened between 1am and 3am in Wisconsin.

There was no reason to be nervous about my camping spot. It was secluded, somewhat difficult to reach, but still, I was awake all night.

I did have an encounter with a pair of hikers just as I was brushing my teeth last night. Their flashlights gave them away before anything else. My clearing was pitch black, on the edge of a cliff above a waterfall.

They climbed through the brush and I watched them, finally announcing myself to avoid scaring them. I didn't succeed. The loaded down bike broke the ice and they sauntered off after a brief chat about wild camping.

Regardless, I packed up the moment the sun rose.

I crossed back over the abandoned bridge to the connector road, en route to the town center, just five miles away.

And everywhere I looked, the mist rolled in over the hills.

I blazed through town, of course stopping to grab a coffee at the gas station. Usually, I heat some water and make my own, but there wasn't a single flat area where I was camping. The terrain was exclusively mossy rocks on a slight hill.

Just after town was the real destination. The folks I met yesterday suggested visiting the Singleton's General Store. I was griping about carrying perishable food and they said it would be worth it to visit this boutique butcher.

They also said, make sure you're there around breakfast.

I walked in to an eclectic general store. Stocked with flannel clothing and blankets, an entire aisle dedicated to whiskey and way in the back, a butcher's counter.

On one of the support beams in the place hung a menu; just a piece of paper with five breakfast items on it.

I'll have the breakfast burrito.

Which one...?

There was only one on the menu, but the guy clarified, what do you want on it, those are just guidelines...

Perfect. I asked for the most glorious breakfast burrito: eggs, pepper jack, house smoked bacon, a little salsa and guacamole.

And it was perfect.

I picked up a pepperoni that would age well in my bags (i.e. smoked) and enjoyed my breakfast in front of the store.

I will definitely be back - Singleton's General Store is quite incredible.

Despite not wanting to leave (almost considering another breakfast burrito), I moved on - pressing through the gravel roads nestled in the dense forests.

This was the view... everywhere.

A tulip (those are tulips... right?) farm, here and there.

I made it to Brattleboro, and quaint town on the border of Vermont and New Hampshire. My stay was brief and left me wanting more. One of those places I added to my list of towns to move to in the future.

Just eating some smoked pepperoni on Ritz crackers for lunch... admiring the view.

Crossing the river...

...then BAM, New Hampshire.

And suddenly, I was in Massachusetts.

Note to self: go back to New Hampshire and explore a little bit.

While in Brattleboro I googled a campground just across the border in Massachusetts that looked incredible. A low key place along a lake in the mountains.

I didn't pay attention to the mountains part until I got stuck climbing 1500 feet over the course of a mile just to clear a pass.

By the time I reached the site, and easy afternoon ride away (just by distance), I was exhausted. The hills were brutal.

In the sparsely populated campsite, Helen and Paul greeted me. They're on a similar journey, but on motorcycles.

After talking for a few minutes, I realized we had a lot in common, and collectively valued the experience of being on the road, exposed to humans we have never met.

Helen & Paul, you have a place to crash on the west coast. Please come out and visit. I enjoyed our brief time together - I won't be so tired and focused on finding a shower facility next time...

Joe

Also known as the Green Mountains in Vermont.

And the weather was so promising. Either that or I became comfortable with the beautiful weather yesterday. Just a single, perfect day with blue skies makes you forget about all the inclement weather woes experienced just beyond that day.

The moment I hit the road, loaded down with mostly dry gear, the rain poured.

Once soaked, I stopped in a tiny general store in a tiny town. Occupying a double-wide trailer, the store offered coffee and a roof, but not much else.

I felt like I was in the book, The Hobbit.

Nobody was out, and I car passed me every ten minutes or so.

About an hour until the sun set beyond the hills in the west, I came across a small establishment at the crossroads of a small town.

Inside, I asked the locals where to setup camp. They suggested multiple places, some closer than others, but all requiring some amount of climbing on a dirt road.

Eventually, one of them said to find an old road a couple miles south. There would be an abandoned bridge at the end - a perfect camping spot.

I headed off, easily found the road, but decided the bridge was unsuitable to camp on. Slanted, rough, too visible.

Pressing on, the road deteriorated from a two paved lanes to a single track swath cut through the area. I found a clearing hanging over the waterfall below and figured that was my best shot.

The moment camp was completely setup, a couple hiked into my area. I was completely hidden by the darkness, as was my tent.

I shouted at them, I'm camping over here just to avoid surprising them later.

They left immediately - I think I scared them.

The whole night I couldn't sleep.

Joe

I conveniently started the day an hour ride from the first brewery.

Unlike other days, where I find local craft brew establishments on my ride, this was premeditated. Ending up in this area was going to happen, regardless of the path I would take.

Vermont is known for their beer culture. In fact, Vermont has 10.8 breweries per capita (50 establishments total), which is the most of any state. Check out the Brewer's Association Statistics for some interesting factoids.

The three breweries on my itinerary today, The Alchemist, Lawson's Finest Liquids and Hill Farmstead have brews rated #4, #14 & #24 in the world (respectively). And on that list of the top 250 beers in the world, those three breweries have 27 entries, with the Hill Farmstead claiming 21.

I've heard horror stories about waiting in line for hours to aquire these rare brews, and even experienced it for myself a few years ago waiting to try Pliny the Younger, both successfully and unsuccessfully.

The Alchemist

I pedaled into The Alchemist's parking lot fifteen minutes before they opened. There were cars in the lot, and I could see people standing in the tap room. But not crowded, and no wait!

The tap room is nearly empty!

Inside, I had a flight of tasters: Heady Topper, Focal Banger and Crusher. I savored the experience of tasting these incredible IPAs - all were fantastic. My favorite was by far Focal Banger, an overwhelmingly hoppy american IPA.

There wasn't much to do aside from tasters and watch the brewers in the back, so I hopped back on the bike. I was still in the parking lot when a brewery employee flagged me down. She asked where I was riding from and insisted on taking my banana peel strapped to my pannier for compost.

Then she asked what my favorite Alchemist brew was, and I replied, Focal Banger. She told me to wait, rushed inside with the banana peel and returned with a can of beer for the road and a pickle.

You must be hungry.

I thanked her, wrapped the beer in a coozie to hopefully keep it cold, and headed to the next stop.

Hill Farmstead

Hill Farmstead is not in a location conducive to bicycles, several miles from a paved road. Also, it was also 33 miles from my location, in a direction I didn't want to go. However, earlier I got a recommendation for a tap house that would likely have their brews on tap.

I crossed my fingers.

Heading towards the Prohibition Pig, I rode through more of the beautiful rolling green hills in Vermont.

Photos do no justice, endless rolling green hills. Ahhh.

The Prohibition Pig had a single Hill Farmstead brew on tap: Edward, an american pale ale. I ordered a taster of that, and a quesadilla made with chorizo and topped with honey infused sour cream.

Both, absolutely incredible. I would have preferred to sample an IPA from the brewery, but my choice was limited.

It just means I have to plan a trip to the brewery in the future.

Lawson's Finest Liquids

While eating lunch at the Prohibition Pig, I saw a truck emblazened with Lawson's logo on it pull up, two guys hop out and start delivering beer to the pub.

Apparently, Lawson's delivers beer one day per week. And it usually sells out within a few hours. Thankfully, today was shipment day.

I also learned that they don't have a public brewery. There is nothing to visit, although rumor has it that they're building something.

I'd have to find a local store with their cans. Regardless of having a public brewery, I rode to the town where they reside, found a small market and picked up a can of Sip of Sunshine.

Next to the market was a peaceful creek, but they made it clear that enjoying beer outside was prohibited.

Hopefully the can would stay cold for a couple miles until I reached a primitive campsite next to another stream in the mountains.

I enjoyed this IPA sitting on a rock, watching and listening to the water, all by myself in the middle of the woods.

Sip of Sunshine is my favorite.

This has to be one of the best camping locations I've stayed at.

Same shot of the creek, but with no can obstructing the view...

Joe

Yet another recommendation for Vermont: Smugglers' Notch. Doug, from Lowville New York, actually recommended this ride. I set out from Burlington towards the mountains.

The road transformed from a hip university town, to a quaint village and finally to a dirt road cutting through the foothills.

I saw about three cars an hour on this road.

I was circling around Mount Mansfield, dabbling at 500 feet of elevation, mellow rolling hills to a paved road that would cut through the mountain.

Once on the pavement, the grade became steeper, and I climbed switchbacks up to about 2000 feet.

The road was breathtaking.

Fall is coming.

And finally, the notch.

I'm standing next to a rather uninspiring rock that marks the highest point of Smugglers' Notch.

Just before reaching the summit, cars lined the road, and I could hear the clank of climbing gear and people hollering out commands to their belayers' on the ground.

In hindsight, I should have stopped, and found a climbing partner. I miss climbing.

Instead, I barreled past the road sign indicating the next few miles were steep (18% grade) and flew down the mountain.

My bike has rim brakes and I wouldn't be able to stop if I tried.

Initially I thought wild camping would be feasible in the area, but after entering the forest, it quickly became apparent that the foliage was too dense, and not flat. That would mean camping on a damp hill, nestled between trees and bushes and definitely with all the critters.

Thankfully there was both a picnic area and state park campground on the descent from Smugglers' Notch.

I opted for the campground, as the picnic area was too exposed for sleeping soundly. When I pulled up to the ranger station, I picked up the last available campground. Lucky me.

My spot was nestled in a clearing of trees, about a 20 stair climb off the state park road.

Climbing stairs with my 90 pound bike is not fun.

Joe

My warmshowers host last night, John, informed me that an Ironman was occurring around the Lake Placid area, closing most of the roads.

Thankfully, we found an alternative route. I'd miss seeing the lake and town, but I would avoid a massive amount of people and impassible roads.

Sure enough, pulling up Google maps yielded a mess of roads highlighted in red. A part of me really wanted to just show up, ride on the course and see what happens... Not this time.

I headed out just as John set off to run a half marathon.

The day was cool, crisp and clearing up, the fog dissipating over the course of the morning.

Stopping for a snack on the side of the road: banana & trail mix.

The early start was to give me enough time to make it to Port Kent and catch the ferry across Lake Champlain to Burlington.

I made it with plenty of time to spare.

Along the way, I finally got to enjoy the Adirondacks without being wet.

Usually I don't post photos of the same thing, but the view off both sides of the bridge was too amazing to keep to myself.

I arrived in Port Kent with over an hour to spare. After chatting with the harbormaster and purchasing a ticket, I sat down on the grass in the shade to rest.

Over the course of the next hour, a bunch of cyclists trickled in and joined me.

One was a father / daughter combo out for a ride in the country. She had just finished her residency and was starting her first day as an internal medicine doctor the next day. Kudos!

We boarded the ferry and crossed the lake in about an hour, arriving in Burlington in the late afternoon.

Multiple people recommended I check out a brewery in town - I sampled four of their IPAs and was disappointed. All four tasted the same to me, and they weren't that great. There must be a common thread in the brewing process, or maybe they use the same strain of yeast in each beer, that doesn't jive with me.

But that is the beauty of the craft brew industry - there are flavor profiles and beer styles for every palate. Not every brewery will cater to your taste buds.

I won't mention the brewery's name to avoid detracting from another persons visit.

The second most recommended establishment was a grocery store co-op. The sandwich I ordered was fantastic, and easily made up for the disappointing beer.

Joe

Yet another morning sitting in the tent, waiting for the rain to stop.

I probably sat longer than necessary too, just because the foliage was so dense, the rain continued dripping off the tree leaves long after it fell from the sky.

I made breakfast and coffee at one of the picnic tables nearby while putting off packing up my soaked tent.

Just after starting the days ride, I passed the first hint of fall. Dean, from Barkeater, said that the plateau above the town had a freeze last week, coercing the trees to start their autumn colors a little early.

I'm honestly not sure what town I stopped in for lunch. I noticed that Google maps has labels for the areas, consistent with what you expect from a map. But upon entering the area, the local businesses could be named after anyone of the two or three labels surrounding the area.

The point is, I was in the mountains, in one of four towns on the map. I ate a Philly cheesesteak at the diner to make up for missing Philadelphia. It was delicious.

Thankfully, the rain subsided after lunch. Everything I own was wet, but the scenery made up for it.

I planned to end up near Lake Placid, and lined up a warmshowers outside of Saranac lake.

At this point, I was thankful to have a roof over my head for a night. It probably wouldn't rain, but I just needed to get out of the weather.

Just outside of town, I passed one of the many stunning lakes in the area.

I met my warmshowers host just as they lit the candles for a birthday party inside. Once blown out, he showed me to my room and I headed into town, deadset on grabbing pizza. The first place I found on the quaint main street had a white pizza that sounded incredible: ricotta, garlic, etc.

I ate the whole thing.

And the sky is perfectly clear.

Joe

Doug and I left to grab breakfast a little after 8 am. There was a diner about an hour away via bike that we agreed to meet at.

When I pulled up, the weather still overcast from the night before, Doug's Volvo was in the parking lot and I joined him for breakfast.

We both had the diner's special omelette - fantastic.

This is Doug.

Doug, thank you for your hospitality, kindness and hanging out with me. It means a lot.

The Adirondack mountains are beautiful. I wasn't originally going to head this way, but I am glad I did. A friend recommended the route after mentioning that I might head through Pennsylvania to Philadelphia. Despite really wanting to see Philly, I'd much rather be in the mountains than a big city.

Around two in the afternoon it started raining again.

By the way, Wikipedia claims that Adirondack means tree eater in the Mohawk language. Specifically, porcupine, or animal that eats bark...

Ahhhh that makes sense: Barkeater Craft Brewery.

I eventually ended up in Star Lake, a small town in the heart of the mountains. With no plans for the evening, I asked some of the employees at the gas station in town if they had any camping recommendations.

Aside from the designated area in Cranberry Lake, about ten miles up the road, they suggested a rest area in the middle. It should be quiet enough and I wouldn't be bothered.

Upon leaving the gas station, I captured the sky during sunset.

The rest area had a bunch of picnic tables and these little finger paths into the woods. I picked one on the right side and setup my tent in the dark. Everything was wet, and the forecast claimed the area would see rain for most of the night.

Joe

In the middle of the night, some creature nested itself in the vestibule of my tent. The rain fly extends off the side of the tent about two feet to provide some ground space that won't get wet during a storm, but outside the main part of the tent.

I was too afraid to poke it or shoo it away in case it was a skunk. The last thing I need is to be sprayed by a skunk.

It kept me awake for a couple hours during the torrential downpour. Eventually the critter scurried away, letting me get a tiny bit of sleep before sunrise.

The break in the rain was short. Enough to pack up camp, hurry to the nearest coffee joint about five miles away and hunker down for the next storm.

I sat there for three hours, not in the mood to ride in the rain and get wet. During the next break in the rain, I took off and made it a few miles, before the next wave of rain showed up. Thankfully, at the exact time I passed an unused, covered produce stand.

Lunch time.

After that, the weather behaved.

About ten miles out of Watertown, I opted to avoid the city, and head straight into the mountains.

The scenery was the best I've seen in a while. Beautiful forests and rolling hills.

And at the plateau, an incredible section of small farming towns, mostly Amish, and tons of windmills.

While descending from the plateau into the town of Lowville, I saw two things. The first was an Amish guy maneuvering a dual horse drawn buggy across the road to a nearby field - the first non-motorized vehicle I've seen so far.

The second was a massive helicopter mounted to a pole on the side of the road.

Once in town, I found the Barkeaters.

Barkeater is a small brewery just off the main street of Lowville New York. I rode past, saw it was opened and descided to take a peek inside.

I was greeted by the bartender (later learning he was the owner), saying my eyes would adjust to the dimly lit area. They had four brews on tap and I tried their double IPA.

It was absolutely fantastic.

Dean, the owner, told me about the history of the brewery, the small test batches they brew in the back room and the production facility they have down the road.

Also at the bar was Doug, a local, that upon finding out I was traveling by bike, said I could crash at his place tonight. He said, you can ride there, or I'll be back around 10 to pick you up.

Doug had toured via bicycle in the past, and was also an avid mountain biker. He currently spends his time working on custom tattoos and body art. He took off an said he'd be back later.

I also met Jim & Mary Anne, sitting next to me at the bar, and had a wonderful conversation with them.

The rain picked up so I stayed.

Dean recommended the restaurant next door and I ordered a salad to go. Greens rarely keep on the road, so any chance I can get some fresh veggies, I jump on it. Dean is quite an artist. I learned that he created all of the art on the wall - exquisite drawings of nature and animals (in charcoal I think...).

A solo guitarist started playing in the corner of the brewery - Brittany. She was great, playing a mix of original songs and classics.

Dean, concocting a backup plan just in case Doug didn't return, told me to put my bike in the basement to keep it dry. He said I could crash in his spare bedroom if I needed to.

But, sure enough, around ten, Doug returned with a few friends. One was Pauline, about my age, who just quit her job (today) and was thinking about traveling around the country on bike.

What is the irony of that?

I hope I convinced her to embark on a cycle tour.

Brittany ended her set with some original songs, we loaded my bike in the truck, and headed to Doug's place.

Thank you so much to everyone I met - bursting with generosity, kindness and friendship. Dean, Doug, Jim, Mary Anne, Pauline, Brittany & everyone else - I hope our paths cross again.

I wish you the best. Thank you.

Joe.

Steve warned me yesterday that the firestation's air horn might go off in the middle of the night. The horn blasts a code three times, signaling to the volunteer firefighters where the emergency is occurring.

Sure enough, about five in the morning, the first blast startled me awake. There was no one in town that could sleep through it.

The code was two blasts followed by a brief pause, then a single blast. I don't know where in town the 2-1 code indicated, but I'm proud that I remembered it.

I made sure to get up before 7am to say farewell to Steve before he went home. I made it with minutes to spare.

From there I walked across the canal to grab some coffee and breakfast.

You can see my tent in the right side of the photo.

Then I packed up, and took off, heading up a small country road that Steve recommended.

Thank you Lyons Fire Department. You're awesome.

I was clearly in Amish country. I passed countless signs indicating that buggies might be on the road - although I didn't see any.

A few of the enormous, white houses on the side of the road clearly had no electrical connection and dozens of the same style shirts hanging from the clothes line out front.

I'd like to spend a day with an Amish family to see what it is like.

But there wasn't a soul on the road, or in the fields nearby.

While passing through Oswego, I stopped at a park and harbor sitting on the lake. Lunch was the usual tuna wrap, this time the thai chili flavor.

A paddle boarder approached me while sitting at the harbor and told me about a much better road to take north than the state highway. I could ride on it all the way to Selkirk Shores State Park & campground by sunset.

A couple miles out of the state park, I passed through Mexico. The sign said, Welcome to Mexico, New York. I chuckled.

They had a nice little park on the lake, but definitely not suitable for camping. There were plenty of signs clearly indicating overnight guests were not welcome.

Good think I knew about the Selkirk Shores campground.

I arrived just in time to watch the sun set behind a bunch of trees.

The weather forecast indicated there would be rain all night, so I made sure to put the tarp over my bike before I fell asleep.

Joe

The entire campground transformed into a lake overnight. I thankfully had an unscathed spot, but the rain pummeled so hard all night that the seams on my tent started leaking.

Note to self, repair the seams on my tent when I get home.

Despite not waking up in the middle of the lake, my tent was still filled with water. The first break in the storm I moved everything to a pavilion just a few steps away.

Drying out all my gear.

I should have camped in it last night, but I didn't see it in the dark.

With the rain still falling, and absolutely no motivation to ride, I sat under the shelter of the pavilion watch Netflix. This rain is becoming a bit annoying.

You can see the rain falling in the cover photo for this post. Endless rain.

But of course, eventually it cleared up and I hit the road - a muddy bike path.

I found a set of car keys in the mud - for a Subaru and complete with a house key and those little grocery rewards cards. Unsure what to do, I picked them up. I figured that the local grocery store would be able to determine who they belonged to.

But just a mile or two later, I passed a woman riding a bicycle and said, hey, did you loose your keys?

Sure enough, they had fallen out of her pocket.

Pay if forward.

And then I got another flat. I knew it was going to happen - the first patch I applied last night blew instantly, and the second I didn't expect to hold. The patches were months old, subjected to weather extremes and a hostile environment.

I picked up some spare tubes at the Walmart nearby and replaced the tube.

All good so far.

The riding was actually spectacular - wet, but nice. At least it wasn't raining anymore and my tubes were holding air. Enjoy the little things.

With less than thirty miles accomplished for the day, I stopped at the Lyons Fire Department. I saw a sign on the bike path upon entering the town of Lyons to register with them for free internet access, a place to camp and showers.

I met Steve, the on-staff driver. A volunteer fire department, Lyons FD boasts that they have an employee (or driver) on staff 24/7. Steve showed me the facilities and let me clean up.

He also told me the history of the town, gave me great suggestions and went over my route for the next few days. He suggested a few changes to get off the busier roads and ride through the country - something I would have never guessed from staring at Google Maps.

One of his suggestions was to stroll around town during the evening and see all the historic buildings.

Thank you Steve for your company and hospitality. You, and the Lyons Fire Department, are incredible.

I camped in their backyard, a nice grassy lawn right along the canal.

Joe

Curtis and Ericha were up early; by the time I emerged from my tent, they were nearly ready to sail off.

I wished them farewell and help pushed their boat away from the dock.

But as the boat swung into the center of the canal, just clearing the boat docked in front of them, Ericha yelled at me to watch out.

The mast hanging several feet off the back of the boat was swinging right towards me. I ducked with a second to spare, the mast arcing over my head.

Thanks for the heads up, that would have been unpleasant.

Then I met Tom, the captain of the third sailboat. He is a school principal, taking a year long sabbatical to sail to Cuba. He is joined by his two high school aged sons, just starting home-school lessons today. Seeing the entirety of the adventure as a learning experience, Tom tailors the lessons to accommodate nautical themes.

Tom invited me to crew on his boat for a bit, but I politely declined. I need to finish my own adventure first. See you on the seas next time!

Ready to leave, I had to say farewell to Matt & Bernice. Matt had just showed up riding his ultra compact, foldable bicycle complete with a Brooks saddle, and Bernice was filling one of the sailboats water tanks.

Thanks for everything!

I continued down the canal trail into Rochester. I was hoping to grab a garbage place at the legendary Dogtown, but unfortunately they were closed. I ate lunch elsewhere, hopped back on the canal and headed out of the city.

In Fairport, I met some wonderful cyclists and shared a beer with them. They suggested I go to Wegmans, a legendary grocery store located only the Rochester area. Veering from my route, I headed to the grocery store and it was completely worth it. Imagine a massive, wonderfully stocked Whole Foods. Wegmans had an amazing prepared food section and the nicest staff, including one employee that helped me find an aged cheddar that wouldn't separate in my bags.

I'm not sure I've been this excited about a grocery store before...

Stocked up on food, I left the Wegmans en-route to a canal campground in Macedon. About 2 miles from the campground, my front tire went flat. I hit a massive pothole that must have pinched the tube. The sun was about to set, so fixing the flat quickly was of the utmost importance.

The last flat I experienced was the day Dave and I parted ways in Los Angeles. The day after that, I located a bike shop and replaced the offending Gatorskin tire with a Schwalbe Marathon Plus tire. It held without issue for over four thousand miles.

That seems pretty good.

Unfortunately, my first patch didn't hold, forcing me to repair the flat again. The second held and got me to the campground. Already pitch black, I setup camp in the designated area, fixed dinner (cheese, crackers and salami from Wegmans) and fell asleep with all my gear tarped and secured for the impending thunderstorm.

Joe

It rained all night.

And well into the morning. Eventually, after sitting in my tent awake for nearly two hours, I opted to cut my losses and pack up.

I took down camp as fast as possible and headed towards a covered pavilion I saw last night.

A few minutes after taking shelter in the pavilion, the downpour eased to a light drizzle. Regardless, it was coffee time.

The view of Lake Ontario was perfect.

Some days I am excited to hop on the bike. This is not one of those days. I watched a movie on Netflix for a while, drinking coffee, letting the rain continue to fall. I chatted with one of the park employees for a bit, trying to convince her to go on a bike tour - the weather was not working to my advantage.

I cut back down from the lake to the Erie Canal out of Lockeport. A bike trail runs parallel to the waterway across the state of New York. Just before hitting the canal, I found this river.

It doesn't look like much, but it had a strange phenomenon going on. The top layer was completely flat. Absolutely still. But right beneath that film of water and algae, the water was moving - and you could see the ripples and current. I've never seen anything like it.

Once on the canal, it was a straight shot to Holley New York. I spent the ride admiring all the houses, fields and yards along the canal - waving at the boaters and kayakers.

Definitely the most fitting play structure for the area.

And remember my favorite tree, the weeping willow? They were everywhere.

I don't remember the water being that green... but I guess it was.

While crossing over a dam, I met a few cycle tourists. The bike path changes from a nice crushed rock trail, lined with grass to a sheer drop on one side, complete with rapids and falls. Right in the middle, John & Nate showed up.

They are riding from Rochester to Buffalo and back, taking advantage of the weekend. That also explains why they can pack so lightly.

They said they found a bridge, a couple miles down the path, crossing the canal but isolated from the road. The connecting segments had been torn down. So they climbed one of the pillars to jump off into the canal. Far more adventurous than me.

We bid each other safe travels and pressed on.

The canal path stayed beautiful, all the way into Holley.

I heard the town had a boat dock that bicyclists can also use for camping and showers.

When I showed up, there were four people seated at a picnic table next to the sailboats docked alongside the path. They introduced themselves: Ericha & Curtis from Detroit, and Matt & Bernice from Wisconsin. Both sailing down the canal to the Atlantic Ocean, and eventually to the Bahamas.

The weather turned and Ericha suggested we continue the party on their boat.

Bernice, Matt, Curtis & Ericha.

We had a fantastic evening; fresh food Bernice prepared from the market, and wonderful conversation filled with nautical terms I didn't understand. But I learned a lot.

And now I know that the halyard is one of the many ropes on a sailboat. And you should not refer to the ropes as... well, ropes.

Thank you so much for including me in your adventures.

Safe travels and enjoy the Bahamas!

Joe

I joined Tyler and his father, Cliff, for breakfast; a fantastic omelette with an english muffin. We talked about touring and where I should head from Buffalo. They recommended that I take the Peace Bridge over to Canada and ride back to the U.S. in Niagra Falls.

Just before taking off, Cliff insisted we weigh my bike. I didn't have much water weight on it (my 3 liter reserve is empty, and I keep it that way in metropolitan areas), so it clocked in at 85 pounds. A significant reduction from the 110 it weighed in Montana.

Their house is only minutes away from the Peace Bridge and I quickly discovered that the crossing is closed to bicycles and pedestrians. The bridge offers a shuttle that you can call... so I left.

I'm not going to bother with a shuttle.

Over there... that is Canada.

Instead, I rode the bike path on the U.S. side all the way to Niagara Falls. I kept leap-frogging a group of local cyclists, including one who grew up in the area but now works in Seattle - for New Belgium. And he was riding a New Belgium bicycle.

Then, I came across Sam, Gene and John.

They were sitting in the grass, fixing a flat tire. Only problem was that this was the second flat in ten minutes, had no spare tubes and there were several punctures in the tire.

I gave them one of the spare tubes in my bag. They were up and running within a few minutes.

Pay it forward.

New York has some fantastic bike routes. I pedaled all the way to Niagara Falls on this bike path. Even the massive bridges accommodate bikers.

The falls appear abruptly. The bike path follows the river, which goes from complacent to rapids instantly.

Then, throngs of tourists. And the falls.

I wanted to experience the other attractions at the falls, but I didn't realize they'd be like amusment park rides, with visitors lined up waiting for hours.

Nope.

I rode north to the devil's hole and met a fellow traveler. She decided one day to go exploring and now lives out of her truck, traveling all over the states.

She found me, noticing the bags and gear.

Safe travels.

She was not a fan of the gondola that slowly crossed over the water.

And that was only half the day.

The rest was spent getting as far away from Niagara Falls as possible. Too many people.

I ended up in Wilson, New York, where I setup camp in a butterfly preserve. There were no butterflies present, probably due to the rain, but it was big and secluded.

Joe

Riding from the state park, I arrived in Buffalo New York by noon. Just a lazy, easy ride.

I explored the city a bit and then met my warmshowers host, Tyler. He is about my age, living in the heart of the city. He offered to let me camp in his backyard, which is wonderful, because big cities are more difficult to find places to setup my tent.

Tyler rode self supported from Buffalo to the west coast last year and his father runs a bicycle touring camp for teens. The whole family lives and breathes bicycles.

He suggested I head down to Allentown for dinner; a trendy, artsy area of Buffalo.

I really enjoyed walking around and eating Buffalo Poutine (standard poutine topped with chicken and buffalo sauce), while watching Arrested Development (one of my favorite series) on the diner's TV.

That is about it. No photos.

But, I'd like to discuss the future of this blog - I have a few ideas. Once I reach Boston in a couple weeks, the tour will be over and I'll fly back to the Bay Area.

I intend to go on some weekend bike packing trips, which should provide some fodder for blog posts, but that might happen once a month. Do you have any suggestions for other content I can post regularly?

My list so far:

• Stories about the warmshowers guests that I'll host
• Interactions with people while riding around the Bay Area
• Gear reviews for camping, cycling, etc.
• Cycle touring route guides
• The van conversion (detailing the progress of converting a standard van into a camper)

I welcome any and all suggestions! What would you like to see?

Thanks folks.

Joe