...about our whereabouts! We finished the trip on a great high, feeling so blessed to have been taken care of by wonderful people all across the country, with lots of support from friends and family along the way. Many thanks to everyone who helped us and encouraged us and cooked delicious food for us and let us sleep in their guest room or family room or backyard. We hope to be able to extend the same open door we were greeted with nearly everywhere we went... as soon as we have one!
As of the end of September, Matt is back in Portland, OR, looking for work, and Anna is traveling again, this time to visit sisters in France and Serbia, and in Mexico. If you would like to hear about her most recent adventures, she is starting another blog (so she won't have to share the credit for eloquent writing and perceptive insights with Matt) that you can see at annaonthemove.blogspot.com.
Thanks again, friends, and keep in touch!
email:
annasommo@gmail.com and matthewcrampton@gmail.com
snailmail: 257 Peabody Rd Appleton, ME 04862
Practice run
Still wet behind the ears
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
South Royalton, VT to APPLETON, MAINE!! FIN
From South Royalton we pushed on through the Green Mountains and made quick time of the rest of VT. The ride consisted largely of winding roads along side babbling creeks. It was a fragrant farm country preparing for apple season. Upon reaching the Connecticut River Valley we followed the CT River north for a few miles before crossing over to New Hampshire. A little short of our mileage goal for the day, we asked a local apple farmer for a lawn to camp on. He kindly offered up a spot beneath the monkey bars and behind the swing set. We cooked dinner to a gorgeous view of the mountains and visited with the resident goats before calling it an early night (the next morning would bring over 5000 feet of vertical climb and we wanted to be ready).
Morning on the orchard was thick. The fog enshrouding the CT River surrounded our tent, soaked our drying clothes and left little drops of condensation inside the rain fly that would trickle down on us if we moved too abruptly. Morning also brought cider donuts and blueberry pancakes. Lucky for us, the Windy Ridge Orchard sported a small cafe that fired up a griddle at 7am. They let us in at a quarter till'.
The day was grueling. The first climb took us up 2500 feet of elevation through two ascents, one a false summit. On the way, we stopped at a beaver pond along side the Appalachian Trail and admired the rocky outcroppings. We paused to take photos of streams that had carved sinuous beds out of the rock face. The clearing amidst the mixed coniferous canopy allowed for spectacular views of the surrounding summits, many of which, we learned, may have once stood over 12,000'. Glacial activity in the region wore down the great Appalachians leaving gradual slopes on the NW sides of the mountains and sharp contours to their SE.
On the first long decent, we stopped at a playful cascade and took many photos of ourselves perched atop huge boulders and tried to visualize the force that over the years had carved them into their current forms. Unfortunately, there were signs all over the place reinforcing the rule of no swimming in the cascades. It was easy to imagine how attractive the drops into cascade plunge pools would be to hormone heavy teens hoping to show off to their peers. Anna reminded Matt more than once that she wouldn't be impressed.
The next climb was known to the locals as "The Kanc"; Kancamagus Pass. It is named after the last ruler of the Pennacook Confederacy of Tribes, which populated the area until the 1690s when conflicts with European settlers forced them north to Canada. The Pennacook farmed maize, corn and squash in the fertile river beds and hunted in the vast wooded areas. Kancamagus means "The Fearless One". The 2000+ peak separates two major watersheds in the NE. The western slope drains to the Merrimack River which reaches the Atlantic at Newburyport, Massachusetts while the eastern slope drains to the Saco River, which joins the ocean at Saco, Maine. The gradual incline slowly revealed the surrounding landscape, defined by long sloping ridges and broken peaks once buried under a mile of ice.
En route, we learned about the increasing popularity of the region. Recreational users flocked to the White Mountains in the early 1800's for hiking, snowshoeing, skiing and horse packing. In the 1900's, the Society for the Protection of New Hampshire Forests began the movement to protect the White Mountains. By 1911, Congress passed the Weeks Act which created the White Mountains National Forest. The following half century brought much delegation over decision making whether or not to introduce tunnels through the region, how to manage forest practices, and the publicised battle over protecting the mountain passes from four-lane highways. By the passing of the Wilderness Act in 1977, protection agencies had acquired over 77,000 acres in the White Mountains. The following two decades would add over 150,000 more.
At the top of the 'Kanc' we came across the ROMEOS (Retired Old Men Eating Out), a motorcycle group who were very interested in our trip. During our descent, each of them gave a signature wave and a stylized honk of the horn. We also stopped at an old homestead that is maintained by the Park Service about 15 miles west of Conway, in an area that was once a bustling logging town. We walked around the house which retained all of the original timbers from it's construction in the 1700s. The house had a sad story connected to it; in the late 1800s, a couple lived in the house, which at that point was one of only a few homesteads left in the area. One day the husband, Thomas Colbath, went out for an evening walk and told his wife, Ruth-Priscilla, that he would be back in a little while. Well, a little while turned out to be 40 years! She never gave up hope for his return, and placed a lantern in the window every night until she died. He did return three years after her death, but had no real explanation for where he had been or why he had left.
After a quick swim in the Swift River, which we followed all the way into Conway, NH, we arrived at our evenings accommodations with Dr. Becky Mulkern, whom we'd found through the couchsurfing.com website. It turns out that her son Casey is a co-founder of the website! If you haven't seen/tried it, it is a really amazing way to travel and meet people from around the world. Becky was very kind to us, cooking us up some dinner before she had to rush to a meeting. We walked into Conway that evening and met some friendly locals at the movie theater.
The next morning it was only a short cruise to MAINE! We made our way through Fryeburg, and into the international section of Maine. We passed through Norway, Paris and Sweden all in the same day! We were excited to see the popularity of the local food movement is also in Maine, as we passed many farms and stopped at the food co-op in Norway to see local foods featured in the area's tourism magazine. After a grueling ride up an incredibly steep hill, we stopped for a snack at an apple orchard owned by Steven King's sister-in-law, a fact which we found out from some friendly folks who have a cabin in the area.
For our last night on the trip we were treated to a delicious meal and great conversation with another of Matt's aunt's childhood friends living in Buckfield, ME, Margot and Bob Siekman. The five mile detour to their house was well-worth it as we relaxed in their kitchen overlooking a hayfield and surrounding wooded hills. They sent us off in the morning with fresh waffles, covered in their own just-picked high bush blueberries.
The final day of the trip began with, wouldn't you know it, an ice cream stop. What was supposed to be a quick stop to check the map ended up with a triple-decker scoop of chocolate peanut butter cup. Fully fueled up, we carved a winding path through once-cleared wood lots and crossed our fingers that the days forecast for rain showers would let us pass unhindered. By the time we reached Richmond, ME we were still dry and enjoying lunch on the banks of the
Kennebec River. The overgrown rock walls that line all the roads, as well as the many old cemeteries, stacked firewood and fields of goldenrod were comfortingly New England. We both grew up here, and the familiar sights, sounds and smells were a great way to wind down the trip.
The last leg of our journey brought us to Route 1 just inland of Damariscotta. We made quick time of Route 1 as it was full of vacationers flocking all the Maine coast towns. There is a good reason Maine is known as vacationland, particularly on Labor Day weekend. Anna's Dad and sister met us on the road, and gave us a grand escort to the finish line (don't worry, it was a tie!), where friends waited to welcome us home. To see photos of the last part, click on the picture of the river, below.
Morning on the orchard was thick. The fog enshrouding the CT River surrounded our tent, soaked our drying clothes and left little drops of condensation inside the rain fly that would trickle down on us if we moved too abruptly. Morning also brought cider donuts and blueberry pancakes. Lucky for us, the Windy Ridge Orchard sported a small cafe that fired up a griddle at 7am. They let us in at a quarter till'.
The day was grueling. The first climb took us up 2500 feet of elevation through two ascents, one a false summit. On the way, we stopped at a beaver pond along side the Appalachian Trail and admired the rocky outcroppings. We paused to take photos of streams that had carved sinuous beds out of the rock face. The clearing amidst the mixed coniferous canopy allowed for spectacular views of the surrounding summits, many of which, we learned, may have once stood over 12,000'. Glacial activity in the region wore down the great Appalachians leaving gradual slopes on the NW sides of the mountains and sharp contours to their SE.
On the first long decent, we stopped at a playful cascade and took many photos of ourselves perched atop huge boulders and tried to visualize the force that over the years had carved them into their current forms. Unfortunately, there were signs all over the place reinforcing the rule of no swimming in the cascades. It was easy to imagine how attractive the drops into cascade plunge pools would be to hormone heavy teens hoping to show off to their peers. Anna reminded Matt more than once that she wouldn't be impressed.
The next climb was known to the locals as "The Kanc"; Kancamagus Pass. It is named after the last ruler of the Pennacook Confederacy of Tribes, which populated the area until the 1690s when conflicts with European settlers forced them north to Canada. The Pennacook farmed maize, corn and squash in the fertile river beds and hunted in the vast wooded areas. Kancamagus means "The Fearless One". The 2000+ peak separates two major watersheds in the NE. The western slope drains to the Merrimack River which reaches the Atlantic at Newburyport, Massachusetts while the eastern slope drains to the Saco River, which joins the ocean at Saco, Maine. The gradual incline slowly revealed the surrounding landscape, defined by long sloping ridges and broken peaks once buried under a mile of ice.
En route, we learned about the increasing popularity of the region. Recreational users flocked to the White Mountains in the early 1800's for hiking, snowshoeing, skiing and horse packing. In the 1900's, the Society for the Protection of New Hampshire Forests began the movement to protect the White Mountains. By 1911, Congress passed the Weeks Act which created the White Mountains National Forest. The following half century brought much delegation over decision making whether or not to introduce tunnels through the region, how to manage forest practices, and the publicised battle over protecting the mountain passes from four-lane highways. By the passing of the Wilderness Act in 1977, protection agencies had acquired over 77,000 acres in the White Mountains. The following two decades would add over 150,000 more.
At the top of the 'Kanc' we came across the ROMEOS (Retired Old Men Eating Out), a motorcycle group who were very interested in our trip. During our descent, each of them gave a signature wave and a stylized honk of the horn. We also stopped at an old homestead that is maintained by the Park Service about 15 miles west of Conway, in an area that was once a bustling logging town. We walked around the house which retained all of the original timbers from it's construction in the 1700s. The house had a sad story connected to it; in the late 1800s, a couple lived in the house, which at that point was one of only a few homesteads left in the area. One day the husband, Thomas Colbath, went out for an evening walk and told his wife, Ruth-Priscilla, that he would be back in a little while. Well, a little while turned out to be 40 years! She never gave up hope for his return, and placed a lantern in the window every night until she died. He did return three years after her death, but had no real explanation for where he had been or why he had left.
After a quick swim in the Swift River, which we followed all the way into Conway, NH, we arrived at our evenings accommodations with Dr. Becky Mulkern, whom we'd found through the couchsurfing.com website. It turns out that her son Casey is a co-founder of the website! If you haven't seen/tried it, it is a really amazing way to travel and meet people from around the world. Becky was very kind to us, cooking us up some dinner before she had to rush to a meeting. We walked into Conway that evening and met some friendly locals at the movie theater.
The next morning it was only a short cruise to MAINE! We made our way through Fryeburg, and into the international section of Maine. We passed through Norway, Paris and Sweden all in the same day! We were excited to see the popularity of the local food movement is also in Maine, as we passed many farms and stopped at the food co-op in Norway to see local foods featured in the area's tourism magazine. After a grueling ride up an incredibly steep hill, we stopped for a snack at an apple orchard owned by Steven King's sister-in-law, a fact which we found out from some friendly folks who have a cabin in the area.
For our last night on the trip we were treated to a delicious meal and great conversation with another of Matt's aunt's childhood friends living in Buckfield, ME, Margot and Bob Siekman. The five mile detour to their house was well-worth it as we relaxed in their kitchen overlooking a hayfield and surrounding wooded hills. They sent us off in the morning with fresh waffles, covered in their own just-picked high bush blueberries.
The final day of the trip began with, wouldn't you know it, an ice cream stop. What was supposed to be a quick stop to check the map ended up with a triple-decker scoop of chocolate peanut butter cup. Fully fueled up, we carved a winding path through once-cleared wood lots and crossed our fingers that the days forecast for rain showers would let us pass unhindered. By the time we reached Richmond, ME we were still dry and enjoying lunch on the banks of the
Kennebec River. The overgrown rock walls that line all the roads, as well as the many old cemeteries, stacked firewood and fields of goldenrod were comfortingly New England. We both grew up here, and the familiar sights, sounds and smells were a great way to wind down the trip.
The last leg of our journey brought us to Route 1 just inland of Damariscotta. We made quick time of Route 1 as it was full of vacationers flocking all the Maine coast towns. There is a good reason Maine is known as vacationland, particularly on Labor Day weekend. Anna's Dad and sister met us on the road, and gave us a grand escort to the finish line (don't worry, it was a tie!), where friends waited to welcome us home. To see photos of the last part, click on the picture of the river, below.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Back in the Mountains: Brighton, NY to South Royalton, VT
Leaving Brighton we made a quick stop at the Bagel Bin to stock up on a favorite carb cache. After many many miles of disappointing bready ringlets painfully labeled as bagels, the sight of a true New York bagel store had us running... or pedaling... whatever.
Full of crispy exterior and soft interior goodness we headed back to the Lake Erie Canalway Trail. We pedaled past draw bridges and tourist-laden river craft for ~20 more miles of trail before heading north to Lake Ontario. The trip north took us through the second largest apple producing county in the nation (after whatever county Seattle, WA is in). As we made our way to Sodus, NY we stopped briefly to grab a fishing license. The ensuing visions of trout over warm coals were enough to keep up our momentum despite the unexpected 6 mile detour required to trace the Lake Ontario coast to our night's camp site... yet another trailer-filled, waterfront lot (no... we didn't catch squat... but not to worry... we didn't even have time to dwell on our deflated hopes for a fishy meal as our attention quickly shifted to the evenings torrential downpour, giving way to the early mornings torrential downpour with a side of 40 mi/hr winds).
As it turns out, 2.5 hrs of sleep is just enough to get you 63 miles. The day's ride through an orchard rich countryside lead us to Selkirk Shore State Park. The sunset was breathtaking and Matt didn't even mind learning that the recently acquired fishing pole didn't have enough line to reach more than 25 ft off shore, trumping his every effort at making the most of the week-long fishing license.
*note: despite the negative undertone of the preceding paragraphs, NY State was proving to be a wonderful threshold to reaching New England. (at this point it may be worth mentioning that ol' Selkirk has a little secret... it is riddled with skunks and raccoons... both of which graced us with their presence and - er - fragrance that evening).
Dawn brought dewdrops, morning doves and many thanks that the preceding evening's skunk vs. raccoon battle royal didn't end up leaving a longer lasting impression on our camping gear. Riding through the increasingly hilly terrain was accompanied by the perfect riding temperature and we made quick time of 60 miles en route to Boonville, NY. We arrived just in time to sign up for the local talent show at the friendly 1950's soda fountain. Matt decided that competing against a field of 10 year-old American Idol hopefuls and 60 or better sock hop veterans was not the place to display a barrage of beat box antics and opted instead to retire to Stych's Camp Barn to watch the Olympics in both Canadian and US coverage.
Friendly Stych (Dan) welcomed us with open arms, gave us free reign of the barn accommodations and showed us the way to perhaps the most pleasant camping site we had to date. The expansive property boasted an undulating field of glacially formed eskers (offering gorgeous views of the countryside) and a babbling brook swollen with the month's heavy rains swirling to avoid massive boulders (known as erratics) carried into place by the regions notorious glacial tongues.
Heading deeper into the Adirondack mountains, we saw other evidence of the glacial history of the region. Deep lacerations of bedrock (schist, basalt, sandstone, and limestone) alerted us to seasonal streams and waterfalls. Pockets etched out of the hills were formed of glacial lakes and deposits of debris resulting in current-day lakes at varying altitudes. We found many places to stop, swim and curse at the complete inability to entice a single fish to bite our rubbery worm imitations.
The towns of the upper Adirondacks were charming and delightfully irritating in their impeccable ability to draw tourists to their overpriced bounty. It was in this context that we met Big Bad Bruce. A seasoned recumbent bicycle tourist, Bruce was managing the hills with a bum kneecap forcing him to lug his 14' bicycle across the grain of hills with one leg. To his credit, the fearless iron horse rider achieved 50+ speeds careening down mountainsides we only dared white knuckle.
Approaching VT, we hopped on our 3rd ferry of the trip to cross into the green mountain state. Not yet completely put out by his fruitless efforts, Matt cast his lures out into the NY waters until the 10-car ferry made port and required his retirement.
Almost as soon as we disembarked in the new state, we found ourselves back in farm country. New England at this time of year is brimming with garden goodies and orchard treats. Not 5 miles from the ferry did we stop and load up on apples and plums (cider was not yet quite ready). We rolled into Middlebury that evening and enjoyed more local food at the Two Brothers Tavern before being picked up by Sue Levine. Sue graciously offered up her in-law cabin for the evening and was even willing to tote us between Middlebury and her town of New Haven both that evening and the following morning. Thanks Sue and Charlie! Your new home is lovely.
We now find ourselves alternating between sitting in a hot tub and lounging in leather lazy boys to watch whatever daytime programming we are able to digest. Matt's aunt, Jane Reed, called up a childhood friend, Kit Hood, in South Royalton, VT to alert her to our trans-am route. Kit kindly offered up her house despite not being around to greet us and told us to make ourselves at home. We thoroughly appreciate the beautiful house nestled in the green mountains and are appreciating our last day off before making the final push to Appleton, ME. Thanks Kit and Allen. Take a look in the freezer to find a home-made treat as a token of our thanks.
Full of crispy exterior and soft interior goodness we headed back to the Lake Erie Canalway Trail. We pedaled past draw bridges and tourist-laden river craft for ~20 more miles of trail before heading north to Lake Ontario. The trip north took us through the second largest apple producing county in the nation (after whatever county Seattle, WA is in). As we made our way to Sodus, NY we stopped briefly to grab a fishing license. The ensuing visions of trout over warm coals were enough to keep up our momentum despite the unexpected 6 mile detour required to trace the Lake Ontario coast to our night's camp site... yet another trailer-filled, waterfront lot (no... we didn't catch squat... but not to worry... we didn't even have time to dwell on our deflated hopes for a fishy meal as our attention quickly shifted to the evenings torrential downpour, giving way to the early mornings torrential downpour with a side of 40 mi/hr winds).
As it turns out, 2.5 hrs of sleep is just enough to get you 63 miles. The day's ride through an orchard rich countryside lead us to Selkirk Shore State Park. The sunset was breathtaking and Matt didn't even mind learning that the recently acquired fishing pole didn't have enough line to reach more than 25 ft off shore, trumping his every effort at making the most of the week-long fishing license.
*note: despite the negative undertone of the preceding paragraphs, NY State was proving to be a wonderful threshold to reaching New England. (at this point it may be worth mentioning that ol' Selkirk has a little secret... it is riddled with skunks and raccoons... both of which graced us with their presence and - er - fragrance that evening).
Dawn brought dewdrops, morning doves and many thanks that the preceding evening's skunk vs. raccoon battle royal didn't end up leaving a longer lasting impression on our camping gear. Riding through the increasingly hilly terrain was accompanied by the perfect riding temperature and we made quick time of 60 miles en route to Boonville, NY. We arrived just in time to sign up for the local talent show at the friendly 1950's soda fountain. Matt decided that competing against a field of 10 year-old American Idol hopefuls and 60 or better sock hop veterans was not the place to display a barrage of beat box antics and opted instead to retire to Stych's Camp Barn to watch the Olympics in both Canadian and US coverage.
Friendly Stych (Dan) welcomed us with open arms, gave us free reign of the barn accommodations and showed us the way to perhaps the most pleasant camping site we had to date. The expansive property boasted an undulating field of glacially formed eskers (offering gorgeous views of the countryside) and a babbling brook swollen with the month's heavy rains swirling to avoid massive boulders (known as erratics) carried into place by the regions notorious glacial tongues.
Heading deeper into the Adirondack mountains, we saw other evidence of the glacial history of the region. Deep lacerations of bedrock (schist, basalt, sandstone, and limestone) alerted us to seasonal streams and waterfalls. Pockets etched out of the hills were formed of glacial lakes and deposits of debris resulting in current-day lakes at varying altitudes. We found many places to stop, swim and curse at the complete inability to entice a single fish to bite our rubbery worm imitations.
The towns of the upper Adirondacks were charming and delightfully irritating in their impeccable ability to draw tourists to their overpriced bounty. It was in this context that we met Big Bad Bruce. A seasoned recumbent bicycle tourist, Bruce was managing the hills with a bum kneecap forcing him to lug his 14' bicycle across the grain of hills with one leg. To his credit, the fearless iron horse rider achieved 50+ speeds careening down mountainsides we only dared white knuckle.
Approaching VT, we hopped on our 3rd ferry of the trip to cross into the green mountain state. Not yet completely put out by his fruitless efforts, Matt cast his lures out into the NY waters until the 10-car ferry made port and required his retirement.
Almost as soon as we disembarked in the new state, we found ourselves back in farm country. New England at this time of year is brimming with garden goodies and orchard treats. Not 5 miles from the ferry did we stop and load up on apples and plums (cider was not yet quite ready). We rolled into Middlebury that evening and enjoyed more local food at the Two Brothers Tavern before being picked up by Sue Levine. Sue graciously offered up her in-law cabin for the evening and was even willing to tote us between Middlebury and her town of New Haven both that evening and the following morning. Thanks Sue and Charlie! Your new home is lovely.
We now find ourselves alternating between sitting in a hot tub and lounging in leather lazy boys to watch whatever daytime programming we are able to digest. Matt's aunt, Jane Reed, called up a childhood friend, Kit Hood, in South Royalton, VT to alert her to our trans-am route. Kit kindly offered up her house despite not being around to greet us and told us to make ourselves at home. We thoroughly appreciate the beautiful house nestled in the green mountains and are appreciating our last day off before making the final push to Appleton, ME. Thanks Kit and Allen. Take a look in the freezer to find a home-made treat as a token of our thanks.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Fish, Farms and Flatlands Part 2: Minneapolis, MN to Brighton, NY
From Minneapolis, it was just a quick trip on the local rail-to-trail before entering Wisconsin (home state of Matt's Mom). As we came down a steep hill into the town of Stillwater, MN, which sits on the St. Croix River (this is the river that forms the border between Minnesota and Wisconsin) we were excited about the prospect of a change in landscape. It was a subtle change, but we were glad to learn that Wisconsin has at least slightly more hills and curves in its roads than Minnesota.
We rode across the border in a rainstorm after camping along the St. Croix River, but the sky cleared while we were at the library in Oceola, WI, and we traveled the rest of the day under the blue. We were lucky to find a restaurant that served fried cheese curds (the little pieces of cheese that are formed just after the curdling process- they are really tasty and fresh, and they squeak when you eat them) and a fine local brew (PBR).
It was amazing at how quickly the landscape transformed from wetland, lakes and flat expanses to rolling hills and... well ... cows. We greatly appreciated the change of scenery, and we decided to venture off of our official route to go a bit more directly through the state. We enjoyed really beautiful back roads, even cycling alongside a couple of deer as they bounded through a nearby meadow!
The Wisconsin State Parks we stayed in were very nice. One was on an island in the Chippewa River, right next to a huge old "stacker", which was once used for stacking pulpwood onto barges and rail cars (see photos on flicker link). We were also provided with more mid western hospitality: on our very first day in Wisconsin we stopped in to Donna's Kooler, where we were treated to a nice, cold, melon and some incredible sweet buns (we incidentally met Donna's brother when we stopped for lunch the next town over!). We got a place to get out of the rain, a sandwich and a ride to a campground from Ken Fleishman in Antigo, and we were gratefully kidnapped by the Keenan Family in downtown Shawano (pronounced SHAno). The Keenan's not only took us home for a swim in the Wolf River, they also showed us around the area, made us a lovely dinner, and let us watch TV, which they had just gotten hooked up in their new house.
The next exciting stop was at the ferry that would take us to Michigan, which left Wisconsin at Manitowoc, just slightly south of Green Bay. Dear friend Cristina made the trip up from Chicago to meet us, and brought delicious brownies and banana bread, which we promptly devoured. We found a place to camp through the warmshowers.org website, and although Jon and Pat were headed out of town, they invited us to stay in their yard and use their porch and garage, which worked out perfectly.
Leaving Manitowoc, we ventured across Lake Michigan on the SS Badger, the last coal burning ferry in the US (it took us a little while to figure out why our glasses of water had little black floaties in it). Midway across the lake we happened upon a HUGE storm that let loose exactly when we made port. Having never experienced a tornado, we were convinced that a water spout would appear any moment... it didn't.
Luddington, MI was a nice port town. We were fortunate to stay the night in the local Methodist church. At 7pm the board of trustees were having a meeting just as a sopping wet Anna and Matt walked through the front door. They thankfully let us sleep in the dining room.
As we cruised across the state of MI (only a 3-day ride) we came across more and more local gardens and roadside stands. The Amish and Mennonite communities are very active growers and were present at multiple markets. After spending an evening on the Leroy, MI town green we hopped on a 30 mi. bike path. Local rider Kim Wilson met us in Stanford and offered up his back yard for camping... not to mention his pool. The following morning he rode us out of town the rest of the way down the trail to Midland, MI where we enjoyed the local farmer's market and took photos of a unique landmark, the Midland "tridge" (see photos).
Midland quickly gave way to Bay City which brought us to our nation's edge at Marine City, MI. Next step.... Canada. We took the five minute, 1$ ferry across the S. Clare River into Ontario and headed out once again into...more corn and soybeans! After an entire day of straight and flat (on Bentpath Road, strangely enough) we finally hit Lake Erie, which was such an incredibly refreshing sight. Anna jumped into the water right away, and Matt took a "one step at a time" approach.
The next morning, while eating a piece of Bumbleberry Pie at the nearby convenience store, we had some visitors stop in. The triumvirate, the trio, the triple threat: Deb, Dan and Dutch, who are also on a cross-country ride. It was great to share stories with them about where we'd been, the interesting people we'd met, and the amount of ice cream we eat every day. Being gainfully employed (or gainfully retired) they are on a little bit of a different caliber of tour. For example, in the next town as the rain came in, they headed off to a B&B and we waited it out in the park. But it really worked out well, as we asked to camp at the local Anglican Church and ended up being invited into the home of Rick and Maureen Gilbert, who are caretakers of the church and grounds, random hitchhikers from Iran, and, it seems, traveling cyclists.
The next few days consisted of alternately riding through cornfields and through cottages along Lake Erie, into little port towns, and sampling local peaches, blueberries, apples, currants and of course some Lake Erie Perch. We shared a campsite and a torrential downpour with Deb, Dan and Dutch, and the next night with a woman from Holland on a solo, week-long recumbent tour. Her name was Iris, and she was on a summer trip in between her med school studies- last cycling holiday she took was six weeks through Europe, which sounded pretty awesome. We hung out with her in a campground that a)was full of huge RVs as usual and b) required wristbands so no "outsiders" could sneak in! and c) was having an outdoor showing/singalong/stagger-around to live Phil Collins, Steeley Dan and Earth Wind and Fire concerts. Thankfully they didn't require us to wear the wristbands- I guess we stick out enough.
The next day's ride to Niagara Falls was a nice one, and although it was a little sad to leave the shores of Lake Erie, we knew we wouldn't miss the smell of rotting algae that had followed us for the past week. We met a group of cross-country cyclists who were on an organized tour with a company called Teen Treks- they were headed to NYC from Seattle- clearly an incredibly ambitious group of high schoolers! A bicycle path brought us up into the Niagara River: we saw Buffalo, NY from across the way and continued north to see the Falls from the Canadian side. Niagara Falls is really beautiful, but the development around it looked pretty awful to us- huge hotels, casinos, and insane crowds of people. We took a look and continued on up to the bridge that brought us to New York, which was also packed with cars. Being on a bike came in handy, as we cruised past all the idling folks and through customs without a hitch (the woman only told us she was going to "recommend us for a psychiatric examination", which we are sure is the line she uses with all cyclists).
We are headed a bit further north now towards Lake Ontario, and the riding we have done in NY so far has been primarily on the Erie Canal tow path (although we have still been seeing lots of corn and soybeans!). We rode to Rochester on it yesterday, and it was really interesting to stop and read the history of the canal along the way. The amount of work that went into canal building in New York in the 1800s is incredible, and then trying to imagine all the hours of hauling freight back and forth with mules (they walked on the towpath and pulled the barges through the canal)
We spend the evening with Paul Tankel, a friend of Anna's friend Rebecca. It was great to shower and use a furnished kitchen after a few days of pasta and "one pot meals". We are now sitting in his house publishing this blog while he is at work. Thanks Paul!
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Want to send us something?
We will be in Gasport, NY around the 17th of August, and if you would like to send us a little note or a box of cookies, we will a) pick it up from general delivery and b) treasure it!
Just write
Please hold for: Anna Sommo and Matthew Crampton
Gasport, NY
14067
We look forward to a mountain of fan mail:)
Just write
Please hold for: Anna Sommo and Matthew Crampton
Gasport, NY
14067
We look forward to a mountain of fan mail:)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
