Holy smokin’ frijoles, how did that happen? Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York and back into Canada for the second time on this trip. I can’t believe we just biked to Niagara! I feel like a giant spring coiled in the Midwest and suddenly sproing we’re in New England overnight.
Last Friday night near Cleveland, as if to send us off into the Northeast, there was a gigantic thunderstorm that cleared the slate. We weathered it in the Riders Inn, a B&B 200 years old. The inn featured Underground Railroad tunnels beneath it and tales of hosting soldiers during the war of 1812 told by the salty woman who runs the place. We woke to a new world. Humidity, gone. Temps in the low 70’s beneath blue skies with birds chirping. Fair maidens at picturesque farm stands hand us grapes and frosty-cold beverages along Lake Erie’s coast as if we are royalty.
Now we slow the pace – fewer miles, more days off – to enjoy the scenery and fall colors as they flicker on in orange and red. Hitting New England in September was our plan from the start and we aren’t in a rush, so linger we shall. We are 3,200 miles and 75 days in with about 800 miles to go. We could do that in 15 days if we got after it, but we’re aiming for 30 days. Yessss. As a guy we talked to along the way said, “That doesn’t sound like a vacation, that sounds like work!” Time for more of a vacation feel. Our nerves and energy levels are frayed and beaten down from the last month in the Midwest and I think we’ve earned a respite!
And with that, I’m off to find a barrel so I can launch off the falls. Ciao for now, amigos.