The Grand Eastonian offered breakfast, and oatmeal seemed like the best option. I rode out of town, past a statue of Larry Holmes, over the Delaware and onto the D&L Canal Trail.

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A nice flat route south. I met my first tourers and let them know that 611 was passable and to ignore the barricades.

   After a second breakfast in Black Eddy, I crossed the Delaware to Frenchtown, New Jersey. A pleasant town where $60 t-shirts are not uncommon. The D&R State Park Canal Trail ran down the Jersey side. South of Frenchtown to Trenton, you can cross back and forth between paths on both sides of the river. Doing loops would be a fun way to spend a day or weekend. I used an S-pattern to arrive at New Hope, PA.

  Rainbow flags declared that New Hope was celebrating Pride Month a week early. I got the impression that every month is Pride Month in New Hope. The town had a preciousness that can only be created by an army of retired interior decorators. A friend suggested I eat at Karla’s. They had a friend who worked there. I figured I would check it out since it was nearby. I wanted to get my bearings in town.

   I walked into Karla’s near the bar area and told them that I would come back later for dinner. Being solo, I wanted to eat at the bar. “If there’s room,” was the response. I asked if Bill D worked there. The guy behind the bar said he never heard of him. I explained that a friend of Bill’s sent me. “Never heard of him,” was still the response. Maybe my orange bike helmet and orange shirt (a hedge against the Jersey drivers) didn’t live up to Karla’s sartorial standards. Maybe I was speaking to Bill D, I don’t know. After being treated like a vice cop at  the Stonewall Inn in the Spring of 1969, there was no way I was spending a dime in Kafka’s. I mean Karla’s. Later, I texted my friend and she said Bill D was working.

   I hopped on Betty and went in search of the New Hope Lodge, by far the least expensive accommodations in New Hope. A beacon of hope for the working man. The Lodge was a 50s-style motor lodge painted pastel colors, of course. Booking.com was $20 cheaper than the price quoted over the phone. It took a flurry of paperwork to check me in and me pointing out that the receipt indicated that I was charged $0.00 for the room. The room itself was clean and had a pale green 50s bathroom that one of the retired decorators would fight to preserve. I showered, put on my best clothes and headed to town.

   I walked a mile downhill into town in search of Italian food. The Italians were closed. I ended up dining at Martine's Riverhouse. I had a porkchop at the bar, which  was excellent. When the chef popped out of the kitchen, I thanked him. Martine’s had a great deck overlooking the Delaware. Next time, I’ll invite Bill D. If I can find him. Dinner cost almost as much as the hotel room but it was worth it.

   I walked home in a slight drizzle. The Lodge had installed lights on the porch to show off their pastel paint job. Unfortunately, the lights attracted mosquitoes and glared into the room all night. Although I tried to get into the room as quickly as possible, I still killed a few inside. They may have to call back the lighting designer.