Eagle Bay to Rome: Today I found out they grill muffins in this weird country

October 12, 2016

How does that quote go? The one about climbing six impossible hills before breakfast? Because that was my morning. Okay, the hills were only impossible because I haven't had a rest day in a week; they probably weren't all that terrible but I really don't know.

I emerged from my campsite in the woods right in front of a woman walking along the path, which was fine because camping on state land is legal and was even better because she warned me about the rain in the forecast overnight and into tomorrow.

Then she added, as an afterthought, the 20 to 25 miles per hour winds that were going to start later today. She didn't specify a direction, so I assumed headwinds, and "later today" turned out to be 9:30 am, but 25 mph never happened.

It's been great how many people have offered up the weather forecast without my asking. It almost doesn't matter that I don't have internet access when I have random strangers who like to share bad news before they (presumably) walk away laughing at that stupid cyclist.

After the six impossible hills, I treated myself to breakfast at Walt's Diner in Old Forge, where they serve grilled muffins, and where old-timers line the counter while retired tourists with folksy accents sit at the tables, talking about ultrasounds and anesthesiologists.

Oh, great. Now I can relate to people more than twice my age. Dammit, I guess I have to go buy a recumbent next. Or just pay a visit to my grandmother, though I don't think she'll want to compare scars, and I've been showing mine off at every opportunity.

I followed the highway out of Old Forge and turned at Moose River Road, which lured me in with a friendly beginning next to a placid river--a river that I was following downstream.

It was a trap. I soon found myself spending entirely too much time in my granny gear, the river having disappeared somewhere far below. Still, it was a quieter road, and it did eventually rejoin the river.

The road was leading out of the Adirondacks, and it was there I started to smell apples once in a while, and see people raking big piles of leaves at the end of their driveways. Probably getting them out of the way so they could maintain their lawns, (sadly) not for passing cyclists to jump in.

And there were lots of passing cyclists; I saw two touring bikes coming toward me. I braked but didn't stop. They were already going slowly. I waited for them to stop. They may have been waiting for me to stop, and one of them asked me a question, but was already passing me. In the end, nobody stopped.

That was a new situation for me, meeting tourers on the road. The others have already been stopped or were across a busy highway, so I don't have much experience with this. How do you indicate you're happy to stop and talk? I seriously have no idea how this works; guestbook comments are welcome.

I missed a turn somewhere along the way while navigating through a work zone. The same workers were taking a break when I returned maybe half an hour later, so they had nothing better to do than stare at me. I had nothing better to do than pretend I meant to do whatever it was I had just done.

I'm going to pretend that last sentence makes sense and continue with my day... you can stay here for a while if you want.

These four were huddled together, but when I stopped for a photo they started quacking and stood up. But instead of flying away from me like birds usually do, they waddled toward me, quacking all the while, hoping for food.

I joined a canal path just outside Boonville, which goes right to a nice park in Boonville, complete with restrooms and working water fountains and covered picnic tables and--lacking in the Adirondacks--garbage cans.

All the amenities you could ever want. Except for a phone signal. That was a problem because although there was a state forest before Rome, it appeared to be on top of a hill, which wasn't happening today, so it looked like I was going all the way to Rome with no accommodation. Which, of course, meant I'd likely end up overpaying for a motel.

And that's exactly what I did, because I couldn't get a decent phone signal until I was well within city limits, and even then my data was too slow to be useful. T-Mobile is atrocious.

But before the motel, I stopped at Pixley Falls Park, wishing I didn't have to continue. The road was overall downhill by then but the headwind negated gravity.

The restrooms at Pixley Falls were boarded up, which prompted a conversation with an older couple with a little curly dog that growled at me.

They gave me detailed directions after I asked about motels, then repeated the directions. The wife said, "I don't do things like that anymore, but when I was in my 20s--" "So you just go straight into Rome, keep following this road, past the Dunkin' Donuts and the Price Chopper..."

I never did get to hear the wife's story. They spent a long time giving me directions, even referring to where they lived, so I was hopeful that they might offer me a place for the night, but it didn't happen. Guess they didn't want to risk getting caught harbouring a Canadian.

Today's ride: 100 km (62 miles)
Total: 1,822 km (1,131 miles)

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