June 22, 2008
Day 41: Uncle John's Elk Creek Campground (Near Lake City, PA) to Mentor, OH
79.78 miles, 5:57:54 Ride Time, 13.37 Average Speed, 28.99 Maximum Speed
I woke up to a sunny, mild morning; can I put the arm warmers away until North Dakota? We'll see.
I was outside, getting everything ready on the bike, when the lady in the cabin next door came past, walking a little dog; I had seen her check in late last night. We talked for a while, and I learned she was relocating from South Carolina to live near her children and grandchildren; she was traveling by herself with her possessions in a U-Haul, and had stayed in the rustic cabin last night because she couldn't find a motel that would accept her three(!) dogs.
I rode up the short, steep hill away from Elk Creek, to get back on Route 5 again, and was in Ohio in less than ten miles. I had been looking forward to reaching Ohio, and the beginning of the Midwest, but I was a little anxious about the first few days there; I would be riding through Cleveland and its suburbs, urban riding which would probably stress me out. After that, however, I had country roads and corn and soybean fields to look forward to.
At the state line I met another bicycle tourist - Matt Hanson, riding from Texas to Rochester. His setup was unusual: He was riding a road bike, and was carrying much of his stuff in a backpack. After an enjoyable conversation with him, I rode into Conneaut (pop. 12,485), my first Ohio town.
Traffic was light on Sunday morning, and it was an easy ride through town onto Lake Road, which - naturally - followed Lake Erie. This was a nice, flat, pleasant ride, past neatly maintained homes on the lake.
In about 15 miles, though, I reached an ugly industrial section on the outskirts of Ashtabula (pop. 20,962). The first things I saw: A power plant, and next to it, the Rare Cherry Gentlemen's Club (where a sign informed me that at the Rare Cherry, "New Dancers Are Always Welcome!")
In less than a mile I arrived at the Ashtabula River, only to find the bridge closed. (Earlier, Matt had warned me about this, but because he had taken a different route through town, he didn't have any details.) I asked one of the workers there if he knew of a detour, and the guy proceeded to provide a complex set of directions that involved going miles out of my way and getting on a major highway. I quit listening halfway through, as he began revising his directions: "No, wait... you take 2 rights then a left... or do you take a left at the BP station..." etc. The guy had a fresh-looking black eye (which I imagined he had gotten in an altercation last night at the Rare Cherry), and seemed a little addled/hungover. I appreciated his help, but I decided to ignore everything he told me.
I backtracked a few blocks, then started making right-hand turns until, with the assistance of a local cyclist, I found my way back on the route. Oddly, I don't recall ever crossing the river, although I must have...
It was several miles to Geneva-on-the-Lake, "Ohio's First Summer Resort." I had only done forty miles for the day, but there were dark clouds over the lake, so I thought I would find out what the motels cost - just in case the weather did turn ugly. I pulled into one of the cheaper-looking places, where, after 41 days on the road, and hundreds of pleasant encounters with nice people, I encountered an unpleasant person.
I rode into the parking lot of the place, said hello to a group of three people sitting around a table, and asked if they knew anything about the motel. One scruffy guy who resembled the Grateful Dead's Jerry Garcia (when Jerry Garcia was still alive, I mean) said "I'm the owner of the place!" Great... "How much is a room?" "Well, that I don't know. Let me get the wife." A bleary-eyed woman appeared, looked me over, and said "$50. Cash." I asked her if internet was available, and of course the answer was no. While this conversation was taking place, another woman sitting at the table kept trying to interrupt. Now she jumped in: "Let me ask you a question. What gives you the right to ride on the roads and get in our way? You don't even have to get insurance like we do for our motorcycle. You should ride on the bike paths." During this slurred speech, it became obvious that she was drunk (they were all drinking - before noon - but she was the most drunk). "Why don't you and your friends get the f*ck off the roads!" She repeated this a few times, while the man she was with, apparently embarrassed, slunk away, and the motel owner, who was seeing a chance to rent a room evaporate, tried to apologize: "Now, leave the man alone."
A couple of years ago, I probably would have gotten into a heated argument with the woman, but I've learned that it is pointless to argue with a drunk, and it is best to simply avoid them. So, I just rode away after laughingly telling her I'd pass along her instructions to "my friends."
This incident unfortunately colored the rest of the day, as I rode away from Lake Erie, and made numerous turns on residential streets, in a mostly successful attempt to avoid traffic. By the time I reached the outskirts of Painesville, the sky was looking very dark to my left, and the sun was out to my right. I just can't figure out the weather of the last few days.
Eventually, near Mentor, the route fell apart, as a large chunk of the road was closed due to construction. I rode through it anyway, zigzagging around the traffic barrels. At one point I was stopped, looking at my map, when a man walked up. Was he going to tell me to "Get the f*ck off the road"? No, he was friendly resident of the neighborhood who, after asking if I needed any help, provided directions for getting around the construction area, and wished me luck. My faith in humanity restored, I found my way to a Super 8, where, after calculating that I had crossed the 3,000 mile mark for the trip, I decided to take the day off tomorrow.
| Heart | 1 | Comment | 0 | Link |
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
Today's ride: 80 miles (129 km)
Total: 3,010 miles (4,844 km)
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 2 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 0 |