Tuesday, May 17th
Day one. I couldn’t delay myself any longer. Despite still not feeling over my cold, and with parts of my route still very much up in the air, I had to go.
I packed my panniers carefully, trying to think about all the things I’d learnt from Korea and Japan, and how best to store and categorise the small number of items I now owned. I took them downstairs, along with my tent, handlebar bag and helmet. Then my bike.
I attached everything carefully but surely. The new items I’d bought fitted with reassuring clicks in the way my old stuff never did. I ran back upstairs and dropped the key inside, took a last look around, and closed the door.
I wheeled the bike out of the front gate and took a photo of it with the building behind. I would miss Will’s flat and the neighbourhood it was in.
I pedalled away anxiously, heading towards Brookyln bridge. I was expecting things to go wrong, a hangover from Japan. The bike felt heavy but stable and I slowly gathered momentum.
My plan for the next 4-5 days was to reach Niagra Falls where I’d join the Northern Tier route properly. Inbetween then and now the route was up to me. I could stay in New York, head directly north following the Hudson. Or go diagonally up through New Jersey and Pennsylvania. I wanted to follow the Hudson. I’d seen a little bit of the areas north of New York last year, around Poughkepsie and Cold Spring, and it was beautiful. But this route meant an extra 80-100 miles, and a whole day. I’d decide once I got to George Washington bridge which would take me, if I wanted to, into New Jersey.
I reached the start of Brooklyn Bridge, a long stretch of concrete path before the familiar wooden rungs began. As always it was busy with tourists who spilled over into the left hand cycle lane, it was the first time I had been on this side intentionally. Crossing the bridge made everything feel very real, even though it would be sometime before I left Manahattan. I took a few photos and looked up at the flag on top of the bridge above the web of cables. I asked a man from Taiwan to take a photo of me. The result was not good and I carried on.
Breaking through the crowds as I exited the bridge I rejoined the road for a short time until I found the Hudson River Greenway, a track for pedestrians and cyclists (and according to the signs painted presumably in the 90’s, people on rollerskates). It runs beside the Hudson, through a number of small parks up the edge of Manhattan. It was a chance to build up some speed and put some miles behind me. I hadn’t left the house until 11.30 and I wanted to be out of the city as quickly as I could.
The track was quick and easy cycling and I reached George Washington Bridge within the hour. I paused by The Little Red Lighthouse, decommissioned in 1931, it’s Manhattans only surviving lighthouse, tucked away in some rocks under the bridge. I needed to make my mind up, stay in New York or head to New Jersey. Eventually I reached a compromise, i’d cross the bridge but then follow the Hudson up to Cold Spring. But from there I’d head North-West, rather than continuing up through New York State.
I crossed the bridge. It was a windy and grey slog to the otherside. From there I joined the bicycle route 9 – a signposted cycling route along the Route 9W which would take me more or less all the way to Cold Spring, hopefully that evening.
The traffic thinned out, trees began to appear, along with other cyclists. It felt like I was making progress. I stopped at a bike shop and bought a replacement Go-Pro mount after my previous one had got damaged during the flight over. Two women outside took interest in my bike. One spoke exactly like Janice from Friends and I posed for a photo for her as she admired the leather saddle on my bike and struggled to process how on earth I was going to make it to Vancouver. I’d be lying if I didn’t share some of her doubts and confusion.
I crossed back into New York State and picked up a hotdog and a coffee at ‘The Market’ a roadside deli and grill pitstop. I was missing Japan’s convenience stores badly, but otherwise my first couple of hours of cycling were good. I had a lot more confidence in my bike and was able to focus my mind on my route and enjoying the cycling instead.
I took a smaller residential road closer to the river for a while. It was an upmarket neighbourhood. Some huge mansion like places, others small and quaint like a Wes Anderson set, but each was desirable and intriguing.
I didn’t take many breaks, one by the river where Canadaian geese wandered a playground, but no stops for food or much else. I began to regret this on the approach to Bear Mountain State Park, and bridge. The climbs on the approach weakened me and I could tell I’d not eaten enough. My stamina was still good, but my fitness had dipped and I was out of routine. It would take a few days to recover that.
The roads were scenic and quiet. The sun broke through at times and would highlight the edge of one or two trees. I saw several deer. It was hard to believe how close the city was to all this, and how different it was there.
I reached Cold Spring just after 7. The sun sets around 8 or 8.30 now, that’s a lot of time to cycle in. Days and distances are longer.
I stopped at a supermarket on the edge of town and locked my bike next to a dog pining for its owner. I spent too much money on snacks and could have saved it for a meal in town. I’d learn at some point to control my spending on an empty stomach.
I had a park in mind for a camp spot but it was a little more exposed than I remembered and was busy with people playing sports, so I headed to a spot of parkland down by the water, beyond the train station.
I sat on a rock and ate some snacks and waited for the sun to set and for people to move on so I put my tent up and curl up inside it. It had been a good first day. My bike felt great, the weather had been excellent, I reached where I was aiming for. Getting used to camping again would take a few nights but I looked forward to settling into that routine again.
Map
