Sunday, May 21st
Today started with a ride to another diner. This time ‘Durf’s Family Reataurant’ in Fairport, about eight miles from where I camped by the lock. I liked my new diner-a-day routine. It was good to start the day with a big warm meal eaten around other people, inside. Diner food was cheap and filling, the coffee limitless, and the restaurants and their clientele an easy way for me to feel like I was tapping into what that particular town or region was about without needing to stop and wander around some streets or look at things in a museum. Seeing how each menu named and arranged their foods differently, overhearing a regular place their order, or simply wondering about old photos or mementos on the walls was a lot more interesting to me.
I got to Fairport at around 8.30. It was a neat, well groomed little place. The diner was quiet to begin with. One man in the corner eating beneath a moose head, one at the bar. But by the time I left there was a queue for tables. The walls were dark wood and the tablecloths black and white checks. Behind the bar a wall covered with photos of people holding up the fish they had caught.
I ordered what I had the previous day, this time it came under the name ‘The Hungry Man’, which seemed fitting. I left after about an hour, rejoining the now very familiar canal trail.
A straightforward twenty or so miles took me to and through Rochester, the largest city for some time, but I hardly noticed it come and go. It was bright and sunny again and the time and miles passed without any difficulty. Aside from one well signposted detour the route stayed firmly beside the canal and following it had become second nature.
The path wound up to a marina, I paused to take a photo and as I got off my bike and began to lean it against a fence a snake moved by my foot and darted into a clump of grass. I jumped back, almost throwing my bike to the floor but just about catching the weight of it. I only saw the tail, probably better that than the other end of it.
I took a break and spoke to Nik in Copenhagen for half an hour before carrying on. I changed into my short sleeve top. I had a strange tan – just my hands, face, and between my socks and shorts. My forearms would take a little time to catch up.
At Spencerport I stopped for food. I went into a supermarket at first but as usual found the volume and range of items completely overwhelming so left just buying a toothbrush to clean my gears and a small repair kit to fix my sunglasses. I stopped at Subway instead. Not a favourite place of mine but the calorie to dollar ratio was good and it was vageiuly healthy, as things go in the this country at least. I ate half by the canal and saved half for later.
Just as I began to leave a couple on touring bikes passed me, John and Sue. We chatted for a while then cycled together for the next few hours. They had been traveling indefinitely for the past two or three years or so after renting their place in LA, and had a lot of experience cycling in the States – they’d already cycled the Great Divide and Southern Tier route too. It was good to have some cycling company and talk about bike and route things, but also travel and our lives more generally. They managed to travel very light and looked efficient and well seasoned but relaxed. They were aiming to end their day at a town named Albion, I decided I’d carry on without them again on my own after that.
We passed by a few small towns, including Brockport and Holley. They all had the same style green and yellow bridge at their entrance, and I imagine a similar layout beyond that.
As we rested I took a moment to look at John and Sue’s map – it was the official Adventure Cycling Association Northern Tier route. It was detailed, breaking the route down into 10-or-so mile sections with details on amenities and directions. I took some photos and made some mental notes for Niagara Falls. I got some other tips from the pair of them on cycling in America like how to avoid bears and where to find free electricity.
They stopped at Albion and we said our goodbyes and I carried on after picking up a coffee from a gas station. For a brief time it was a little odd being on my own again. Chatting for a couple of hours had taken my mind of the distance, which I’d become a bit preoccupied with, and instead the three of us just enjoyed cycling along the wide and quiet canal path in the late afternoon sunshine.
I carried on for about 10 miles, and began thinking of where to camp. There were no parks for a while so I’d be best off finding a quiet spot by the river. I made the mistake of passing up a decent spot to hold out for something a few miles ahead. I should have trusted my intuition, which by now wand pretty good.
The sun began to set. I pass through Medina. Then Middleport. It’s 9 and almost dark. Not a huge problem since I have lights and I’m on the path and I’m not even very tired, but I need to stop. I put
my tent up on a section of grass to the side of the track. It’s not perfect but it will do. I made plans to get up very early and make up the last 30 miles to Niagara quickly in the morning. I’ve cycled six days straight now, just a couple of miles shy of 500, and I’m overdue a rest.
Map
